ahhh im about to kill this fucking computer...
I really thought Pete was going to cry. It was kind of funny, actually. He hung up and put his face in his hands. I was slightly offended, yet amused.
"Am I really that bad?" I asked.
He looked up. "What would you do if you woke up to a fan's ghost sitting in your hotel room?"
"Ok. Point taken. But jeez, you could be a little nicer. I have no idea when I get to leave, so we might be seeing a lot of each other." I said. Which actually wouldn't be a bad thing for me...
He shook his head and then returned his face to his hands.
Then he suddenly got up and walked to the door, opening it and going out. I followed him unwillingly.
He walked straight to Patrick's room and went in without knocking.
Patrick was sitting on his bed, and looked at Pete in surprise. "What is it this time?"
Pete gulped. "I think I need to go to the doctor."
"Why? Is it because of that ghost chick?" Patrick asked, smiling slightly.
Pete nodded. "She's standing right beside you."
Patrick looked to his left, then to his right at me. I was laughing at his puzzled expression.
"She's laughing at you." Pete said.
Patrick looked bewildered. "Maybe you do need to see a doctor, Pete." He said with a chuckle.
I decided to have a little fun. I sat down on Patrick's lap and looked at him straight in the eye.
"Dude, can you seriously not see that? She's sitting right on your lap!" Pete yelped.
Patrick stood up suddenly, knocking me to the floor. Bastard. hehe.
"Very funny Pete." Patrick said, apparently not very amused.
"I'm not joking Patrick. She really is there." Pete said desperately.
"And how I am supposed to believe that?" Patrick asked.
Pete looked at me. "Can't you do something that'll make him see you?" He asked.
I considered it. "Well, last night I touched you, didn't I?"
He nodded his head. "Damn right you did. Scared the shit out of me too."
I laughed. Patrick, however, looked lost.
"Maybe I can touch him. Or just lift something?" I offered.
Pete nodded. "Do it."
I walked over and stood directly in front of Patrick, focusing on his hat. If this worked, it would probably scare the shit out of him.
I reached up and put my hand on the hat, and just concentrated. Hard. The only thing that mattered at the moment was the hat, and my hand was...
Griping the hat!
I squealed excitedly and pulled the hat off, putting it on my own head.
Patrick was looked at it in horror, with all color gone from his face.
"See! I told you!" Pete said.
I started dancing around, happy that I could touch something. Then of course I lost my concentration, and the hat fell through my body, giving me the chills.
"Damn." I muttered. I went to pick up the hat, but I fell over. Weird. I was suddenly really weak.
"You ok?" Pete asked, rushing over to help, but then realizing he couldn't touch me.
"Yeah... Just got a bit dizzy." I said, breathing hard. Ok, no more touching things for me. I felt like I was going to throw up only... well, what would I throw up?
I got up and said to Pete "You'll have to get the hat."
He nodded and picked it up, placing it on its proper place on Patrick's head.
"Do you believe me now?" Pete asked.
Patrick looked at him. "I think I pissed myself."
I burst out laughing, but Pete didn't even crack a smile. "See? It's fucking scary. And real." Pete said.
Patrick sighed. "Well, what are you going to do?"
"No fucking idea." Pete replied.
"Call ghostbusters?" I suggested, cracking up at my own joke.
Pete just glared. "No you... Actually, there are ghost hunters aren't there?"
"What?" Patrick mumbled, confused.
"Oh, she suggested we call ghostbusters." Pete explained.
Patrick smiled. I think he would have laughed had the situation not been what it was.
"Yeah, we could call some spiritual person and they could get rid of her." Pete muttered to himself.
"Hey. I'm still here you know?" I said, getting slightly annoyed. I mean honestly, how rude!
Pete looked at me and rolled his eyes. I flipped him off.
He grinned. His perverted self couldn't handle not cracking a joke.
"I would, honey, if you were a little more solid." He said.
Patrick laughed. "She flipped you off, didn't she?"
Pete nodded. I went over and tried to hit him in the head, but I went straight through. It gave both of us the chills.
"Don't do that!" Pete exclaimed, clearly a little creeped out.
"Well, don't be an ass." I said.
"I wouldn't have to be if you weren't here." Pete said.
I rolled my eyes. "Whatever."
Patrick again had a confused look to him. He sighed. "I wish I could hear her and see her."
Pete shook his head. "No you don't."
I glared at him, and got a sudden idea, along with an evil grin.
I made to punch him in the balls, of course going right through. This sent chills in his um, private area and he almost fell over on himself.
I laughed so hard, falling over on the floor.
Patrick smiled. "She just tried to hit you in the balls, didn't she?" Wow, he was a good guesser.
Pete nodded. "That was sooo not cool."
"You deserved it." I said happily. This was fun. I'd never had any friends before, and it was almost like we were hanging out. Except under way weird circumstances.
"So what's her name?" Patrick asked, looking around the room, as if looking for me.
"Braily." Pete said.
I was still smiling, but then Patrick of course ruined the mood.
"How'd she die?" He asked.
My smile dropped as quickly as my life ended.
Pete looked at me. "How did you die?"
I hesitated. What would they think of me?
"Well?" Pete asked impatiently.
"I um... committed suicide" I said quietly.
Pete stared, then his eyes softened and I knew.
He knew what it was like to be there. To be so far down you've lost yourself.
I suddenly remembered his suicide attempt, and finally felt understood.
"Has she told you yet?" Patrick asked.
Pete looked at him, then back at me. "You want me to tell him?" He asked.
I was surprised. "What do you care?"
Pete shrugged. "Just thought maybe you wanted it kept between us."
I sighed. "I don't care if he knows or not."
"Mmk." Pete mumbled. "She killed herself."
Patrick looked surprised. "Did she overdose, like you?"
Pete again looked at me curiously, and I shook my head. "Slit my wrist." I said, and with that I showed him my wrist, which had nasty cuts still on them. For some reason I didn't think they would ever heal.
"She slit her wrist." Pete said quietly.
Patrick muttered a "Oh." and looked at the floor.
So, my first conversation with real rock stars. And we talked about my death.
I guess it's a start.