Suicidal Apparition

A new story. Oh joy. I might change the title later I've had this idea for awhile and this is the first time I actually typed it out. Sorry it's short, I was running out of time. 2 free hours off in school in the morning. I can add more soon. ;; Yippe-dippity yay!

Prolouge

My name is Adrian Colet. I'm am sixteen-year-old teenager, with spikey black hair, and dark blue eyes. Well, my eyes used to be blue, now they're just white, every part of them: iris, pupil. Everything. The reason why is because I commited suicide more than five years ago. When I was sixteen, now I would have been twenty-one. Able to drive, and able to drink. Now, I can't do any of that. And thanks to my decision to kill myself, I can't even go to the afterlife. Well, not until I help someone else with their life, and keep them from commiting the same mistake I made.

Lucky me, I get assigned to one of the most stubborn cases of depression on this side of the Mississipi.

The room was dark, almost a navy color in the moonlight that weaseled it's way into the room through holes in the curtain. I floated aimlessly over the floor, which was covered in various articles of clothing. Curled up in her bed, snuggled into the comforter for warmth, was the girl I was supposed to help. Her name was Drew Salience. She was fifteen, and I had little less than a year to 'cheer' her up. Oh joy.

I wonder how the man upstairs, God, or whoever his name is, thinks I can help her. I mean, I commited suicide myself. I'm not that much of a happy camper. How can I help someone else be happy if I can't make myself that way? But if I can't help this girl, then I'm sent down below, to an enternity of torture, blood-curdling screams, and fire. Great options I have: Help a girl away from suicide, when I couldn't keep myself living, or go down below and meet the Prince of Darkness in the flesh.

Sighing slightly, I just boredly glide over to the girl. She's been having an nightmare for the past few seconds, and her pale face has been contorted into a vision of pain. I can't do anything. If I touch her, my hand just glides right through her, if I say something, she can't hear me. How's a ghost supposed to help someone living!

Don't get me wrong if I sound like I don't want to help this girl. I do. Her life has been dreary for awhile and I really wish I could help. Yet, it's hard for me to see how I can help, when I'm still a depressed teenager. Well...in a way I am still a teenager, and I'm certainly depressed. From what I read in the report that gay angel gave me, Drew was abused as a child, by her uncle and aunt. Not sexually or physically, but verbally and emotionally abused. Her parents had left her in her Aunt and Uncle's care because they were young at the time, and didn't want to deal with a child at the moment.

How was Auntie Dolores, and Uncle George supposed to know they weren't planning on coming back? Once Drew got to age twelve, she was ornery. So, to get her out of their hair, they dumped her into a run-down apartment building, and send her a support check every other week. Too bad the girl doesn't know she's supposed to be recieving more than what the two cheapskates are sending her.

Drew was eventually forced to get a job by fifteen, since she had to keep up with rent, and bills. Her first job was working at McDonalds, but she quit after witnessing all the grostesque things that happened there. She did many various odd jobs after that, until she finally got one to stick. Drew now works in a bookstore in a nearby Mall, and she gets paid fairly. Not to mention, I think the manager of the store, an elderly woman named Clairese, has a soft spot for the girl. Clairese must be ablet to tell Drew has had a hard life.

Drew is tossing and turning, her shoulder-length black hair flipping up and down every time she tosses. I realize that soon she must get up. The nightmare had to be drawing to a close. A few seconds later she bolted up, her eyes wide, and a cold sweat dripping down the sides of her face. There were a few things I admired about this girl, most of all it was her eyes though. She had one blue eye, and one green eye. An odd combination, but it suited her personality. Most of the time she was calm, like the dark blue sea, but if she got angered, she could be as deadly as a poisionous green snake.

Er...don't mind me. I usually make really bad metaphors like that. I used to have a dream of writing stories when I was still alive. That's one thing me and Drew have in common also. We both have, or in my cas had, a love to write stories.

The dark-haired girl looks around, probably feeling my prescence like usual. She stumbles out of her bed and staggers through the junk on her floor to the wall, where she flips on the light. Wincing, since her eyes need to get used to the brightness, she stares about her room. Not finding anything, Drew's lips slightly purse, and her eyes narrow. But, she shrugs her shoulders, and flips off the light, slowly making her way back to her bed.

See? Even in the light I can't be seen. And I thought I was invisible when I was alive. Heh.

End of Prolouge

Hope you liked it. It's not very good.>. ;; I'm still working on the idea and what not. OO; Review please. Thank you.