Scömìche One-Shots

Reincarnated

Dedicated to: PTX_Pentaholic99

"Scott! Scott oh my god... no. No! He can't be dead!" Mitch screamed. He thrashed in his mother's arms as he tried to get near his best friend's still body. They were in the middle of the road, which had been blocked off by the cops. He could see Scott laying on the ground, paramedics working furiously over him. Mitch started sobbing and broke away from his mom. He was ready to run to Scott, but was held back by his father. His dad put his arms around his son's waist and held him in place.

"Dad! Let me go!" Mitch said. His father said nothing and Mitch stood there, helplessly watching as the paramedics pumped his best friend's chest, furiously trying to revive him. They kept at it, and Mitch never tore his eyes away from the sight.

My best friend. He's gone, Mitch thought as the tears continued to pour down his face. 

"9:37 pm," A paramedic called out. "Time of death." Mitch screamed and with a sudden burst of energy he ran forward, out of his father's arms and ran to Scott's dead body. He wrapped his arms around the lifeless form and just sat there, crying, grieving over his lost best friend.

-

August 17th

Mitch jerked awake suddenly, sitting up quickly. It was the 5th time in a row he had dreamt of the horrid memory of his long lost best friend, and the way he died.. It's been 10 fucking years, He thought, swallowing. Scott had been in the car with his drunken father, and they'd swerved into a ditch. That had been the end of the Hoying men.

He placed his hand on his chest and felt that it was moist. He'd started sweating. He reached up to swipe the hair out of his face and a thin sheer layer of sweat covered his forehead. He took a few deep breaths as he looked at the clock next to his bedside table. The time read 4:30 am. He hadn't gotten a full night's sleep in 2 weeks. 

I might as well get up now. No chance of sleep for the rest of the night, He thought. He stood up and picked up his gray towel from it's place on the floor. He walked into the bathroom to take a shower, hoping a steaming shower would calm him down and relax his tense muscles.

He stepped out of the shower, taking a deep breath. He looked up at the smoke from the hot shower that was traveling around the bathroom, fogging the mirror. He ran the towel through his black hair quickly before wrapping it around his waist. He stepped forward and wiped the mirror in one swift motion with his hand. He continued to wipe off the fog until he could see himself clearly. He looked gaunt. He was skinny, really skinny, and he had large bags under his eyes. His beard was unkempt and his hair was decent, but only because his friend, only friend now that he thought about it, Kirstie, occasionally cut it for him.

So beautiful

Mitch jumped and looked around. "Not again," He murmured quietly. "I thought it was gone."

He exited the bathroom and changed in a hurry, not bothering to do anything with his hair. He rarely styled it- what was the point anyway? He checked the time, it was only 5:26 am. He checked his notes and sighed. He had breakfast with Kirstie at 10 in the morning, and another therapy session at 1 pm. A job interview at 7 and nothing else. He didn't want to do any of it.

He walked into his small living room and turned on the TV, setting the volume down so low so that the TV was only background noise. He sat on his only couch and stared blankly ahead, not planning on moving for at least the next 4 hours.

And that was just fine.

-

"So you're hearing the voice again?" Kirstie asked, staring at him with concern. Or as much concern as a person eating a stack of pancakes could muster, at least.