There’s flowers on your window.
Your friends all plead with you to stay.
The steady beep of the cardiograph. The labored breathing of my last friend, slowly slipping away from me. The next beep of the cardiograph. My own silent breathes, rising and falling. The steps of the nurses in the hallway. The tick of the clock, counting away the seconds. A falter in the cardiograph. His breath seizing up.
I raise my head. Please don’t let this be the end. Please.
“Water,” he rasps. I immediately get up, fill a cup with water, and bring it to his mouth. He takes a short drink, before he’s consumed by a coughing fit. I lift the cup away. “Is that you, Vinyl?” he asks in a hoarse whisper.
“Yes, I’m here. How’s it going? Feeling better?” I ask, trying to give him a smile know that he opened his eyes.
My smile doesn’t fool him. “Vinyl, don’t. I know I’m dying, and I also know I won’t leave this room alive. I’m okay with that.”
“Yeah, maybe you're okay with leaving all of us behind, but maybe I’m not fine with being left alone,” I say.
His eyes shut. I think he falls asleep again.
“So how was your weekend?” he asks, surprising me in multiple ways.
“My weekend doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me. What did you do? Do anything with your friends?”
“You know I don’t have any friends. I’ve been stuck with you my whole life” I say jokingly.
He manages to smile. “So what are you going to do tomorrow?”
“I don’t know...” We both know what I’ll be doing tomorrow, unless a miracle happens.
“Yeah, bad topic. So, what you want to talk about with these last moments of my life?”
“Don’t talk like that.”
He rolls his eyes. “So are we going to spend this day bickering, like always?”
“No, sorry. It’s just, I don’t want to think of you dying yet.”
“I know.” He looks up at me from the hospital bed. As always, I’m entranced by his bright green eyes, and how they contrast with his black coat.
“Did I ever tell you how sharp you look?” I ask, staring into his eyes.
“You do all the time.” He smiles back up at me. We stay that way for a blissful oblivion in this era of chaos, until he’s brought down by a coughing fit. I take a step back, waiting for the coughing to stop. Only it doesn’t. It gets worse.
He’s almost doubled over in bed, appearing to cough his lungs out. After a particularly violent cough, the sheets he’s doubled over are sprayed crimson.
“Nurse!” I scream.
A nurse rushes in, and and tries to administer an anaesthetic. She can't get the needle in due to the convulsions he’s gone in.
He locks eyes with me, trying to say something. The nurse backs off, knowing that there’s no chance of saving him any more. I get next to his bed. He’s stopped convulsing, but he’s still fading away pretty fast. We lock hooves. He tries to repeat what he said. I can’t hear him, so I lower my head, to catch what he’s saying. “I love you, Vinyl Scratch”
His head falls onto the pillow. His hoof slips out of mine.
“Alt? Stop kidding around, Alt?” He doesn’t respond. I shake his shoulder. “Come on, knock it off!”
The nurse walks up to me. “Ma’am, I.. I don’t think he’ll respond.”
“Of course he will. This is just one of his little games.” The cardiograph flatlines. His breathing stops. “Just”- my eyes water -”A little”- a tear rests on the corner of my eye, threatening to fall -”Game.” the tear falls, unleashing a flood of them. And once they start, they can’t stop. I’m crying all the way to the apartment we share.
Everything’s there, but instead of comforting me, it only makes me that much sadder. The smell of him on our bed. His shampoo in the shower. His cans of Mellow Yellow next to the bottles of my Mountain Dew. His side of the couch. His cds of alternate rock next to mine of industrial EDM.
I fall asleep on the couch, wrapped up in his black hoodie, dreaming of my lost friend, and how he was so much more than a friend. How he was everything to me, how he gave me a reason to drag myself out of bed, how he always cheered me up when my bouts of depression would strike, how he was my life, and my anchor to reality. About how I can’t make it without him.
I lay on the couch. I can feel the sunlight streaming in the open window, but it feels cold. I snuggle deeper into the hoodie, trying to find some warmth in it. Nothing. A small bubble of anger and frustration forms in the bottom of my heart, and grows the more I think of how unfair it is. Why my only friend, my Alt, should be taken away from me. It builds and builds, until it pops. I lay there for a moment, trying to contain the sudden, white hot anger that posses me. I can’t control it.
I stand up, shaking with rage. I take a deep breathe, like I’ve practiced to dissipate my anger at life. I stand there, breathing deeply through my nose, when someone knocks on the door.
“Who is it?” I ask shakily.
“Just your little ol’ Alt,” comes his voice.
I gasp as if I’ve been dumped in cold water. It can’t be him, that’s impossible. I walk to the door, and there he is. Same midnight black coat, same bright, enchanting, lovely green eyes. “How are you here?” I ask, not willing to believe my own eyes.
“Well, I”- I cut him off.
“That doesn’t matter. You’re here now, and you're okay. That’s what matters, right?” Even if he’s not real, it doesn’t matter. I have my Alt back, and that’s all I really want.
“Yeah, I guess you're right,” He smiles, “You lil’ thief! That’s my hoodie!” He shouts in mock anger. He lets out a playful growl, and then runs toward me.
I run away, staying slow enough to stay only a few steps ahead of him. “If you want it back, you’ll have to catch me first!”
I run down the hallway into the living room, him right behind me. I run into a corner, and stand there, back to the corner, trying to catch my breath.
“I got you know,” He pants. His voice sounds off, but I don’t pay attention to it.
“Oh, do you?” I try and edge around him, but he blocks me. I try the other way, but he blocks me that way too. He slowly starts closing in towards me. I lower myself down to the ground, and then tackle him playfully. He shouts in surprise. We roll over each other due to my momentum, and come to a rest at the bottom of the couch. “Not much of a fighter, anymore, are you?”
He coughs before responding. “Nah, I’m feeling a little under the weather.”
“That’s one way to put it. I swear I just say you die in the hospital.”
A dark look crosses his face. “Vinyl, I have to tell you something.” He hesitates.
I look at him expectantly. “And what might that be?”
The dark look leaves his face. He gets up, and reclines on the sofa. I get up, and curl up on his side. He kisses me on the cheek. “Only that I love you very, very much.”
“How sweet of you,” I say.
He coughs again, more forcefully.
“What’s wrong?”
He looks at me. The dark look returns to his face again. “Vinyl, I’m not real.”
“What? Of course you’re real.” I lightly punch him with my hoof. “See? I made contact.”
The dark look is replaced with one of pure misery. “You only think you did. Vinyl, you saw me die. When I ‘came’ back, you didn’t question my appearance. I’m just a figment of your imagination.”
I stand up. This can’t be real. This can’t be real. This can’t “Be real. This can’t be real. This can’t be-” He interrupts my repetition by putting a hoof on my muzzle.
“Think, Vinyl. You know I’m fake.”
We stare into each other's face. His seems to flicker in my vision.
"But how?"
"I already told you."
"I don't believe you. This is just a little joke of yours."
"No, Vinyl. This isn't one of his jokes. I'm not him."
"Seriously knock it off."
"Vinyl, this is just you trying to cope with his death."
"Alt, I'm not kidding. This isn't funny anymore."
"And I'm not kidding."
"You know how annoying you can be sometimes?" We stare at each other. My red hot glare versus his green, calm gaze. The fact that he can be so calm looking, more than anything else, is what pisses me off. The constant anger that boils beneath my surface rages up. I hit him once, hard, on the shoulder. "Is that fake?!" I shout at him.
He looks at me with his sad eyes. "Yes, it is."
I scream, and rain a flurry of blows on him, determined to hurt him, make him cut off his little game. He does nothing to stop me, he just takes everything I throw.
I continue trying to hurt him until I'm out of breathe. "Vinyl, think for a moment. I died in your hooves. You know I'm not real. Ignore the emotions that spring so readily to you, and look at the logic." At the end of his sentence, he breaks into a coughing fit.
I try to ignore him, but I know he's right. I stand there, the rage giving way to grief. "How will I get through without you?"
"I don't know Vinyl. After all, I'm just you little imaginary friend. But he'll always be with you, in your memory's."
This rubs me the wrong way. "Your full of shit, as always. You know what, get out of my house," I tell him, fed up with his games.
He just sighs, and vanishes. Even by obeying me, he proved his point. He's gone.
I can't cope with that fact. I lay on the couch, for minutes, hours, possibly even days after I accept the fact. I don't cry any more. I'm not sad I'm...empty. Empty of everything that used to give life meaning.
What is there to do now? How do I move on? I can't, I don't. I fall asleep. I dream of him. I wake up, find real life unsatisfactory, and slip back to dream land, just to see his face. Soon, though, he doesn't visit my dreams anymore. There's only one way I can see him again.
I walk into the garage, and grab what I need. I carry it up to the attic. I tie the knot, slip the necklace around my neck. And I jump. My weight and the strength of the rope snap my neck. And the noose suffocates what little life remains.
Sometimes endings aren't that simple
Sometimes goodbye's the only way
Author's Note
So, the re-edited and re-re-published version of the story. I might be posting a mirror chapter of this.
Thanks to Mikea for editing.
The steady beep of the cardiograph and the machine that measures her brainwaves. After being here for so long, I should've remembered what it's called. That and her breathing are the only sounds I hear.
"Hey, you there?" she asks me.
"Yeah, right here. What's up?" I ask. I take her hoof, and hold it.
"You know what day it is?"
"I don't know... Wednesday, right? I've been here with you for about two weeks now, I think" I falter, genuinely unsure which day of the week it is. These last two weeks have been hell, watching the most important person in the world to me slowly fade away.
"No, silly" she says, and fakes a smile. "It's Valentine's day"
"It is? Oh. Uhm. I don't have any flowers. I should've paid attention"-
"Shh. It's fine. You've stayed in here with me for so long, it's fine. Remember out first V-Day?"
"Yeah. Man, that was a good weekend" I can almost smell the pines by the cabin we rented.
She almost giggles a little. "I definitely agree with that"
"So what's that machine called again?" I ask, pointing to the one monitoring her brainwaves.
"No clue. Let's call it the brain scanner"
We sit in silence for a while.
"So how are you feeling?"
She sighs, and doesn't answer.
"Vinyl, tell me. Should I get a nurse?"
"No, Alt. They aren't miracle workers. The migraine is worse then ever, the lights are burning my retinas, I'm paralyzed so I can't itch this itch on my neck, and every little bit of contact my skin makes nearly kills me" I let go of her hoof, not wanting to cause her any discomfort. "Please don't" she says pleadingly. "Knowing that your here with me is worth all the discomfort. Please hold on to me"
I take her hoof again. Unbidden, the memories of the accident come back to me.
We were on the way home from a movie. She was running ahead, laughing, telling me to keep up. She ran around a corner. Abruptly, the laughing stops, and is replaced by a short scream of pain, and a hollow thud.
I rounded the corner, and saw her limp and broken body laying on the cement. A truck speeds off further up the street. It might have been my imagination, but I could've sworn I saw the dent she made when it hit her.
I turn my attention to her. She appears to be dead. I gently shake her shoulder, saying her name. She doesn't respond.
The ambulance arrived. The immediately get to work on her. Through out the entire process, she's unresponsive. I can't handle it. I collapse on the sidewalk next to her. If it wasn't for her limbs splayed at an awkward angle, it would've been impossible to tell who was the one hurt.
One of the paramedics helps me up, and gets me into the ambulance.
Three hours later, I'm let into her hospital ward. Her brain is swelling due to trauma. They can slow it, but they give her two weeks tops.
"Hey" Vinyl says, snapping me out of my memories.
"Huh?"
"You had that look on your face. That dark, moody face. Don't think of how it happened, alright?"
"Sorry. I should've been paying more attention to you? Thirsty?"
"No, I'm fine" she smiles a little. "Your not my maid. Normally I'm the maid. After all, I'm the one with the outfit"
"Sorry, I'm just"-
"Oh my god, do I have to go to my deathbed hearing you apologize for everything?"
I almost say sorry again. "Alright"
The newly named brain scanner starts to beep irregularly. At almost the same time, Vinyl flicks her ears in annoyance. "Oh god, that's a strong one"
"What is?"
"The headache. It's"- she grits her teeth. "Fucking bad"
The beeping starts missing beats.
"It's gone. Well, not really. It's changed. But, I don't have long. I can feel myself mentally falling apart. You'll stay with me and talk, right?"
I cover her hoof with two of mine. "Yeah, of course. What does it feel like?"
"It's indescribable. The pain is muted, but the mental feeling is..." Her eyes become unfocused for a moment. "What where we talking about?"
"Just how your head feels. Just keep talking to me"
"No, I don't want to talk about how I feel. Can you tell me about our friends? I'm having such a hard time remembering them"
A sinking pit of dread fills my stomach. Not today. "Well, what do you remember?"
"I- I can't. It's all fading" her voice becomes weak. "Help me, I'm scared. I don't want to go" There's a note of fear and desperation that I've never heard in her voice. We both know what's coming.
"It's okay. I'm right here. I'll stay with you until the end"
She locks her eyes on me. "Hug me one last time. Don't let go"
I pull the sheet off of her. I pick her up off her bed a little, ad wrap my arms around her. She seems so small and fragile.
I can feel her shaking, afraid for what's on the other side, and for having to face it alone. She grips me tightly. "I love you" she whispers to me.
"I love you more" I respond.
We stay locked like this for over five minutes. But then her grip loosens. I set her down fearing the worst. But she's still breathing.
She makes eye contact with me. Her face doesn't light up like it normally does when she sees me. "Who are you?" She asks me.
I sit on the edge of her bed. Not breathing. I've just been shot in the heart, hit with a sledgehammer, ran over by a truck. The effect would still be the same. I hold back the tears. I should leave now, before I see her go. "I'm a friend of yours" is all I manage to say.
"Oh. Why am I here? And why does my head hurt so much?"
"It's" my voice catches. My vision blurs. "It's nothing. You'll be fine"
"Oh. Okay. So what was your name?"
I can hardly respond. "Alternate Rock" is all I manage to choke out.
"Do you have an Advil? This headache is killing me"
That phrase nearly finishes me right then and there. There's a sedative on the bedside table that the doctor left for when the time came. I pick it up and hand it to her.
"Thanks. I know this is stupid, but what's my name again?"
"Vinyl. You're Vinyl Scratch, but your more then a name. Your a very special and unique person. You're caring and compassionate, despite, or maybe because of the hate you get. You are a generous friend, going without so those few who have accepted you have what they need. You love sleeping in until it's noon, and you like staying up after midnight. You love your music as loud as it will go. Your favorite color is blue. You like salads, but not bananas. Your a deejay, your stage name is DJ-PON3. We live together. You're important to me. I'm important to you. We promised never to forget each other. We promised..." I single tear slips free. A second one follows, but then they stop.
The room is cold all of a sudden. I have a feeling I'm the only living thing left in this room. Not only the room, but as if I'm the only living thing left on this planet.
I look at her. She appears to be sleeping. But she's not breathing. Her cardiograph has flatlined. Her hoof has gone limp in my two.
It's unfair. I can hear people in the other rooms, celebrating V-Day with their loved ones. Most of them are on their way to recovery. So much laughter, in a place so cold. It's unfair.
And now I truly am alone in this universe. As much as I supported her, she supported me.
I hang onto her hoof, as if it's a lifeline. But it's just the opposite.
I let go of the tears I've been holding back. They come down in a flood, leaving little wet spots on her bed spread. I grip her hoof tighter.
My chest feels as if it's made of steal, thick and unmovable. It's an effort to force the stale air out, and even harder to pull fresh air in. Every beat of my seems impossible.
"You alright, sir?"
I look up. The nurse is in the doorway. "She's gone"
Three years later
I walk into the bar. I come here frequently, although I only know the bartender.
"The normal" I tell the tender, not looking at him.
"And what would that be?" A new voice says. I look up at him. A tall, but thin black Pegasus.
"Cider, in the bottle. Who are you?"
"Mah name's Lonepone. Yours?"
"Just call me Alt"
"Alright, Alt. Why you looking so glum? Girl problems?" He asks with a cocky smile.
"Third year anniversary of her death" I say gruffly, wiping that smirk off of her face.
"Ouch. Who was she?" He asks, handing me my drink.
"Vinyl Scratch. She was a DJ and a composer"
He stands there, mouth hanging open, a look of pure shock on his face. "White coat, blue striped hair, eighth note for a cutie mark?"
"How do you know her?"
"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me. Follow me, your story has just begun"
He gets up and walks away. I take a drink from my bottle, and follow him.
Author's Note
So, this obviously is the start of something. But I might not be working on that something for a while. Points to anyone who can guess what it is.
