Yes, the Bastard Planned For Everything (Not so Dark Ending B)

I groaned as I noticed I had once against lost my focus, grabbing the phone to check the time when I should have been finishing a report instead. I sighed, frustrated. This had been a common occurrence for the past few days. I'd find myself waiting for something, though I didn't really know what. I would stare at my phone, as if expecting a call, but none would come, or they would just feel unrelated to that strange feeling I had. I would stand up and look over the thin walls of my cubicle, staring at John's empty desk, expecting something, but whatever it was, it never happened.

For some reason, though, as I got rid of my phone to try and be productive for the last five minutes of the work day, I knew I wouldn't be waiting for that sort of thing ever again. Whatever I was waiting for, I knew it didn't matter anymore. It was strange, but I had work to do. I'd worry about that another time.

What worried me, though, was that today was Friday, and I was afraid of what my colleagues would say when I'd turn into a manic, crazy version of myself, trying to serve a master who was no longer among the living. I hoped I wouldn't cause too much of a scene.

I had just sent the final email of the week and the clock on the bottom right of my monitor turned from 4:59 to 5:00, my phone buzzing.

It took me a while to figure out what the fuck was going on, as if the bitch's brain was struggling to catch up with the sudden change in her personality. I looked at myself, my body feeling alien to me, and then at my surroundings, trying to remember where the fuck I was. I was in the office, and it was 5PM, and I was awake. Shit... That was bad news. I scanned her memories, looking for clues as to what manifested me, and I found them. John's corpse in a motel, the police, her boyfriend's attempts at helping her, all of it. Shit... I felt nauseous. My stomach was turning, and I could feel tears in my eyes. The poor girl was crying. I was crying...

I shook my head and quickly gathered her stuff, her movements easy and natural. She'd done it a thousand times before, and she was the real one after all, I was merely an echo. I rushed out of the building, trying to avoid any confrontation with her coworkers. I was too upset to deal with that shit. I had one job to do, and then I'd be gone for good, and I'd be able to mourn myself in some dark corner of her mind.

She knew the way back home by heart, and her body was moving almost by itself as she headed for the subway station, taking her usual route. It left me plenty of time to try and come to terms with my absurd and brief existence. I was sorta pondering the meaning of life when a familiar black Ford pulled up beside me. I froze and turned to look. The window rolled down, and I saw Simon behind the wheel, looking at me with an anxious expression on his face.

"Well, look who decided to show up!" I said, smirking, my voice a bit hoarse. I could feel my brain, Ashley's brain, working overtime to find the right tone, the right attitude, the right expressions, all from memory. It was a strange feeling. "You and I need to have a little conversation about our little slut here."

"What?" He said, sounding confused.

I walked around the car and opened the passenger door, sitting on the seat next to him. "It's me, you idiot..."

"John?" He mumbled. "What... How..." The look on his face was priceless. I had to laugh.

"Yeah, well, kinda John." I said, sighing. "More like Ashley trying her best to put herself in my shoes."

Simon's mouth was gaping, and I couldn't really blame the poor sap. I'd been through the same shock not ten minutes ago. He wasn't the one stuck in someone else's body. Though, as I looked down at the bitch's huge tits, I felt like I couldn't really complain. It was funny, getting aroused by the sight... I guess Ashley expected the real me to appreciate them and I guess she was doing a good job pretending to be me. Hell, I felt like I was me! I wasn't though, I was her... So fucking weird...

Simon followed my gaze and seemed to freak out even more. I chuckled in what my little slut probably thought was a good impression of my real self. Not that I'd actually know... Would have been nice to ask the guy if he thought I was doing a good job being him, though. RIP.

"Relax, you idiot," I sighed. "I'm not staying for long." I looked at the road in front of us and gestured at him. "Drive."

"Where?" He said. I could feel the fear in his voice.

I shrugged. "I had a funeral, right?" The poor boy had to be scared shitless. I was dead, and here I was, a fucking ghost in his girlfriend's body. "I wanna see my tombstone. Drive my old slut to the graveyard. Let's have her pay her respect to her dead master."

He was pale as fuck as he started the car and drove away, heading to the cemetery, his eyes on the road, his hands tense and shaking. "So what are you exactly? One of John's dead man switches?" He asked with a shaky voice.

"Yeah," I answered truthfully. "I'm not an idiot. I planned ahead for all sorts of scenarios." I chuckled and grabbed at one of her boobs, squeezing it. I wasn't gonna let her go without having a last bit of fun, was I? "Honestly this specific one I didn't expect, or should I say I didn't hope for. But here I am, I guess." He looked at me, still pale, still afraid. "Listen... There were a few triggers in place that Ashley had to be exposed to on a regular basis so that if something happened to me, if you tried to stop me from contacting her, there would be consequences."

"But... John's dead... You're dead..." Simon muttered, and I felt a shiver in the bitch's body as I heard the words again.

"I know that, dipshit." I groaned and rolled her eyes. "And if there was any reason to suspect you were involved, I wouldn't be here. Instead, your precious girlfriend would already be trying to come up with covert ways to ruin your life." I chuckled, looking at him as he stared at the road, digesting what I was telling him. "But if I wasn't around for some other reason, something that wouldn't be your fault, I'd show up."

"What, to haunt me?" He scoffed.

"Jesus, pal, I don't think that highly of you! Ashley can do that all by herself." I laughed. "Nah... Without the real John around to decide what should be done with her slutty little mind, she'd have to make decisions for herself."

"As you?" He said.

"Well... That's the closest she's gonna get to letting me decide, isn't it?"

He seemed to relax a bit as he realized he wasn't in trouble. Not directly anyway. "So she gets to... what... reprogram herself? Based on what she thinks John would do?"

"You got it, buddy. I've got the keys to her brain." I said. "Now I, I mean she, will have to decide what to do with herself." I chuckled and leaned back on my seat, staring out the windshield. "It's a hell of a thing, right?" I said, shaking my head.

"So I'm taking you to your fucking tombstone and then what?" Simon asked. He sounded frustrated, but I couldn't blame the guy. I may have believed I was John, he and I knew I was merely Ashley in disguise. But she had **** but to play the part so well she could trick herself. And I guess the poor guy was wondering if she'd play him well enough to doom herself, and him, out of what she imagined a now dead man would want.

I shrugged. "I don't know yet, honestly. Maybe that's why she's making me do this. To help decide, you know?"

"You're dead, John, for fuck's sake..." Simon said, and I felt a pit in my stomach. I was scared. I was sad. I was mourning myself. Talk about one hell of a roleplay! "You've got nothing else to lose or gain from this, so please just... Let her go. Let her be free from you. Please." The desperation in his voice was palpable.

"Free? You want her free or you want her to yourself?" I asked, and he looked at me, his face a grimace of anger. Yeah, I was pretty confident I would have said that.

"Fuck you," he blurted out, and I couldn't help but laugh. That too, I would have done.