Lydia awoke the next morning and already it felt like there was a jackhammer smashing its way through her skull. "How much did i drink last night?" she pondered to herself as she looked up at the corner of the room only to find her web harness stuck against the wall. It was then that the previous evening's events came crashing down on her.
"No...WHY?" she asked her previous self she felt a little betrayed by past Lydia. Why had she let Beej get her into such a compromising position?
"you told him you wanted him and that was the truth you can't deny it" the strange voice told her and she had to agree. She had wanted it, she still wanted him, even now. Hell, she wanted him even more because of that erotic little bit of torture he had inflicted upon her. But she really wished things hadn't gotten so hot and heavy like that. She felt more than a little betrayed by her body for reacting so fluidly to his teasings.
She groaned to herself and buried her head under her blanket with a sigh. "Why does everything have to be so bloody complicated?" she wondered to herself. what was the old adage I don't want you to hate yourself in the morning? Well, Lydia certainly felt displeased with her previous self. She certainly had a good deal of self-loathing going on.
Though she would like to spend the rest of the day hiding in bed she had to get up and actually do something for today. She was already in a bad mood but that bad mood became a veritable storm cloud when she looked at the calendar on her phone.
"Now I remember why I was drinking last night" Lydia whispered to herself as she stared at the date in her phone that was highlighted in red. "Why did it have to be today of all days"? she asked herself with another groan. She had a year to prepare for this particular date, but no matter how much time she had to prepare for the date it still blindsighted her every single year and she hated it.
Lydia drifted around the house aimlessly like a black cloud the whole day. Everything pissed her off today it really didn't help that the bathroom looked like some sort of crime scene. Beetlejuice had meant to clean up his little stunt from the bathroom but Lydia was already in there scrubbing away the various nasty stains from the porcelain. He was going to tell her that he could simply Juice away the general nastyness including the parts that could be considered as the ghostly version of a bodily hazard. But as soon as he got close to the bathroom he could feel the pure anger radiating off the woman so strongly he could physically taste it. He had to admit she taste good despite the fact she probably wanted to neuter him or something equally as unpleasant. As she couldn't exactly kill him, but she could make the place as unpleasant as possible for the ghost. She seemed to do this by adding some red roses to a vase in the bathroom. He had to admit she had a good job, as the bathroom was once again sparkling clean and the tub no longer had a deep ring of scum around it.
She couldn't be that mad at him, could she? He didn't let himself get close enough to her to find out. As it was clear as day she was in a shitty mood. He watched as Lydia slammed the cupboard door as she unloaded the dishwasher all the while muttering something incoherent things to herself. He wanted to help her, or at least crack a joke or two to lighten the heavy atmosphere that was weighing down the house. Yet, he feared that Lydia would just choose to take her anger out on him instead. The whole thing came to a head at around 8 o'clock in the evening. He hadn't seen Lydia in hours and he figured that meant she had finally cooled off so the Ghost went looking for the alluring woman. He eventually made his way up to her room only to find the door to the balcony wide open. The frost had already begun to creep its way inside by the time he got up there. He looked out through the open door only to freeze when he noticed the silhouette of a person, standing at the very end of the balcony.
Lydia was standing on the balcony, he realised she wasn't wearing anything on her feet. His gaze raked upwards and he was surprised to find that her legs were also bare. He could see her shapely calves in the pale moonlight that danced off her skin. His gaze continued up her body, he found that she was wearing a little bit but not much. She seemed to be wearing just her panties and as he watched the slender form in front of him removed the black, figure-hugging turtle neck she had been wearing.
"Oh Fuck" he whispered licking the dry scaly remnants of his lips longingly. He watched in amazement and admittedly confusion as Lydia pulled off her top revealing several pieces of ink. They seemed to almost jump out of her pale skin yet the ink looked strangely organic on the girl, almost as if she had been born with it. The most noticeable was a black and white, serpent wrapped around an old-fashioned, look poison bottle. The dog-eared and slightly pealing label featured in blood-red lettering but he couldn't quite make out the words in such a dim light. Though it wasn't the words that bothered him, it was the serpent. A fucking sandworm without a doubt, the stripes were incredibly distinctive and he couldn't help but shudder at the memory of being swallowed up by one of the monstrous creatures.
He felt a pang of resentment and though that mixed with his overall attraction toward Lydia it did nothing to dim his feelings towards the woman. In fact, he thought if anyone could rock the look of a sandworm of all things then she could. He thought it was very rock and roll, though he wondered exactly why she had decided to brand herself with the image of his impromptu jailor out of all the other things out there. He wondered if he should feel slightly flattered by the fact that she had something inked across her skin that was so closely linked to him. For now, he felt a little confused more than anything over the strange addition of a tattoo.
He watched Lydia closely. Her shapely form was silhouetted against the moonlight, every curve accentuated against the murky background of the night-time sky. In what little light filtered in from the other room he could see what she was wearing or in this case what she wasn't. She was totally naked except for a pair of black, lace panties that hugged her pelvis deliciously. There was a little bit of lace along the waistband at the top of the leg line that added a little bit of texture against the otherwise smooth shadow. His eyes literally popped out of his head and he had to quickly reacquaint them with their sockets to regain his composure. He had seen her in her panties before, as he vividly remembered her little stunt yesterday with the photos. Her picture was tattooed on his brain but there was something different about seeing her almost naked in person. He could reach out and touch her, he could step onto the balcony and ravage her tight little body until he had nothing left. But, something stopped him in his tracks, he wasn't sure what it was. Just the odd feeling that he was witnessing something truly magical. It felt like nothing living or dead had been meant to witness the scene before him. He legitimately feared he would be struck down by the gods at any second for butting in on something so sacred.
Yet, he couldn't look away, the woman before him was too mesmerising. He presumed this was what she wore to bed and mentally chastised himself for ending the previous evening so swiftly. Had he known that the woman would go to bed in just her panties he would have stuck around or possibly visited her once again while she slept. After all, humans are rather easy to control once they are unconscious. Something about their chemistry made them susceptible to paranormal suggestion or some bullshit like that. No doubt there were quite a few pages on it in the handbook. Not that he had ever read it. But he had found that this particular trait in humans quite useful in his past cases. Then again he had been giving Lydia a wide berth all day so he guessed he could have missed her dressing and then partially undressing the sexy little outfit.
He languidly took in her form, savouring each and every sensual curve of her womanly figure. She certainly hadn't had these back when they had first met, little Lydia had grown up in a big way and that was something he was very happy about. He was physically dragged from his ogling as the object of his affection shifted in the doorway. Her bare shoulders and neck were hit by a ray of moonlight, highlighting her already heavy pallor. Her neck was a picture of perfection, it was long, slender and swan-like. Beetlejuice wanted nothing more than to add more love bites to her neck. He was delighted to find that a few of his errant kisses from the previous evening had bloomed against her skin. Now she sported a few unmistakable hickeys on her neck. He was rather pleased at that. She was wearing his mark for the whole world to see. His and no one else's. that really did it for him and he began to feel that dreaded itch rear its ugly head once again. If he had his way she would always have such marks and a delectable soreness between her legs after a good night of fucking.
Lydia's skin was ripe with goosebumps due to the frigid winter air, if she felt it she said nothing but stared out into the world of crisp winter. Her shoulders sagged slightly and her head seemed to bow marginally as if she was interested in something in the garden below. She held onto the balcony her black-painted nails looked quite fetching against the light layer of frost that clung to the metal guard rail and the marble floor so tightly it was as if winter incarnate had bloomed from that very spot. There was a void in the frost cover on the ground. At first, he was perplexed as to what it could be; the void was entirely circular in shape and held no hint of any directionality. It seemed completely out of place from anything else but he soon dismissed it as his mind wandered back to the figure in front of him
"Babes?" Beetlejuice inquired feeling the urge to go up to her, to feel the warmth of her skin even for a second but he resisted.
"Does everyone go to the other side when they die?" Lydia asked candidly. Beetlejuice realised what the circular indent of missing frost was as he noticed a lit cigarette hanging listlessly from her right hand. A small tower of ash was beginning to form at its molten tip as the air ate away at the paper. It was clear that she was only a puff or two in and by the looks of it the rest of the coffin nail was destined to char down to nothing.
"Well yeah, sort of. It's complicated babes. Besides I'm sure you have already read everything in that damned manual of yours" he said with a shrug. He wasn't quite sure where she was going with this and he certainly didn't know why she was asking him. If she had questions about that sort of stuff she could have asked her beloved Maitland's before their untimely second departure. He knew Lydia had read through the aforementioned handbook but
"Better yet why don't you ask the Maitlands, I am sure they'd be willing to spill their guts for you in any number of ways" he chuckled to himself as he remembered how easy it had been to despatch of them so their precious house would be left empty. He didn't regret dispatching the two meddling ghosts. He did feel a pang of something at the thought of Lydia finding out exactly what had happened and he wasn't exactly sure why. Perhaps because telling her the truth would no doubt erase the flirty fun that had bloomed between them over the last few days.
"Just tell me Beej alright, I'm in no mood to play any of your games, not tonight at any rate," she said with a pained voice as cold as the night air. "Just give me a straight answer for once will you" she muttered with a sigh of exasperation.
He hadn't been ready for that, all thoughts of a sardonic or sarcastic reply were quickly abandoned. No one told him what to do, ever and usually he would have been burning with rage at the mere mention of abandoning one of his devious games. Yet there was something about her voice that doused the flames of any anger he might have felt. All he felt now was a sense of inane curiosity as to just what the Deetz woman was trying to get at. Well that and feeling incredibly turned on by the wonderful woman in front of him.
He shifted slightly where he stood and he decided floating was probably better than merely standing so he got comfortable before he started.
"Like I said it's complicated. Most people that stay in the Neither world, either do so by choice or because they have nowhere to call home. Houses here get knocked down and they have nowhere to call their own, here at least. Not everyone is fit for the whole haunting gig you know babes" he thought about floating closer to Lydia but he thought better of it.
"Most folks just can't stomach the idea of the whole haunting shtick and decided to do other things. Hell, there is a whole holiday park for the 'living impaired' just to make them feel more 'at home' so most people simply set up shop where they can" He explained, using heavy air quotes and though Lydia couldn't see them she could certainly feel them as well as Beetlejuice's gaze upon her. The ghost tried to piece everything together in a coherent manner or as coherent as he could get. However, this was made considerably difficult as the physics of the Neitherworld could best be described as Quirky and at worst downright hellish . It didn't make sense in the way that the mortal realm did.
"It's pretty easy to find those suckers to be honest. It's not like they have anywhere else to go" He chuffed, continuing on with his spiel.
"Anyone that topped themselves will be working for the 'state'. Office work and the like, talk about a dead-end job" he said with a chuckle before adding.
"Apparently it's some kind of fucking cosmic joke someone made up as a form of punishment or something, I don't know. They can't leave and just spend the rest of their life doing that dead-end job for a few hundred years before they get granted a retirement home in the country". He let out a scoff at the idea, a cosy retirement cottage adjacent to Sandworm country was his personal version of hell. He would rather peel off his skin than go through the rest of his exceedingly long afterlife in a place like that. As far as he was concerned it was more death for the dead than the lost souls room. He would never 'retire'.
"Then there are those that can't get past the fact that they bit the big. You know the type. They tend to be a bit like zombies, just repeating the same thing over and over again, kind of mindless. They spend their time here in
Mortalville, but they are kinda fucked " Lydia had to admit she rather liked the way he enunciated the word fucked , why did these sorts of things always sound so good coming from him. She tried to get her mind back on track as the Ghost continued.
"If you can find them then good luck to ya, they tend to hang around the place they died or some place they hold great emotional attachment to. Not that you can hold a conversation with 'em they're just a memory, no use to anyone" he said pausing for a moment, regarding the cigarette in Lydia's hand. It was in the same place, un-smoked and smouldering away happily. He secretly wished he could have a pack of real smokes again or even a puff on the neglected cigarette. The ones on the other side just didn't taste right. They were a bland and pathetic facsimile of the real thing. The cancer-sticks he Juiced up were quite similar, they lacked a certain quality that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He had tried to improve the quality and taste several times but they were always lacking a certain je ne sais quoi that he couldn't get his head around.
He licked his lips hungrily but continued anyway.
"Then there is the reincarnated. Not everyone stays dead for very long, they got some pre-destined path or whatever the fuck you want to call it. They get to go to the other side for a little while and have fun doing their thing for a bit, before ZAP! They get sent straight back to being a flesh sack and forget everything about their death. Hell, they forget that they ever lived before. It's a fucking downgrade if you ask me, but you know whatever. There aren't that many of that type about. Some of 'em remember things from before as apparently 'the soul' has a god damned memory but most just ignore it. So, yeah you can find a person if they are bound to the netherworld other side you got no fucking hope. Why are you looking for someone or something?" he asked curiosity getting the better of him.
His question however was ignored as Lydia flicked the pillar of ash off the cigarette, exposing the glowing end once more before she took a long drag. She held her breath for a few seconds before letting out a sigh. The resulting puff of smoke made her silhouette look as if it was steaming from the cold.
Lydia turned her back fully away from Beetlejuice, as she bent over slightly; resting her warm body against the cold steel of the railing. The hand holding the cigarette draped listlessly along the frozen bannister as she stared at the dead white world of winter. It was then that he noticed something off about the hypnotising beauty before him. Illuminated by the moon's rays he could now see her in proper definition and what he saw surprised him. She was as he suspected, topless and only wearing a pair of slightly frilly panties but that wasn't what made him stop in his tracks. There were a number of large welts marring the perfect pallor of Lydia's skin. Large scars carved their way through the flesh on the underside of her right wrist. Its tendrils reached up to the very crook of her arm before disappearing. It had started to take on a silvery sheen that meant it had been there for a long time. It was hard for him to tell after all it had been an awfully long time since he had studied a breather in this much detail. The last time had been roughly about 600 years or so give or take a decade either way, if his memory was right, which it often wasn't. He knew he had seen her arms before but he hadn't noticed the scar, he figured she must have used some sort of makeup to hide them.
Yet as she leant further over the rail to gaze at the garden below her, he saw that the scaring wasn't just reserved for her arms. Great thorns of silver gorged deeply along her back. The whole right side of her back was sewn with the huge thorned scars. It was little wonder that she didn't want him to touch her back, as a good few of these scars still looked red and raw. As if she had surgery on them in the last year or two and they were still in the process of healing.
"Babes, what happened?" He asked voice wavering ever so slightly.
"Oh, you know a little this a little that. It's a long story" she said with a puff of her cigarette. Her voice sounded flat and detached almost as if all her emotion was disconnected and had been diverted elsewhere.
"So how do you know if someone was reborn? There has to be a log or something of the comings and goings into the Neither. If the handbook and Juno are anything to go by then I know that democracy is king in the land of the dead" Beetlejuice let out a hiss at the mention of Juno's name. Lydia raised an eyebrow in response, not that he could see it.
"I mean there is technically one but, you have to sit in the waiting room of the damned and get assigned a caseworker before your file properly begins. A lot of folks kind of slip through the cracks because there aren't enough caseworkers to go around. Not that you need them, the nosey old biddies are up in everyone's business" It was clear he was talking about Juno and Lydia didn't quite know how to feel about it. The woman was certainly an interesting individual who could be very sharp and clinical at times, but she clearly cared about all things. Except for Beetlejuice, she realised he must feel very excluded so it was little wonder why he didn't like Juno or the other caseworkers.
"Babe's who are you looking for?" he asked eager to figure out exactly who or what she was looking for.
"It doesn't matter, all I know is that they are dead. Can't we just start from there?" She asked bitterly her voice hitched for a moment and beej he picked up the faint odour of salt that he realised what it was; tears. Lydia, his Lydia was crying for some reason and he wasn't the cause of it. At the same time, he felt a pang of sympathy mixed with vague jealousy. After all, he had put this girl through; all the haunting, the sham marriage, the teasing and then last night almost finger fucking her against the wall. She had taken all his abuse in her stride and he had never seen her shed a single tear. Yet, now she was crying and he felt strangely compelled to find out why and make it feel better somehow. It hurt to see her this way and he would do anything to hear her laugh again and see the wonderful smile on her face.
"Lydia, is there anything I can do?" He asked softly using her name for the first time in forever. His hand went to reach out to touch her on the shoulder but he hesitated. He was unsure how much of her back he could physically touch without causing her pain. He now knew why she had shut down their first kiss so hard. His hands had wandered past her tattoo and against the tendrils of scar tissue. He wondered if he could Juice away some of the pain she felt or perhaps try to heal her at some point. Though right now all he wanted to do was figure out why she was crying and if there was anything he could do to help.
"Fuck off Beetlejuice" Lydia snarled though her heart really wasn't in it. Still, it was a clear warning and he decided to head it despite his confusion. The little three-word threat didn't have barbs to it as one would think. Instead, it spoke of a deep sadness that flowed from Lydia like an endless ocean. He realised he wanted nothing more than to be her life jacket during the times when she was swept away by the tide of depression.
"Do you just want me to go babes?" he answered and he received and silent nod in reply. So he left without a word. He wanted to stay, he wanted to hold her and kiss her until the tears were replaced by her infectious giggle. But, this didn't feel like the kind of pain even he could kiss away. So he simply drifted off into the spare bedroom where he tried to figure out exactly what had happened here on the balcony.
Lydia could physically feel the air change around her as the ghost disappeared. She was glad he had scarpered as she was too tired and too depressed to do anything now but climb into bed and sleep away her sorrows. Though she had one last thing to do before leaving.
"Hey mum, Happy birthday" Lydia muttered to herself lifting the cigarette in the air like a celebratory candle on an invisible cake.
"Hey mum, Happy Deathday," she said stubbing the cigarette out on the frozen railing before flicking the now-dead cigarette into the garden below. She put her shirt back on as she wandered back into the bedroom shutting the patio door back behind her.