[ WP ] Faking Your Demise ( replies must be 1,000 words or more )

I feel that faking my own death was my only option, when everyone else around me was dying as well. 
 
 It ’ s been a week since the news had been announced around the world, and the Rapture had started. I still remember the feelings I had when I realized that the world was going to end: confusion, sadness, uncertainty, fear. I can ’ t fault my parents for trying to hide it from me, especially with the way the news handled it, but I was bound to find out anyways. 
 
 I still wonder how, when they discovered the list of the people who will go to heaven and to hell, my name was not on either list. It was exceptionally detailed, giving full birth names with current names, and the places each person resided in. The scientists who discovered them in the stars didn ’ t have any explanation as to how or why they hadn ’ t seen it before, but the information was right there, encoded in the light coming from a dying star. I ’ ve heard rumors that the lists also said the way each person would die, but those are just rumors. What ’ s really scary is that nobody is being born anymore, people have started dying much more quickly, and everyone is afraid because they ’ re on one of the two lists. Everyone but me. 
 
 It was difficult to get past the media the first couple of days. The newspaper had gone out of its way to list my name as being the sole individual whom was not on the massive compilation of people set to go to heaven or hell. I barely got back to my house from the drug store before people noticed me and media cars gathered around my house. They eventually left when people started not waking up, I guess I wasn ’ t interesting enough to worry about when the rest of the world was beginning to fall apart. I got to talk to my parents though, and it was pretty hard to tell them that I knew and see them fall apart. Mom was clearly very upset; she was really worried about me, while Dad was upset too, but held it in like he normally did when he got upset. When I asked them, they told me that they didn ’ t tell me because they weren ’ t sure if the whole thing was real or not, and they didn ’ t want to make a fuss. When the media arrived they still not entirely convinced, but when people started having mass-stillborns and the elderly started passing away rapidly, they knew that this wasn ’ t a joke. I got to spend time with them and I knew that they were going to heaven. I couldn ’ t see it happening any other way, and even though we had no idea what would happen to me, I told them that I wasn ’ t afraid and I ’ m sure that I ’ d get to go to heaven with them. My parents passed away two days ago in their sleep. 
 
 I ’ ve learned that the friends that I have left are growing smaller in number. I went to my best friend Kenneth ’ s house to stay. His father had died the night before, but his mother was still there and taking care of us. We watched the news and watched as the world responded to the rising events. It had been reported that over forty percent of the world had already died. There were massive vigils in some cities, riots in others, large scale baptisms were taking place, and things were getting a little crazy. It was surreal; everyone knew that they were going to die, and everyone was doing incredible things, both kind and horrible, smart and stupid, all at once. People were selling or giving away their things, hurting or killing other people, committing suicide, repenting in the streets, or retreating from society. Though, most people just stayed indoors, didn ’ t go outside, and spent time with their families. It was sad to see, but the thought that most of them went to heaven was comforting as well. 
 
 This morning, the media came back again. They found out that I had taken residence with Kenneth, and they wanted to find out what “ The Unknown Boy ” was doing while everyone else was dying and his fate had yet to be determined. They nearly broke down the weak front door by knocking so often, and there was a constant clamor outside constantly. I talked it over with Kenneth, and despite his mom giving protest, we decided the best option was for me to get away from their place, and for them to pretend I was already dead. I cut my hair, borrowed some of his clothes ( thankfully we ’ re about the same build ), and snuck out of their back yard as they opened the front door and appeased the mass of bodies that yearned to know what had become of me. As far as I know, everyone believes that I ’ m dead. 
 
 I still don ’ t know what will happen to me. Supposedly, most of the people who ’ ve died did so in their sleep. Of course, there are still other ways people are dying, but most people are afraid to sleep by now. I ’ m not really afraid though, not of sleeping. I ’ m afraid of being awake. 
 
 I checked the paper this morning. Sixty percent of the population estimated dead. Cities have been burned, societies have fallen apart, families have been separated as more and more fail to wake up each morning. The supermarkets are running out of food, and there ’ s nothing left to stock with. People don ’ t feel the need to do anything anymore now that they know they ’ re all going to die anyways. They ’ ll go to bed, and not wake up the next morning. But I ’ m still waking up. 
 
 I don ’ t know what I ’ ll do during the next few days. I ’ m terrified of the idea of suicide; I don ’ t know what would happen if I did. But, even though the world is coming to an end and I ’ m not on the list, one thing is clear: there is a God, and if I ’ m not on the list, there has to be a reason why. 
 
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 Somewhat of a continuation of my response to [ this ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1s3iid/wp_the_entire_world_has_a_secret_that_one_man_is/cdtnc1f ) prompt, I thought it's setting fit well.
