Time was creeping by slowly, but I didn't really care. I wanted Arthur to stay out with the crushed pieces of me in his bags. I didn't think I could forgive him, but truth be told, nothing really happened. He was going to do some horrid thing to my body either way, whether it was sending my corpse through a shredder, have a shark tear me to bits, or even just sent me to the dump. That was what I had been hoping that he would do, but really my body would have been shred to pieces and burned any way. Apparently that's how dumps worked, and that's pretty much what Arthur did. I sighed and continued to watch whatever shows were on, which none of them were special.
It was actually the day after the break down of my corpse, and so it was a new day. Arthur had been so tired from cutting me down and smashing me that he decided to take the bags to a dump the next day, which was then. When he came back, I'd still be in a weepy mood, sitting on the couch. Nothing new about my disappearance came up, so I supposed that Arthur would get away with my murder if no one ever found the little bits of me everywhere. Of course if he confessed then he would have been found out, but it didn't look like he was going to do that any time soon.
Arthur waltzed into the house, a huge smile on his face, and I pretended to not acknowledge that he was there. "I'm back, Francis." He almost sang out. I didn't turn to him or acknowledge him at all, flipping the channel on the remote. I felt so lazy in Arthur's house, mostly because I usually didn't watch anything on the television. I was mostly always at a friend's house, at work or...something. Never television unless I was sick.
He sat next to me on the couch and frowned. "You're mad." He observed as I continued to ignore him. "Don't be mad, please? I have no more problems to worry about now, or so I hope. I'm happy, so be happy too."
"People don't work like that, we have our own thoughts." I mumbled, making sure not to actually look at him. His gaze never left me as I switched channels. After a while he shrugged and watched television with me until he became hungry. "I'm going to make something. Want anything?" I shook my head and switched channels again. He sighed and grabbed a bag of cookies from the kitchen, "You know, you're welcome to do anything you want that won't cause harm to me as long as you're capable of doing so." I turned away from the television as a rather distressed man told spectators to hide their kids, hide their wives, and so on, and glared at Arthur.
Really, did he think that I just sat in one place all day? I walked around as he slept, and I was beginning to think of going out at night if my ghostly body allowed it. I didn't think it would be a problem since there was no sunlight, but who knew. As if he read my mind, he asked if I planned to go outside any time soon. I folded my arms and directed my attention to the ceiling, "Why do you ask? Something you want to wreck?"
It wasn't that I thought he would wreck something, it was just to show that I didn't like him very much then, or I was trying not to at least. "What? No. I was just thinking of going out for a drink or something."
"You're twenty, so you're underage. I was already surprised that you managed to buy alcohol anyway," I thought for a second, "plus it would be odd to have two drinks there, one moving and slowly emptying mug, and an empty seat." My belief was that he wasn't thinking much at all about those things, and I had a feeling that he would continue to forget about my absence in the human world.
Of course, he had an idea. "We'll share a mug and you can drink out of a straw," he smiled, "kind of like you were drinking the tea." Gee. I would have thought that he would want to lay low forever, but apparently not. He was suddenly just free of cares since he disposed of my body in a manner that he probably would have called the proper way. It was infuriating, because I knew that if I brought it up then he would get all pissy again. Though I didn't quite care for the guy unless you counted his feelings somewhat, I didn't want to upset him so much anymore. I had enough of his whining little "well you're mean to me you keep bringing things up" complaints, and his "don't be mad at me just because I killed you" or "I don't want you to kill me, everything my way" statements. He just thought that he was correct all the time, a true British scumbag. I couldn't speak my mind, only Arthur could speak his mind. Hadn't I asked him to accept my complaints and stop his? I think he agreed to it too.
At that point, I decided to give up on reasoning with le salaud and just pretend to agree with him, even if there was nothing to agree with. It would be pretty annoying for him too. "Fine, Arthur. Let's go out tonight and share a drink and I'll drink out of a straw, kind of like I was drinking the tea." By the look of his face, I could tell that he was wondering why I pretty much repeated him. "I hope night comes soon."
It didn't. For a long time, we sat inside the house and I listened to Arthur sing along to some old rock songs. I think I died a second time. His voice wasn't horrible, I just couldn't take the music very well. It was clashing with me for some reason, and it was upsetting because I had listened to similar songs when I was alive. I supposed that ghosts couldn't handle loud music. I couldn't help but constantly tell Arthur, "This is why you have no friends." All he could do was smirk and continue to sing. It wasn't why, but whatever.
Finally, the sun went down, and Arthur drove us to a bar that I had gone to once or twice with Antonio and Gilbert. We stopped going because Gilbert...yes, I won't go into that much, but apparently dancing on the tables was something that the manager of the bar didn't commend. It was really bad because he remembered our faces too. Any way, the place was somewhat empty and it was pretty nice really. There were some people in the corner playing cards, some sobbing men in the front, and the damn manager. It seemed like he was staring at me, but I assured myself that he couldn't even see me.
"Just one, and a straw," Arthur ordered, plopping down in a stool with no one sitting beside him. The manager seemed to stare at me, then shrugged, going off to get Arthur a mug. I wondered if he could see me, he seemed to look right at me twice! "I want to talk to you but I think people might think I'm crazy," Arthur whispered, taking the mug from the manager and slipping in the straw. He gestured for me to drink and I sipped out of the straw when the manager wasn't watching.
"It's fine, Arthur. Silence is golden." I took another sip from the straw as the manager turned around. It felt like a game really. Arthur didn't know what to think of my comment I guessed, and so he didn't remark back, taking the mug from me and taking a generous swallow. So it went on like that for a while, until the manager told Arthur that he should lay off of the alcohol or else he wouldn't be able to drive back home. Little did he know, or maybe he did, that I was there. I who could no longer get drunk, hah hah! I wasn't exactly sure how that worked but that's how it went. Something like not being able to feel temperatures. But actually, since I couldn't drive, Arthur ended up driving us home still, but I helped him as much as I could. It was good team work indeed.
When Arthur sloppily parked in his driveway, and stumbled out of his car without even closing his door, I took the liberty of closing it for him, which if anyone saw they probably would have freaked out at the sight of a door closing "without anyone touching it". I helped him open the door and before he passed out in the living room, I guided him towards his bedroom. "You should stick to tea," I told him as he fell onto his bed and groaned, "lay down correctly so I can tuck you in."
He pouted and rolled around on his sheets until he found himself under the covers, his head resting on the pillows. I adjusted the blankets and watched him lull off to sleep. "Good night, Arthur." Out of boredom, I sat on the bed and watched Arthur...apparently pretend to sleep.
"Francis," Arthur sat up quickly, making me jump in fear, "you should lay under the blankets with me." He stared for a long time as I didn't answer because his sudden outburst shocked me into silence. Before I could say anything, he fell back into his pillow and began to snore. After a while of wondering if he was asleep or not, I decided that I would sleep next to him as he asked. I didn't sleep really, nor was I under the cover, but I laid on top of the sheets, closing my eyes at times and just thinking, and for some of the rest of the time, I watched Arthur sleep. We had many moments like those, most fairly similar, and as much as I hate to admit it, we became quite close, probably more close than we would have been if he hadn't killed me. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, but that's just how it turned out.
Through our friendship, if that's what one would call it, I really thought he'd stay out of trouble for the rest of his days. It was a shame that I was suddenly sent home after we spent so much time together, after so many days of bonding even. Anyway, he really did look like an innocent little angel then, and I was simply a ghost. I felt a bit out of place by his side, felt evil even. After a couple of years, I would never think that of myself. I would be a damn saint compared to Arthur and what he hadn't become yet. Until then, I stared with unwavering eyes, at the man I began to consider as a partner in Death, our strange connection between the living and the dead would end in a short time, but years later, we would pick up on a darker note.