Afterward

Char came to me again.

I was tired of him, too tired to even be pissed, so I decided to ignore his knocks on the door and lie on my bed, blasting music on my iPod. Story of the Year sang out. I sighed, closed my eyes, and drowned myself in the song.

Char moved to my window, rapping on that even harder.

Now that got me. I swung myself off my bed and glowered at the creature that used to be my friend. I saw that Char hadn't been taking care of himself. His eyes were sunken, his clothes draping off his thin body, his skin filthy and dirty; he looked like a homeless person. Technically, I knew he was homeless. He was pretty much a wandering poltergeist, a ghoul that continually haunted me and slept in the streets doing who-knows-what. A disgusting shell of his former self, my former friend.

"Let me in." He said to me.

"Fuck no." I dropped the blinds in front of him.

I went back to my bed and put in my headphones.

Char started banging on my window, pounding on it hard enough that my blinds rattled and I could hear it through the music. I ripped the headphones off and stormed to the front door, tearing it open. "What the HELL could you possibly want!?" I shouted.

Char stared at me.

I waited, trying to calm down. I focused on the scar on his cheek, which was vaguely shaped like a heart with a crack in it, and then looked him straight in the eyes. I noticed that his pupils were as small as pinpoints.

"I just want to be friends again." Char said slowly. I saw his head slightly bobbing up and down. "I'm... going fucking crazy. I can't take this hate from you anymore... I can't take going to my house and my family thinking I'm dead. I... AM dead. There's nothing for me to live for anymore."

I thought of him committing suicide again. My friend, Char, had first split his outside form and it committed suicide, burning itself alive in his own house. Now that inside part, his real form, his mind, his emotions, the thing that most people do not see, is wandering around like a ghost. Nobody but I and a few close friends can see him. He is alive, but still a ghost to the outside world. I didn't know what to think about him killing himself for the last time.

Then I said, "I will never forgive you for what you did to her."

To me, Char looked like he was in a daze. I didn't know if he heard me or not. He eventually said, "I... I think I'm just gonna sleep," and he lied down on my lawn and curled up in a ball.

My first reaction was to kick him. My second reaction was pity, and suddenly, I felt terrible. I looked at his emaciated body and looked at his sleeping face, and I swallowed down my guilt. Char was the same guy, the nerdy trombone player who had a little pyromania, the same guy who was my friend.

But....

I remembered what he did to her. I remembered what she told me, I remembered what abuse he did to her, and I...

I picked him up, took him inside my house, and lied him on the couch. I was going to let him rest, and whatever happened next was going to happen.

I just needed to talk to him.