Kyle was dead.
This was still something he was trying to come to terms with. It had only been a couple of weeks, but he was still struggling to come to terms with what had happened to him. He didn’t regret what he had done – he had wanted to protect the others. He’;d hoped that, with his sacrifice, he’d find a kind of peace he didn’t have in life. Unfortunately, things didn’t quite work out the way he had imagined they might.
He was here, and he wasn’t quite sure where here was. It certainly wasn’t heaven, and he didn’t think it was hell – the only explanation he could come up with was some kind of purgatory. Everything looked like his hometown, but more run down; decayed. Still, it was weird – things from the past still existed here as some kind of echo memory deal, and he avoided them. He’d managed to figure out that they had to do with the town’s history after he found the gallows, and tried to stick to safer, more familiar places ever since.
He’d observed some general nastiness, and the things he didn’t want to tangle with. He’d been quick to spot trouble in life in order to avoid it if he chose. Typically, anyway. It was a skill he’d developed to avoid the drunkenness at home. For that first week he’d wandered, trying to learn the safe places in this purgatory, but also to see how the people he had left behind were doing. He’d checked in on his dad and some of his friends, even on an ex-girlfriend or two. Watching the living was interesting. It was like he could tell how healthy people were or something. He couldn’t explain it – just saw that some were more vibrant than others. With a little practice, he could pick up on when people were lying.
Mostly, he hung about in the safe places, until his wake was supposed to happen. He made it a point to go to that – he wanted to see what people said about him. Based on what he heard, it was all lip service, with few exceptions. He was beginning to feel like people had only liked him because he could play ball, when a group of people he least expected walked in. They weren’t hard to spot – a group of five asian teenagers, in a room full of mostly caucasian people. He knew that recently they had apologized to him and had a truce, but he never would have expected them to show up.
He watched as they mingled a little, then watched as one of them moved away from the group and approached his Dad. He headed over that way, curious to hear what she had to say. It bothered him a little though, that he didn’t know her name. He could see that look in his Dad’s eye when she approached. She was pretty, and he was taking note of it. She spoke, offering the sincerest of apologies to a man she didn’t know, for the loss of someone she barely knew, and had only known in a negative light. She was very polite, even in the face of his father’s…inappropriateness, he supposed would be the best word.
He was just…stunned. Not only was she polite when he insulted her or was an outright skeeze, but she had meant what she said when she was sorry he was gone, and sorry that she hadn’t gotten to know him very well. He was still lingering near his father when she walked away, heading back to her friends. He overheard his father making some crude comments about her, and rather than hear any more, he followed as they left. He wanted to know where they were going, and try to say thank you. Somehow. They headed back to a large house that didn’t seem as decayed as everything else, and he followed them in. There was something about this place though…something that felt safer than any of the other safe places he’d been to – a place that gave him a sense of peace and serenity, despite the pain and anguish he tended to feel.
The girl that had spoken to his father headed upstairs, and he followed, moving past her into the room she was headed for. As she looked through things there, he decided now was a good time. He focused hard, and believed hard, trying to will her to see him. When he felt like he might have it, he spoke. He’d succeeded somehow, he knew, but it was difficult, and he wasn’t sure how long he could do this for.
He thanked her.
She jumped, but looked right at him. Startled, but still genuinely kind. She had told him he was welcome, and offered to try and help him however she could, apologizing again for having hurt and been rude to him in life. He couldn’t help but smile. He felt that she were beautiful, inside and out, and tried to cherish that feeling he had from talking with her as he faded from the living world and folded back into purgatory.
He lingered a little, wanting to retain that sense of peace, though he felt it was wise not to stay long. It was a safe haven, sure. But if it was so safe, why weren’t there more spirits here? He could only assume that the reason others stayed away is because this was someone else’s territory, and he sure as hell didn’t want to be on the wrong side of a territory dispute. He was some way away when he was approached by some of them, and he got to speak – first to them, and then to her again.
He’d panicked at first, thinking they were dead too. The busty one, the one he’d picked on a couple of times, assured him they weren’t. They had wanted to help him somehow if at all possible. He decided to trust them, and told them about his trophy, asking if they could retrieve it. They promised to do what they could before they went back to the land of the living, and giving him permission to stay in their home. He was hesitant at first, but reasoned he could always leave again if problems arose. Besides, he really wanted to stay in that place.
They were gone for a few days, with only some renovators coming in and out, so he took time to go visit people again. It was interesting what you could learn when you were dead. For instance, there was his best buddy Scott. They’d been friends for years, but through observation after he died, he learned Scott had a habit of stealing other people’s girls – especially Kyle’s. He’d learned this by observing a conversation between Scott and Jenny, the girl that had broken up with him back in August. They were fighting over the fact that Scott had passed an STD on to her.
When he went back to see his Dad, it wasn’t much better. The house he’d been raised in looked absolutely ramshackle from this side, and unpleasant echoes flickered within. Here was a memory of running from his Dad coming after him with a belt, over there a memory of finding his mom having aspirated while she were passed out. He wanted to run from this place and it’s haunting memories, but he made himself go check his Dad.
Still awake, the man was counting the donations that had been left at the wake, muttering to himself about his great loss. The loss that his dad spoke of, however, was less about that of a son, and more about that of a meal ticket. As he watched, the voice spoke. The voice was something that usually sat at the back of his mind, whispering dark things. Usually, he could avoid it. But not now – it was so strong…pushing him, urging him …tempting him. Telling him to get back at his father for the years of abuse.
Not wanting to stay any longer, he quickly fled back to the safety of his new safe place. They weren’t back yet, but he hoped they would be soon – he wanted to see her again. They returned a few days later, and he observed. Somehow, them being home made that peaceful feeling a little bit better. He learned their names, and watched their comings and goings. Her name was Asami. He liked that, latched on to it.
Initially, he observed everyone. They seemed like a group he might have liked to be friends with, people he might have been able to be himself with, had he lived. People seemed to look up to Asami, and it seemed like she didn’t always know how to handle that. Observation told him she had a lot on her mind, and listening in gave him an inkling of them being in over their heads, though he didn’t fully understand all of it.
Had he still been alive, he knew, he’d have leered and made comments about how open they were with one another, how comfortable they seemed to be around one another in their various states of dress, and, of course, about the sex that seemed to happen with frequency.
He liked watching Asami’s morning routine. There was something serene about her martial arts maneuvers, her movements fluid and graceful; mesmerizing. He also liked to watch her sleep. He knew it was a very stalkery thing to do, but when she was sleeping, she was at peace. Generally, anyway. There were nights when she was restless, and during some of those times, he’d reach out and try to soothe her. Usually just a gentle touch or an attempt to brush hair from her face. He couldn’t do that, not really. But he felt like maybe the gestures still helped somehow.
There was one night in particular when he was sitting in her room, watching as she slept, her boyfriend holding her close. That was a night when he actively listened to the voice again. It was like a devil, tempting him. It knew that a part of him longed to get to know her better, to have the closeness and intimacy he was witnessing. So it whispered. It tempted. It offered him the power to manifest.Then it offered him the power to possess. He’d paused, his mind wandering and thinking of that. That’s when the whispers grew stronger; grew louder.
He entertained a host of thoughts about being himself in Dave’s body, and nearly gave in. Nearly..but he didn’t. Instead, he got up and left, making his way to the part of the house that was most peaceful. He liked to think of it as the heart of the place. So he went there, and he stayed until the voice died down. The temptation was strong. He had to be stronger. He didn’t want to do anything to hurt her, or make her hate him. What the voice was saying would probably do both.
Kyle was dead.
That didn’t mean the longing wasn’t there. That didn’t mean he didn’t love her.
Kyle was dead, but he could learn to protect. He could try to be her guardian. He could try to absolve his sins this way. Then maybe, he could find lasting peace.