part [?], chapter 2

It was two in the morning when he suddenly awoke. He stared, unblinking, at the ceiling for a few seconds before he felt it. His breath hitched in his throat and he tried to gather the strength to sit up. He felt like he was choking as he reached the button and pressed it.

Everything else was a blur. He saw them come in and surround him, stick his arm with a needle. The last thing he thought of before he went under was, I want to see Clayton.

Slowly the linoleum floor came into focus. He was laying on his side, and he could see someone standing a distance from his bed. They were wearing boots that were covered in mud.

He opened his eyes all the way and turned his head to see who it was. Clayton stared back at him with sad, wide-open eyes, holding a bouquet of flowers. He could hear the rain hitting the roof.

Then came his quiet voice. "Thomas?" he said, looking like he was seeing a ghost in front of him. He took one step back. "They said you weren't going to wake up." He took another step back, and then broke into a run out of the room.

He couldn't quite think coherently, but as Clayton left Thomas swore he could see a hearing aid in his ear. When did he get that? he thought. As the footsteps of people echoed toward him, he fell back under.

part [?]. chapter 1

Even if the auditorium was empty, he poured his heart and soul into the song. Even if no one was ever going to hear him play again, it was his everything, because that was all he had left.

His friends were fighting amongst themselves, his parents were dead, his girlfriend had left him for some guy overseas. And every time he went to sleep, the girl with the white hair told him a story.

"It was such a long time ago," she would say in her strange high voice. "You wouldn't remember. I wouldn't remember. As far as we're concerned, it never happened. In that place you poisoned yourself. Your parents were separated by death. Clayton shot himself when he was thirty, and you never even met Thomas because he died of a heart attack when he was only sixteen." She would smile a little. Flip her hair off of her shoulder.

"Aren't you glad we're not there now?"

He started to feel cold, and stopped playing, glancing around the room to really make sure no one was there. He closed his eyes.

She knelt next to him and whipsered, "Aren't you scared?"