Andy

The night spent in the hospital was eventless. I tossed and turned in my sleep and woke up twice with nightmares, once with shaking. After I'd finally calmed down enough to go to sleep, I was too awake to try, so I spent most of the night just lying there in the absolute still, suffocating silence, listening to the low murmur of nurses outside my door.

When morning finally came, the doctor visited before my parents showed up. A nurse brought in a tray of food while the doctor made his rounds and asked me questions, checking things off on his clip board.

"Your voice sounds better today," he noted. "Be careful not to strain it for another week."

I nodded solemnly, picking apart the piece of toast on the tray to a pile of crumbs. I was anxious to get out of there and go home, to my own nice, safe room. Where there were no nosy people slipping in and out of your room all night.

"Let's check the bruises."

He undid the ties on the neck-brace and carefully removed it with the nurse's help. He pressed around my neck, searching for swelling or abnormal lumps, and then he gave me a phrase to speak.

"Yeah, the raspiness will pass within a few days. I'd advise you to stick to drinking tea with honey until it does," he said. "I think you'll be fine without that for now." He jabbed his pen in the direction of the dreaded neck-brace, before looking down to write more notes on his sacred chart.

"Visiting hours begin at nine. If you'd like to take a moment to clean up before your family and friends arrive, I'd advise you do it now. I'll send in Nurse Amily to help you."

I was going to shoot down his offer, but I kinda wanted the chance to talk to Amily again. I was curious of her, and that could prove to be a very dangerous thing.

"Sure," I agreed.

After he left, I sat there picking slowly through my food, not feeling all that motivated to eat, because I had butterflies in my stomach.

I waited a few minutes, and then there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," I called as loud as I could manage. The door clicked open, and Amily stepped in with a soft smile, carrying a soft towel and a few other toiletries like shampoo and soap.

"Oh, I can handle my own shower," I told her, slowly throwing my legs over the side of the bed and sitting on the edge, looking at her expectantly.

She looked back in confusion, and set the bundle down on the desk under the small flat-screen TV that was mounted on the wall.

"Then why did Doctor Flakmann tell me you needed me?"

"I actually wanted to talk to you," I told her, taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly.

"Okay... Mind if I ask what it's about?"

"It's kinda personal..." I floundered, feeling awkward because I was being nosy.

"Shoot," she told me. She crossed the room, going to the window to grip the thick curtains in both hands, and yanking them open. A brilliant beam of early morning sunshine flooded the small room, making it feel less confined.

"Okay... Yesterday, you said you knew Andy Biersack?"

"In a way," she replied nonchalantly, examining the bloom of an orchid in the vase by the window.

"How so?"

She turned to smirk at me in amusement, her hands on her hips. "That would be a violation of my contract to tell you."

"Huh?"

She laughed. "He was a patient here. That's when I met him."

"During his suicide attempt..." I guessed immediately, not even really speaking to her, but to myself.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You know about that?"

I nodded. "He, ah... He told me about it once. Said once for cutting, another time for drug overdose."

She pursed her lips and nodded. I could tell she was being careful with what she said, because even though he was dead now, she couldn't disclose information about previous patients to ones that weren't even family.

"What was he like?" I found myself asking, and she looked surprised.

"I thought you knew him?" she asked in confusion, and I caught myself.

"Oh, I did. I just meant, like, when he was here."

"I can't tell you that." She chuckled as she began to clean up around the room. "But I guess I probably got the same Andy that you did. He was kind, and funny, and sarcastic. Always had something to say."

She smiled as she spoke. She spoke of him fondly, and I could see it in her eyes.

"Were you close?"

Her eyebrows pulled together in thought. "No, not really. I never really saw him or talked to him. I just came in to check his machines from time to time, and he'd just ramble about different things. He wasn't upset that he was in a hospital or why he was. It was almost like he didn't understand... Like talking to a kid."

I understood that. Andy never seemed to fully grasp his death, either. He joked around about it a lot, even though it was ultimately a death sentence, and there would be no return. He always had a smile, and rarely had anything negative to say about his situation.

"Yeah... He was like that," I replied absently, smiling slightly.

"What made you so curious?" Amily wondered curiously, an amused smile on her lips as she rearranged the items on my nightstand. I shrugged a little.

"Most people hated him. Finding people who knew who he was, and how amazing he actually was, just... Interests me, I guess."

She chuckled, but changed the subject. "Your family should be here soon. You might want to squeeze that shower in." She nodded towards the bathroom. I nodded in agreement, and hopped down from the bed, grabbing the towel ,shampoo and the neat pile beside it, which was yesterday's clothes set, freshly washed and folded.

I got the hot water started, and avoided my reflection as I went. Not only did I not feel like seeing my own face right now, but I didn't want to see the hideous marks on my neck. I groaned when I remembered I had to return to school on Monday... As if I didn't have enough things to dread when I returned, without the bully attacks that were coming.

After I'd gotten out of the shower, I could hear my parents talking in the room. I sighed, combed through my dripping hair with my fingers a few times before unlocking the bathroom door and stepping out.

My parents both smiled at me, but remained slightly on edge.

"What's wrong?" I croaked.

"Nothing," my mom replied. "Christian just insisted on tagging along..."

I looked at them in confusion, waiting for them to elaborate.

"He was at our house at six this morning..." Dad groaned, rubbing his tired eyes. "All chipper and upbeat. His first words were 'ready to carpool?'"

I giggled. I could see CC doing something like that.

"Apparently his car is in the shop right now, so he was all too prepared to come with us. He's in the waiting room."

I laughed as much as I could manage and nodded. "Can we get out of here now?"

"We still have the meeting with the doctor. But you could probably go down and see Christian in the meantime."

I nodded and headed out the door, following the signs and asking occasionally for directions until I ended up in the wide waiting room, where a flat-screen was rumbling Frozen at a low volume for a few occupied children.

I spotted CC right away. He sat under the big front windows, his black mop of hair illuminated by the bright sunlight behind him. His frame bent over a small, beat up Nokia flip phone.

"Time to upgrade, isn't it?”

CC looked up in surprise, then chuckled. "Oh, this? Yeah, probably. But the difference between this and an iPhone is this is built like a tank. iPhones are built like towers of toothpicks, just waiting to be broken. My lifestyle and living habits would have it destroyed on the first day. Plus, this one has a cheaper bill."

He waved at me with his pathetic little Nokia, looking very proud of himself for owning an out-dated electronic.

I chuckled and sat down in the hard chair beside him.

"My dad told me about this morning. You showed up at my house? What a damn stalker." I laughed.

He smirked and poked my arm. "You sound like shit," he fired back.

I slapped his arm. "Shut it."

He laughed. "If you were to sing right now, you would sound just like Andy. That's how raspy and deep your voice is."

"That's an insult?" I scoffed.

He smirked. "I try."

"I know you do," I replied in my crackly voice, "which is why I finished filing your paperwork for a place in the mental hospital. I feel it'd just be a better living environment for you."

He narrowed his eyes at me with an amused smile, pretending to be offended. "Why, thank you! Better file for two cells, because you're just as messed up as me." He ruffled my hair, and strands of emerald fell into my eyes. I pouted, but did not reply. Instead I sat there, thinking of something ingenious to say when he interrupted my thought pattern.

"Are your parents pissed with me?" he asked, but I could see concern in his eyes.

"No. Why?"

"They were really edgy the whole drive." He shrugged. "Whispered a bit on the way over."

"About what?"

He shrugged.

"Oh come on, CC. Of all the times you could've eavesdropped-"

He held his hands up in defence. "I really couldn't hear them. They had the radio turned up. I think that was their intention, to keep me from hearing them."

I glared in confusion at the floor tile of the living room, wondering what on earth that meant. My parents were rarely secretive. To me, at least... I guess that makes sense, since they don't know Christian well. But still, they never went above and beyond to prevent eavesdropping unless it was major.

CC nudged me, and I looked up at my parents approaching me with a tight smile. Something was wrong.

"Can we drive you anywhere, Christian?" my dad offered, pulling out his car keys.

"Uh, depends on where you're going," he hedged.

"Just home."

"That works. I can walk to my parents' house and hang out there."

He got up, and I did too. I understand the stress involved in this whole situation, but they were like this well before last night. This was something that had been at least two days in the making.

~~~

When we got home, CC gave me a hug and a quick good luck wish, before stuffing his hands in his hoodie pockets and turning away to make his way up the street. I turned my attention back to my parents.

"What's up with you two? You've been acting really weird," I accused.

They looked at each other in surprise. "It's just stress, sweetie."

"About what? You've both been like this since Wednesday." I crossed my arms firmly, waiting for one of them to fess up.

"It's just been a tough week," my mom told me, nudging me forward. "Let's get you inside and settled in. The doctor wants you to take these..."

She started rattling off different medicine names, but their meaning was lost the second they met my ears. I spaced out and walked up to the front door, waiting for dad to unlock it. I stepped into the empty, dim foyer, and made my way up to my room to change into something more comfortable.

I turned on some music in the background to distract me. There had been something I'd been thinking about lately, and with only today and tomorrow to work on it, I decided I'd get started.

But before I did, I noticed something was missing from my room. The denim Prophet jacket, which I had left on the end of my bed the night before, was now gone. I went to the hallway and called out. "Hey Mom, were you in my room?"

It took her a moment to reply. "No. Why?"

"Oh... Nevermind."

I looked back, and even checked the closet. I groaned. I must've misplaced it. I decided to ignore it for now, and get to work.

All the ideas that were bouncing around in my head when I visited Apture, I had finally come up with a topic for my writing class assignment. It was something slightly crazy, and something that meant a great deal to me. Something I could write about forever, just describing the details, because there were so many.

I sat down at my desk and started up my computer, while I reached for my backpack and dug through the flaps, pulling out my journal. I laid it down flat and began to read and memorize the first passage. A simple quote from some dead kid.

"I want to see my family, I want to watch my cousins grow up, and I want to see my family grow old together, and celebrate things. I want to see all the new additions, and the loss. I want to be here. My place is here."

I took a deep breath and began to write. More and more, the words just poured out of me. Of course, I had to change names and locations, but it was still there. Everything I felt, out on paper at last. Just as I had always intended it to, all those nights ago.

That night of the accident, I didn't know what to say about it, because it wasn't my grief. It wasn't my pain. I was merely a bystander, and couldn't possibly understand. But I knew so much more now, and it was time to document my thoughts.

I typed, and at noon my mom came in with lunch, with my first serving of medication for various things. From aches and pains to throat swelling, it was all covered in that handful of colorful chemical tablets.

She talked to me for a while, and asked me what I was writing. I just shrugged. "It's my late writing assignment our teacher gave us last week. We were supposed to write about something beyond belief, like myths and stuff."

"What did you write yours on?"

"Ghosts," I replied, smiling slightly at my private joke. It was so much more than that.

She nodded. Her expression told me that she thought this was outside her abilities of understanding. "Let me know if you need anything."

I nodded, and went back to typing. Not because I wanted the thing done, but I wanted to feel all of it again. I read through my notes and passages, and I could feel the same confusion or joy I had within that same moment.

I sighed in contentment, and looked at all the words on my screen. The cursor blinked patiently. I was making progress.

The Black Veil Brides album was playing in the background, and Andy's possessed demon screams could be heard from Knives and Pens. I hunched over my keyboard again and began to type another quote. I was combining everything into a flashback style piece in which the reader could experience everything the author had within a few minutes, resulting in a trippy ass journey which made you feel actual loss.

The end I typed, and sighed. I didn't want it to end there. There were more adventures I could have created for those characters, but it only would have made it longer, and it would have exceeded the maximum word count for the class assignment.

I decided that I would continue writing it later, just for me, because I at least deserved closure and needed to know how things ended. Not to leave them so abrupt as climbing into a casket and that being the end.

I looked over my right shoulder in confusion. Knives and Pens had been carrying on happily in the background, and it suddenly cut out. A few seconds later, The Mortician's Daughter started to play. I groaned and got up out of the hard folding chair, going to the CD player and hitting stop to take out the disc and clean it. Clearly something was up if it skipped half the damn song.

I flipped over the shiny disc and saw my reflection in it, as I carefully scrubbed at it with a soft piece of cloth.

"All right..." I sighed, putting it back in the CD player with a quiet click, and hitting play. I searched the disc until Knives and Pens began to play again, but before the first riff had even sounded, the sound cut out again, a static noise came through the speakers.

I looked at it in confusion, I could...hear something. I leaned closer and listened, turning the volume dial slightly, and there it was, lost in the static, a soft voice.

I was freaking out now... I turned it louder, and listened carefully, trying to make out the words.

Can you... Hear me? Are you... Near me? Can we pretend... To leave and then.... We'll meet again... When both our cars collide.

Helena. I recognized the familiar verse. But as I listened, I realized the music was not coming from the speakers at all... The static was empty. I turned around, and could hear Gerard Way belting the lyrics "So long and goodnight."

There, on the end of my bed, was my cellphone. It's power on, music app opened, and the Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge album art was displayed on the screen.

I approached it slowly, my hands shaking. I looked down at it, but I didn't touch it. I just stared at it, waiting for the next thing to happen and send me into a frenzy.

My breath hitched, and I heard a soft rustle. I looked at the desk to my left, and my notes were scattered across the carpet. I couldn't breathe. My heart was swelling with fear and naïve hope. I closed my eyes and told myself to get a grip. I clenched my hands and took a deep breath.

"Andy," I whispered in recognition, allowing his name to just to hang in the still, silent air. The static had stopped, and the music had paused.

My eyes opened, and I looked down at the phone, the pause symbol displayed now. I was slightly terrified of turning around. Scared that he was there, and how I might react... But what would be worse is how I would react if he wasn't.

I swallowed hard. "Where are you?" I croaked, my hands shaking. I could feel the tears in my eyes as I waited for an answer.

"Dammit," I cursed, getting angry that he wasn't replying, and there was no proof I was actually sane in that moment. I stood there, frozen, my arms at my side. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for disappointment. Before I could even turn around, something cold curled around my torso.