Chapter Text
“-Bee! Are you okay?” -Lydia knelt down beside him and placed a hand on his back, fearing for his well-being.
“-I-I'm not sure…” -BJ hadn't noticed the tears until one fell on the floor. He rubbed one of his eyes to inspect what that was and, as soon as he saw that strange liquid, his tremors intensified. “-W-what the…?”
“-What happened? What are those tears?”
“-I don't know… I…” -He had trouble thinking. It was as if his mind was constantly resetting, unable to retain any specific image. “-I felt like I had remembered something for a moment, but then I forgot it again.”
“-Something about those photographs?”
“-I don't know…” -He answered, while running a hand over his neck from side to side. “-I felt like something was choking me… Then it stopped, and then I felt it again… Over and over again.” -He couldn't focus his gaze anywhere. His pupils jumped in all directions, as if trying to find an answer somewhere in space.
“-Is there someone I can ask for help?”
“-No, I don't think so…” -Slowly, BJ managed to get back on his feet, but without looking up. “-I think I should go back to the Neither-World.”
“-Bee…”
“-Please, Babes…” -Betelgeuse hated feeling so vulnerable in front of her. He was so disgusted with himself that he couldn't look her in the eyes.
Lydia was dismayed, she didn't know what to say or do to help him. She understood that she couldn't really do anything and that the best thing would be to let him return to the Land of the Dead. It was actually painful and brutal to remember that, after all, that was where he belonged. “-Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice…”
Not even then he looked at her. He just faded away into a green mist, which dissipated almost instantly.
The girl remained motionless for more than a minute, her gaze focused on where BJ had been until a few moments ago. Her mind, on the other hand, was a chaos of ideas and attempts to find some sense in everything that had just happened.
She unlocked her phone. It was still open on that article’s site. She checked the photos, first his, then the other woman’s; his… wife…? She returned to the photograph of the boy with brown eyes, so different from those she had grown accustomed to.
She scrolled up to where the article began and read it word by word, without skipping anything. Long story short: A couple disappeared thirty years ago, allegedly, the same night they got married. Their bodies were never found, so there are only conjectures regarding what could have happened, highlighting the theory of a planned suicide, a murder-suicide, a murder and subsequent escape. One worse than the previous, and she was one of the few people who actually knew how the story had ended, at least on one side: He is dead.
But if he had died with the clothes and accessories he was wearing that day, why didn't he have a ring? And what was that coming out of his eyes? Did it have something to do with the peculiar color of his irises?
Somewhat more sinister thoughts filled her mind: Had he really lost his memory, or was he just saying that in an attempt to hide a terrible event? Just considering the possibility that he had murdered his wife made her feel slightly dizzy and felt a nauseating twist in her abdomen.
She thought about his reaction when he saw the photo of that woman, the way he held his neck. Clearly it was not a lack of oxygen. That was a reflex; muscle memory, perhaps.
***
“Why is your tie so loose?”
“-I really don’t like when things touch my neck. It gives me the ‘ick!’ ”
***
“-I felt like something was choking me… Then it stopped, and then I felt it again… Over and over again.”
***
“Could it be…?” - She thought. “He said he committed suicide, but he doesn’t remember how… What if it wasn’t like that…?”
***
“-It's just that… you don't seem like someone who wanted to die.”
“-I think that sometimes too.”
***
Lydia felt a chill down her spine. She never considered the possibility that Betelgeuse had been murdered. Even he seemed completely convinced of having suicided. Besides, he no-lived in a suicide shelter, what would be the point of him being there if he hadn’t taken his own life? Still, she couldn't get that thought out of her head.
***
BJ lay on his bed for hours, staring blankly at some point on the ceiling. He tried and tried to remember with all his might, but that brief sequence of memory had completely vanished.
Even the image of that woman became blurred. The only thing he managed to retain was her smile, which caused him an inexplicable discomfort at first glance.
However, there was one image that managed to break through any amnesiac barrier: his own. After all, the memories he had of his life had been recorded in the first person. Seeing himself from someone else's perspective had certainly been shocking.
With that photograph still fresh in his mind, he got out of bed and walked to where his mirror was. He analyzed his eyes, his hair, his skin. He could hardly recognize himself. Did all those ghosts who so denied their appearance feel that way?
Despite being fully aware of his dead condition, in thirty years he never perceived himself physically as such. The corruption of his own flesh, the paleness of his complexion, the contrast with his necrotic hands and eyelids, remnants of vegetation growing on his skin, screaming in the least subtle way possible that while his soul was in that room, his physical self (or what was left of it) rested in some corner of the world, being devoured by worms and roots.
The man in that photo no longer existed as such.
BJ could not understand how in three decades all that had seemed so alien to him. He always considered himself superior for not thinking about what most ghosts did. Now he wondered if the reason for that had been that state of obtundation from which he had just awakened.
Determined, he left his room and went out in search of answers, and he knew that there was one person in the Neither-World who could surely provide them to him.
***
It was a particularly hectic day at that reception in particular. Far from emptying, for every newly deceased person who got called, three or four more seemed to join.
The Poltergeist burst through the main door, and made his way through the hundreds of dead, dodging insults and pushes. He only cared about getting to the window, more precisely, to Miss Argentina.
“-HEY, HEY! -Exclaimed the Beauty Queen, as soon as she noticed the intruder. “-¡A LA FILA!”
“-I don't have time for LA FILA, I need answers NOW, and only you can help me.”
“-Please, don't tell me you've already screwed up…”
“-What? No! It has nothing to do with-” -He inhaled violently. “-Hey, you owe me a favor, remember when Cerati died?”
The Queen sighed. “-Are you really going to play that card on me?”
“-Was that a small thing?”
***
The favor BJ was referring to had to do with having kidnapped and pretending to be the driver who was supposed to pick up the musician's soul at the hospital where he died, since Cerati had been assigned to a reception in the Neither-World separate from that of Miss Argentina.
The Poltergeist managed to infiltrate and, after a heartfelt flattery, drove the Star in a sort of ghost-carriage to where his friend was. That way, she managed to meet him before he crossed over to his well-deserved eternal rest in the Afterlife.
***
Remembering that, the Beauty Queen turned to her desk, where a frame rested with a photograph from that day: She and the emblematic Soda-guy, hugging and posing for the camera.
“-No, not at all… Alright, you convinced me.” -Without further ado, she lowered the blinds on her window and indicated to the Poltergeist where to enter.
“-Hey, it was my turn! Why are you letting this scarecrow go first!?” -Claimed a furious spectre that had clearly been waiting in that room for a few years.
“-Sorry buddy, but there's no way you can compete against that.” -The Queen replied, as she left her seat.
“-I demand to speak to someone else! Where's your manager? I swear this won't stay like this!”
“-And what are they going to do? Lower the salary I clearly don't have?” -She added in a low voice, without looking back.
With noticeable satisfaction on his face, BJ entered the Beauty Queen's private cubicle, who locked the door and told him to make himself comfortable.
“-Okay, what is it?”
“-I need to know…” -He put his hands on his chest. “-What happened to me?”
She looked at him confused. “-W-what do you mean?”
“-How did I die?”
“-Well, you committed suicide…” -She gestured, stating the obvious.
“-I mean how it happened, why does my record only say ‘death by suicide’ but doesn't specify the method? I’ve known other suicides and their records clearly indicated whether the sucker had thrown themselves from a ninth floor or if they had inhaled carbon monoxide, tired of hearing their alarms every day and could stand no surprises any longer.” -He said anxiously, waving his hands.
“-Well…” -She thought for a moment. “-I remember cases where the exact cause is not indicated if the episode was confusing, so to speak. There are people who go for more than one method at the same time to commit suicide, such as jumping into the void and shooting themselves in the middle of the fall, or taking pills and then cutting their veins. You know, to multiply the chances of-” -She crossed her arms over her chest like a corpse and stuck out her tongue.
“-For a long time I believed that this had been the case with me. That maybe I made up a whole plan to commit suicide. Otherwise I don’t know how to explain all… this…” -He pointed to his general appearance. “-I convinced myself that I got very creative when it came to taking my life and that’s why I look like this. But as much as I tried to think of a coherent way in which I could have caused this, none of it makes sense. And now… much less.”
“-What do you mean?”
“-Let’s say that… something happened, and for a moment I felt like I recovered my memory.” -Upon mentioning that, BJ remembered about the tears. “-By the way, have you ever seen a ghost shed golden tears?”
“-Golden tears?” -She thought, even more confused. “-N-no, I really don’t remember seeing anything like that. Did that happen to you?”
“-It was all very fast. For a moment I seemed to be remembering everything, but then I started to cry that thing out and again I couldn't remember anything."
With each piece of information the Poltergeist threw out, she knew less and less what to think about it. "-Gosh, man, I really don't know what to say." -She sighed. "-I've never heard of golden tears or anything like that. I heard of some ghosts who managed to recover their memory, but then soon forgot everything again... Except for... one person." -She remembered.
"-Really? Who?"
Miss Argentina thought for a moment. "-Take it with a grain of salt, since it's just a rumor... They say there was a Poltergeist girl who recovered her memory, but completely lost her mind. Then locked herself away in the depths of a ruined pantheon, at the most inhospitable end of the Ohlsdorf cemetery. Since it’s a graveyard, the Neither-World has no right to take her. They say she's been there for decades, hiding in the shadows.
“-P-poltergeist? And why have I never heard of her?”
“-Like I said, it might just be rumors. There are no records of that, not a name or anything.”
“-I see… Speaking of records, do you think you can help me with a name?”
“-Yeah, sure.” -The Queen walked over to what looked like a small command center near her desk. “-What's the name?”
BJ felt a knot in the middle of his stomach. “-D-Delores Laferve.”
His friend typed the name into the machine and a drawer opened beside it, with a small stack of folders inside. She took each one and spread them out across her desk. “-It matches eighteen people. Is it any of these?”
Betelgeuse leaned closer and looked through folder by folder, more precisely, the cover photo. “-No, none…”
She sighed. “-I’m sorry I can’t help you more, is there anything else I can do for you?”
“-Don’t worry, you did more than enough. Thank you, really.”
She smiled. “-Come back if you need anything else. Let’s call it, ‘suicide buddy privilege.’ ”
“-Yeah…” - He smiled back, not very convinced. “-Suicide…”
***
Lydia returned to her apartment with her head down. She closed the door and let her forehead fall on it, while sighing.
“-Hey, Lyds, everything okay? We were starting to get worried.” -Adam said, peeking out from his room.
“-Y-yeah, everything okay.”
“-Did BJ go looking for you?”
“-Yes, but he had to leave right away. H-he was summoned somewhere else.” -She preferred not to talk about everything she had just discovered with the Maitlands, at least not for the moment.
“-Always so busy, although the truth is that sometimes I envy him. Being able to go here and there, just by having your name called…”
“-It must be tiring to be here all the time.”
“-No, not really. I like being here, but sometimes I wish I could go back to certain places, visit some people to know that they are okay…”
“-And why do you never go to the Neither-World?”
“-Denial, maybe.” -He grimaced. “-We only knew two places: the reception for the recently deceased, and BJ’s room.”
“-Did he take you there?”
“-Yeah, right before you started seeing us, actually. A simple, rather small room, but with a big window. I think that was when I lost the little desire I had to know what was beyond. The sky is painted in a bright-green tone, it feels like it’s radioactive or something.”
“-Probably life-proof… Hey, Adam.”
“-Yeah?”
“-Do you guys remember everything from your lives?”
“-Well, we don’t remember the moment of our death, but I think that’s because we fell unconscious. At least my last memory is… having done something stupid.”
“-Sorry.”
“-Nah, I’ve already more than assumed it, but it doesn’t make up for the fact that it was stupid. Why you ask?”
She shrugged. “-I just thought about it. Anyway…” -She stretched her arms in order to change the subject. “-I think I better get to work.”
“-Good luck, see you later.”
They smiled at each other good-bye, but as soon as Adam returned to his room, the expression on Lydia's face was once again one of uncertainty.
From her computer, she wanted to investigate a little more about the matter. She first searched for BJ, by his first and last name. It was through this search that she learned something more about his family: Wealthy, owner of a laboratory chemicals factory.
Indeed, his parents died tragically: Private flight to a conference in Munich, the pilot had consumed substances before takeoff and ended up crashing in the Dolomite Alps. There were no survivors.
Lydia sighed. That was not pleasant to read.
More than 25 years ago, the factory became the property of a group of people who used to be its investors. It was as if cruel fate had taken care of eradicating that poor family, one by one, almost erasing them from history.
She couldn't find much more about him. The only photograph was the one from the article she initially read.
She then proceeded to look for her, his wife, only finding the same "missing" poster as before.
Lydia leaned back in her chair and sighed. Since this was something that happened thirty years ago, it was not surprising that it was more difficult to obtain some information than it is now; still it was frustrating.
With her arms crossed, she looked out the window, hoping that BJ was doing okay. As much as she was desiring it, she knew that it was best to let the hours pass before trying to call him again.
***
Betelgeuse was in a dimly lit tavern, drowning his thoughts in drinks made with the post-mortem relative of alcohol from the World of the Living.
He was leaning over a table, his head resting on one arm, while in the opposite hand he held the spider-shaped pendant he had taken from Lydia's room. He examined it from side to side once, twice… three times, four times…
He was still tormented by the thought of the way she had seen him before. What if it happened again? Why didn’t any of that happen before?... Why now, when he met her? Even worse, why just when something finally happened between them?
Was this the reminder Miss Argentina was referring to? About belonging to different worlds and the consequences of not following the rules?
In the midst of his drunkenness, the pendant slipped from between his fingers. He tried to grab it in the air, but his clumsy coordination didn't allow it. Without any other choice, and with some difficulty, he got up and chased it a couple of meters.
“-Where do you think you're going?” - He claimed, noticeably buzzed. He dropped his palm on the pendant and dragged it to him. Slowly, he stood up again. “-Do you miss her so much that you want to go back to her…?” -He sighed. “-Yeah, me too.” - Carefully, he put his little treasure in his pocket and prepared to leave.
The next day he was far from feeling better. The fact that he almost never slept was also an impediment when it came to letting his mind rest. More than once the thoughts did nothing but accumulate.
Maybe he just needed to distract himself with something, and what better than going out into the World of the Living to spread chaos? BJ was almost always summoned to do his job, but there was another way to get some fun.
Outside the building for newcomers, it was normal to find ghosts who preferred a face-to-face meeting before hiring the services of a Bio-exorcist.
When he arrived, everything was pretty quiet, so he perched on a column, put his hands in his pockets and just waited patiently, watching the traffic of ghosts going from one side to the other.
“-Well, well! What do we have here? Looks like the garbage truck dropped a bag…”
BJ rolled his eyes. “-Nice to see you too, Milk.”
“-Jeez, mate, you look like shit! Looks like Death’s finally kicking your ass just like it should, huh?”
“-Yeah, say what you want. I guess this is your way of getting even for what happened last time.”
“-HA! You really think I'm going to settle for telling you the truth to your face? I'm saving what you deserve for another time, pal.”
“-Well, I'm glad to know that you still consider me your pal.” -He smirked at him.
A few minutes later, two men approached the pair of Poltergeists. “-Are you Bio-exorcists?”
“-Indeed, but only I complete the job, he's the type of tosser who leaves halfway through.” -Milkhome quickly replied, pointing at BJ with his thumb.
“-Don't listen to him, I'm just faster when it comes to eradicating a plague. My comrade here, on the other hand, can spend a week only thinking about how to scare away a five-year-old child.”
Both men looked at each other, somewhat confused. “-In any case, what are your qualifications?”
“-Well, I don't know how long ago you arrived here exactly, but even my friend here will have to admit that I'm known as one of the most efficient Bio-exorcists, if not the best.” -BJ added.
“-Curiously, it happens that I was the one who taught him how to do everything he knows, and I arrived here sixteen years before him, which translates to much more experience.” -The young punk finished.
“-Well, do you think the two of you could go?” -The other man asked.
“-Sure!” -BJ exclaimed.
“-NO!” -Milk denied.
The Poltergeists answered at the same time.
“-It happens that we are brothers.” -The man explained. “-We have a third brother, who coincidentally was the only one who survived a dinner in which the three of us were.”
“-We believe that he put something in our food to get rid of us and thus keep our part of the family business.” -Added the second. -Most likely there will never be justice by traditional means. We would be satisfied with him leaving the house that the three of us used to live in.”
Upon hearing all this, Betelgeuse and Milkhome exchanged glances and an evil smile appeared on both of their faces.
“-You thinking what I’m thinking?” -BJ asked.
“-I know you know I do.” -Milk answered.
“-So, do you both agree to go?”
Without erasing their macabre smiles, they both looked at the brothers and nodded eagerly.
***
It was a quiet night on the outskirts of Montreal, Canada. The youngest of three brothers, about thirty-five years old, was getting ready to go to sleep in his now very quiet house.
He brushed his teeth, put on some iridescent silk pajamas, and proceeded to wrap himself in the linen sheets that rested on a Queen-sized Hästens.
A small creaking of wood forced him to open his eyes, seconds before he finally sank into peaceful sleep. Hearing no reply, he shrugged his shoulders and closed his eyes again.
Less than a minute later, a second and more violent creaking again disturbed his rest, forcing him to sit against the headboard. He looked from side to side, hoping to hear something else. Despite not hearing another creak, he chose to get up and grab a poker that he kept near the fireplace in his bedroom.
On tiptoe, he walked to the double-leaf door. He slowly opened one of the doors and peeked in, trying to listen more attentively.
The house was completely silent. Still, he decided to go a little further to the hallway on the second floor, where his room was. He leaned over the railing to inspect the lower floors from there. Again, he found nothing.
He thought that maybe he was just paranoid. After all, it hadn't been two days since his "little crime." He figured that a drink would help him to relax, so he went down the stairs to the living room on the main floor.
He turned on a dim light, and from a voluptuous display case he took out a whiskey bottled in 1926 and a small crystal glass. He walked over to a leather chair in the middle of the room and let himself fall into it in a big sigh. He poured himself some whiskey, left the bottle on the coffee table in front of him, and very gladly began to bring the glass to his mouth.
“-And nothing for us, little brother?”
Just before the glass reached his lips, a voice put an end to his apparent peace. His two brothers were sitting right in front of him, side by side, cross-legged on a sofa that matched his chair.
The cherry on the cake, however, was the creepy detail in the eyes of both men, which gave off a yellow light from beyond the grave.
The youngest brother dropped the glass, spilling its contents on the carpet. “-No, im-p-ossible… This is not happening…” - His eyes opened wide.
“-We are sorry to bother you late at night, but on the way to Tartarus we remembered that we left before dessert…” -One of the brothers said, with a slight smile.
“-Just some ice cream and we'll leave. The truth is I can't wait to go back, just seeing the entrance was… Charming!” -The second brother added, with a smile that marked three pairs of wrinkles on each side of his face. “-Are you sure you don't want to come with us?”
“-N-no, get away… GET AWAY!” -The youngest brother jumped from the chair. In an attempt to escape, he ended up tripping against the cabinet where he kept the bottles. The impact caused a few to fall. The last one to fall opened; apparently, it had not been closed properly and the impact ended up loosening the lid.
The man got up as quickly as he could and ran terrified to the main door of the house.
“-Wow, that was faster than I expected.” -said Milkhome, who was dressed as the oldest brother.
They both stood up and stretched their limbs a little, before continuing with the show.
“-I bet he'll go for the Rolls Royce.” -added BJ, under the skin of the middle brother.
“-I don't know, I think the Lambo is faster. But there's only one way to find out.” -He winked at him.
They began to walk towards the entrance. However, BJ stopped when he noticed the open bottle on the carpet.
Milkhome turned to look at him. “-What is it?”
“-N-nothing… You go first, I’ll be right there.”
The young Punk shrugged, but decided to continue. As soon as he left the room, Betelgeuse picked up the bottle, which contained red wine. It looked like wine, it smelled like wine; and yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else in it.
All of the sudden, any sound other than the liquid flowing inside the bottle had vanished. He slowly turned it to one side, losing himself in the watery sound. He turned it to the other side… Back to one side… back to the other…
His eyes were fixed on the hypnotic back and forth of the bottle. In his ears, a crescendo of beeping seemed to try to silence that sound. But as it intensified, the rest of his senses seemed to weaken.
His arms and legs went rigid, except for the hand holding the bottle, which continued to zigzag automatically. He could barely keep his eyelids open. His vision was becoming more and more blurred, and yet he could not take his eyes off the object. His face had completely hardened.
Suddenly, an intense burning sensation took hold of the center of his abdomen, as if he had just been stabbed. He stopped the movement of his wrist, remaining motionless for several minutes.
***
Milkhome was hiding behind some bushes trimmed in geometric shapes, waiting to see what his victim would do next.
Finally, a pair of bright lights gave notice that the poor wretch was preparing to leave on one of his many vehicles.
As soon as he saw the Rolls Royce Phantom driving at full speed, he hissed in disappointment. “-Lucky bastard, he got it right. By the way, where the hell is he?”
The man stepped on the accelerator. He still had to cross a few hectares to find the exit of his extensive lands. The young punk followed him, floating a few meters above the car.
Suddenly, a bright green flame emanated in the middle of the road, cutting off the youngest brother's path, who quickly tried to avoid it, going off the road and crashing into a bush.
He tried to reverse, but the car was completely stuck. Whatever that thing was, it was heading straight for him. Horrified, he tried to get the vehicle out a couple more times, but after seeing it was useless, he decided to open the door and run away.
He only managed to make it a few meters ahead, when something grabbed him hard by the ankle, making him fall face down to the ground, dragging him back again, not even being able to scream.
Once it was in front of him, the creature turned the man around to see its face. In vain, he tried to cover it, plunged into absolute panic.
He slowly removed his hands and opened his eyes, only to discover a demonic-looking being: One diagonal of his body had a human appearance, while the other was enveloped in yellowish-green flames. His eyes were nothing more than two yellow balls of light, which reminded of absolute and uncontrollable animal fury.
He screamed. He screamed with all his might, making that demon even more enraged. Its mouth completely deformed, revealing two rows of sharp teeth, which also seemed to be made of that nightmare-like fire. The creature let out a roar, which must have been the closest thing to hearing two hundred beasts being skinned at the same time. The man could do nothing but cover his head with both arms by pure instinct.
Milkhome jumped on the monster, knocking it down from the side. Finally, the youngest brother managed to break free and ran like never before in his entire life.
“-YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND!? THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!?”
The creature didn't respond. Instead, it tried to escape between screams, with the only objective in mind of chasing and hunting its prey.
“-JUICE, STOP IT, OI” -Milk placed himself in front of him and grabbed him on each side of the face. “-MATE, IT’S ME, STOP!”
The demon struggled with less and less strength. Finally, he dropped his arms and looked down, exhausted by fatigue. Slowly, the fire began to dissipate, and BJ returned to his normal form, collapsing into his colleague’s arms. A few seconds passed before he managed to open his eyes slightly. “-M-Milk…?” -He asked with difficulty.
Milkhome was startled to see a thick, golden liquid flowing from his eyes. “-Jeez, bruv…”
Feeling something running down his cheeks, BJ placed a hand on his face. Then he discovered that it was once again covered in those tears, much more abundant than the first time. “-F-fuck…” -He tried to stand up, falling almost immediately. He was incredibly weak. His entire body was shaking.
“-Easy, mate. It’s okay, don't move..." Milk tried to calm him down, but the truth is that he feared for his friend; he could see that something terrible was happening to him. "-Shite, Juice, when did it start to happen?”
"-I-I... don’t... Milk..." -He managed to fix his eyes on his friend. Fear and anguish invaded him, like never before in the three decades he had been dead. "-What's happening to me!?" -He asked, about to break down in tears.
Before Milkhome could say anything, the two older brothers arrived at the place, and without thinking twice they exclaimed:
"-Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, BEETLEJUICE!"
"-Wait, no-!" -The young punk shouted in vain. His friend disappeared almost instantly.
"-WHAT THE FUCK WAS ALL THAT!?" -The oldest brother shouted angrily.
Milkhome wanted to punch him, but resigned himself to just looking away, dismayed by everything he had just witnessed. “-Dammit, Juice…”
***
Betelgeuse reappeared in front of the suicide shelter, but not having the strength to even climb a few steps, he skirted the building, staggering, hiding behind some columns, like a wounded animal.
He leaned against a wall and let himself fall. He took the spider-shaped pendant from his pocket and held it to his chest.
***
Three days passed, and Lydia still had no news from BJ. Every time the Maitlands asked about him, she claimed that he was simply busy, that he was apparently being more in demand than usual.
Meanwhile, and to herself, she began to wonder if she might never hear from him again.
***
Fearing that something worse could happen, Betelgeuse decided to go out and look for the Poltergeist who had recovered her memory; or at least to verify if it was just a rumor; he had nothing to lose.
In the same building where the reception for new arrivals was located, there was a room with several shelves, on which rested jars with soil from every cemetery around the world.
BJ managed to infiltrate without being seen. He knew that finding the right container among so many thousands would not be easy, but his predisposition was stronger.
Fortunately, the jars were ordered geographically, so he would save himself from having to inspect shelf after shelf. He came to a display case with jars from different cemeteries in Germany.
It took him about fifteen minutes to find the right one. He carefully opened it, took a small handful of the contents and put it in a small bag he carried with him. He closed the jar, left it in its place, and left without further ado.
Once he was back in his room, he took the sample of soil and smeared it on his mirror, in order to create a portal to the cemetery.
***
It was about three in the morning. Adam and Barbara were sleeping in the peace of their room. Lydia, on the other hand, had been leaning against the window frame in the main room for a long time.
As she looked up at the night sky, she couldn't help but wonder how things could have changed so much in just a matter of days. Had it all been for nothing?
As painful as it was, deep down she felt it was for the best. There were too many things that escaped her understanding, as well as her reality. Maybe it had all been a big, singular accident, which was never meant to be more than that.
But if the story was going to end right there anyway, she wanted to at least be able to say goodbye. The brevity of it all did not detract from how significant it had been for her.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and quietly recited: “-Beetlejuice…”
***
BJ could feel Lydia trying to summon him.
***
“-...Beetlejuice…”
***
“-Stop, please.”
Lydia opened her eyes, thinking she heard him behind her. She turned around, not finding him anywhere in the room. “-Bee?”
“-Trust me, it's not a good idea.”
She followed his voice until she found a mirror she hung near her bed. She could see the Poltergeist on the other side, his gaze downcast.
“-Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you.” -She replied, feeling how her heart suddenly seemed to want to flee from her chest.
“-You could never bother me. I wish I could say the same about myself.”
“-I want to understand, Betelgeuse. I'd like to know what happened.”
“-Not even I know. Just mere assumptions, as if the truth wanted to escape from me at all costs.”
“-I have assumptions too. I've thought a lot these days, especially about some of our conversations.”
“-And what conclusion did you come to?”
Lydia thought for a moment. There was no gentle way to put what she was thinking about into words. “-Can I answer that with another question?”
“-Yes, of course.”
“-... Are you sure you killed yourself?”
“-No... Not anymore.”
The girl sighed.
“-Forgive me, babes. You have no idea how much I wanted to hold you in my arms these days. But I don't feel like you're safe with me anymore.”
“-Why would you say something like that?”
“-That thing that happened on the rooftop a few days ago… It happened again, even worse.”
“-The thing with the tears?”
“-Not only that.” -He said, his voice shaking. “-It's like certain things trigger something inside me, and depending on what it is, one or more parts of my body start to hurt like hell. That time I felt something choking me, it was so real… And yesterday I felt like something was gutting me alive from the inside.”
Lydia gulped. She had no idea that whatever was happening to him was so serious. “-Bee…”
“-Then I fell unconscious… I just remember feeling a kind of incendiary anger…” -He added, his gaze lost in nothingness. “-I decided to go in search of answers wherever necessary.” -He redirected his gaze towards her. Seeing her glassy eyes made him feel something breaking inside. “-If I wasn’t so scared, I’d cross over right now to kiss you.”
A tear flowed from one of Lydia’s eyes, as she smiled at him with a grimace. “-I understand… I hope you find those answers soon, so you come and give me that kiss.”
BJ felt it best not to prolong his farewell any further. He took a few steps back and smeared some more dirt on the mirror. “-I’ll do my best.” -With one hand, he pressed the pocket where he carried the pendant, while with the other, he drew a circle on his mirror.
The image of the Poltergeist became increasingly blurry. “-Good luck…” -Lydia placed a hand on the mirror and sighed. But as soon as she wanted to lower it, she couldn’t do it. The palm of her hand seemed to have stuck against the glass. She pulled her arm back with a little more force, without results. A bright green spiral began to appear on the mirror, and Lydia felt her arm being sucked into it. She tried to free herself with her other arm, then with her legs, but nothing worked.
Almost instantly, the girl was completely absorbed by the spiral, and she could do nothing but let out a desperate scream, which was silenced when the portal closed. The mirror returned to normal, and the apartment fell into absolute silence.