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Desolation Row

Alone Together

Pete pulled on his dark skinny jeans, looking back at the pretty young blonde who lay fast asleep in her bed; her face possessed an almost childlike innocence in the moonlight that shone down from the bedroom window. Pete pulled the leopard print sheet over her naked body, kissing her on the forehead as he left her apartment.

He walked out into the night. The stench of liquor stained his clothes and his head filled with regret as walked through the streets of Sawbridgeworth. He needed to stop doing this. Every night it was a different bar, a different man or a different woman, a different place but as always, the ending was always the same. He would leave them, warm in their beds, before the sun came up and he had to face another minuet, another agonizing moment, with them. He zipped up his coat, digging his hands deep into his pockets as he walked down the road towards the bus stop. A full moon, shone brightly down from the blackened skies, spotlighting him in its beautiful and majestic light as the cold, autumn wind crept around him; engulfing him in its icy touch. He shuddered, clenching his teeth as he wrapped his arms around his body; desperately trying to keep warm. Pete walked down the empty street on the outskirts of a town he had not visited in a while, his home town. Memories began to conflict with a feeling that constantly dominated his mind. Pete had almost grown used to this feeling. It was a subtle pulling now, a gentle tug at the back of his mind. Reminding him of what he had done, what he had walked out on. He walked down a pavement, past the bus stop; the same bus stop he had been sleeping in for the past month. He felt the feeling tug at him once again and he pressed on, hurrying himself away from there. The feeling was growing stronger as the fragmented memories of his past grew stronger. Pete remembered Mikey, more accurately; He emembered the strong feeling of hatred he felt the day he found out his friend was murdered. He hated that person, whoever it was, he hated them. They had broken his friends, his family and everything that was important to him. They had broken him. They were to blame.

Pete would happily kill them if he could.

He stopped. He had reached the end of the street and was now standing there in the middle of the road, looking up at an old house. A condemned sign hung on the door, blowing in the wind as it howled through the night. The house looked vacant and derelict from the outside; tiles falling from the roof into the overgrown front lawn and the windows boarded up with heavy planks of wood. He sighed to himself as he picked up the key the Way's always hid under the matt, which was now covered in a blanket of dirt and dust. He slipped the key into the lock and entered the house.

He looked around the house; the rooms were dark, with thick dust and stench of death hanging in the air like burnt toast. The moonlight outside beamed into the kitchen, faintly illuminating the counter and living room, everything seemed preserved, as if they had just left the house the day before. Pictures hung upon the yellowed walls of the house, a cup sat upon the kitchen counter with a copy of Metal Hammer opened to the article about Avenge Sevenfold lying neatly on the table next to the dinner plates, added almost a civilised touch to the museum that was once the house of this murdered family sent a shiver down his spine. Not a single piece of furniture had been moved or taken down. "Why did I come back?" He thought to himself as he fought back the urge to call out to his friends, he knew that he would not be getting a response; someone had sought to that merely a month ago. A part of him wanted to cry over his friends, to succumb to this feeling that haunted him and try to fix things, to make things better like he always did. But another part, that small, insignificant, broken part of him, no longer cared. He felt numb, a ghost of the man he used to be.

As Pete was about to explore the rest of the house, he came across a light switched. He flicked the switch, expecting the power to be out in the entire house but to his astonishment found the dim light in the living room to be fully functional; flickering in the darkness. He looked at the clock on the kitchen wall and found it was showing the correct time and date. His mind registered that something didn’t seem right, twitching and shaking to try and put the pieces together. He simply shrugged, pushing aside this feeling and sense of dread that seemed to build in his mind and reached for Arthur’s liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of vodka and drinking it straight from the bottle. "Who would go to all that trouble, not to have the power shut off?" He wondered, staring up at an old picture of Mikey and Gerard. They clung onto a young, dark headed woman, a large smile beamed on each of their pale little faces. Perhaps this was life before their mother left? They never liked to talk about her, especially after her sectioning. He looked around the room, a confused look spread upon his face. "Normally, they have to shut everything off when a house is condemned" He said aloud, wincing at the strong taste of the drink as a burning sensation tingled in his through. He sat in the dark alone. Silence echoed through the house as the wind continued to howl outside. The house suddenly grew cold and Pete could see his breath forming into a white mist as his body began to shiver.

"Pete? Is that you?" A voiced called from the hallway. Pete jumped at the sound of it, a voice he remembered all too well. The voice was soothing, almost gentle to his ears. The bottle shattered to the ground. In a flash, Pete picked up a shard of glass from the ground, pointing at the dark figure that had moved towards the doorway, the first person to startle him in months. As it stepped into the moonlight, his eyes fixed upon the boys face. He knew what he was seeing was impossible, he remembered the story of what happened the day Frank and Gerard had found him in vivid detail. He remembered his friend’s funeral and yet, this 16 year old boy stood there, a pale, smiling face beamed back at him as the rims of his glasses glinted in the moonlight.

“M... Mikey?” Pete stammered, as though he were a child that had just woken up from a nightmare. Mikey grinned, taking another step into the room; Pete’s rigid arm remained in the air, a sense of fear rising in his chest. “Hello Pete” He said quietly. Pete’s eyes moved from his face and down his body; he was still wearing the same clothes that he died in. A chill ran down his spine. Pete slowly edged away from the wall and towards the kitchen, the smile still perched upon his friends face. “I... I thought..I thought you were... you...” Pete stammered, his hands shaking. Mikey placed a finger to his lips, shaking his head. “It’s ok Pete, everything is going to be alright” He replied, holding his hand out towards him. Pete lowered his arm slightly. He felt tears well in his eyes as he stared at Mikey, almost unable to speak. “I’m so sorry Mikey, I’m just... I’m... so, sorry” He said, trying to control his voice. He ran a hand through his hair; the feeling had taken over him. He fell to his knees, tears rolling from his eyes which had long remained dry and emotionless as he begged for his friend’s forgiveness; clinging to the cuffs of Mikey’s skinny jeans. Mikey sighed, that smile still plastered upon his face. “It’s ok Pete, you didn’t do anything wrong. You did everything you could” He said softly, pushing his glasses up from his nose. He knelt down in front of Pete, placing his hands on his shoulders. Pete looked over his face, placing a hand on his surprisingly warm cheek. They embraced, feeling Mikey’s warm breath on the nape of his neck. “I’m so glad you came back” He cried, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie.
“You’ve had a long night” He replied, still smiling softly at Pete, hugging him tightly one last time before leading him over to the couch. “But I think you should sleep now” He added. Pete looked at the brown, filth ridden sofa before looking back at his friend; his smile had faded. “Mikey I...” Pete started but was quickly cut off.

“You know, you shouldn’t go into derelict houses Pete, you never quite know what’s hiding in the dark?” He interrupted, his voice had grown cold. He was looking over Pete’s shoulder; a twisted smile had once again formed upon his face. Pete spun round; the feeling of panic shot though him like a bullet. He saw nothing. He turned back to face Mikey but he had disappeared. He stood in the silence, his heart thudding in his chest. There was a thud from upstairs, sprinkling dust from the ceiling into Pete’s ebony coloured hair.

He ran out of the house, fear coursing through his veins as he desperately tried to escape its sight. He ran through the streets, terror in his eyes as he dodged a passing car and out of the street; breathing heavily as he tried to calm himself down, to stop himself from freaking out. He kept running, not stopping for anything or anyone. He didn’t know where he was going, nor did he care. He was running scared and he just needed to be inside; somewhere safe. In fact, he was so terrified, that he didn’t even notice someone watching him as he ran near screaming from the house.

****
Patrick lay in his bed, sighing as he looked over at the clock; it had just turned 3:43. He was often having trouble sleeping these days and yet, despite the countless sleep inducing pills he had swallowed over the past few weeks, he was still unable to sleep. Something was bothering him, tugging away at him like an annoying child; He wasn’t entirely sure what it was. Perhaps it was the decision made by his parents to ban him from ever seeing his friends again; an argument he wished he could forget ever happened. Of course, they blamed his room for that. “You shouldn’t have those stupid band posters up in your room, they’ll give you nightmares” he remembered his mother saying as she ripped down his Panic At The Disco poster. He turned his nose up at that memory; that woman really didn’t have a clue.

A quiet tap came from his window. He crawled out from his bed, clicking on the light as he pulled back the curtains. He jumped back, startled by the sight of Pete clinging to his window ledge. “What are you doing here?” He whispered angrily, his agitated face quickly changed into one of fear as he soon as he saw Pete’s terrified face. “Let me in, Pat please let me in, please! He cried, the terror in his eyes was almost frightening. Patrick quickly opened his window and Pete fell into his bedroom. He lay on the floor, panic shot through him as he struggled to breathe. “Pete calm down” Pat whispered, shaking him by the shoulders. He didn’t listen, falling into a panic attack. Patrick punched him in the face, shaken by what he was watching. He had never seen anybody look so afraid before, especially Pete. He sat up, beginning to breathe slightly more normally now. Patrick held him close, feeling his rapid heartbeat against his family guy pyjamas. “I saw him Pat, he was standing right there, oh god he was right fucking there!” Pete said frantically. Patrick shushed him, gently stroking his ebony coloured hair. He had dreamed of a moment like this for years. Had circumstances of been different, he might of lent in to kiss him... or so he liked to imagine anyway.

They sat there for a while until Pete had fully calmed down. In his arms, he finally felt safe. He didn’t mean to run to his house, but he didn’t know where to go anymore. He couldn’t go home, not after what happened. “Sorry I got angry, but where have you been Pete? I’ve been worried about you” He asked soothingly. Pete opened his mouth, to tell him everything. How he had no choice but to leave home, the endless line of men and women whose beds he had woken up in, but first... He had to tell him about Mikey and that house. “Pat, there’s something I need to tell you...” he said but was quickly cut off.

The phone in Patrick’s room began to ring. They stared at the phone for a moment, both wondering who would be ringing at this time of night. “Who the fuck could that be?” Patrick asked as he left Pete on his bedroom floor to answer the phone. As he reached for the phone, he noticed something.

The caller ID read: Mikey Way.

Fear struck at his heart as he slowly picked up the phone, holding the cold, plastic receiver to his ear. “Hello?” He said timidly. Silence. He looked over to Pete, his face grew pale. “Hello?” He repeated. Once again, he was met with silence, starting to get annoyed. “Who the fuck is this?” He growled. Pete stood up, taking the phone away from Patrick and hung up. Patrick raised his eyebrows, studying the fearful look in Pete’s eyes. In that moment of silence, the phone rang again. Patrick quickly picked it up. “Hello... Mikey?” He said quickly into the receiver. On the other end of the line, was a woman. Her soft voice sounded almost angelic in Patrick’s ear.

“I’m coming for you boys”

She spoke coldly into the phone. “Who the fuck....” Patrick started before she hung up, leaving them alone and frightened in his room.

Notes

Who is the person calling them and what do they want? Find out next week!

Comments

@mindchemicals
Don't get too sad- I'm planning to write an alternate ending to this story, it's a shocker x

ThatGeekJess ThatGeekJess
4/17/14

whyyyyy nooo, no one can die, well jane sure as hell can, but not one of the guys! why would you do that to our poor little hearts!??

mindchemicals mindchemicals
4/17/14

@mindchemicals
Thanks :) x I'm glad your enjoying it x

ThatGeekJess ThatGeekJess
4/15/14

Damn that was so worth the wait!! :)

mindchemicals mindchemicals
4/15/14

@frommars
Thank you so much! :) xxx

ThatGeekJess ThatGeekJess
4/15/14