Jimmy Hopkins

What time was it?

It didn’t matter. It felt like it had been dark outside for forever. The time never seemed to pass when Jimmy was stuck lying in bed, and when he couldn’t get his stupid thoughts to quiet down so he could just get a good nights rest. This always happened, at least a couple times every month.

Ever since you’ve been gone, it just hasn’t been the same without you. As cheesy as it sounded, Jimmy actually missed you. You were probably one of the only people he considered trustworthy in this school besides Petey.

So why couldn’t his mind rest, huh? Why’d you have to keep plaguing his thoughts like you blamed him too?

He’d been there that day—he’d been in the distance. He was so focused on his own endeavors, including trying to stop Gary from fully turning the school into his own personal playground. But the fact he’d even been there…

If he could’ve just looked over at the right time, if he could’ve seen you struggling, he would’ve at least done something. You were one of the only good people at this horrible school—so why’d you have to go? It felt like a joke to his own system. Like he couldn’t have anything go right as long as he was alone with a bunch of idiots who didn’t care about anything but themselves.

Your death only served to prove that point. It was a tragedy—for about a day. Most students heard about it, maybe gave a small mourning service, before shrugging and moving onto the next big piece of gossip. The whole thing was a nightmare.

And it felt like Jimmy just couldn’t wake up from it. The guilt was there, but he couldn’t show anybody. He was supposed to keep it together, right? That’s what you always told him. Violence couldn’t solve everything.

And it especially couldn’t solve this.

“Aw, man, I’m exhausted…” He murmured quietly under his breath, rubbing at his eyes for a moment as he laid there on the bed, resting on top of the covers as he stared at the ceiling. Every time he tried to get remotely comfortable, he never felt that signature heaviness of his eyelids, or the muddling of his thoughts.

Everything was just ”loud, loud, loud. Listen to me, listen to me” on repeat, and he physically couldn’t shut it up. It would’ve been annoying if he didn’t know who he was thinking about.

Jimmy groaned, deciding to sit up as he realized this would be a night he wouldn’t be getting any sleep from. After a few moments, though, he focused his attention on the dark corner by the doorway to his left, somewhere the moonlight usually didn’t reach at night.

Usually, he thought nothing of the space, but something felt off about it. Like someone was there, watching him. And honestly, it felt familiar in a cruel way.

Like you were there, but he’d never get to see you again, talk to you again. It was like a sick joke that constantly replayed in his head.

Honestly? He’d rather have you haunting him than just watching him. It would at least provide some comfort that you actually want to interact with him. Having no closure with you before you died though, he had no idea what you were thinking while he was there in the distance.

Maybe thinking you hated him or something for not helping you. Usually he wouldn’t have cared if one person hated him or not—either way, he could’ve just showed them what to think about his fists—but there had been something about you.

“This is just… dumb. You know, I can tell you there’s nobody there and that I just look plain crazy. Nice to know that.” Jimmy gestured to the corner, more so speaking to himself with that usual sarcasm in his tone.

Maybe a part of him hoped you were there though. That you could hear him.