Chapter 15 The Note (Red POV)

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(Writer's note: 1000 votes! WOO! Yay :D I've been on the what's hot list for a while now :3 according to discussions in the readers and writers clubs thought thats suppose to mean that it's cliche and badly written :S? Oh well, you all enjoy it right? And that's what mattters :D Unfortunatly I don't think you're gonna enjoy this chapter very much... or the next chapter I have planned for that matter... I'm sorry :( Well- it'd be kinda idiotic to end this note in hope you all enjoy! like I usually do, so hope you all... don't dislike it too much???) 

Chapter 15

The note

~Red

I was excited, more than excited- I felt I could jump out from my skin at any moment. Chris was moving in, I couldn’t wait! We were gonna have so much fun- late movies nights- Raspberry feast- I could take him to my special den again! I couldn’t stop grinning, were the guys this excited when I was moving in?

I kind of expected him to come with more stuff, but he only came with a few boxes and a bag of clothes, and Epiphony of course. He came in heaving the boxes, we talked for a bit, laughing and everything was good and perfect and would have continued to be… Until we showed him to his room. Do you ever get those moments where every feels like a dream? And not the happy dream filled with our deep fantasies and achieving our wants but the feeling that you are just a spectator and you have no control over what is happening? I don’t even understand why we did it, Sailor’s old room was empty and gathering dust, it was perfect… But when Strings opened Ray’s door, me and Drummer said nothing. Actually, Strings and Drummer left us to sort things out. I could see the confused expression on Chris’s face but he seemed to be in that state of mind where he had to just go along with it. We put the boxes into the room and looked around.

The bed was still in the unmade heap Ray had left it, his albums were still stacked in a leaning tower on his bed side beside an open issue of the December 2010 issue of KERRANG! His clothes were still in the wardrobe, his guitar leaned on the desk and his amp was tucked away in the corner. On his desk lay that rose that Crystal girl gave to him but the petals had all fallen and coil up into black wrinkled beads. Chris tried to pick one up but it turned to dust on the desk. He stared blankly around, sniffling. I knew why. It still smelt of Ray too. All that was removed from that room was Ray’s body, his lyrics, the drugs and the alcohol. We searched around for a note but we never found one. After that, we shut the door and never even really looked at it. I guess we kinda hoped that he’d walk through it one day when we were passing through the hall and it would all turn out to be a horrible nightmare. But it wasn’t. It was real. And the room had become his tomb, unopened and untouched for more than a year.

He sat down on the chair, staring blankly at the rose. I looked down at the floor where I found Ray. I walked in wanting to borrow his Best Of Foo Fighters CD and I saw him there, lying on his side, his legs under his desk. He must’ve fallen off the chair, but I wouldn’t tell Chris that… I remember I called his name in a panic, when he didn’t answer I rushed to his side and turned him to face me. He was so pale, so white… His eyes were open but there was nothing inside, no sight, no life, none of the happiness that usually filled them. I touched his skin and it practically radiated frost. I knew then and began to cry, calling out his name repeatedly, trying to call him back to life. But it was no good. They told us Ray had been dead for at least four hours before I had found him. For four hours all I did was sleep, when all that time Ray had slipped into a sleep he’d never wake from.

I pressed my cheek, feeling tears run down and I could hear Chris make an attempt to muffle his cries.

‘This was stupid,’ I said, feeling my voice strain, ‘I dunno why we put you in here- I really don’t-‘

‘It’s alright.’ He said in such a weak voice it made it harder to control my tears. I saw him shake and he tried to push himself back up to stand but ended up knocking a pen over. It rolled under the drawers of the desk and he collapsed to the floor, ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!’

‘It’s fine- it was just a pen- Come on we’ll go to the other room.’

But he didn’t move. His hand was under the desk but his stare was on me. His eyes were glazed over with tears but they had frozen in motion. He moved again, pulling out of what was under the desk. I expected it to be the pen but it wasn’t. It was an old brown enveloped blanketed in dust. He wiped the front of it with his hand. There in red pen read: Strings, Drummer, Sailor and Red.

I knew then why we had chosen this room. It was Ray.

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