Immaculate Misconceptions

Chris' eyes were focused on the ceiling. Although they were the only part of his body he still had control of at the moment, he didn't move them. He was not only paralyzed physically but he felt paralyzed mentally. Maybe only an hour ago he was crying over the bodies of two innocent children whose lives were taken because of him.
Because of him.
They only frenzied to pull Chris away from the kids when he began to vomit violently, blood dripping from his lips. They wanted to keep him alive.
For some reason they wanted to keep him alive.
He didn't want to admit it, he wouldn't admit it but he so badly wanted to take his last breath. He didn't want them to keep him alive... He wanted them to let him go. The only thing I believe that was keeping Chris fighting on the inside was the faces that were still haunting him. Not just the dead ones, the ones that cheered for him. The ones he shared the most memories with. He wanted to see them all again, at least once.

The "doctor" proved to be Glasses. Two men restrained the still crying Chris long enough for Glasses to inject the same blue liquid from the day Chris dislocated his arm and it sent an almost pleasant warm feeling throughout him as all his muscles relaxed and he fell silent.
He didn't watch as Glasses prepped a rather large needle that pierced into his abdomen. He could only take a shark intake of breath as it stung his side which was almost as badly burned through as his arms and legs. The feeling was odd as it pushed through his skin, his muscles, and moved within him. The needle was thick and cold and it wiggled within him in search of something. It felt so unnatural and alien that Chris so badly wanted to squirm away but he couldn't move. The large needle found it's way to his stomach and punctured through it and immediately there was the sound of something trickling and hitting the surface of a container. It was a steady rhythm. Chris couldn't move his head to see but the needle acted like a funnel that helped remove the blood that was collecting within his stomach and possibly his lungs. The blood was collected in a large container and it almost sounded like a running faucet.

Immediately, Chris could start to feel a difference. The pressure within his stomach was so much that the blood rushed out quickly and the bloating within his abdomen was going down. The queazy feeling left him but his stomach still did flips. In about 5 minutes the steady stream started to slow down the the contents exiting his stomach was becoming bile more than blood. Glasses took a small tool and cut the thick needle close enough to his stomach that he wouldn't have a protruding rod in his side but the needle would stay there for future treatments. Next, he took a long sliver of rubber and pushed it carefully into the open canal of the needle where it would act as a plug. Lastly, he covered the small nub protruding from his side with a bandage.
He covered the container filled with Chris' own blood and left.

The two men were careful with him now as they picked him up and carried him back to the place where he once hung. The shackles were already lowered and they simply laid him down flat on his back and shackled his feet. They adjusted Chris to ensure he wouldn't roll on his side and risk the needle going further than it needed to be and with a sickening gentle movement, closed his eyes.

They left him laying there, a victim. Unable to sleep as the faces of the dead haunted him.
He'd wish they would've left his eyes open so he could stare at the ceiling until his eyes were dry.

~~

There was a knock on the side of Kuza's bunk causing him to pull the curtain aside slowly, "Yeah?" His throat was sore. Not just from the crying but the changes of weather caused him to grow ill. They had a day off today and they unfortunately would have to cancel tomorrow's performance in order for Kuza to recover his voice.

Ryan looked at him with a small smile, "A few of us are going to head out to pick up food, want anything?"
"Where ya headed?" He sat up slightly.
"Probably some fast food joint."
"Any burger would be fine then..." His voice got quiet as he relaxed back into the bed. He glanced at Ryan questioningly when he didn't leave.
Ryan twisted his mouth, "I know Angelo talked to you... I can see it in your eyes."
Mike avoided his stare, "Yeah..."
Ryan cleared his throat, "I'd feel a bit better to know if you've been considering it... Ya know... I just kinda need something to lean on... For the sake of the future of this band."
Kuza felt himself get frustrated, "How can all of you be so quick to move on? What the hell is wrong with you guys? You're so quick to just give up on Chris!"
Ryan grew hot, "We never said we were giving up on Chris! Man! You act like you're the only one going fucking insane with all this shit! You're nothing special. Chris meant something to all of us. Excuse us for trying to lighten the impact if shit really does happen!"
"You want to lighten the impact? Like, do you EXPECT for them to come knocking on our door, calling our phones at any given second just telling us HEY CHRIS IS FUCKING DEAD!"
"Stop fucking acting like you have so much hope because the truth is YOU DON'T. You KNOW that any given day they WILL be calling our phones are knocking on our doors to tell us that Chris is alive and well or to tell us that Chris is fucking DEAD. Stop trying to deny the truth like a fan girl in distress Kuza, it's pathetic. It's time to grow up and face reality."

Kuza glared and held Ryan's stare for a moment before he looked away. Ryan was right, his high hopes were all falsely conducted under his own emotions, "I don't know what you want from me." He looked at him coldly.
Ryan ran a hand over his face, "You don't have to come to a decision now... Just. Give it some thought. I can't see ourselves-" He paused before continuing, "I can't see ourselves going on with anyone else. Take as long as you want but really, how long can we keep this act up? Someone's eventually gonna figure it out. You're not exactly Chris' twin, ya know?"

Mike didn't answer. He turned over in his bunk and stood quiet, closing his own eyes to try and tame his jumbled thoughts. He wanted to try and think this one out but there was so much confusion within him.
Ryan tapped the bunk lightly before pulling the curtain back and leaving Kuza within his own darkness.
Truth is, the fan side of Mike was speaking more often than the friend side. The fan side didn't want anyone to replace Chris, it felt wrong. No one could even match up with everything Chris had to offer, the inspiration he had to give. If anything the fan side of him thought Motionless should just call it quits... But the fan side of him would be upset to just have one of the greatest inspirations of his life just...
Gone.

The friend side of Kuza needed to bring itself to the surface before he caused the other members anymore stress. The friend side was a little more understanding. Motionless in White wasn't just Chris, Ryan, Josh, Devin, Angelo, and Ricky. Motionless in White had it's fans that they lived for, so many lives they've saved and so many more that still need saving. They were giving voices to the voiceless and what kind of band would they be to just have that voice silenced? They needed someone to keep the voice strong. They needed someone who could bravely hold out a hand, becoming a beacon of light for all of those lost in the dark. And what better somebody than Mike Kuza? A fan who became family and had more of an understanding of Chris' vision than any other dude out there with a great voice. Sure, Mike's clean vocals would need a bit of work but... He could do it. If not for the fans, than for Chris. He wouldn't let Chris' dream fade into just a memory.
If only he could think straight.

===
2 DAYS EARLIER
===

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I hear you," A cigarette bobbed between the 20 year old's lips as he spoke with a cell phone pinned between his shoulder and his ear. He drove casually on the usually busy rode but the skies were clear and most people were enjoying the weather not knowing when it'd start freaking out again.
"She's nuts man, I'm telling you," His buddy spoke rapidly over the phone, freshly out of a heated argument with his all too aggressive girlfriend.
"Ya know there's such things as domestic violence?"
"Yeah I know but I mean... I'd seem like such a pussy! Besides! I'm a gentlemen, I'd never hit a women back," The friend laughed sheepishly over the line.
"I get it but dude, she's practically raising hell on you and you can't even leave her cause I think she'd kill you. Don't you think it's time to maybe take the next step into getting out of that tight collar of yours?"
The friends sucked his teeth, "Maybe you're right."
"Damn straight," A hand left the steering wheel for a moment, long enough to toss the butt of his cigarette out his cracked window, "I'ma have to let you do, it's getting hard to keep this phone by my ear."
"Peace!"
He waited for the line to go dead before letting the phone fall into the empty seat next to him.

For a moment he focused on the road until a loud THUNK rang through his ears and his car came screeching to a stop. It sounded like someone threw a rock at his car.
Irritated, he quickly unbuckled and got out, preparing to deal with some bratty teens.
"WHAT THE- fuck?" He lowered his voice with a scowl. There was nothing but trees for miles... Maybe his tires just upturned a stone?

He circled his car with a keen eye for any damages and indeed he found it. A small dent in the right side of his car which faced the woodsy area.
He frowned, running his hands over it. It wasn't that bad... but did leave a bad scuff. He felt something crunch under his foot and jumped back for a moment.

An iPhone laid on the floor. The screen was badly smashed and it was probably worth shit now. He picked it up anyway and turned it over in his hands.
The frame wasn't too damaged and some pieces of it could still be salvaged. Maybe he can gain a few bucks off the parts?
He twisted his mouth and flipped the phone in his hands, using his nails to ever so painfully pry open the back. The insides were still intact, the battery was fine... Upon further inspection he discovered that a sim card was still snug inside.
His brow furrowed.
Could someone have lost it? Then again, he's standing in the middle of a road and there weren't any houses or stops around for another 20 minutes. Did someone actually throw it at his car?
He looked up suddenly at the flock of birds that screeched loudly as they left the trees. Something about it spooked him enough to convince him to just continue on his merry way home. He pocketed the damaged phone, deciding to pull it apart at home whenever he got the chance and got back in the car.