He Sees Things

Hysteria

Matthew Bellamy.

The 28 year old British Punk who saw things no one should ever see.

Things that drive people to madness.

He'd almost slipped away but had managed to catch himself from succumbing to his dark thoughts.

The things he saw in question?

Visions of the deaths of every single person he'd ever laid eyes on.

His mother, his father, his only friend Chris that had been the only one to stick with him for so many years.

Matthew saw it all.

His mother died at the hands of a criminal mass murderer, tortured until she bled out and died. The killer had taken her head as a trophy and left the body for the police to find.

His father, killed in a bombing attack in the office building where he worked. He didn't die from the explosion but from the smoke that suffocated him while he was stuck under the debris and rubble.

Chris, killed whilst playing bass in his band. An angry and pissed up audience member in the club he played at stabbed him multiple times and left him half conscious on the floor to bleed out and die just as the ambulance arrived.

The visions came at anytime but they were most common at night. Matthew first got the visions at five. He was terrified when he'd saw the family dog killed in a car crash, the poor thing panting as it laid in the middle of the road. His parents didn't know what to do about it. They'd searched for someone to help their son for years but no one could. It was a phenomena no one had ever seen.

In time, however, Bellamy had learned to deal with his burden. High school was hell for him. He could barely focus on getting anything done in class due to the fact that whenever he looked up, his eyes caught sight of someone and a vision overtook him.

10 years later and Matthew hadn't changed much.

He was jobless yet financially sound,(the government paid for his living due to his strange case) and lived in a flat. Devon was boring but it was still home.

The punk lifestyle was something he'd picked up from his pessimistic view of life. Matt had always gotten angry and the punk scene was there for him whenever it happened. There was always something for them to be angry about, so he was welcomed with open arms.

Matthew was a pale and lanky bloke with dyed blue hair and an off putting demeanor. He never looked anyone in the eye and stayed quiet when people tried to interact with him. That is, unless they annoyed him, which come to think of it was quite often.

Chris was the only person that he talked to anymore. The two of them shared a flat together, so Matt never had to be left alone with his thoughts at home.

That was dangerous.

It had happened before and Matt wanted to make sure it's never happen again. He didn't want to hear those screams and gunshots and see the blood.

All that blood....

"Stop it."

Matt hissed harshly at himself, rubbing his eyes harshly in an effort to make the gory images in his mind go away.

Bellamy sat alone on a bench outside of a pub, watching the cars whiz by. People walked past him, giving him strange looks as they took in his appearance.

A ripped black long sleeved shirt with the torn off sleeves of a black hoodie that he'd long since turned into patch material had been sewed onto his long sleeves. In fact, when he pushed his shirt sleeves down all the way, the jacket sleeves covered his hands just enough so that you could only see his fingers and a small bit of his knuckles. He also wore red stressed baggy jeans that tucked into heavy black combat boots that stopped at his calves.

Suppose I'm a strange sight. Not that it matters...
Matt absentmindedly thought to himself as a bloke with messy blonde hair passed by him. His eyes shifted to the man's chin, a technique that he'd learned to avoid seeing the visions.

Matthew looked away as quickly as he had looked towards the man in the first place. He frowned as he heard the footsteps coming from the person in question stop in front of him.

"Bloody hell..."

The punk mumbled to himself, just quietly enough to not be heard by the mysterious man that had stopped in front of him.

The blue haired man quickly took out a pack of fags to distract himself and lit one up, shoving the carton back into his pocket as he puffed out smoke in an almost anxious manner.

"You okay, mate?"

Matt could feel the man staring down at him.

"Oh, fuck off!"

He spat at him, his usual sure way of scaring people away. To his surprise, it didn't work this time. Instead the man sat down next to him and remained quiet.

Matt looked over and took in the details of the person's backside as he held the fag between two fingers. He had short, scruffy blonde hair that just covered his ears with a couple tattoos on one arm and wore a pair of extremely worn out jeans with what looked to be a Radiohead shirt on. Matthew loved that band, although he hadn't loved the reaction he'd gotten from Thom Yorke when he'd decided to share the songs that he recorded to the lead singer.

Hope you're not releasin' these to the public, Matt.

Thom had said.

They're not original. Just sounds like some a my songs. You wouldn't get a good reaction anyways. I just don't want you to get your hopes up for a career that'll never happen, that's all.

Ever since that experience, Matt had degraded his music making skills to the point that he barely even touched the guitar or piano or even just sang anymore.

He looked over at the man sitting next to him and a sudden rush of anger overtook him as he was reminded of those bitter memories.

"Did you not hear me, you wanker? I said-"

"I heard you, Matt."

The man's voice interrupted his, leaving the other in stunned silence.

How had he known his name?

"How did you-?"

Bellamy was interrupted again as the man sitting next to him spoke up.

"Matt Bellamy or The Muser as you used to like to call yourself. You used to perform in the pub behind you, remember? I used to come see you every Friday night and then you stopped coming in. Why?"

Matthew took a deep shaky breath. This lad was seriously intimidating him and he hadn't even seen his face yet.

What would his eyes look like?

Fuck... Would he even want to know?

"I...."

Matt tried to come up with an excuse but couldn't. He was at a loss for words. This man was doing things to him.

And then the man turned to face him.