"So when were you going to tell me about the whole 'not being alive ' thing?"
"I was hoping..never. It’s not something I’d like to discuss. Besides, why do you care?"
She looked at him indignantly “did you really just ask why I…care? Wait, what?”
She sighed “never mind.” She rubbed her temples. “Can I ask when it happened? How many years?…”
"Eighteen years. I died when I was barely a year old. I was sick. So my mom took me to a special doctor. But he couldn’t find anything. He missed something important and because of that, I didn’t live to see my second birthday." Gabriel clenched his fists, never having forgiven that doctor for letting a child die. "I died screaming and in indescribable pain."
She looked at him for a while, unsure how to respond to this revelation. “But…how are you still here? Why…why have you aged?”
Gabriel thought for a moment. “I don’t really know how I aged. I’m under the impression I am what my mom made me. She wanted me to live. She wouldn’t let me go.”