Better Off Dead (Kellic) ✔️

11: Kellin

**Kellin's POV**

I had come to the point of giving up. Though however much I wished that it wasn't true, I figured that I would just have to accept the fact that I was dead. There was just no way that this was all simply a bad dream. Right?

And if it were, well then fuck, I would surely need some heavy-duty therapy after finally waking up.

I sighed as I dropped myself on my bed -correction; Vic's bed- and buried my face into a pillow. "Fuck!" I groaned desperately. "Seriously, just... fuck!"

"Are... are you in here?" I then heard Vic's voice ask, very carefully.

I lifted my head off the pillow and looked at him.

"Wait, are you... are you on my bed?" I figured that Vic must've noticed the dint in the bed that made up for my weight. Since when did ghosts weigh anything though? I quickly pushed the thought from my mind. Nothing made sense anyways, so why would this? "Okay, well, never mind that. Can we talk? Well, I don't know if you can talk, so... I'll do the talking, but... just listen, please."

I snorted at Vic's slightly nervous behavior. He was acting like a total high school nerd who was about to ask his big crush out on a first date, expecting to be rejected or something.

Vic then threw a file on the bed and awkwardly started to move the mirror around the room. I then picked up the file with two fingers and inspected the front page.

Los Angeles Police Department, it read.

Vic flinched as he turned towards me, probably seeing nothing but the floating file above the bed, and then he sighed. As he placed the mirror at the foot of the bed, he sat down and basically snatched the file from my fingers.

"Am I right when I tell you that your name is Kellin Quinn Bostwick?" He then casually asked, as he looked into the mirror and right at me.

I concentrated hard, something I had been working on for a few days, and glanced over for a moment, nodding as my eyes diverted back to the file. Yep, that was my name. I preferred the simple Kellin Quinn though. I never much liked my last name. But that didn't matter anymore, did it?

"Okay, well... this is a file from the LAPD, with a report from the morgue and stuff..." Vic nervously cleared his throat and flipped the file open to the first page. "I don't really know how to tell you this, but... you... you died, man. Nearly three months ago. The file says that they never determined what from. They just found you, dead, on the floor, by the basement door. No sign of anything... besides maybe a slightly damaged liver, but not bad enough to kill you."

"Well that's not surprising." I murmured to myself. I knew that I was quite the drinker. But that wasn't the point. "So, I'm dead, huh?" I then blankly added, expecting, or more like hoping, that I would wake up any moment now.

But it was time to let go of that expectation, because here it was; a signed file that confirmed my death. My weird, mysterious death. It even had a picture. It showed my face; even paler skin than usual, blue lips, and a death-like stare.

That's when it became real. Really real.

"Now I just wanna know..." Vic then continued. "Why are you still here? Do you remember what happened to you?"

And that was the big problem. I didn't remember a thing. But I kind of figured it had something to do with that damn basement. It had to, right?