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Rand didn't know how long it'd been since that day, a couple of months? days? years? hell he couldn't tell.
Nothing made sense anymore, days blurred together, minutes merging into hours and it still never felt real. No matter how many times Rand would try and leave his childhood home, he just couldn't- They wouldn't let him
Their figures linger in every corner of the Rand family home, though it can't be called a 'family' home if the family isn't present. He can see their faces everywhere, it doesn't matter how much he tries to drown out their cries, the things the say about him.. how he shouldn't be here, how his existence is a testament to how much he fucked over their lives... He still hears them.
He hears Kian playing is guitar in his living room with a lit joint in his mouth, Rolan by Kian's side telling him off for smoking in the house, his mom in the kitchen- who totally isn't into whatever Kian's playing and Rachel always somewhere in the corners of the house rambling about everything and anything star trek.
But it's wrong, everything is wrong.
The melody that drifted from the living room was wrong, too high pitched in some parts- too familiar. Their faces wrong, hollow eyes that cry black ink, a smile too wide to be right, teeth that are stained red- sharp and pointed like icicles.
Sometimes they look normal, just his best friends and family in the house. But most times they look crooked.
And then there's Rachel, she never seemed to change. Always in the same Star trek t-shirt, always still rambling. She'd sometimes walk past Rand's room and when he go and try and catch up to her, she'd be gone. It didn't matter how much Rand wanted to hug her, tell her he's sorry and that it should've been him and not her- Rachel would round a corner and vanish, just the way she did all those years ago.
Sometimes he'd hear them scream, cry out in pain, yell at him, tell him it's his fault they died, his fault that Rachel went missing, his fault that things ended up the way they did. Rand has always believed that he was a failure but hearing it from the people he loved made it hurt so much more.
There were days where Rand would lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling, wondering if it would be worth it to rot in his bed, surrounded by the mangled hallucinations of his best friends and family. They'd whisper and laugh but it wasn't anything new to Rand, he's been here before and he knows this isn't real yet.. he can't help but feel their words come true.
The longer he'd stay in the more he felt the weight of everything, how he'd failed Rachel, how if it wasn't for him going out to that stupid party.. Rachel would still be here. That maybe she could make their parents proud, since all Rand's done is get them killed.
He'd tried leaving the house one time, he'd heard nor seen anything the entire morning and decided to test his luck. But the moment Rand had barely touched the door handle, he heard something. So faint that he thought it was nothing, but it got louder and louder until his head felt like it was going to explode. The louder they got the more pressure would build and it wouldn't stop until it had gotten what it needed from him. He'd fall to the floor, curled into a ball, hands clamped around his head; a desperate attempt to make it stop but it never does. Even on the floor he could feel their stares, how hard they'd kick him and then how they'd laugh at him, tell him he wasn't worth the effort, how it should've been him instead of Rachel.
Somedays Rand would wonder if he'd be better off dead- if Galloway would be better off without him. He'd think about how peaceful it would be, to end it all, to finally be free, to be rid of everything he's felt over the last god knows how long.
Sometimes Rand wishes it would all just fade to black.