You can’t kill a man when he’s dead.

The lyrics taunt me and I smirk. It must look insanely out of place, but it may let me plead insanity in court for this. I glance up at the camera. I want it to catch this, because I don’t quite believe it myself.

Two weeks ago I sat in a stuffy church in a suit and tie alongside fellow members of the team, staring at anything but the cool, pale face propped just above the edge of the cherry coffin lined in white. My shoes reflected the floral arrangements around the box and if I tilted them just right I could pretend it was someone else in there.

I went to the gym to workout and think. It was late, so it really creeped me out when the shadow I thought was following me materialized as my best friend. Instinct hefted the weight and threw it. Heart racing, I moved closer, almost remorseful, as the body seemed unconscious.

Then it moved. It’s eyes met mine. They were.. not right. I hit him again, screaming with fear, until those eyes stayed closed.

I shivered and ran.