Jaeden sluggishly fluctuated upwards, his vision gradually adjusting to his surroundings. His mind instantly sobered up as the recollection of what had unfurled sparkled through his brain in a videotape-like sequence, from the queer noises downstairs, to the short showdown against the robber, and eventually to his subsequent death.

He could clearly remember his bereft of life body tumbling down betwixt his mother's screams, blood crowning his head like the last decoration of honor of a fallen soldier. He was no soldier, though. Jaeden was just another soul gone too early by virtue of someone's iniquity.

His violaceous wispy body writhed around, taking in the distinct shortage of decor. Most electrical appliances were missing, presumably hurriedly taken away alongside portraits and smaller furnishings, leaving dusty layers behind, whereupon dust specks danced in the dim ray of light that peered through the blinds.

Jaeden was horrified, before he hastily floated his way upstairs and into the master bedroom where he skidded to a halt. Empty. It was virtually bare, with no shred of anyone living there for quite a while, not certainly his mother whose traces seemed to have bated away from the house.

Not giving up, he trundled to his younger sister's room, but the outcome was the same, her belongings were lacking, like an acidulous etching that overlapped with the familiar image he could still recall, so contrasting with the spoiled room he was in, seemingly a dichotomy that helmed him to the bitter truth.

He was alone.

The bathroom. The dining room. The kitchen. You name it, and it was utterly devoid of items.

However, the only place that actually retained a smidge of its former appearance was the living room, where he was murdered, dried blood mottling the wooden floor, a deathbed he had spent his last moments on.

Jaeden was swaddled in bitterness. It was that man's fault; he had caused this.

Now he wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, but no one was there to hear him rage. He felt bottled up with a plethora of negative emotions, that like a ticking bomb, were waiting the right moment to explode and swallow him within.

He reluctantly sidelined his feelings for an important problem quietly buoyant at the corner of his vision. Two computer-like screens, pitch black with an amethyst glow around the perimeter were floating about. Floating. Jaeden had already been aware of this foreign thingy following him around during his reconnaissance. But he was so drunk in his restlessness that it seemed like a negligible prank set up by his mind.

Or maybe that angel.

The content inside the rectangle-shaped boxes, despite simple and understandable, begot more questions. He hadn't the scantest of ideas what had happened to him, just the cognizance of a boiling desire to consume his vengeance upon George. A vengeance left unfulfilled. The rest went down along his consciousness.

"How long have I been out for?" Jaeden absentmindedly asked out aloud.

"What the..." he reflexively recoiled when another screen bounced up, overlapping the previous ones, "You can answer?" his orbic body flickered for an instant, "What the heck are you?"

"Is this a joke?" Jaeden blurted out indignantly, "A system? A weapon?" the information came like a relentless freight that hammered into his head, "A month...?" then came the realization. He had uncarefully dismissed that tidbit of news, yet his surroundings were the clearest proof that time had obviously left its edge in this place; especially considering the excess of dirt, something neither his mother or his sister would have endorsed to stain their immaculately clean house.

"No wonder..." he murmured plaintively, his caged back emotions now knocking stronger than before, "They left..." his ectoplasmic anatomy flared, "Am I alone now? No... maybe they'll come back... yes... maybe..." his subconscious self-defense revved his troubling thoughts away.

The ethereal amethyst glow snatched back his attention onto the box that still lingered there, silently waiting for his regard. He acquiesced, "Yes." another window quickly followed up.

Jaeden felt like the whole situation was ridiculous, however, with nothing to distract himself with but wallowing in his own desperation, the current alternative was way better in his book. He had no appendages to avail himself of, so he tried speaking out loud, "Overview."

"So simple..." he expected something grander but that was fine too, "Ectoplasmic Orb?" was that what he was? It was confusing but overall not that hard to comprehend, still, he couldn't bring himself to trust those windows, for all he knew it was a post-mortem symptom, or something else altogether.

"Go... back?"

It really went back. Jaeden studied the remaining buttons before settling on, "Inventory." it had a pulsing red '1' on its right, like a social media's unchecked notification, so that was bound to contain something within.

Jaeden was surprised when a leather book suddenly materialized amongst bubble-like purple lights, the aforementioned name of the book printed on its black surface in a silvery color. It was not peculiarly thick, but it didn't look like something readable in a short amount of time either.

He stared at it, nonplussed, "How am I supposed to open it up?" as if on cue, the book in question slowly stilled as the front cover slid open exposing a worn-out whitish page where the table of contents was drafted on in a pellucid and elegant calligraphy.

With nothing else to do, he delved himself in this foreign piece of literature that might or might have not been made up by his deteriorating sanity.

Nneeil

Oh boi... these tables are so annoying, I might have to change back to the square brackets... ugh..