Okay, this is a revamped/rewritten version of Suicidal Apparition. It has the same plot line, but it has been written slightly differently, and hopefully improved. I'm leaving the first version up so you can still compare the two if you really wish. ; Although I sincerely doubt it. If you're new to the story, enjoy!

Prologue: Meeting The Ghost

My name is Adrian Colet. I'm a sixteen-year-old teenager, with messy 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. They're like this, because I committed 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 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 making the same mistake I made.

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

Currently, the room I float along in is dark. As the moonlight weasels its way into the room through the slits in the blinds, it casts a navy blue glow across the room. I float over the floor aimlessly, which is covered in various articles of clothing and a few bits of crumpled up paper. Curled up in her bed, snuggling close to a comforter for warmth, is the girl I was supposed to help. Her name is Drew Salience. She is fifteen, and I have little less than a year to cheer her up. Oh joy.

Sometimes, I wonder how the man upstairs - God, or whoever he actually is - thinks I can help her. I mean, I committed suicide myself. I'm not that much of a happy camper, now am I? How can I help someone else be happy if I couldn't even help myself? But if I can't help this girl, then I'm sent down below, to an eternity of torture, blood-curdling screams, and brimstone. At least, that's what I've been told. Great options I have, huh? Either help a girl enough to beckon her away from the embrace of suicide or go down below and meet the 'Prince of Darkness' in the flesh.

Sighing slightly, I just lazily glide over the girl. She's been having some sort of nightmare for the past few seconds and her pale features have been contorted into a vision of pain. I can't do anything. If I touch her, my hand harmlessly glides through her. If I say something, she can't hear me. How is a ghost supposed to help someone living?!

Don't get me wrong. I probably sound like I don't want to help Drew. I do. Her life has been dreary for long time, 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'm still a teenager and I'm certainly still depressed. From what I've 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 mentally abused. Her parents had left Drew in her aunt and uncle's care for awhile, since they were young. They wanted time to get their lives together before raising a child.

How were Auntie Dolores and Uncle George supposed to know Drew's parents weren't planning on coming back for their darling baby? Once Drew got to age twelve, she was an ornery child. So, just to get the kid out of their hair, Dolores and George dumped her in a run-down apartment, already supplied with furniture and a suspicious rat that I swear has three eyes and an extra set of teeth.

Once a week, the two send Drew a support check. Too bad the girl doesn't realize she's supposed to be getting more than what those two cheapskates are sending her. Sometimes, I have half a mind to go over to her aunt and uncle's and spooking them into guilt. But, I can't leave Drew's side. I'm not sure what she'd do in my absence, not that she'd realize I was gone. But still, I have to protect her from her depression, in a way. Also, I physically can't leave Drew. There's some sort of invisible tug that makes me follow the girl wherever she goes.

Anyway, Drew was eventually forced into a job once she turned fifteen. Her rent, and bills were too much for her measly support checks to pay for on their own, so a job was essential. Her first job was working at McDonalds, but she quit after witnessing the many grotesque operations performed there. She took many various odd jobs after that, until one finally stuck.

She now works in a bookstore that resides in a nearby mall, and the wages are pretty sweet. Not to mention, I think the manager of the store, and elderly woman by the name of Clairese, has a soft spot for the girl. In my opinion, I think the old woman senses that Drew has had a hard life, and could use a break.

Tossing and turning in her bed, Drew is still wandering through the nightmare. Her shoulder-length black hair flips around the more she moves, becoming a raggedy mess of bed head. She'll be up soon. I've seen her pass through nightmares before, and this one was going to end in a second or so.

Her eyes snap open, and she bolts up in her bed, clutching a pillow to her chest. A few droplets of cold sweat are making their way down the sides of her face. There are a few things I admire about this girl; most of all it is her eyes. One blue eye, and one green eye adorns her pale, oval face. It was an odd combination, even for those with two different colored eyes, but it somehow fit Drew's personality.

Most of the time, the girl pulled across a look of utter calm, while underneath emotions would be roiling, like the blue sea. Then there were the times, if angered, Drew was as deadly as a poisonous green cobra.

Er...don't mind my occasional metaphors. I know I'm horrid at them, but I used to have a dream of writing books when I was still alive. That was one thing me and Drew had in common as well. We both have, or in my case had, a love to write stories.

The dark-haired girl looks around, probably feeling my presence like she usually does. Stumbling from the bed, Drew staggers over the junk on the floor of her room to the light switch. Flipping the lights witch up, thusly flooding the room with bright, yellow-tinged light. Drew squints at the room in general; her eyes weren't accustomed to sudden brightness at the moment.

I can tell she doesn't see me, and I watch her calmly. Drew purses her lips in irritation. She probably thinks she's paranoid. But, the girl shrugs her shoulders, flips off the light, and slowly makes her way back to bed.

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