Billababe (the_mourning) wrote in bunnyficcorner,
Billababe
the_mourning
bunnyficcorner

Ghost Of You


Title: Ghost of You
Author:</a></b></a>the_mourning 
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: not true, never happened, don't hurt me O.o
warnings: Death, yelling, shooting (that's all i can say with out giving it way, nothing bad, really, i promise!)
AN: origonally a short(coughcough-long-coughcough) story for my english class, this was how it was ment to be :D
Coments = <3
Summary:  I could hear them hunting for me, calling ‘Laddie!’ and things like that. Soon, all was quiet, spare the sound of my own heavy breathing.
I don’t know what made me do it, and perhaps never will, but I shot into the street again and saw them all standing a little was down from me.
I almost made it into the next street, one with cars and people and lights.
Almost.

~Frank~

I woke on the morning -- well actually it was night. I’d gotten used to Gerard’s schedule, for he worked nights - -of my twentieth birthday, alone. 

I sighed heavily and rolled out of bed, He must’ve already left; I thought to myself as I gathered some clothes and stepped into the bathroom of our small loft to take a quick shower.

Close to half an hour later I was out, shaking the water out of my short deep brown hair as I walked in to the kitchen to get something to eat, cereal maybe, I found a note on the table.

                                Frank,

Sorry honey, but I had to leave a bit early so I could get off a work at a decent hour, and I didn’t want to wake you.

                                                            XOXO

                                                                         G.

Oh, he was so sweet sometimes. I smiled a little as I made my breakfast, a wondered what time he’d actually left.

Then I made the decision that I was going to find a job myself.

But not today.

Your birthday is not the day to go looking for a job, so I settled in for the several hours wait before my fiancé got home.

 

~Gerard~

                I was very tired by the time I got off work, I‘d woken 3 hours early, so I could be home at a decent hour to celebrate with Frank. After work, I hopped in my black Camry and headed home.

                I’d bought a guitar for his, a week ago. I knew he has always wanted one and I’ve been saving for the last year to get one. It was s fairly nice one, going by what I knew about guitars (which wasn’t all that much, believe me).

                I pulled into the parking lot of our building, and yanked the slightly weighty box out of my trunk and proceeded to carry it up the stairs, careful not to bang in on anything on the way up.

I knocked lightly on the outside door, once I had reached the top of the stairs. Moments later, Frank threw open the door, immediately taking notice of the long box in my arms. Even though it was wrapped I knew, he’d know what it was. He’d been looking at these for as long as I’d known his.

“Oh my gosh! You didn’t!” Frank squeaked out excitedly.

 I chuckled under my breath, as I stepped inside, “I did though.”

The entire time he had been trying to snatch the box out of my hands, and I finally let it go when we were inside.

I watched as Frank tore at the paper, revealing the cardboard box that explained the type of guitar and what it looked like. It was shiny and metallic purple – his favourite colour- accompanied with a black neck and had silver gadgets adorning it, none of which I knew the names.

“How long have you been saving for this? This model must’ve cost a fortune!”

“What, is it too expensive for your tastes?” I laughed, sliding up next to his on the couch.

“No, this is just about the coolest guitar in the entire world!”

I burst out laughing at that. Frank shook his head at me as grabbed hold of the box again, flipping it upside down, spilling the remaining contents on to the floor.

 There were three rolled up cords, a tuner, several picks in a clear, crinkly plastic bag, and a bundled up thing, which the box indicated to be a case.

“Now the only thing I need is a stand!”

“It’s in the trunk.” 

“Oh, you’re awesome! I love you, Gee!” Frank yelled in jubilance, wrapping his thin arms around my neck, and pressing a warm kiss to my lips.

“I love you, too,” I murmured, nuzzling our foreheads together.

 

*Several Hours later- 8a.m.*

~Frank~

“Why is there never anything on in the mornings, why?” I grumbled, tiredly. I’d gotten used to there not being anything on ever, but it still irked me sometimes.

“I dunno, sweetheart, but I’m gonna catch some Z’s,” Gerard mumbled. I had forgotten he’d woken up early.

I turned over in his arms, rearranging the now twisted blankets, and brushed a few stray strands of his almost shoulder length pitch black hair, out of his face.

“G’night, Gee,” I said softly, pecking him on the cheek, and snuggling in further to his warm embrace.

And people wondered how I could sleep in just a tank top and shorts through the whole winter. It’s easy when the person you’re sleeping with radiates heat like the freaking sun.

“Night, Frankie, I love you.” I heard Gerard’s voice muffled by my hair, as we both drifted towards unconsciousness.

*****

“Why do you want to? I mean we’ve got more than enough money as we are?”

I sighed. This is how it had started. I’d brought up that I wanted to go and look for a job today.

“Because it would be easier on you, and I tired of sitting around here doing nothing all day!” I retorted rather loudly.

I t was his turn to sigh.

“I know you get bored, you only tell me that all the time, but is you really want to I won’t stop you. I don’t see any harm in it, I guess.”

“Alright then, I’ll see you later, okay? I love you.” I reached up and pressed our lips lightly together, before I stepped out the door, grabbing my jacket.

I started the car, and pulled out of the small parking lot, and into the street, after about ten minutes, I was finally in the busy Chicago streets. I pulled into the lot of a small hobby store I’ve always wanted to work at. I stepped inside of the bland looking building and into a world of whimsical creatures and models of trains, airplanes, and space ships, card games, board games, puzzles. Anything you can possibly do for fun, it was there.

I strode up to the counter, behind which stood a teenage boy with deep red hair, almost a blood colour.

“Can I have an application,” I paused looking at his name tag; it read ‘Matt’ , “Matt?”

He looked at me curiously, and muttered a, “sure.” So quietly I could barely here his reply.

“Thanks much!” I walked out the door to the whimsical world and into the beautiful night outside. It was only about nine ’o‘ clock, so I was only going to get applications for the jobs with odd hours anyway, so if I possibly could, I’d work the same hours as Gerard. That was the best case scenario.

I slid into the driver’s seat and cranked the ignition. From there I drove to the nearest street lined with shops and other small stores. I parked, slipping two hours worth of change into the parking meter.

I headed down the street, pat brilliantly lit shops, however, most of them were dark, and I stopped at a music shop, specializing in guitars, I stepped in, and picked up and application (obviously). A ways down, there was a costume shop.

That’d be fun I thought and stopped in there too.

When I left there I had that weird feeling that I was being followed. I’d had that feeling since the guitar shop.

I turned my head a bit and saw nothing to induce suspicion, so I kept walking.

That creepy makes-the-hair-on-the-back-of-your-neck-stand-up feeling persisted. So, just to see, I kept walking past all the shops. Now I was on a street lined with almost foreboding back of brick buildings and dank, damp, dirty alleys.

Yet that feeling was still there.

I whipped around and could’ve swore I saw something disappear into and alley. This was about when all the horror movies I’d ever seen flashed through my mind, and it was seriously scaring me.

All I could hear as I took a few blind steps backward was the sound of my own pounding pulse.

A few more steps back, I hit something that was positively not brick. I gulped, terrified, and looked up.

There, standing behind me, was a man. He was tall, had a shaved head, and looked like he hadn’t shaved in a week. His eyes looked black in the half light. I was all the more scared knowing what I was up against.

“’Ello, girly.”

That was all I needed to hear. I bolted forward, away from the man. I got maybe two buildings down, before two more guys stepped out of one of the grimy passageways.

I was trapped.

“No where to run, laddie-boy.” The man behind me called in a low voice, the two ahead of me bore that same vile smirk.

No where I run my butt, I thought and bolted straight across the street, attempting to get into the next through the alleys.

I made it that far, but I knew I wasn’t going to get much further.

There were angry shouts and growls coming from behind me.

I skidded back into the alley I’d come from, and ducked behind and old, cleverly placed, mildew coved, torn up couch.

Not smart.

I could hear them hunting for me, calling ‘Laddie!’ and things like that. Soon, all was quiet, spare the sound of my own heavy breathing.

I don’t know what made me do it, and perhaps never will, but I shot into the street again and saw them all standing a little was down from me.

I almost made it into the next street, one with cars and people and lights.

Almost.

Half way down this third grimy walkway, I heard even angrier yells and a tremendous bang.

Then a mind-blowing pain in my back.

I cried out as I fell onto the pavement, skinning my palms.

I looked down at my bloodstained shirt, judging from where the blood was pouring out, I knew I’d gotten shot in the stomach, which is the second worst place to get shot. At a maximum you have about twenty minutes to live before the acid burns away your insides. Happy, eh?

It’s amazing how all this thinking went on in under a second. I fell limp, hoping they’d think I was dead and leave me alone, or not shoot me again to make sure I wasn’t going anywhere.

They did nothing if they knew I was alive, just retreated back from whence they came.

I groaned loudly, when a burning sensation crept into my abdomen.

 

~Gerard 9PM~

                I paced around the small loft with anxious steps. Frank had been gone for nearly twelve hours without a word, which was so completely unlike his. I was worried beyond words, and I had the ever worsening feeling that something bad had happened

A while later, I picked up the phone and continued pacing as I dialled.

An officer answered on the second ring.

“My fiancé is missing.” I couldn’t believe the calmness in my voice, I sure as hell didn’t feel that way.

“Okay, how long has he been gone?”

“Almost thirteen hours.”

The officer sighed, “You know we can’t do anything until it’s been at least twenty-four hours, right?”

“I know,” I was getting frustrated now, “but it’s so unlike his. He would’ve at least called by now...”

“Yeah, well, I’ll tell you what, give me your names and I’ll put them in the system so we don’t have to do it later. Sound good?”

“Um, okay.”

“So I need his name.”

“Frank Iero.”

“And yours?”

“Gerard Way.”

“When did Frank leave?”

“Around nine last night.”

“Okay, and your phone number?”

I rattled it off.

“Alright, Mr. Way, I think that’s all for now.”

“Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome,” then he hung up.

I sighed again, and flipped the phone onto the couch. Soon after I crawled into bed, knowing I would only get a little sleep if any.

 

~A Few Hours Later~

 

I awoke a few hours later, hoping desperately to see Frank asleep next to me.

No such luck.

I glanced at the clock, which glared “1:07 PM” in angry red digits back at me.

I groaned. There were still eight more hours until I could do anything about my missing fiancé. I flopped back down onto my bed, pulling the blankets over my head, wishing the world away.

Which, of course, never works.

Instead I had myself wondering where he’d be, most of the conclusions I came to weren’t happy ones, when I factored in that he hadn’t called.

By the time 9:01 came around, I was on the phone again. It was the same officer as before.

“Alright, Mr. Way, we can actually do something now. Where’s the last place you saw his?”

“Here, at home,” I rattled off the address.

“Do you know what he left for?”

“To pick up some job applications.”

“Do you know where he was going?”

“ Not really, only that it wasn’t far away.”

“Hmm, well, we’ll call you if we need anything else.”

“M’kay.”

Dead line.

I hated this, waiting and not knowing what was going to happen next, I absolutely hated it.

I yawned widely, as I set the phone back in its cradle.

All my mind wanted to do was sleep, so I succumbed to it, falling deep into oblivion.

~Sever Hours Later~

“Gerard...”

I shot straight up in bed. Someone else was here, I could feel it, and I could’ve sworn I heard my name being whispered.

I scrambled out of bed, slipping on a shirt as I did so, checking around the loft. There wasn’t much place to hide in this small place anyway, it wouldn’t be hard to find someone if they were hiding here.

I found no one.

“Gerard...” It was barely there, but I heard it.

I whipped around, and for a split second, I thought I’d seen something.

It had been a wavy shape almost as if it had been underwater, but unmistakably, strangely familiar.

I slid across the room, snatching up the remote from the table as I did so, and flipped on the news.

I stared on in awe and utter dread at what I saw.

They were talking about a new murder case that had initiated after finding a body in an alley only about fifteen minutes from here. The anchor was saying that the victims name wasn’t available yet.

I leaned over and snatched up the phone, and started to dial the police station again, but the phone rang mid-dialling.

“Mr. Way?”

“This is.”

“This is Officer Rick Cooper, I am working on the case involving your girlfriend’s murder. We need you to come identify his body, if you will.”

I was silent for almost a solid minute.

“Where is he?” My voice sounded weak and defeated, even to me.

“St. Elizabeth’s Hospital,” Officer Cooper said, accompanied by the address, which I barely registered, but scribbled down.

“Alright, I’ll be there soon.” I wasn’t sure how soon soon was, but it’d be within the next hour.

I showered in a daze; I don’t think the reality had sunk in yet, that my Frankie was actually dead. Gone. Nonexistent.

I arrived at the hospital in the same trance-like state, as I was ushered through the sickly sterile hospital to the morgue.

I knew it was his as soon as I saw the body under that sheet. His right wrist was sticking out from under it, and I could see the thin red stitch-mark tattoo winding its way around it.

We used to laugh at how many people would ask what had happed, and we’d always make up particularly bizarre stories about it, they were different every time. we laughed so hard at the time Frank said he’d gotten it cut off during World War II, and sewed it back on. The lady we told that to, got so pissed off it was unbelievable.

It was just sinking in that that would never happen again, as they peeled back the crisp white sheet, revealing his pallid face.

I saw the promise ring I gave him that he put on a chain around his neck after we got engaged, it was still there.

“Can I…?” was all that would come out of my mouth, so I motioned toward the necklace.

Officer Cooper nodded at me, a deep look of sympathy in his gray eyes.

I reached down, my shaking fingers – I wasn’t sure when that had started, it could’ve been going on the entire time—skimming against his cool flesh at the base of his throat as I undid the catch.

I wound the chain around my knuckles, the ring resting in my closed fist, as the officer asked me if I wanted his engagement ring, too.

I shook my head viciously, that was his and always would be.

Officer Cooper looked at me oddly. Did he think I wanted them for money value? I only wanted the necklace so I would always have a physical part of him with me.

Suddenly I felt something warm hit my bare arm. I looked down and watched the little drop roll its way off my forearm, and drop off onto the white sheet, staining it with its wetness.

“You can go now, Mr…” He paused, “Gerard. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

I glanced briefly up upon hearing my first name, and actually held his gaze for a few seconds before I dropped my eyes again, and I nodded, stepping back, and turning away from my deceased fiancé.

Officer Cooper caught me one last time on my way to my car.

“I’m really sorry to keep bothering you, but I need to know if it’s alright to put Frank’s name in the news or not.”

I just stared at his for a bit, before muttering and ‘I don’t care,’ and sliding into my car.

Officer Cooper sighed, “You do care, I know you do. Just don’t do anything irrational, okay?”

“Whatever.”

To tell you the truth, I didn’t care much, I was kind of numb.

The officer opened his mouth, but if he said something I didn’t hear his over the roar of the engine. I pulled out of the parking lot, and drove home, the necklace chain still cutting into my fingers.

When I got home, I unwound the chain, staring down at the angry red creases on my fingers. I almost enjoyed the pain it caused, it kind of helped me feel like this was all real, and not some horrid nightmare I wished desperately to wake from.

Seconds later, I had the chain around my neck, clasped there, the ring reflecting the soft lamp light from the bedside table next to me.

 

~Four Days Later~

 

In the past four days I continued to hear my name whispered and I could’ve sworn, on a few occasions, someone had been standing next to or behind me.

It was Thursday, and it was the first day I actually went to work all week. I arrived home, exhausted, I flopped down aimlessly onto my bed, staring at the cracked ceiling for several long minutes.

Then I glanced quickly to the side, expecting to see the same grey, blurred shape as always, but this time it was different. Very different.

It was Frank, the same as I last saw his alive, except he was almost see through, like he wasn’t actually there, yet he was… kind of, it’s hard to explain.

He was wearing grey, deconstructed jeans, a purple and black stripped shirt underneath a black t-shirt.

I sat up, thinking it was just me wishing he was here, a figment of my sleep deprived, overactive imagination.

He was still there, gazing at me patiently.

“Frank…?” I was more than a little weirded out by this. Two days ago I watched them put Frank in the ground. There was no way possible this was actually happening.

Unless, of course, I was losing my mind, that was far more likely.

He nodded silently, taking an equally silent step towards me.

“What do you want? You’re dead.” My voice came out far more flat and apathetic than I’d intended it to be.

“I want you to help me.” Her voice was distant sounding, but Frank’s none-the-less.

“With what?” I lowered my voice, these walls were quite thin, everyone else didn’t need to know I was losing it too.

“Find out who did this to me. To you.”Frank took a few more steps toward me, so now he was right next to me.

“What are you? I mean, how are you still here?” My voice was only slightly louder than a whisper now.

Frank was silent for awhile, as if thinking.

“You know, Gee, I don’t know. I ‘spose I’m a ghost or something.”

“Can I touch you?”

“I… I don’t know.” Frank held out an ashen hand to me. I held mine out too, mine went straight through his.

“Wait. I want to try something else.”Frank murmured, pulling back his hand. Looking as if concentrating exceptionally hard, as he reached towards me again, I felt his ice-cold hand against mine.

“It looks like I have to concentrate on something to physically touch it.”

“So you can pick stuff up then?”

“I dunno.” Frank reached across me, to the table, and picked up a ball point pen, “Yup.”

I nodded, and picked up the phone.

“South Chicago Heights Police Department,” an officer answered.

“Uh, hi, can I speak to Officer Cooper?” I asked, in a calm voice.

“Yeah, sure, just a moment, Mr…?”

“Gerard, just tell him that, he’ll know.”

“Alright, Gerard…”

A moment or two later I hear the officer’s familiar voice.

“Hello?”

“Officer Cooper?”

“Gerard? What is it you wanted?”

“I want to help with the investigation.”

There was a long pause after I said that. I almost thought he hung up on me when he spoke, startling me a bit.

“I don’t know that we can allow that…”

“All I want to do is help. No guns, no bursting into people’s houses, nothing like that. Just helping track this guy down.” I glanced over at ghost-Frank as I said this.

Officer Cooper sighed, “I’ll see what I can do, I can’t guarantee anything, though, okay Gerard?”

“Uh, yeah, sounds great actually. “

“Okay, well I’ll talk to you later than. Bye.” Officer Cooper said, and hung up.

I was wondering if he was actually going to check, when Frank spoke up.

“He’s gonna check, just so you know. He wants to work with you.”

“You can read minds too?” I was more than a little surprised now.

“Kinda, only certain people, though.” Frank laughed a bit.

“Err… okay, so where do we start?”

“You should turn on the news. It’s a pain to try to get people to do things when they can’t see nor hear you. I was amazed when you actually turned on the TV a few days ago.

“And I could tell you what I remember, which isn’t much, believe me, but it could help.”

“How could I get that in the case? It’s not really evidence.”

“Yeah, well, ah, I could try to track them down; you can move a whole lot faster without physics holding you down. Wait. That made it sound like I enjoy being dead, which is not the case.” Frank rambled, “Well, you catch up on the news. I’ll be back, I promise.”

His fingers ghosted (puns, how I do hate them…) across my cheek, and faded into the wall behind me. I sighed and flipped on the TV, pulling a notebook from under my bed, flipping to the first blank page.

 

~Two Days Later~

 

“You’re on the team.”Officer Cooper was telling me over the phone early Saturday morning.

“Awesome, but what am I supposed to so about my other job?”

I had over two week vacation, Frank and I never went anywhere that required it.

“Well, use whatever vacation you have, and call in sick if you need to, but please don’t tell anyone what you’re up to, unless it’s one hundred percent necessary.”

 “Yeah, I think I’ll be able to take care of it. What time do you want me in?”

“Between eight and eight-thirty, so around now would be good. That’s about when I usually get in, it’ll probably be helpful for me to be here whilst you’re here, some of the guys didn’t like the idea, and still don’t, but I told them to suck it up.”

“Alright, eight’ o’ clock tomorrow, I will be there. Goodbye Officer Cooper.”

“Gerard, you can call me Rick. Anyways, bye.”

Dead line.

Okay, so I was officially on the case now, and I knew a considerable amount of info already from Frank. I was probably further ahead than they were.

I flopped back, onto the bed where Frank was sitting, staring longingly at his guitar.

“You do not know how bad I want to play that. It hurts my head from concentrating so hard just to hold the darn thing, more-less play it.” he sighed utterly defeated.

“When’d you try?” he hadn’t while I was here, I knew that.

“While you were at work.”

“I have to call into work yet, I should do that now.”

I dialled the number and waited.

~Several Days into The Investigation~

Now we just need to know what this arsehole looks like.” Kevin (Officer McClone) growled in his faint British accent. “We’ve got everything else on ‘im, we just need to find the pansy.”

“True dat.” I agreed.

We were in the police curser headed back from the site, Rick was driving, Kevin next to his, and Frank and me in the backseat, though to everyone else, it was just me back there.

“Hey,” I asked suddenly, “Do either of you believe in ghosts?”

There was quite a long pause after that, spare the barely audible hum of the radio which I was positive no one could actually hear. Kevin spoke up first.

“I’m not one for believin’ too much in ghost stories, laddie.” I was assuming that was a no.

“You know, I’ve never really thought about it until now,” Rick was saying, “I ‘spose they do to some extent.”

My gazed flickered over to Frank sitting beside me, giggling madly by now.

He found it absolutely hilarious that both of them were basically denying the existence of ghosts, with one sitting right there. I shook my head and thought about what we already knew.

We found a gun with fingerprints all over it some ways down a nearby street; none of them were in the database though.

We’d found two people who briefly saw/heard the shooting, thanks to Frank, and that helped get a sketch out. It was only a matter of time now, until we caught the guy.

I leaned down and pulled my bag into my lap, tugging out a notebook and pen.

‘Are you gonna leave after all this is over?’ I scribbled.

“I don’t know, it kind of feels that way.” He murmured, wrapping and ice-cold hand around my left one.

‘I don’t want you to go,’ I wrote quickly, a few letters blending together, ‘I didn’t want you to go the first time, more-less a second. God only knows what it’ll do to me…’

Frank looked quite sad after that last one. “I know. I don’t exactly want to leave either, I don’t enjoy being dead, but that’s just the way it is.” He sighed, after that, the three (four actually) of us fell into a tense silence, the radio hum more annoying than ever.

A minute later, we were all back at the station and I was so tired, I’d been tired every day this week, this was like my anti-schedule. Entirely backward.

We all piled out, obtained an odd stare for holding open the door for Frank, but oh well.

I climbed into my car, intent on going home and to sleep.

“Have a nice night, Gerard, you too Kevin.” Rick said in farewell.

“You too, night guys.” I replied, and got into my car. We drove home in silence; it was like that all the way up until I got into bed.

“Good night, Gerard, sweet dreams.”Frank muttered from the couch across the room.

“You too, Frank.”

He smiled, “I don’t sleep, Gee.”

I blinked, “Oh, uh, well, good night then?”

“Yeah, I’ll take that.”

“Okay, well ,good night.”

“Just go to sleep, Gerard. It’s blatantly obvious how tired you are. Sleep.”

“Fine.” I rolled onto my stomach, and closed my eyes.

 

~The Next Day~  

 

I drove to the station and after getting past security once again, I made my way to Officer Cooper’s office. I knocked on the door frame as I stepped in.

“Hello, Gerard,” Rick greeted me, “We got a new lead late last night; we might know where this guy lives now.”

“Really? Awesome!” As I spoke, rick slid a few papers toward me, across his desk to the other side where I was sitting in one of the two chairs facing it.

I looked through them quickly.

The suspect’s name was Cyrus Foley, and he lived in the run down, almost slum-like, part of town.

“Alright, so when we checkin’ this guy out?” I was just a tad pumped to finally find this guy, but that would mean Frank would be gone.

I glanced at the chair next to me, where he was sitting sadly.

“Today, hopefully.” Rick Cooper sighed, putting both booted feet on to his desk with a dull thump, “We’ve got to see what Kevin thinks.”

I looked over and Frank again, who nodded, indicating he would give the get go, “Yeah, he’ll want to go.”

A few minutes later, Kevin himself walked in, grinning broadly, “We goin’ or are we just gonna sit on our butts all day?”

I smirked, standing.

Close to half an hour later, we were at this guy’s doorstep.

The apartment building was gross, and filthy. Grime covered everything.

“I know I said I wouldn’t give you one of these, but you could need it.” Officer Cooper said looking me carefully in the eyes, pulling out a second hand gun from his belt. He and Officer McClone already had theirs out.

“Okay.” I nodded, taking it gingerly.

Then, Kevin, who was the closest, pounded loudly on the rusting steel door.

“Police! Open up!”

He jumped back, he was still the closest, I was the furthest away, directly across the hallway from the door almost touching the wall behind me.

The hall was still for a moment, before the door swung open slowly.

Foley was standing in the door way, gun in hand, glaring venomously at us.

“Put the gun down.” Rick instructed calmly, motioning at the floor with his own gun, which was now pointed at Foley.

I lifted my own gun toward him; I could feel Frank standing close behind me.

“That’s him....” he whispered sounding terrified.

I returned the murderer’s glare with equal malice. I was now more determined than ever to get this guy now.

“Put the damned gun down!” Kevin shouted, I heard his safety click off, accompanied by Rick’s and my own.

My heart was pounding as Foley looked from Kevin, to me, to Rick, and back to me.

“No.”Cyrus Foley retorted, before raising his own gun.

I heard two shots simultaneously. I wasn’t sure whose they were until I felt a searing pain in the left side of my chest, and fell to my knees at the same time as Foley himself, who looked quite dead.

Just after the shots, I heard a scream.

“NOOO!” it was Frank from behind me.

“Kevin! 911!” I heard Rick shout next.

Whatever Kevin Answered, I didn’t hear his. I couldn’t hear/feel/see/smell/taste anything anymore. Just black.

 

The next thing I saw was two blinding white lights. As my vision cleared, I saw my own body, I was in an operation room. The flat line tone was the most predominant sound in the room, with the muted sounds of shouting surgeons that were bustling around the rooms quickly.

I looked up, away from my dead body and saw Frank pacing back and forth, looking horrified.

“Frank?” I was almost surprised to hear my own voice.

His head snapped up, a strange mix of emotions on his face, happy and sad at the same time.

He stepped toward me, “You didn’t make it.”

“No, apparently not…”

He took my hand, only now instead of being so cold, it was a warm as it used to be.

“Kind of a Catch-22, isn’t it? I mean I’d prefer to be living, but now I’ve got you.”

“I’d prefer you to be living too, but I know we won’t be stuck here anymore.”

With that, he pulled me forward into that great white oblivion.

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