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I’m dead.
And no, not the “I’m so dead when Mum finds out” kind of dead. I mean properly dead. Gone. Eighteen and finished before I even got started. Which, if we’re being honest, completely fucking sucks.
You’d think there’d be some sort of light, or an angel, or a celestial welcome party. Something. But nope. No light, no wings, no godly Post-it note saying “Be right back for you, Ava.” Just me, invisible, floating around London like a bored extra in my own afterlife. Been dead a few days. Already bitter enough to haunt people for sport I can see why ghosts get a bad deal of course they are angry imagine watching life happen around you. No control, no one to talk to and nothing left just this empty space.
If this were a movie, I’d have some unfinished business. Maybe a quest, a purpose, a redemption arc. But I can’t think of any. I said my goodbyes, well, I tried. I’ve watched everyone cry, which was depressing as hell. You’d think at least one person would throw a party celebrate my lfie. Something loud and ridiculous. Something more me.
I get why they’re sad. Dying by a drunk driver isn’t exactly peaceful. Still, crying’s boring. Dance. Drink. Live. Anything but this.
They never caught him, the driver. Some part of me thinks that’s supposed to be my “unfinished business.” But what would be the point? I don’t care about revenge. Justice doesn’t fix death. My justice would’ve been getting to live.
So yeah. Ava Silva. Dead teenager. I had an amazing boyfriend, JC. Awesome best friends Beatrice and Camila. I miss them like hell. I miss hugs. I miss sitting without falling through furniture. I miss feeling like I ever existed. Let me tell you ghost thing is such a scam. Casper lied.
I wander because there’s nothing else to do. The city keeps moving, like it doesn’t even notice I’m gone how insignificant we all are its unsettling. I wish someone could see me. Just once to have 5 minutes with someone I love. Who would it be....
Camila would talk too much, as much as I love her, obviously. She’d start psychoanalysing my death between tech tips. “Ava, we should have uploaded your brain before death.” But she’d care. She always cares. Also super religious so she would freak out for 3 of those 5 minutes.
JC maybe… God, I miss him. We were still figuring it out, 6 months in and we were just enjoying each other, he was mine. His hugs, his dumb jokes, his everything. I wonder if he’s okay. Probably not. Probably beautiful and brooding but he will be okay, he is strong and if I came back to him he would think it was a drunken state. So maybe not him.
Bea.... My best friend. She’s the calm in every storm. Feels everything deeply but hides it under that perfect composure. Her british stiff upper lip. She was always the steady hand to my chaos. She would be perfect 5 minutes with Bea thats who I would want to see me.
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My funeral’s today. Everyone’s dressed in black. Which pisses me off. I told them white, ya know those conversations you never think will matter, if I die wear.... I literally said wear white. Celebrate, don’t mourn. But no one listens to the dead girl. Even JC caved to his mum’s “respectable” choice. Coward.
Camila’s the only one who tried so far. She’s in this dramatic white fedora, matching coat, crying but looking like a ghost runway queen. Points for effort. She knew what I wanted and kept to it. I am so putting in a good word with god if I ever move on as for you the rest of you well..... good luck.
Then there’s the crowd. Half these people barely spoke to me when I was alive. And now they’re here, all crocodile tears and fake sympathy. And then I see her. Zori. Standing too close to JC, dressed in blue, pretending to look holier than thou while her hand conveniently grazes his arm.
“Hey JC, if you need a friend someone to lean on, I’m here for you,” she says, soft and sweet, like she practised in the mirror before she arrived.
Oh, I bet you are, Zori.
He sighs. “Thanks. I could use a hug.”
A hug? A hug? You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m right here watching my boyfriend get comforted by the human embodiment of an Instagram thirst trap. If I could throw something, I would. Actually, I’d throw her. I walk away whats the fucking point. I go and stand at the back where some random girls near the back are gossiping, talking about how I died.
“I think she like, died on impact,” one says. I sigh glad I am so interesting in death.
“No, no,” the other replies, “she must’ve felt it, I heard she was conscious for like an hour but it was like Greys Anatomy when Derek died she was totally aware.” I wasnt i say looking at them all.
“Ew, that’s why it’s a closed casket,” the third adds. Hey im hotter than you still even dead I shake my head frustrated.
Camila spots the whole exchange, and just as I’m about to lose it, Camila turns, voice sharp enough to slice glass. “Excuse me? Shut up. My girl was stunning. It’s a closed casket because she didn’t want to see what little attention-seekers showed up. Look at you, dressed like a dog’s dinner, gossiping. My friend died. Show some respect before I take off my Prada hat off and beat you to death with it.”
They shut up immediately. Good.
I whisper near her ear, “I miss you, Camz.”
She shivers. Looks around. “Ava?”
Oh my God. She heard me. She actually heard me or felt me, she felt something. Then she brushes it off and looks away, like she’s imagining things. But she’s not.
I watch heads turn and I turn my head too just as Beatrice walks in stealing my attention and everyone elses. And she’s perfect. Full white. From her blouse to her heels. Simple, elegant, deliberate. She’s a light cutting through the doom and gloom. I’d high-five her if I could. “Go on, Bea,” I whisper. “You look like a fucking angel.”
The service starts. The priest drones on, saying things that sound like he has said them a million times before I have gone back to God, I am not in pain, sucks for him, his whole afterlife spiel its bull. Wait till you are here buddy not gonna be so fun for you too. I tune out until he says, “We now invite Ava’s mother, to speak.”
Mum’s shaking as she walks up. Her voice trembles but she keeps going. “My daughter was a good girl a fighter, she overcame not being able to walk and then became one of the most talented dancers. Her life was stripped from her too soon, and I will always miss watching her perform. She stunned us all everytime she overcame what the world threw at her. I’ll miss her caring nature. I know her father and I will someday join her in heaven and be together again. Until then, please keep dancing, my baby.” I want to hug her. Tell her I’m still here. I miss her so much it hurts but I think her seeing me would hurt her more. Its better she thinks I am in heaven.
"Next up is one of Ava's closest friends Camila." My heart’s already breaking and she hasn’t even spoken. She steadies herself and makes the cross sign over her face. I often forgot how religious she was, shes quietly religious, Camila was just Camila to me most days.
“Hi everyone,” she starts, voice shaking. “I just wanna say I miss Ava. I miss her laugh, her smile, her crazy comments. I miss everything about Ava because she was all-round amazing and beautiful from her skilled feet to her huge heart. No one will ever be like her. But now, I’ll always look up at the sky knowing there’s a beautiful angel dancing in the stars.”
“I wish, Camila,” I whisper. “I really wish.”
JC steps up next. His tie’s crooked. His eyes are dull. “I can’t say much. Everything’s been said. Ava was amazing, a dancer, a person, all of it. She’ll always have a place in my heart. But she’d want us to move on, so… I will.”
A person....Move on? That’s it? That’s all I get? You couldn’t even say you loved me one last time? Wow, JC. Wow.
Then Bea walks to the front and I feel my chest tighten. Her voice is calm but heavy. “Hi everyone. I think we all know how amazing Ava was, how talented and how beautiful she was. But behind all of that, she was also kind, she would volunteer time to teach people to dance, to help other people who had disabilities, showing them limits were meant to be broken. She cared so deeply about people. She’d stand in the rain because she said everything had beauty in it. She made my world better by just being in it. Her smile made people smile. Her words made people feel seen. She was a star in this world, and I’m sure she’s one in the next too. Today, we mourn her. Maybe not tomorrow because tomorrow I am pretty sure I will still be mourning for her but at some point in the future we remember to live for her, put as much love and energy into the world as she did. And maybe we can take a little bit of Ava with us wherever we go to make the world as special as when she was here. In this life and the next Ava.”
Bea’s voice breaks on that last line. And I’m done for. I didn’t know she saw me like that. I didn’t know anyone did. The tears fall down me and I almost laugh who knew ghosts could cry.
When the service and wake ends, everyone leaves. JC’s drunk already. Camila’s trying to keep him from falling over. Mum and Dad look empty. Bea stays behind for a minute. She’s holding a sketch of me. Its amazing. She gives it to Mum, hugs her, then walks away without a word.
Later that night, the world’s quiet. My parents are packing my things away no constant reminder of their dead child. JC’s out cold. Camila’s typing something, probably her next hackathon code. And Bea, Bea’s sitting by her window, crying softly, the city lights reflecting in her eyes.
I drift close, careful not to get too close to her. She’s holding a photo of us. Her fingers trace my face. “I miss you,” she whispers.
“I’m here Bea,” I whisper back.
She freezes. Looks up. Then she smiles, small, but real. I think she feels me, and for the first time since I died, I don’t feel like I’m floating through nothing. The light still hasn’t come, but maybe that’s because I’m not supposed to leave yet.
Maybe I’m not done. Not while she needs me.