Silver glints up at me from the blurred asphalt in front of me.
I wake up to another empty bedroom.
She's gone.
Like usual.
The white lines spin past in a whirl of snow and branches.
Although I surely convince myself to stay in bed all day, I know that I have to function, and go to school, and go to practice, and pretend that I don't have to worry about seeing him all day. I know that have to get past the bruising lockers, and the cutting fists, and the blinding words like knives. I'll make it through the next seventeen hours, and then I'll finally give in.
Something warm and sticky pours from the side of my head that isn't resting against something cold and metal.
Two new bruises.
Five, "Freak!"s shouted at me.
10 minutes of crying in the girls bathroom; someone saw me in the boys one and reported me, even though I'm almost considered to be a man in the district.
Sixteen hours left.
Everything goes black, then red, then back to black.
Someone steals my binder from the locker room seventh period.
Scratch the two new bruises; I get punched in the face during lunch.
Twice.
And once in the stomach.
And six times in my legs.
Sigh. I still have ten hours left.
Beeps fill my ears, and redness shines from in front of my closed eyelids. There are pricks all over my body, almost like I'm being stuck with thousands of push pins. Voices say things that I can barely make out, things like; "Blizzard… in the morning… forest… vegetative."
What does it mean?
I walk home with my headphones in. The bus is full of vampires anyway- the people thirsting for my spilt blood. Almost like myself. I wouldn't mind ending up in a pool of blood. Or a hell of bullets. Or a desert, with frostbite covering me as snow falls around my corpse. That sounds like a nice way to die. It'd be very contradictory; it's confuse the fuck out of everyone.
The thought almost makes me smile.
I'm growing cold.
I trip over the curb and almost get hit by a car.
But with my luck, of course I don't.
Nine hours left.
"I have to see him!"
"Miss, she's still unconscious, and only family can go in to see her while she's in ICU."
"But-"
"I can't let you in. Try coming in at a later time."
"He might not be alive at a later time!"
It takes two hours to walk home form school.
Eight hours left.
The steady beeping is back. It's been my only comfort as voices I don't know diagnose things that I can't comprehend. There's also been a lot of sobbing, but I can't tell who it is. I just hope that it's not mom. Mikey's seen me beat up more then he can count, even though he's barely fourteen. If mom saw me like this, I don't know how I'd be able to comfort her, to keep her from crying.
Seven hours left.
Footfalls come closer to me. Something is dragged across the floor, and there's a slight creaking sound. Someone sighs shakily multiple times.
"G-Gerard… it's me… Francine… Frankie… I have to tell you something, before it's too late. Before you're gone forever."
Six hours left.
"I have to tell you how much you mean to me, even after all of the things we've put each other through. I have to prove myself to you, somehow. I have to prove to you that I still care about you. I still love you. And this time I mean it."
Five hours.
"I hope you wake up, but I know that you won't. You've been in a coma for days, and they've had to try and revive you four times. Your heart's fading out. You're fading away. But you don't know that. You probably can't even hear me."
Four hours.
Oh, but I can.
Three hours.
"All we are… we're bullets. You're the death of me, like I was the death of you. If it we're for me, you'd never have been on the road that night. If it weren't for me, you'd still be here, baby. The world still needs you here. It doesn't need me anymore."
Two hours.
My heart monitor stops.
One.
BANG!
BANG!
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
My eyes open, and I bolt up in a hospital bed.
On the white floor, in a pile of blood, with a gun in hand.
The scent that fills my nose makes me nauseous; it's metallic.
"Fr… F-Frankie?"