How many tears on your pillow.
crocodile or real. water shed.
Brian Jones drowned. face down.
in a child's pool of water. youth fountain.
*

Delia didn't believe him naturally, how should she? It was insane and shouldn't she maybe remember dying? He had to be kidding her, but why? She didn't know him or at least not to a degree where he would play such a cruel joke on her and she certainly wasn't buying this Rolling Stones story.

He had told her his name was Brian Jones, which again sounded familiar to her ears even if she still couldn't place him. Then again it was a rather common name, though he wasn't.

After some pressure from her side, he had agreed to get out of bed and got dressed. Delia wasn't exactly sure how she was supposed to describe his fashion sense, but it definitely held noting ordinary about it and she wondered where she could have seen him before. The way he dressed nobody could just forget him and still she had.

Delia had asked or rather she had demanded that he explained himself, but instead he had offered to make her a cup of tea to help her calm down, because it was going to be a longer tale. She hadn't been very sure of his offer, fearing he might drug her up again, but she had no proof and Delia really wanted to know what was going on.

The moment Delia entered the kitchen, however she nearly had some kind of panic attack. Everything looked like it was out of the 60's or even older. Whoever Brian Jones was, he didn't own anything out of this century, or maybe whoever it was that was playing this joke on her had put a lot of effort in this and thought. However she had no idea, who would go that far to get revenge on her. Naturally there were a few people that were angry with her, but she could see none of them paying her back like this.

Her ex boyfriend was rather the type to break into her flat and steal her television or something else valuable than think of a diabolical plan to drive her insane or make her believe she had died. He was not exactly the clever kind, not that she had minded. To be honest Delia liked to be cleverer than the people she was with, not to make herself look better, but simply to get what she wanted. Simpler minded people were easier to manipulate.

Then there was an ex colleague Delia was guilty off getting sacked. She had made the mistake, but blamed it on the other girl. It hadn't been one of Delia's best moments, but she couldn't afford losing her job and the girl had it coming anyway. Always bragging about her rich boyfriend and other things Delia didn't give a fuck about. She was a stupid barbie doll that probably only got her job, because she dressed like a slut. Delia had never liked her much. It wasn't jealousy, Delia had no reason to be. She was attractive as well and knew it, but she despised people that thought they were better than others and she had deserved to be put back into her place. She definitely had a reason for revenge, but what should she get from making Delia believe that she had died?

There was only one more person Delia could think off, who would maybe want her to suffer, but that couldn't be... It just couldn't. It had nearly been 7 years and she had been the one to suffer the most from it, not the others. Delia still had to live with the consequences...

However, this kind of revenge would make so much sense then... Letting her believe she was dead as payback for Mark. She had wished them to be exchanged for the longest as well and she suspected some of the others still wished them to be.

His death hadn't been her fault, but she was responsible for it.

"If this is about Mark, you can just stop. I still feel guilty enough without this stupid mind game. I know I should have died in his place."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said and sat the cup of tea down on the kitchen table. Delia had missed him making it in wonder of the vintage kitchen. He sat down with his own cup and lid a cigarette and Delia suddenly craved one as well. "I made you a fucking cup of tea, which you could appreciate, instead of accusing me again of stuff. I didn't abduct you nor am I playing mind games with you. I wanted to at first, because why the heck not, but you obviously have no humour. So can you please sit down and we can get this over with."

Delia snorted. "I'm sure you would be in an ecstatic mood if some strange guy you woke up in bed with tells you you're dead. Why was I even there? The last thing I remember is taking a bath and feeling sleepy, so I suppose I feel asleep and drowned, even if I still don't get how I should have missed that."

He shrugged. "You missed far more. Whatever you took probably was a lot stronger than you anticipated."

"What did you do to me?" She asked and took a step closer to him.

"Sure go ahead and accuse me some more. I'm not the one intruding your condemnation. You appeared out of nowhere in my bathtub, while I was relaxing and I was nice enough to dress you and put you to bed. You should thank me, but I probably shouldn't have bothered. You have lovely breasts, you know?"

Delia crossed her arms before her chest as if she wanted to hide it. "Okay let's assume I believe you for a minute, what do you mean with condemnation and what do I have to do now that I'm dead?"

He shrugged and took a drag from his cigarette, which unnerved her. She needed one as well. "Nothing really. They trow you into your own personal hell and then you have to suffer there until I don't know... I haven't got any further than that."

Delia raised an eyebrow. "And your personal hell is living in a mansion from the 70's?"

"You really have no idea who I am."

"I told you before that I might have seen you before, but I can't remember you," she told him rolling her eyes.

"I was guitarist for the Rolling Stones until '69 when I drowned in my pool."

Delia remembered that story. Mark had been fascinated with the idea. The J club as he used to call it, not the 27 club. In his mind for whatever reason Kurt Cobain didn't belong and he probably wouldn't have agreed on Amy Winehouse either. Delia couldn't remember much, beside Mark talking about the great J's sometimes late at night and how cruelly life was... Even if they hadn't known yet how cruelly it really was, but they had soon discovered it the hard way.

However, Delia didn't want to think about that now, she had other problems at the moment. She still wasn't sure if she was supposed to believe him or not, even if she knew who he was supposed to be, she couldn't be sure he was really who he claimed to be. Her knowledge was limited. Mark had never mentioned any details about their lives and her ex boyfriend had never said much about the former guitarist of the Rolling Stones.

"So you're the guy who took too many drugs for the Rolling Stones and they had to throw out?"

His face fell and Delia could swear he had to take a minute to calm down again. "Is that what they make me out to be in- what year are you even from?"

"2017 and I don't know what people say about you. My ex boyfriend was a Stones fan and I think that's all he said about you. Apparently it was quiet the achievement to get thrown out of the Rolling Stones for taking too many drugs. He could have said more, but usually I wasn't really paying attention."

"He sounds like an idiot..." Brian mumbled grumpily.

"He was, but he had a nice ass."

"Wanna see mine?" He asked smiling and Delia had to smile as well. She couldn't deny that he was attractive and she certainly wouldn't have minded meeting him under different circumstances.

"It would only be fair after you've seen me naked, but first I want to understand what's going on," she remarked and nearly hated herself for her seriousness, but first she needed to find out what was going on, before she could enjoy herself.

"Or we move back to bed again, have some fun and then I explain everything to you."

"As long as I am not sure that you are honest and not just waiting to film me when we're having fun to post it on the Internet, I'm not going to. I have been tricked once and that was bad enough," she remarked bitterly.

"Somebody filmed you while you were having sex?" he asked sounding surprised.

Delia had to laugh at his face. "Twice actually. One was for an art project for a friend and the other one was just some douchbag, who thought it was funny. I'll tell you everything about it if you tell me more about being dead."

"I hope you're for real. I've been alone for so long and I really need the company."

"So being alone is your Hell?" She wondered, hoping to divert his and her own attention back to the death and away from his tempting offer.

"Apparently," he answered curtly.

"I would feel pity for you, but I don't fully trust you yet."

"That's probably fair. Well I'm not sure if I can tell you much. Like you I just woke up without any idea what's going on. Everybody had just disappeared and whenever I tried to leave I ended up here again. I bought this house to have some peace, but now it feels more like a prison than anything else. You're the first person I've talked to in ages. Imagine my surprise when I found you in my bathtub. I thought I was hallucinating at first."

Delia couldn't disagree with anything he had said, but neither did it help her find out if he was telling the truth or not. Only one thing had gotten her curious. "What do you mean with you always ended up here again if you try to leave?"

He shrugged. "Just see it for yourself. Go out the front door and try to get away."

Delia narrowed her eyes at his nonchalant tone. Something seemed awfully suspicious about it. "You just let me leave?"

"You'll be back here in no time and it probably helps you believe me."

He was right and Delia had nothing to lose. Without glancing back she left the kitchen and crossed the hall, but stopped before the front door. Delia took a deep breath, before opening the door and stepping through.

The first thing she remarked was the strange quietness. There was no sound and no matter how far she got away from the house there still was no noise. Just nothing. She bid her lip and looked around, but she couldn't see anything that might help her. She walked on until she couldn't anymore.

She was back in the kitchen. Brian was holding a glass of wine and a cigarette, totally unfazed at her sudden appearance, contrary to Delia, who was screaming inside and near another panic attack.

"I told you so," Brian said as soon as Delia had calmed down a bit.

"I- This is impossible..." she stuttered. "How? I was outside only a minute ago!"

"I told you we're dead and that we can't leave. So do you want some wine?"

"It's still early!" Delia exclaimed agitated. "And I can't just sit down, drink and get drunk. I-I don't know. I need to have a clear head ..."

He shrugged. "Your choice and anyway you can't even get drunk here."

"For real?" She asked. Not being able to get drunk or a hangover sounded like the first good news she had heard since she had woken up in his bed.

"No you don't even get the pleasure of feeling numb here..."

Delia ignored his bitter tone. This were definitely the first good news she got today. "And what about high?"

"Doesn't work either. You might feel a little less stressed, but that's it and no everything else doesn't work as well. Trust me I nearly tried everything by now..." He snorted. "You can't even kill yourself to get away. You just wake up and everything is as it was before, but of course if you don't believe me go ahead and try."

Delia didn't want to try.

For a moment she just stood there speechless in the kitchen, trying to get her mind around the fact that this Brian person might be indeed speaking the truth and Delia knew she was about to break down. She didn't want to accept that she had died. Died in her fucking bathtub, because of her own stupidity. It seemed like such a waste. She still had had so many plans and she had thrown them all away in the blink of an eye. Delia wanted to lay down and cry. Cry until she couldn't anymore.

"My offer still stands."

"Which one? To have some wine with you? I told you I can't..." Delia replied bewildered, wiping the tears out of her eyes that were about to spill.

"The other one. It's been a while that I had some company and you look like you could use some as well."

He was right, she really could use some comfort.

Thank you for reading, voting and commenting!

I think there are only 2 chapters and the epilogue left, so I'll try to finish this soon.

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