The Kids are Fine | Kellic (boyxboy)

CHAPTER FIVE | Do You Wanna Get Out Of Here?

Fan art is always welcome! I will SO put it a chapter if you draw a scene from the story!

art by: @ TheParasiteEveSyko

KELLIN'S P.O.V

I stare at my reflection in the drivers side window of my car; I clutch my keys tightly in my right hand. They dig into my palm. I squeeze tighter. I tried searching my reflection for something, though I didn't know what that something was. I'm sure I'd know what it was when I saw it, but I didn't. There was nothing. Still nothing. I blinked and looked away, unlocking my car. The inside dinged as I opened the door and slid in. I grab the wheel and my grip tightens as I just sit for a second, thinking.

The last time I drove my car was the day before I had made the decision to end my life. The day of, I made sure to leave my car in the garage and just walk home from school, then walk to the tracks. I really had no intention of ever getting into this car again. I had no intention of coming home. I had no intention of living to see the next day, and yet, here we are, a week later. Still alive. Sitting in my car. And I still have Vic fucking Fuentes to thank for that. Not really 'thank', of course. More like, blame.

Like I said, it's been a week. I guess the whole, "Oh yeah, by the way, you're not dead," thing takes a while to sink in because I still feel like nothing is really real. Like, I really was hit by the train and everything after that is just a long dream that I'm waiting to wake up from. I wonder if that's what it's like to really be dead. What if, you die, but you're body doesn't really register it? What if that's what's waiting for us, instead of heaven or hell; like, you're dead, yes, but your life just keeps going, and you know something isn't right, everything seems fake and different and just off, but you're the only one who's noticing. Everyone else is just living like normal. I guess that would be some form of personal hell. Anyway, the point is, I feel just as empty as I did the day I was supposed to die. Images of being thrown away from the train flash through my mind. There were still bruises on my ribs as if I needed more reminding. I find as the days pass, when thoughts of Vic enter my mind, I either go though feelings of anger, curiosity, or just some form of numb acceptance. Today, that feeling would be anger.

Maybe it's anger because I haven't heard from him since the night he dropped me off. I don't know why that would make me mad. I was angry at him, anyway; why did I care that he hasn't tried to speak to me again? I've seen him around school, acting completely normal, going about his merry life. All the while, I watch him, he gives me no indication that he's aware. Like, suddenly he exists to me, but I don't to him.

I don't know how to explain it but, I just get so worked up when I think about him out there just living his life all happily, like nothing happened. Nobody ruined his plans. Nobody asked him to stop me and he just went ahead and did it anyway and he's not even sorry! How do you stop someone from killing themselves and then just move right along, back to your normal life, having a big ol' fucking normal time. He hasn't had to feel any of the shit I've been having to feel. Fuck you, Fuentes.

Still, I can't help myself when I wonder what exactly him having a normal time actually consists of. I find myself wondering what he's doing at one moment before I ask myself why I even care to being with. Why do I care about anything? Why should I? What's the point? Another question I've been wracking my brain, trying to find the answer to, is, why do I keep letting myself break down in front of him? Him, of all people. It's humiliating. I mean, I barely know him. I wish he didn't know so much about me when I know little to nothing about him. A part of me didn't mind because of the way he acted so, careless, almost. Like all of this, was a normal thing, something he could handle effortlessly. Like nothing was a big deal. I guess it made me feel like less of a freak. Another part of me found the fact that all of this seemed easy to him, extremely irritating and made me want to punch him in the face. Again.