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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 11, 2005 21:03:26 GMT -5
Well, you know, if something more ensues, then I'd happily accept any interest he might have in me. I'm just trying to be realistic.
Stupid reality...
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 11, 2005 21:16:32 GMT -5
PART 20
“This is fucking nuts,” Mike said, sitting on his couch and drinking a beer. “No kidding,” I murmured, sitting Indian style on the floor and tracing an outline in the carpet. “God, this is all my fault.” “Don’t say that,” Tre groaned. He sat on the couch next to Mike, drinking the non-alcoholic beer he had bought at a Jiffy Mart on the way to Mike’s. “This stuff is a sorry replacement for real beer,” he said to himself, looking at the bottle with a disgusted expression on his face before taking a long swig anyway. “But it is,” I sighed, leaning back on my arms and glancing around at Mike’s house. “Honestly, if it weren’t for me meeting you, do you really think you would be here, hiding out from some possible murderer?” “No,” Tre sighed. “But if it weren’t for me meeting you, my life would probably be pretty boring.” “Boring? You’re Tre Fucking Cool. You live the rock’n’roll lifestyle that people dream of. Your life is far from boring, honey,” I said, blinking at him. If Tre considered his life to be boring, I could only imagine how lame my life would’ve appeared before this whole Tim fiasco began. “Rock’n’roll lifestyle? There is no such thing, Vicky. It’s just something ‘rock stars’ make up so they can live like crazy people and not get blamed for fucking up,” he mumbled. “I live like a lonely rich man.” “Lonely?” Mike asked. He hadn’t really said much since we had arrived. He mostly just listened. “Yeah. It’s not like Claudia bothers with me. She only worries about herself and Frankito. That’s it. Nothing else is important to her. I used to matter, but now I don’t. I was once her husband, now I’m just her baby’s daddy.” Tre slid back into the sofa, swishing the “beer” around in it’s bottle. He seemed depressed, but then again, I couldn’t really blame him. “What about me?” I asked. “Before you,” he sighed. “So, are you two, like, a couple now?” Mike asked. “All depends,” I grunted. “A couple of what?” Tre snorted, but Mike didn’t really seem to find my cheesy pun-filled sense of humor very funny. “Seriously. Are you guys together?” “I don’t know,” Tre said, looking over at me. “Are we?” “I guess,” I shrugged. “Sounds good to me,” Tre added. So it was official. Not the most official beginning of a relationship that I’d ever experienced, but with Tre everything seemed so spontaneous, so the fact that our relationship began this way didn’t really surprise me. He scooted over on the couch and patted the area next to him. I stood up, tugged some wrinkles out of my shirt and approached him. Instead of sitting next to him, though, I plopped myself down on his lap. He leaned forward and kissed me. He smelled different than normal, kind of like some fancy, floral soap. It was strange, but I liked it. “Get a room, will ya?” Mike groaned before standing up. “I’m going to bed.” He retreated down the hallway. “Good night,” he called. I pulled away from Tre’s lips long enough to call in response, “Good night, Mike!” After that, I stared at Tre for a second. “I’m tired,” I said. “Running around and avoiding psycho ex-boyfriends is hard work.” “No shit,” Tre said. “I didn’t exactly expect for it to be a piece of cake.” I laughed, then stood. “Good night,” I said. Tre stood up as well. “Good night,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close for my goodnight kiss, which almost turned into us having sex on Mike’s couch, but I pulled away from Tre and reminded him of how tired I was. “Fine,” Tre sighed, sounding disappointed. “See you tomorrow.” “Okay,” I said, smirking a bit as I headed to the guest bedroom Mike had shown me to earlier that evening. Not long after I fell asleep, I started having the nightmare. I was sitting at my kitchen table in my apartment. Mike and Billie were there, but Tre was nowhere to be found. I was eating Pop Tarts and Mike was reading the newspaper. Billie was having a glass of orange juice. Mike suddenly dropped the paper and looked up at us. “Oh my God,” he said. “They found Romy’s body.” That was the end of the dream. I’m pretty sure that if I had woken up on my own, I would’ve finished the dream and it would’ve probably made sense, but instead I was woken by a car’s floodlights filling the room and shining directly in my eyes. I sat up in bed and climbed over to the window, only to see an oh-so-familiar car parked in Mike’s driveway.
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Post by Kill on Jun 11, 2005 21:31:03 GMT -5
Awesome! Write more, but not too much since I won't be able to read it for a while!
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 11, 2005 21:50:52 GMT -5
Okay, this part is super long, so sorry. PART 21 (Yay, my story can legally drink)
“Tre! Tre! TRE! Get up and open the fucking door!” I practically screamed. “What’s going on?” Mike asked, leaning out of his bedroom door. “Tim’s here,” I said, shaking furiously as I blinked at Mike. “What?!” Tre basically screeched as his bedroom door flew open. He blinked at me, as if he was unsure of what I had said. “Here? Are you sure?” I nodded. “Unless somebody stole Tim’s car and parked it in the driveway,” I whispered. “Oh my God, he could be in the house right now.” Mike’s eyes widened. “Vicky, get in here and stay in here,” Tre said as he pointed to the room behind him. “Call 911 if you can. Hide somewhere. Mike and I’ll take care of things.” I looked at Mike, who seemed very hesitant about what was going on. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he whispered, but said nothing more. He walked out of his room and over to Tre’s bedroom, out of which Tre stepped and into which I entered. “Stay here,” Tre whispered, leaning forward to kiss me again. As I kissed him, a sudden panic filled me. This might be the last time I ever kiss Tre, I thought. “Promise me you’ll stay safe. I love you more than you could know.” I couldn’t believe I’d actually said that. I’d only known him for a matter of days, but already he meant more to me than any guy I had ever dated. “You have no idea what you mean to me, Vicky,” he said, smiling, as he kissed me once again before rushing off. I slowly closed the door, watching as Tre and Mike headed off until the door had entirely closed. I sank into the dark room, so frightened I could hardly breathe. I felt around in the dark until I felt something remotely like a phone. As soon as I picked up the receiver, the buttons began glowing in the dark, so I quickly dialed, praying that Tre and Mike would be okay. “Hello?” said a friendly voice on the other end. “What’s your emergency?” “Someone’s here. And they’re trying to kill my boyfriend.”
TRE’S POINT OF VIEW I walked behind Mike, shaking almost as badly as Vicky had been. I had never seen her so scared in my life, but then again, I had only known her for a short time. “Why am I walking in front of you?” Mike asked. “I don’t want to be the first one killed.” “You’re being really helpful,” I muttered sarcastically. I didn’t have time to bicker with Mike, though. My life was in danger, and for all I knew, so was Vicky’s. But what if she was mistaken? What if she was seeing things or something. “Should we split up?” Mike asked. “Probably,” I agreed, even though I was really uncertain about that, but I didn’t say so. “Okay, you go toward the kitchen and I’ll check by the garage,” he directed. I nodded, then headed for the kitchen. On the way, I stopped in the living room. Tucked under a large laundry basket was a gun in a pillow case, which I had discovered one time when my washer broke and I came over to use Mike’s. He knew I knew it was there, and I figured he knew I would be using it. I slipped the gun into the pocket of my pants, being extra careful since I knew the safety lock didn’t work. The last thing I wanted was for a gun to go off in my pants. I stepped into the kitchen. There was a large, neon clock over the sink that illuminated the room with a filtered purple light. I looked around. There was no one under the table, no one in the cabinets, behind the fridge or on the counter. I approached the window and looked out through the blinds, just to make sure Vicky wasn’t mistaken. Sure enough, there was a car in Mike’s driveway that I had never seen before. It was red and shining in the light of the streetlamp. I stepped out of the kitchen and headed through the living room. There was no light in the living room, so I couldn’t see anything. Damn it, odds are he was walking around with a big knife, and I would run right into it. That’s when I heard a cold voice say, “Move another step and your friend dies.” I didn’t move. I just listened helplessly to Mike’s muffled moans and wondered what the hell was going on.
VICKY’S POINT OF VIEW I placed the phone back in the cradle and felt around the room. I didn’t dare turn on a light. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to know I was in there. “Oh God,” I whispered as I hit my hand on something sharp. But I kept climbing around until I found what felt like a large chest. I opened it and climbed in, sitting right on top of some lovely sharp objects. They felt like knives, but they were probably the corners of hardcover books or something. I closed the lid as best I could and pulled myself into the fetal position. I breathed heavily and listened for signs of what was going on, but heard nothing. I could only hope that Tim couldn’t hear my heart pounding.
TRE’S POINT OF VIEW “Where are you?” I asked. Probably not the most intelligent question to ask. “I’m right here,” the voice said. “But if you move to find me, he’ll die.” “Don’t kill him. I won’t move,” I promised. I wasn’t going to let this bastard kill Mike or Vicky. If anyone was going to die, it would be either Tim or me. “Alright then. Where’s Vicky?” “Why do you need to know?” I asked. “I want her to see me kill you.” “You sick fuck,” I choked. “Tell me where she is or I’ll kill Mike,” he snapped coldly. “Look, just let Mike go. He’s not involved in this.” “EVERYONE RELATED TO YOU IS FUCKING INVOLVED,” Tim screamed. “YOU DON’T GET IT, DO YOU? I CAN’T JUST LET THE INNOCENT GO!” “Calm down,” I said, feeling stupider and stupider as the words left my mouth. But panic has a habit of making you say stupid things. “I can’t fucking calm down. The love of my life cheated on me with you. Just cause you’re a rock star. She doesn’t love you. I hope you know that. She just wants you for your money. I know you think she’s not like that, but she is. I know her a hell of a lot better than you do. I can tell you that right away.” “She didn’t cheat on you with me. She and I got together after you two broke up.” “She told you to say that,” Tim whispered. “I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid. But I just want you to know, before you die, that she never loved you, and odds are, she never will. Girls like Vicky don’t love guys like you.” “What are you talking about?” I asked, but in the back of my mind, I could fell my subconscious questioning whether or not she was right. Was she only dragging me along for some kind of ride? Was Vicky really a twisted bitch like that. “I bet she told you that she ‘loves you more than you could ever know’ or some shit like that. She tells everyone that. You’re just a soon-to-be heart-broken sucker who fell for it.” She had said that. Those exact words. She didn’t love me. It hit me like a ton of bricks. It was all a lie. I heard Mike’s muffled cries. “Fine,” I said. “If you’re gonna kill me, do it now.” I felt the urge to live slowly leaving me. “Tell me where she is first.” “No,” I said. “Just fucking shoot me.” “You know I’ll find her. I’ll find her and you won’t be there to protect her,” he whispered, sounding vicious. “Like hell you will,” I said.
VICKY’S POINT OF VIEW I sat there, heart racing, waiting for the police to show up, waiting for it all to be over. That was when I heard the gunshot, echoing throughout the house. I clasped my hands over my mouth to stifle my cry. “Tre,” I sobbed. “I love you.” And I really, truly did.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 12, 2005 12:19:56 GMT -5
PART 22
TRE’S POINT OF VIEW “Fuck!” I screamed as a searing pain shot through my arm. It didn’t take me long to figure out what had happened. I had been shot in the arm. “What the hell?” Tim’s voice shook a bit. “Did you just shoot yourself?” “No,” I said. What kind of idiot did he take me for? “You just fucking shot me in the arm.” “Oh shit,” said another voice from my right. I turned a looked. Just barely visible in the light of the glowing clock in Mike’s kitchen was Billie, gun in hand, his eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to shoot you, Tre.” “Well, don’t try to shoot him. He’s got Mike,” I said, clutching my arm where I had been shot and trying not to concentrate on the horrific pain filling my body. Billie’s mouth opened as he prepared to say something, but before he had the chance Mike’s front door flew open. The police officers saw the gun in Billie’s hand and rushed over to him, placing handcuffs on him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Billie screamed. “Are you Tim McHowen?” one of the officers asked. “No. I’m Billie Joe Armstrong,” he said. “Tim McHowen’s over there somewhere.” He nodded toward the dark area. I should hear Tim moving, trying to escape before the police had a chance to investigate. Mike let out a muffled cry, but stopped abruptly. Tim had probably reminded him of his impending doom. One of the officers walked over and flipped on a light switch. I looked around as my eyes adjusted. I was bleeding crazily, almost worse than I had been after the cymbal accident. I was standing just behind Mike’s couch, where Vicky and I had been just a few hours earlier. There was Tim, I assumed. I had never seen him before, but he fit Vicky’s description. He was tall and gangly, with shaggy brown hair and glasses. For somebody so skinny, he appeared to be pretty strong, since he was holding Mike tightly around the neck. Mike’s hands were tied behind his back and he had duct tape over his mouth. Tim was holding a rather large gun to his head. “If you fucking come near me, I’ll blow his brains out,” Tim said, his voice a little more shaky than it had been when he had said this to me. “Let him go,” the officer said, sounding kind of afraid for Mike’s life as well. “It’s not that easy,” Tim said. “You have to give me what I want.” “What is it you want?” the officer asked. “Get me Vicky.” “Vicky?” questioned the other officer, who was still holding Billie back as he struggled violently. “He knows,” Tim said, pointing the gun at me, but returning it to its position beside Mike’s skull after a second. “He knows where she is, too. Don’t you?” “Yeah,” I said. “But you can’t have her. What do you want her for, anyway?” “She still loves me,” Tim said. “As much as you think she loves you, she misses me.” “You’re fucking crazy,” I said. I wasn’t sure if she really loved me, but I sure as hell knew she didn’t love this Tim character.
VICKY’S POINT OF VIEW I could hear screaming, most of it being done by Tim. But I could hear Tre’s voice just the same. He was alive. I let out a heavy breath, which I had kind of been holding since I heard the gunshot. I was sweating inside that chest. I pushed it open and was hit with a blast of cool air. I climbed out, trying to make as little noise as humanly possible. I felt my way around the floor, over to where I had found the phone, and discovered a large box. I opened it and felt through it, finding something that felt kind of like a flashlight. Luckily for me, it was. I turned on the light and searched through the box. It appeared to be filled with all sorts of emergency supplies; a first aid kit, some batteries, a bottle of water, a list of emergency numbers, etc. Then I found what I was looking for.
TRE’S POINT OF VIEW “Let me go,” Billie said to the officer. “We’ve already established that I’m not the killing psychopath.” “I haven’t killed anyone yet,” Tim said. “What about Romy?” I asked. “She’s not dead.” Tim looked at me. “Just tell me where Vicky is and I’ll let Mike go.” I opened my mouth, unsure of what I was going to say. Was I willing to exchange Vicky’s life for Mike’s? I blinked, unsure of what to say. “Tell me where she is,” Tim said. “I’m right here,” Vicky said. Tim turned around, Mike still in his grasp, only to practically go flying backwards. He landed on the couch, a bleeding gunshot wound where his heart was. Mike tumbled onto the ground, still bound, practically screaming. Vicky stood at the end of the hallway, holding a gun and looking scared, as if she was afraid he might wake from his eternal slumber and attack her, or me. “Holy shit,” Billie said, blinking at the scene. “Oh my God, Tre,” she whispered, looking up at me. “I just killed somebody.” She glanced around, spying the police. “And I just confessed to it in front of two police officers.” “Don’t worry about it,” the officer holding Billie said. “It was self defense. You can’t get arrested for something like that.” The other officer nodded and walked over to Mike, beginning to untie him. “It’s all over,” I said, walking over to Vicky. “You got shot,” she whispered, pointing to my arm. “Yeah, well,” I shrugged. “We’ll get him to a hospital,” said the officer who was now peeling the tape off of Mike’s mouth. “Ow,” Mike whined. “Ever since I met you, you’ve just been in and out of hospitals,” Vicky sighed, but she wasn’t smiling. “Thank you.” “Are you thanking me for going in and out of hospitals?” I asked. “No. I’m thanking you for everything. You amaze me.” “I’m not amazing,” I said, looking at her. She looked up at me, her eyes twinkling. She didn’t appear to be someone who had just killed anyone. She didn’t look like someone who would lie about loving you. How could I have been stupid enough to believe a word Tim had said? “Yes, you are,” she said, more or less tossing the gun onto the couch and slipping her hand around my neck. She was still shaking. “I love you.” “I love you, too,” I said, leaning forward and kissing her. “I hate to break this up, but we’ve gotta get you to the hospital before you bleed to death,” one of the officers announced. “Sorry about that,” Billie offered from near the kitchen. I just nodded and followed the officer out to his car. As we drove off, him conversing with me about everything that had happened, I watched Vicky, standing in the doorway and waving at me. She was someone I truly loved.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 12, 2005 12:21:48 GMT -5
I'm starting to toy with the idea of a sequal. I already figured out what's going to happen, I just more or less have to write it out. Unless you think it's a bad idea, in which case I'll just leave it once I finish this story (and I'm almost done...just one or two more parts to go).
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 12, 2005 12:39:42 GMT -5
This is the end. The last part of this story. Now as I mentioned before, I might actually write a sequal, but I'm not sure yet, so don't be anxiously awaiting anything. Sorry if the end of my story kind of sucks.
PART 23
“What the hell happened to my house?” Tre sat on the opposite side of Mike’s living room, cell phone pressed to his ear, and even that far away, I could still hear Claudia’s scream. “I leave home for a few weeks and I come home and, hell, it looks like somebody tore this place apart.” “It’s a long story,” Tre sighed. “A story involving, attempted murderers, cheating, guns and a cymbal accident.” “What the hell?” Claudia screamed again. This time Tre pulled the phone away from his ear, making a weird face. I laughed. “I’ll tell you about it later. I promise,” Tre said, sort of laughing. “Tell me now, damn it,” she said. “Fine,” he mumbled, getting up and walking toward the kitchen, phone in hand. “I was practicing for the new album a couple days ago. Mike and Billie hadn’t shown up yet, and it was just me. And I hit this one cymbal so hard and it just went flying. Right into my forehead.” I could tell Tre was getting a kick out of telling this story. His voice started to fade as he got further and further away from me. It had been a matter of days since Tim had died. Mike decided to let us stay at his house, since Tre’s house was in a shambles. Tre told me he had planned on getting a new house anyway, but I think he just said that so I wouldn’t feel bad. Billie hadn’t been arrested or anything, but they interrogated him about the whole ordeal for a few hours, which really pissed him off because he didn’t really know much. Tre’s arm was getting better, but it still bothered him. His biggest fear was that he wouldn’t be able to play the drums anymore, but the doctor assured him that it wasn’t that bad. Romy was in the hospital, slowly recovering. She was, indeed, a paraplegic, meaning she was paralyzed from the waist down. She told me she was going to go live with her sister in a neighborhood near Tre’s house, so somebody could take care of her. And that meant I had the apartment all to myself. What I was going to do with my own apartment was beyond me. I had lived alone before, for a long time during college, and I didn’t really enjoy it. Tre had told me that once he got his new house, I was welcome to come live with him, but I wasn’t quite sure if that was the best idea. I was considering it, though. Tre’s voice came back into focus. “So we left Billie’s house and came here to Mike’s. And at some point, this Tim guy found out the general area where we live and tore the house apart. I don’t know what he was looking for. I looked around there yesterday and nothing seems to be missing, which is weird. Everything’s just broken.” I wondered if Claudia believed a word he said. I listened as Tre told the rest of the story, all the way up to “and then they took me to the hospital to check out the bullet wound.” Finally, Claudia interrupted to say something, then he said goodbye and hung up. He sat down next to me. “This is going to be one of those crazy stories you tell people and they never believe,” he laughed. “Yeah,” I nodded. “I guess I’m kind of glad I gave you a story to tell.” “I’m glad you did,” Tre said slipping his arms around me and kissing my neck. “That tickles,” I laughed. “You know you love it,” he said. And I did.
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Post by Kill on Jun 12, 2005 13:54:55 GMT -5
AW! I LOVED IT! Sigh. Romance fanfics are so much fun...or however you want to fucking put it. Haha. Now, for me to write like hell!
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