"You can see me?" His green eyes widened.
Unfortunately? Yes. I nod politely.
He draws his right hand to cover his dropping jaw ever so slightly, while his other hand messes up his disheveled hair. His thumb presses one side of his lip while his fingers continue to graze his thin lips. Then, he starts to walk back and forth in front of me.
I suppose it is quite hard to process the fact that you're dead—or rather undead. Since he's both alive and dead at the same time, I'm not sure how to call him. Hell, I'm not even sure what he is.
I've seen more ghosts than anyone ever has—a gift I gained after a freak accident six years ago. But I've never seen a ghost who's still alive before. So, if these two are the same person, this would definitely be a first; an anomaly nonetheless.
Perhaps it's the barbiturate. Perhaps Claire was right and The Hill is some sort of magical place where anything could happen. Or perhaps The Almighty just likes toying with me.
Aren't you the least bit curious about him, Alexis?
Get out of here, Evil Me!
I decide to proceed to do what I came here for, checking John's condition so I can go home and sleep for the next 24 hours. But as I continue observing the man, I can't help but notice the similarities between him and the ghost who's about to drive me crazy by circling round and round in front of me.
The ghost has an almost perfect chiseled face; not too strong, not too soft. The same goes for John. Although I can't possibly make up what he looks like without all that bandage wrapping around his face, he has a straight-edged nose and an overly well-proportioned face too. Not to mention, three hours of looking at John's pre-mummified head in the OR tells me they have the exact same short light brown hair.
The only difference between the two is the person laying on the bed is burnt while the ghost isn't.
Can they really be the same person?
See? Just admit it, Alexis. You want to know the rest of the story. You want to investigate. You want to sink your teeth in this case and bite it with all your might.
No, I don't.
Bullshit.
I brush the crazy thoughts away and continue the procedure. It doesn't take long for me to finish it. Afterward, somehow my gaze is drawn back to the ghost whose eyes seem to be fixated on John. Maybe it's the curiosity talking. Or maybe because he's just so damn good looking. Or maybe it's because of the inevitable sight of his broad and muscular chest that keeps teasing me every time he moves. But, I can't stop staring at—ahem, observing—him.
He is wearing a plain grey tee with a navy green shirt hanging loose. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled slightly below the elbow. The muscles in his strong arms are revealed even more as he clenches his fist. To think that all that layer of clothes can't even hide his muscles. I wonder what it would look like without them?
Wait. What the hell? I can't believe I just fantasize about a patient's abs. Not cool, Alexis. Not cool!
But if all that staring helps me with anything, I realize John also has strong abs—albeit less attractive because of the lack of skin—and they also have the exact same height, which is about six feet tall. Judging by their overall bone structure, I'm 95% sure they're the same person. The other five percent is because I've seen enough cases—okay, movies—involving switched or stolen identities.
Save yourself the time and stop lying to yourself now.
Shut up!
I try to brush the thoughts away from my head. I move closer to the bed and grab the medical chart which is tucked inside a plastic-covered placeholder. I write the rest of my observation—John's condition, not the ghost—and leave it there for the nurses.
John is doing really well; there's a huge chance he'll survive this hellhole. I certainly hope so. The same cannot be said about the ghost who hasn't stopped moving in front of me, all the while thinking the life out of him.
"So..." he mutters.
I switch my gaze onto his face. He finally stops moving, turning his gaze upon me.
"Am I..." He pauses for a while, hesitation spreads across his face. Yet, somehow, there is an unexpected amount of calmness in his voice when he continued, "Dead?"
"Of course not! See, your heart rate is fine!" I gesture at the heart monitor which beeping sound echoes throughout the room.
"So this is really me, huh?" he says, stepping closer to the bed.
"Wait, you don't know?"
He shrugs.
"How come you don't know? I mean, where did you wake up? Did you climb out of his body? Or did you come out of a coffin? Or did you just—" I drag both hands to my mouth as I clamp it shut the second I realize he's looking at me with awe.
"Sorry," I say softly.
He smiles softly. "I woke up in the middle of an empty land quite far from here. At first, my head was pounding and my whole body ached, as if every part of my body was burning. I tried to scream for help, but there was nobody out there. So... I walked."
He begins to demonstrate by walking back and forth in front of me. Again.
"I walked, and kept walking, searching for someone. Anyone. Before I knew it, I arrived in the town. I tried to talk to some people, but none of them seemed to notice me. Then the strangest thing happened." He stops moving, throwing his gaze out the window as I wait with full-on anticipation.
"An old lady walked right through me!" he says, his tone slightly raises as disbelief fills his voice. He gulps, catching a breath from his long speech.
"I thought I must've hit my head pretty damn hard and went nuts, but I found that I could also walk through doors. So, I figure I must've been..." he trails away, throwing his gaze onto the floor.
"Dead?"
You just had to rub it in his face, didn't you?
Oops.
Hearing the word I said, he turns around and faces me. But instead of getting angry, he seems rather amused by what I said. "Exactly."
"Nevertheless," he continues, calmness finds its way back to his voice, "I kept walking. It's as if I was pulled by some unknown force to get here. The next thing I knew, here I am. In this room. Then you came."
Well, that only adds gasoline to the fire now, doesn't it? Give up already, Alexis! You know you're not that strong.
No, no, no! I'm strong, alright. After all, I didn't move 600 miles only to be dragged into the same thing all over again, did I?
"I'm so sorry," I say softly.
His lips straightened. "Yeah, me too."
The only thing in my mind right now is to leave this room and never come back.
Okay, I'll have to come back tomorrow since I am his physician. But right now, I need to leave before I say—or do—anything I'll regret.
***
I close the door to my apartment and hang my key on the small key holder next to the light switch. After taking my shoes off, I head straight to my tiny bedroom. I throw my bag to the floor and untuck my hairband, letting my shoulder-length brown hair loose before I ram my body against the bed. I can feel the sharp edges of the bed hits my ribs as I turn my body around, facing up to the ceiling. My bed isn't the most comfortable, but it's all I can afford.
I close my eyes, trying to get some sleep. But the longer I close my eyes, the more my mind pulls me back to Freddy—ahem—John.
How did he end up dead and alive at the same time? Was he involved in some sort of witchcraft? Or was it really The Hill's doing? Or am I just going all Patrick Bateman?
You might think it's weird, but I used to love dealing with ghosts. They were fairly more interesting and somehow much more sincere than living humans. For one, they wouldn't stab you in the back. And no, they didn't have blood covering their faces, nor a bloody knife stuck in their heads, and all of them still had their heads intact to their necks perfectly—even the girl who got hit by a train. The ghosts I had seen always looked like their past, normal self.
So basically, it was the same as socializing. Only with the dead. And I liked them much better than the living.
The ghosts I had met so far have always been nice too. Cranky, mostly. Annoying, sometimes. But never evil. Somehow, they always brought joy and excitement to my dull life.
Meeting a new ghost was like opening up your Christmas present. You didn't know what was inside, you didn't know what you were going to get, but it always managed to put a huge smile on your face.
Helping them finish whatever business they had left in this world so they could cross the rainbow was one of my favorite things.
But make no mistake. I'm not a saint. I didn't do what I did entirely for them. I was doing it for me too. The mission, the secrecy, the adrenaline rushing through my blood. For a moment, the thrill made me feel as if I were a female version of James Bond. Running around, saving the world, helping to find a new owner for an old lady's cat.
But, no one told me that it would cost me everything. I had to learn it the hard way. Even though the ghosts were not a problem, the humans—however—were.
And now that I finally managed to rebuild my life anew, I find myself asking the same question over and over again. Do I really want to throw away this rare chance for someone I don't even know the name of?
Ah. I forgot to ask his name. Well, I guess I have one more reason to talk to him now, don't I? The least I can do is inform his family and friends that their loved one is fighting for his life. He is my patient after all, which makes him part of my responsibility as a doctor.
After all, what's the worst that can happen?
Author's Note:
So that's our John Doe! More mysteries to come. I hope you like this chapter. I'll post the next chapter as soon as I can.
For those of you who don't know, Patrick Bateman is the main character of "American Psycho" who - spoiler alert - imagined himself as a serial killer.
As always, comments and votes are greatly appreciated!
xoxo.