James was tired. He had struggled every day for the past years with his disease. He could never seem to escape, never hide away. It seemed like everyone was watching him, although no one knew. His mother had died ten years earlier, she'd shot herself in the head. Who would have thought? Who knew that was going to happen? That's how James felt.

He was hiding the thing he hated most, the thing he longed to get rid of. The hardest part was just living, day after day, hating himself, hating being around people who thought he was normal. He wasn't normal, even though he was just a 18 year old boy, about to graduate and leave his home.

Yet here he was, on a 2 AM drug trip, trying to either score some drugs or cash. Just one would be enough. With money, he could get some cocaine, or some heroin. Anything to score a ten minute high. Maybe he'd feel good about himself again.

A shuffling sounded off a few feet away. The alleyway he was standing in was dark, no street lights or anything to show him where to go.

"Hello?" He whispered, squinting his eyes. "Who's there?"

No voice answered. It was probably just a stray cat. He was probably just paranoid. It didn't matter anyway. Maybe it was someone. Maybe they had drugs, or wanted some. Or maybe it was the police. Probably just a cat.

"Hey?" He called out, walking toward where he had heard the scuff of something against concrete, "anyone there? You want something? I've got some. Or you have some? I've got money too."
A torch turned on, illuminating James' face in the dark. He blinked trying to cover up his face. "Wh-who are you?"

"Doesn't matter." A heavy cockney accent came from the dark, and the click of something metal. "You say you've got money? Drugs?"

"Y-yeah. You wanna buy somethin'?" James was quite nervous, his voice quivering, his sweaty hands by his sides. "I've got everything."
"Buying isn't really my style." The torch fell to the grounding, hitting the stone with a loud crack. A gun was illuminated in the dark, pointed at James' face. "See ya later, mate."
Another crack sounded, but it wasn't the sound of a torch hitting the ground. A blinding light diseappeared as soon as it had came, and a corpse fell to the concrete. James could feel it. It was him. But he just felt... Alive again. He felt free. He felt like he wasn't trapped in an endless void of addiction and mess. Drugs, highs, feeling like you could be happy, even just for a moment. It fell to the floor.

"James." A quiet, female voice came from behind him. "It's me, James."

The young man quickly turned around, ignoring the looting of his dead body that lay bleeding in the alleyway. His mother stood in the alley, but he could see again. Her soft blue eyes, her rounded cheeks, her long brown hair.

"M-mum?" He cried, feeling a tear fall down his face. "God. Is... Is it really you?"

"Yes, love. It's me. It's your mum. I love you, I'm here." Anne spoke. Her voice cracked as she began to cry.

"Mum, I've missed you so much! So much. So has dad, and all of us. We've missed you. Why? Why did you have to go?"

"It was my time, James. It's your's, too."

James turned back, looking at the quiet corpse that lay on the ground. "Won't they miss me?"

"Yes."

"And so I'm leaving them? They're gonna be alone? Just Dad, and everyone else. I can't leave them alone! I had so many plans. Dad and I were going to see that movie. I was going to walk Connie down the aisle when she got married, Dad said I could. No! I can't just die." James stepped away from the spirit, choking back sobs. "No! No! I can't go. Lillian was supposed to go to a dance tomorrow. I was going to take her. Mercedes. She'll be so lost. Please! Don't let me go."

"You have to. It's just time, my son. You'll see them all one day again. I promise."

A wave of panic and acceptance pushed him forwards. It was his time. He didn't have a choice, no matter what he wanted. No matter what was best for his family, his friends. It was time.