When I died, I didn't even realize it. What set me was that I didn't have a pulse. Pulling my fingers away from my neck (after having previously felt the other side, both wrists, and my chest) I started to panic. I took deep breaths, preparing to stop breathing as if my heart had somehow just stopped working-and everything was normal.
So I lived my life normally, or as normally as I could. Only other dead people could see me, so it wasn't hard to eliminate potential boyfriends.
A hoe, even in death.
"I'm dead, wanna hook up?" I said to the cute blond boy sitting on the bleachers. It took him a second to respond, but when he did, it was priceless.
"You're dead too?" He shot up from his previous slouched position and stared me in the eyes. I saw that, just like mine, his eyes had faded to a grayish version of what they were before.
I used to have the most beautiful green eyes, a gorgeous emerald color, being one of the only things I actually liked about myself. So once I died and saw they'd gone gray, I wondered if you could kill yourself when you were already dead.
"Yeah." I said to the boy, sitting down next to him. "How'd it happen with you?"
He looked down, composure going sad at my mention of his demise.
"There was a shooting. I...I was visiting my younger sister's school, and..."
"I'm sorry." I tried to comfort. I was never that good at giving solace to people.
"It's fine, I guess." He replied. He looked like he didn't mind talking about it, but it made him sad nonetheless. Despite being horrible at comforting, I could read people like open books, a gift that apparently carried over to the afterlife.
"She didn't die. She's in a coma right now, actually." He continued.
My heart broke for the blonde boy and his family.
"Aw, I'm...really sorry...I don't know your name." I stated.
"Patrick." He looked at me and smiled slightly. "And you?"
"I actually don't know." It was my turn to look sad. "I don't remember my name, or how I died, or my family...I really don't know how it happened. I probably had a concussion or something. I met this one doctor a couple days ago, he had killed himself, he told me I most likely suffered trauma to..like...some part of my brain, something about a cortex. Man, I don't know."
Patrick stared at me, looking amused.
"Sorry, I'm rambling."
"It's okay," he said, smiling and taking my hand. "You look like a Brooke. And to answer your question, yes, I'm dead too, and I'd like to hook up."
