Merry Go Round | Andy Biersack

7 - Andy?

My eyebrows furrowed as I looked at the pen in Miss Walter's hand. "Just a little souvenir, they were giving away free pens at my work and I thought you might like it," she said when she noticed my confused expression.

Being polite, I gladly took the offer. The gesture was random, but an innocent pen wouldn't hurt anyone. It was a small shiny black pen with a nice silver carving at one end reading the brand name 'Sharpie.' For such a basic company, this pen looked very high quality, unlike their usual markers and pens.

"Bye Miss Walter," I thanked her for the food and the gift. Emily and I headed to her grey Camry car. I insisted on walking home but she refused my denial.

"I have legs, I can walk."

"It's cold and I feel bad."

"Don't feel bad."

"Do you not like me anymore?" She pouted. Her puppy dog eyes surmounted my urge to protest. She was guilt tripping me, and it worked.

"Fine. I hate you."

She was triumphant about her victory as her tough stuck out like a child fighting with their sibling, "I love you too."

After the little dispute, Emily brought the car to life, the heater coating us with warmth. We pulled out of the driveway and rode down the narrow city road. Our heads bobbing to KISS blasting on the stereos as we passed old city buildings.

"If anything else goes wrong, call me, okay?" She said concerned. "My mom and I and heck even my dad and little brother can help"

"I got it, there's no need to babysit me," I looked out the window and watched the leaves twirl as we zoomed by.

Emily was quiet for a bit before she spoke up, "I'm serious." my head nodded, here we go with the over-protectiveness. My skinny fingers played with the gifted pen. The top compressed and decompressed, the clicker obnoxiously abused throughout the entire ride—it was a great stress reliever.

"I know and I will, Em. But for Christ sake, I can handle myself. This isn't 9/11, I'll be fine. The world won't end for another billion years. Plus, I've learned to live without my parents for three years now, I think I can handle whatever life puts in my way."

The familiar white apartment complex came into view. She pulled up to the curve. "I know you can handle yourself, but what if that one last branch snaps? Just please, be safe." Our arms wrapped around each other before I got out of the car. I agreed to whatever she said without second guessing, then we exchanged goodbyes.

My thoughts jumbled in my head as I walked through the front entrance of the complex—Emily was acting up more than the typical protective best friend.

I closed the door behind me and locked everything up. The temperature in the room had dropped to fifty degrees, it was so cold I could see puffs of white smoke escape my shivering lips. I toggled with the thermostat and turned the heater on.

I dropped my keys onto the kitchen counter and grabbed a bag of chips. My hair danced in the air as I hopped to the other side of the kitchen to grab a cup of yogurt. I ripped open the bag of chips, the crumbling brought satisfaction to my ears.

On the shiny tip of the bag, I noticed a reflection of flashing lights. I stared at the bag, baffled, but my eyes descended to the origin of the strobe lights. It was coming from the living room.

The lights flashed like a rave, they were so bright, I thought I went blind. I swiftly turned the corner to see the tv running. The television played an old 60s movie with the sound extremely low. I must have forgotten to turn it off on the way out.