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Ted couldn't stop staring at Charlotte's corpse, blue intestines spilling forth from her stupid, endearing as hell, adorable, tack fucking kitten sweater. Her favourite fucking sweater, ruined, stained with her own blood. Of course it had been that bastard Sam Sweetly who did it. Ted didn't care that he was being controlled by some stupid blue alien, he still killed Charlotte, and he ruined her favourite sweater. Charlotte's red hair curls were matted to her forehead, and Ted wanted to tuck them behind her ear. But he couldn't stand to be any closer to her. He didn't have the right to do that anymore, not after how cruel his last words he'd said to her had been. He knew it would hurt her when he'd said it, but he thought he'd be able to apologise later. But she was dead. And she died thinking Ted was done with her. He wasn't though. Ever since Jenny... Ted had been sure he would never fall in love again, was so sure that Jenny would be the only woman his heart could accept. But the whole his heart was telling him he was wrong. This hurt as bad when Jenny left, it was worse. So, so, much worse. Because when Jenny left, at least Ted had known she was still out there somewhere, even it was in fucking Clivesdale, she was still alive. But Charlotte was gone. Maybe he wasn't in love with Charlotte. But he could've been, if he'd just had more time, if he stopped trying to be that pushy asshole. Maybe if he'd trying 'Teddy' again, the guy who actually got an amazing fucking person like Jenny to fall in love with him. No one loved Ted, the sleazeball. But Teddy had been loved. Teddy was a good person. He might've been a nerdy prude, but at least Teddy was good. Ted was a piece of shit. A bastard.
He barely heard the conversation the others were having, until Bill started taking to his daughter, Alice, over the phone. Alice, who went to Hatchetfield High. The same school as Pete. Those alien scumbags had gotten to the school. Pete...Oh god. What had the last thing he'd said to Pete been? He thought back, he'd called him a geek, made some underhanded comment about his BO. He couldn't remember the last time he'd said something nice to Pete. Couldn't remember the last time he'd told his little brother he loved him. His little brother, he was gone. His brother was fucking dead. Peter was gone. Charlotte was gone. Two good people, who Ted had treated like shit, who had deserved better than him. Peter didn't even get to graduate. Charlotte didn't get to divorce her terrible husband. And Ted didn't even get to apologise for them for being a piece of shit. He felt his heart going numb. He didn't care anymore. What was their to care about anymore. He couldn't help but be a selfish bastard again, he wanted everyone to feel as shitty as he did. And he didn't want anyone else to die. Bill wanted to save his daughter. His daughter who's already fucking dead.
"And you're gonna save her? G.I. Bill? You're gonna...run and gun your way through a city of singing zombie motherfuckers? Wake up, Bill. She's already dead." Ted's words were cruel. He wanted them to be. He wanted them to stick. Make sure they'd stick enough so Bill didn't go out there. Didn't get himself fucking killed. But goddamit. They weren't enough. Paul, that fucking useless noodle, selflessly offered himself up to help Bill save Alice. All of his friends were doomed. And Ted was too selfish to do anything but pour the bourbon he'd been gripping onto for dear life down his throat. Before he did he raised it up like a toast. 'To Pete, Jenny, Charlotte, Paul, Bill. I'm sorry you good people had to put up with a sleazeball like me for so many years. I'm sorry I can't be better.' He couldn't discern if it was the burning he was feeling was from the bourbon or how much he wanted to scream.