Coma (Paranormal Romance)

by Lilly Mance

  “I am trying to find some information, and I need to spread my search area, but I can’t. Like I said—you’re a magnet to me.” I would have laughed at that lame pickup line—if ghosts could pick up anyone—but his expression was so I-mean-business serious, so I cleared my throat to hide a grin as he continued, “As soon as I get to a certain distance, I get snapped back to you against my will.”

  “Why do you think it has anything to do with me?” I crossed my arms, and smirked. “We’ve never met, you have no reason to be...drawn to me,” a thought of this guy, an embodiment of self-control and male beauty, could be drawn to me against his will caused an internal giggle. He must have been a heartthrob when he was alive. That would explain his egocentric attitude.

  “Each time I was snapped back, I found myself in your proximity,” he motioned my way with his hand, sending a wave of a pleasant smell—vanilla-like. Note to self: Do all ghosts smell like vanilla?

  “It’s not that big of a town. It could be something else—” I protested, but he interjected.

  “No. It’s you!” He said it so as-a-matter-of-factly, narrowing his eyes on me.

  “You can’t say that based on just a few encounters!” I counted three in my head.

  “Try hundreds,” he sighed, and flapped his arms.

  “What?!” He must be joking. “How long...When...You mean—”

  “Every day, and in the beginning, several times a day.”

  Shocked, I couldn’t utter a word. That was way out of my league. This guy was practically stalking me 24/7, and I didn’t notice him but a few times. What was I still doing there? I should have ran like ten minutes ago.

  “Are you okay?” He asked me, slightly bowing his head to get a better look at my petrified face.

  “No!” I hissed. “This is wrong on so many levels. Please, let me go—” my voice got lost at the end.

  “I thought I made it clear—I can’t! Believe me, I’m just as annoyed,” he let out a long sigh, and turned around, facing a mirror. Watching his reflection in the mirror, all I could think was—annoyed? Here I was partly scared to death, partly fangirling over him, and he was annoyed?

  “Let me see if I got this right,” I said harshly, “I’m stuck with a dead guy on my back from now on?”

  “I’m not dead!” He twisted around as if I had offended him, and glared at me.

  “You're not exactly living, either,” I snorted. “What are you then?”

  “I don't know, but I'm not dead!”

  “Humor me for a minute...” I chuckled. “You are not alive, so what makes you think you're not dead? What else is there?”

  “One doesn’t automatically imply the other,” he sneered, those green eyes getting darker. “I've seen people die in a hospital, and they don't end up here. Wherever here is,” he clenched his teeth.

  “Not really 100% solid proof, but I'll buy it for now.”

  “There's nothing to buy! I spent days watching dying patients until they passed away. A whitish haze exits the body and flies away toward the sky,” his eyes darted toward the ceiling.

  “Pff, how cliché,” I said, receiving another glare from him. “Maybe you're one of those ghosts that have some unfinished business,” one cliché deserved another, I thought, and numerous ghost movies came to mind.

  “I'm not a ghost!” He snarled. I heard Helen and Maya's voices nearing, so my eyes bulged in fear, but he must have already picked up on that, because he said, “To be continued—” and vanished. I grabbed the clothes, closed the booth door, and then heard Helen say:

  “Everything okay in there?”

  “Sure. It's too tight, so I had trouble getting out of it,” I lied, and then exited my booth.

  “We thought you bailed on us,” Maya giggled, “Knowing how much you're enjoying this—” she winked.

  “I'd never,” I chuckled, and I meant it. Running away from problems wasn't my modus operandi.

  “Let's grab something to eat. I'm starving,” Helen rubbed her belly.

  “Mario’s?” I suggested. Looking over Helen's shoulder, I could see him watching us. Was it gonna be like that forever, I wondered. Is there any difference between me and schizophrenia patients? If it's real like this for them, then it must be hard to come to terms with it.

  ~*~

  Wherever we went the rest of that afternoon, he would soon after appear. Lurking from a safe distance until we moved elsewhere, always perfectly still, he reminded me of a cheetah watching its prey. Is that what I am to him? That thought froze the very essence of my being. Cold sweat broke through my skin. If he had a plan to harm me, I had no way of defending myself. I rubbed my clammy palms against each other. But if that was the case, why wait? He could have done it by now. It's not like a psycho would need my permission. I decided to keep an open mind, and see what would happen next. But with an elevated level of caution.

  As the day was coming to an end, I became more used to his presence. Not that his appearance was something a girl couldn't get used to. Quite the contrary. He was like one of those gorgeous poster guys you put on your bedroom wall, and shamelessly stare at him for hours, imagining him coming to life and...Well, except this one kind of did come off the wall, but wasn't playing by my rules.

  The fear of him didn’t subside, but my glances in his direction became less fearful and more self-indulging. Our last destination for the day was the beach. We found a perfect spot to watch the sunset. After fifteen minutes, sitting down on sand, propped up on elbows, and with my ankles crossed, I tried to look relaxed, but my eyes feverishly scanned the area for my stalker. He didn’t show up this time. Anxiety gripped my thoughts. I couldn’t stop thinking about what he might be up to. If I were true to myself, I would have admitted that I was kind of disappointed.

  Maya and Helen had dates later that evening, so they dropped me off in front of my house. Mom was still at work, but knowing her, she must have left me something to eat in a crock pot. My stomach churned in response to my thoughts. Several quick glances behind my back to make sure there were no paranormal stalkers around, and I went in.

  A familiar scent of home-sweet-home filled my nostrils as I entered. Empty house never bothered me before, but after today, I really needed someone to be there. It was a false sense of security, I knew, but nevertheless, a soothing one. Mom's voice could have helped a little, so I dialed her work number.

  “Mom?”

  “Honey. Everything okay?” Mom's voice sounded worried; I never called her out of the bloom. Nurses were too busy as it was without needy daughters dragging them away from work.

  “Sure. I just wanted to see when you're coming home. We could watch a movie,” I said to ease her worry.

  “I'll be home soon. That sounds great! Maya and Helen are busy?” Insightful as ever, Mom was fishing for the real cause of my call.

  “Yeah. They have dates—”

  “I'll pick up some ice-cream on my way home,” that was Mom's way of saying she knew I needed some comforting. She made two kissing sounds, and hung up.

  Listening to silence on the other side of the line made me painfully aware of my surroundings and solitude all over again. Talking to Mom made me forget my situation for a moment. Now every sound seemed enhanced. Fridge humming, TV making some cracking noises here and there, a distant bird chirping, and a feeling I wasn't that alone as I previously thought. Suddenly, I felt queasy. I looked around the house, but nothing seemed to imply someone was indeed there. Lastly, checking out my bedroom, and seeing it was empty, I smiled at my own paranoia, and sighed out loud, saying: “When did I become so paranoid?” to a teddy bear on my bed. As expected, teddy had no comment.

  “Since I appeared,” a steady, deep male voice said behind my back.

  I jumped violently, screamed, and slammed my back against the wall. My heart fought to pop out through my mouth. As soon as my brain managed to decode what was in front of me, anger took over.

  “What's wrong with you?!” I yelled at my ghost stalker. “Do
you get a kick out of scaring the crap out of me?”

  “No,” he said calmly, and I examined his face for any trace of a sly grin. None was present.

  “Dead or not, I seriously doubt that you don't know what happens when you creep up on someone,” I wanted to smack him. Anger consumed me. “Couldn't you knock, or something?”

  “I would have, if I had planned this to happen,” just like before, his face revealed zero emotion. Was he human at all? Before he died, I mean. That self control was out-of-worldly.

  “Oh, please! Don't even try to sell me some crap about it being a matter of life or death, no-time-to-knock kind of emergency—”

  “—I'd never,” he cut me off, his eyes flaring, “And it's not like that. I was snapped back here,” he snapped his fingers, “That—I have no control over,” he turned his back on me, and hovered toward the window. “It's not all about you, you know...” His voice lowered.

  Oh, crap! His remark made me feel embarrassed for a moment, but then I thought about it, and said, “Sorry, but sudden popping ghost stalker in my room does make it all about me.”

  “You'll have to deal with it,” he turned back around, and fixed his gaze on me. “And make it quick, so we can start figuring this mess out. I waited long enough.”

  “What?! That's plain rude! What if I don't want to play your sick little game? I didn't ask for this, and I don't want you here,” I hissed, grinding my teeth.

  “You think I chose this?!” Finally, some emotion on that face. I hit a nerve! “I have a body to find. My body! Not play games with a brat!”

  Oh no, he didn't just call me a brat!? “You misjudged yourself there. I don't need you, I have a body, and I don't want you here. So get the hell out, the same way you came in!” Out of all paranormal stalkers, I got the arrogant one. Apparently, fate had given him Adonis looks, but a crappy ego to go along.

  “As you wish,” he bowed sarcastically with a smirk, and hovered out through my bedroom door.

  “That's not the way you came in!” I yelled, and slammed the door behind him.

  I was pissed beyond reason. That arrogant prick! Who does he think he is, calling me a brat? As if paranormal stalkers are girl’s everyday thing...nothing to be scared of. Oh, no, normal routine Lyra. How dare you question his motives?! Pfff... Haunt me forever; see if I care! I marched up and down my room fueled by anger. No-one ever called me a brat—that was Queen Bee’s description. He couldn’t have offended me more.

  Mom arrived a bit later than I expected. She got tied up at work; some accident—she explained. I needed time to cool off anyway. Mom and I talked about everything, and if I wanted to hide something from her, especially as big as this, I had to keep my emotions on a tight leash, or she’d read me like a magazine. We dug in an xxl sized ice-cream and talked a bit about what was bothering me, but I led her down a fake trail of teenage friends and dating issues, so after she was satisfied with comforting me, we enjoyed a movie. At least I think she had—my mind was boiling over paranormal offenses. How dare he call me a brat!

  ~*~

  Chapter #3

  For so long, I had kept my quirks to myself. Telling Mom and Dad wasn’t an option. Their concern over my well-being would have surely made them consider hiring a professional help. Both of them worked in a hospital, they would have pursued that path before believing my side of story. Who could blame them? If I had laid all the facts on the table, it would have resembled textbook schizophrenia. But I needed to tell someone, so I decided to unload my burden on Maya and Helen. We agreed to meet down by the beach.

  Bombastic intro over the phone, made Maya and Helen anxious, and they couldn't wait for me to sit and start talking.

  Squirming in her chair, Helen squealed, “Come on, spill it out already!”

  “Okay, but please, keep an open mind,” I looked at them seriously, already doubting my decision to tell. It was too late to change my mind, now. Both girls nodded, so I begun, “Ever since I was a child, I could see ghosts.”

  Maya’s jaw dropped, and Helen said, “Cool. Can you get my dead grandma? I need to ask her where she hid my remote.”

  I punched Helen in the shoulder, “You don’t even have a dead grandma!” Maya’s jaw was still down, so I gently pushed it up with a finger.

  “No, but I always wanted to say that,” a wide grin broke on Helen’s face.

  I dismissed her remark and continued, “Anyway, ghosts could never see me. We never interacted. They were just something I noticed from time to time.”

  “Is that why you get weird sometimes?” Maya hopped in her chair as if she had just had an epiphany.

  “Yeah. But,” I exhaled long, “something has changed lately.”

  “What?” Helen wasn’t hiding her impatience, tapping her foot under the table.

  “One can see me,” their cheerful mood suddenly changed, and both of them curled their lips downward. “And has been stalking me since post grad party,” their eyes rounded, and they exchanged looks.

  “Is it hostile?” Maya asked, and gulped.

  “It’s a he. I don’t know. Not sure what he—” I didn’t finish my sentence, because Helen jumped in with:

  “Oh my god, is he here now?” Hearing Helen ask that, Maya turned pale white, and started glancing around.

  “No,” their faces relaxed, “But he might be soon,” I added, and they stiffened up again, so I decided to tell them every bit of info I knew. Knowledge brings understanding and peace to situations like that. After step-by-step walkthrough since I first saw him up until our last encounter, they listened without comment, occasionally nodding. As I finished my story, a couple of minutes passed in silence, and then Helen pushed her glass of water toward me with her index finger, staring above me, somewhere in the distance. I took a sip.

  “But he is cute?” Maya spouted, twirling a strand of hair around a finger.

  “Incredibly! But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s obnoxious and rude. Possibly a psycho!” I wondered, were they missing the point? Danger, help?

  “What are you gonna do now?” Helen took the matter more seriously.

  “Don’t know. Educate his ass about manners?” We chuckled, but the truth was, I was a lot less in control than I led them to believe. And a lot more scared. Even though it wouldn’t help the overall situation, sharing my secret made me feel less alone. “If things get weird—”

  “—and they’re not already?” Helen interjected, and we burst out laughing. Yeah, I was a whack job, and they knew that.

  “Well, weirder than before! Will you’ll cover for me?” I glanced at both of them, expectantly.

  “Of course we will,” Maya assured me, and then put an arm around my neck. “You should have told us years ago!”

  “There was nothing to tell till now,” I chuckled. “That brings me to the next thing...”

  Maya and Helen's eyes widened, then Helen said, “There's more?”

  I chuckled, “No, not more. About Brad's party.”

  “Shit,” Maya grimaced.

  “Yeah, a big pile,” I added. “If he stalks me there, and keeps to himself, no worries. But if he decides to talk to me again, I might need assistance.”

  “Damn, girl,” Maya pulled her fingers through her hair. “You know how important that is to us.”

  “I do, and I'll understand if you don't want me to go,” I lowered my gaze, “Actually, that's the reason why I'm telling you all of this.”

  “Not an option,” Helen spat out, “You're not getting out that easily,” she snickered. “If I didn't know you better, I'd think you made this all up just to get out,” she narrowed her eyes on me.

  “Unfortunately, it's all true,” I snorted. “Then we have a deal?”

  “You didn't say what you want us to do,” Maya said.

  “Oh,” I chuckled, “Crap! If you see me talking to a tree or an empty chair, come to the rescue.”

  “That's freaking me out, Lyra,” Maya's forehead creased.

  “You and me
both,” I chuckled.

  “We'll let miss scaredy pants out of this one,” Helen glared at Maya. “I'll keep an eye on you, and come if you need me.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Let's hope it doesn't come to that.”

  ~*~

  Party was only half an hour away, and I still hadn’t decided on what to wear. My wardrobe was pathetic. Jeans and tops in multiple versions. I wondered why was I even thinking about it. No matter which combination I chose, it would still be jeans and something. Maya and Helen will kill me—I thought. Well, what the hell, I’ll go with this one—I pulled out the tightest skinny jeans I had, and a black top that was tight around the hips, baggy on top, and open-shouldered on one side. I borrowed Mom’s strappy stilettos, did my nails and makeup, and the only thing left to do was my hair. I went with a French braid hanging down my left shoulder.

  Maya honked in my driveway, prompting me to go downstairs. As soon as Helen saw me walking out of my house, she burst out laughing. Maya leaned over Helen from her seat to see why, then burst out, too. I frowned, and entered the car.

  “What? I did my best,” I said, grinning. “This is the tightest pair of jeans I own.”

  “Yeah, you did your best,” Helen turned toward me, chuckling, “Hand it over,” she said, holding her hand palm-up toward Maya who rolled her eyes, and then put a five dollar bill in Helen’s hand.

  “You bet on me?” I asked, open mouthed.

  “Yap, and I won,” Helen smirked. “Maya was fool enough to think you’d buy something new to wear,” she giggled.

  “Not fair!” I pouted.

  “I’ll never give up hoping, though,” Maya snickered, and hit the gas.

  ~*~

  Brad’s place was just outside the town on a lonesome estate, hidden away in the woods. When we arrived, the place was already packed with people. Maya nagged about finding a parking spot, and being late. I, on the other hand, was mesmerized by the size of his house. It didn’t look that grand from the access road. I wondered why his parents allowed him to have parties at a place like that. The damage a bunch of high school and college kids could do to this type of villa would be way too high of a price to pay.