Dead Alive

The sound of birds happily chirping outside me window woke me up. Any other normal person. Would love to be woken up in such a manner every morning. But not me. I didn’t want to be woken up by birds. In fact, I didn’t want to be woken up at all. I laid in bed for a few more minutes with my eyes shut as I thought of her. The way her bouncy red curls moved when she walked. She was always in a hurry. The little line that appeared between her eyebrows when she was in deep thoughts. Her big emerald eyes that always beamed with excitement. Anger flashed through my mind as I thought of the man who ran her over getting away with it. His lawyer had argued that he was not to be blamed. She apparently came out of nowhere and he couldn’t stop in time. I know very well that that’s bullshit. Stacie was always careful. At 28 years of age she still looked left and right before crossing any road. I often made fun of her and her answer was always the same. "One can never be too careful." A loud thud shook me out of my thoughts. I was reluctant to get out of bed and investigate. After a few minutes, I dragged myself out of bed and stood in the tiny bathroom gazing at my reflection. I looked like shit. My brown hair was in need for a good wash. A stubble that has been growing for the past week made me look worse than I felt. The dark circles around my eyes were proof that I had not been getting much sleep. I looked into my cabinet and groaned in frustration. All out of toothpaste again. I did not want to have to go into town and bump into people that I no wishes to speak to. I really had to go into town, I had been brushing my teeth with no toothpaste for the past few days. Stacie would have been ashamed of me. Well, at least I was brushing my teeth. That should count for something. I pulled on a pair of dirty jeans and an equally dirty shirt and grabbed my van keys. On the coffee table next to my keys was a fallen lamp. I looked around for the culprit. "I know you’re here, Mittens. Show yourself." A soft purr emerging from the sofa told me that he was hiding somewhere there. Mittens belonged to Stacie. Ever since her passing, I had been looking for a person or place to take him to but a part of me still held on to him. My thoughts were disturbed by the sudden rings of my phone. "Danny here." I answered. There was no answer. "Hello?" Still no response.This had been happening ever since Stacie died. I had been hoping that it’s someone who could possibly have information that could confirm what I already knew. Stacie didn’t just die. She was murdered.