It was dark outside, and rain was pouring down from the night’s heavy clouds. I stared at my shoes as they splashed through the puddles on the asphalt. Despite the stormy conditions it was remarkably hot outside.
I continued down the unknown street for what seemed like a long time. I wasn’t entirely sure where I was going, or even where I was, but I felt exceedingly compelled to keep moving, and quickly.
Finally, I came across something interesting. It was a figure, standing in the middle of the road. My heart sped up with the initial uneasiness of coming across a stranger in a seemingly secluded place. Yet, my legs continued to carry me closer. As I got nearer, I suddenly recognized who it was. Ray. He was pale, and wet, and beautifully alive. I smiled at him and started running to meet him. When I reached him, I pulled him into a tight embrace. I was shocked at how cold his skin was for being out in the heat and humidity. When he didn’t hug me back I removed myself and stared into his eyes. He seemed content. I was ecstatic.
“Ray. I can’t believe it’s you.” I said quietly. The contentment immediately drained from his face. He was angry. I took a step back and gave him a bewildered look.
“I am NOT Ray Toro. THAT is Ray Toro!” He shouted at me, as he pointed a finger to the side of the road. There, on the sidewalk was what seemed to be another Ray. He was on the ground, convulsing sporadically, with blood trickling from his nose and mouth. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move. I looked back at the Ray who was standing in the road, only, he looked less like Ray this time. He eyes had gone dark and his skin seemed to be grey now, with his bones pressing up against his it in sharp angles. He smiled at me, flashing his wicked, pointed teeth.
“What have you done to poor Ray Toro, Frankie?” He growled. I forced my trembling legs to move, and backed away from the monster. I was starting to get some distance between us, until I tripped and fell backwards, splashing into a puddle. The monster in front of me was now taking slow steps toward me. I glanced at the Ray on the sidewalk. He was now nothing more than a lifeless body. I shifted my attention back to the creature advancing on me. I couldn’t get up, I was paralyzed with fear.
It was now very close to me, and I could hear the deep, guttural noises it was making, like growling before its prey. It crouched down to my level, its face only inches from mine. I screamed.

I woke up to the sound of my own voice shouting for help. My entire body was trembling and sweaty. It took me a while to catch my breath and calm down, my heart rate eventually returning to normal. I looked at my alarm clock; it was 6:42. Both of my parents were already at work, and I was alone in the house. I decided it would be useless to try to go back to sleep, so I got up to take a shower.
The warm water reminded me of my dream, which is exactly was I was trying not to think about. The guilt was killing me. I doubted I could ever handle losing my best friend. But losing my best friend, while knowing that I had played a part in his death? That was something else entirely. I felt like I was drowning. I felt like I deserved to drown.
I got out of the shower, dried off, and got dressed, all without ever once looking at myself in the mirror. It was bad enough I had to live with myself. How could I stand to see myself?
I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with the day. I was completely alone. I eventually decided that I was just going to have to learn how to entertain myself as best as possible, because that’s what I would likely be doing all summer.
I spent the day messing around in my room, watching movies, reading comic books and playing guitar. Nothing was working to distract my mind. Everywhere I looked and in everything I did, I could only see pieces of my Ray. I couldn’t watch any movie that I owned without being reminded of watching it with him. I couldn’t read any comic book without being reminded of our weekly trips to the comic book shop. And hell, even just looking at my guitar made me sick. I knew all too well that Ray Toro became a god when he was holding a guitar. It made me miserable to think the all of that talent had been wiped off of the Earth.
I moved my guitar to the back of my closet where I wouldn’t have to see it, and then sat down on my bed. The failure of the day weighed heavily on my mind, and I could almost hear every object in my room screaming “this will never get any easier”. I was driving myself mad. I couldn’t deal with this. I couldn’t. It was going to kill me.
I lay back on my bed and closed my eyes. I thought back to the funeral a few days ago. That had been a hard day. And so far, the days have only gotten harder. I wondered what I would feel like a week from now. I couldn’t possibly imagine feeling any worse. Maybe I wouldn’t even be alive in a week.
I opened my eyes again. I had to do something. I had to find a way to fix myself, even just a little bit. I sat back up, and pulled my phone out of my pocket. I took a deep breath, scrolled down to Mikey Way and pressed the dial button. As it was ringing I thought of what I was going to say when he answered and I couldn’t think of a single damn thing.
“Hello?” Mikey sounded even more serious over the phone. I still couldn’t think of anything to say, or how to explain that this was a literal call for help. I stayed silent. I thought that this was a dumb idea, and eventually he would just hang up.
“Hello?...Frank?” His voice changed from annoyed to concerned in an instant. I took another deep breath.
“Yeah…uh. Hi, Mikey.” I said. I knew I sounded embarrassingly pathetic, but that was out of my control.
“Hey, Frank! How are you? Are you okay?” He asked quickly, as if I was in immediate life-threatening danger. After a moment of dead quietness, all I managed to say was a small “no.”
“Right. I was worried about this. Listen, I’m not really much help in this situation.” He said. That upset me. Why the hell had he even bothered giving me his number then?
“But…I do know somebody who I think could help. See, my brother took it really hard when we lost our grandmother. He…has a therapist. Really helped him out. I think maybe it would be worth it for you to see this guy.” Mikey was talking gently and convincingly.
I thought about his offer. See a therapist? I had never considered it. What would my parents think? I was certain that they didn’t have any clue about how bad I was doing. I tried to picture my mother or father taking me to go see a therapist. No, it didn’t really seem right. They would never go for the idea. They would tell me that I’m fine. That I’m just acting like a child. I could hear my father saying “It’s in the past and you oughtta move on.” That’s what he told me when my childhood dog passed away. And if my mother never cared enough to sort out her own problems, I knew she’d never be any help with mine. Besides, they would never want to spend the time or the money.
“Mikey… I don’t really think that’s an option for me. My parents wouldn’t go for it.” I said gloomily.
“Well… why don’t I just have Gerard take you tomorrow? You tell your parents you’re going to hang out with some friends, Gerard takes you to meet this guy, and everything works out fine.” He said, happily. His optimism was almost overwhelming.
“Mikey… I… This is weird, Okay?” I muttered.
“Frank, I think you need help. So let’s get you some help, yeah?” He said, eagerly.
“Mikey…”
“Gerard will be there at 10 A.M. tomorrow, ok?”
“Wait, Mikey…I don’t know ab- Wait. How do you know where I live?”
“The internet is a great and scary place, Frank.”
“Mikey, I don’t know about this…”
“10 A.M. Don’t forget. Bye, Frank!”
“Mikey wait!” The line went dead. I set my phone down on the bed beside me. 10 A.M. tomorrow. Therapy.
Maybe Mikey was right. Maybe I did need help. In fact, I knew he was right. There was no possibility of me healthily living through what was happening in my mind if I suffered through it completely alone. There was really only the option of seeking help. But I doubted if even that would be of any use at all. Nobody could reverse what had happened, and that fact alone made me feel completely hopeless.
And really, it seemed like a silly idea that I could go talk to some professional and magically start to feel better. The fact would always remain that I was almost entirely responsible for Ray Toro’s death.
I pictured myself as an old man, with many years separating myself from the incident. Would I still be sad about it? Would I still feel responsible? Yeah, probably. Hopeless.
But if it made Mikey feel like he had saved some sad, pitiful soul, I guess I would go. Not that I really had a choice in the matter now. At 10 o’clock in the morning, his brother- what was his name again?- would be here to take me to some other stranger that was supposed to fix me. What a strange situation to be in. It was humiliating. I barely knew Mikey, and I didn’t know his brother at all, and I had already become their charity case. Pathetic. I had thought, only ten minutes ago, that it was impossible to feel worse about myself, yet here I was. Damn.
I lay down on the bed again, and buried my face in my pillow. 10 A.M. tomorrow. I wasn’t even sure how this was going to work out logistically. Was Mikey going to call and make an appointment himself? Did I need to bring money for this appointment? I had quite a bit of money saved up, so I planned on bringing it with me, just in case. I couldn’t believe I was going along with this.
What exactly did I just get myself into?
I groaned into my pillow, before looking at my alarm clock. 8:27 P.M. I picked up the clock and set my alarm for 9:00 A.M.

Notes

Something that really bothers me:
Lay: to set something down (I lay my clothes out)
Lie: to lay yourself down (I lie down on the bed)
HOWEVER, the past tense of lay is laid and the past tense of lie is lay, which is where it gets tricky. The more you know.
Anyways, it's about to really get interesting. Let me know what you think!