The Hauntings

Chapter 4

"LIZZIE!!" a happy scream hollers through the make up room, shrouded with mirrors, covering every wall. 

Elizabeth twizzles around on the black leather chair, just as she is sat on by a Lilly smelling, blonde haired girl, making both of them almost topple over on the shiny, wooden floor. 

"Nice to see you too, Scar." Elizabeth rasps, muffled by the engulfing, vein-strangling hug. 

"You're back! I've missed you so much! Are you better now? Of course you're better now, that's why you're here. It was so weird without you. You don't look as haunted now." She fires her words in quick succession in her hyper, loud voice.

Scarlett looks down at Elizabeth, wondering why she is not replying to her very important questions, which she's happens to be answering herself anyway. Then realises she's suffocating her friend, and untangles their limbs and stumbles up. 

"Gee thanks for noticing, you were squashing me, mate." Elizabeth gasps loudly, more for exaggeration, than for the release of the weight of the skinny girl. 

Scarlett skips to the very comfy looking sofa and crashing back into it , falling back into the role of having their daily chats of everything and anything. Laughter vibrates off the mirrors, smiles light up the room, both girls utterly at ease with each other. 

"Oh there you are Scarlett, per usual. Come on let's get ready." Another dark skinned girl with an impatient air about her, peeks through the door. "Oh nice to see your back Liz. How are you doing?" as the girl catches a glimpse of Elizabeth sprawled on the make up chair as Scarlett is slouched on the sofa opposite 

"I'm fine Bea. It's so nice to be back." Elizabeth warmly replies, with conviction for the first time in two weeks, forgetting about the mythical, demon figure, haunting her. 

"I'm so glad you're back, I've missed you so much." Beatrice gushes as Scarlett reluctantly slides off the sofa ungraciously and trudges to her. 

"Well I guess you two better hurry, I don't want to get you in trouble with The Giraffe." A name they had come up for the abnormally tall chief choreographer for Elizabeth's concerts.

They all say their goodbyes. Elizabeth sighs happily as she grabs her mascara starting the long and complicated process of preparing for her first comeback concert.

"So you guys together?" The dreaded voice asks, making her jump, almost making her stab her eye with the mascara stick, she is shakily holding. Her breathing hitches.

Crap.

"What?" she furiously turns around whisking a tissue to wipe the mess, he has once again caused. 

"You and Letty are you a couple? You looked pretty cosy to me." he persists.

Shock and confusion wash away Elizabeth's words for a few seconds, before she gathers them up again.

Letty? That's what's her Gran calls her.  Couple? 

"No. We're best friends." she snaps. 

What is wrong with you? In fact why won't you leave me alone?

"That's pretty weird behaviour for two best friends." he comments again, pursuing the topic further.

"We're best friends and have been since we've been three years old. We went to an all-girls school so personal space doesn't really exist for us, that's all. We're not gay if that's what you're trying to imply and none of us would go that way, not that there is anything wrong with liking the same gender." Elizabeth clearly states, enunciating her anger and disgrace at the personal question. 

"Oh. So personal space doesn't bother you." he smirks picking up on the most inappropriate point in Elizabeth's explanation.

"Why are you so pervy?" she fires, spinning in her chair to glare at him, whilst still trying to scrub away the dark smudge under her eye.

"So why don't you come near me?" he queries further.

Elizabeth is once dumb-founded with the question. He has placed her in the most awkward situation, once again. How could she answer him, without him finding out that he makes her nervous? 

"So you're name is Francis?" She blurts.

A change in his demeanour occurs, his face cringes in dislike as the name rolls of Elizabeth's tongue. He is perfectly aware that the name is out of date and sounds prissy. 

"It's Franchesco actually." he mummers. 

A stream of a giggle escapes Elizabeth's lips, finding humour in the stark contrast between the hardcore, too-cool-for-school image he so keenly displays and then the high class, posh name, he actually owns.

"Stop making fun of my name." Francis moans.

"Stop being so pervy then, Franchesco." She comments as she folds her arms across her arms, trying to define some sort of authority in her words.

"I can stalk you as much as I want." he replies back as he lays on the cream leather sofa, which Scarlett had been laying on minutes on.

Elizabeth opens her mouth to reply back with a few choice swear words, but the door flings open.

 "We start in fifteen, Liz!" The man dressed in black with a walkie talkie and a clip board shouts into the room. He lift his eyes, taking in the image of Elizabeth who still has her mouth open and a mascara stick pointed towards the sofa, in her brightly lit dressing room. "You OK?" he asks uncertainly. 

The backstage help, Nelson, peers further into the room, to see who Elizabeth is talking to. 

"Yeah I fine, Nelson. Why wouldn't I be?" Elizabeth replies shakily, as she lowers her arm. "Just practising for the big comeback." she coughs, trying to mask how crazy she probably appears. 

A guffaw is heard from the sofa. 

The man's eyes glance around the room, not catching the supernatural being, reclined on her sofa, practically in front of him and the loud obnoxious sound that erupts from it. This brings to light that Elizabeth, maybe is insane, as Francis is invisible to the technician. 

He says he is real but artificial things always wants to be real, like pinocchio wanted to be a real boy. I can't be pulled into this. I need to live my life and move on with this. It's just a phase. Just a phase, Liz. 

"Ok then." The curly haired man ducks out the room, confusion apparent on his face.  

Elizabeth's resolves hardens as her worries and confusion try to overcome her, again. She straightens her shoulders and slows her breathing, forcing herself into concert mode.

He'll go away, when I stop thinking of him. He will go.