𝗠𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗜𝘁 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 ✘ 𝘉𝘌𝘌𝘛𝘓𝘌𝘑𝘜𝘐𝘊𝘌

Ꮯhᥲρtꫀɾ 𝟛: Tick, Tock, Babes

"You'll still get to do all of that. You're going to live," her father quickly promised her, taking her hand and giving it a light squeeze. "You shouldn't overthink it. We'll figure something out. Does that sound okay?"

Lydia fell silent. If she was telling the truth, no, it did not sound okay. They had no real plan, and the odds were that she was about to die in five days. If she had received that news years ago, she wouldn't have cared because she had nothing to live for. Now, she was surrounded by motivation and dozens of reasons that pushed her forward in life. Even if none of it seemed alright and, on the inside, she was terrified, the girl masked all of it with a simple nod to put her father's mind at ease. It was what he wanted to hear, after all.

. . .

That night, Lydia couldn't bring herself to sleep. She stiffly laid underneath the forest-green blankets of her bed, staring off into space with her mind racing in a million different directions. Was Beetlejuice truly being honest, or was he simply fabricating one big lie so that she'd say his name? If she did die, what would she do with the last few days of her life?

The pitter-patter of rain was faintly audible from outside her window. It was pitch black all throughout her bedroom, and she could barely make anything out in her vision save for the outlines of her furniture. She turned her head on her pillow, her chocolate-brown eyes landing on the alarm clock lying on her bedside table. The bright, red numbers read, '2:49 AM'. She sighed, "Damn it," frustrated with her inability to sleep. Too much weighed on her mind to allow her to do such a thing like relax.

"Feeling restless, are we?" An all-too-familiar, gravelly voice rung out from the corner of her room.

"JESUS CHRIST," Lydia yelped with a start, shooting up into a sitting position and fumbling to turn on her lamp. The light flooded into her dark room, revealing her demonic acquaintance hovering above the white carpet in a criss-cross sitting position. "Beetlejuice," she breathed, speechless. Her cheeks became bright red in embarrassment at the fact that she'd just screamed like that in front of someone.

"That's my name. Don't wear it out," he smoothly replied, running a hand through his brittle, green mop of hair.

She hissed, "I thought you said you were leaving us alone."

He cocked up an eyebrow, defending, "Hold on there. I said I'd leave you alone for a bit. Figured I should check in. See if you need any more persuading."

Lydia, not having any desire to continue lying in bed for obvious reasons, threw off her blankets and stood, revealing her loose gray shirt and brown pajama bottoms. "I don't need any more persuading, Beetlejuice, because it's not happening. I'd rather die than go to you for help."

"That's pretty extreme, kid. I'm hurt. Truly. What'd I ever do to warrant that?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm. He wasn't actually  hurt in the slighest that she doubted his motives; it was, to him, nothing more than an inconvenience.

"Hm. I don't know, BJ. Let's see," she thought. "You used me. I trusted you, and you used me. You lied to me. I had to run through a portal to hell just to get away from you, and when I came back, you were about to murder everyone. I had to marry you just to prevent you from ending all that I loved."

In realization, he shrugged. "Huh. Guess I did. BUT I also saved your life twice, so that kinda cancels everything out, don't you think?"