See You on the Other Side (Larry Johnson Angst)

See You on the Other Side

See you on the other side. 

Always.

Larry finished writing the note. He folded it up, writing Sal's name on the front. There were no tears. He hadn't been able to cry in what felt like forever. He was... numb. There was no sadness left in his body, and he was an empty shell. Larry tilted his head back, downing the last of the alcohol in one gulp. He threw the glass bottle half-heartedly at the wall of his treehouse, but it didn't break. He rubbed his face. He was so tired, and it only seemed to be getting worse.

At first, the drugs had helped. Alcohol, then cigarettes. They had numbed the pain of his dad's abandonment, and his life from that moment. But that was the problem. The shit had taken his emotions, and they hadn't given them back. Next was weed, and much worse things too. They had actually made him happy, for a while, but it hadn't lasted. Nothing ever did. It felt like he was a shell, a husk of Larry Johnson with nothing inside. He just wanted the nothingness to end. 

But that's why I'm here, isn't it?

Larry reached into his pocket and pulled out a small ziplock bag, with a group of pills inside. They rustled and scraped against each other as he emptied them into his hand. The pills, accumulated over months and months of planning, the end of his suffering. All he had to do was swallow them, and in minutes, or hours, he would be gone. The quiet roar of the new Sanity's Fall album crackled through his old record player. It had been expensive, but Larry had bought the vinyl knowing it would be his last. He gazed at the pills in his cupped hand. contemplating death. He still felt empty. it was almost funny.

Larry glanced around at his treehouse. His fortress of solitude. The place that him and his dad had built when he was just a kid. His eyes landed on a section of his wall, filled with Polaroid pictures. even though they were on the opposite side of the room, Larry knew what was on them. He stood up anyways and walked over. Sal, Ash, Todd, Neil, Maple and Chug stared out at him. All the happy times they had had, the adventures they had shared. Hell, there was even a photo of Travis, taken when he wasn't looking.

Jesus, now the waterworks come.

He took one photo off the wall, larger than the rest. Him and sal, tired but excited, in the mosh pit of the Sanity's Fall American Tour. Lisa had driven them hours to get all the way from Nockfell to a place the band was performing. But it was worth it. Larry laughed. it had been the best night of his life. He looked down at his hand, at the pills. Was he really ready, to give all of this up? His friends, the moments of happiness he found when he was with them? He stood there for a long time. Thinking. 

I'm abandoning them.

In a burst of action, Larry threw the pills out the window frame, watching them arc and disappear into the darkness. No, he would not do this. He realised now, it was clear. A weight, one he had gotten used to, one he had been carrying since his father disappeared, lifted from his shoulders. He smiled. He was free.

Two gloved hands clamped on Larry's neck. He jerked away at the attack and spun around. A group of hooded figures surrounded him, blocking off the treehouse's door. Four, maybe more. But it was so dark, hard to tell. Larry opened his mouth to yell but the figures strode forward. Two grabbed his shoulders with such force he was slammed against the wall, and one clamped Larry's mouth shut. The final man seemed to be the leader, and as he removed his hood, Larry recognised him. 

"Don't scream, or I'll gut your mother like a fish," Kenneth Phelps said, voice low. Larry growled and wrestled against the men holding him, "threaten my mother one more fucking time".

Kenneth sneered, "You're not in a position to threaten me, Johnson". He advanced, and towered over Larry.

"What do you want, pastor?"

"What do you know about the cult of the devours of God?"

Larry barked a laugh, "What is this, a shitty movie? I don't know about any cults, Christ". Kenneth's hand came swift, the slap so hard Larry splat blood on the ground. "Do not use the Lord's name in vain," Kenneth seethed, "and don't lie to me. I'm not an idiot". He leaned back and walked toward the opposite window, back to Larry. "Your mother is sleeping right now. if you don't co-operate, it would be so easy to..." the pastor turned, and he held a small switchblade in his hand, glinting in the moonlight. 

"You piece of shit, stay away from my mom!"

Wordlessly, Kenneth motioned to the cloaked figures. They began dragging Larry towards the entrance of the treehouse. "Wait, no, what the fuck are you doing?" They threw him over the edge and he fell awkwardly. He felt something in his leg splinter. The three figures resumed dragging the bruised and battered Larry away from the treehouse, and Addison Apartments, out to the fields. they dumped him in a shallow hole, in the cold dirt of a small clearing in the grass. Kenneth sighed, and walked towards him. Larry tried to scramble back, but the figures still had a hold of his arms. One reached into his pocket, grabbed his phone, and began typing. "Hey, fuck off. stop!" Larry cried, but he didn't sound brave. He sounded scared.

"you really made this easy, Johnson," Kenneth crouched over Larry. Metal glinted in the air. Larry felt a cold, sharp pain in his throat. He tried to speak, but his mouth was filling with blood. 

He... he stabbed me. He stabbed my fucking throat. 

"The suicide note you wrote?" Kenneth gestured to the treehouse, "It makes my job so much easier. You don't know how difficult it is to fake handwriting". 

Larry realised.

Christ, I'm in a grave.

Kenneth turned to look at him once more, "This is what happens when you delve to deep into things you shouldn't". 

Larry reached a weak hand after him as he left, blood pooling. On of the cloaked figures began piling dirt on top of him. Scrabbling, his hand found something in the ground. He drew it towards him. A small, gleaming pill. He laughed, but all that came out was froth. It mixed with his blood and the shower of dirt growing heavier on top of him. Larry coughed and rested his head on the earth.

I'm sorry, Sal.