SEPTEMBER 2ND, 2012: 2:30 AM
I don't know how long I just sat there, holding the Link badge, and crying. I think it was at least an hour, but I wasn't sure, and I didn't really care too much. I knew my face looked like crap, with the tears running down my extremely red cheeks and the snot coming from my nose, but I didn't bother to go over and grab a tissue.
It didn't matter, anyway. Nobody really was looking at anyone; all of us simply chose to just stare at the floor. The only time anyone ever moved would be either to go over and comfort someone, or to go be interviewed by police.
Speaking of the police, apparently they were still out and about looking for the killer. If it weren't for the fact I had no firearms or anything, I think I would go out to kill the son of a bitch myself (The other LPers probably would too), but I knew better than to do that. Just what good would it do for me to run around downtown Seattle in the dead of night, unarmed and mentally dead? I would just be asking for hobos and drunks to attack me.
Everybody simply just sat in silence until the interviews were over, when Donna finally broke the silence, speaking in between her tears.
"We can't go to Pax tomorrow
There's no way
It was rather obvious she couldn't complete her sentence, so we all just sat in silence, waiting for someone to speak. That was when Jon rose to his feet, face contorted with an expression that terrified all of us, one that none of us had ever seen on his face. It was some odd mixture of rage, sadness, and pain.
"We ARE going. Tim wouldn't want us to let down so many of our fans who want to see our panel. Plus, we're going to talk about him. We're going to tell everybody exactly how amazing Timothy Bishop was. It's better than sitting around this hotel room and not doing anything for Tim, anyway."
Although there was quite an awkward pause after Jon's speech, Emile eventually choked out a simple "I agree", which then was followed by the rest of us slowly nodding our heads and murmuring our agreements as well. Finally, all of us managed to somewhat recompose ourselves, and then we all began to quietly speak to one another, about what we were going to tell the fans at Pax tomorrow, and how we were going to honor Tim.
Now, albeit the fact the tears didn't stop completely, at least we weren't dead anymore. We began to talk back and forth to each other, although not as high spirited as we would've had Tim not kicked the bucket about 50 (Or more) years too soon. I manage to get up, go to the coffee pot, and get myself some coffee, because I knew I would need it. Who knew how long we would be staying in this common room.
After pouring myself a cup, I held up the pot. "Guys
" I quickly paused, swallowing, realizing just how dry my throat was. "Guys, want some coffee?"
Just about everybody (Minus Tyler, who already had an energy drink, and Emile, for reasons god knows why) came over to get some, and I poured coffee into cup after cup before finally setting the pot down and heading back to my armchair with my own strong, aromatic cup of coffee. Immediately after plopping my butt down in the chair, I took a sip of the coffee. It was hotter than I expected, and I ended up burning my tongue on it. But I was still pretty numb from shock, so I ignored the pain and simply kept drinking, allowing the bitterness to overtake me.
About two hours later, all of us decide to head back to our rooms to catch some z's (Which is pointless, considering we all just downed pure caffeine), and pretty much just spend some alone time. I headed back to my room in a sort of daze, and the minute I entered the room, I simply just walked past the couch and plopped down on my bed, not even bothering to turn on the lamp or anything.
Eventually, my eyelids simply pop shut, a feeling of peace coming over me.
Despite the caffeine, I fall asleep. I guess pure exhaustion can indeed out rule the power of caffeine.
SEPTEMBER 2ND, 2012: 7:30 AM
I wake up abruptly to the sound of someone beating on my door. At first, I don't move, not wanting to leave my warm and fluffy bed. But the banging grows increasingly urgent, so I get up.
But there's only one reason someone would bang on my door so hard
And that would be
What's happening now?
I quickly run to the door, my heart beating. Oh god. Don't tell me someone else died. Please, please God. Don't tell me Jake or Hal or Josh or Lucah or Donna or any of the LPers got themselves killed... Or seriously wounded... Or anything else among those lines...
By the short time I reach the door, my hands are trembling, and a feeling of intense anxiety comes over me. Shakily, I open the door.
And his face is as pale as a ghost.
At once, I start to shake him rapidly.
"JOSH! WHAT HAPPENED?!!"
Josh takes a step back, frowns, and then puts his hands up. He then puts them back down and then stares back down at his feet, before finally murmuring,
"It's Jake. He's disappeared."
Another cliffhanger to suck on, dudes.