𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ➀

35 LIGHTLESS

"Sean?" Monica says my name for what I think is the third or fourth time, I can't be certain.

My muddled brain responds with a, "huh?" But I still don't snap out of my daze. I can't snap out of it. No, not when I'm just continuously picturing Trevor's dead body on a sick and twisted video loop in my brain. This is about the millionth time it's played since I'd found him.

His mouth covered in vomit with his lifeless blue eyes staring... just staring. I see that image everywhere, especially when I try to get a modicum of sleep. He's just there, haunting me.

Now I've been through my share of bad fucking shit but this was an entirely different type of bad. I've never really lost anyone I've ever cared about because I don't really fucking care about anyone. Those last few moments with Trevor though were some of the hardest in my life.

I'd pulled up a chair after calling 911 and had one last discussion with my dead friend. It might seem like a fucked-up thing to do but I was angry with him. My dead brother, the only person I considered my fucking family, really was dead. He'd broken the promise we'd made to one another.

Logically I knew this wasn't my fault, logically, but sometimes our minds are not logical. What if I would have gotten the first call? The second? What if I would have picked up? What if I would've been there sooner?

What if?

I picture Trevor's dead body in the black bag they had zipped him up in. I think back to all of the times I had seen my mother overdose. They'd been able to revive her pill-riddled body but then she went batshit crazy. Who had been there? Trevor. Trevor had been there for me. Now he had left me in the same way she had tried to so many times.

Life is an ironic bitch.

He had been my one friend through all of the bad shit that has been my life. He'd known all of my personal hell. Trevor had been the one consistent thing in my entire fucking life, the one person I could always count on. When we were teens and that terrible shit happened to me, that terrible fucking experience of being degraded, he had been there. I'd never said the words out loud to him but I knew he knew.

When I would flinch from just a touch, any type of intimate touch disgusted me, he noticed but didn't say anything. He never treated me any differently when I would shudder in revulsion from things normal people would allow. Any time I lost my complete shit because someone put their hands on me he'd always had my back. When I'd start fights, even ones that I knew I couldn't win alone, he'd jump in. He had lived in darkness, just like me. He was my one true friend.

I think back to grade school and all the little memories we'd created. Some of them big memories, like where each of our addiction started because it had started with each other. We had tried and done everything together starting out with dipping into his father's never-ending stash of booze. Eventually our need to numb the world out had gotten us much farther over our heads than we had expected. I had almost overdosed and if Trevor hadn't had been there I would've probably ended up much like he had. Now I was the one who hadn't been there for him.

"Sean?" Monica calls out to me yet again. This time she finally pulls me out of my dark and dreary skull. "Babe, you're freaking me out a bit." She's just standing there looking unsure in her black dress, the one she's wearing to the funeral today.

"I just," I shake my head a few times to rid myself of the images plaguing my mind. "I just..." I can't help but start to cry.

"Shh." Monica wraps her arms around me. "I'm sorry, babe."

I hold her tightly to me, placing my cheek atop her head. She continuously murmurs comforting words softly in my chest as I try to pull myself together. We stay like this for a good ten minutes until I feel like I can finally let her go.

I straighten out my black suit and Monica straightens out her dress, "Let's get this over with."

The wake had been painful enough having to see his dead body in a casket like that. Then seeing all kinds of people who I knew didn't really give a shit about him there to pay their respects like they actually cared about him while he was alive. Fuck every single one of them.

-&-

The service is finally over and I can't wait to get the fuck out of this church. I know, even though he's in a casket, Trevor probably feels the same way. We grew up inside these hypocritical walls and neither of us liked to be here. We both loathed Catholicism. No, no one would lord over either of us.

I stand up in my pew, grabbing Monica's hand as I do and begin to make my way out when I freeze. Oh, fuck that shit. No, he is not fucking here. My fucking father is not fucking here. Unfortunately for me he really is here. He is currently chatting up Trevor's dad as if Trevor himself wasn't dead in a casket right now.

They are both the same fucking terrible individual much like Trevor and I had been besides the fact we didn't beat our wives and laugh about it together, but I digress. Seeing him was enough to set my blood on fire. I fucking hate that man.

"Sean," Monica says up to me as she clings onto my arm "what is it?"

"It's my father." And the exact fucking moment the word left my lips is when he looked our way. He looks over me like he barely recognizes me.

Yeah asshole, I'm not a broken teenage boy you can take a swing at anymore.

"Your father?" Monica whispers out behind me. "Which one?"

"The silver-haired blue-eyed fuck." I am practically trembling with rage right now. How dare he come to Trevor's funeral. How dare he show up in my life again.

"Let's just go."

"Yeah, let's." She unclings herself from my arm and takes ahold of my hand as I lead the two of us forward.

I don't look at him as we start to pass by him but he calls out after me nonetheless, "Not even going to say hello to your old man, Sean?"

I grit my jaw as I stop and turn around, "David." I'm not going to refer to him as anything other than his first name. This man was never a father.

"It's been a long time." Yeah, it has been since that time I almost fucking beat you to death after years of pent up anger. "Who's this lovely woman you have by your side?"

I wrap my arm around Monica protectively, "This is my girlfriend, Monica." And I will never lay my hands on her the way you did my mother.

He looks her over with what looks like approval, "It's nice to meet you, Monica. I'm David, Sean's father."

"Hello David." Monica clings to my side tighter. "We should probably get going to the cemetery." She looks up at me with a sad smile.

"Yes, addiction is such a terrible thing isn't it? You and he were always such troublemakers when you were younger. Well, it appears Trevor still was. Glad you're at least trying to get your life together. You found his body, right?"

I fucking hate this man.

I want to punch him in the face so bad. I'm about to open my mouth to say something when Monica quickly says, "Well maybe if they had had better male role models in their lives growing up the two of them would have known how to behave." His eyes narrow and his face turns red in anger, just like it used to get.

"Let's go, Monica." I keep my arm around her as we walk out the church doors leaving David in a stunned angry silence.

"You look nothing like him." Monica mutters to me as we walk down the steps.

"I know and I couldn't be any fucking happier about it."