After the long day, I now lie peacefully in my bed. As I find myself drifting to sleep, I reflect on the great day I had with America. I know we've only been friends for about a little over a month but I felt like I had known him my entire life. I was happy anytime I was in his presence. Just being with him made me feel alive- I felt that us feeling the adrenaline together was a bonus.
It slightly upsets me that I've lacked a friendship my entire life, I truly did miss out. Well, not really I guess because no one I've ever observed was like America. He was surely unique.
Actually, I quite honestly was beginning to feel like we had more than a friendship. The thought scared me. I couldn't possibly be ready to pursue a relationship, I just got the hang of having a regular friendship...
But I saw this coming. As someone who was been neglected and ignored their entire life, it makes sense as to why I would start seeing him that way. Plus I would have to factor in that he is the only person I can tolerate and want to be around... and all the flirting... and maybe us experiencing that adrenaline together everyday bonded us closer.
I can't blame myself for liking him. I knew the possible risk when I befriended him. And yet, I accepted it with open arms.
It wasn't that I was afraid to date him... I didn't give a fuck about anyone's opinion. They all disappointed me so why should I care if I disappointed them? Who were they to me?
It was the commitment that put me on edge. Right now we would be completely fine, but when school starts back up again, how would I know that he would still be committed to me? He's popular and has "friends", and I don't... I feel like I would just set myself up to be heartbroken.
Yet again, that was only a possibility. Anything could happen, and I mean anything...
I allow my thoughts to put me to sleep. It was supposed to feel peaceful. It almost was a perfect day. That was until he showed up.
My father kicks open my door and starts yelling at me in the middle of the night. I can't make out anything he is saying because he slurs all his words. Was he speaking in Russian or English? I didn't fucking know!
But I did know one thing; he has been drinking. I see him holding a bottle in his hand.
When I do not reply, he tosses the bottle to the floor and angrily storms over to my bed to hit me across the face. He then picks me up by my shirt collar and shakes me violently.
"Get outta my fucking house!" he screams.
What the hell was wrong with him? Why did I have to be his punching bag? It isn't fair. This is the only attention I get from him, pain!
He throws me onto the floor and starts kicking me everywhere. I cover my head to protect myself while I weep. I wish for this all to stop. What could I do to make it stop?
Every time I accepted the beatings he would just come back harder the next time. I tried convincing myself that the hits hurt less and less every time but I wasn't so sure I could deem that to be true. It's never going to get any better is it?
Not like I had much of a choice anyways right? It's not like I could kick his ass... I wasn't that brave.
My mind feeds me flashbacks of everything I have done within the past month to prove that last sentence wrong. This was nothing compared to all those deadly situations... so what the hell was I doing? Why was I holding back? America would want me to fight.
"Go away! Stop coming back here!" my father screams as he sends me another kick. Only this time I grab his foot and pull him to the ground. I roll over to his face and I start punching him until my hand hurts. He tries holding my fist but I power through his force. He then sends his knee to my stomach which was finally enough to get me to stop. I hold my stomach as he rises back up. I stare at his now swollen face... I think he looks worse than me... did I really do that?
He latches his fingers around my neck and raises me into the air. I struggle to breathe as I fight to break free. He still grasps me tightly. With no other option, I jam my thumb into his eye socket. He screams and drops me. I cough and my eyes meet the bottle he had tossed on the floor earlier. With him distracted, I run to it and scoop it up.
I make my way to my father and I hit him upside the head with it. The glass shatters and he finally hits the floor for good.
I stare at the scene in disbelief. I couldn't believe that happened. I didn't even know if he was still alive. I didn't want to be here for another second, I drop the remaining bottle handle and I run to the front door with my car keys.
I drive in silence on the highway. I couldn't fucking believe what had happened. I could still feel my hands trembling. Never in a million years would I have thought I would be capable enough to do that. I don't think I could ever go back home...
So I pulled up in front of America's house. I hated how empty and dark it always looked. Ironically, I thought of it to be really welcoming. But only his car was in the driveway, there's no way his family are still on vacation right?
I knocked on his door only to get no reply. I then try opening it to find that the door was unlocked. I let myself in, surely America wouldn't mind. I know he'd completely understand.
"America?" I call, "Something really bad happened..." I say brokenly.
I creep upstairs to his bedroom, only, he wasn't even in there.
"America?" I call again. Fuck where was he? I could really use him right now...
I then notice something odd about his desk. I walk over to it. A bunch of different news articles were printed and scattered all around. What was he up to?
I lift one to examine it. The headline read, "Teenagers severely injured and hospitalized after mysterious firework explosion!"
What? I look at the other headlines...
"Driver claims a "possessed car" caused him to crash into a ditch!"
"Store owners say their items disappear from their stores!"
"Self driving red car spotted throughout town again!"
"Possessed piano caught moving!"
"Reporter states demons like the rain!"
"The new top ten most haunted locations in town!"
"18 year old, America, still reported as missing."
I stare at all the news articles with a shaky breath. What the fuck was all of this? I step away from the desk feeling sick to my stomach. I felt like I was going to pass out- what did this all mean? What was America not telling me? Why did all of these articles sound like us?
I then hear the floorboard creak behind me and I whip my head around.
America stares at me with widened eyes. He stood still in the doorway and didn't dare to move.
"You have some fucking explaining to do!" I yell. I pick up the papers and aggressively wave them in the air. "What the fuck is all of this!?"
I watch his eyes start to tear up. "I'm so sorry..." he chokes out, "I swear I was planning on telling you..."
"Telling me what!?" I yell.
"P-Please don't hate me..." he cries. I've never seen him like this, it made me even more uncomfortable. Was this him finally snapping? I didn't like it.
"Stop crying!" I yell, "Please fucking stop! I just wanna know the truth! What are you hiding from me? Why are all these on your desk? Where is your family really? What's in your attic? Did you kill them? Why does it say you are still missing?"
He shuts his eyes to fight back his tears. He silently trembles without saying a word.
"America... please... I'm your best friend, you can tell me..." I say desperately, "I don't think I could ever hate you..."
He exhales slowly and nods. He walks over to his desk and opens the top drawer revealing a journal. He takes it out and walks towards the door.
He stops and looks at me. "I always feared that this day would come... I promise you I'll explain every damn detail and answer all of your questions, but you won't believe me unless you come with me..." he then clenches his journal and walks out of the room.
I look back at the scattered articles before following him to his car.
Soon he parks his car next to the curb and leads me into a cemetery. At first I feared he was going to try to kill me or show me his dead family... but it was far worse. He shows me the most unforgettable sight I could imagine. I immediately feel lightheaded and my heart sinks into my stomach. My eyes swell up with water and I lose all feeling in my body. Nothing could prepare me for this...
We stood in front of a tombstone that read my name.
I stare at it completely speechless. With a trembling breath and teary eyes, I manage to choke out;
"When did I die?"
The ghost next to me doesn't dare mutter a word and hands me his journal.