Starlight On Kansas

Chapter 2

The backs of my eyelids are orange. 

The sun is up.

It must be morning.

I roll over and open my eyes, making them stay open even though the light stings. After what happened last night, I deserve a little pain.

My fingers slide back and forth between the sheets--the sheets. 

I am in my bed. 

How did I get to my bed?

I move my legs back and forth, a few inches this way, a few inches that way, loosening them up. I can tell without looking, my left hip has a large bruise from my fall.

My stupid, stupid fall.

I sit up and run my tongue over my teeth. I can feel the thick, smooth layer of plaque that's settled in my mouth, sucking out all the moisture. I swallow, but it does no good. 

I need water.

My knees wobble as I walk. The one steady part of me is my head. Physically, anyway. Mentally speaking, statistics would show there is a fair enough chance I am far from stable. 

Oh, well. What are you going to do?

I end up stuck in front of the bathroom mirror, stiff and un-wanting--unable--to move. Staring at the mess I've become. My skin--it's dry, cracked, stiff and bruised. Didn't it use to be my best feature? My soft, flawless skin. Now--now it's disgusting. 

Am I disgusting? 

And my eyes--they're lined with thin red veins, crawling all over them, staining them the color of blood. Dark, empty hollows line the outsides, a clear reminder I haven't been getting my beauty sleep.

I look-- I look like a ghost. 

What if I am one? 

What if I died and stayed on earth and I don't know I'm dead and I'm stuck to wander for eternity?

My breath becomes painfully short as my heart bangs against my ribs. 

 What happened? Did I starve? Die of grief? 

Maybe I got hit by a car.

And what about the person I saw before I drifted off? Was that another ghost? A demon? 

God knows I don't deserve an angel. 

I bite my already-ruined arm, hard enough to draw blood. My eyes lock on the ruby droplets, glittering in the morning light.

Ghosts don't bleed.

I am alive.

Something knocks on the bathroom door, making me jump and fall back, almost into the toilet. My numb body straightens, my unruly hands twist the knob, pull it open to reveal . . . 

Aunt Peggy?

She wears the same red dress from last night, an expensive, full, silky thing that brings out her lipstick. Her hair is shorter, curlier, since the last time we met--

 At the funeral. 

--But the piercing golden-ish green eyes, the sharp cheekbones, hands so soft and small and childlike the ruby nail polish looks out of place--that's all familiar.

"Lorrie, darling? You alright? You look like you've seen a ghost." 

You are a ghost, Peggy. 

I stiffen. "I'm fine." 

She sighs. "Come on, you need to eat something. God, you've grown thin. How long has she been like this?"