Chapter 17: Revenge of the Doormat

Lulu leaned forward, watching Amelia carefully. The ghost seemed hesitant, biting her lower lip like she was debating whether to even speak.

Lulu's stomach dropped.

'Oh god, what is it? Does she need me to chase down her murderer? Break into a crime syndicate?' Lulu's mind raced, each thought worse than the last. But if it was either of those, she was definitely increasing her fee. Ten thousand wasn't quite enough for Lulu to risk her life.

Finally, Amelia took a deep breath and said, "Okay, so… Right before I died, I was planning to turn my life around."

Lulu blinked. "...What kind of turn? Like getting rid of a bad influence in your life? Or suddenly switching careers to your dream job?"

Amelia winced. "A little bit of both…?"

Lulu gave her a flat look. "Be specific."

Amelia sighed and fiddled with the edge of her translucent sleeve. "I was going to cut off all the toxic people in my life. You know, all the ones who used me, manipulated me, treated me like garbage—but I never actually did it. Then I was going to live as I wanted—the life I dreamed of—but had been unable to due to their discouragement."

She frowned, eyes burning with frustration. "Now I'm dead, and since I've come to terms with that, I went to see them, only to see that they're out there acting like they loved me so much. Crying about me. Posting long, dramatic messages about how much they 'miss me' and how I was 'such a light in their life.' But they still act like the same shitty people in private."

Lulu squinted. "Let me guess… you wouldn't consider yourself a 'light in their life'?"

Amelia let out a dry, bitter laugh. "Sure, I was! I was the light they always used to highlight themselves while treating me like shit. I was like the doormat they wiped their dirty shoes on."

"I'm serious!" Amelia huffed as she continued without break, it seems like once the floodgates opened, they wouldn't close easily, "These people treated me like crap when I was alive, and now they're gaining sympathy points off my death! Some of them are even getting free coffees over this."

Lulu tilted her head. "Free coffees?"

"Yeah! Like, 'Oh no, I'm grieving, I can't possibly pay for my own latte, the pain is too much!'" Amelia's voice dripped with sarcasm. "And someone—probably a customer behind them who has actual empathy—just decides to treat them because they feel bad."

Lulu took a slow sip of her tea, watching Amelia rant with growing amusement.

"I mean, I get it," Amelia continued, waving her hands. "Mourning is complicated and people process grief in different ways, blah blah blah, but these people do not deserve free beverages in my name!"

Lulu set her mug down and steepled her fingers. "Okay. So… what do you want me to do about it?"

Amelia met her gaze, eyes sharp with purpose. Determined. Fierce.

"I want you to speak at my funeral," she said.

Lulu choked on her tea.

Amelia didn't even blink. "I want you to go up there, take the mic, and tell everyone exactly what I think of them."

Lulu was still coughing.

"Expose the fake friends, call out the toxic exes, let my family know that I was onto their bullshit." Amelia's voice grew more passionate with every word. "I want gasps. I want someone to storm out in tears. I want dramatic fainting spells! I want at least three people to fight in the parking lot."

Lulu finally got control of her lungs and stared.

Amelia looked completely serious.

"…You," Lulu said slowly, "want me, a random stranger, to stand up at your funeral and start shit with your grieving friends and family?"

"Yes."

Lulu let out a slow breath. "Amelia."

"Yes?"

"Are you aware of how absolutely insane that sounds?"

Amelia shrugged. "Eh. It's not the weirdest request I've made."

Lulu pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh my god."

"Look. I. WILL. PAY," Amelia said, leaning in, "Extra, if that's what it takes. And it's not just about pettiness. It's about justice. These people are rewriting my story, pretending they were great friends, partners, colleagues, relatives when they weren't. They're getting attention, sympathy, clout, and they don't deserve it."

Lulu eyed her warily. "...And you want me to be the one to drop this truth bomb."

"Yes." Amelia clasped her hands together. "Please."

Lulu sighed. She should say no. She should tell Amelia that funerals are not the place for public call-outs.

She should walk away from this situation and not insert herself into a posthumous revenge scheme.

But then she remembered:

Amelia had mentioned a price. A high price. One that was open to going up… She exhaled, giving the ghost across from her a long, measured look.

Then, with all the professionalism of someone pretending to be normal while making insane choices, she nodded.

"…So how are you planning to pay? I only accept cash."

Amelia: "I have my ways."