Repression ▶ M•C ▶ 2/3

Chapter 36

                  

Georgie's POV

I was starting to panic now. My heart was racing, my face was sweating and I struggled to breath around all these people. It was so hard to make out anyone in the crowds, I would grab on to someone and they would shove me off and look at me like I was a freak. I felt like I was going crazy, I felt so isolated from everyone I knew. "Michael" I started screaming, shoving people out of the way to get towards any light. There were flickers of torches coming from inside the kitchen and I tried to make out who it was. There were three torches; I had found three of my friends. I ran towards them, almost falling over on the way, but I made it. "George?" Luke looked alarmingly at me. "Have any of you seen Michael?" I panted. Cat and Harriet were also standing with him, with neon paint all over them. "I saw him a while ago, he was on the phone to someone, I think he went upstairs" Cat smiled, noticing the distress in my voice. I thanked her, then didn't waste any time and pushed my way back through to the staircase.

What was wrong? Why was he on the phone to someone? Was it important? What if he has a secret girlfriend and all this time he was using me, making me fall in love with him for just a sick game? But what if something horrible has happened, maybe I'll go upstairs and find that he's packed all his things and has gone, or maybe I'll walk in on him fucking someone else? I had to stop think about all the negative situations, what if something good has happened? Maybe he's won the lottery or their band has been signed by a record label? Who knows what could be waiting for me when I get upstairs. I pulled myself up the steps and onto the first floor. I couldn't believe that no one had come up here, everyone had stayed downstairs and danced rather than come up here where there's more space. It didn't bother me, it meant that I had less mess to clean up in the morning; it meant that none of my belongings or anyone else's would be stolen.

I still wasn't quite sure what the time was, I had left my phone in my room and hoped that everyone would be gone by around two. But it felt like the party had been going on for a lot longer than that and I didn't know when I should start to ask people to leave. It had been fun though, I think someone might have given me drugs in my drink but at least I'll remember this night for a long time, which is what I wanted to happen in the first place. I walked along the dark corridor, listening for any voices from the various rooms. Maybe Michael had gone into a different room, whoever he was on the phone to must have been important otherwise he wouldn't have answered it during a rave. The more I thought about who might be one the other end of that phone the more worried I got, causing me to feel nauseous and dizzy. I put my hand against the wall and leaned on it to steady myself. I took a few deep breaths before I started walking again. It was quiet; I couldn't hear anyone on the phone at all. I checked every room I walked past and no one was in them, he had to be in my room.

My head was still pounding with the music and I think I might have hearing problems for the next few days. I was starting to feel the after effects of the drugs I must have taken, I was tired, heavy and disoriented. I knew I would probably be too drunk to remember most of this night, but I made sure Cat would take lots of pictures to refresh the memory of anyone's that's a bit hazy. I was thinking about all these things, trying to distract myself from what I had to face in a few seconds once I opened my bedroom door. Thinking about other people's lives was a lot better than overthinking my own. All I would do is make myself worry more, making out that when I opened the bedroom door a huge serial killer would jump out and slice me in half with a huge butcher knife, with Michaels bloody body lying on the floor. I overthought things; make them seem a lot scarier than they actually are. For most of my childhood the monster underneath my bed was my mother, I never understood why. I was more interested in other people's lives, I knew everything about mine and it was boring. Everyone else is so much more interesting, true most of their lives have not been happy but at least they overcame it and our now better people because of it.

All my friends have experienced pain and heartache on a totally new level, the only pain I've ever felt is when my uncle died and I thought that was enough pain to last me a lifetime. But some have been through so much worse, I know Cat has had a pretty bad time and has dealt with it, so has Ashton, Gwyn, Harriet and probably some of the others in our group. They're all so much braver than me, they carried on and made their lives better, they let go of their past and made plans for their future. I wanted to be like them so badly.

I arrived at my bedroom door and paused, listening for any noise. There was something quiet, hard to hear, coming from inside and I assumed it was him. He was probably on the phone to his mum, I know how much he loves hearing from her, and they can be on the phone for hours and still have plenty to say. Or maybe I'm completely overreacting about everything and he came up for a bit of air and lost track of time. He might have just fallen asleep, I think that was what I was hoping to find. I hesitated, what if he's having an important phone call and I just storming in? So I decided to twist the door handle as quietly as I could, and opened the door in silence. To my surprise, the room was dark, and after a few seconds of no one speaking, I thought he wasn't here.

But then I heard it, a soft timid whimper coming from next to the bed on the other side of the room. I froze; I had no idea how to react. Was it him? If so then what was wrong? I felt sick with anxiety, pretty sure I was going to throw up all over the carpet. But I held it back and slowly moved across the room. "Mike?" I whispered, the noise of the music still overpowering the silence of the room. I went to one side of the bed and turned the lamp on, giving me a clear view of the scene. There were things throw around, books and photo fames, I was so confused. I saw him out of the corner of my eyes, curled up in a tight ball on the floor at the end of the bed. I couldn't see his face, but I noticed how heavy he was breathing and instantly knew that this was where the crying sounds were coming from. I didn't even hesitate; I collapsed on the floor beside him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. "Hey, baby, what's wrong?" I soothed, rubbing his back and rocking him gently. He let out a small sob before her looked up at me. His eyes were completely blood shoot and tears were rolling down his cheeks. "Michael you're scaring me, what's happened?" My voice changed tone, as I took one hand off his back and wiped the tears off his cheeks and from under his chin. He shut his eyes again and lowered his head. "It's my mum" The words only just managed to come out. I felt a pain in my chest and my eyes started to sting. "What's the matter with her? Is she alright?" I held him tighter, as he slowly began to shake his head.

"She's dead, my mum's dead"