Fake Your Death

Honey This Mirror Isn't Big Enough For The Two Of Us

"Well I'll choose the life I've taken, never mind the friends I'm making."

You, Frank, Mikey and Ray walked very close to one another through a dimly lit hallway, not wanting to encounter anything creepy.

The hallway was lit in a lemon coloured glow, with bare walls that had a puce coloured paint peeling off to expose the wood underneath. Not even doors. There was absolutely nothing.

"So this is the final chapter," Ray mused.

"More like the beginning than anything else," Frank added.

The four of you were wearing casual clothing, you back in your comfortable hoodie and jeans. The only real noticeable changes was that Frank had lighter coloured hair slightly spiked up in the front and Ray's hair was a lot shorter.

Mikey took off his glasses again. "But where's Gerard?"

You shrugged. "Dunno."

You walked in silence, trudging past the paint coming off in long strips, Frank in the front and Mikey in the back.

Frank stopped, and you nearly ran into him. "What's that up there?"

You stood on your toes, craning your neck over Frank's shoulder.

The hallway finally had opened up into a large room, with only one light that shone right over a door in the middle of the room.

"Why is there a door without a wall?" Mikey queried.

"Has anything we've been through made sense?" Ray asked him.

"Fair enough."

Frank moved to the side, nudging you forward. "Go on. You have the note."

You took a step in the direction of the door. "What if it's more crows?"

"Or Gerard," Mikey encouraged you gently. "You can do it."

You felt your stomach contract, making you feel uncomfortably nervous. Shakily, you walked across the dusty wooden floorboards up to the door.

It was a grand door, made of solid oak wood, dark in colour. You noticed writing similar to that on the ringmaster headstone in the graveyard and the word on the boards back in the church.

'Beginning?' It read.

You smiled to yourself, thanking the writer of that simple word.

That's what you all needed.

A beginning.

"We need Gerard," you stated confidently, grasping the brass doorknob firmly and opening the door.

Oddly enough, there was a small room inside. About the size of a broom closet.

In the back of the 'broom closet', there was a crouched figure, surrounded by papers. You caught a few of the words like 'joke' or 'failure' and 'letdown' was repeated several times.

"Gerard," you said to the figure, a plea for him to come out.

He slowly turned to look at you.

Messy black hair, a dark hoodie, hooded eyes that looked beyond tired, and shaking hands.

"Why won't the voices stop?" He asked you.

"Voices?" Echoed Frank.

Ray hushed him. "Let them help Gerard."

"The voices will get quieter," you told him, not unkindly. "Come on."

He looked at you, slowly extending his hand, slightly trembling.