At Ray's house...
It's not my fault... Those words echoed through my brain, going at a hundred miles an hour. If anybody, it was Mikey's fault right? I mean, he was the one whose hand hit the trigger. But I could have stopped him, held him back. Then Gerard might still be alive. I haven't really slept too well since the accident, but who has? Savannah didn't really notice though, so maybe I am doing a decent job of hiding it. Maybe.
Frankie seemed so happy to see Mikey. It hurt, a lot. I think I might be jealous but still, Mikey even talked to him. I guess I'm just not close enough. But we even went to the same high school! I walked back into the kitchen and sank into one of the hard wood chairs, covering my face with my hands as tears started to roll down my cheeks. I felt like everything I have done, said, or thought for anyone just didn't matter to them. Like if I was an ant. Everyone has seen them and knows they are there but they really aren't acknowledged. For some reason though, I felt ashamed to cry so I wiped my tears away and walked back into the living room where Frankie was now consoling Mikey with Savannah's help.
"Shh, Mikey. It's not your fault. It's okay..." Frankie whispered soothingly in Mikey's ear. It was that kind of attention and validation I longed for when I had guilty thoughts. Savannah came up behind me and slipped her arms around my waist, resting her chin on my shoulder. She kissed my neck gently before walking back over to where Mikey was sitting.
She said something to him about a shower and I couldn't make out the rest of it but she took Mikey's hand and led him upstairs. Within minutes I heard the water start to run and she came back downstairs, sitting on the armchair across from the couch. I walked up behind her and set my hands on the back of the chair, hoping someone would break the awkward silence hanging in the air. Nope, nobody did. So we all sat in silence and mulled over our thoughts. I kept thinking about Bob, I was really worried about his old habits coming back to haunt him. He is going to end up killing himself. The beating of the water eventually halted and we all stood and waited for him to come back down the steps.
Frank and Savannah gasped in shock when they saw him; they had been too focused on how dirty he was to even realize his unbelievably thin figure. I saw it though when I was dragging him out of his room. His clothes hung limply from his frail body and the shirt Savannah had given him of mine was short sleeved so you could see the gouges and scabs on his forearms.
I looked at my hands after realizing I grabbed his cut-up wrists and saw his blood tingeing the color of the skin on my palms.
"Mikey! You look like you haven't eaten in weeks!" Frankie yelled. He was right about that, Mikey still looked horrible even though he took a shower and got cleaned up. Glasses covered his sunken in eyes and his hair was dull and shaggy. He then ran over to Mikey and pulled off his shirt and not to any of our surprises you could see every one of Mikey's ribs. What did come as a shock though were the purple-ish bruises spread across his pallid, disfigured body. Frankie reached out and rubbed the bruises gingerly and Mikey winced at even the slightest gram of pressure.
"What happened?" Savannah asked, still slightly confuse. Mikey glanced around nervously before stuttering out an answer.
"I...um...I fell." He said quickly, searching his mind for an excuse. I could tell he was lying yet the others seemed to find this an acceptable excuse.
"Well, then! Let's get you something to eat" Savannah piped up. Mikey shook his head.
"I am not really that hungry." This time it was Frankie's turn to shake his head before pulling Mikey into the kitchen and making him sit at the table.
"When was the last time you ate?" I asked.
Mikey was about to say something when he collapsed onto the floor, barely any pulse.
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