Paint It Black

Butcher dropped me off at my therapist office. The building is very old, somewhat scary, but looked warm. The inside was modern, high tech stuff about, and nice, bug comfy chairs. The walls had a slick, brown paint that I loved to trace my hand on. Down the halls were paintings, ones I didn't know, and a few I knew. Each office had a door, one to each different doctor professing in such disorders. My doctors was at the end, I loved humming and running my fingers up the wall as I walked.

I stopped at her door, opening it, and being welcomed with the smell of peppermint and hot coffee. The waiting room, inside, was empty, and her massive mahogany clock on the wall ticked mercilessly.

"Hello, Sunny," she greeted just as I sat in the matching mahogany chair.

"Hi Dr. Simmons," I waved awkwardly at her as I stood. You would think I wouldn't be so awkward with a woman, with whom I shared my darkest moments with.

"How are you?" she asked as we stepped into her office.

"I'm fine, I can't wait to see my mom."

She sat in her big, black, leather computer chair behind her desk. I sat in the black cushion seat across from her. She had a few framed photos on her desk, with her partner and their adopted sons. They were quite a nice looking family, and I won't lie, I was a tad bit jealous of her.

"Oh, that's right, you leave tomorrow," she smiled, tossing her short reddish brown hair behind her ear, "is Andy coming with you?"

I shook my head, "He has an art show coming up, at the end of Summer, and he's preparing for that."

She hummed, nodding her head, "Are you still painting?"

I shook my head, "Not really, but I plan on doing some when get to my moms."

"How have the dreams been? Any yet?"

I shook my head again, this was normal, "Not yet."

She hummed, again, normal, too, "Any thoughts about Frank?" I swear I saw the italics when she said his name.

"No," I lied; he was on my mind every morning, while in the shower.

"What about your baby?" 

I swallowed hard, "A little, but I'm getting better at controlling my emotions."
"And Tyler?" 

I chewed at my lip, staring at her, now. I nodded, once, and opened my mouth to speak, "I miss him the most."

I hated speaking to her about Tyler, she knew exactly where to twist my brain and make the emotions spill over the numbness. I couldn't help but cry whenever she did pick at the exact spot. 

"Are you going to see him?"

"Yes, I hope."
-

When the session was over, I met Butcher outside of the building. He was eating an ice cream cone, sitting on the steps. He had on blue ray bans, and smiled when I sat beside him.

"Why didn't you get me one?" I asked, nudging him.

"It would have melted," he countered with a grin, "and I know you'd rather have a cigarette."

I rolled my eyes, standing with him, and followed to his car.

The ride to Target was filled with loud music by the Beatles; and smoking. I had been a fan, but as the year passed, I was more into them than ever. Butcher liked the With The Beatles record than any of their other records, and that's what we jammed to.

When we pulled up, Butcher and I walked side by side, joking and pushing each other. Most pegged as a couple, but we didn't see how, we were like brother and sister.

"Are you coming on tour with us?" Butcher asked as we walked down the toiletry isle.

"When?" I walked beside him, picking up deodorant and tooth paste.

"August."

I shrugged, "I don't know, probably not."

"Oh, come! We're gonna be in tour with Kiss!"

I chuckled, looking at him sideways, "I do not like Kiss, B."

He frowned when I looked at him, "Are you depressed again?"

I shook my head, playful smile in my lips, "No, I'm just feeling a change coming on."

He rolled his eyes, "Are you going to change your hair color again?"

"I want another tattoo," I turned to him, giving him a stupid grin. 

"So soon?" he grinned back.

"I like the way it feels."

He stopped the cart, "You always complain and scream at me."

"I do it all for show, Butchy," I pinched his cheek and continued down the isle.

"Well, I don't like it."

I giggled at how upset he was. Tattoos didn't hurt as bad as I made them look. I cried out and cursed at Butcher to get a reaction out of him. So far, he hasn't messed up any he's given me.

"How's the one on your neck?" he asked as we headed toward the registers.

I rubbed the right corner, back of my neck, "Itches like crazy, sometimes," he told him.

I had gotten the a grungy skull on my neck, near my ear, with a teeny heart beside it. 

"Don't scratch it!" he yelped out; causing a few crazy stares our way.

"Jesus, Butcher!" I yelped back.

He lifted his shoulders, smiling innocently, "Sorry."

I shook my head, "Let's go, before you embarrass us anymore."

I took the front of cart and pulled it down the isles to the register. I stopped once Butcher began to push harder. I moved to the side of him and we both carried on.

We stopped in one of the lines, they were all pretty lengthy. 

"Did you bring your iPod?" he asked, sighing at the lines.

"Yes," I pulled it out, excitedly.

Butcher and I listened to 504 Plan's Fathead while waiting in line. I hummed along, leaning on the cart, when I turned my head; I noticed a tall blonde, baby on her hip, looking at a rack of men's shirts. I bit at my lip, wondering if it was Marilyn.

My deepest fear came true; it was her. She turned, her eyes locking with mine, and I quickly looked away. I looked to Butcher, who was busy humming along; I heard her hum and say something, then the click of her heels marching over.

I quickly pulled the earbud from Butcher's ear; "Hey," he muttered.

"This girl is coming over here, I don't like her, bail me out if I start to get mad."

Butcher looked confused, but nodded, "Okay."

I held my breath, turning the iPod off, as her heels stopped near me.

"Well, well, well," she murmured, "long time no see...thought you'd be in Hollywood by now."

I looked up at her; her hair was still dull and her eyes were dead, her baby had the matching blonde hair and was asleep on her shoulder, "Hello." I muttered, "Can't say it's nice seeing you," I mumbled after.

"Hi," Butcher waved to her, like a little child.

"Oh, I know you," she stated, looking at him, but then she turned to me, "still dating celebrities?"

I chuckled, "Andy is my best friend," I told her, wrapping an arm around him.

"Yeah," he put his on my waist, "her boyfriend is--"

I cut him off, "Unimportant, Butcher," I hissed.

"No Frankie?" she pouted at me.

I clenched my fist, dropping my arm from around Butcher, "Nope, I don't sleep with people who fuck disease ridden whores like yourself."

Butcher gave an "Ooh", while Marilyn set her jaw. I gave myself a little pat on the back, figuratively, and smiled. 

"I still have his baby," she smirked at me, like she was proud.

I shrugged, "So? Should that upset me?"

She tighten her lips, turned and stormed off. I raised my brow as she walked away, she gave up so easily. 

Butcher chuckled, "Ouch," he said, putting his arm around my shoulder and gave me a tight side hug, "kitty got claws!"

I shook my head, giggling, "You're so stupid, Butcher."

He let me go, the line moved up, "That's the girl that slept with your ex-boyfriend?"

I nodded, pulling the iPod out again, "Yeah." the thought made me feel worse than I should be. Butcher saw this and gripped me into another side hug.

Butcher, nor Jack, knew who Frank was to me. They knew who My Chemical Romance is, they had even met, but they didn't know I had history with them. I never, ever, talked about them, and I never played their music. Butcher is a fan, and even asked me why I didn't listen to them. I shrugged it off as 'not into them', when in fact I missed hearing Gerard's funny little laugh, Mikey's knees, Ray's fro, and the way Bob looked so mean all the time. I truly missed them, I really did, but the pills helped me forget the pain of missing them.

Whenever Butcher asked about my ex, I never told him his name, and gave him vague details about our relationship. Butcher respects my privacy, and even became protective of me when I'm around other guys. He's like my big brother, I love him for that.
-

My flight was leaving at 5 am, Butcher would be driving me. After yesterday, Butcher didn't bring up Marilyn or Frank, thank God, and continued on being his weird self. That's what I like about him, he was always honest, very caring if my feelings and was always himself.

"Aye, you got an extra charger for my nikon?" Butcher came in just as I put my clothes in my suitcase.

"Yeah, let me get it," I dropped the shirt I was folding and went to my dresser. My white dresser was stained with drawings of Homer Simpson and penises thanks to Sisky. I chuckled to myself, kneeled and opened the bottom drawer. I stuck my hand in, looking for the extra plug. I landed on a box, and hoped it was my chargers; I pulled it out and found it was the small oak wood box my mom had given me.

"What's that?" Butcher asked, stepping beside me.

"I dunno," I had forgotten what I put in it, "I'll check later."

I continued my digging and soon found the cords. I grabbed the one Butcher needed and handed it to him.

"Sweet, thanks," he ruffled my hair and stepped out of my room.

I closed the drawer and grabbed the small oak box. I looked at it, trying to remember exactly what I had put inside. I shrugged, drawing a blank, and popped it open.

As soon as the lid opened back, the glimmer of silver caught my eye. My heart began to race as the memories ate at me. I picked up the silver; it was my charm bracelet that Mikey had bought me. I smiled to myself, and jiggled it.

"Oh, Mikey," I sighed to myself.

I looked down at the box, seeing there was pictures, tickets, and picks from other concerts I had been to. Then the iPod, with the taped message still on the back, and that film strip, of Frank and I, met my eyes. My smile faded, I picked it up and dropped the bracelet. All these weird feelings came flooding back, the smiles, the kisses, the hugs, everything.

"God, I am so weird," I mumbled, putting the picture down.

The feeling to rid myself of this picture washed over next. I put it between my fingers and prepared to rip. I looked at the last frame, though, smiling to myself. I couldn't bring myself to tear it up, instead I put it back in the box, along with the bracelet and closed it up.