Mikey stumbles into an old acquaintance
Unbeknownst to Mikey, an unidentified man was casually but stealthily slinking his way over to him. A hand grabbed at his shoulder and spun him around, interrupting his recollections and leaving him dazed as to what was happening.
“Hello Michael, remember me?”
the acidic voice pierced into his ears and made Mikey’s hands fly up to block out the excruciating pain that drilled into his skull.
The air was unnervingly still, but so alarmingly thick that Mikey was beginning to have difficulty breathing properly as he writhed in agony from the blood now dripping out his auricles from the jagged broken up noise it was collecting.
“I saved you once, do you remember? Of course not, you didn’t care that I stopped you from suicide.
"Pitiful little Michael, never thinking to say thank you, did you not think that your family would’ve wanted you to live for them? Or maybe that you didn’t deserve to be alive when they weren’t?
"Your brother is crying for you, your parents are disappointed in you, you’re a failure Michael, and you know it’s not a lie.”
By now Mickey was practically shrieking from the pain his insides were feeling and he was close to throwing up and passing out.
No words could describe what his ears felt like at this point but imagine having thick nails slowly hammered in through your ear holes and then bent sideways, Mikey wished for the relief of that.
“It’s such a shame you wasted your pathetic existence on doing this, mourning. They don’t care about your prayers and your pleas Michael; they prefer being relieved of your irritating presence.”
Although the physical pain was only just tolerable, the mental and emotional load he had carried as a burden digging into the flesh of his heart all these years just seemed to multiply and accumulate.
Unbearable guilt stabbed his chest and drew liquid hurt from its wounds.
The voice that caused all this had inhuman qualities to it, wasn’t quite a robotic voice but more of a bird like pitch. And even then it wasn’t the voice alone causing Mikey all the writhing agony he was experiencing, rather something in his voice that manipulated the air around him and made him feel like he was choking.
This medium build ‘male’ was so wrapped up in inflicting torture on the already broken boy that he failed to notice two men driving up to them in a startlingly pristine white van, unnamed of course.
It didn’t come to Mikey’s attention either until one of said men brought an almond coloured rag to the foul mouthed tormentor’s face.
Chloroform, Mikey suspected as the boy who must have been about a year senior fell limply into the slightly older man’s black hoodie clad arms.
“Are you Mikey Way?”
Mikey nodded dumbly, the pain suddenly elevated immensely, but the emotional trauma still haunting him.
“My name is Bob; you might’ve talked to my friend Ray. It’s not safe now for you to be here, there might be more of those fucking hell princes.
"You’ll get another note today saying where and when you’ll meet us tomorrow okay? Good. Go home, you need some rest after this asshole tried to move onto you from Bert.”
Mikey was vaguely aware of the walk back to his house and that his adoptive parents were not home, he also dimly remembered going straight to bed to have a long nap.
When he awoke at 7:49pm from hunger, there were two envelopes this time.
Mikey opted to opening the one on his chest rather than the one on the messy carpet.
Go to Canterbury Park, tomorrow at 3pm. Don’t let anyone, and I mean ANYONE know. –Bob.
The second one was unlike all the others he had received; it was in a dark brown, smaller envelope instead of the usual manila.
Mikey’s curiosity got the better of him and he reached over to pick it up and open it.
Your brother is alive –F.