Blurred Tattoo

Beep. Beep. Beep. Click. Ah, just a normal day, the sun shining through the window filling this room with joy, illuminating the day and the misty places of my mind. There is only one place that the light does not touch in my mind, and I sit in my sky blue chair in the corner of my grass green room. My tattoo that I have had since birth had always been a little fuzzier than the others, but I had anything of it. I had thought I was going to day two days after my fifteenth birthday, so I lived my life in a monotone of black and grey for the past year. I had went to bed yesterday expecting not to awake to the monotone, and I was right I not living black and grey, but I was also wrong because I did not die forever entrapped within the a suit of the monotone life. All I have now is a brain in my possession. If I am 'dead' now that means that the body collectors are coming, I guess I had better get out. My parents must have let them a key under the mat out front and the collectors come at 12:00 on day after death. "What time is it?" I said to myself. 11:30 dang it, I don't have long to get out then. "What will I need?" I muttered under my breath while jumping out of chair, ran out of my room, dipping my hand down to snag my dirt brown backpack while on my way to the kitchen. "I need food," I said thinking out loud again, "Rice, beans, protein bars, water, and more water." All together I had three gallons of water, but just in case I have to get together parts need for a water purifying device. "Now what will I need?" I said to myself, " I'll take this, and this, maybe this, thank God we have a cat 'cause I'll need this, this, this, and finally this. Empty gallon jug? Check. Two sponges? Check. Scissors? Check. Cat litter? Check. Large pot? Check. Chemistry set? Check." KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. I heard three knocks like trees being felled by lumber jacks at the door. Which raised a single question, why would they knock? It didn't matter now; I just had to get out. I quickly pushed open the garage door, quietly closing it behind me as I heard the body collectors enter. Slowly opening the back door of the garage, and backing out I see my father's knife scooping it up in hands I had an idea. What if I spied on them? I was armed, 'dead', young, and curious, but how? "Ah, the ladder," I mumbled to myself quietly as I remembered the ladder that my dad had put up to fix the gutters by my room's window. Crawling through the deep green grass to the edge of the ladder, where I gently put down my back pack down. As I started up the ladder, I put my knife in my mouth as I had always seen the pirates do in my childhood movies. Looking through the window I saw that they were looking around my room in a disinterested fashion. Then turning to one another one said,
"Well where is he Jim?" One of the collectors said. The one I assume to be Jim responds,
"I don't know Bill." Bill then states with a cold look,
"We might have another runner." I immediately say to myself,
"What's a runner and there have been more?"
"Hey, Jim did you here that?" Bill inquired. As soon as he said this I stared to slowly back down the ladder.
"Hear what Bill?" Jim said thinking he was imagining things
"It might have been nothing, but I sounded like it was coming from the window" Bill said skeptically as he walked towards the window.
"Almost there," I accidentally said out loud again, "And I'm down." I grabbed my backpack, took the knife out of my mouth and started to run.
"Ah-Ha, it was our runner that I heard, Jim!" Bill yelled. That was the last I heard from them as I entered the forest. I knew not where I was going, only that I could not turn back.