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The Deceased

The Deceased
Amelie Baker

I slam the door shut desperately. The barrier between me and the outside world is finally closed again, until tomorrow that is. The outside world consists of people; backstabbing, egotistical, manipulative people. I wish they would all just disappear. Then, I’d be left in peace. For a little while at least. My mother knew better than asking if I wanted dinner — the answer was always no. I don’t remember dozing off, only the distant music which emanated from my headphones.
I was abruptly awakened by the siren of my alarm clock, like nails on a chalkboard. The thought of another day made my teeth grind. I reached the stairs, silence. Normally, at breakfast time, having five other siblings, it’s as loud as a public town protest. But nothing. No whiff of pancakes or bacon or egg. Nothing. I rushed into my parents room, elated to see if my dream had come true. As I enter their room I instantly smell death. One bullet wound each in both of their heads. Dried brown stains had oozed onto their pillows.
My first thought was a mass murder or robbery took place in the night. But why leave my room untouched? The TV and my phone was emitting only white noise. Travelling to various houses and even into central town, I found that every single person was dead — apart from me. I thought about venturing into the wilderness. Trying to hunt down people who may be alive but when I drove to the nearest communication centre, only white noise was coming out of the radios. My wish was granted.
Humans could do and be what they wanted. They were so cruel when they didn’t have to be — that’s why I hated them. They were killing off the planet but didn’t care because they were so self-absorbed. I can be awful too sometimes, but never towards anyone else. I was treated like the earth, people took my kindness for granted. When I asked for help or wanted to be part of their conversations they turned their back on me. They disregarded my voice or opinion. That’s why I hate them; for what they choose to be.
With every day that passes by, it gets more lonely and I lose hope that someone alive is out there. I can’t cope with my isolated thoughts and at some points I think about ending my life, but I don’t of course. I am too scared, what if I terminate the human race? What if this is a test? As humans we are insensitive and thoughtless. It is all down to me, but I don’t know what to do.
After a few weeks, I realise not everyone was evil. Victims, charities, people who saved lives. A part of the human race wasn’t obnoxious and it’s taken a lot for me to accept that. As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I hear movement in the house. I’m not alone anymore. Or have I just woken up?