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Chapter 2- Misery Business



Monday, December 1st, 2008



Pete sat up straight in his bed thinking everything was a dream; it was impossible that he could have a guardian angel, and even if he did, she was doing a fucked up job at keeping him happy. He caught his breath and raised a hand to his chest, coughing slightly. Hemingway walked through his doorway and barked happily before jumping onto the bed and lying down. Before Pete could even acknowledge his dog, however, he looked up to see Misery.

"I thought it was a dream," he admitted. She shook her head, tilting her head to one side.

"Sorry to say it wasn't, Peter," she walked over and sat down on the edge of his bed. Pete skewed his mouth to one side and brought his hands to his lap as Misery scratched Hemingway's head.

"I thought you were an angel," Misery glanced up at Pete and rolled her eyes.

"That doesn't mean I'm going to be a ghost/, Peter," she paused. "I /am dead, but there's a difference if you have to come down to earth," Pete creased his eyebrows together.

"I don't get it," he paused. "What are you doing here?" he asked. Misery shrugged.

"Your heart and mind is unwell," she laughed suddenly. "More than it usually is," Pete shook his head and moved to stand up.

"You don't look a day over eighteen," he paused while pulling on a pair of pants. "How are you supposed to help me?" he asked. Misery sighed.

"That's because I'm not a day over eighteen, and I can help you because I can do this," Pete widened his eyes as she snapped her fingers and he looked down to see something staining his sleeve. He turned his wrist and nearly gagged.

"Is...is that..." Misery giggled almost sadistically and nodded.

"A heart," she paused and poked her finger to his chest. "Your heart," she added. "/My heart is on my sleeve/," she sang. Pete widened his eyes and watched it for a moment as it beat before looking to Misery.

"Make it go away," he muttered quickly. Misery sighed hopelessly and snapped her fingers again, and it disappeared, relaxing Pete even more.

"But /why/?" he asked. Misery looked at him.

"Because you haven't come to terms with what God had planned for you," Pete looked away, his arms crossed.

"I don't believe you," Misery raised her hand again.

"Do you want another lyric to come to life?" she asked. Pete gulped and shook his head.

"No," he whispered. Misery sighed and stood up, wrapping her hand around Pete's wrist and raising it up before taking her finger and magically engraving something on the palm of his hand.

"What are you doing?" he asked. Misery smirked.

"Cursing you for a month," Pete raised an eyebrow.

"What?" he snapped, jerking his hand away. "Why?" he begged. Misery shook her head.

"It's the only way you'll learn your lesson," she crossed her arms. "I'm going to teach you a thing or two about the harsh reality of life and death and trust me/," she crossed her arms and glared. "When we are done, you are going to wish you /never lived in regret," Pete gulped and turned for a moment.

"But what are you going to do?" he asked. Misery took his hands and brought him closer before wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him slightly.

"I'm going to be here for you," she whispered.



Wednesday, December 3rd, 2008



Misery sat on the back of the couch, facing away from the TV and burning her eyes into the blank wall in front of her. Pete sat normally, trying to watch his movies, but kept getting distracted by her just sitting there. He didn't like the awkwardness of his so called /guardian angel/.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, turning and kneeling on the couch, looking over to the wall. Misery hushed him and snapped her fingers and Pete watched in disbelief as their shadows disappeared from the wall and a single one appeared; a side profile of a woman.

"Who is that?" Pete whispered. Misery handed him a pencil and Pete gulped, he already knew this one. He closed his eyes as he neared the wall and felt his hand softly tracing the lines of the curved figure.

"Do you know now, Peter?" she asked softly. Pete stared hopelessly as the shadow disappeared and he closed his eyes; kissing the temple of the outlined woman.

"Jeanae," he whispered against the wall.

"I'm sorry I have to do this to you, Pete," Misery let her emotions get the best of her. "But you have to understand why you are like this before you can accept it," Pete closed his eyes tightly and fell to his knees, looking up at the tracing of a long ago lover.

"I hurt her so much with the words I wrote because of her," Misery gulped, not knowing that her mission was going to be this emotional and dragged out.

"But she stayed by you, Peter," she whispered to reassure him. Pete shook his head solemnly.

"Until Ashlee got in the picture," he mumbled back. Misery stared at his back.

"Did you love her?" she asked next. Pete whipped his head around to look at her.

"What do you mean? Of course I loved Jeanae," he paused. "I still do," he gulped and looked down at his hands. Misery shook her head.

"That's not who I meant," Pete looked up at her with glossy eyes.

"Yeah, I loved Ashlee too," Misery narrowed her eyes for a moment.

"Don't lie to me, Pete," she muttered. Pete glanced up at her.

"What are you talking about?" Misery stood up and watched as he followed suit, already on the defensive.

"Why would you marry somebody you don't even love?" Misery asked firmly. Pete took a shaky breath.

"What do you want me to say?" he raised his arms in the air. "Do you want me to tell you that I did it to make Jeanae jealous!?" Misery widened her eyes and watched as Pete slouched forward and closed his eyes tight. She reached forward and cradled him in her arms again.

"Then why were you upset when you and Ashlee broke up?" Pete cut her off.

"She dumped me," Misery shook her head, pulling away and giving Pete a stern look.

"You two broke up," Pete gulped and nodded and sighed deeply.

"I was upset because...it didn't work," he shook slightly. "Jeanae still hates me," Misery closed her eyes for a brief second and mentally checked one thing. Pete was slowly realizing that it wasn't his entire fault.

"Pete," He pulled away and turned to find the trace of the shadow gone and sighed.

"Why do you have to teach me lessons like this?" he asked. "Isn't this worsening my mental stability?" Misery shook her head.

"It's not, you just are thinking that way," Pete raised an eyebrow.

"Why this way?" he asked curiously. "With my lyrics... are you going to use all my metaphors?" Misery smiled deviously.

"Because they are your words, Peter," she paused. "And there shall be no more metaphors when my misery business is finished,"