FicWad

A week has passed and I still can’t get the image from my head. It’s not just the thoughts of the red headed ghoul that paid me a visit but also of the legacy that it left in my brain. The ghastly images it imprinted there.

Standing by a payphone, I rest my head against it, eyes closed. In the distance, in my ear, I can hear faint music. The sound of being on hold muttering away.

“Mr. Isbell?” a voice finally says.

“Yeah?” I reply, lifting my head, momentarily forgetting that they can’t see me.

“Mr. Isbell, we’ve checked the records for both Mr. Rose and Mr. Bailey.” There’s a quiet sigh. “I don’t know how to tell you this but…”

I feel a lump in my throat growing, heart pounding as I dread what I’ll hear next.

“Mr. Isbell…” the voice quietly says. “We have no records for either a Mr. Axl Rose nor for a Mr. William Bailey.”

“But…” I begin. “But that was the hospital he was admitted to…”

Wasn’t it? I look at the wall opposite the payphone, brain running at a million miles an hour, trying to remember.

“This is the university hospital?” I ask quietly.

“Indeed it is but, like I’ve said, we have no record of this man. In fact, no one can remember such a person even being admitted. Sir, I hate to say this, but perhaps you’re imagining it asll?”

My head falls back against the phone and I let out a quiet sigh. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

Quietly I hang up the phone, the receiver clicking against the cradle and coins clunking as they fall deep into the phone. Sliding to the dusty pavement, I look at my hands, ignoring the people that walk past. What happened? What the hell has happened? Am I going mad? Am I following Axl in his footsteps? I remember pushing him down the stairs. I remember calling the ambulance. I remember him being taken away. It all feels like so long ago yet there is no record. It’s as if he’s… vanished. Disappeared from the face of the earth.

Vanished…

I stare at the floor, nails idly scratching in the dirt. Maybe Axl never really existed. Maybe he was a figment of my imagination. But how can I explain my mother seeing him? How can I explain Slash seeing him? Unless that’s all been in my mind as well.

The sun beats down on me but I don’t feel it, my body instead covered in goosebumps of fear. Shivering, I hug my knees, peering over the top of my torn jeans. People come and go, ignoring me, probably taking me for just another hobo. Blurs of colour pass my eyes, nothing making sense any more.

“Izz,” a quiet voice pierces my messy thoughts and I look up.

Slash stands over me, concern filled eyes just visible through his hair. I shake and sniff as he crouches beside me.

“Izz.” A hand gently rests on my shoulder, my body automatically flinching.

Slash bites his lips, looking unsure of what to say.

“Slash,” I whisper, trying to work out whether he’s real or not.

He looks real and I stretch out a hand to stroke his hair. He’s … beautiful, all dark hair and shadows, never always completely there but always only a few feet behind me, tracking me.

“Slash,” I quietly repeat. “Slash, the hospital…” My voice trails off as I close my eyes, trying to get my voice to work. “The hospital have no record of him. No record of Axl.”

As Slash processes it, I open my eyes and look at him, worried that he’ll think I’m mad. So what if he does? I’ll just pick myself up and move onto wherever. Maybe I’ll head back to Indiana, see if my family are real. And if they’re there then I’ll settle back in and forget about all of this. I’ll forget about the abuse and the blood and the pain. I’ll forget about the excitement and the fun. I’ll forget about Slash…

“What?” he quietly asks, teeth digging deeper into his lip. “Izz, are you sure?”

I nod, feeling my eyes begin to fill with tears. “They don’t know who he is. They spoke to the ambulance crew; even they don’t remember him. It’s as if he’s…”

“…evaporated,” Slash finishes my sentence, eyes dark with bafflement.

Biting my own lips, I nod. “I’m not mad,” I begin to plead. “Really, I’m not. I’m not imagining this. Honestly Slash.”

His arms drape around my shoulders, pulling me close as he purrs and whispers, “I know. I know you’re not. Is there anyone else you can call?”

For once, Slash seems to be thinking rationally. He feels around in his pocket and a handful of change is deposited into mine. “Call his folks.”

My heart drops and I nod. It’s years since I’ve spoken to his family but I remember them well. I remember them beating and raping Bill. I remember his father taking his belt to both of us after catching us in the bushes. We paid a painful price for a stolen kiss but all the hate and anger had only pushed us closer together. Unfortunately, as we’d grown older, Bill had begun to mirror his father.

Shaking, I get to my feet and lean against the phone. Picking up the receiver again, I feed money into the phone, listening to the metallic sound of it dropping. Slowly, I dial the number I thought I’d forgotten. Clicks and hums and finally its ringing. My knees buckle and I hold myself upright, praying that no one answers.

But they do. “Bailey residence.”

I let out a little whimper as I recognise his step father’s voice. “M-Mr Bailey?”

“Yes?” the other voice demands.

“Mr. Bailey, it’s Jeffrey. I’m s-sorry to be calling…”

I can almost see his face as he sneers, “Jeffrey Dean Isbell. I’ve been waitin’ for you to call, boy.”

Tears spring to my eyes and I slump forwards.

“I had a letter today, Jeffrey. A letter from God only knows where. Bill’s dead, isn’t he Jeffrey? Bill’s dead and you killed him, didn’t you Jeffrey?”

I shake my head, that voice able to reduce me to tears in a matter of seconds. “No… No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did,” that voice growls, making me wince. “You killed him but it seems there’s no proof is there, Jeffrey? No proof because his body’s disappeared! Where’s it gone, Jeffrey?”

“I-I don’t k-know…” I stutter. “I don’t know…”

“No,” the voice sneers. “Course you don’t know. ‘Cause you never know anything, do you Jeffrey. All you did was fuck my boy. It’s all your fault he disappeared. An’ it’s your fault he’s dead.”

Sobbing, I drop the phone and slide to the floor. I turn my eyes up to Slash, brushing away the tears.

“He is d-dead…” I whisper. “B-But his body’s disappeared.”