The Black Parade

1. The End.

There's a distant beeping sound, but I can't seem to glue my memory together enough to figure out where I am. My eyes open very slowly, revealing a white room with bright lights. I turn my gaze to a heart monitor, quickly figuring out that it was where the beeping came from. I carry my gaze over to plastic chairs lined against the walls, one occupied by a woman staring at me with makeup smeared down her cheeks. She smiles and gets up, walking to my bedside. The bed is rather uncomfortable, digging into my skin sharply. The woman grabs my hand, staring into my eyes.

"Are you feeling any better?" She asks softly. I sigh.

"No, you know that." I croak. I smile at her. "I encourage your smile." I say to her, voice hoarse. "I expect you won't cry when I'm leave." She tears up, no doubt about to go on about how I shouldn't die before her. I don't want to hear her selfish reasoning. I hold up a hand, shaking my head.

"I- uh- well," she starts, stuttering. "Anything else you might want to say?" I know what she's expecting. She's expecting an 'I love you'. But I was never really a people pleaser. I grab a pad and pen from the bedside table.

'If you look in the mirror and don't like what you see, you can find out firsthand what it's like to be me.' I write, handing it to her. She looks at the paper, confusion clouding her eyes. I knew she wouldn't get it. I didn't expect it to.

"When I grow up, I want to be nothing at all." I sing softly, it coming out scratchy and displeasing. I turn to the beginning of the song. "Come one, come all to this tragic affair." I frown sadly, knowing the end is coming. I really didn't want it to end this way. But how else could it end, anyways? It always ends in death. I've always been afraid of death, mostly because I have no idea what death will bring. I feel as if religion blocks peoples' fear, and that is all is good for. "When I grow up, I want to be nothing at all." I say, and she looks up when my voice cracks even more. "Which is good, isn't it? Since I won't even get that far."

"No, don't say that!" She exclaims, throwing the now-forgotten paper onto the floor. "You're not even old enough to drink yet! You're only eighteen! You haven't even gotten to-... To live..." She says, breaking down towards the end. I scoff.

"You know I never wanted to live on a planet full of selfish beings. I never wanted to be one, myself." As I finish my sentence, a nurse comes in. I try not to flinch at her bright white gown. "I never want to drink anyways. I've seen too many good people go down a dangerous path because of it." She sighs, sitting back in her seat across the room while the nurse checks anything. That's when I feel it. The deep pain in my chest, my heart beating deeper and quicker. The nurse looks worriedly at my heart monitor, frantically pressing the emergency button. Doctors and nurses rush in, and the woman that had spoken to me appears. I pull her down so I could whisper in her ear. "Save me." I whisper. Then the beeping turns to a dull alarm, and I suddenly cannot feel anything. I cannot see anything. But I can still hear the rush of the doctors, the dull sound of the heart monitor, the false cries of the guest in the room. I guess I'm dead.