It had been a while since Aleister had been angry. These days he was just sad. The anger had finally left him but instead he was feeling this overpowering sadness taking over and swallowing him whole.
Depression. At least that was what his therapist Xavier Woods said. Nice man. Funny too. Even though Aleister didn't laugh at Xavier's jokes, he still knew they were funny. He should laugh. He just couldn't.
He tried moving on with his life. Tried forgetting her. Tried accepting it. Tried doing small tasks everyday. Get out of bed, take a shower, get dressed, brew coffee, make breakfast, see if he could actually eat something. Tried, tried, tried. And failed. Everyday. Some of the tasks he did, others he didn't.
It was ironic in some twisted way that he was depressed. She would never have allowed it. She would have gone out of her way to put a smile on his face again. She was always so damn happy. Ironic that she had left him unhappy. He still remembered the first time she saw him in a bad mood.
"Just leave me alone," he sighed.
"Nope, I'm not gonna do that," she said. "I love you, my dark and moody prince. Now get up. We're going for a ride."
"Where are we going?" He asked.
"The happiest place on earth," she answered.
On the way in the car he was picturing something Disney related. To his surprise she drove to the shelter. He followed her inside and soon after he found himself in a room full of cats. He couldn't help but smile at the black furball that rubbed up against his leg.
"See, it works," she beamed. "Cats are happiness."
"Do you wanna adopt a cat?" He asked.
"When the right one comes along," she answered. "But I was actually thinking about volunteering here in the weekends."
"That's a great idea," he said.
He walked over to her, gently grabbed her chin and pecked her lips.
"Thank you for this. I love you," he said.
He laughed as the same furball had followed and once again rubbed against his leg. He picked up the black, long haired cat and started stroking it. It immediately started purring and rubbing its forehead against his head.
"I think he likes you," she said.
"Should we?" He asked.
"Yeah, we definitely should. Let's adopt him," she smiled. "What should we name him?"
"Manson," he said. "It goes with your name and my style of music."
He laid in bed. He couldn't even get out of it this morning. He felt so alone. He heard soft cat paws walk over the bedroom floor. Manson jumped up and placed himself on Aleister's stomach, purring as always. He gently stroked the black cat. He wasn't completely alone despite feeling like it. Manson hadn't left him like Marilyn had.
"I know, Manson," he sighed. "I miss her too."