/A/N/ Muahahaha... I felt like adding an extra chapter before I end this.
kill me. or please don't. /
A make shift theatre with silken bed sheets draping from side to side stood in Brad basement. A single light bulb hung from a mere string, hardly illuminating the tiny chamber. Everything was in readiness. It was perfect.
He only wished there was a swimming pool. but he paid no mind since it was just a small detail. This was his tribute to Rocky, Columbia. Frank and even Janet.
This was his salute to that night, one year ago.
Brad clambered behind the curtains, images of that night flashing through his mind. Everyone else who preformed that night may be dead or gone, but he would make it work. He would. That's all he needed to tell him self.
A few minutes passed, and finally he had the courage to utter the words he knew all too well.
"It's beyond me. help me mommy."
Tears stung his eyes, before falling down, along with watery masses of makeup.
"I'll be good, you'll see. take this dream. away,"
Brad had to choke out the last line. It had new meaning now to him. this all seemed like a dream... perhaps it was. He wasn't the type to do all this. or so he had always thought.
"What's this... let's see. I feel...."
He couldn't bring himself to say the last word of the line. He had never felt more unattractive in his life, so why lie? A silent sob wracked his body, and with every shudder they grew louder. Soon he was taken over by the most severe bout of tears he had ever had. There was no point in trying anymore. he knew it was true.
On shaky legs he found his way to the bathroom. Whiteface had run down his cheeks, leaving his pale gray skin vulnerable, and exposed. He screamed at his reflection, and pulled open the medicine cabinet.
A secret stash of heroin. Although, there was no one to keep a secret from, only himself.
Perhaps it was too much for one person to take in one douse. but he would leave that for the paramedics to figure out once someone found his body.
A make shift theatre with silken bed sheets draping from side to side stood in Brad basement. A single light bulb hung from a mere string, hardly illuminating the tiny chamber. Everything was in readiness. It was perfect.
He only wished there was a swimming pool. but he paid no mind since it was just a small detail. This was his tribute to Rocky, Columbia. Frank and even Janet.
This was his salute to that night, one year ago.
Brad clambered behind the curtains, images of that night flashing through his mind. Everyone else who preformed that night may be dead or gone, but he would make it work. He would. That's all he needed to tell him self.
A few minutes passed, and finally he had the courage to utter the words he knew all too well.
"It's beyond me. help me mommy."
Tears stung his eyes, before falling down, along with watery masses of makeup.
"I'll be good, you'll see. take this dream. away,"
Brad had to choke out the last line. It had new meaning now to him. this all seemed like a dream... perhaps it was. He wasn't the type to do all this. or so he had always thought.
"What's this... let's see. I feel...."
He couldn't bring himself to say the last word of the line. He had never felt more unattractive in his life, so why lie? A silent sob wracked his body, and with every shudder they grew louder. Soon he was taken over by the most severe bout of tears he had ever had. There was no point in trying anymore. he knew it was true.
On shaky legs he found his way to the bathroom. Whiteface had run down his cheeks, leaving his pale gray skin vulnerable, and exposed. He screamed at his reflection, and pulled open the medicine cabinet.
A secret stash of heroin. Although, there was no one to keep a secret from, only himself.
Perhaps it was too much for one person to take in one douse. but he would leave that for the paramedics to figure out once someone found his body.