A story about Mike, chapter 3
Mike was ready for when Billie Joe arrived. He glanced out of the window to check for any photographers. He sighed. He could see one in the bushes across the street. As soon as Billie's car pulled up, he ran outside, locked the door and sped to Billie's car and leapt in. He looked back and saw the photographer running after them, snapping the car. Tré and Billie Joe were sitting in the front. Mike was sitting behind Tré and he pulled his seatbelt on.
"Greetings, chased one!" Tré chimed.
"Not funny Tré." Mike said.
"Sorry. Billie filled me in on the whole Annie thing. That's pretty shit."
"I know." Mike said. They were quiet for a while.
"Hey, you know what I saw yesterday?" Tré said.
"What?" Billie Joe said.
"Two rabbits fucking each other! But the rabbit on top was the wrong way round, and it was humping the other rabbits face!"
The car exploded with laughter.
"Ever made that mistake before Tré?" Billie joked.
"Well-"
Suddenly, a huge force hit the drivers side of the car, and they were thrown across the road. Mike, Tré and Billie were all jerked to the side. Tré smashed his head against the window. The car spun round and skidded to a halt.
Mike opened his eyes blearily. He lifted his head slightly. Billie Joe was slumped over the wheel, his face covered in blood. Tré was leaning on the smashed window, and wasn't moving. Mike could see blood on the glass. He felt something running down his face, and felt with his fingers. He took his hand away and found that he was bleeding. He was in pain. He closed his eyes, and heard sirens screeching nearby.
"Mike?"
Mike stirred. He felt someone gripping his hand. He opened his eyes blearily. Tré was sitting beside him, his head bandaged. He had a cast on his arm.
"What happened?" Mike asked.
"Some fucker crashed into us. He's here too, but he's not injured."
"Why do I feel weird?"
"It must be the painkillers. You were lucky. You have a cut above your eye and your left sides all cut because of the glass. You got concussion too."
"Oh." He felt sick as he realised something. "Where's Billie Joe?"
Tré swallowed hard. He looked away.
"He, he got a pretty bad bump on the head when the car hit us." Tré stopped.
"No, he's not-"
"No. No, he's not dead. He's in a coma Mike."
After persuading Tré that he was well enough to see Billie, they walked down the corridor to a little room. Tré said "Are you ready for this?" Mike nodded. They went inside. Billie was just lying there like he was sleeping. His head was bandaged. The only difference was that there were tubes everywhere, and Adrienne was by his side. She looked up when they closed the door.
"I'll leave for a while." She said. Her eyes were bloodshot. Tré and Mike sat next to Billie and talked for what like seemed hours about nothing at all. It was like he was still awake, except that every time there was a slight pause there was no answer from Billie. No funny retort, no argument and no laughter. A while later, Joey and Jakob arrived. Mike couldn't bear to watch them cry, so he and Tré left the family together. Mike and Tré stood outside as they waited for Mike's taxi.
"Are you sure you'll be OK?" Tré asked.
"Yes." Mike said. His taxi had arrived.
"You should get some rest. I'll call you if anything happens." Tré said. "Oh, there's something I forgot to tell you."
"What is it?"
"I don't want you to find out in the news or something, that would-"
"Tré! What is it?" Mike repeated.
"The man that crashed into us. He was one of the ones that sent you a death threat. He wanted to kill you."
Mike could hardly talk. "W-why?"
"I don't know. That fuckers going to go to prison though. I promise you."
Mike stared red eyed at the knife in his hand. It was his fault. If he hadn't went out in the car then Billie would be fine. None of this would have happened. It's a nice knife, he thought as he flicked the blades. Billie Joe had given it to him for his 18th birthday. It was a red swiss army knife with tons of little gadgets, like a nail file (Mike never used it), and a bottle opener. He'd used that a lot. He flicked out the blade and stared at it for a while. No, he thought, its too small. Gotta have something bigger. He folded the blade and stuffed the knife in his pocket. He glanced round the kitchen and pulled out a carving knife. He took another swig of vodka. The bottle was almost empty. Now this is a knife he thought as he turned it over and over in his hands. This one would do fine. Now where to do it? The bedroom, he thought. I want to die in my bed. He grabbed the vodka bottle and stumbled up the stairs. He laid the knife carefully on his bedside table, sat down on his bed, and tried to down the rest of the bottle in one.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
The voice scared him and made him cough up the vodka. He spluttered and turned around. He stared in confusion at who was staring at him.
"Who the fuck are you?" A large pink rabbit was staring at him.
"Who the fuck am I?" The rabbit sighed. "Mikie Mikie Mikie, how much of that vodka have you drank?" Mike stared at the bottle in his hand and sloshed the contents about. "I drank a little." He slurred. "Now fuck off and leave me to die."
"Do you have any idea who I am?"
"A pink rabbit?" He sniggered.
"First things first. Lets get that vodka out of you." He pulled out a large tap from a little pocket.
"Your not coming near me with that fucking thing." Mike said.
"It wont hurt." The pink rabbit walked straight over and started screwing the tap onto Mike's finger. Mike picked up the knife and held it to the rabbit's throat.
"Stop it!"
The rabbit kept screwing. "You cant kill me. I'm not real." Liquid started to pour out of the tap and into the vodka bottle. Mike looked on confused. Everything started to seem clearer. The room stopped spinning, and the fogginess in his brain was disappearing.
"There. That's better." The vodka bottle was full again. "You can drink it, but I think it seems pretty gross."
"Um..yes." Mike agreed. "So, who are you?"
"Jesus! You still don't know who I am! Some of that vodka must still be in your system." The rabbit pulled off its head. Mike gasped.
"Greetings, chased one!" Tré chimed.
"Not funny Tré." Mike said.
"Sorry. Billie filled me in on the whole Annie thing. That's pretty shit."
"I know." Mike said. They were quiet for a while.
"Hey, you know what I saw yesterday?" Tré said.
"What?" Billie Joe said.
"Two rabbits fucking each other! But the rabbit on top was the wrong way round, and it was humping the other rabbits face!"
The car exploded with laughter.
"Ever made that mistake before Tré?" Billie joked.
"Well-"
Suddenly, a huge force hit the drivers side of the car, and they were thrown across the road. Mike, Tré and Billie were all jerked to the side. Tré smashed his head against the window. The car spun round and skidded to a halt.
Mike opened his eyes blearily. He lifted his head slightly. Billie Joe was slumped over the wheel, his face covered in blood. Tré was leaning on the smashed window, and wasn't moving. Mike could see blood on the glass. He felt something running down his face, and felt with his fingers. He took his hand away and found that he was bleeding. He was in pain. He closed his eyes, and heard sirens screeching nearby.
"Mike?"
Mike stirred. He felt someone gripping his hand. He opened his eyes blearily. Tré was sitting beside him, his head bandaged. He had a cast on his arm.
"What happened?" Mike asked.
"Some fucker crashed into us. He's here too, but he's not injured."
"Why do I feel weird?"
"It must be the painkillers. You were lucky. You have a cut above your eye and your left sides all cut because of the glass. You got concussion too."
"Oh." He felt sick as he realised something. "Where's Billie Joe?"
Tré swallowed hard. He looked away.
"He, he got a pretty bad bump on the head when the car hit us." Tré stopped.
"No, he's not-"
"No. No, he's not dead. He's in a coma Mike."
After persuading Tré that he was well enough to see Billie, they walked down the corridor to a little room. Tré said "Are you ready for this?" Mike nodded. They went inside. Billie was just lying there like he was sleeping. His head was bandaged. The only difference was that there were tubes everywhere, and Adrienne was by his side. She looked up when they closed the door.
"I'll leave for a while." She said. Her eyes were bloodshot. Tré and Mike sat next to Billie and talked for what like seemed hours about nothing at all. It was like he was still awake, except that every time there was a slight pause there was no answer from Billie. No funny retort, no argument and no laughter. A while later, Joey and Jakob arrived. Mike couldn't bear to watch them cry, so he and Tré left the family together. Mike and Tré stood outside as they waited for Mike's taxi.
"Are you sure you'll be OK?" Tré asked.
"Yes." Mike said. His taxi had arrived.
"You should get some rest. I'll call you if anything happens." Tré said. "Oh, there's something I forgot to tell you."
"What is it?"
"I don't want you to find out in the news or something, that would-"
"Tré! What is it?" Mike repeated.
"The man that crashed into us. He was one of the ones that sent you a death threat. He wanted to kill you."
Mike could hardly talk. "W-why?"
"I don't know. That fuckers going to go to prison though. I promise you."
Mike stared red eyed at the knife in his hand. It was his fault. If he hadn't went out in the car then Billie would be fine. None of this would have happened. It's a nice knife, he thought as he flicked the blades. Billie Joe had given it to him for his 18th birthday. It was a red swiss army knife with tons of little gadgets, like a nail file (Mike never used it), and a bottle opener. He'd used that a lot. He flicked out the blade and stared at it for a while. No, he thought, its too small. Gotta have something bigger. He folded the blade and stuffed the knife in his pocket. He glanced round the kitchen and pulled out a carving knife. He took another swig of vodka. The bottle was almost empty. Now this is a knife he thought as he turned it over and over in his hands. This one would do fine. Now where to do it? The bedroom, he thought. I want to die in my bed. He grabbed the vodka bottle and stumbled up the stairs. He laid the knife carefully on his bedside table, sat down on his bed, and tried to down the rest of the bottle in one.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
The voice scared him and made him cough up the vodka. He spluttered and turned around. He stared in confusion at who was staring at him.
"Who the fuck are you?" A large pink rabbit was staring at him.
"Who the fuck am I?" The rabbit sighed. "Mikie Mikie Mikie, how much of that vodka have you drank?" Mike stared at the bottle in his hand and sloshed the contents about. "I drank a little." He slurred. "Now fuck off and leave me to die."
"Do you have any idea who I am?"
"A pink rabbit?" He sniggered.
"First things first. Lets get that vodka out of you." He pulled out a large tap from a little pocket.
"Your not coming near me with that fucking thing." Mike said.
"It wont hurt." The pink rabbit walked straight over and started screwing the tap onto Mike's finger. Mike picked up the knife and held it to the rabbit's throat.
"Stop it!"
The rabbit kept screwing. "You cant kill me. I'm not real." Liquid started to pour out of the tap and into the vodka bottle. Mike looked on confused. Everything started to seem clearer. The room stopped spinning, and the fogginess in his brain was disappearing.
"There. That's better." The vodka bottle was full again. "You can drink it, but I think it seems pretty gross."
"Um..yes." Mike agreed. "So, who are you?"
"Jesus! You still don't know who I am! Some of that vodka must still be in your system." The rabbit pulled off its head. Mike gasped.
