(Spanish: Stealing from the Dead)


Digging. Digging, digging, digging. Damn. 'I'm so tired of this shit!' It feels like it's been hours, and the sun is about to fully rise. I hope this is worth it.

"Crack!" There we go! I'm going to really hate putting this dirt back. Now all I have left to do is lift the lid and get looting. Wait. What the hell is this? Ow! Make it stop, please! Pl-

"We gather here today, to commemorate the unexpected and untimely death of of Julia Démorte. She was a loving wife, caring friend, and respecting person. She has touched everyone here in some way, and that is why are gathered here," concluded the priest.

It's been five years, five lonely, worthless years since I've lost her. I didn't want to lose her, god forbid I be happy for once. She was my everything, and I was hers. We had been together since we were mere teenagers, and she disappeared, just like that. Things have been unclear and my words have been neglected. I'm sorry for ranting, it's just been so depressing, I can't take anymore of this. I have nothing worth living for. My love is lost.

She was at home, taking care of things while I was at work. I decided to take up an easy enough job after the military. You know, R&R without quite quitting altogether. But like I was saying, she was prepping for my return, and as I pulled up, I saw a masked figure run through my yard and disappear. As I got out, I started running inside, and what I saw after that was... was just unbearable. There she lay, lifeless, in an increasing puddle of her own blood. Nothing was taken, but she had been stabbed and died from exsanguination.

I called the police, and they sent a paramedic, and it was confirmed. She died just minutes before I got to her. The next month I didn't go to work. Hell, I didn't even get up and out of bed. Eventually, they had her funeral, I payed for it all under circumstance, and I finally got up and moved. I hadn't felt like myself lately, and her death was sobering. I had nightmares every night about her getting killed and how I could've kept her alive, even though the paramedic said that it was impossible for me to have done anything by the time I arrived. They always said we're all victims of a crime, but I never really was one until now.

Eyes full of tears, I proceeded to go to the memorial, the burial, and bore through every single person apologizing. But they don't understand. They don't feel what I feel.

Now, five years later, I've been going through some problems worse than ever. I don't think Julia's gone. I woke up the first month and found one of the bracelets she was buried with on the dresser in our room. That same night, I had a nightmare that I was someone digging. Digging, digging, digging, and finally reaching a casket. Julia's casket. I opened the lid and there she was, like she hadn't changed a bit. I woke up choking, crying. I got up, looked in the mirror, and washed my face.

Now, before you get ahead of me, there weren't any shadows, no one behind me, nothing like that. For god's sake, what do you think this is? Some half-assed, poltergeist shit? I washed my face and returned to bed, that was it, nothing more, nothing less. I awoke that morning and saw the damned thing. That fucking bracelet. And everything; every memory, every laugh, every tear, came rushing back. I tucked it into a safe place and went on.

The next incident didn't happen until a few months down the road. Three or four, maybe. I had another unusual nightmare, but in this one, someone was choking me with a chain. When I woke, I had my face in the pillow, hands around my neck, squeezing. Before you start thinking predictable shit again, I slept with my hands under my chin, kind of on top of each other, for comfort. It's weird, I know, but tell me you don't do weird shit. Well, I woke up and, of course, found Julia's necklace sitting on the dresser, right in the same god damn spot. I picked it up, cried my heart out, and tucked it away.

I had been working harder, lately. Spending as little time at home as possible. I can't go back, not like I used to. I occasionally hear Julia's voice as my conscience. Yeah, I miss her that much. She tells me she loves me, she says all kinds of things, but she never blames me for what happened. All in all, it makes it worse because I still feel like it's my fault. You know?

One day, I walked into the office, and someone made a shrewd remark, "Wow, look who seems to be, well, not pissed off."

I furrowed my brow, confused, because from what I remember, I haven't been angry at anyone in a long, long time... I then asked, "What do you mean?"

My good friend, Gui, said, "Well, last Friday you were insanely angry, beyond pissed. I asked you what was up, and you just looked at me and said, 'There are two,' and just kept walking. I was confused and decided to let it go."

"'There are two?' I have no idea what that could possibly mean..."

"Me either, man, just let it go, you don't need to stress about anything, just relax."

And with that, I left to my office. As I got in, I saw a sticky note that had "Nd 2 r-move bd nxt" written on it. I looked at it and couldn't make out what it meant at all. The weird part? It was in my handwriting... I put it down and got to work.

After work, I drove home and got my suit off. I sat down on my bed and started thinking about Julia, of course.

"It's been a while since could say I love myself as well as you," I said to no one, hoping Julia would hear how much I love her.

That night, that last night. Oh god why? I went to sleep, and the next day woke up with something I had moved next to me. It sort of comforted me and took the place of Julia. What took the place of Julia was Julia. I awoke, screamed like hell, and the police burst through the door. They cuffed me, and took me to prison. I went to trial, but was relieved of my crimes on terms of being criminally insane and schizophrenic. Before I knew what was happening, I was loaded in a truck and sent to a mental asylum. I pleaded and told them I'm not insane, but they just smiled and injected me with something.

As it turns out, I had multiple personalities, and one of them dug Julia up, and was the reason her jewelry ended up on my dresser. And I bid you farewell, reader, before I end this hellish nightmare. Julia will tell you if I succeed or not. After all, she'll help me no matter what.

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