Like a Phoenix

For the first time in her life, Marianne was completely alone. As she sat inside of the old, rapidly decaying house, she realized this. Faust was dead, she knew this out of pure instinct. When you're a ghost, you learn to sense that sort of thing. It had been a while since she eaten, but even in her new body, food seemed pointless. The entire reason she had been brought back was gone, now.

She knew she had to look for Thaddeus, he was the only person she knew now, but he didn't know her, and she was afraid of being rejected. Soon she knew venturing outside would be necessary, but until then, she just sat in the house and waited for something to happen.

Thaddeus stumbled into the house, unsure of where else to go; he couldn't walk through the streets with this much blood on his clothes.

Faust was dead...it should be a relieving thought, but the more he dwelled on it, the heavier he felt. Disoriented, he scrambled for the bathroom--he had to get rid of this blood.

On Faust's rather well-used bed sat Marianne. She only looked up when she heard the commotion, and when she saw a flash of red from her perch on the bed, she stood up. She crept through the halls, sticking to the walls. Finally, she peered into the bathroom tentatively, afraid of what she'd find.

Inside the bathroom was a frantic Thaddeus; he was his hands over and over, but he was never satisfied with their state of cleanliness. The mirror was bashed in, and shards littered the floor; he had broken it upon seeing his own reflection.

Giving up on the sink, he went to turn on the shower.

She switched the sides of the doorway she was as quickly as possible, so as to get a better vantage point. She hoped Thaddeus hadn't heard her.

At the same time, she knew she had to let him know she was there before he found out on his own. She was afraid of what would happen if Thaddeus found her before she had a chance to explain.

Still, maybe she could wait a bit longer...

Thaddeus flinched as a floorboard squeaked under Marianne's weight.

"...Who's there?!" he demanded.

She bit her lip, but in the end, she revealed herself by stepping into the doorway. Though, first, she backed against the hallway wall, away from the doorway. She was wringing her dress in her hands, as if that would help her to calm down.

"H-hello, Thaddeus." She said softly, unable to stop staring at him. She'd never actually seen him in person. People tended to look much different when you saw them as a human, instead of as a ghost.

He flinched at the sound of his own name.

"Who the fuck are you?!" he barked, tense with paranoia. "What are you doing here--how the fuck do you know my name?!"

Oh, right. He didn't know her. She had forgotten momentarily.

"Well, I'm...Marianne." She paused. "I...well, you could say I live here..."

She ignored the last question, mainly because she was hoping to avoid mentioning Faust's name.

He cracked his knuckles, taking a threatening step closer.

"I've never seen you here--if you lie, I'll fucking break your neck."

She pressed herself against the wall, flinching away out of instinct. She did not want to die so soon after regaining a life.

"N-no! It's true, just...listen..." She glanced at him. "It's...a rather long story, and I'm not sure if you're in the state to hear it right now..."

She purposely mentioned avoiding using the phrase, "covered in blood".

"Start talking before I get impatient," he insisted.

She frowned, but nodded.

"Well, I'm...Marianne. Like I said. He told you about a woman he was trying to bring back. I'm her. It only happened a few days ago, and I've just been waiting..." She kept talking, in the hopes that Thaddeus might calm down. "I-I know about, well, him, but I also know a lot about you. You and him, actually. I was a ghost, before this anyway, and I was watching him the entire time, and so I Was also watching you, and I...I like you, so please, don't...hurt me."

At this point, she was nearly cowering in a ball, huddled up against the wall.

Thaddeus raised a hand to grab her, but something peculiar happened: the image of Faust's crumpled body flashed before his eyes, and he found himself unable to continue. He dropped his hand, a wave of nausea sweeping over him.

"...Give me one good reason not to put you out of your misery," he spat hollowly.

Somehow, she managed to smile.

"Because you're the only person who even knows I'm alive. Even if you do kill me, I...well...I guess I wouldn't mind, anyway. All I had was him, and...I'm very alone, now."

He glared.

"You don't know what that word means, I'll bet."

She shook her head.

"No, I can't say I do. After all, I've never been alone until now."

He laughed harshly.

"I've been alone in roomfuls of people since I was born."

She glanced at the floor for a moment before she looked back at Thaddeus.

"Would you like me to help wash you off?" She offered, hoping to change the subject.

"I don't need help," he growled, yanking off his jacket. He sighed, waling back inside of the bathroom.

"...You know I can't let you leave, now. You knew Faust--you probably know whose blood I'm covered in."

She just watched him, folding her hands.

"It's not that hard to guess." She said quietly. "But, really, please let me help you."

"Don't touch me," he insisted. "I don't want your hands on me or his blood."

She fiddled with her dress more.

"...Yes, I suppose you're right. It's just been a long, long time since I've touched someone."

"Why should I care?" he asked gruffly, stepping into the shower.

She smiled a knowing smile to herself.

"You're right." She changed the subject again. "What are you going to do with me?"