After we finished eating, it was time to start with the day’s business.

  The foremost focus was on preparing our newfound home for winter, and that would mostly be done by scavenging the surrounding homes on the street for useful materials.

  I didn’t know anything about repairing a house or woodwork or renovation or anything else like that before I died; the most I did was help my parents move a bunch of furniture or sometimes I had to patch a hole in a tent when I was overseas and on the road.

  But necessity was as good a teacher as any, and it was one that I was far too acquainted with.

  I took with me a couple of helpful tools I had managed to gather across the weeks, such as a hand-axe and hammer, and pushed a few makeshift bags for my sister to hold onto. After making sure she was okay, I took her out onto the street and turned left.

  Venturing through the abandoned neighbourhood was rather relaxing, compared to what I usually had to go through.

  I didn’t have to keep my head down, always in fear that some unscrupulous stranger would try to snatch me away, or worse, try to snatch my sister away. I didn’t have to constantly watch out to not carelessly bump into strangers, lest I find myself on the receiving end of a bad mood spawned from a terrible day or harsh circumstances. There was no need to worry if there might have been a mercenary or assassin or anyone like on their way back from a job, an encounter with whom would paralyse me from the sight and smell of bloody metal.

  I didn’t have to listen to the maddening sound of footfall; that sickening monotony of routine, the sound of city life, that once made me uncomfortable enough to leave the confines of civilization and travel to foreign lands, only made worse in the present by the cold and cruel reality of homelessness.

  I didn’t have to squeeze my body between the crowds, blocking out the streets from my view and introducing an ever-present faint fear of separation from my sister, and I didn’t have to stick to the corners, crevices and alleys of the city to stay out of sight.

  I could just… be out in the open, in more than just the cover of darkness.

  A wide empty street, free for me to stroll side to side in.

  A sun whose rays I could selfishly hoard, golden and bright, streaming softly through white clouds and nourishing my sunken skin,

  Air that was for no one else to breathe but me, carried over yonder across distant trees by the autumn breeze.

  A peaceful day in a peaceful place, surrounded by nothing by history; by the leftover tales of people who once lived here, and all the silent fingerprints they left behind, etched into the walls of their homes and the remains of their belongings.

  It was a reminder that the world could be a peaceful, beautiful place, something that I had forgotten about since I died. It didn’t have to be cold, and hateful, and lonely. It didn’t have to look down upon me with glaring eyes that told me I was the scum of the earth. It didn’t spew vitriol towards me about how worthless I was, how meaningless my struggles were, how I would never escape the hell of futility I found myself in.

  It was nostalgic, almost, it gave me memories of better times.

  Back when you had a full stomach.

  It reminded me of when I was travelling around the world, seeing everything it had to offer.

  When you couldn’t look your parents in the eye anymore and ran.

  All the beautiful towns I saw, lived in by caring families with hundreds of years of stories to tell. All the strangers I met, happy to regale me with their countless tales and to provide for a nameless stranger.

  You miss the privilege.

  You miss being unburdened by all of this.

  You had want for nothing.

  The world was such a large, mysterious place, filled with so much for me to see and remember. There was so much, just waiting for me.

  There was always somewhere else you could escape to.

  Wasn’t that nice?

  …But I couldn’t lose myself in those memories.

  Why not?

  That young man’s life had already passed, I could not dwell on it forever.

  You can go back.

  I had a responsibility now, my life was not my own. I had to take care of my sister now.

  I brushed the doubt aside and pulled myself back to the present.

  I approached one of the remaining unexplored houses on the street and walked in.

  I gave a quick glance behind myself, just to make sure nothing had happened to my sister.

  She responded to my flickering gaze with a small, resolute nod.

  First of all, we had to search through all the drawers and closets.

  The wood beneath our feet creaked uncomfortably as we crept through the small hallways and rooms, drawing my eye to the state of the interior walls and floorboards.

  Insects crawled around in tiny holes and cracks. Thick layers of dust filtered through my nose and itched my lungs.

  A vaguely wet, aging smell dulled my senses.

  All of the wood in this house was badly damaged by weather and decay, damaged over the years by neglect from the rain and insect infestations. There was very little chance I could salvage any of it to repurpose.

  That was a shame. There were still a few holes in the roof and walls I had to plug up before the rain started to come in. I hadn’t made progress in that regard for around a week.

  I came up to a door and unconsciously turned the knob and tried to push it open, my eyes still elsewhere, inspecting the ruined furniture littered around the place.

  My hand didn't move.

  I found my thoughts pushed to the side, halted by the unexpected resistance in front of me.

  I tried to push the door open again. It refused to budge.

  Jammed. Or locked. Or something. It didn’t really matter, the solution was the same no matter what the problem was.

  I frowned, placing my hammer on the floor and gripping the hand-axe left in my hands tightly.

  I turned around, nodding my head away from the door.

  “Stay back,” I told my sister.

  She stepped back skittishly, clutching the empty bag I gave her to her chest.

  I inhaled deeply, mustering all the strength left in my twiggish body.

  I stepped forward, spinning my back ankle inwards. I let that rotational energy channel itself all the way up my body, swinging my hips, imbuing my torso with enough power to throw my shoulder forward, sending the axe in my arms rocketing forward deep into the wooden door.

  Yet despite the herculean effort I had put into my swing, it was only barely enough to just punch through the timber, sending a small chunk of wood and splinters exploding back into the room.

  I felt the feedback from the swing travel through my palms, a slight tingle of numbness already reaching my nerves from that singular puny blow.

  I grunted, struggling to free the axe from where it was lodged with nothing but my meagre weight to pull it.

  When I finally managed to pull it free after a handful of seconds, I was sent stumbling backwards, my balance saved only by the fact that I smacked myself against a wall.

  I spent the next few minutes hacking away at the door, slowing inching away at the obstruction until its frame was weak enough for me to kick apart.

  It had taken longer than I would have liked, but it was a better result than what I had achieved the first time I tried to do something similar.

  At least now I wasn’t reduced to panting and sweating from a singular door.

  I tossed the remains of the door aside as I stepped into the now forcefully opened room, carefully brushing aside the debris that my actions had scattered on the floor to clear it of any walking hazards.

  I beckoned my sister into the room with me.

  “Watch your step,” I warned her.

  She hesitantly stepped into the room with me.

  I turned back to look around.

  It seemed like a bedroom. It was a bit hard to tell, given that the mattress was missing, but that structure over in the far corner was definitely a bed frame. That part was disappointing, we still needed more sheets and blankets if we wanted to maintain a full, clean cycle. It was hard to fit in a proper laundry rotation at the moment given our minuscule amount of sheets.

  It looked relatively small. Maybe a child have lived inside here in the past?

  I pulled one of the drawers open.

  Children’s clothes.

  My eyes brightened.

  I hastily took a set out, flapping it around a bit to unfurl it fully.

  It was a slightly thick, plaid dress, the skirt hanging fairly far below the waist. Given the blocky, rectangular upper half, almost looking like a jacket or a coat, it was probably meant for a boy to wear, not a girl.

  It was something straight out of Victorian England, which did confuse me a little. I didn’t really get the impression wherever and whenever I was had reached the level of industrialisation to make textiles like this possible.

  I wasn’t going to complain though. Clothes were clothes, and this set was thick enough to wear in winter. I wish there could have been something more suitable for a little girl to wear, but that was maybe too hopeful of a luxury.

  I held up the dress in my hands and gestured for my sister to spread out her arms.

  I gently pushed the clothing against her body and flattened it out, judging how it fit around her limbs and torso.

  It was a bit big, but close enough to a fit to be wearable. A small bit of overhang was fine, that just meant she would be able to grow into it.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  I smiled, folding up the dress and presenting the bundle to her.

  “Here, keep this inside the closet. If you ever feel cold, wear it.”

  “O-okay…” She smiled and accepted it, hurriedly shoving it inside of the bag and holding it close to her chest.

  I continued searching through the drawers.

  While I did find a few more pieces of clothing, they were unfortunately too big for someone as frail as my sister. I didn’t really have much other practical use for them, unfortunately, but I guess they were okay enough for someone of my size to wear.

  Unfortunately, there wasn’t much else to find. Both in the room and the rest of the house.

  I repeated the process of forcefully opening every door in the house – as much to my annoyance, they were all stuck like the first one – draining much of my stamina needlessly. Upwards of an hour was spent simply hacking away at doors, only to find nothing once I managed to break into the rooms they were protecting.

  That was okay.

  I had found more than enough to satisfy me. It wasn’t uncommon for us to spend hours in a single house only to find nothing of benefit.

  And usually, when there was something that was potentially useful, it wasn’t exactly guaranteed to be that useful, either. Fixing up the house for bad weather insurance was more important than contingencies for winter. Having contingencies for winter was more important than salvaging leftover whatevers into slightly useful miscellaneous objects like sacks or baskets.

  A set of warm clothes for winter was more than enough loot for a full day of scavenging, and I was lucky to have found this much already in the first house of the day.

  I was already far too tired for the day, but I had to push that aside. I needed to be efficient with my time. Winter was only so far away, and there was still so much on the street we had to dig through.

  I moved onto the next house.

  The wood was rotten again. No usable boards or planks for me to take.

  Oh, how woeful.

  Nothing in the closets. Not even a rag.

  A half hour passed by with nothing to show for it.

  At least I didn’t have to spend my dwindling stamina hacking at doors.

  I moved onto the next house.

  The doors were stuck again. I brought my axe out and cleaved away.

  I felt the sweat grow slick on my back, my clothes growing dirty and sticky.

  This house was filled with furniture. But it was all fundamentally unsalvageable. I was sure of it because I spent far too long breaking each piece apart only to have nothing to show for it.

  Another wasted hour or two.

  I moved onto the next house.

  Doors stuck. Again. I had to tire myself out. Again.

  And I found nothing. Again.

  The irritation bubbled. I held back a growl.

  Next house, same story. More wasted hours.

  My sweat dried out. I think I was dehydrated.

  I had to take a break for a few hours by the well for water.

  I wouldn’t get much more done. Two more houses if I was lucky.

  My luck didn’t improve.

  I felt the frenzy start to stir beneath my skin, its mad, cold fingers clawing desperately for a way out.

  Isn’t it tiring?

  The rest of the day was wasted.

  Nothing. No usable lengths of wood. No furniture that was still intact or uninfested. No mattresses or sheets or anything else like that.

  A grand total of zero progress was made after the first house I checked.

  All of that for nothing.

  You should have just looked for more food.

  Take a step back.

  Just relax.

  You deserve a reward after all your hard work.

  It was fine.

  Is it?

  It had to be fine.

  I had gone through days where I found even less in the neighbourhood, and we were still doing fine.

  The sun is starting to set.

  It’s dinnertime.

  Do you remember the last time you had a full ‘dinner’?

  …

  It was fine.

  I repeated the thought to myself, feeling the drain of energy throughout the day finally take effect.

  It had to be fine.

  My arms started to grow heavy from constant hacking and chopping. I think my feet started to blister after having rarely taken any amount of rest. My hands burned red, painfully so, the harsh wood of the weathered axe rubbing away at my fragile skin.

  If it wasn’t fine, then I would lose my grip on what was in front of me.

  I felt everything disappear for a moment. The world turned black. Everything seemed so light and airy. I was somewhere else in that moment. Somewhere comfortable, somewhere happy, where I didn’t have to think.

  I managed to catch myself before I slipped any further, stumbling forwards until I caught myself and made myself upright. I ground my teeth, tensing every muscle in my body to push myself up.

  I had to stay steady, stay strong.

  That was the only way I would get us through the winter.

  I felt my eyelids start to droop.

  It was hard to make out what was in front of me.

  As the sun set behind me, I heard something.

  My sister’s stomach gurgled.

  My head snapped towards her.

  When was the last time you heard your stomach make that sound?

  That quiet rumbling of hunger…

  Don’t you miss it?

  She blushed from the sudden attention I was suddenly giving her, no doubt embarrassed about the obvious sound coming from her.

  “S-Sister, we should head back… it’s getting dark.”

  My gaze flicked towards the horizon.

  I couldn’t make out much of it.

  A distant memory came to mind.

  A normal, frequent one.

  I would be sitting out there in the open, far away from all life, staring out into the distance, passing the time by just being thankful I was alive to see the world.

  I would wistfully look out and smile, admiring the vibrant colour of the sunset.

  A small white orb doing its best to shine through the world and the paint the skies from beneath the surface, its tears of light spreading outwards and painting the edge of the world in a vibrant, fiery orange, desperate to tell the world that it was still alive.

  Unlike you.

  Do you even want to live?

  And the sky would hear the sun’s message, and sorrowfully bend to meet it. The far expanses of the sky would curl into a sad greyish blue as the clouds thickened into a heavy, dark mass, their silhouettes illuminated by the falling sun.

  It would all melt into a purple, where the sky and the sun would meet. A vivid, wondrous shade found nowhere else in the world, ephemeral, lonely, miraculous.

  But I couldn’t see any of that from here.

  You can see it again.

  You can run away from it all.

  All that was there was a row of buildings that blocked out the sky, leaving behind the drab darkness of a world that slowly fell into night.

  My arms started to pull downwards, my shoulders unable to stand the weight of the axe and hammer in my hands anymore.

  “W-we should eat. I-I’m getting hungry…”

  Her words snapped me awake.

  I jolted myself up, shaking away the drowsiness that started to settle in.

  I immediately dropped the tools in my hand, tossing them to the floor.

  I could come back for them later. It wasn’t like anyone would steal them.

  ‘Hungry’.

  That word overpowered all of my thoughts.

  I ran up to my sister and snatched her wrist, pulling her with me as I desperately sprinted back to our home.

  I think she might have yelped or looked worried. I don’t know. I wasn’t looking and I didn’t care.

  None of that mattered.

  I had to fix it. Her hunger.

  Didn’t you say it was n-

  I forcefully silenced the frenzied thing inside of me, yearning to be satiated, and let a different madness overtake me.

  I had to fix it.

  I couldn’t let it progress.

  Something ugly burned inside of me, fighting against my mad fever with the call of starvation.

  That.

  I had to protect her against that.

  This thing that roared inside of me, this sickening voice that wanted to overtake me. This endless need to just lose myself and take everything.

  The unending pain and helplessness.

  The inability to change anything about your situation. The powerlessness. The surrender to nature, the admission of defeat against the vastness and loneliness of the world.

  I would never allow her to feel it.

  I would never let her feel anything worse than hunger.

  Remember the oath. At any cost.

  I pulled my sister inside of the house and forcefully shoved her towards the table.

  The unbearably tantalizing smell of that cold meat almost hypnotised me, grinding away at what little thoughts I had.

  “Eat.”

  I tore into the bag and ripped off the meat. Scalding fat dripped onto my fingers.

  I felt my eyelids grow heavy. The world started to grow dark around me. I couldn’t see much anymore.

  What was that look on my sister’s face?

  She was scared of something.

  Why?

  What?

  I was protecting her. She would be fine.

  My hazy thoughts couldn’t hold the train of thought much longer. She needed to eat.

  I pried her mouth open and shoved the piece of meat into her mouth.

  She was crying.

  Why?

  The meat was delicious, wasn’t it?

  Delicious…

  Saliva frothed inside of my mouth. My hand started to tremble. A tide of mania pulsed through me.

  No, not now.

  Later.

  After she was done.

  She was still hungry.

  “Eat,” I commanded her again, shoving more food into her mouth.

  There was something else I was going to say. I was going to tell her that I was fine, that I would eat right as she was full, but I couldn’t manage it.

  The touch of grease on my fingers corroded my consciousness. That clawing scorching inside my gut closed off my oesophagus. A mad voice wanted me to steal it all from her and take it as mine.

  But I couldn’t.

  If I did, then her hunger would continue.

  If it continued, then it would turn into this.

  I felt everything in my body start to loosen. My head hung against my will. Everything in my body started to fall away to the ground, like a puppet with its strings cut loose.

  “Eat…” I continued to whisper weakly, unable to form any more coherent thoughts.

  But before I could hand her more to eat, I suddenly blacked out for a moment.

  It became too much for me. The bottomless pit inside of me had finally hollowed out.

  Finally, that maddening presence lurking inside of me was choked out of existence.

  Everything became silent in my mind.

  Finally, peace and quiet.

  No more want. No more hysteria.

  The grease stopped burning my fingers with hunger. The bubbling and roiling disappeared down the void.

  All feeling left my arms and legs.

  I collapsed to the floor.

  “S-Sister!” She shouted frightfully, clutching me tightly.

  Why was she still scared?

  I closed my eyes.

  I was fine.

  I just-...

  Had to take a nap.

  I was cold.

  I was so… empty.

  I couldn’t form any more thoughts for some reason.

  I needed to sleep it all off, I think.

  I heard a distant voice echo as I plunged further into the sea of darkness.

  “P-please, you have to eat…” my sister continued to cry out to me.

  Something was shoved into my mouth.

  I felt like I had eaten something electric. It was unbearably hot, startling every last nerve into frightfulness.

  I chewed weakly on whatever it was.

  It tasted like home.

  Something warm travelled down my throat, briefly sending a pulse of life through the void inside of my body.

  It didn’t take long for whatever that thing was to disappear.

  It was nice.

  I wish it was less fleeting.

  Another thing came into my mouth.

  It was enough to wake me up for another brief moment.

  I was thinking about something…

  What was it I needed to do?

  …

  Oh.

  Right.

  This familiar feeling…

  This freezing nothingness that cut away all the strings from my body. This helpless emptiness that seemed so unconquerably massive. This quiet surrender to death.

  What did I call it again?

  Right.

  Starvation.

  I was starving, wasn’t I?

  My sister. I needed to keep her fed.

  I couldn’t let her feel this.

  She was loved. She would live.

  She would never have to feel this desperate.

  It was fine if she was hungry.

  Hunger was a privilege.

  Hunger was fixable.

  She just had to eat.

  I found my thoughts circling and repeating, again and again.

  At some point, I lost consciousness.