Mirrors Don't Reflect; They Reveal

Chapter 8-How Do I Bring Back Loved Ones From the Dead?

Day two hundred twenty: Mikey…

"Gerard, I am so very sorry. I'm sorry. So sorry. I can't express this enough. It's not your fault. It's mine. I realized what had happened. That's why I'm distant. How do I say all this? I finally realized you never went away for a few months. I was in a mental hospital. You distanced yourself from me because you were upset that I went to the mental hospital, and you made a habit of avoiding me. I get it. I distanced myself because you lied to me. I'm sorry. This is the reason why I had you stay away from the Box. I didn't want you to see this before I die because you would call the emergency contact and I would be sent back to that mental hospital, causing you to get even more distant from me and make me feel even worse. To help you remember the exact date I wrote this, just in case: Remember that day I said I was going to go on a walk for a few minutes? And when I came home, you were downstairs talking to Frank? I took that opportunity to come up here and start writing. I'm so sorry. There's one thing I want you to know more than anything else. I love you. So much. I'm not sure if that got to your head, considering you were never around me long enough to understand. But I love you. A lot. And, I'm sure you know the exact day I died. Either that, or you never figured it out, and had found out days, weeks, months, maybe even years later. The day I said I was going up to my room for a nap(of course, this didn't happen yet because I'm here writing my own suicide note. I just…planned this). That wasn't a nap. That thud you heard wasn't me tripping. Or something falling off a shelf. Or me rolling off the bed. It was a chair. Remember the day I untied Frank from his chair? I kept the rope. And weeks later, I…hung it up. Of course, it's not up, now. But it will be when I take that nap. I don't know if you…have seen me dead. I don't know how you found out. I don't know if Frank knows. All I can really say is: Please take care of yourself and Frank for me. I know, it sounds hard. But please, do it for me. If you can't take care of Frank, then at least let him go. It hurts to know you have a werewolf trapped in your basement with access to limited food. At least allow him to pick out what he eats. If not, it's fine. But please, try to just…take care of him. And yourself, of course. I love you so, so much. And, there's something under this note. Remember the day you taught me to write my name? Well, it's better if you see for yourself. But I hope you love it. It's my first and last try at drawing. So it's not the best. It will never be the best. I'm running out of room, so I'll stop writing now. I love you. So much. See you up in Heaven? That is…if I make it to Heaven. I probably won't. I'm sorry. I love you. -Mikey James Way. September 10th, 1980-May 18th, 2000."

It was December 1st, and Gerard was torn. It took him exactly 197 days to read the suicide note Mikey had left behind. He left it in the Box. That's why Mikey didn't let Gerard open the Box. It took Gerard a lot of willpower, but he reached his shaky hands out and grabbed the suicide note, gently folding it up and putting it in his pocket. Beneath the note was a small, brown paper. On it was a very shaky sketch of a rose, with Gerard's name written under it. Gerard grabbed the drawing and stared at it. In his eyes, it was extremely blurry from the tears threatening to spill out. He was surprised his tear ducts still worked. It took him six whole months to read the note. Six whole months of crying. It took him half a year to get over Mikey's death. And Gerard still wasn't over Mikey's death. He knew he never would. Gerard knew things.

Gerard went through another long blur of life because of that note.

It took him eight months, twenty-five days, three hours, and fifty-seven seconds to get over the suicide note.