I Thought the Jetset Life Was Gonna Kill Him

I screamed, but he didn’t seem to hear my cries and pleas. I knew he didn’t want to, anyway.

With my fear blinding me, I fell over in my attempt to reach him. I didn’t want to waste a second, so I immediately picked myself up. I didn’t want him to do it. I knew I had to stop him.

He now stood before me, dark hair falling over his eyes; creating shadows upon his pale face. His hand moved across the table, and gripped upon a shotgun.

I screamed again, grabbing onto his arm. He pushed me away forcefully, and pulled the trigger.

Bang, bang.

There was a knock at the door. I was quite thankful for that; I didn’t really want to see Gerard’s corpse on the floor.

I ran over to the door, and turned the handle. My hands were sweaty, as was the rest of my body. That dream scared the absolute fuck out of me. For a second there, I thought it was real.

‘’Jenna…’’ Gerard spluttered, pushing open the door and crashing into my arms, ‘’She’s s-s-sick… real sick…’’
I didn’t know what was happening. Who was sick? Why was he crying?

‘’Gerard, what’s wrong?’’ I asked softly, stroking his hair.
‘’It’s Nan… she’s… d-d-d-dying…’’ He whispered, his grip getting tighter on me.
‘’Oh… I’m… so sorry, Gerard. Sit down, and I’ll get you some strong coffee. Wait, where is Mikey?’’ I replied, leading him to the couch.
‘’He’s… out. And I won’t need any coffee – Mikey is bringing some… refreshments… He’ll be over soon,’’ He muttered, crashing onto the couch.

I hated seeing him like this – once was enough. His skin was now ghostly white; his eyes were red and puffy. It hurt me to see him hurting.

Soon enough, there was a knock at the door and I rushed over to answer it. Mikey was standing there, with a large brown bag in his hand. He stepped into the room, and I hugged him. His eyes were equally as red; his skin was equally sallow; as his older brother’s.

He finally released me from his grasp, and looked at me with apologetic eyes.
‘’He made me get it, Jenna. I’m sorry.’’