Another Ficiton.

Alone Together

A man sits alone in his room. He is counting the tiles on his ceiling as spiders etch webs in the darkened damped corners of the room. “1….2….3…4,” he whispers to himself. He is all alone, putting aside his friend Tom. Tom has always been with him for his whole entire life. He can’t live without him. Tom has always made sure he was in line, until one night, one night when everything went horribly wrong.

It was his Prom night. Everyone had dates, even Tom. Sadly however no one would go with him to prom. It seemed as if Tom had betrayed him. He was barely talking to him at all. In fact the only thing that kept him from going crazy were his human emotions. He had felt the icy embrace of sorrow, grasping his lungs. He could not yell, or cry. He could just sit there, and wait for prom to end.

However, when prom night did end, the feelings didn’t end for our man here, and Tom did not know why. He felt confused, lost and scared for he was constantly being threatened ever since prom night. Tom promised to help him get revenge, revenge on the whole school for abandoning him. Thankfully for Tom, the rekindling of the school rekindled their friendship.

It was all going up in flames, the school, every betrayal, and the icy sorrow that gripped his heart. His sadness was all gone, and a lot like the school, his soul was burning with an intensity to live in which he has not felt for years. They would all pay- this was his purpose.

Someone was running. He didn’t like running nor did Tom, so they chased this girl. He remembered who this girl was. It was the girl who stole Tom from him on prom night. Death was a reasonable punishment. He dove at her and started to whale on her face. There was a crack here, and a crack there. After a minute or so she started to vomit blood all over his pants. She could barely manage to weeze out the words, “Tom….why? Why would you do this to me?” And suddenly it all made sense. Tom wasn’t his friend. Tom wasn’t even a figment of his imagination. He was a figment of Tom’s. Sadly for her, Tom was no more.

Tom didn’t like the blood on his pants, nor did his counter-part. “YOU BITCH! THESE ARE NEW JEANS!” He continued to turn her face into a pile of mush. Laughter turned into crying as sadness turned into anxiety. All sorts of emotions flowed through Tom, but there is one he will never forget. The cold feeling that swept through his being as the handcuffs clicked on his wrists, or the way his heart dropped when the judge hit the his desk with the mallet.

Years later, Tom did come back. They rejoiced their friendship in the comfort of a nice padded room, where dinner came three times a day, and where he had a toilet all to himself.