Sometimes I get the feeling she's watching over me.

And other times I feel like I should go.

And through it all, the rise and fall, the bodies in the streets.

And when you're gone we want you all to know.

We'll carry on,

We'll carry on

And though you're dead and gone believe me

Your memory will carry on

We'll carry on

And in my heart I can't contain it

The anthem won't explain it.

A world that sends you reeling from decimated dreams

Your misery and hate will kill us all.

So paint it black and take it back

Let's shout it loud and clear

Defiant to the end we hear the call

My Chemical Romance- Welcome The The Black Parade


"I killed everyone you care about. Your parents, your best friend, and your sister. And you're next."

"Why should I care? My parents were horrible people, and my sister hated living as much as I do. I bet she's happy."

"And what about your best friend? Won't he be happy to see you?"

"My best friend isn't dead. He just doesn't remember anything. That's what having major brain damage does to you. You forget things. Sometimes permanently."

"Then he won't care if you died."

"Do it. I dare you."

"Maybe I'll make it painful. I do enjoy a good torture session."

"Did you not hear me? I said kill me you fucking pussy!"


I woke when the sound of a loud gunshot reverberated in my mind. I looked around and saw I was still on the couch. I glanced at the watch that was around my wrist. It was one in the afternoon. I had slept for a good three hours.

I nearly had a heart attack when I saw the ghost sitting on the other side of the couch.

I could tell it was a ghost because he was wispy and see-through. I couldn't see his face, his knees were pulled up to his chin, and his head was resting on top of it. He was about fifteen, the same age as me, wearing an orange jacket, jeans, black galoshes, and a green hat. I heard them mumbling quietly to himself.

"Ngh- who are you?" I asked him.

The boy lifted his head, revealing a pale face and bright green eyes.

"You can see me?" He said.

"Uh yeah." I nodded. "I'm- ack!- Tweek. What about you?"

"I'm Kyle. Kyle Broflovski. How can you see me?"

"Well I can- arg!- see ghosts. Augh! You are a ghost, aren't you?"

"Yes. Do you think you can help me?"

"I guess I can. Gah! I'm not that all that experienced with helping ghosts. Ngh- what's the problem?"

Kyle, removed his hat, revealing a wild bush of curly red hair, and ran one of his hands through it. "Have you ever heard of The Killer of A Million Men?"

I shook my head.

"Well he showed up seventy years ago as a serial killer who would just kill anyone he laid eyes on. He would kill hundreds upon hundreds of people in one area, then he would disappear for a while. Then he would randomly pop up a few years later in a completely different area. Then it just goes on like that."

"He just randomly kills people?" I questioned, starting to get scared.

"Sometimes yes, other times, he targets people. Specifically homosexuals and teenagers. Lots of people think that there's a cult of them, because it's been going on for seventy years, but it's just him."

"Ack! But how's that possible?"

"Because this man is an evil spirit. The spirit of a deranged lunatic. But only ghosts can know this knowledge. He's known for killing in all different ways, and carving a pentagram onto his victim's arms, legs, and forehead."

"Why are you tell me this?"

"Because I was one of the people he killed."

My eyes went wide. "You were?"

"Yes. He targeted me, because I was not only a teenager, I was gay too."

"Oh- arg!- really?"

"Yes. He killed my lover first, then he shot up the school in order to get to me. Many of my other friends died. Most of them have moved on, others I talk to because they want to move on with me, but I can't without him." A few tears escaped Kyle's eyes. Poor guy.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. I just need your help. You can see us so I want to ask if you can help me look for him."

"Your... lover? Who was he?"

Kyle reached into his pants pocket, producing a photo, (Did I mention ghosts can conjure up things from their past?) and showed it to me. It was of him and another boy. He had brown hair and eyes, and was maybe five or six inches taller than Kyle. He had a little bit of baby fat left over that indicated that he may have been overweight when he was younger. He and Kyle were standing on a forest path, surrounded by trees. They were both smiling, Kyle with his arms around the other's neck, and the arms of the other boy around his waist. They looked so happy?

"What's his name?" I asked.

"His name is Eric." It looked like it pained Kyle to say his name. "Eric Cartman. He was the only one I ever really loved, even though we fought when we were younger." He laughed bitterly. "Will you help me find him?"

"Find a ghost?! AUGH! I've never done that before? What if I screw up? Too much pressure! Gah!"

"Is that a no then?"

"I-I don't know!"

"Will you at least consider it?"

"Oh uhhhh, sure?"

"Great! Thank you!"

"Wait! What if I-" But I couldn't finish because before I could say anything else, Kyle had disappeared.


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-Liv