Don't Forget Me

Chapter Nine

I did not have a car, a bike, or any other type of transportation, besides the legs that took me farther than I expected. I shoved the hospital door open and wrote a note to the receptionist.

"What room is Dylan Burnett?" it read.

I normally used this way of communicating with others, especially if they weren't dying yet.

I poked the lady behind the desk, and she woke up, aware of someone's presence, yet unaware of mine.

She eventually found the note and hesitantly wrote "Room 17, floor 3" in response.

I grabbed that note, much to her surprise, and dashed to the elevator. I'm not sure why I bothered to hurry, since I knew the outcome like the back of my hand. It wasn't the first time I'd lost someone important- but hopefully it is the last.

"Come on, come on, come on..." I muttered, watching the floor number go up at the speed of a turtle.

At some point, I got to floor three, and made my way to room 17. Made my way to my dying love's room.

Made my way to Dylan.

I creaked open the door, not wanting to slam it open, as if the sudden noise would kill him, but wanting to rush to his side at the same time.

I shut the door quietly behind me.
Looking at him, chest rising and falling, connected to so many machines around the room, sleeping peacefully, I had a sudden idea.

What if I could save him?

"Dylan!" I softly called. "It's me, Ashlynn."

That felt so natural, after we've met before, countless times in my dreams.

"I-I'm pretty sure you don't know an 'Ashlynn', huh?" I said, awkwardly.

"Ash... lynn..." He muttered while in his sleep.

Oh no, that means he knows my presence here. When people know that I exist, it's impossible to...

No.

I'm not giving up, like I did for the rest of my family. This is the first time that I'm going to try saving someone, and it will succeed.

Right?

"Ashlynn." He said again, just a little louder.

"Yes," I said, nearly speechless. He continued to mumble, but only at a volume where I'm the only one to hear him. This can't be a dream.

"Tar...tar Sauce. You... are Tar-" he coughed out, until it was too much for him to speak.

"It's okay, Dylan. Don't talk." I moved my hands to his shoulders to hold him down, so he won't fall out of the hospital bed.

"It's okay."

His eyes gradually fluttered open, and it was like watching everything in worse-than-the-elevator-slow motion.

"Hey." He greeted me. "You're the girl at the lake."

"And you're the guy who escaped death." I replied, looking at a machine to the right of him. I was so dumbstruck that I just realized what he said.

"Wait. What lake?" I asked.

"The one at the park, next to Tartar
Sauce. Of course, that's all in here," Dylan tapped his head. "I'm really glad to see you."

See... me? I had so many questions that needed to be answered. He told me about his dreams, and I told him about mine.

He gave me his cellphone, showing me my non-existent reflection to prove that I really do exist, but I don't.

Maybe I am a ghost. I never realized it sooner, that my reflection didn't exist, since I usually get ready using my own judgement.

"When I'm better, let's go see your grave or something then," he joked.

"But, don't you want to hang out with someone more human?"

"There's no one more human than you," he said, "Every other person I've meet just cares about me, as if I'm a new pet or something."

"I'm a ghost, though and you-" he cut me off with his grin and his index finger.

"Shh."

A nurse came to check up on him, and was happy to see that he woke up. She looked around the room and smiled at me, then left to tell someone else, possibly Dylan's family.

Did I just get noticed by someone who isn't dying?

"As I was saying, I'm a ghost." I continued.

"Then all the more reason to love you."

Those words were oddly familiar, but they proved this is far from a dream.