Raggedy-Ann (Rayce)

She looked horrible, but in comparison to Ramona- she ws a supermodel.

Her brown hair was knotted and tangled, her silver eyes tired and deprived. Her black bangs seemed to have faded to a dark gray over the course of 24 hours.

"I'm... so... sorry." She said, clutching her skin, which ws just barely hanging on her in a sheet of pasty white.

"It's... it's okay Jayce. Your ok now." Mom ran up and bear hugged her. Ramona doubled over by the sink and puked.

I went over with a hairtie and pulled her hair back.

"I won't do it again. I promise." Jayce swore to mom- then turned to me, "I owe you a huge apology-"

"Save it," I interrupted her curtly, "We're even. That's it."

I walked up to my bedroom.

"Rayce- no! I should have gotten in that car with you!" She called, but I then slammed the door sternly.

 

There was a CD laying on the floor labeled "Welcome to The Black Parade". It was some band that Jayce used to like and she gave it to me for my birthday. I never really listened to it, except maybe once or twice, and deemed it a little to dark for my personal taste. I put it in the stereo and clipped my earbuds into the port. I shoved the earbuds into my ears as deep as they could go, and blasted a song called Mama.

"MAMA WE ALL GO HELL.... MAMA WE ALL GO TO HELL.... I'M WRITING, THIS LETTER, AND WISHING, YOU WELL... MAMA WE ALL GO TO HELL!! AND WHEN WE GO DON'T BLAME US!! LET THE FIRES JUST BATHE US..."

It went on and on about suicide and murder.

"YOU COULD HAVE BEEN- I COULD HAVE BEEN A BETTER SON!! AND WHEN YOU GO DON'T BLAME US!! lET THE FIRES-"

The bands stern attempts at weakness and sorrow were foiled as someone knocked on my door.

I could smell the champagne from here.

"Go. Away. Right now, Jayce!" I screamed.

"It's not, it's not Jayce." Ramona spoke softly from outside the door.