There were moments in my life that I laid awake about, thinking and regretting. 

One of them was recreating an eighteenth-century beheading during Rachel White's sleepover. I had been the only boy invited at the time, and she'd had a surplus of Barbie dolls to choose from and a drawer full of sharp knives. People at school still referred to the incident as The Decapitation of Skipper.

I could still hear the sound of Rachel's screams when she found me hiding in her closet surrounded by tiny doll parts. 

This was one of those moments.

"There's clearly a ghost looking for a paranormal pounding in here!" Guy Danger tells the cameras excitedly, and he runs through the living room like a dog looking for a tasty bone. I can't believe that people actually watch this farce of a show. It's like Guy ticks the box for every lame reality show host in existence. Handsome, brawny. Ridiculous and yet memorable catchphrases.

"Excuse me!" I shout at Guy and Karen, and I shove through the mob of cameramen. "You can't just walk into my house and start running around like a maniac! What if I have crack and hookers lying around all over the place?" 

"Oh, sweetheart." Karen comes over to me and puts her arm around my scrawny shoulders. "We understand that you're under a lot of stress. That's normal when dealing with the paranormal." She gestures for the cameras to come closer and then turns me so that I'm facing her now.

"I knew right away that you were going to need an exorcism." She tells me gently. "You poor thing. All that eyeliner, and that strange white coat. Is a demon forcing you to dress like this?"

Wait. What?

"I don't need a--"

I stop when the door opens again and one of the most extra looking persons enters the room wearing one of the most ostentatious hats that I've ever seen. It's like a giant sequined, pink tumor erupting from the top of their head. They wear an entirely pink suit on top of that, and feathers are sewn into the shoulders and collar, giving them the appearance of being a regal flamingo.

"Mother!" They call with all the sassiness of Boy George and Bowie all rolled into one. "I absolutely can't with this house!" They throw a hand over their eyes and sigh dramatically.

Karen forces a smile despite the annoyed look in her eyes. "Madam," She grounds through her teeth. "I thought we agreed that you were going to wait in the van until we gave the signal!"

I can't even muster up the words to convey my absolute awe of this odd person. My dead heart feels as if it's beating again. Madam? Could there be a lovelier person? 

"Darcy," Iggy says from beside me, "We kind of have a problem."

I have to pry my eyes away from Madam, who I'm pretty sure I'm in love with. "Iggy, we have more problems than we do combined brain cells at this point. Which problem?" 

Iggy hands me something and I look down at it. 

It's a chunk of wood with a piece of metal hanging off of it.

At first, I don't know what to make of it, and then I realize what it is. It's part of the cellar door, with the lock attached to it and everything. 

"Eugene," Iggy whispers to me, and his eyes are as round as saucers. "He broke the door down."

Oh. My. God.

"Who's Eugene?" Madam suddenly asks, and both of us nearly jump out of our skins at the sound of their voice. "You don't have a fucking demon in your house or a ghost, so just cut the bullshit so that my idiot parents can take me home."

I open my mouth to reply, and then hear the sound of tires screeching from outside. Heart in my throat, I run to the window and open the blinds in time to see my Acura peeling out of the driveway in a cloud of dust. It's none other than Eugene, driving away into the sunset. 

"What the hell is on your head?" Iggy is asking Madam. "It looks like an artistic representation of Robert Deniro's mole."

"It's Prada, you fucking pretzel," Madam replies curtly. "And I do believe that your friend is crying."

I am crying. It's like the whole world is against me at this point, and I don't know what to do. I sink down onto the sofa and sit there while Karen and Guy run around shouting about ghosts. Eugene is long gone, and there's no way to stop him. 

Iggy comes over and he sits down beside me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Darcy?" He asks me quietly. "Are you going to be okay?"

I shake my head and cry into my hands like a baby. "I don't know, Iggy! Everything's just so messed up. I thought that I could just bring him back to life so that he could actually live like he was supposed to. People shouldn't die at seventeen. It's not fair."

Iggy rubs my shoulder a little and I lean against him. "Can you hold me?" I ask him and sniff a little. "I think I need a hug."

Before he can respond, Madam comes over to us. "I'm guessing that was Eugene who just drove away?" They question, and hold up a pair of keys. "We can take my van. I want out of this shit show."

The clouds suddenly part and I can see the light.