Authors note: This chapter contains some triggering content (the whole story does but yk), such as a sewer slide mention.
The dead body of the blond on the floor. How they all practically sobbed as their friend was hauled away. Chris noticed something...off. Taylor's eyes were wide open, filled with panic, fear, and an animalistic rage. Somehow, the others were oblivious. No matter how much Chris tried to get their attention, they ignored him.
Before he could react, Taylor hissed and leapt at him, eyes bright with a white flame.
Chris screamed and woke up. "What the hell was that?? Fuck, that's the third time this month that I've dreamt of him! Is he trying to...tell me something?" He mumbled, getting out of bed. He yawned, squinting down at the clock. 4:23 A.M. He groaned and trudged downstairs.
He forgot one crucial thing as he walked down the stairs --- the demon was still awake. It stared at him with its glossy black eyes, snarling softly as a warning. But the mortal didn't seem to care one bit. "Fuck off, stupid piece of shit." He growled, extending his middle finger to it. Clearly, since the dream occurred, Chris didn't even care if he lived or died.
It blinked slowly, confused. But it concluded that despite the insults, Shifty was of no harm. It yawned obnoxiously, hopping up on the couch and collapsing. It closed its eyes, beginning to snore. Chris grabbed a few beers from the fridge and sat in the recliner adjacent to it.
He popped open the bottle and took a big swig (that was so big he almost choked). He was surprised when the nuisance of a possessor wasn't as hostile as usual to him. Did it understand that he'd just woken up from a bad dream? Maybe it knew what it was like to end your life. He felt bad for Dave, who had to house this thing in his body.
He quickly realized that he was going into quite the depressive spiral, so he gulped down some more sips of beer. He did enjoy the relief that it brought, though, and he basically chugged the rest. He did have a second bottle, though, so why the hell not? "Why shouldn't I get drunk? Just for fun?" he thought aloud.
The demon opened its eye for a brief moment, but re-closed it. It was obviously too tired to put up a fight. The second bottle laid on the coffee table. He popped the cap off, going through it in what seemed like seconds. He retrieved some more beer from the fridge, just standing there in the kitchen.
As he drank, he kept remembering the dreams he'd been having of Taylor. "Oh, goddamn it!" he wailed in anguish. Drink faster! Thoughts still there. Faster! No luck. More, we need more! More, more, more, more ---
Someone was poking him with a fork. "Hey, Chris, you okay? Chris, ya good, man? Chris, wake up!" A familiar voice called, "WAKE UP!" The guitarist, startled, awoke. He blinked before looking at the shoes in front of him. Shoes weren't sentient, so his gaze traveled upward.
Lo, it was Dave. "Thank fuck, you're alive," He sighed in relief. "Chris? The hell happened last night? You're in a puddle of barf, man. Not like you to just go on a drinking spree alone." He said worriedly, crossing his arms. He helped the blue-eyed male get back on his feet. "Or not share!" Rami interjected, "My guy, you drank nearly all the beer!"
Nate counted the bottles, which he so neatly arranged on the counter. "Three, four...FIVE FUCKING BOTTLES OF BEER??" he yelled. "Yeah, that's a concerning amount, Shifty." Pat said softly, which broke Chris's heart. "I had...a fucking dream about him again." He sighed.
The group let out a collective 'oh...' and went silent. They knew about the dreams, the constant reminder that they would never be fully healed. Chris apologized for the mess he caused, promising to clean it up. Pat decided that no, Shiflett should not stress himself out further, and should instead rest.
"Why don't you go rest?" he suggested, "You look like you need it pretty bad. Don't stress. I'll get it." Too tired to argue against it, the younger male simply nodded and went upstairs. "Gosh, I hope he'll be okay. That dream must've really bothered him..." Pat said softly.
"You're telling me," Nate complained, "I'm the one who has to clean these up!" Meanwhile, Chris was looking around the hall. He stared at what the group called 'The Forbidden Door,' which was the door to Taylor's room. Dave forbade anyone from entering, saying that it was too much of a painful reminder of him.
But something called to him. It asked him to enter the room. 'C'mon Shifty, ya know you wanna....you wanna so bad!' He shook his head. "Dave said I can't, so I won't!" he protested, stomping his foot. 'Aw, c'mon, why listen to the boss man? Get in here. Come rest.' "No, I won't!" 'Why? Because Dave says so? That never stops you. Go on, open the door. Get the sleep and relaxation you deserve!'
Finally, Chris was swayed. "Fuck it, if he's mad, he's mad!" he scoffed, putting his hand on the doorknob. He turned it and entered, closing the door behind him. His heart broke as he imagined the drummer, who'd undoubtedly be giggling and jumping on the bed.
A tear came to his eye, but he wiped it away and climbed into the bed. He lie down, groaning in exhaustion. "This feels kinda...co..zy." He yawned and fell asleep in no time. But then the dream hit. Like a train.
YOU ARE READING
Catharsis
Fanfiction"Hey dude, can I possess your body a quick minute?" There was a brief silence as Chris thought of his answer. The demon was still there, but he did miss his best friend so. "Why would you want my body?" "Just to say hi to the guys, that's all." "Yo...
