A gunshot, that of a pistol, Beetlejuice was sure when he heard the sound echo down the hallways and into the bathroom through the crack under the door. He had been watching Lydia run in and eat her lunch in a stall with mild amusement, but then became slightly concerned when Claire had entered too, knowing what she was there for. It made him almost cackle and blow his cover when Lydia crawled under stalls and appear in one Claire had already checked, but then found herself cornered. Served her right. Yet it killed him to see that Claire was, yet again, still a total air head to notice Lydia moving for her escape.
As appetizing the young blonde now looked, it absolutely floored him how uninterested he seemed in her. He tossed her aside like he would a married woman; most likely because he knew her more than his precious Lyds. You know what they say, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. Which is why he absolutely loved messing with the girl. But now Lydia was his enemy, and he had to spy on her as much as he could, or so he thought.
The boom of a gun caught up again, and then rapid fire took up. School shootings; always interesting to watch; which was why Beetlejuice had stared more intently on the mirror. A grin slopped on his face, excited to see what happened next, before realizing that his Lyds was in that shooting, and then his face suddenly fell.
Damn, he thought, and here things were starting to get good!
Lydia and Claire had froze in place, one crouched back with her arms covering her face, while the other was poised, right hand high in the air and ready to hit the one in defense. Both girls slid only slightly from their positions, staring at the door. Lydia knew they were in trouble, she just didn't know what kind. "What was that?"
"Fuck if I know," Lydia answered Claire quietly. The sound of something like rapid fire was slightly closer. "I think we need to hide, though," she murmured. "From what? What could that like, possibly be?"
The sound was closer now. Lydia opened her mouth to shout something at Claire for being so thick headed, when her mind started to ache. Like someone was entering her mind with razor sharp claws. She muffled her gasp in pain, and arched her back down, gripping her head as if that would protect her mind. Call me out, babes, you're in trouble.
"Bee-" Lydia stopped herself from saying his full name, and shot up in realization. "What are you doing?! Stop all of this right now!"
"What?" Claire turned to look at her, clearly confused.
Babes, it's not me. Call me out!
"NO!" Lydia protested, and as she did so, the door flung open. Ramón stood there, shaky handed and holding a large gun in his hands. Lydia, nor Beetlejuice for that matter, knew what kind it was, and Claire's thoughts were empty with fear to even notice the damage it could do. Both girls gasped in surprise, still only slightly in their stances to fight. "Please, don't…" Lydia murmured, throwing her hands in the air. Then again… wasn't this what she wanted in the first place? A chance to die? But… what would she be dying for? She has Adam and Barbara. Her parents… well… her dad mostly. And dieing would also just get her closer to him again.
"Ramón," Lydia said steadily, and holding out a hand slightly and easing down ward, signaling for him to lower the gun from it's threatening position. Hopefully she said his name right, saying as though she only knew him in some of her classes. "Please," she tried to speak again, but her voice was starting to break.
Charles sat in his office, chair leaned back and feet on his desk. He turned the page of his book. Picked up a pen, wrote something down on a sticky note to remind himself of anything that came to mind, and set the pen back down. Every second felt like a million years, and it only made it more irritating that every million years was being counted off with an annoying click every second.
Eventually he got bored of reading the pages of his bird watching book. And in doing so, Charles had grown into just staring down at the black lettered words, watching them mock him. Either he was relaxing too much, or Charles Deetz was actually fucking bored.
Eyes half closed and attention span shortened greatly, he skimmed over his stressful mind for something to do that's both relaxing, and entertaining. And as a result of years of trying to just relax and break away from all of the stress and tensions of losing his wife and fear of losing his sweet little Lydia, he failed miserably. And it was then when he had finally decided; being bored sucks.
When Lydia was thirteen he was never really bored, just felt a little left out. Delia was all sing-song then, and in her own little realm sculpting something. And his precious daughter was usually in her room, taking photos of bugs for either a project or some sort of convention. And when he was left alone, Charles was either left with watching a baseball game that had been rained out, so some gushy soap opera.
Creases in his forehead appeared as he frowned deeply, remembering the days. That's all he could do now, was remember. Delia, now old and grumpy because she couldn't change Lydia, use to be so everywhere and alive. And not a bitch. But he loved her anyway. Nothing would change that. And Percy…
Yeah, Percy was Lydia's cat, but he seemed to be a little more attached to Charles rather than his favorite little girl. Before bed the cat would always have to be brought into their room to sleep or he'd throw a fit in the middle of the night. And when Delia had her little doggie-woggie, he'd only hang around Charles then too. What killed him was that when they had to flea from Peaceful Pines, there were no apartments that allowed pets that they could afford in New York. And without Lydia seeing him barely ever, being too focused on trying to catch up with her own forgotten life, she never noticed when Percy had been adopted by another family. And now, if you went to the pet cemetery in some small town in New Jersey, you'd find his head stone. Rest In Peace, Percy Davis.
Poor Percy. Easily forgotten by his favorite little girl, and easily remembered by the man whom had gotten rid of him. Spite the fact that they had no other choice, the last look Charles had seen from the cat was a plead to call the deal off. Something told him the little fur ball didn't like the Davis's.
The phone on his desk rang and Charles jumped, startled. It was too quiet and relaxing the moment before, but that's what the countryside did to him. Relax him. Picking up his book and setting it on the desk, Charles looked at the phone with his lips pursed into a strait line. The only person he could think of calling him at the moment was Maxi Dean. And right now Maxi Dean wanted nothing to do of the man and his possessed house. He was tempted to just let it ring. But Charles knew better, that answering phone calls was always polite. With a grudge already forming against whoever was calling him, picked the phone off of the receiver and held it to his ear. The more he listened, the more uneven his heartbeats became. And after setting the phone back down he leaned back into his chair calmly and took in a deep breath.
Poor girl never really could keep herself out of trouble could she?
"DELIA!!!"
Ramón stood there in the doorway to the girl's bathroom. His plan was short, simple, and easy to remember. Find Claire Brewster. Kill anyone who interfered who helped with the rumors she started. He liked Claire. Became in love with her figure. Who she was, he apparently didn't know. There was only one person in the world, he figured, that could leave a little eleven-year-old boy with a messed up mind and a sudden psychopathic look on life.
Beetleman…
His upper lip twitched at the thought. He was so cool! He was Ramón's world! Beetleman, to him, was the best person on Earth. His role model in life. He wanted to be just like him. Though doing so only got him in trouble, and when he thought he could go back to the way he use to be-with few changes-before meeting the magician. Unfortunately some time after he couldn't hold himself anymore. He still wanted to be just like Beetleman. He wanted to be cool.
Supposedly, the Deetz family that he worked for moved away, and Beetleman was no longer seen hanging around. So it could get worse. Ramón had been through several therapists, taken medication, everything, but his parents couldn't calm the boy down. And then, almost as if he were only being possessed for a set amount of time, suddenly stopped all completely.
He was quiet. Very quiet. Too quiet, now. Never talked in class, never noticed by anyone now. Just a shadow walking along. Those who were aware of his being, were the only ones who seemed to have notice of him. Claire was a good example of one of those few. He asked her, she said no, and began to say shit. Lies, rumors, every teenager knows that drill. It's like the fucking telephone game; you hear it, you pass it on. And everyone knows that the more it gets passed on, the more it changes. He had somehow broken the record for the most kid in school to have rumors said about him. What a fucking honor.
The cool kids seemed to have enjoyed this more. They liked how everything they say spreads faster than STDs. But just like any other person who starts shit, they were the infections, and Ramón sought to it that they should be taken care of. Something in him snapped, and he just didn't feel like himself anymore. He felt like a maniac.
When he had kicked the door open to the girl's bathroom, he had a feeling she was in there. And that feeling was right. Two girls, one with black hair, and the other blonde, getting ready to fight. A crooked smile slightly shown on his features when he named the two girls. Lydia; Mr. Beetleman's companion. The one he first spotted him with. She was fun too, just not as much as his role model in life. The gun pointed in their general direction, he hadn't decided who to kill yet first.
"Ramón," a shaky inhale from Lydia had escaped her lungs, "Please," her hand stretched out and her voice broke as she bit back tears. She didn't wanna die. Not because of Claire, anyway. But the boy didn't speak. Instead, he pointed the gun more near her now.
Babes, his voice chimed impatiently, you wanna die now?
"No," she murmured, honest to god. Not now. She realized it. Yeah, she wanted it earlier, but actually going through with it was the scary part. And she wasn't up for it.
Then let me out.
"I'll pick you first," Ramón said silently, and Claire held back a gasp. She was going to watch someone die. She didn't mind waiting, hell, she'd wait forever for this! But watching people die, to her, was disgusting! She'd be scarred for life. Which is probably why he was doing it.
"Please, don't! Ramón, you have so much you can do with your life, don't spend it regretting all of this!"
"I already will," he grimaced, and Lydia had recalled that he's probably killed a few other people by this point.
"What will you get out of making it worse?" she asked, stalling as much as she can. He figured she'd do as much, and realized it sooner than he would have when the faint sound of police sirens had started to play. "I can kill you right now and get this over with," he avoided her question with a shaky one of his own. His hands gripped the gun tighter, and he was so tempted to cut her off. But Claire's voice was interesting enough at the moment for him to be generous, and at least let them finish. "Why are you doing this?!" A squeak; an annoying one. Claire's squeak. His heart skipped a beat at the sound, the feeling of both trickling pleasure and pain placed in his veins in the short moment it stopped, and then suddenly an uncomforting feeling followed. Along with the feeling of a gaping hole forming in his chest, like acid was ripping him up. The feeling of wanting to drop at your knees, or disappear, but then you want to stay at least and watch what happened next.
"You really think saying shit about people makes it feel better?" he asked. "You think that I'll go away or take back asking someone out if they go around and tell lies? Because that really doesn't fucking help. Instead, it feels like shit. And you don't care, because it fucking fuels you!" He snapped, and pulled the gun from Lydia and held it closer to her head. "I can show you what it feels like to be turned down by someone like that," the nose of the gun lowered toward her heart. "Because you never really know the feeling of pain until' you've had heartache."
"It's not the end of the world, though!" Lydia fought for his attention, trying to do something good, even for someone who treated her like shit. Hell, both girls should be begging him to kill the other and then jump for joy for killing whoever he picks. But neither have pointed a finger towards the other. Not yet, anyways.
Ramón kept the gun in place, keeping the threat at Claire's heart unmoving, but turned his head to look at the apparently braver of the two. Claire's back pressed against the wall, all she could do was gasp when he looked away briefly at the Goth girl. "You think so, huh?"
"I've had lots of heartaches, Ramón. You can't say that this is the punishment! I've been turned down plenty of times," from what she can remember, "and I didn't go around shooting people." She kept her voice calm, and low. Lydia had tried her best at this point to be soothing, but seeing his features harden, she knew that she had really pissed him off. "Don't you dare tell me different! This isn't about just being turned down! It's about something more than that!"
And somehow, both girl's got the message. Now the world knew, that Ramón really did love Claire Brewster. Lydia wanted to run into a stall for a brief second and puke all she had in her stomach. "I think I'm gonna be sick," she murmured, low enough for only her to hear.
I second that.
Okay, mostly only her. Claire stopped breathing, and she was sure for a second that she was dreaming. But, then again, the fear only made it much more realistic until' she was completely unsure of what's going on.
Lydia bent over again, this time her own nails digging into her head as she gripped it and tried to muffle the pain blossoming within the center of her brain. Let me out! You're going to die!
"No!" she refused.
Lydia Deetz, let me out this instant!
"You'll make things worse!"
Ramón and Claire both stared at her strangely. Had either of them addressed her with a question that matches the answer? Both were unsure, but yet, the tension of the room never disappeared. "Shut the hell up!" Ramón yelled, getting tired of her random screams of pain and insults.
Lydia slightly fell over, and caught herself against the sink while she gripped her head, breathing heavily. I won't make things worse! Trust me, Lyds, you're in deep shit!
"I know that, you fucking ass hole! Leave me the hell alone, you will too make it worse! What the hell do you want from me!?" this time it was a cry, and she couldn't stand it. Tears leaked from her eyes. Ramón was sick, of her screaming, and of her yelling. He immediately pulled the gun from Claire and pointed it at Lydia. "Shut up! Shut up right now, or I'll fucking kill you!"
Beetlejuice snarled. "Babes!" he yelled. She was so fucking stubborn! Why was she so? It pissed him off that she's about to get shot, and she won't even let him fucking help her! He should trust her with this at least! He wasn't going to let her die!
"There, that's better," Ramón said, pulling the gun from her. Damn. All he could do was watch from a fucking mirror. Fuck this shit! "Let me out!" he yelled again. Lydia just stood there dumbfounded. Had she not known that everyone around her could hear her screaming at him? If not, she had really lost it. Beetlejuice sneered at the glass before him, growling insults in his mind of what he'd do to Ramón once he finally shoots himself after finishing off Claire.
"You wouldn't," Lydia dared him, oh god she was so damn stupid. What was she thinking?! Beetlejuice, about ready to pound the glass, forced himself not to yell into the mirror again. "You don't think I will?" Ramón asked, and pulled the trigger, purposely just barely missing her and shooting the sink she was leaning on off the wall, and letting it shatter on the floor at her feet. Lydia gulped, and looked back up at him. He raised the gun back up to her, and felt that sudden surge of power rush through him. The want of taking her life and getting all of this over with flooded him and he pulled the trigger, this time not meaning to miss. Lydia gasped out loud and winced, only to watch nothing happen. Beetlejuice sighed with relief, and tons of it. He was out of ammo. "Oh thank god," he sighed.
Ramón cursed, that was his father's last pack. Throwing the two-handed gun to the ground, he pulled a pistol from his uniform pocket and pointed it to her again. Lydia whimpered. She was sure to be hit this time. Bracing herself, she had a feeling that if she did die, at least he'd be out until' someone put him back, and away from her. "Beetlejuice…" she murmured, and Ramón cocked the gun before pointing it back to her. "Beetlejuice…" and here, both hesitated in silence. "Any last words?" he asked, and Beetlejuice prayed she'd say it one more time. "Come on, babes…"
Lydia looked him in the eyes, took a deep breath, and parted her lips. "Beetlejuice." And as soon as she finished the second syllable, the gun was fired.
A/N: Bah! I feel so evil for the very last part! And for cutting off so early! But in all honesty, I figured this would be the best part for me to cut off, since it does so well on it's own in my opinion. ^-^ The new updates on the site actually gave me some confusion, and I kind of had a harder time updating, lol! And ever since like, last wednsday, life has been going downhill so I apologize for the late update!!! I hope you'll forgive me! ... again! ... Oh, and those of you who might not have seen the episode, Ramón is a character only seen in one of the episodes, where he decides he wants to be just like Beetleman. Kind of hard for me to explain at the moment, but I didn't know if I've been spelling it right. xD It's just the only way my computer would let me spell it. Kinda pronounced Ramoan but it always comes out as Ramón when I edited it for mistakes. Lol, oh well, hope you liked!
Review please!!! :D
