Chapter 18 (ROT)

Christian

He could see it. No one else could but he did. It was so clear yet no one noticed. No one but him. Mitchel changed. (Was changing?) He wasn't the same. Maybe he hasn't been the same for a long time. Why did it take him so long to notice?

Mitchel

Pros and Cons of killing your best friend's girlfriend:

PRO: You don't have to see her ever again.

CON: He can still see her.

PRO: You don't have to hear her ever again.

CON: Her voice haunts you in your sleep. That is if you get any.

PRO: He looks at you just like how he looked at her.

CON: He looks at you just like how he looked at her.

The next few days were one of the hardest that Mitchel had to endure. Though it was like a large weight had been lifted off of his chest, another, much heavier one settled.

No one knew about what happened to Molly. No one but him and Christian. That meant that if Christian let it slip, he just might never see his best friend again.

Molly was a social butterfly and it wouldn't take long for people to realize that she was gone. Mitchel took to watching the news every morning and evening. At night, he scrolled on his phone on local news websites but nothing out of the norm came up. It became his little obsession.

The band continued with their schedule after Clinton returned. With the wedding approaching and their latest album release, there were plenty of things to keep Mitchel's mind occupied but that didn't keep the worry at bay.

And then one day, there was a knock on the door. It was 6:17 at night on a Tuesday evening. The band had just gotten back from the studio and was preparing to make dinner. Clinton had convinced Jesse to be vegan and together they were trying out a stir-fry recipe. Christian was in his room and Mitchel was sitting on the couch, watching the news.

Pat was the one who got the door. No one moved. They had nothing to worry about, after all. And then Pat returned to the couch, his brows furrowed and a frown on his face.

"Who was it?" Mitchel asked, his eyes never leaving the T.V screen. The remote controller that he held was pressed against his lips as he read the small text on the screen.

"The Police," Pat said slowly. Mitchel could feel his friend's gaze on him and that was when he finally looked at him, his heart skipping a beat. He coughed.

"Uh, what did they want?" He asked. Pat glanced at the staircase.

"They're still here and they want Kras," He replied. Mitchel followed his friend's gaze to the staircase that lead to Christian's room.

"Tell me, Mitchel. Is he in trouble?" Mitchel looked back at his friend and forced a small laugh even though he could feel sweat forming on the back of his neck.

"Of course not, you crazy cat," He laughed again and stood up.

"I'll go get him," He said, and headed up the stairs. As he left Pat's line of view, he felt himself exhale and released his clenching fingers. He made his way up to Christian's door and inhaled a deep breath before lightly knocking on the door.

He didn't wait for a reply. Instead, he went right in and found his best friend on his bed. His back was turned to him so he said, "Christian?"

His best friend quickly turned around at the sound of his voice, giving him a small smile. Though he could see his teeth, he knew that there was no light in the man's eyes. He was a smiling empty shell.

"The cops are at the door, Kras," Mitchel started and eased his way inside the room.

"The police?" He asked. His voice was quiet. Distant, even, as if Christian were whispering from a few meters away. Mitchel nodded.

"They wanna talk to you."

Christian got up slowly, his hand brushing against Mitchel's as he made his way out of his room. Mitchel glanced around the room and took in a deep breath, allowing the familiar scent of his favorite person to calm him down before he followed the blond man down the stairs.

As Mitchel walked to the kitchen, he caught a flash of the officer that stood patiently at the front door. Mitchel looked away quickly and slid onto the barstool at the island counter.

"Whose at the door?" Clinton asked airily as he chopped an onion. Mitchel watched as Jesse washed two carrots in the sink.

"The police," Mitchel said, tracing his finger on the pattern of the granite. Clinton looked up quickly.

"What did they want?" Mitchel shrugged. "Don't worry about it. Kras has been clean for months."

"You haven't"

"How do you know?" Mitchel asked, taking his hands off of the counter. Clinton rolled his eyes.

"Give me some credit, you ass. I'm not an idiot." Mitchel pursed his lips and looked away, trying to hear what was being said at the front door. Only a few moments later, Mitchel heard a small wail. That was all it took for him to rush to his best friend's side.

+++

The news wasn't new. It was a reminder. One that he didn't need. The officer stood in front of him with a solemn expression on his face. He looked him in the eyes with pity but Christian could tell that the officer was analyzing him. He could tell that he was going to do more than just break the bad news.

Christian cried. His tears weren't dramatic and didn't come out like water from a sprinkler. He felt the salty liquid run down his cheeks as he sniffled, breathing out short gasps as he recalled the scene of his dead girlfriend on the floor.

He could feel Mitchel approach before he heard him.

"Christian!" His best friend called as he reached his side. He glanced briefly at the officer before taking him by the shoulders.

"What the hell happened?" He asked as he pulled him into a tight hug. Christian gripped onto the back of his shirt and buried his head in his shoulder.

Christian went to the police station to give his statement. He returned an hour or so later and that was the end of it. Until three days later.

+++

Christian

"Why did you kill me?" The woman in front of him asked. She stood in the center of a large lake, unmoving. A gentle breeze lifted her hair from her shoulders and forced ripples in the clear liquid. The strangest thing was that the two of them were surrounded by mirrors. The sky above him was as black as the night without a single star or moon. Yet Her face shone in the night, her reflection dancing in the water.

Her voice was small. She spoke softly though Christian expected her to be harsh. He expected her to yell or cry, to do anything except stand there and look at him blankly. As if she didn't even care about what his answer was.

Christian opened his mouth. He tried to speak but his voice cracked and then refused to come out. His throat was dry. His hands were clammy. He wanted to go to her, to apologize, to ask her what really happened, but he couldn't. His body was frozen.

Molly looked down at the water, watching as it glistened and moved. Fish swam below the two, their scales shimmering as they moved. The sight was beautiful but something was off. Molly sighed and moved her leg, shifting and letting her feet run through the water. She moved with such grace that she could have been mistaken as a ballet dancer.

Her dress soaked more as she moved, the long white fabric darkening as the water seeped through the cloth. A single drop of water fell from Molly's face and only then did Christian realize that she was crying. Her body slightly quivered as she shed her tears and Christian wished that he could go to her. But he was stuck.

Finally, Molly looked up once more. Christian watched with sad eyes as her tears ran down her face and she sniffed, her cheeks and nose turning a blotchy red. The liquid that came from her eyes darkened slowly to a deep shade of red.

"Why?" Molly wailed. Her body shook more.

Christian's voice finally came to him. "I-I didn't do it, Molly, I-" He tried to say, but he stopped short as he watched his deceased girlfriend approach him with unmoving feet. The closer she came, the faster she floated. The closer she came, the louder she got and her voice echoed in the room until it sent harsh ripples in the water.

"Why Christian? What did I ever do to you? Why did you let me die, why wasn't I fucking good enough?" She yelled, her voice sending Christian backward.

His body hit one of the mirrors so hard that he heard his head crack against the glass. He felt the blood ooze out of his head as he watched shards of glass fall to the water. Molly still yelled, her voice vibrating through his head. He lolled his head to the side to see his girlfriend hover over him, her body much larger then. She gripped his shoulders and shook his head, yelling at him though he couldn't decipher her speech. His head smacked the glass each time until he couldn't feel the pain at all.

Spit and blood flew from her mouth, sending flashes of his memory to his mind. He watched with fear as her limp body glitched before his eyes. Her hair frayed and fell as she dug her nails into his skin, her complexion turning blue as black ink ran from her eyes.

He could tell that Molly was crying. He was too. His vision blurred as tears fell from his face. He gasped and sobbed, trying to move in vain as his rotting girlfriend pulled at his body.

"No, it wasn't me, I swear, Molly, I'm sorry I couldn't stop it, I didn't know, Molly, I' m sorry, I'm-"

"You knew!" Molly spat. Christian fought to keep his eyes open but he could feel himself slipping away and his heart slow. "You knew, Christian, and you didn't stop him, It's all your fault!" She sobbed. As she spoke, her body fell apart more as well as her dress that fell from her body and exposed the thick white bone of her rib cage. Even her heart dripped black blood.

Christian tried to pull away from the girl, from her scent and his memories, but they clung to him like a leech and sucked him in as he sobbed. He couldn't get away. The world faded from his eyes until his heart stopped and red blood dribbled from his nose.

Christian gasped as he woke up. His head smacked the headboard and he bit back a yelp as he clung to his head and rocked back and forth as if it would relieve the pain. But it was still there. He could still see her when he closed his eyes. Her eyes stared back at him through his eyelids.

He felt the back of his head and his body which was slick with sweat, his heart racing a mile a minute. He blinked slowly before looking around to see his familiar bedroom, breathing a small sigh of relief before the gloom settled back into his soul.

Molly.

She was gone. Because of Mitchel. Somehow, he was unable to hate him. Maybe it was because he'd known him for so long. Maybe it was because he really did love him. Or maybe it was because he was crazy. But he didn't hate Mitchel. He was sure that he never would.

Mitchel was just as crazy as him that was why they were so good together. That was why they loved each other so passionately. That was why they did crazy things for each other.

Mitchel said it himself: He got rid of Molly for him. He did it so that they could be together. Forever.

+++

Mitchel

Mitchel had a knack for walking in at the wrong time. Some could argue that it was the right time, but usually, when someone's best friend (whose girlfriend happened to die less than a week prior to the incident) is in bed with their hand on their genitals, it's a common courtesy to politely slam the door and run down the hallway and try to forget what you saw.

But oh, no, not Mitchel.

"G'morning, Kras, I was thinking we could-" Mitchel began as he opened Christian's bedroom door. He looked up, only to see the younger man with his sheets twisted around his legs, and his hand which rapidly jerked his penis.

He inhaled sharply and widened his eyes before his face settled into a slow smirk. Christian stopped almost as soon as Mitchel walked in. He cocked his hip and crossed his arms over his chest.

"No, no, continue," He said, fighting back a smile. He watched as Christian's face slightly reddened. He struggled to cover himself and sit up as Mitchel approached his bed.

"What are you-" Christian began, his voice fading as Mitchel leaned on his dresser, his eyes scanning his body from his hair to his hips.

"You're not going to finish?" Mitchel asked. "Because I was thinking we could eat after... you're done." Christian swallowed.

"I don't suppose you want to help me?" He asked. His voice came out in a suggestive and daring manor but Mitchel could tell that he was flustered and a little needy by the way his hands twitched.

"Oh, no," He said slyly. I'm fine right here," He said, his gaze flicking from Christian's face to the sheets. He watched as his best friend wet his lips before slowly pushing away his sheets and lifting his hips as if to tease him. It didn't take long for the younger man to give in to his needs. A few moments later, he was back at it again, this time with Mitchel's gaze which seemed to egg him on.

Mitchel watched and listened to his best friend until he finished. He'd be lying if he were to say that he hadn't daydreamed about that moment for a long time, but it wasn't the time to say that type of thing. Instead, he gave his best friend a quick peck on the lips before heading downstairs as he said, "I'll make you something nice."

Mitchel made his best friend breakfast while he showered. When Christian was done, he joined Mitchel on the couch to watch the news as if nothing had happened at all.