The warm sunlight shining through my window wakes me. I shuffle down the stairs to the kitchen when the pleasant aroma of cinnamon buns fill my nostrils. That’s weird my mum never bakes, but there she is humming sweetly along with the radio, kneading the dough with her small hands.
"Why aren't you at work?" usually my mother is up and gone by the time I wake up. She's the CEO of some big company downtown and never misses a day of work.
"I called in sick so I can spend some time with you!" she beams as she walks towards me, arms out ready for a hug. Which is also odd, my mother and I always had a pretty rocky relationship and she rarely hugged me, but the fact that she's doing it know just because she wants to strikes me as odd. "Come on, grab your stuff I'm taking you shopping! We're going to have so much fun!" Shopping. She's taking me shopping, that’s even weirder than the cinnamon buns. I run up the stairs grab my stuff and just as I'm about to exit my bedroom door I notice an old photo of my friends and I, one of my favorite and beside that my grey walls. Wait, I could’ve sworn they were white, they've been white since I was little, not grey! Still unsettled I bound down the stairs and out the door

"Hey mom! Have my walls always been grey?" she looks at me like I'm stupid (which is her usual look for me) "are you okay Gemma?" she asked with a laugh
"Yes I'm fine but my walls?" she starts the car and sighs, "yes Gemma your walls have always been grey" but still, the feeling that something's off nags at me.
As I enter the mall I am completely shocked. Its dead empty, like literally not a single person was walking around. As we passed the store fronts the clerks all had clown smiles plastered to their faces, and in front of every store there are Huge red signs screaming "SALE,SALE" I inch closer to my mother "wow it sure is empty in here" she laughs, "well it's because you're in here silly!" I look at my mother in confusion, why would the mall be empty just because I'm here? Did she somehow shut it down because of where she works? Or were we just lucky? She notices my questioning look, "It's because you’re here, you hate big crowds so now big crowds won't happen!" she looks at me blankly
"I have to go to the bathroom" I blurt I leave without waiting for an answer. This whole situations freaking me out, if one more out of place thing happens, my brain might just explode. I head to the sinks to wash my face, to clear my mind. As I finish drying off I notice a newspaper perched almost strategically in the garbage can, I flip it over and almost drop it. Splashed across the front page is my school photo, and under it… "FOUND DEAD, fourteen year old Gemma was found dead last week. Our investigation will be further explored, until then no information will be released without the family's consent." This was some type of joke right? One of those fake newspapers just to get attention, it had to be. I crumpled it and chuck it back in the trash. Sick joke.

Two hours later I have a new pair of jeans, some t-shirts and a few books. The scene in the bathroom hasn’t left my mind and its taking all my willpower to push it to the back of my mind, and since then things have only been getting weirder. My mum bought ALL of stuff, all of it. She never buys me anything like that unless it's my birthday or Christmas, and this whole time she had that creepy smile plastered to her face.
By the time I got home it was almost dark, and the events from my day were swirling around in my head, making it hard for me to relax. I crawl in my bed, anxiously waiting for sleep to allow me to forget all this weirdness. Like usual I dream, but I wasn’t happy and fun times, it was dark and harsh. I'm walking and its night, few cars drive by and my music blares in my ears. I don’t usually walk home alone this late, but I didn’t want to bother my parents, and I could really use the fresh air after what happened. I'm about five minutes away from the warmth of my house, when I feel as if someone's following me. I turn my music down a few and slowly turn in all directions looking. When I'm satisfied that nothings there, I turn my music up full blast. Suddenly, very softly, like a whisper I feel a tap on my shoulder.

I turn, already knowing who it is before I see their face, my stomach clenches, my hands sweat, and I feel as if I'm going to faint, rain slams down on the pavement, soaking it, soaking me, it's hard to see clearly.  "You really shouldn’t have done that Gemma…" he draws out really and says it with a broken laugh, he's shaking and tears stream down his face, yet he's laughing. I turn and run.

I wake in a cold sweat, gasping for breath, nails digging into my palms. It felt so real, like I was really there, like it really happened. Except I don’t remember it happening, surely I would remember him, he was practically insane! Yet even as I think about it, it feels as though I've known this guy, like I knew him very well. I brush off all feelings of doubt and try to forget it, besides it was just a nightmare. I head downstairs and as I enter the living room the television flickers on, I reach the remote to shut it off, it doesn’t give, it's on the news channel, and the story of the day is the death of some fourteen year old… wait, that’s me. On the news that’s me their talking about, my mouth dries up.
"Last Saturday a local hiker was walking when he came across the body of young Gemma wood. Private investigators claim she had been dead several hours before Greg smith found her, with multiple stab wound and bruises along her neck we can assume the murder was second degree. How horrible, I hope they find the man responsible for this. Back to you."

The remote drops from my hand. How is that possible? How could I have been choked and stabbed that many times and not remember? Or the more important question… am I really dead?
I lift my shirt to where the stab wounds were indicated on the news and notice eleven messy scars all across my abdomen. Stab wounds. The world turns black.

I wake in my room, with the grey walls that should’ve been white and I know something's terribly wrong. My mother is sitting at my desk watching me intently, her blue eyes burning into my green ones.
"Mum?" my voice is raspy, I feel sick. "What's happening?" I cry, she laughs softly and I notice that her teeth are rotten. I squirm, my back cutting into the head board. She saunters towards me and sits down, the bead creaks. Slowly she places a hand to my cheek, its ice cold, she closes her eyes I expect her to open them any minute but she won't.
"… Mum?" my voice trembles and my hands shake. She slowly opens her eyes, but they're not the cool blue that I'm used to. They're pitch black, no white, No blue, like tunnels.
My vision turns red, my voice is lodged in my throat, It feels as if someone's strangling me. She opens her mouth to speak, and her voice is dead, it's as if she's on auto pilot, there's no feeling, no love, nothing. "I'm surprised it took you so long to figure it out Gemma. You used to be so smart when you were alive."
I feel like my lips are stitched together and just opening my mouth to speak feels like they are ripping apart. "When I was alive? Mom, what's going on?" my voice breaks, my mother's lips are slightly chapped and bleeding. "When you were alive. You're dead Gemma. You’ve been dead for days, and if you think the afterlife is all happy happy happy happy… you better start praying to god that he'll help."