It's Not Over

After along time trying to process that statement in my head I narrowed my eyes at the pale figure.

"Prove it." I challenged.

"m'kay." he shrugged before he disappeared into thin air, before reappearing right behind me and scaring the living shit out of me.

"w-wow. That's intense" I stared wide eyed.

He nodded and flopped down onto my bed and exhaled deeply. It quickly got awkwardly silent as I tried to comprehend the thoughts that were racing through my head. I bit my lip in concentration. So...ghosts do exist? That's crazy. And scary. I don't know how to feel about this. Should I be scared or excited? I wonder how he died. I probably shouldn't ask, that might be a depressing conversation.

I looked back up and Gerard was gone, all that was left was a cold air in the room. I for some reason felt an empty feeling or longing sensation in my heart. I whimpered at the feeling, it was rather unpleasant and I really wanted it to go away, so I walked over to my backpack and pulled out a tall glass object. Ahhhhh my bong. This should help. I found my little baggy of weed and loaded the tall pipe. I pulled out my lighter and sparked it up, inhaling and taking a long rip from the bong. I felt the herbal smoke fill my lungs, and immediately I was at ease.

I kept toking up for a good twenty minutes, but the thought of Gerard never left my head. Was this normal? I mean, I've been put in a strange situation, involving a supernatural entity, is it normal that the thoughts are sticking in my brain? I was feeling really numb and light headed, so I set the bong on the bedside table and layed down on the bare mattress. I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. Fuuuuuck. I'm baked as fuck, but yet the empty longing feeling is still there, gnawing at my soul.

The room was still spinning but yet I still got up and walked over to one of my other bags. If this feeling isn't gonna go away, then I'm gonna make it go away. I pulled out a small bottle of Oxycodon and a tall bottle of Smirnoff ice that I stole from my beast of a father a few days ago. I opened the Oxycodon and took five of them, washing them down with the vodka. Probably not the best idea in the world but damn did it feel good.

I stumbled back over to my bed and flopped down on my back. My head started to feel fuzzy and I was becoming numb beyond comprehension. My high was peaking and I backed it up with another swig of vodka. This continued for a while before my vision started to blur and it was becoming increasingly hard to keep my eyes open. I realized the feeling was gone, and was indeed, fucking wasted.

I smiled at the fact that the last thing I saw before I passed out was Gerard picking up a misfits blanket and laying it over my limp body.

Why is he so nice?

I like it.

Notes

Well she just got really fucked up. Smoking, drinking, and poppin pills. Damn son.


~Ember