Rough Marginal Outline

Camping
Small junk bed by the trailor
Too many people show up
Quarrel breaks out amongst foxtrot and some mexican guy with a street nickname.
The boys and I get rid of him and his friends.
I go to bed on the spring mattress by the fire and wake up to problems.
Then, walking pass me was the mexican, saw me to his left and shot me in the forehead.
Hours go by and I'm still in shock, knowing that I'm dead but not feeling a single sting.
My forehead starts healing.
Policeman comes into the scene at dusk and looks shocked.
I walk past the cop to grab a beer. He's staring at the mattress with all the blood and brains, my corpse.
Next thing I remember is being in the restaurant with everyone, but only a couple people could see me and one or two could only hear me.
I shook hands and started to write on the wall.
Then I remembered being with Laura and Carson was trying to help her grieve.
She was going into the room with him when I pulled her away from the doorway and she felt me.
She screamed "Get out of my house. You don't live here." To me, wondering which ghost I was.
Wither I was the ghost that haunted her as a child or me, the ghost that haunts today.