Interlude

Saturday morning, at around the hours of six, the sun climbs up the sky spilling its glory over the sentient New Coralton. It is an adequate town tucked away around the edges of the cape embracing the tepid body of water loved for reflecting the upper tints of blue skies speckled with saintly white.

Johnny wakes up feeling a lot replenished and most importantly free from the previous day's madness. He stretches just well and then proceeds to check his cellphone, opening a notification from an unsaved number.

'Should we move on or pick up where we left off?' It read.

He tossed the phone onto the bed following to throw himself on top of his sheets. A heavy grunt is made indistinct by contact of his face and pillow. Can we call it pillow talk?

"Another day. Another pain." Was the preface he began each day with. To him waiting for evening to hit the clock was much more desired than having to interact with people. It felt like each day didn't really hold any interesting factor with it, much to speak on a year. That pretty much summed up to over a hundred unfortunate days, many dreadful hours and seconds of history repeating itself.

Many did take him for being exasperatingly ambitionless missing the point that he was a bit more conscious than most of his peers.

The day shortly began with him somehow appreciating of the day as he wore a smile upon his face. He held on his hips and swore on rebirth.

He did yowl over the new day, agreed, but to avoid any flaws throughout he first must change his expectations.

A warm shower soothed him almost perfectly and a bowl of cereal soaked in fresh milk brought him to life.

He stood in that assertive pose once again, feeling the breeze escape between his teeth.

The essentials were done so now he must look forward and outside his bedroom. Household chores!

Getting the thought of mopping the floor was enough to drop him dead any second from now however he remained inexorable and determined. A deep breath, another then immediately despicable exhales pump out ridiculously, catching his brother's attention.

"Ey yoh chill! Man's gonna break some ribs."

"Why are you speaking like that?"

"Just sayin'. If bro finna fill out for acting, I say you audition for the big bad wolf." He bounced with each count of a step as though he was an underdog gangster. "Huffle puff."

"Huffle puff? Jake get the house swept after you have pulled up your pants. I thought I taught you how to wear those when you were two years of age."

"Ey yoh chill! You're getting vicious" Obnoxiously dragging the words. "Bro woke up on the wrong side of the bed now he wanna bite!"

Johnny remained silent, startled even. The concept of change was being pulled off by his three years younger brother unmeasured times better than he could ever try. The positivity he attempts to treasure was losing him and those procrastination deeds screamed a second chance. Thoughts of everyone suddenly being reincarnated for a better or worse personality did not settle well in his mind. It fumbled with his brain cells and made his tummy ache.

"Yeah right. Another day. Another pain."

A couple of hours have ticked off the clock and the sun sits right overhead. Johnny jogs his way back to the beach that held a fraction of negativity. He kept up with his breathing and straightened his head as not let other people meet his boring gaze. His eyes locked onto stones, ashes and remains of the strongest matches patched along the beach up ahead. Two familiar heads stood by exchanging no words to cope with the awkwardness.

Sometimes he would welcome himself with a special intro, but this time around he dapped and slightly raised his head then back down to salute Simon, a polite favor of a smile given to Skylar. As they patiently anticipated, the two watched as Johnny lowered himself to sit on his heels and leaning his chin on a clenched fist, watching the direction the playboy had approached them from on one spiteful afternoon. They told him that Victor had in fact not appeared since they arrived there so now they hung around a little longer.

'I really wanna go.' Johnny thought as he tried to ignore the awkward silence between them. 'Problem is she'll think I'm a coward. That would make sense considering all the matches I've missed. And no thanks, I had my rough share of rumour. Cowardness cannot be added to the list.'

Casual beach goers, family folks and dogwalkers enjoyed their time at the beach whether playing or lying on the sand or tackling a wind driven wave. It was a pleasant sight to observe or perhaps catch a sound in a jar to bring home for keepsake.

The tides rolled by and a sudden sharp wind blew across. Dark, angry clouds threatened to pour over the town, looming the skies terrifyingly driving a flock of birds away. There was a rapid change of faces displaying bewilderment and terror when they turned to catch sight of what they could never possibly expect. Let alone explain anything.

A deep hollow sound resonated across the beach, sending chills down their spines including a few who were in a few miles radius. Intuition to run nor stand by was among the very sane but unfortunately New Coralton dwellers lacked that voice in their heads. An eerie silence fell in place and hearts skipped a beat or two.

In the distance, Johnny witnessed the darkest and thickest clouds imaginable cover up the surface of the now still and motionless lake.

The dark essence plagued across the area before countless could race the adrenaline - day turned into deepest night without the tiniest light.

In total blindness and terror, shrieks deafened the town, tires screeching thereafter collisions initiating explosions shook the ground. He could paint a picture of cars flipped over and blood scattered everywhere. It was an absolute nightmare that it made him dizzy.

Fighting for composure, he dropped to the ground with eyes heavily drowsy.

"Simon!" He called. "Skylar!" No answer. He could've sworn he heard a tiny voice respond, just he didn't follow.

When sparks from luminous flames started to show up he struggled to follow where they emerged from the faintly glow. Not so different from a drunk man, Johnny swayed and stumbled over a couple of people flailing all over the sand. He couldn't hear much except for his piercing heartbeat and raging thoughts.

"Run... Wake, up." He repeated the words like it was all he could say until he stumbled upon something which made his feet wet. At this moment he could tell that he was where water met earth and only ankles deep.

Every now and then the intensified screams faded. Sirens wailed and a helicopter flew around in circles - there were also rattles of gunshots within the town. Subsequently, sounds of many kinds played a damn planetary circus, red glows of light drawing the horror - the blue disintegrating non-luminous objests and figures to nothingess.

The world he knew seemed to be turning upside-down before his very presence.

It was a perfect moment to call cussed words and beg the ground to open up and swallow you whole, spit out whatever is left when hell upon the surface calms. Johnny was yet again suffering from alexithymia. Crying might at least relieve him from this agonizing state, but when he caught a glimpse of somebody else dropping with a splash on the water, he sort of came to his senses now that he saw a familiar but exhausted face.

"S-Simon! You are..."

Simon is drenched in blood!

His right eye spectacle lense had red coating the cracks. He could hardly utter a word as he painfully struggled to reach for his friend. The end of the thread is spanning short and both knew right away when the blue light shot on his back, instantly deteriorating him on the spot.

Damn it all! It was one hell of a visceral sight to undergo, burning into his lifetime trauma. It set him back, made him fall back and stare at images flashing before his eyes. Each a day he spent in his loathsome world. This was it...the end of all suffering. In just moments, he will be in a better place at most. Convict free.

"No..."

Johnny denied. Not having too many reasons to refuse death at this point. For all he knew, he did not have a damned clue why, why he said no. The deathly view of blue flash was blown out by the helicopter crashing right where Simon last fell. Eyes crying with goodbye.

The lake, only alive when an object interferes with its surface, ascends vigorously and tucks the teenager beneath it.

"NO!" His screams boomed yet again this time at the cost of lung capacity. Kicking his legs in a desperate attempt to swim up didn't help much.

'Screw it!' He internally swore upon everything. Was it mention that failure was his second name? The urge was to get back to his good buddy and nothing would stop him.

'Screw Skylar.

Screw depression.

Screw rejection.

Screw friendzone.'

'Kuso!' He pinned his mind on the thoughts. Got it beating up against its own skull.

'They were right. I am ambitionless. My only drive was skirts, shagging and fooling around. I've averted that inner voice. My inner child screamed redemption and what did I do to correct my mistakes?' Nothing. He stopped kicking as though his brain left the body behind. With this, the cursing carried on.

'Screw misery.

Screw arrogance.

Screw the author.

Screw death.'

The helicopter goes out with a bang, drowning him deeper beneath the peach black water.