The Ghost Of You

III

"You find out what you think by talking to yourself."
-Robert Harris

It's not what you think it is, Quint.

It probably is, Quint.

Why are you talking to yourself, Quint?

It's funny how I can easily have an argument between myself and always win. The perks of talking to yourself.

What did those markings mean? They're nothing I've ever seen before in my life. Like, seriously I though they were huge ass hickies.

Sadly, they weren't.

I stepped back was from my blue corpse, hanging on the gaze of where I found the red marks. I'm getting real tired of, pretty much, not going anywhere from here. Finding a wound or a hickie gives me something, but not knowing what it is doesn't lead me anywhere. Oh, the pain of imitating a detective. So then again, I decided to sit on the grass again and watch the continuation of my own funeral.

Is it really bad to hate funerals? Cause' I do.

You go to a church or someplace to see, or maybe not see, a dead body that you knew was once alive. Then, you hear these cheesy speeches on how great they are and how they're going to be missed. There was no point to a speech if you're saying they're great, but are dead. It's better to say how great or awesome they were when they were, I don't know, STILL ALIVE!? Ridiculous isn't? The point of eulogies are idiotic.

Maybe they do eulogies so the ghost of the dead person can hear it, just one last time. I wonder, if any of the funerals I've ever been to, there was a ghost of the dead person. That's be so creepy, but hey I'm doing that now so it isn't that creepy. That'd definetly make sense if the eulogies were for the ghost of the corpse.

I sighed, completely uninterested in this funeral..my own funeral. I slowly got up and just left, walking all the way home. Hey! Maybe there's some clues in my house! Like they always say, home is where the haunting is.

I walked down the streets, seeing a bunch of living people living their life.(see what I did there?) Some were jogging or running, while the younger ones were chasing each other or playing with toys. I put my hands over my head and sighed again. I won't be able to do any of that, I won't be able to live my own life ever again. I don't believe in second chances, so I do believe that I won't be able to live a life again.

After about twenty minutes, I reached my house. It looked gloomier than before and emptier. What am I saying? Of course it's empty, no one is at home.

Stupid Quinten.

I walked up and grabbed the doorknob, when suddenly, my non-existent brain filled with memories. I saw one where, I was only two and saw Quill for the first time, being held by my mother walking through the door as one of my aunts were watching me. There was another one of me, walking in with a kind of drunk Warren. He was leaning on my arm and I just threw him to the couch and went to bed.

God I'll miss making memories.

I walked through the doors, looking all around the house. I looked at the faded green dinner table, remembering where I'd always sit whenever I ate. Then I looked at the couch, remembering where I'd always lay down or sat with my friends. I won't be able to sit in those same places. I won't be able to do anything anymore.

Unless...

I continue to wonder if I can actually go back to life. Can I really? Is it possible to restart it all and stop whatever I did wrong to end up dead? It's not like I can just go back to my body, because I'm pretty sure the time I figure out my death, my body will be six feet in the ground.

I continued to loom through all the halls, glancing at family photos and young pictures from the past. I followed my way upstairs, where my room was. Once I first stepped on the stairs, my mind flurried with memories. Probably because so much have occurred on these steps, like when I was 10 and wasn't paying attention. Ended up with me on the bottom of the staircase with a mild concussion. The other was with the amazing Serena.

We were hanging out on the stairs, since the couch was filled with Quill and Quill's friends. My hand was intertwined with her soft hands as we both read something for American History.

Serena was really focused on what she was reading, since she was a pretty good student. Most of the time, I glanced at what she was doing and just...admired her. I never thought I'd have such a great girlfriend like her. But then I got curious to what she thought of me.

"Hey babe?" I interrupted,"What do you think of me?"

Without looking up she replied,"What do you mean?"

"I mean like, why did you go out with me in the first place?"

"Quint," she paused,"I love you. There's a lot of things I love about you babe. You're amazing, you're handsome, you're intelligent, and youre an extremely nice guy."

I glanced at her and waited, till' she stopped saying the most used reasons on Earth.

She smirked and continued,"I love you because you gave me something to live for. You helped me through times when I was at my lowest point. You are my world baby."

I smiled at what she said and quietly muttered,"I l-love you."

Serena took her eyes off the book and looked at me with wide eyes,"W-What did you say?"

"I LOVE YOU SERENA HAILE!"

She became all red and flustered at what I said because I was way too shy to say those three important words to her. Serena was the first to say it, and two weeks later I said it.

"Hey! Keep it down you lovebirds! We're playing a game!" Hollered Quill in the living room.

Me and Serena just chuckled and continued doing homework. What memorable day for both Serena and I.

Serena...I wonder how she's taking this. God I'm going to miss her. I'm going to miss kissing that face of hers, I'm going to miss holding her hands, I'm going to miss everything.

I took a deep breath to relax and to calm down. It was hard to calm down, too many memories going through my mind, unable to create anymore. As I continued to the top of the stairs, the flow of memories stopped.

I walked into my room, seeing the same fixtures in their regular spots. I looked under the bed, only meeting with dust bunnies, then in the closet where all my clothes hung, then searched into each cabinet of my desk, finding only papers and other useless items.

Damn, I expected something would be here. I took out all the papers and read all over them, only finding old homeworks and idiotic drawings.

There was one piece of paper, all folded and crumbled up. Unfolding it, memories flashed before my eyes. All I saw was this dark empty room, with nothing at the matter. All I heard was soft crying and muffled screaming, burying the sound of somber music. The memory lasted for atleast five minutes before I went back to normal.

That's so strange, that looked like my room.

I unfolded the letter all the way, seeing lined paper with smeared penmanship. It was easy enough to read though.

'What doesn't kill you, makes you wish you were dead.

I thought what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, but I guess it can also make you want to die.

Song lyrics are the closest things to what I want to say. Music is such an amazing discovery to mind and shows self-expression.

It is possible to go with any mood, no matter how gloomy or even happy it is.

Even if it shows the darkest messages.'

Then the rest of the paper looked like it was burnt. The penmanship didn't look anything like my handwriting and had this fancy lookin' style. If it's not mine how did it end up here? It couldn't have just magically appeared out of nowhere. Maybe, it could be one of my friends, or sister or even Serena. But honestly, I have no idea what it is and doesn't really give me much of a clue. The question still stands though.

Who's letter is it?