Romans & histoires Talk Back And You Re Dead

I finally spoke, my voice quivering at the end of my words, I tried wrapping my head around it, it seemed too impossible, the dead can't come back to life. I gasped, deep breaths that I couldn't hold back escaped from my lips even though I just had a bath, beads of sweat instantly formed on my forehead and my temples, I palmed my face and shrieked. "She is dead, Tito, she can't come back, this must be a prank, a terrible and tasteless joke!" I removed my palms from my face and I heard the voice again from my phone.

Then as I am about to lose the last restraint that I have left in me, my call gets answered on the other end; I don’t need a hello, not a single word, just a plain statement… “You are fucking dead. You might have won this round, but I am coming for you. Mark my words, you are fucking dead.”

"You are dead." "Wait... what?" I looked up at her. "You're dead. We buried you right next to your parents. So unfortunately, you can't just go back," she repeated like she didn't just drop a bomb. Her voice was very nonchalant, that monotonous tone still there like she hadn't just killed me. "What do you mean I'm dead? I'm here. I'm standing here," I asked, wondering if maybe they were crazy or something. Or was I the crazy one?

Grandma sidestepped to avoid Mom. She then glared coldly at her and said, "Ash is already dead. You were the one who locked him up for the night. How long are you going to live in denial, Linda?" Mom slumped to the floor, covering her face and sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry, Ash. Please come back to me..." Dad kneeled on the floor and repeatedly struck his forehead against the ground with a heavy, rhythmic thumping sound.

I want to go back ten seconds and trip myself instead. “Oh,” I whisper. Lucien raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. “Oh?” I swallow hard, voice dropping to a whisper meant for myself but loud enough that the nearest guards hear it. “Oh, I’m so fucking dead.”

The same man I shot in the chest three days ago. Luca cursed under his breath. “No. No freaking way. That man is dead. I saw him. We buried him—” I lifted my gun instantly. “You’re not real.” Rinaldi smiled—slow, twisted, wrong. “Dead men talk too, you know. Especially when they die with unfinished business.” The room tilted slightly. Maybe from shock. Maybe from anger. Maybe from the pain I keep locking inside my ribs. “You’re not real,” I repeated, but softer this time, like I wasn’t convincing even myself.

“Do you remember what I always say when some serious situation happen, hmm?” “Something about leaving someone behind, my Lord,” Ted grumbles quietly, clearly uncomfortable to admit he already forgot the words. I chuckle and shake my head. “I like to remind everyone that we leave behind the dead, not the lost. And you, my little sneaky friend, are starting to act less like a lost creature and more like the dead.” Just as he opens his mouth, most likely pretending to have found the courage to act like a real man, one of the leeches slides closer and Ted lets out a heavy breath of relief.

) He threatens. "Facciamo un gioco" (Let's play a game) his tone suddenly shifts, an enemy initiating a game does not sound good. "Lo chiamo il gioco della morte" (I call it the game of death) I can sense the smirk in his voice, this definitely doesn't sound good. "Ogni minuto che ritardi l'inevitabile, qui muore una persona" (Every minute you delay the inevitable, a person dies here) he laughs evilly, my eyes widen in alarm .

The look of men who had seen war. I exhaled, rolling my shoulders. Then, I spoke. “You all thought I was dead.” My voice was steady, cutting through the silence like a blade. “Hell, I thought I was dead too.” A murmur rippled through the crowd. I could see it in their eyes—the weight of everything they had lost when I was gone. “But you know what’s funny?” I let my lips curl into a smirk. “Dead men don’t come back to take what’s theirs.”

I just shook my head and pressed down the button on my walkie. “Hey guys we've got a dead at our rear, end of the street, closing fast.” I stated clear and quiet. Speaking up or firing a gun now would be a very bad move. Like all things evil the dead tended to be more active during the night and a loud sound would draw them to us like wildfire. “Can you handle this quietly West?” Wheelers voice asked through the small device and I grit my teeth. This was one way to get my mind off of Jake.