Outside the night is calm and still. I walk away from my house. Casey said she lived thirty minutes from my home, so I walk for what feels like that time, then stop. 

I'm on a quiet street. I Stare up at the inky black sky, filled with sparkling silver speckles, and listen to the sound of critters chattering safely under the cover of darkness. Deep in the bowels of my barely living belly I feel a distant memory stir and rise upwards; it rests in my mind with a soft sadness. It's the memory of my life and death.

I recall my last moment of life in Hoboken, New Jersey: a woman screaming at me, "Get outta the way kid!" The drunk driver smashed into me with such force, I felt nothing, no pain, just the swooshing sound of life being sucked from my body.

Now, standing on this quiet corner, I hear the sound of another car approach me. It travels at a speed that won't cause me harm.

The car stops right beside me, the window slides down. I keep looking at the sky, its sparkling stars soothe me. "Hi buddy, are you OK?" says a man's voice.

I pull my gaze from the stars and stoop down to the cars window, "I am Kirk," I say. The man smiles, "Hi Kirk, it's pretty late for you to be out kid. Are you looking for a ride somewhere?"

"No. I'm going to visit my friend, Casey."

"OK, where does Casey live?"

"She Lives thirty minutes from my house."

I hear a clicking sound, the car door pings open a little, "Jump in fella, I'll take you right to Casey's door."

The smell inside the car reminds me of something from life – a stale human:  smokey, unwashed, a hint of ham wafts from his breath, teasing me a little with its meaty scent.

His actions, they seem kind. He puts his hand on my knee, looks at me and smiles again. He only has three teeth.

The man drives carefully, one hand on the wheel, the other still rests on my knee. "Thank you for taking me to my friend," I say. When he smiles again, his three little teeth make me giggle a little, "That's OK buddy, but you walked for much more than a half hour, we got some way to go yet, we got a long drive ahead," he chuckles.

The man talks into his cell phone – "I've found him, he's been standing on Jacksonville Avenue looking up at the stars all night. I'll bring him right on over."

He drives onwards. The stars switch off, the sky lightens as the orange sun begins to rise.

I look out the window and watch as the sun turns yellow and settles into a bright blue sky. The drive continues.

When the car stops I am confused. This is not Casey's house...

...the man with three teeth has drove me home.

......

The man is employed by my Dad, he's an associate.

Associates are people who've dealt with the dark side to re-animate dead loved ones, only to lose them forever to triple discovery. They help parents like mine, whose re-animate's truth has been discovered once, and is in grave danger of being discovered thrice. They no exactly how to deal with partial emotional re-call cases, like mine.

......

Mom does my make-up real nice, because we're going to visit Casey and her parents.

......

Casey's house is nice. Her Mom is pretty, with a big smile that welcomes us into her home.

Dad talks about his strategy to Casey and her parents: "I've heard that Dale and Jenna are doing  Good Morning America this morning. They're ridiculously photogenic and articulate, the American public will believe their version of events. We need to speak up. But, please, Kirk can't go public, we have to protect his identity."

Mom lies convincingly, "Kirk's behavioral problems make him an unreliable spokesperson, and the media attention may have an adverse effect on him."

They talk for a long time about how best to handle the situation. I just sit there and think of nothing.

Eventually, Casey sits with me on the couch, "Kirk, I'm gonna speak up for you publicly. I need to tell our side of the story." I smile, "Will you show them the brass knuckle in Dale's pocket?" She takes my hand, "That's now in the hands of the police, it's a separate issue."

......

We leave before the reporters arrive to interview Casey. Mom cries for the whole car journey home.

......

Dad has another associate working for him in New York. As we drive, she sends him live updates from Times Square of Dale and Jenna's performance on Good Morning America. They are doing good, the interviewer is sympathetic to them. Also, the associate tells us that #whoiszomboy? is trending on twitter – globally. 

This news makes Mom become hysterical, "He's sure to be discovered, no one can hide anything in today's world. I CAN'T LOSE HIM FOREVER!" she screams. Dad pulls over and gives her one of her pills. They calm her down, make her  stare into space, just like me.

You see, part of the deal that Dad made with the dark side was that Mom would have to suffer a living hell to have my cadaver re-animated. She agreed to this, despite Dad begging her not to. I feel a little sad that she has to suffer so much pain for my wretched life in limbo. 

Dealings with the Devil do not include a joy package. 

......

At home, Mom and I sit on the couch staring at the wall. Dad comes rushing in; I read a look of excitement on his face, "Hey you guys, some good news from my associate in New York; Dale's been arrested outside the Good Morning America studios." He punches the air, "Let's make sure that jerk gets the justice he deserves." Mom's pill doesn't allow her react as she should to this news. Instead of jubilation, she gives a half hearted smile. 

Dad calls Casey with the news. She says her interview went real good and will be on NBC news this evening. Dad invites her over to watch it with us.

Mom's pills also make her sleepy, she goes to bed. Dad said this is a good thing, as he doesn't want Casey seeing her doped up.

Dad tells me how brave Casey is to be speaking publicly, "She's a real good kid, you're a lucky re-animate Kirk." Mom would freak if she heard him call me that; but that's Dad. He's a realist, he knows his son is dead and gone. He  keeps up the fantasy of my life for Mom, to make her hell a little more bearable.

......

I'm happy to see Casey. She tells Dad that the news of Dale's arrest will only be reported if he's charged with Toby's beating. "Trust me, that snake can wriggle out of anything, so let's just concentrate on defending ourselves," says Casey. Dad tells her she's very mature for her age. I don't know what that means.

The pretence of my life is a full time job for Dad, he works very hard.

I've been fed, I pose no imminent danger, so Dad says, "Casey, do you mind sitting with Kirk for a while, His Mom has a migraine, and I need to visit the store," he lies. He never goes to the store, he only ever goes out to meet with his associates.

I'm alone with Casey. She sits next to me on the couch and chats about her interview experience. When her thigh touches mine I feel a tiny tingle of human warmth; a fleeting flutter of life. It's a torment, a teasing reminder of all I've lost.

My life was taken before I had the chance to experience real love; I wonder if the little flutter I felt from Casey was it: warm, fuzzy, nice.

We are in our main show room, the place Mom affects to resemble normality. Casey looks around. I notice her eyes settle on one small framed snap shot. It's of me, Mom and Dad, taken in The New Hampshire mountains. It's the only picture of my living self, on vacation the summer before my death. Dad said it was dangerous to have it on display, but Mom insisted, "I need just one picture of Callum (that was my living name) it's only small, no one will ever notice it," she said.

I just made a big mistake: Please don't tell anyone my living name was Callum! 

Casey jumps up and grabs the picture. She stares at it, then me. I read a puzzled look on her face. She laughs and nods her head, then looks at me, "Kirk, you look so different in this picture; I can't put my finger on it, but it just doesn't look like you," she says, while searching for something in my face. I read a look of sudden realisation in her expression, "Ah, I've got it, it's your smile!" Still holding the picture, she says, "Smile Kirk." I do as she says. But my smile is learned, I can't fake the spontaneous sparkle of my living smile. 

She puts the picture down, "Yep, it's your smile, its changed," she looks at me with an expression that causes me a little concern, "Kirk, can I ask you a personal question?"

Casey has discovered something. If it's my secret, my corpse will spasm violently from the impact of two thirds emotional soul return. 

She takes my hand and looks directly into my eyes. I brace myself.