The True Horror Began On Friday 13th

“Now,” Mrs. Curtis began, clicking her tongue against her yellowing horse teeth, “For homework, seeing as we’ve been studying Anne Frank and diaries in general. I want you guys to write up your own diaries, set yourself a situation and write a diary entry, concluding a week-“ her drawling accent was suddenly cut off by the whining, shrill voice from the bell.

Everyone charged up, excluding myself, I managed to trudge out of the classroom, my eyes stinging from lack of sleep. I had French next, I was lagging at that as well.

I scrubbed at my eyes, going over the situation on my head. It was like The Black Plague, you’d have to burn it off to get rid of it. I had written down the quotes on a ripped out piece of my math book, mulling over them for hours and hours.

The quotes confused me, the feeling of confusion made me feel sick and feeling of sickness made me dread the day. And it was all goddamn Gerard. And he was dead for fuck sake, I didn’t understand how he can have such a knock affect. Although, I did feel like I was contradicting myself at times, it didn’t feel like he was dead. If I imagined hard enough I still hold onto what he used to feel like, down to the way he would make his fingers climb up my arm when I was sleeping. Making up his own game under his breath.

I felt a pad of rough finger tips began to glide up to my elbow and back down, a hitch of concentration eligible in his breath. I held back the need to grin when I felt him let out a small ‘ommph!’ under his breath, making his finger fall over as well.

“Edward, I do seem to be unable to clamber down this vertical hill of tummy,” Gerard murmured, making his forefinger tap onto my stomach like a foot, “It is quite steep,” he whispered again, using a small squeaky voice.

“Just walk you silly boy,” he muttered in a low Scottish accent, making his other hand join the quest. He made a low squealing sound in the back of his throat whilst making ‘Edward’ slide down my stomach, a horrible squelching sound emitting from his being squashed.

“Help me!” Gerard squealed, I could help but grin under my breath when Gerard started making his other hand plod slowly down my stomach singing ‘do, be, do, be, do’ quietly to himself.

I cocked my eye opened and watched him as he concentrated hard. Our eyes suddenly met and his cheeks darkened as he made a vein attempt at trying to be ‘asleep’.

But that only if I imagined, newspapers were still about with snippets of Gerard on them, it was of when he was younger though, wearing a Madonna shirt. Gerard’s dad, Donald, had seen me dithering around Gerard’s memorial and he had simply patted me on the back and said ‘Gerard told me about you’.

I didn’t know what he meant by that, whether he meant Gerard had told him everything, or whether Gerard had just said the normal things. I just smiled warily and nodded.

That’s where I was now, Gerard’s memorial I mean. I hated it –honestly, I really did. It was cheesy. A head stone with ‘much loved son and brother, forever he will be in our hearts and forever we will be in his’. That was enough to make me want to throw. There was a blown up picture of him, smiling away in his Madonna shirt. There were bright coloured flowers and even a small teddy there.

But Gerard wouldn’t want that. He didn’t want cheesy head stones, with weird flowers. He always said if he were to die he would want his ashes to be put in a shiny black pot and put on a mantle piece. He said he didn’t want any pictures or toys or anything like that.

I could understand why, I wouldn’t have wanted all the celebration over my death either.

I started to stalk away, drops of thick rain beginning to sabotage Jersey. I pulled my jacket around my shoulders and continued to walk, beginning to shiver when the water started to seep into my clothes. The lampposts began to click on sullenly, dusk fast approaching.

I walked faster and took bigger strides, not wanting to be trapped out in the dark by myself.

I hurried along, keeping my head ducked low and staring at my feet. All I could hear was the audible click of my shoe on the ground. There was an orange glow cast on everything, like the city was cast in a roll of syrup.

Footsteps also joined mine, a few metres behind me –It was him

I could tell, I wasn’t stupid. I wasn’t going to make a big drama out of the situation by beginning to run and scream about my ex-boyfriend. No, I knew it was him, dead or alive that feel behind me was Gerard Way.