Kill All Your Friends.

I couldn't deal with this. I hated myself, I hated Mikey, I even hated Bert. 
Everything fucking sucked. 
Why couldn't life be back to normal?
I was slumped in the corner of my room, back in my own house. I couldn't stay in Mikey and Frank's flat after what had happened. The empty vodka bottles surrounded me, I weakly grabbed the only one that wasn't empty, attempted to down it in one. It was too much and I ran to the bathroom. I was so out of it, my hair wet because I was paid in a puddle in the bathroom, my eyes watering, my body shaking. I didn't want to move, I wanted to end it all, I would of stayed there all day if my phone hadn't rang. 
"Hullo..." I slurred. 
"Gerard? It's Mikey, you okay?" I noted the concern in his voice. 
"Yuh, imma gonna see him. Later." I murmured.
"Ge, are you drunk?"
"Nuh, I'm fucking fine." I hissed. 
"Okay, okay. Take care bro."
I love the way you lie.
"Bye," I spat the next word as sarcastically as I could, "bro."
He hung up. 
I decided I needed to see Bert, the hospital were idiots and I needed to make him better myself. I was furious at everything; my brain was spinning out of control. I could not take responsiblity for my actions. 
I walked into the hospital and I couldn't bear seeing him there. Limp, lifeless, his eyes shut, black greasy hair surrounding him. 
"I can't fucking stand this. Why are you not better?" I whispered into his ear. 
Then I did it. 
Ripped the wires from his skin. Ripped the breathing apparatus from his nose. 
Pulled, tugged, screamed. 
Things smashed, nurses raced in. 
Glass is shattered from the fight.
Nothing mattered anymore. 

On the first page of our story, the future seemed so bright.