NightCurse

En La Isla

I woke up to the screaming of Gerard and Mikey as they fought furiously in the airplane aisle. Mikey screamed some nasty profanities at Gerard as Gerard tried to clean up a few glasses Mikey had thrown on the filthy ground. What the heck is going on? I thought to myself as I watched the fight in a groggy half-daze.

Mikey suddenly pinned Gerard to the door of the bathroom. “Why the fuck are you always in everyone’s business?” growled Mikey furiously at his shaking brother, “Can’t you just leave everyone alone for once? Ever think we don’t want your help?” He then shoved Gerard in a seat across the aisle. Gerard knew better than to react when Mikey was angry; Mikey would just do something twenty times worse. Instead, he just lied there, until Mikey walked away into another compartment.

I then walked over to him and pulled him upward. He adjusted himself, and when he seemed comfortable, I asked him, “What was that all about?”

“I have no idea,” Gerard answered, “He seemed rather depressed, so I asked him what was wrong. That is when he picked a fight with me.” That’s when Gerard twitched his head for a half a millisecond, and I suddenly noticed a bruise on Gerard’s temple. I could tell it was horrifically painful, and I wonder how hard he had to be hit to receive that bruise.

“He’s been on edge since last night,” I told him, even though he probably knew so himself, “I thought he was going to kill someone or something.” For a second, images of him last night with that vicious look on his face flashed through my head.

“Yeah, I know. He does get like this every once in a while, but not this bad. I’m a bit worried about him.”

“I’m a little bit worried, too.” Really, I wasn’t worried about it, until he mentioned how he was worried. It just suddenly made sense to me to feel worried after he’d said it.

“I wonder what’s wrong with him. I hope he’s alright!”

“Me, too.”

That’s when Frank busted into the compartment with a single coffee. “Man, is Mikey mad!”

“What happened?” asked Gerard in concern of Frank’s welfare as well as his brother’s.

“He didn’t seem so happy, so I asked him what was wrong,” explained Frank,” That’s when he suddenly tried to punch me in the head! I was going to get us all some coffee, but I had to leave the rest behind, so I could run from Mikey. He’s like a bull!”

“Ugh, yeah. I just hope that he doesn’t keep this up for the entire vacation,” said Gerard, “And I hope he’s alright. I’d ask him, but if I did, he’d kill me, maybe literally.”

“I’m staying away from him for a while,” announced Frank, “I wish I could help him, but I’m not risking my life for it!”

“Same here.”

Without warning, Mikey stealthily came through the doors with the coffees Frank had left behind when he ran from him. He threw them in our hands and sat in a seat a few rows back silently. We knew better than to say a word to him; it wouldn’t end so well. He obviously wished to be by himself, anyways, sipping his coffee away from all of us.

There was then an awkward silence, and I broke it by asking, “Where is the rest of the band?”

“Ray found this very attractive girl. Her name is Christina or something like that,” answered Gerard, “And Bob is hanging out with The Used.”

“The Used?” I had no idea what The Used was. Were they another band or something?

“The band Bert is in.”

“Oh!” I had no idea that guy was even in a band!
----
Two more hours had past, and Mikey seemed to be getting much worse as we inched closer and closer to the island. Suddenly, he’d begun beating up his seat and then fled the compartment.

I began to not feel so well myself. I felt rather nauseous, and I was sweating like a pig. My heartbeat also fastened significantly, and I thought for sure I was about to have a heart attack. I swear, I would’ve puked right there and then if it hadn’t been for the mints I had in my back pocket. I’d forgotten that Gerard had stuck them in there before we even left. I sucked on them for the rest of the way there.

When we were ten minutes from the island, I started to feel an unexplainably ominous vibe from it. Something just wasn’t right; it was creepily sinister. It felt completely forbidding, but I ignored that sense of it. My heart rate increased even more, and I was sure I was going to have a heart attack right then. However, I was fine, or at least I thought I was. My chest did feel an insignificant amount of pain, but it was nothing, at least in my opinion.

We arrived to the island’s airport at 3:35 P.M. that afternoon. At home, it was only 2:25, but the island was a timezone ahead from our home. At the airport, the first thing we had to do before we even got off the plane was show our passports.

The first place we went was a restaurant called, “Los Tres Gatos.” Apparently, they spoke Spanish on the island, or at least that’s what it seemed from the name. What a unique name… What was the island called, anyways? I made a mental note to myself to find out as soon as possible.

Los Tres Gatos was a small, quaint, house-like restaurant with about just twenty tables and a gigantic salad bar on the right side about ten feet from the rest rooms. My stomach grumbled as we were placed in our seats at a red oak, shiny table with matching chairs. The walls were a crimson color. I paid no attention to the ceiling at all, but I think it might’ve been brown. I’m not completely sure. I do, however, remember the carpet color; it was a crimson color darker than the walls and was quite plush under your feet. The lighting in the restaurant was only minimal.

The waitress, whose name was named Lenora, had almost-black hair and about two tons of make-up. Her lips were an unnaturally bright red, and she definitely packed the foundation on. Her skin was a copper color, and she wore a fine, gold chain with a cross on her neck and a deep red dress. This dressed exposed little too much skin for my taste, but of course I couldn’t stand much skin showing at all compared to today’s people.

She swiftly handed us some menus, and I began reading mine in an instant. “I’ll be back in ten to take your order,” she told us in a heavy Spanish accent. She then walked away to tend to someone else. I stared at the menu. I could’ve either had fries, grilled cheese, fettuccine alfredo, or some salad from the salad bar. That’s when I began to think of what Jackson had told me. ” Tonight was great and all, but you’re, uhh, a bit on the fat side. You need to lose some weight!” Ugh, I guess he was right; I did need to lose weight, or at least that’s how I felt now. I decided to get some salad from that salad bar.

When the food was ordered, and the menus were handed in, Gerard asked, “Why only a salad? I thought you’d be much hungrier than that!”

“Me? Nah,” I lied as I heard a ginormous grumble from my stomach. I then clutched my stomach, but I realized that Gerard knew I was lying. He just watched me carefully for a few minutes and then turned his back to talk to a random fangirl from another table across from us.

Mikey appeared to be sulking as he played a bit with his fork. Something just wasn’t right for him. He reminded me of a dying dog or something that instant. There was just something changed in him that I couldn’t comprehend, and it irked me quite badly.

“Well, I’m gonna go get my salad,” I announced to the others as I snatched up my plate and dashed in immense hunger for the salad bar. The salad bar was GIGANTIC! Honestly, I couldn’t even see half of it from the table! The magnificent salad bar had to be, at the very least ten yards long, and it was decorated in real fruits like grapes and wild strawberries—a vegetarian’s delight!

The first thing I did was jam up my plate with tons of romaine lettuce and then threw a few croutons on that. I then threw on some cucumbers, almonds, and, oddly, pineapple. After that, I spotted some exotic vegetables and also included them. Suddenly, however, my stomach made a low, growling sound, kind of like a cheetah. I was absolutely starving! When was the last time I had eaten, anyways? I wouldn’t dare eat any of that plane junk food; last time I did, I was in bed for a week.

I decided to throw some extra croutons on my plate, and then I began walking back to the table. However, as I stared at the gigantic mountains of food that were on the bar, the hungrier I had become. I debated to myself on just dropping my plate and stuffing my face right then and there, but I knew that people would judge me negatively if I were to decide to do that. However, the urge was rather compulsive and almost controlling.

Without even realizing it, my plate shattered on the floor, and I was gulping down mouthful and mouthfuls of a vast assortment of fruits, vegetables, and much more. I just couldn’t stop myself. Every trivial amount of self-control I had had diminished, and I’d become a human pig.
That’s when I heard footsteps creeping toward the salad bar. Without even thinking, I left the mess where it was and darted for the bathroom. The bathroom was absolutely spotless; I really wouldn’t be so surprised if they had remolded it just a week ago! The walls were painted a citrusy yellow color, and the stalls were a red-orange. The glorious sinks were shinier than diamonds, and the counters were made of a large sheet of almost-black granite. Between the five sinks were magnificent flower vases of warm-colored flowers, some including magnolias, sunflowers, poppies, orchids, and about twenty others that I had no idea of the name of them. This bathroom surely wasn’t anything short of amazing.

My stomach felt like it was being weighed down by a huge boulder due to how much I had just consumed. I then suddenly remembered why I had eaten at the salad bar in the first place—Jackson. The words he’s said to me rang through my head for a full minute and sank into my heart. I’d always felt at least a little bit fat every once in a while but not like this. This was insane, maybe literally. However, I didn’t care. Even if I weren’t fat, which I was actually unsure if I really were or not, I still need approval from Jackson, even though, at the moment, we were a half a thousand miles away, and I was on a foreign island that I didn’t even know the name of.

Anyways, what would I do if I had already eaten the food? Wasn’t there anything at all, since it had already been on its way through my digestive system? I began thinking but came up with not a single solution to my problem except to just forget about it and get on with my life by eating much less than I had six minutes ago. I decided to instead use the bathroom, because I really had to go, now that I realized it.

The downside to this fancy bathroom was the freezing toilet seats. Though they were excessively shiny and clean-looking, it’d be better if they were warmer. They were also uncomfortably hard, which made me feel quite uncomfortable. I’d have to deal with it, however, if I wanted to get out of there.

An idea then suddenly popped into my head to get rid of the food; I could puke it out! Yes, it was the perfect idea. It was only once, so how much harm could it do? Sure, Gerard would kill me if he knew I was about to do this, but he didn’t, did he? I took a final minute pause for five seconds mulled it over in my head, and that was it…

---
Two hours later, we were in the hotel suite. This had to be the most luxurious hotel suite I’d ever seen in my life. The wall’s paint had to contain diamonds, and there was a large chandelier in the kitchen made of pure crystal. Gerard and I shared this suite, and the rest of the band members had their own individual rooms. Frank had been off somewhere with Roxie, so Gerard and I would have time to unpack our bags. How nice of him, even though he had his own bags to unpack. Maybe it had to do with his dog obsessed. Probably.

As soon as I stepped foot into the suite, I lied on a bed next to the window and daydreamed about randomness. One of the most focal people I daydreamed about was Jackson. I daydreamed about him taking me all over the world and then being in bed with him just lying there as he talked to me and told me how beautiful and skinny I was. I yawned a bit but continued my daydreams of his beautiful face and luscious body. Then, in the daydream about us lying in bed, we started to do other things. Honestly, I felt a bit aroused and had almost begun moaning at one point. My fantasies had become so realistic that I forgot I was in the real world lying on a bed. They were just beautiful…

Suddenly, I felt Gerard nudge me a bit, and I jumped. He had my bag in one hand and his cell in the other. He dropped it on the ground and walked away without a word.

What the…? I then noticed Gerard place his phone on the coffee table out of the diminutive corner of my eye and suddenly got this crazy idea. I could text Jackson using Gerard’s phone while he was away and delete all the messages after I was done. I turned my eyeball a bit and noticed that Gerard had left the room. I heaved myself out of the comfy, plush bed and trudged into the main part of the suite.

Apparently, Gerard had been texting Mikey. I felt like I was invaded his privacy, but really, I couldn’t help but give into the risky temptation of reading through at least a few of his messages.

A bit of the conversation went like this:

Mikey: I seriously feel like I’m going to die.
Gerard: What? Why?
Mikey: I feel so goddamn depressed and I don’t even know why!
Gerard: To tell you the truth I feel depressed too.
Mikey: I just feel like cutting the veins out of my arms and jumping off a building. Its horrible.
Gerard: Wow. Sure you don’t need to check into the hospital?
Mikey: No way Gerard! No!

I stopped there, because I then heard Gerard trying to unlock the door. I threw the cell phone down and ran to my bag of clothes and pretended like I’d been unpacking all the while.

Gerard then walked over in a half-dazed manner and asked, “Did you touch my phone?”

“No,” I lied, but I was sure the truth had shown through the look on my face.

“Okay.” He then trudged into the bathroom. He surely didn’t look that great. He actually looked quite ill and fatigued. I heard him coughing up some nasty phlegm in the bathroom and decided to tune myself out from him for that moment…

I then got up and snatched up his phone once again, this time promising myself I wouldn’t read any of Gerard’s texts. At first, I struggled with typing anything on the phone but soon got the hang of it. First, I wrote to Jackson, “Hey, are you alright?” and then I put in his number and pressed the lighted, squishy green “send” button. That’s when I heard something smash in the floor in the bathroom. Oh God. What’s going on with Gerard?

“Gerard, are you okay?” I asked him in quite a worried voice.

I heard him picking up the thing that must’ve smashed in the bathroom. It took him at least ten seconds, but he finally said, “Yeah, I’m fine,” in quite a strained voice. I wasn’t quite sure to believe him. He probably would never tell me if he were injured because he’d be so worried about me being worried about him. That’s how Gerard was—always worried about everyone else. I almost got up to go check on him without thinking much but then finally realized that’ be quite foolish of me. I instead just lied back on the couch and messed around with Gerard’s phone.

That’s when the phone began to make a ringing sound, but it was merely a text message from Mikey. I hesitated for a bit but then decided to take a look at it, even though it was definitely not any of my business what he said to Gerard. In his text message, he seemed rather troubled. It read, “Gerard, I need you. I feel so horrible. I feel like I’m suffocating in my own grief. “

Like a bullet, a chill shot down my spine suddenly for no apparent reason and stuck there. Something definitely did not feel right. Involuntarily, my hand just lost grip of the cell phone, and it fell straight to the ground face-down. The chill then intensified, and I felt paralyzed in fear without reason. The lamp next to the couch began to flicker a bit and turned off but was on in a half of a second. I glanced around without turning my head the least and felt another chill shoot straight down my spine on top of the first one. Then, the lamp shut right off, and the room was rather dark.

Suddenly, I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye, so I glanced to the right. A small midnight-black dog, who was apparently a Schipperke with horrendously matted fur, hostilely bared his fangs at me furiously. The dog had a scar directly above his right eye, butter-yellow teeth, and its blood-red eyes shined brilliantly despite the darkness of the room. After a few nasty barks, it then lunged at me, and I shut my eyes instantly.

It was gone, and the lamp had turned itself back on. Was I going insane, or did that really happen? I then looked down at my feet and noticed Gerard’s cell phone on my right toes. It was still on Mikey’s troubled message. Before I could scoop it up, however, Gerard, who had an absolutely drained expression on his unshaved face, dragged himself out of the bathroom and was suddenly facing me. I stared at him for a few seconds before he peered down at my feet and noticed the cell phone.

“What were you doing with my cell phone?” he asked in a rather annoyed manner, “And why is it on the ground?”

“Uhh,” I barely murmured, “I accidentally dropped it.”

“But what were you doing with it?”

“I was going to text Jackson back and then—“I stopped in midsentence as I was about to tell him about what happened, but I knew he wouldn’t believe me. He might even send me to the hospital to get my head checked.

“And THEN?” He was livid. I swear if he were the malicious type, I’d be dead right then! He looked like a starved coyote, and I was the tiny pup who’d stolen his huge meal. I’ve only seen him that angry once or twice in my life. He gripped onto his phone with absolute enmity, and he looked as if he were about to sprout fangs as he gave me a vicious snarl.

“You’re not going to believe me, but I saw this small black dog and it almost attacked me! It looked so evil and loathing, and it jumped at me! When I opened my eyes, it was gone, though! Well, first I got a chill, and then the lamp began to flicked and shut off. I swear!”

“That is the WORST story I’ve heard IN MY LIFE! And I’ve heard tons! GOD!” His anger prevented him from speaking any longer. Instead, he threw his cell phone at the wall, and it shattered into at least a hundred pieces. “WHAT A STUPID, IMMATURE GIRL YOU ARE! I AM NOT FUCKIN’ STUPID LIKE YOU THINK I AM---“

Before he could finish the rant, however, Mikey burst into the room with at least five long cuts on each of his forearms; some of them still bled, and they appeared to be rather deep. Instantly, he was on his knees wailing, his face shoved against his legs.
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Sorry for not updating in months; I've been so busy with school and a ton of other crap. Hope this lengthy chapter makes up for it.

Tomorrow is the story's birthday! Wish it a happy birthday! :)

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