Four days later, it was four days later and Beetlejuice could feel himself going crazy from waiting for news, anything of what was going on in the Living world.

He'd watched Lydia's stepmother cry over her, Charles had fetched a blanket and wrapped Lydia up in it because she was cold or she looked cold… The voices they'd used had been mixed with so much crying that it was impossible to tell exactly what was being said and it wasn't like he could just ask them to let him in.

He'd just stood there, dumb and useless, trying desperately to discern what was happening. From what her parents said it seemed that she was still breathing at least but she wouldn't wake up.

Beetlejuice panicked and had to fight his urge to shove on the glass again when he heard them start to worry 15 minutes after calling the ambulance, saying her breathing was becoming more irregular.

Finally the ambulance came, Charles had picked Lydia up in his arms gently and headed out the door, shouting that he needed help now, that his precious daughter wasn't breathing properly and he didn't know why.

Beetlejuice grumbled to himself, stiffly trying to shift his body into a more comfortable position in his coffin bed. He eventually gave up and laid on his back again, drawing his arms across his chest in a signature death pose as he closed his eyes. Save for periodically checking Lydia's mirror, he'd barely left his bed in the last few days, not knowing what was happening was destroying him, he just wanted to close his eyes and sleep it all away.

-Knock, knock-

"Be-atlejuice, are vous ok in there?".

Beetlejuice snapped his eyes open and glared towards the direction of the door. Beetlejuice had he'd made the mistake of telling Jacques and Ginger what had happened with Lydia when he'd come home after watching her being taken to the ambulance. He knew they were worried and only wanted to help but they seemed to be knocking on his door all day everyday, trying to get him out of bed, trying to invite him on trips out, he just wanted to be left alone.

"Yeah, I'm okay Jacques", Beetlejuice called out, "Just trying to sleep".

Ginger's voice came through, "Come on, you've been in there four days, you could come out with us and-". Beetlejuice sighed irritably, cutting them off, "Look, I'm a dead guy in a coffin alright? I really don't think it's asking too much to let me have a little R.I.P, empathis on the P, ok?".

Beetlejuice heard Ginger whisper something and Jacques sigh, "Ok Be-atle, if that's what you want". Hearing Ginger and Jacques walk away continuing to mutter each other, Beetlejuice sighed in relief, turned on his side and tried again to sleep. Lydia wasn't dead, he knew that much, he'd been checking each daily newspaper for obituaries/new arrivals from her home town. He just wanted to know what could be happening that Lydia still hadn't called him yet.

The word ambivalence had taken particular relevance in Lydia's life right now. She hadn't wanted to die, she was happy that she was alive but she was also angry at herself for slipping up and letting people know what she'd been doing, a small morbid part of her wondered that if she'd hadn't have lived at least she wouldn't have to deal with the problems that came next.

A day or two after the 'incident', she'd woken up in hospital to crying, angry parent and step-parent, asking how she could do something so selfish and cruel, how could she not have told someone, why she would ever attempt suicide when she must have known how badly it would affect everyone in her life (Lydia tried to explain she hadn't been attempting suicide but no one would believe her).
Save the first initial conversation, her parents hadn't really spoken to her much after the incident, almost acting as if ignoring her was the perfect punishment for a 'suicide' attempt.

As per her parents agreement with care staff, Lydia was now stuck lying in bed in a locked hospital room, on observation for both suicide and suspected eating disorder. It was frustrating, being on observation basically meant that a nurse would walk in or look through the door every 15 minutes or so, she had to be watched during meal times and she would have to ask permission and be accompanied if she wanted to go to the bathroom to prevent her from purging or otherwise causing harm to herself.

"130… 131… 132…", Lydia froze on her 132nd cycle of walking around the small hospital room, hearing the footsteps of someone coming towards the door, she quickly got back into bed, lay down and closed her eyes, hoping they would leave her alone. The footsteps paused as the nurse probably looked in, the footsteps then started up again and faded as the nurse walked away.

Lydia sighed in relief, got back out of bed and continued to pace the area of the small room, "1… 2… 3… 4…". She felt disgusted with herself, the nurses currently looked in every 10 to 15 minutes and 132 was the most walking room circulations she could do in that time? It was pathetic. She'd done way more than that earlier in the same day, she was slowing down.

132? seriously? 132?!, Lydia made a noise of frustration and pushed herself harder to pace faster around the room. She wanted to jog but she couldn't, jogging might make noise, noise would lead to a nurse visit, a nurse visit would lead to questions and even more distress and embarrassment for her parents. She'd already disgraced them enough, a social worker had spent hours with her and her parents separately, trying to fish for signs that she was being abused or neglected at home.

She felt awful about that, it wasn't their fault, everything was her choice and it wasn't even that much of an issue, she still ate, she was smaller than a lot of people her age, surely it should be understandable that she should need to eat less calories?

Stopping her self administered pills were the only part she agreed with the hospital on, she'd taken more than she should have, she knew that, but finding out what had been in the pills had scared her- part amounts of cocaine (assumed to slow her appetite but also to make the drug more addictive), laxatives and literal building plaster (assumed to have been used as a bulking agent to make more pills for less money).

She'd been asked repeatedly by her parents, the social worker and hospital staff to tell them who gave her the pills but she wouldn't say, she was ashamed enough being in hospital, if police went to her school and if people found out she was under observation for suspected eating disorder she'd be an absolute laughing stock.

-Footsteps-

Lydia quickly ran and jumped back into bed, drawing up the covers around herself as a kindly looking older nurse walked in, pushing a small trolley, "Hey Lydia, it's 6pm, I've brought you dinner". "Oh", Lydia whispered, it seemed so soon, lunch had only been 5 hours ago, "Yeah, thanks Gayle, I'm not hungry just now, if you put the tray over there I'll have it in a bit". Gayle smiled in a friendly yet stern way, "I'm sorry honey that isn't how it works, I have to watch you eat, you know that?".

Lydia tried to smile back, willing herself not to feel sick as she stared at the chicken, broccoli, asparagus and green jello cup, "Yeah… I know".

Thankyou so much to any favouritors and my reviewer lostinlife from the last chapter , yous helped convince me to keep this story going, hopefully there won't be such a wait for the next chapter.