let's rock n' roll

forget me not

Driller Killer's POV

She forgot about me. I couldn't really blame the girl, but damn...she's lost all her rock n' roll. Makes me feel kinda bad for her.

She had tried real hard to forget about me, that's for sure. Every day, I gave her little hints in hopes that she wouldn't be able to ignore me. How could she ignore me? I figured that when she tried to leave me behind, I couldn't just let her go that easily. It only made sense that I follow my favorite girl and her "friends" to that shabby pad in the city. Even with those chicks, it's easy to tell that she isn't any different now than she was the night that I found her.

She a big girl now, no doubt about it, but she still needs me. She is me. It's time for me to show her that rock n' roll never dies.

And that's exactly how I ended up here, watching my little filly from afar. And yeah, maybe I stole some of her bathing suits, and maybe I whistled a little melody in her ear, but so what? I knew when it would be the perfect opportunity to really get this party started, and I took it. She just looked so divine in that water. I could make her forget about her friends. I could make her forget about everything.

When I gave her that rose and whistled my tune, I could tell that there was a spark of recognition in those captivating eyes; fleeting and unwilling as it was. She didn't even run when she saw me. She just spoke in that sweet voice that I've heard countless times before, while trying futilely to find cover. Teasing her —scaring her— would have been so easy, and yet I found myself inclined to make her remember me.

"Didn't I tell you that I'd see you again, dolly?"

Oh, if only I could replay that look that she gave me over and over again forever. It was so amusing —the obvious emotions written on that pretty face when she really looked at me. Terror, sure, but also understanding. Curiosity. Relief, even. The poor thing didn't know what to think. I can hear the pitter-patter of her heart racing like a jack rabbit, and I can't help but imagine that mine would be doing the same if I still had it.

After all this time, I'm finally talking to my dolly again. I have so many things to say, but I don't need her running for the hills just yet. It can wait...I am a gentleman, after all.

"Been a while, huh? Why, back then you were just a...a pesky little thing. A lonely little thing too, if I remember right."

I give her time to process what I'm saying, lighting another cig and making an effort to not blow the smoke in her face. I know that she hates that. I know a lot about her.

"Yeah, you know I'm right. Just you, that TV, and the storm outside. Shoulda seen your face light up when you took that flower. You almost forgot that a stranger was giving it to ya'."

The details might be fuzzy for her, but I remember everything. Her little bed, the quiet static of the TV, that dresser full of glass nicknacks and picture frames, the heaps and heaps of stuffed animals. Charming, honestly. Even as a little girl, she had quite the character about herself. I guess that's why I stuck around for so long, or, at least, that's what I'll keep telling myself.

Still, she's speechless, and I realize that this isn't gonna go anywhere right now. Unfortunately, she's still human, and things like this just aren't normal. She needs time to adjust, is all. Cigarette now discarded on the deck, I snake a few steps towards her, resisting the urge to curl her hair around my fingers. She backs up, one breath away from stepping right into the pool, and I know that it's time for me to go.

"Just keep thinking that I'm imaginary, baby. Makes it so much more fun for me."

The yelp that she lets out when I push her back into the water almost makes me laugh. She doesn't know it yet, but she'll wake up and think that this was all a dream. It's gonna take more than a one sided conversation to convince her. Don't wanna go making her think that she's crazy or something, either. I gotta have patience. And I really hate being patient.

your POV

When my eyes finally open again, I'm laying on my back on the pool deck. My vision is blurry, but I can tell that one of the guys is leaned over me; the girls' panicked voices becoming clearer by the second. With some effort, I'm pulled to my feet and whisked inside —not before casting one last glance at the pool.

My friends obviously question me —concerned about my condition and suspicious of my inability to swim, and I answer them as best as I can. In all honesty, I don't mention the man that I saw. Why? Just because I don't want to seem crazy, I guess. I mean, I almost drowned on the first day of our trip —wouldn't be the best time for me to spout some nonsense about an imaginary friend who wears leather and smokes cigarettes.

Needless to say, I spend the rest of the day looking over my shoulder. I try not to think about all of the things that have happened to me that must have been related to that stranger. When night falls, it's hard for me to get comfortable in my bed. Unsurprisingly, Matt decides to be a gentleman and offer to sleep in my room; to which I politely decline.

Perhaps it's because part of me was worried about his safety too. It seems so ridiculous for me to be scared of something that isn't even real, but I can't bring myself to take any chances. I really do sound crazy...but the rose that I find on my bed makes me think otherwise. Soft; shimmering red, just like the one that was presented earlier in my "dream". A dream...that's all that it was.

So what if I remember that voice? So what if that devilish smile looks so familiar? It was only a dream...only my imagination. I'll forget about it by tomorrow. We made this trip to have some fun and let loose, and I'll be damned if I let some ghost man ruin that for me.

I don't keep the rose because of him...I just keep it because it smells nice...