Chapter Seven: Newly Dead

When I opened my eyes, light flooded my vision. I groaned and shut my eyes tightly, rolling over into my pillow like I did every morning. The pillow I had shoved my face into was white, not black. Gasping, I sat up. Everything was white.

This wasn't my room.

"Where am I?" I nervously asked, my entire body shaking. It was really cold in there. On cue, a nurse entered. Smiling, she approached the bed I was in.

"Look who's up!" she exclaimed happily. Her skin was pasty blue, similar to Gretchen's skin. Her black hair stuck out from under her nurse cap in strings. Pieces of her were sewn together or sewn back on, so she carried the appearance of a rag doll. "You must have so many questions right now," she added as she poured water into a glass and handed it to me. I accepted the water and took a few sips before putting it on the white nightstand. "Well, Miss Lydia, you're in the Eternity Ward," she said energetically. I tilted my head to the side, her words failing to make sense in my mind. The nurse giggled. "It's the place where the newly dead are…well…born! Isn't that fascinating?" I rolled my eyes. She was chippier than a squirrel drunk on caffeine. "Once you're ready, you need to go across the street to Death's building, where you'll meet with your Neitherworld case worker," she explained. I tried standing, finding it a lot easier than I thought it would be. I jumped up, expecting to float like Beetlejuice, but gravity pulled me back faster than I hoped. I looked down at myself. I was wearing my Neitherworld costume. A smile passed across my lips. The hole I expected to find in my corset was patched. When I looked at my chest, I found a scar. It was not in the spot I was hoping, the dead center, but it showed that I at least managed to stab my heart.

"I think I'm okay," I told the nurse, who responded by jumping up and down and clapping spastically.

"Yaaaay! You're such a trooper!" If she gave me a sticker, I would have choked her, but she didn't, so I wasn't given the honor. Instead she handed me a thick hard cover book. Despite its 500 pages plus thickness, the book didn't feel so heavy in my hands. The cover itself was an ugly brown that sort of reminded me of the brown beetles my friend enjoyed snacking on. "Handbook for the Recently Deceased" was spelled out in sky blue letters with white hi-lights across the top. Below the title was a picture of a man and a woman looking up at a clear blue sky.

I quickly stomped out of the hospital and into the building across the street with the book in hand. When I reached Death's office, the receptionist told me to go to "Death Counseling" on the forty-fifth floor. When I entered the office, I was in a full waiting room. Ghosts of all sorts sat in the chairs. One was a woman who sat in pieces (a murder victim, the poor girl). Another was a man missing an arm. One was a woman who was actually a transgendered man. Hesitantly I stepped towards the receptionist's window and took a number, finding that it was at least five feet long. Eyes wide, I sat down on the magazine table.

The receptionist opened her window, her eyes falling on me.

"Miss Deetz," she called, "your case worker is ready to see you now." I looked down at my number, then at the one on the wall. I think mine was Pi, and the one on the wall was 525,600. When I didn't stand, she did the 'Come here' thing with her finger and I had no choice but to obey.

"Are you sure?" I questioned. She let out an exasperated sigh.

"Don't keep her waiting. She's not the most patient person." She slammed the door shut and I followed the signs in the surreal hallways that led me to my case worker's office.

An old woman sat at her desk. She wasn't nearly as old as Death's receptionist, but this woman was getting sort of close. Her skin sagged ever so slightly off her face, her dyed-blonde hair was falling out, and her hands boasted thick purple veins. Smoke floated out of the gaping hole in her neck. She wore a red business suit with huge shoulder pads. She shuffled through a few folders until she found a vanilla one with my name on it. It was slightly thicker than the other ones I saw sprawled out on her desk, which made me even more nervous.

"Lydia Deetz," the woman said in a raspy voice. She gestured for me to sit. "I'm Juno, your case worker."

"What 'case'?" I asked as I opened and closed the front cover of the handbook. "I thought the whole thing was a-okay." After taking another puff of her cigarette, she opened the folder and took out a couple of papers. The smoke she inhaled escaped through the hole in her neck and into my face, causing me to cough and wipe away the foul stuff.

"Just because you went through Death doesn't mean your case is cleared," she croaked back. "In fact, we have many things to discuss. The first is your job." I was about to ask, 'What job?' but I remembered that, because I took away my own life, I was going to have to spend eternity working. I look a long, hard look at Juno. Was this my fate? Would I have to sit there and look at papers and yell at people for living shit lives?

She took out a paper and read over it. I couldn't read through the other side when she held it up, but I got the eerie feeling that it was a message from Death.

"At Death's request, Miss Lydia Deetz will be working for him as his new receptionist until she meets the terms of the contract negotiated on the seventh of September, 1995," Juno read, peering at me from behind her glasses for a moment before continuing. "The terms of said contract are the soul of Miss Lydia Deetz in exchange for the dropping of the sentence of exorcism sentenced upon Beetlejuice on the sixth of September, 1995." She let out an annoyed sigh and looked up at me. Unsure of what to do, I just smiled innocently. "Are you sure you want to go through this?" she questioned. I simply nodded. "There's no turning back now," she mumbled as she leaned back in her chair and continued to read, holding the paper up. I squinted, trying to read the contract, but I just saw black blobs. I tapped my toes, which were quite comfortable in my boots, to pass the time away. After finishing the thing, Juno slammed the paper on her desk. "Let me see your hands," she demanded. I looked at my right hand for a moment. The ring was still there. I put them flat on the desk, palms down. She leaned forward to observe. First her eyes trailed to the left hand and then shot to the right. She let out a groan and sat back in her chair again. "You've got to be kidding me," she muttered as she rubbed her temples, "I'm getting too old for this shit!"

"What's wrong?" I had to ask. Again she sighed.

"You've come to believe that you and Beetlejuice were married on the day you met, correct?"

"Actually," I corrected her, "it was a commitment to friendship." I heard her mutter another swear under her breath.

"You see," she responded, "wearing the ring on the left hand means that you two are married, but as you can plainly see, the ring is on your right hand." Before I could ask what that meant, she just continued. "In the world of the living, this means engagement. But in the Neitherworld, the 'ring on the right hand' symbolizes a commitment deeper than marriage." I tilted my head to the side, pondering her last statement. A commitment deeper than marriage…was that even possible? My gaze turned to the ring. It just sat there, innocently hugging my finger. "Marriage can be broken through death, but this 'commitment' you got yourself into outlasts death, which means that you and Beetlejuice are stuck to each other for eternity." She sounded rather annoyed at this. Obviously this woman did not like Beetlejuice, but then again, who does?

Juno opened her mouth to say something else but she was interrupted by a ping on her computer. She turned to it and clicked a few things, then stared at the screen for a few moments.

"Death is requesting you in his office," she told me without turning to face me. Nodding, I stood.

"Thank you, Juno," I said politely.

"Good luck."

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I entered Death's waiting room and found that the receptionist was absent. When I entered the man's office, he was standing next to a wide window. The black blinds were pulled down, allowing minimal amounts of light into the red and black themed room. Upon my entrance, he turned to me.

"How do you like death so far?" he asked coolly. I shrugged.

"It could be worse," I responded. He let out a chuckle and had me sit down again. My poor butt had to suffer Juno's hard chairs, so it was quite thankful to sit in a comfortable padded seat. I spotted my fingernail markings in the leather. Had he noticed them too? I guess he didn't, or else they would be gone by now. He casually leaned against his desk.

"As you may have noticed, my secretary is gone," he said. "Because you committed suicide, you have to work, so you will be my new receptionist." He then proceeded to explain rules, regulations, and my work hours. Child labor laws were effective, even in the Neitherworld. Because I died when I was two months away from eighteen, Death couldn't push extra hours on me. I had to start the next day. "I kept my word," he added just as I was getting up to leave, "Beetlejuice is out of prison and is home safe and sound. Of course, Miss Deetz, you still have to uphold your end of the bargain." He tapped his fingers against the wooden desk. On his fingers he wore different gems, expressing his vast collection of luxuries. I stared at him for a moment before answering. The wheels in my head were turning confusedly. Hadn't I given him my soul already?

"I don't understand," I replied nervously, "after I stabbed myself, didn't my soul go straight to you?" A chuckle rose from the man's throat.

"Dearest Lydia, I guess you misunderstood the words in the contract. When I said your soul, I meant both parts." My expression was blank. What did "both parts" mean? Reading my puzzled expression, Death continued speaking. "A soul is divided into two parts, one mortal and the other immortal. When you died, you gave me control over your immortal soul, but the mortal part is missing…" His razor white teeth shimmered as he smiled. "If you don't give me that lost piece of your soul by the end of the week, your friend Beetlejuice will be exorcised." My hands tightly gripped the seat. My eyes widened with fear and confusion. My voice had stopped cooperating and let out little croaking noises.

"Where am I supposed to find it?" I managed to thrust out. Death escorted me to the door, his arm around my shoulders. As he pushed me out, he said one thing:

"Ask your friend."

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I helplessly wandered about the city for most of the remainder of the day. Without Beetlejuice to guide me, I was as lost as a tourist trapped in the middle of Beijing. Dead people surrounded me. Back when I was still alive, I would often receive curious glances from these people, but now I was just another face in the crowd. I attempted to seek help from the people that looked like they'd been in the Neitherworld for a while, but most of them just brushed past me.

I only had three days to retrieve the remainder of my soul.

After hours of seemingly endless wandering, I finally recognized a road that seemed familiar. I knew that Beetlejuice lived in a house off of a winding street with no name, and when I saw a street slithering towards the horizon, I had a feeling that I would be able to find Beetlejuice's house. I looked around for a possible ride. Doomie wasn't around. I didn't have my bike. I didn't have enough money to rent a car. Sighing, I figured that walking would be the best thing to do.

By the time I reached Beetlejuice's road house, my feet were killing me. Again, I found myself wishing I wore flats, maybe even no shoes. It was quite dark by the time I rang the doorbell. A miniature hammer hit a stone skull, creating a loud clanking sound. I stood there for a few moments, tapping my foot against the ground and crossing my arms across my chest. Just as I was about to open the door myself, I heard footsteps approaching me from behind. When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw Jacques walking towards me.

"Ah! Mademoiselle Leedeeya!" the French skeleton exclaimed. Before I could even put my hand on the doorknob, I felt Jacques's bony hand on my shoulder. "You should not go in zere," he whispered, "Beatlejuice haz not been heemzelf lately." I turned the doorknob, ignoring the skeleton, but I turned around when I heard eight feet tapping towards us at once. The discordant tapping made me cringe ever so slightly. Ginger was a terrible dancer and her voice was even more annoying, but I tried to be nice.

"Goodness, Lydia, you look payla than death!" Ginger cried.

"But Ginger, I always look pale," I replied. "It's my natural complexion."

"Yeah," the spider said, "but even payla than usual!" Did Ginger and Jacques know that I was dead? I looked at both of them, observing the frowns and worried eyes they wore. When I pressed my ear to the door, I heard low whimpering. They must've known that something was wrong with Beetlejuice.

"I'll see if I can help Beetlejuice," I said as I opened the door. I heard both of them step towards me and I assumed that they were going to pull me back, but I never felt a tugging force on my cloak.

When I stepped into the room, there was no light except for the pale light that was flooding in from the outside. For a few seconds I wondered if Beetlejuice wasn't home, but the whimpering I heard in the corner proved that theory wrong. I stood in the doorway like a statue for the longest time. He didn't look up. I didn't go to meet him. We both just stayed put.

What was going through Beetlejuice's mind right now? Was he replaying the moment he found my bloody corpse on the ground? It must have been the most horrifying experience in his afterlife, worse than encountering an entire pod of sandworms. How did he feel when he saw the knife lodged in my chest? My cold and still heart ached. I felt more guilt rushing over me and perching on my shoulders. I wanted to cry, but I had to be strong for the both of us. Though it caused him great emotional pain, I knew that he would thank me for this act soon enough.

"Beetlejuice?" My voice seemed to echo throughout the room. It sounded timid and nervous. My feet fearfully tapped against the floor. Would he scream at me? Would he cry even more? Or would he just sit there? I took a line of uneasy steps towards him and slowly reached out my shaking hand. I knelt beside him and rested my pasty white hand on his shoulder.

"Why'd ya do it, Lyds?" he whimpered, his face still buried in his arms. I bit my lip to hold back tears. I couldn't stand to see my friend cry and it took a lot of will power to keep my tears from escaping. I took in a deep breath. Usually I had the right words to say, but at this moment I could not muster any words of support. "Oh God, Lyds, why'd ya do it?" he asked lowly. Pressure built up behind my eyes. Why did I have to cause him such pain? "You had your whole life ahead of ya and ya just blew it all away!" he continued on, his voice getting louder.

"I…Beetlejuice…I did it for you," I finally replied, my voice weak and trembling. He whipped his entire body around. Our faces were close to touching.

"Haven't you realized that I'm not worth it?" he shouted in my face. I watched as tears rolled out of his eyes and down his cheeks all the way to the floor. I had seen Beetlejuice cry many times before, but this time he actually meant it. I felt an overbearing weight sink into my chest, pulling me out of my straight posture and into a slump on the floor. I brought my right hand to my eyes, resting it gently on my face as I tried to expel any tears that wanted to bulge out. I sniffed. He snorted back a huge wad of mucus. The slurping sound made my stomach churn ever so slightly. I tried to wrap my arms around him in an embrace but he pulled away, turning his back on me again. "I don't deserve your kindness," he mumbled. He clenched his fists, opening and closing them. I saw a loop of string poking out of his closed right hand. When he opened it again, my eyes widened. It was the ring. I looked down at its copy, the one that was closed around my finger. I let out a shuddering sigh.

"Beetlejuice…do you know where I can find the second part of my soul?" He ceased motion for a few moments. I waited patiently for him to respond. I didn't stir. I didn't even blink.

"Why…would ya wanna know?" he croaked as he looked over his shoulder, his yellow eyes peering at me.

"I need it," I replied quietly. "I need it so I can give it to Death in exchange for your freedom from exorcism." His teary eyes stared at me for the longest time. When he didn't say anything, I tried again. "Please Beetlejuice, if you know, I need you to tell me!"

"NO!" he screamed back as he turned to face me. Gasping I slid myself a little away from him, taken back by his reaction. I stared at him wide-eyed. "Lydia, listen to me," he pleaded. "You can't give Death your entire soul. Do you know what kind of creature you'll become?"

"I don't care!" I retorted. "If it means saving you from exorcism, I'm more than willing to give up my soul." I felt hot rivers flowing down my face and beginning to drip down my chin. "Please, just tell me where I can find it!" He shook his head back and forth like a bratty toddler. I wanted to scream in his face and reiterate the question until he caved in. He was not allowed to say 'No' to me. Didn't he realize how horrible exorcism was? Had he seen the cruel torture with his own eyes? I would never be able to forgive myself if I saw Beetlejuice's decaying soul floating in that awful room. He may have broken some rules, but I knew in my heart that he was a good person. I hesitantly began to crawl towards him, trying to look as benevolent as possible. I had to find a way to convince him to tell me. His body was closed tight, every muscle tense and protective. He must have known something.

"I can't, Lyds!" he cried. "I can't give it back to you!" He clutched the ring in his hand, squeezing it as he held his fist close to his heart. "Your mortal soul belongs to me now, and it always will!" More tears squeezed out of his tightly closed eyes. I sucked in another deep breath. Juno was right. Our commitment to each other was much, much stronger than marriage. It was an exchange of souls. From the moment he placed the ring on my finger, my soul belonged to him. We would be together for eternity. That was why he got jealous every time I spoke to a boy, living or dead. That was why he was so earnest in protecting me from Neitherworld's dangers, even if it meant standing up to sandworms or political leaders. I was the thing he had that was worth protecting, the thing he would always fight for. He would never let go. He would never let something come between us. He would protect me to the end.

I think I love him too.