Dead- Part 4

Dead
By Gennia and Alice

Chapter 4

I closed my eyes, trying to get those awful pictures out of my head. God! Did those idiots have any fuckin idea what they were putting us through?! C’mon Jay pull yourself together! Man, seeing the way Brian broke down when Kev had hugged him made me want to start crying all over again, and I just wanted to run over there and hug them too…but I couldn’t. Those two cops called me back in. I glared at them from behind my sunglasses. These guys really need to get a clue! Do they think just by asking me the same fuckin’ questions over and over again will undo eveything?!

"Mr. Mclean?" The guy looked at me weirdly, startled by my sudden outburst. Damn it! I didn’t even know I had said that out loud.

"Listen. I’m sorry about that and about not being able to help you. But can I please fuckin go home now? I’m tired of all of this and I’ve already told you everything I know. And I don’t want to look at anymore pictures of Nick’s…" My voice cracked involutarily. Shit…My eyes were starting to water again.

"Mr. Mclean, we’re sorry, but this really is necessary. We know how hard this must be for you." He put a comforting hand on my shoulder. I pushed it off.

"Like hell you do! If you did have any fuckin clue about what this is like for us, you would have stopped. You would be fuckin crying with us right now. Nick was like our little bro. There’s no damn way you would know what he meant to us. Questioning us like criminals! How can you even think about one of us killing him?!" The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could think about what I was saying. But I didn’t care. It didn’t matter what I said to those creeps. Nick was dead…that lil’ blond brat that would never shut up was dead. How could he just leave us?

The two guys were silent as I sat there, trying to calm down. ‘He’s not dead.’ The words rang in my mind. My word had been so final it seemed as if they were true. Maybe if I said that enough I would believe it and then everyone else would believe it. And if everyone believed it then it had to be true, and Nick would come back to us. This was all just a stupid prank Nick was trying to pull on us. We would throw him that party or have his funeral and he’d show up and laugh at us for falling for his ‘master creation.’ Yeah! That was it! Nick was just pulling another one of his stupid pranks! He wasn’t really dead! He probably also wanted some down time, so he faked his death…like… like that Tom Sawyer guy! That lil’ son of a bitch! Did he know what kind of hell he was putting all of us through?!!! When he comes back, I’m gonna kick his lil’ ass!!! I looked up at the policemen. They looked so somber though, and there was so much sympathy in their eyes. The photo of Nick’s battered body was on the table. I glanced at it, for probably the thousandth time today. It was so real…

"Mr. Mclean, we’re done questioning. You may go home now." I nodded without really hearing what they said. All I could see as I slowly walked to my car was Nick’s mutilated body. He was a corpse…another classic E Hollywood story…just another episode of Behind the Music. I got in my car, and started the engine. Friday night they said, huh? Yep, last Friday, supposingly the night of Nick’s murder. I should have been with him instead of…instead of what? Where was I? I frowned unconsiously, trying to remember, but only resulted in drawing a complete blank. In fact, I don’t remember much of what happened all week, what on earth did I tell the police? Damn…the guy never said that powder shit affects memories.

Dear Journal,

I had a nightmare last night. It is the worst one yet. Something wasn’t right about it, it seemed almost too real; I can still feel the coolness of the metal and picture that face. I was locked in a jail cell, it was so dark. But still, I saw clearly the rusty metal bars in front of me. They were unaturally thick and strong, no matter how much I shook they wouldn’t budge. I remember screaming that I needed to get out. But all I heard was my own echo, bouncing upon the errie silence. When I turned around, I saw bunk beds. The ones you always see in movies. It was so dark, I could only make out the outlines of the beds. I moved closer and sat down. But when I did, he was there, siting right next to me. His form was extremely still, just siting there with his head hanging low. He looked sad, tired maybe? I tried calling out his name, but he wouldn’t respond. The figure just sat there with his hands resting gently in his lap, like a statue. I reached out to touch him, but when my fingers brushed against his arm his head suddently snapped directly toward me. Two inky pools of pure blackness stared calmly back at me, its contents swirling. I gasped, I don’t think I have seen anything so black, yet so shiny. They were perfectly round, no depth, like two solid balls of black ink. Then his mouth started moving, the corner of his lips dragged down his face like melting clay. He parted those deformed lips, only to reveal a black hole that spreaded until it covered the bottom half of his pallor face. I expected him to scream, explode, anything! But he just stared with his ebony marbles and that endless tunnel of a mouth. He looked surprisingly sorrowful, even though those dark orbs couldn’t have possibily showed any emotions. The look of pure sadness made my heart sting with guilt. I wanted to ask him what was wrong. But I didn’t have to, I knew the answer perfectly well. Because I was the one who killed him.