A/N: I don't think I really made this very clear, but this chapter takes place over a number of years, not over a short amount of time.
And I know Jimbo's parents haven't died, but so that his father had an "excuse" besides alcohol to abuse him, I had his mother die.
How's this for happy?
Disclaimer: I don't own Avenged Sevenfold. They are the complete proud owners of themselves, and their music.
Dead Punk- Aw shucks. You're too kind. :) It's cool. I can't say I'm not random myself, so it sounds like we're on the same page. Screw accounts, of course we can be friends! Good taste in music, my friend. Megadeth rocks.
Kumani Arentoi- Even though I made you cry, I'm really glad that you're liking this. It makes me feel wayyy better about my writing when people can feel the emotions I'm trying to dish out. Especially when I read it over, think to myself "What is this, I don't even...", and then post it anyway. Call me lazy, it's true, lol. I literally just used some of the games I play, aren't I original? I don't think it's bad. I quite like that chapter, too, though I think this one makes it as my favorite. I'm in to dark, angsty things, too. Thanks for reading and reviewing! :)
Victim
A melody drifted through the cemetery. It was played with a passionate softness that deepened the anguish; the despair that hung in thick clouds throughout the grounds. It was melancholy at its finest. Johnny acknowledged the haunting music with a single tear; the first he had shed through the whole service. He was trying to stay strong; to be happy and grateful for his best friend's life. Oh, how he was. But the music was making his façade crumble.
Johnny remembered his friend's past sufferings, and, thinking back on it, the day those sufferings were brought to light.
The day was coming to a close. The warm summer sun was glowing brightly over the horizon, sinking slowly beneath the waves. The wind whispered merrily over the cooling sand. Johnny sighed, content. Days like these were the best; the made him feel relaxed. And the beach provided its own little isolated spa.
Johnny sighed again, this time in annoyance. He could hear someone quickly approaching, their breath coming in erratic gasps. Johnny lifted his head and gazed at the teenager who collapsed beside him, chest heaving and sweat dripping from his chin.
"Jimmy?" Johnny murmured gently, placing a tentative hand on the other's shoulder blade. "Are you alright?"
It wasn't uncommon for Jimmy, or any of their other friends, to randomly appear at their self-proclaimed "spot", but no one had planned to hang out that evening. Beside that, Jimmy was acting strangely.
The other boy's head snapped up and met Johnny's concerned stare. Suddenly the sweat splashing onto the crystalline sand was coming from Jimmy's eyes, usually so playful and bright.
He was crying.
Immediately, Johnny's arms wrapped around Jimmy's shoulders. The latter buried his face in Johnny's neck and gripped his shirt tightly. A few strong sobs wracked Jimmy's tall, lanky body, and for a long time they stayed like that. Finally, when the sun was swallowed up by the sea and the moon had risen to take its place, they pulled apart. Jimmy's sobs had faded and left him with a forlorn expression.
"Sorry for ruining your shirt," Jimmy whispered.
What? "Do you really think I would worry about a stupid shirt at a time like this?"
The taller boy let his head drop against his chest. Johnny's eyes softened and he lifted Jimmy's chin slowly, "Hey, what's wrong?"
Those sad blue eyes studied him for a moment before "Do you think I'm a screw up?" blurted from his lips.
Johnny frowned, "What?"
"Do you think that I am a screw up?"
"Of course I don't! Why would you even ask that?" Johnny was frightened; Jimmy never acted like this.
Another long moment passed before Jimmy responded, "Because my dad kept repeating it while he gave me these." He carefully pulled his shirt off. Johnny gasped. Bruises, both new and old, some just blooming in purple and others fading out in a sickly yellow, littered Jimmy's chest, stomach, and abdomen.
Johnny shuddered. That was the day he had found out Jimmy's father abused him. He had instantly tried to take him to the police, but Jimmy refused and begged Johnny not to make it worse. He had agreed then, albeit reluctantly, but now he realized he should have done so anyway.
A few more tears slipped down Johnny's cheeks at the memory. The song was still playing. The song that Jimmy had written himself. The man sitting behind the piano playing the piece with gorgeous precision was one of Johnny and Jimmy's best friends; Matt Sanders. With every beautiful transition, every stunning tempo and dynamic change, every note that screamed "Jimmy", Johnny knew Matt was honoring their lost friend in the only way he knew how; through music.
Another memory presented itself, this one a little more horrifying.
The night was dark and loud with the sound of insects, and Johnny found himself resting on the old oak tree in his backyard. He was feeling sleepy and the thought of heading inside crossed his mind just as a large thump sounded by their gate. Johnny was immediately on his feet, cautiously making his way to the source of the noise.
He saw a figure hunched over in the darkness, and as he drew nearer, it let out a strangled whimper, "Johnny..."
The boy gaped. What was Jimmy doing here? Johnny kneeled down beside Jimmy and held out a hand. The taller flinched violently and backed away from the limb. Johnny quickly pulled it back. Grimacing, Jimmy held his lower back. Johnny took notice and whispered softly, "He's been hitting you again, hasn't he?"
Jimmy shook his head, allowing his messy raven fringe to fall in his eyes, "Not this time. It was worse. H-he – he..."
Johnny frowned in confusion before he realized what Jimmy was trying to say, "Oh my – Jimmy, did your dad...rape you?"
The taller boy nodded pathetically.
The second offense of Jimmy's father was much more awful and disturbing, and Johnny had almost marched down to his house, ready to beat his father bloody with a metal baseball bat. The only thing that stopped him was Jimmy's urging to leave it be.
Johnny jerked back to the present as the preacher began speaking. The piano was still playing softly in the background, accenting his respectful goodbye. The preacher asked for someone to speak for Jimmy, and Johnny stepped up to the microphone without hesitation. He looked over the crowd, seeing close friends and family. No one had a dry face.
"Jimmy was the best of us," he heard murmurs of agreement. "He was kind, crazy, fun, and passionate about what he loved; Jimmy was a beautiful person, both in body and in mind. And he was stolen from us. A man by the name of Joseph Sullivan ripped our best friend; our brother out of our lives forever, in the worst way possible. The saying 'Good things come with a price' certainly reigns true under these circumstances. Jimmy acted as though his life were perfect in the way he helped others, though his life at home was anything but. Jimmy put up with abuse every day after his mother died, but he still found a way to put a smile on everyone's face," Johnny paused to sniffle. "He truly was the strongest man I know."
Many people were sobbing quietly. Johnny, himself, was fighting tears.
"Jimmy was a victim. A victim of abuse, a victim of rape, and a victim of murder. I pray every night that suffering no longer plagues Jimmy, wherever he is now. He never deserved it."
Everyone clapped, and Johnny climbed off of the podium. Jimmy's song started playing again, and only then did he notice that his speech had captured everyone's attention. Now, they all looked to the casket, ebony with silver lining. It began lowering into the prepared ground, courtesy of Matt and Jason Berry, twin brothers and friends of everyone at the service.
Soon, Jimmy was totally gone; secured stably in the earth. Johnny was silently distraught. How do I move on? We were closer than brothers; he won't be forgotten. Never in a million years.
Johnny went home alone that night. He wanted to grieve privately. He wanted to deny that Jimmy was gone at all, but the truth was inevitable, and he eventually allowed despair and sorrow to wash him away.
One phrase regularly circulated through his thoughts as he attempted to recover and regain his life; to retain his sanity. Sometimes he would whisper it, and other times he found himself screaming it toward the sky. And every once in a while, he could almost feel Jimmy watching over him and would tell the presence with a sad smile on his face, "I'm missing you."