a surprise visitor?
Staring back at me was the reflection of a depressed man, covered in scabbed over cuts and faded bruises. For a moment, I couldn't believe I was looking at myself. I used to be so happy, but now living just seems all the more a waste of death. I couldn't bring myself to go into the room Ana had at my house, though I knew I had to eventually. Now just wasn't the time.
When the reflection started to get foggy, I turned off the water and continued to take off my clothes until all that I had left wad my cast. Making sure not to get it wet, I sank into the steamy water and began to think. It was quiet and I was alone, the perfect time to figure out exactly what I was going to do from here on out.
I couldn't keep making unsuccessful attempts at suicide; they have done me more harm than good. I stopped for a second on that thought, realizing how ridiculous it sounded that I was saying that suicide should have done me good. It was weird to think back at all the demented thoughts, but for some reason they always came back to me, taunting me and teasing me with ideas that I could still be with Ana.
I quickly washed my hair and body, getting out quickly and trying to focus on things seeming less mind-numbingly horrifying. I walked out of my bathroom with nothing but a towel around my waist and made my way into my room, stopping when I saw who was inside.
Kris was sitting on my bed, thumbing absent-mindedly through one of my many sketch books and humming a random tune. She looked up upon hearing the door creak and dropped the book in surprise when she saw me.
"Um-I just wanted to say I'm sorry about...well, telling you...that um...," she couldn't seem to finish the sentence. I knew what she was talking about though; I just didn't want to bring it up an hour and a half before I was supposed to mourn Ana's death. It was just too unnerving to do.
"I really don't want to talk about this now," I said, grabbing my clothes quickly and walking into my now less steamy bathroom and trying to change my clothes without her presence. Just seconds after I pulled on my pants, I heard banging at the door. Before I had time to answer, the door swung open and Kris walked in, looking worried.
"You can't just not talk about it,' she warned me. I looked at her and cocked an eyebrow as if to ask 'why not?' as I pulled on my shirt. She shook her head and sighed in annoyance before continuing.
"I know that you are having a hard time, Gerard, but aren't we all? We need to talk about this, or we'll never be able to. I have to go back to California at some point!" she argued, and I shook my head and turned my attention to buttoning up my shirt. She huffed, realizing finally that I was ignoring her for the sake of my eyes, I have cried enough already. So she stormed out and I assumed went to wherever she was staying to get ready for the funeral.
I turned and looked in the mirror, frowning at what I saw. It was me, but again, not the me that used to be, though. I was someone else. I was someone with bags under my eyes from lack of sleep and nightmares, someone with cuts and bruises from trying to kill myself. I was someone with a more upsetting view on life, someone who seemed to be ripping at the seems and generally just falling apart.
I knew that I was the best I was going to get, so I finished getting ready and walked out the door. When I got outside, Bob, Ray, and Frankie were all in the car waiting for me. I opened the door and slid into the backseat. This had to be one of the hardest days of my life, I knew it. I guess all the guys did too because they all looked at me with compassion before Bob pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the cemetery.
"You okay, man?" Ray asked, looking at my solemn expression. I nodded but he could tell I was lying. They could always tell if I was lying.
I'm not okay. I promise.
Two more chapters left! OHEMEGEE! Review and I'll post one more tonight, okay? Waiting until tomorrow to post the final chapter. Are you ready?