I Had A Part To Play Too

I've been called a lot of things before. Such as Girlfriend, Baby, Girl. Especially since I became an inspiration for a song. It's like, nearly 35 years old now, but I remember it clear as day. The nicknames are so well-used, that I don't even know my real name anymore. I know what you're thinking. "How can someone forget their own name?" Well...put it this way. I never did see that car coming.
Being a ghost and all is ok-ish, until recently this year. Some little punk thinks he can just write a retaliation, just like that. Well, I got news for him. Both the guys had their points of views heard, but what about mine? After all, I was there, and that little prick wasn't. I'll get my point of view heard, and hit back.

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2. Knowing What Happened To Me

I sat up some time later, dazed out of my mind, illuminated in the light of the car headlights. Everything felt normal, until the driver didn't start yelling abuse at me, and my father didn't drag me back inside for the lecture of a lifetime. That was when I got to my feet, and took a look around.

I was in the middle of the road, in front of a car with the engine still going. I wasn't entirely sure how I'd got there, but I had. Looking down at myself, I saw no difference. No injuries, or anything, except a ladder running all the way down my tights.

Wanna know what my first after-death, clear as crystal thought was?

"Aw, shit! That was my last pair."

Yeah, not exactly poetic. I've just died, though I don't know it yet, and I'm worrying about a ladder in my tights. That's just the kind of person I was though.

I turn to my house, ready to get an extreme lecture off my parents, when I notice they're not there.

"Weird. They should have dragged me off by now." I think. This is a little strange. I go to go back indoors, wondering if they've done just that, when I hear the sobbing.

It's quiet, but there, and it's coming from right at my feet. I turn slowly, and look down, before seeing who's crying. It's my mother, kneeling at my feet, shaking uncontrollably and crying loudly. She's turned away from me, facing something on the floor. I take a half-step closer, then look over her shoulder at whatever she's facing, and get the shock of my not-anymore life.

I'm lying there, star shaped on the road, but with my left arm and leg bent at unnatural angles. There were no scratches or anything on me, but a large puddle of blood seeped slowly and creepily out from under my head, which was turned to the side and twisted awkwardly on my neck. That wasn't the creepiest thing though. The creepiest thing had to be my eyes.

I've always had the brightest of blue eyes, far brighter than normal. It's a strange combination, blue eyes and dark-brown hair, but I've got it. My eyes aren't right though. They're open, and reflecting the bright light of the headlights, but something's missing. If you look at a normal person's eyes, there's some sort of spark behind them, like there's a star trapped behind the colour. In mine however, there's no spark there. They're empty, and bland, like the eyes on those old Victorian china dolls that give me the creeps.

Slowly, unwillingly, my mother reaches out a shaking hand, so much so that her engagement and wedding rings are knocking together and making a little pinging noise, and places it gently on the side of my face, right where I applied my blusher for the night. Her hand moves upwards, and gently tugs on my pink eyeshadow-coated eyelid, shutting my eyes for me.

It's then that I know what's happened to me. I didn't see the car coming and it hit me, breaking the bones on my left side. I must have hit the ground hard, breaking my neck and some of the bones in the back of my skull. Whatever it was that killed me, I don't really wanna know, but it did.

It was then that I ran. I ran far from my own body. Where I was running to, I didn't care. Why I was running, well, wouldn't you run from your own dead body. I just wanted to get far away from there, until I could sort myself out.

Talking about sorting myself out, how was I gonna do that? I mean, I'm dead now. I'm a fricking ghost. How does a ghost sort herself out? It's only gonna get worse though. I bet they're gonna feature my death on the news, and personally, I don't wanna see that. How will I get away from this mess I'm in?

Maybe I could...well, the dead don't need to worry about laws anymore, so I could...skip the country for a few months. Give myself time to straighten everything out. Yeah, it won't be permanent though. Just for a maximum of 2 months though, and no more.

So that's what I did.

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