Keep the Faith
Where Did He Go?
He rests his back against the bathtub, his head heavy with thoughts. How did it ever get this far? How did he get so hated in such a little time?
He knocked back the second bottle of Vodka as if it were water and thought nothing of it.
“To me,” He raised the glass as if to make a toast to a congregation. The fans, the family and friends.”To you.”
He sunk the bottle of Vodka in one gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his crystal, white shirt. He wasn’t that startled to see a spreading patch of blood on his cuff. Standing up, he steadied himself on the bathroom sink and stared into the medicine cabinets mirror.
The pale reflection stared back at him. The eyes, full of bitter and hate. The lips that were chapped and bitten. His hair was graying and as fragile as a newborn. He ran his hand through it, taking out numerous strands between his fingers. He can’t take much more; he’s had enough. He grits his teeth at the sight of the face in front of him and tears the door from it’s hinges.
The cabinet was a world of clear bottles and labels: a pills galore. He took out the three that were closest to him and tore the small, white lids off. Tipping the small pills into the sink, not bothering to count, some fell down the drain. He took a handful and swallowed them one by one, dedicating them to a reason.
He ran out of pills, but not reasons. Taking another handful from the sink he began to feel drowsy.
“Just a few more, Gerard,” He told himself, gulping down two at a time now.
“To greed.”
“To envy.”
The pills began to vanish as he sank lower and lower into the tiled floor. He heard the distorted bangs on the door. They began to get louder and more frequent as time passed.
“Gerard?” Mikey called. “Gerard, please, open this door.”
His brother, Gerard, being the noble and decent person he was, didn’t want to let Mikey see him in such a state. Not after everything he did to help the last time.
“Gerard! Please, open this door!” Mikey begged and pleaded, yet his brother didn’t move from the spot he was sitting in. He began to lie down, his mind heavier than when he started.
His alcohol had run out and he was left alone with his thoughts.
“Why?” He whispered to himself, tears beginning to soak the cheek that rested against the floor. The banging on the door had stopped, the last person in the world that he cared for had stopped caring for him.
He became overwhelmed with sickness and so he slumped himself over the toilet bowl, throwing up violently. He didn’t want to throw up. He had taken so many pills that he didn’t want to do it again.
Suddenly, he lost his breath. He felt as if he was drowning, but without the water. He slipped down onto his back and closed his eyes. Sweet eternity.
“Gerard!” Mikey burst through the broken door seconds later. He was too late. Gerard had already gone. He fell to his knees and embraced his Brother’s broken, defeated body.
“Why, why, why?!” He screamed through sobs as he pounded his dead Brother’s chest in anger. He looked up and saw a crumpled piece of paper.
“Where did all of the Heroes go?” He whispered into Gerard’s ear.
He knocked back the second bottle of Vodka as if it were water and thought nothing of it.
“To me,” He raised the glass as if to make a toast to a congregation. The fans, the family and friends.”To you.”
He sunk the bottle of Vodka in one gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his crystal, white shirt. He wasn’t that startled to see a spreading patch of blood on his cuff. Standing up, he steadied himself on the bathroom sink and stared into the medicine cabinets mirror.
The pale reflection stared back at him. The eyes, full of bitter and hate. The lips that were chapped and bitten. His hair was graying and as fragile as a newborn. He ran his hand through it, taking out numerous strands between his fingers. He can’t take much more; he’s had enough. He grits his teeth at the sight of the face in front of him and tears the door from it’s hinges.
The cabinet was a world of clear bottles and labels: a pills galore. He took out the three that were closest to him and tore the small, white lids off. Tipping the small pills into the sink, not bothering to count, some fell down the drain. He took a handful and swallowed them one by one, dedicating them to a reason.
He ran out of pills, but not reasons. Taking another handful from the sink he began to feel drowsy.
“Just a few more, Gerard,” He told himself, gulping down two at a time now.
“To greed.”
“To envy.”
The pills began to vanish as he sank lower and lower into the tiled floor. He heard the distorted bangs on the door. They began to get louder and more frequent as time passed.
“Gerard?” Mikey called. “Gerard, please, open this door.”
His brother, Gerard, being the noble and decent person he was, didn’t want to let Mikey see him in such a state. Not after everything he did to help the last time.
“Gerard! Please, open this door!” Mikey begged and pleaded, yet his brother didn’t move from the spot he was sitting in. He began to lie down, his mind heavier than when he started.
His alcohol had run out and he was left alone with his thoughts.
“Why?” He whispered to himself, tears beginning to soak the cheek that rested against the floor. The banging on the door had stopped, the last person in the world that he cared for had stopped caring for him.
He became overwhelmed with sickness and so he slumped himself over the toilet bowl, throwing up violently. He didn’t want to throw up. He had taken so many pills that he didn’t want to do it again.
Suddenly, he lost his breath. He felt as if he was drowning, but without the water. He slipped down onto his back and closed his eyes. Sweet eternity.
“Gerard!” Mikey burst through the broken door seconds later. He was too late. Gerard had already gone. He fell to his knees and embraced his Brother’s broken, defeated body.
“Why, why, why?!” He screamed through sobs as he pounded his dead Brother’s chest in anger. He looked up and saw a crumpled piece of paper.
“Where did all of the Heroes go?” He whispered into Gerard’s ear.