Ghost of a girl

This story contains themes mentions of self harm, and assumed sex. Without further adue or however the fuck you spell that word, enjoy!

The funeral is dreary, akin to the birthday party of a depressed emo girl. The rain is pouring down on the guests, as if the weather itself is weeping. I, on the other hand, am sulking in the corner staring at my dead body in the coffin. Now, I just want to make it clear. I am not sulking because I’m dead, though that is a slight annoyance. No, I am sulking because whoever chose the décor clearly is either blind or just really bad at decorating. I watch as my mother, in a black satin dress steps to the podium, eyes puffy, and clears her throat.

“Iris was truly beloved. Respected. And she shall be missed dearly-“ Mom chokes back a sob and wipes her eyes quickly. “She was far too young, as we all agree,” She sniffles. “And it was truly a shame she felt the only way out was through death.”

Okay, so I just got to clarify. I did not commit suicide. Yes, I’m depressed, but not that depressed. Just because I listen to Twenty One Pilots and My Chemical Romance on repeat, have romantic fantasies about what dying truly is, and my funeral does kind of look like the type of birthday party I would want, I have coping mechanisms. Just not good ones. But no, it isn’t my fault I’m dead. I’m like a politician in the sense that it is never my fault. It is all Ellie’s. I glance over at her. She is staring at my body. Well, staring is the wrong word. More like through it.

“Such a terrible thing, but I want you all to know, it was not our fault. What happened is in the past, and that’s where you should leave it.”

My mom is right that it is not their fault. It’s only Ellie’s. As much as I resent Ellie for killing me, I have to give credit where credit us due. It was smart of her to pass it off as a suicide. The note was a nice touch, since I probably would write all that stuff. She was a weird friend, the type of friend you go to when you need to cry to Twenty One Pilots new album, or just were stressed out by life. That’s why she knew all reasons I would commit suicide.

And murdering me was justifiable, to be fair. I have done some bad things. I broke her best friends heart. I’ve made fun of her (But lovingly, we’re friends). But the real reason she killed me is probably because I made out with her girlfriend.

Look, it was a late-night party. The type of party where the alcohol was illegal since we are all underage, and the decisions are probably also illegal since we are teenagers. Ellie had known I had a crush on her girlfriend. Hell, everyone had a crush on Trish. She was hot, funny, sweet, basically everything you could ever want in a girl. I’m not sure how Ellie managed to pull her.

I was drinking my spiked Kool-Aid, eying Trish, as you do, when she walked over, bright red lipstick making her emerald eyes pop.

“Iris, I just love that dress on you. It looks so cute. You’ll have to tell me where you get your clothes! Though I must say, they would look much better on my floor.” Trish smiles, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous gleam, and her words slightly slanted, in that signature drunk party girl way,

Now, I know that she is Ellie’s girlfriend, but I also know that when the girl you have had a crush on since kindergarten and made you realize that you’re a wee bit lesbian walks over and starts flirting with you, what are you supposed to do?

“Be honest, were you dared, or do you just really want to piss of Ellie?” I sip my synthetic fruit punch, which I now notice match Trish’s lips in color. Her smile dulls a little, and she looks around before leaning forward.

“Iris, I’ve actually liked you for a while.” Her voice is barely a whisper, and I can smell the alcohol. “I just can’t seem to tell you, it’s the most silly thing.” She leans back out with a smirk, and immediately staggers over her feet. “So really what I’m trying to say is I like, like like you. You’re always so hot, it makes me wish I-“

Before she can finish the sentence, my lips have *accidently* landed themselves on hers. Her breathe had tasted of liquor and that ELF lipstick she was wearing. After that, I don’t remember anything much. We left the party together, might’ve hooked up, and passed out on a park bench. The problem is that I don’t know if Ellie saw it. I mean, I don’t know why else she would do it.

I glance at Trish, who is bawling, her mascara running and emerald eyes puffy and red, a color akin to the lipstick and Kool-Aid from that night I wish I could say I regret, then back at Ellie. She looks relatively the same. Her eyes are slightly more focused though, staring at my body straight on. And her face. Now, instead of that blank expression of someone clearly dissociating, her mouth has spread to a small cruel grin.

“And now, Iris’ close friend, Ellie, will come up and say a few words.” My mom managed to choke out, before collapsing into her chair, the tears suddenly flowing freely, Ellie wipes her face clean and stands, taking a step forward to the mic. A watch her as intensely as you can watch your murderer who is about to make a speech about you.

“As said, Iris will be missed. She was a great friend. Whenever I was sad, she was there to bring me up. Whenever I was mad or in a fight with someone, she always new how to calm me down. What a shame her decisions led to this. What. A. Shame.” She paused, and looked me dead in the eyes.