The True Horror Began On Friday 13th

I lay back in bed, each thump of my heart vibrating my ribs and sending me into a fit of quivers. Ricky had said he’d camp out under my bed, in the dark. He said that I was going to be the bait and I was going to keep Mikey talking whilst he plucked up the courage to ‘jump him’. Ricky being here was helping a lot, he set things so simply. Like it was as easy a microwavable dinner.

“I found a spider down here,” Ricky whispered into the darkness, “I named her Jill,” he continued, shining the torch out from under my bed.

“I hate spiders,” I murmured, shifting my weight a little.

“Jill said she hates you too so every things even,” he whispered again. I rolled my eyes and rubbed my stomach to try and calm it, “Jill’s a goddamn sexy spider, She’s a little hottie.”

I chuckled lowly and turned onto my back, inwardly trying to calm myself down -Ricky got pretty snappy if anything became uptight.

“Stop worrying, will you? When you worry, I worry and when I worry I need a joint and right now I don’t have one of those,” he sighed, I heard him shuffle around and suddenly his head appeared. He scratched his head before running his hand through his light brown, tangled, greasy hair, “When the fuck did I last wash my hair? I’m starting to look like Kurt Cobain,” he murmured, scratching his chest.

I smiled faintly and buried half my face in my pillow whilst Ricky used to his tongue to twist his chin ring. He sighed and leant back on his elbows, inspecting his fingernails before grimacing.

“I think I’m the hairiest person ever, look at my knuckles, I’m turning into Big Foot. Then again I was a very early starter, staring sprouting hair like no tomorrow when I was, what? Eleven?”

“Nice,” I snorted.

“What? It’s true! That’s why my voice is so deep and croaky and you can barely understand what I’m saying. Y’know what I want? I want some of those avatar sunglasses. They are the coolest things you can fucking buy. I also want one of those Russian hats, y’know with all the flaps and shit? Real nifty –Oh! And I want a snake, I want to call him Douglas,” he said, grinning proudly.

“Douglas?-“

“Yes and I want a big, fat, ginger cat called Morris, short for Morrissey and then when she has babies I’ll call them ‘The Smiths’. And I’ll buy Morris a shirt that says ‘Bite My Fat Ginger Tail,” he said, nodding.

“I feel sorry for whatever children you have when your older,” I sighed, curling myself round one of pillows, already feeling tired, “They should have come by now. It’s like-“ I stopped and glanced at my clock, “Nearly two,” I murmured, “Do you think they know you’re here so they won’t come? What if it isn’t Mikey? What if it was just some one fucking around?” I asked. Ricky grunted from down on the and pushed his hands behind his head, trying to kick the torch out from under my bed.

“Maybe it was a ghost,” he said, shining the torch up by his chin to cast a beam of light to float around his face.

“Don’t,” I murmured, “I hate thinking about ghosts.”

“They're not real,” Ricky said, lifting himself up from the floor and sitting on my bed.

“They are,” I muttered, “You just haven’t seen one yet,” I said.

“And you have?” Ricky asked, tracing the purpling bruise on his knee.

“No,” I murmured, “But… ghosts are see through. You’re not supposed to them. There meant to see you, aren’t they? And, maybe… I think maybe it’s Gerard that’s doing-“

“No!” Ricky said shaking his head, “Not possible, no, no, no, no, no. Just no. Stop right there, end of sentence, clean break, close the fucking suitcase. Gerard Way is dead. There are no such things as ghosts, spirits and souls. All that junk is absolute bollocks. Erase it from your mind. Because he is dead. Definition –the end of life, not longer living. You rot, your eyes melt into the back of your head, your stomach acid fills up and makes you burst. He. Is. Stone. Cold. Dead,” Ricky stated.

“Thanks for that…” I murmured, “But I still hold to what I say. I think Gerard is doing this. I really do,” I said, pulling the covers up to my chin, “Dead or Alive he won’t stop until he gets-“

“Stop!” Ricky said, “Listen to yourself, it’s ridiculous, dead people don’t live anymore!” Ricky hissed, trying not to yell, “You sound crazy. He’s dead-“

“I know you keep telling me!”

“Well stop talking about ghosts and shit! It’s creepy stuff you don’t need to plant into you brain. You want me to explain to you how dead he is?-“

“He’s not dead!” I said firmly, “He is not dead! I saw him! Out of the window, he was standing by a tree! I know I saw him-“

“He is fucking dead!” Ricky bellowed, “He’s at the bottom of a lake, he can’t hear, he can’t smell, he see, he can’t touch, he can’t taste. He’s bound in that eternal belt called fucking death!” he yelled, “Stop kidding yourself! I’ve known it for the past month! As soon as you told me about him dying, you acted like you weren’t bothered, like he’s just gone on a fucking holiday! Admit it to yourself that he isn’t coming back!”

“I have never acted upset because there’s no point,” I said through gritted teeth, trying to keep calm through his accusing rant. Ricky let out a shaking breath before he rubbed his temples.

“Tell me one thing then. One thing. You say you love him. You say he loved you. Then why did he rape you , take weird pictures of you, film dodgy videos, get you pissed when he fully well knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it and try and drive you off a cliff,” he asked, shaking his head, “Just tell me why-“

“He pushed me out of the car, he wasn’t trying to kill me. All those other times were misunderstandings, he explained. He didn’t force anything on me, I wanted a drink so I drank, he wanted to take a video so I let him –the pictures were just jokes and… and-“

“And what,” Ricky asked calmly, “Just admit this to me and yourself. He is a pervert, a paedophile, a power freak, a fucking psycho, an animal who is incapable of proper human feelings and emotions,” he said. He didn’t say it maliciously, just sharply.

“You didn’t know him like I did,” I muttered, “You didn’t know the times when he could be nice. You didn’t see all that and you have no goddamn right to say all that about him!” I said, sitting up and pushing myself into the corner of mybed, trying to swallow that horrible feeling in my throat.

“Ren. I like you, alright? I don’t wanna fuck you, or try and get into your pants. I think your great though, I like how you think, you got a good fucking head on your shoulders. But you are driving yourself crazy. Now I gotta say, now we’re having this little ‘chat’ that I don’t believe you about the cards. I’m not saying your lying but I think you’ve done them yourself to try and make yourself think that Gerard is alive.”

“He is alive! And I’ll prove it!”

Ricky stared at me, his blue eyes boaring into mine and making them water. He heaved himself up and brushed the back of his thighs down, still staring at me whilst I tried not to break away.

"You're fucking crazy," Ricky murmured.