Drunk Girl, Dead Boy

I closed my eyes to stop the world from spinning. The lights, the people, the sounds, they all blurred together before me, making me dizzy. I knew I shouldn't have done those last shots.

l looked down at my legs, my poor feet suffering inside those damn heels. I wanted to rip them off and set them on fire, but I wasn't going to risk walking barefoot. Though I didn't regret anything that had happened in the last six hours, I knew that was going to change. Tomorrow, I would wake up with my feet full of blisters, an awful hangover, and some light form of hypothermia. Definitely not looking forward to that.

I rubbed my arms with my hand and willed myself to walk faster. The streets seem to move with every step I took, which didn't help my case. Why the hell haven't I taken a cab home? I chided my cheap ass but continued walking. It was too late for that. I had committed to walking home already. And I wasn't even that far from my place, a few blocks tops.

Whining with every step, I finally made it outside of my apartment. The world has stopped spinning; I could feel the cold air sobering me up. Feeling more optimistic, I forgot about the pain and closed the distance between me and the front door. I had gotten to my home, safe, which was so much more than what so many unfortunate girls could say. And, who knew, maybe the cool breeze would also prevent any mayor hangovers that would come my way.

Of course, I jinxed it. I should have known better than to celebrate before actually being tucked in bed with a glass of water. As I pressed the elevator button—I refused to walk anymore—I saw a blurred silhouette through the corner of my eye. A mop of blonde hair, a red jacket. Biting the inside of my cheek, I turned around, expecting it to be a drunken hallucination. But it wasn't. Instead, I found an actual person, with a big smile from ear to ear, staring directly at me from outside the building. Damn you, glass doors.

At any other moment, it wouldn't have been such a big deal. Creepy guys are everywhere—I know from experience—but this was a lot more complicated than that. No matter how drunk or exhausted I was, I knew who he was. I would have recognized him anywhere.

Closing my eyes, I counted to ten, breathing in and out. Feeling my heartbeat a little bit calmer, I looked back at the door, but there was no one there. Not a single trace of the nightmare I had just encountered. It must have been a mistake, I told myself.

The elevator door opened with a chime and I jumped, still on edge.

I entered the steel box, wanting to get out of the lobby as fast as possible. A sigh of relief escaped me when I took my heels off, feeling the cold floor underneath my fingers.

With my shoes in one hand and my tiny purse in the other, I walked out of the elevator while struggling to find my keys. I shook the bag lightly, but the tell-tale jingle of the keys never came. Throwing the heels on the welcome mat in front of my door, I tried finding them again. And, like last time, they weren't there. Inside my purse, I saw my cellphone, wallet, and a tub of red lipstick that I was ninety percent sure wasn't mine. But no keys.

"I can't believe this, you stupid idiot." I murmured to myself. "Why did you have to go and lose your keys?" I slumped to the floor, on the verge of tears. What was I supposed to do now? It was two in the morning and my spare keys were two hours away in my parent's house.

In a stroke of brilliance, I took out one of the bobby pins holding my hair in its ponytail. It always worked in movies, so why not? With my phone, I found a tutorial that was supposed to teach me all sorts of criminal tactics to break into my own apartment. Flawless plan, except I was still a bit drunk and the video was less than perfect. There was no way in hell I was going to accomplish anything, but I wasn't coherent enough to realize that.

For the longest time, I tried shaping my weapon the best I could to try to pick the lock. After the third failed attempt, I heard a snicker. I turned around, eyes narrow, and scanned the hallway. When I realized there wasn't anyone there, I continued with my mission. The laughter continued, but I decided I didn't care. It's coming from one of the other apartments, I told myself, proud I was rational enough to think of that.

After the eighth—and last—bobby pin broke, I screamed of frustration. What was I thinking? My eyes welled with tears; my cheeks felt hot. I let them fall, not bothering to wipe them off. I didn't even want to think of the mess my makeup must have been at that moment.

"Don't cry." The voice came from behind me, but I didn't even bother to turn around. No matter how defeated I felt, I wasn't going to let anyone see me like this. And, most of all, I did not want to socialize with some random, nosy neighbor.

"Come on, get up."

I didn't. "Please, go away."

He didn't say anything and, for a second, I thought he was gone.

"I didn't want to bring this up, but you owe me. Kind of."

That caught my attention. I turned around, expecting some middle-aged man in a rope, and froze. Standing in front of me was the same blonde man, dark eyes looking at me with both amusement and concern. He looked just like I remembered. He wore the same red jacket and a shirt that might have been white if it hadn't been covered in blood. Dust covered his clothes and tiny cuts were littered through his arms and face.

There was no way, this couldn't be happening.

"What...what are you doing here?" I moved backward, never taking my eyes off him until I bumped into the wall. "You're dead. I killed you."

He raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Wow, I had almost forgotten about that."

He took a step towards me and I flinched.

"What are you doing here?" My voice was a mere whisper.

"I'm not supposed to tell you." I didn't say anything, waiting for a less vague answer, but it never came. Instead, he took another step towards me. "Look at you, you're shaking."

Startled, I realized he was right; I hadn't even noticed. With a deep breath, I tried to stop the shivers.

"Are you real? Am I in hell?" I couldn't think of a better explanation.

Extending his arm, his hand moved towards mine. It was the lightest of touches, barely there, but enough for me to feel him. He felt solid and cold, like any other human walking in a chilly winter night could have been. It wouldn't have been the first time I dreamt about this blonde boy, but never like this; never so real.

"I'm... you are not in hell." He sighed and opened his mouth several times before the words came out. "I was assigned to haunt you."

I almost felt like laughing, though I wasn't sure if it was due to the shock or the ridiculous explanation. I scanned his face, wanting to believe this was some kind of practical joke, but he was dead serious.

"This is not funny. What the hell is going on?" I was louder this time, feeling more annoyed than scared. "Tell me the truth."

"I am."

I snorted. Though I still felt numb, the initial shock had worn off. "You expect me to believe you are here to haunt me? Because, no offense, you are not doing a very good job so far."

I wanted to punch myself. Though I didn't have a lot of experience, I knew criticizing a ghost wasn't the way to go. What if he took it like some sort of challenge? I liked my life like it was, without any haunting of any time.

He didn't seem angry, just annoyed. "I know, I know. That's what I keep hearing. Anyway, I can't tell you more."

"Why not?"

"Because confessing my mischievous intentions is not the best way to scare you half to death."

"Why would you want to scare me half to death, though?"

"Because they told me too, duh."

Of course, duh. I wanted to laugh. I probably would have if I wasn't so damn confused.

"But you are telling me now. It defeats your purpose." I mentally kicked myself. Again.

"I couldn't help it. You looked so sad, drunk and trying to pick up a lock as if you were in some kind of Mission Impossible."

I opened my mouth, ready to fight his ridiculous insults when I realized he was right. I was being pathetic and, if the roles were reversed, I would have definitely been laughing. Still, I didn't appreciate a ghost feeling pity for me.

"So what now?" I asked. I didn't know what to do, what to say. I didn't even know this guy's name.

"Now, you go to sleep. You forget everything that happened tonight. I'm pretty sure those tequila shots will make all this kind of blurry."

"What about you?"

"I'll go back to haunting you. I promise I'll try to do a better job next time."

Before I could answer, he was gone. Dazed, I didn't move until I heard the door to my apartment opened. I stepped inside, where he was waiting, smiling at me as he leaned against the wall.

"Are you sure you need to haunt me?" I begged. "You don't sound too excited about it."

"Sorry," he shrugged. I could see he really did feel bad about it. "It has to be done."

I had a billion questions in mind, but there was a more urgent matter to attend.

"I realize I never apologized." My gaze traveled to his bloody shirt. "It was never my intention. I didn't want to. I wasn't looking and I..."

I didn't know what to say to make it better. There was no excuse. He nodded but didn't answer. I don't know what I was expecting.

"Go to sleep, Maddie," he whispered.

Without another word, he was gone, disappeared into thin air just like he had before. I didn't even want to think about how was that possible. With a sigh, I crouched and retrieved my high heels that had been forgotten on the floor. With a swift kick, I closed the front door and walked to my bedroom. My eyes were heavy and my head hurt. Between the alcohol and the paranormal activity, my body definitely needed a rest. I stripped, leaving my shoes, dress, and purse laying on the floor, and changed into my pajama. Barely conscious, I threw myself in the bed and closed my eyes.

I was drained; I didn't even stir until ten hours later. I rubbed my eyes and moaned. Apparently, my feet and my head were having a competition to see who could hurt me the most. I'm not sure who was winning.

Groaning, I got out of bed and walk straight to the kitchen. After chugging a glass of water and starting the coffee machine, I felt a bit more alive. I was about to grab the cereal box from the counter when a spoon fell to the floor. It must have been sitting to close to the edge, I told myself before going to retrieve the milk. Except, a second later, a fork followed it. I looked around, confused but didn't stop to think much of it. Breakfast always came first.

With my coffee sitting in the table in front of me and a spoonful of cereal and milk in my mouth, my body felt warm and fuzzy. Food always made everything better. But then my cup went crashing down, breaking into a dozen pieces and leaving coffee stains everywhere. Out of a sudden, the cereal didn't seem as important. I stared at the mess before me, the conversation that had taken place last night replaying in my head.

"Please tell me your idea of haunting isn't destroying my kitchen."

I had just kneeled to pick up the broken pieces when an answer came from behind me. "Do you have a better idea?"

I turned around to find the same blonde hair. The blood from his clothes was gone, making him look way friendlier than before. It gave me confidence, lessened the shock factor.

"I don't know. I do recommend not haunting me. You suck at it anyway." He laughed and, at that moment, we could have been friends chatting over breakfast.

"I already told you. I can't do that."

"Why? Who's forcing you to?"

He hesitated. "It's not... I'm not being forced." I gave him a look that showed exactly how confused I was feeling. He furthered his explanation. "After, you know, dying, I woke up with a note next to me. It had your name on it. And I just knew, you were the cause of my death. My instincts kicked in, they were telling me to go to you, to follow you. I've been pretty much your shadow ever since. I couldn't figure out how to approach you, though."

Well, that wasn't creepy at all. "I suppose I deserve it."

Suddenly, I didn't feel like joking around anymore. I closed my eyes, remembering the accident. The crash taking the air out of my lungs; the shattered glass, all that blood. I felt his hand on my shoulder and I looked up, surprised to find him staring at me with soft eyes.

"I blamed you for a long while, you know. I was so angry, and I didn't know how to handle my emotions. But the time here passes differently. And, after some thinking, I decided I don't want to be mad for eternity. It sucks and I miss my family so much, but it's done. I can't change what happened."

"So you don't want to make my life miserable?" I was surprised at how much my voice trembled as I spoke. I hadn't thought about the accident in so long, instead choosing to block it out of my mind as best I could. The guilt had come crashing down way to fast. It had taken me by surprise.

"Of course I don't, I'm not some kind of sadist. I don't enjoy violence in the slightest." He laughed and I managed a tiny smile. "But I talked to some other spirits—I don't really know what else to call them—and they said I needed revenge. They told me these urges I was feeling meant I needed to torture you so I could get some kind of closure. And so I tried to scare you. But you said it yourself, I suck at it."

I took my time before answering, all because I didn't know what to say. He admitted me didn't want to do any of the creepy things normal ghosts did; that was a good start, wasn't it? But that didn't solve the problem at hand.

"So, what should we do? There must be another option."

He looked at me and shrug. "I guess... I'm going to haunt you until I can figure out something better."

An idea came to me. A better option, for me at least. "Could you haunt me without being scary?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just, follow me around everywhere without any ulterior motive. It still counts as haunting, doesn't it?"

It wasn't an ideal solution, that much I knew. I wasn't looking forward to having a shadow following me around everywhere, but it beat the alternative. He bit his lip as he thought about my proposal, before nodding.

"That could work."

"So it's settled. Maybe we can even try to be friends." I hesitated, afraid he was going to be offended but kept going when he didn't answer. "I know it may sound crazy, but it will be more fun, especially if we will be spending all our time together. We can watch movies, play some board games?"

He didn't answer; instead, he extended his hand and smiled. "Okay, I'm sold. Hi, I'm Rob, your new ghost best friend."