You'll Invest Yourself in Me
You're Gonna Be the One that Saves Me
Everybody has been so careful around me. Since I’ve been back, people have had guarded tongues and crossed fingers, hoping I don’t attempt anything. I feel like the craziest one in this place. I know I’m not, but these people are making me feel breakable, fragile.
“Why’d ya do it?” Except Lindsey. She has no restraints on her. She blurts out everything on her mind. I can’t remember a time where Lindsey has ever kept her mouth shut on a delicate subject.
“Lindsey!” Finn squeals fiercely. “You can’t just ask people why they attempted suicide.” She turns her wide, green eyes on me. “But, seriously. Why’d ya do it?”
“Guys, you are fucking immature.” Katy informs monotonously. Her eyes have gained flecks of her normal hazel, but they still remain predominantly gray. (should I spell it grey or gray? I know I’ve been switching off throughout this story.) The blonde (Fuck, blond or blonde? I am not made to be a writer.) roots of her hair are emphasized because of the shiny, raven black she had dyed it. She seems more alive and animated, but she mainly fidgets with uncertainty or restlessness(I haven’t figured out which.) Her vulgar language has recovered and makes an appearance in almost every sentence she emits. I don’t mind. I find it quite hilarious that such a small, fragile girl has such a wide variety of strong words.
“Oh, but Gerard doesn’t mind. Do you?” Finn tugs on my arm like a kid asking for a toy. “Do-” That word is elongated, “you?” as well as this one.
“If I tell you why, will you get off of me?” I ask with the monotone mask mirroring Katy’s. I don’t want to answer these stupid questions, but I need their intense gazes off of me.
She squeals again, happily this time. “Oh yes! I will, I will.” With each ‘I will’, a tug on my arm is administered.
“It wasn’t suicide.” I state vaguely. I don’t want them to know I’m crazy. That last episode has made me lose faith in my sanity. I belong in here. Whenever I admit things I wish I had locked away, I get sad and untrusting of the people around me.
“What?!” Lindsey screeches, her perfectly shaped eyebrows pulling together.
“What was it then?” Katy asks quietly, her curiosity getting the best of her. Her presence in this conversation surprises me. Then, I remember that she’s the only patient that actually knows about my disorder. She can tell when my hallucinations visit me. I hope she hasn’t spread the word about my weakness. That could seriously hurt my mostly sane reputation.
I sigh tiredly. “Ray paid me a visit.” I mumble, worrying that they actually know who Ray is. They could be working with him and helping him plot against me. Fuck, I really am crazy. I can’t believe I actually think a hallucination is working with real people.
“Ooooh! Who’s Ray?” Finn asks, her dark green eyes searching mine. It’s hard to keep eye contact with those intense eyes. They’re making me want to truthfully answer her questions just to get this over with.
“A hallucination,” I say quietly, ashamed to admit that he wasn’t real. But fuck, it’s so hard to make my mind understand that this shit isn’t real.
“Fuck, I knew there was more to him then just depression.” Lindsey laughs.
“I was right! I won. You have to give me your mac-n-cheese tonight, Linds.” Finn states proudly and Lindsey sticks her tongue out at her. They had a fucking bet on what disorder I had. That is just cruel. Although my face remains apathetic, it makes me furious and slightly hurt that they think this all some silly little thing that they can place a fucking bet on.
“Fucking immature,” Katy mumbles, looking at me with sorry eyes. That’s the most emotion I’ve seen come from those eyes. It’s not the first emotion I wanted to be shown through those gre(a)y irises, but at least she is capable of real emotions. Unfortunately, her apathy has been transferred to me.
“I’m leaving.” I state quietly and feebly slip off my chair, minding my wounds. I awkwardly wander around the activities room, in search of something to do. I haven’t seen Jack in a while and I know he’s better than placing bets on people.
*
“As much as I’d love to get to the snuggly cute part, I need to be your psychiatrist, okay?” Frank asks quietly from above me, nipping at my bottom lip. His small frame is straddling me on the lounge chair. Of course he refused to at first, worrying about agitating my wounds. I just pulled his sleeve or belt loops until he sighed and climbed on me. I had, until recently, my hands on his tight waistcoat covered middle.
“Just for a little while.” He assures, slipping off of me despite my noises of dissatisfaction and grabby hands. He shuffles over to his desk and grabs my file, then elegantly searches for a pen. His moves have me in a trance. He turns to come back to me and gives me a smirk as he drags a chair in next to the head of the lounge chair. He gives a small peck to my forehead.
I finally nod and grumble, shuffling to get comfortable on the lounge chair “Okay.”
“Has Ray come back?” He starts with the question I know that has been on every one of the doctors’ and orderlies’ minds. I squirm uncomfortably because of the intensity of the question; the answer could cause these people to think I’m even crazier than they do now. I already believe I’m crazy, I don’t need them to also.
“Nuh-no,” I inhale sharply. “but I know he will.” Fuck, shouldn’t have said that.
“How do you know that?”
“Whenever he does something big, he leaves me alone for a couple days.” I inform. He should know this already. It’s already in my file.
“What will keep him away?”
“You,” I reply quietly, hoping he doesn’t want me to elaborate on that. I don’t really know how I’m going to explain my logic to him.
“How am I supposed to keep him away?”
I huff, “I told you! If you’re near me, he isn’t.”
“That’s not a permanent solution, Gerard. I can’t be with you all the time.” Frank states. Fuck you, Dr. Iero, I like Frank better.
“Why not?” This interrogation has turned around.
“I want you to be able to be on your own.” Frank proclaims dutifully. He stands up and places my file on his chair, making me hope he’s going to get back to straddling me. He doesn’t, but he gets closer and kneels beside me. He glides a cool, calming hand through my inky black hair. His intense hazel eyes scan my face, waiting for the next question that my beautiful mind will make up.
“Are you gonna be the one that saves me?” I meet his intense gaze with my murky orbs. His lips twitch, but I don’t know what emotion they were failing to show. He lowers those perfect lips to my cheek and presses a firm kiss there.
“I want you to save yourself.” He murmurs without taking his lips away from that one spot. I’m the one to break away from the contact. I feel like an asshole, but he’s not helping me at all. I got my hopes up. I changed my fucking ways to get this guy to save me. Now I know that he is just trying to get to my mind to use it against me. He gets me to believe he actually cares about me and then just rubs it in my face that he can’t actually save me.
I flip over, away from his angelic face. If it breaks my barriers, I don’t want to see it. That includes those hazardous hazel eyes and perfect, plush pout. I cover my face with one skeletal hand and throw the other arm across my waist. He puts a careful hand right beneath my elbow, squeezing my hip. I don’t have the heart to flinch away from his weakening touch.
“How?” I drone out through my fingers. The one measly word travels through the air and rings in Dr. Iero’s ears.
“By cooperating,” He articulates. “You can help me save you by cooperating.” I can’t help but feel like he’s just saying that to make me happy.
“Are you gonna be the one that saves me?” I quietly repeat my previous (significant) question.
He puts forth a perfectly pronounced and definite “Yes,”
*
I got over my little mood problem. I know I should never doubt his feelings about me. I know he cares for me. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t. He’s been chasing me for almost half his life. He started caring about me before I even knew he existed. That should say something.
We spent the rest of the session in comfortable and very welcomed silence. And now, I’m here walking down the quiet hallway with Frank at my side, the only thing accompanying us is the quiet sound of our shoes scrunching and crushing the deflated carpet. The author feels obligated to tell you that everything this man does around me, he does it close.
We arrive in the crowded cafeteria. Some interns and other doctors have come to Ancora Psychiatric Hospital to examine some of the patients. They feel it is the best time to talk to the patients when they are eating and calm. I absolutely detest when they interrupt my meals, but that’s just my asshole-ness showing. I can’t stand the doctors and the interns are worse. They never know what to do and unlike Frank, their nervousness and uncertainty is not adorable.
I already have a hard telling my actual doctor what’s on my mind. How am I supposed to talk to these doctors? For all I know, they could be working against me and trying to destroy my beautiful mind, the bastards. The one that Frank just convinced me I have. I want to keep this thing of beauty in my head as long as I can. Then, when my grandchildren grow up (if I have a child in the first place, adopted of course), I can provide them with many beautiful stories and plentiful knowledge so they can have beautiful minds just like me.
I hadn’t realized, until now, how much I really wanted a normal life outside of this prison. I hope that Frank won’t lose interest in me as soon as my beautiful mind is restored to full splendor. If he does, I don’t know how I’ll ever be discharged from this place. I need a safe place to stay and a stable person in my life. My parents already gave up on me and I don’t want to ruin Mikey’s life by scaring off all his friends and possibly girlfriends. I also might not be able to get a job with the whole ‘I’ve been in an asylum’ thing. What if future employers think I’m unstable? I can’t be in my own. Of course I’d help Frank with the monetary problem. I’d sell my paintings and other art, maybe music, to people. Rich assholes could host parties and brag about how this same painting was made by an insane person, while swirling there sparkling, shiny glass of the finest wine money can buy(imported straight from France, might I add).
I’d be a sellout as long as I get to say I’m with Frank.
“Why’d ya do it?” Except Lindsey. She has no restraints on her. She blurts out everything on her mind. I can’t remember a time where Lindsey has ever kept her mouth shut on a delicate subject.
“Lindsey!” Finn squeals fiercely. “You can’t just ask people why they attempted suicide.” She turns her wide, green eyes on me. “But, seriously. Why’d ya do it?”
“Guys, you are fucking immature.” Katy informs monotonously. Her eyes have gained flecks of her normal hazel, but they still remain predominantly gray. (should I spell it grey or gray? I know I’ve been switching off throughout this story.) The blonde (Fuck, blond or blonde? I am not made to be a writer.) roots of her hair are emphasized because of the shiny, raven black she had dyed it. She seems more alive and animated, but she mainly fidgets with uncertainty or restlessness(I haven’t figured out which.) Her vulgar language has recovered and makes an appearance in almost every sentence she emits. I don’t mind. I find it quite hilarious that such a small, fragile girl has such a wide variety of strong words.
“Oh, but Gerard doesn’t mind. Do you?” Finn tugs on my arm like a kid asking for a toy. “Do-” That word is elongated, “you?” as well as this one.
“If I tell you why, will you get off of me?” I ask with the monotone mask mirroring Katy’s. I don’t want to answer these stupid questions, but I need their intense gazes off of me.
She squeals again, happily this time. “Oh yes! I will, I will.” With each ‘I will’, a tug on my arm is administered.
“It wasn’t suicide.” I state vaguely. I don’t want them to know I’m crazy. That last episode has made me lose faith in my sanity. I belong in here. Whenever I admit things I wish I had locked away, I get sad and untrusting of the people around me.
“What?!” Lindsey screeches, her perfectly shaped eyebrows pulling together.
“What was it then?” Katy asks quietly, her curiosity getting the best of her. Her presence in this conversation surprises me. Then, I remember that she’s the only patient that actually knows about my disorder. She can tell when my hallucinations visit me. I hope she hasn’t spread the word about my weakness. That could seriously hurt my mostly sane reputation.
I sigh tiredly. “Ray paid me a visit.” I mumble, worrying that they actually know who Ray is. They could be working with him and helping him plot against me. Fuck, I really am crazy. I can’t believe I actually think a hallucination is working with real people.
“Ooooh! Who’s Ray?” Finn asks, her dark green eyes searching mine. It’s hard to keep eye contact with those intense eyes. They’re making me want to truthfully answer her questions just to get this over with.
“A hallucination,” I say quietly, ashamed to admit that he wasn’t real. But fuck, it’s so hard to make my mind understand that this shit isn’t real.
“Fuck, I knew there was more to him then just depression.” Lindsey laughs.
“I was right! I won. You have to give me your mac-n-cheese tonight, Linds.” Finn states proudly and Lindsey sticks her tongue out at her. They had a fucking bet on what disorder I had. That is just cruel. Although my face remains apathetic, it makes me furious and slightly hurt that they think this all some silly little thing that they can place a fucking bet on.
“Fucking immature,” Katy mumbles, looking at me with sorry eyes. That’s the most emotion I’ve seen come from those eyes. It’s not the first emotion I wanted to be shown through those gre(a)y irises, but at least she is capable of real emotions. Unfortunately, her apathy has been transferred to me.
“I’m leaving.” I state quietly and feebly slip off my chair, minding my wounds. I awkwardly wander around the activities room, in search of something to do. I haven’t seen Jack in a while and I know he’s better than placing bets on people.
*
“As much as I’d love to get to the snuggly cute part, I need to be your psychiatrist, okay?” Frank asks quietly from above me, nipping at my bottom lip. His small frame is straddling me on the lounge chair. Of course he refused to at first, worrying about agitating my wounds. I just pulled his sleeve or belt loops until he sighed and climbed on me. I had, until recently, my hands on his tight waistcoat covered middle.
“Just for a little while.” He assures, slipping off of me despite my noises of dissatisfaction and grabby hands. He shuffles over to his desk and grabs my file, then elegantly searches for a pen. His moves have me in a trance. He turns to come back to me and gives me a smirk as he drags a chair in next to the head of the lounge chair. He gives a small peck to my forehead.
I finally nod and grumble, shuffling to get comfortable on the lounge chair “Okay.”
“Has Ray come back?” He starts with the question I know that has been on every one of the doctors’ and orderlies’ minds. I squirm uncomfortably because of the intensity of the question; the answer could cause these people to think I’m even crazier than they do now. I already believe I’m crazy, I don’t need them to also.
“Nuh-no,” I inhale sharply. “but I know he will.” Fuck, shouldn’t have said that.
“How do you know that?”
“Whenever he does something big, he leaves me alone for a couple days.” I inform. He should know this already. It’s already in my file.
“What will keep him away?”
“You,” I reply quietly, hoping he doesn’t want me to elaborate on that. I don’t really know how I’m going to explain my logic to him.
“How am I supposed to keep him away?”
I huff, “I told you! If you’re near me, he isn’t.”
“That’s not a permanent solution, Gerard. I can’t be with you all the time.” Frank states. Fuck you, Dr. Iero, I like Frank better.
“Why not?” This interrogation has turned around.
“I want you to be able to be on your own.” Frank proclaims dutifully. He stands up and places my file on his chair, making me hope he’s going to get back to straddling me. He doesn’t, but he gets closer and kneels beside me. He glides a cool, calming hand through my inky black hair. His intense hazel eyes scan my face, waiting for the next question that my beautiful mind will make up.
“Are you gonna be the one that saves me?” I meet his intense gaze with my murky orbs. His lips twitch, but I don’t know what emotion they were failing to show. He lowers those perfect lips to my cheek and presses a firm kiss there.
“I want you to save yourself.” He murmurs without taking his lips away from that one spot. I’m the one to break away from the contact. I feel like an asshole, but he’s not helping me at all. I got my hopes up. I changed my fucking ways to get this guy to save me. Now I know that he is just trying to get to my mind to use it against me. He gets me to believe he actually cares about me and then just rubs it in my face that he can’t actually save me.
I flip over, away from his angelic face. If it breaks my barriers, I don’t want to see it. That includes those hazardous hazel eyes and perfect, plush pout. I cover my face with one skeletal hand and throw the other arm across my waist. He puts a careful hand right beneath my elbow, squeezing my hip. I don’t have the heart to flinch away from his weakening touch.
“How?” I drone out through my fingers. The one measly word travels through the air and rings in Dr. Iero’s ears.
“By cooperating,” He articulates. “You can help me save you by cooperating.” I can’t help but feel like he’s just saying that to make me happy.
“Are you gonna be the one that saves me?” I quietly repeat my previous (significant) question.
He puts forth a perfectly pronounced and definite “Yes,”
*
I got over my little mood problem. I know I should never doubt his feelings about me. I know he cares for me. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t. He’s been chasing me for almost half his life. He started caring about me before I even knew he existed. That should say something.
We spent the rest of the session in comfortable and very welcomed silence. And now, I’m here walking down the quiet hallway with Frank at my side, the only thing accompanying us is the quiet sound of our shoes scrunching and crushing the deflated carpet. The author feels obligated to tell you that everything this man does around me, he does it close.
We arrive in the crowded cafeteria. Some interns and other doctors have come to Ancora Psychiatric Hospital to examine some of the patients. They feel it is the best time to talk to the patients when they are eating and calm. I absolutely detest when they interrupt my meals, but that’s just my asshole-ness showing. I can’t stand the doctors and the interns are worse. They never know what to do and unlike Frank, their nervousness and uncertainty is not adorable.
I already have a hard telling my actual doctor what’s on my mind. How am I supposed to talk to these doctors? For all I know, they could be working against me and trying to destroy my beautiful mind, the bastards. The one that Frank just convinced me I have. I want to keep this thing of beauty in my head as long as I can. Then, when my grandchildren grow up (if I have a child in the first place, adopted of course), I can provide them with many beautiful stories and plentiful knowledge so they can have beautiful minds just like me.
I hadn’t realized, until now, how much I really wanted a normal life outside of this prison. I hope that Frank won’t lose interest in me as soon as my beautiful mind is restored to full splendor. If he does, I don’t know how I’ll ever be discharged from this place. I need a safe place to stay and a stable person in my life. My parents already gave up on me and I don’t want to ruin Mikey’s life by scaring off all his friends and possibly girlfriends. I also might not be able to get a job with the whole ‘I’ve been in an asylum’ thing. What if future employers think I’m unstable? I can’t be in my own. Of course I’d help Frank with the monetary problem. I’d sell my paintings and other art, maybe music, to people. Rich assholes could host parties and brag about how this same painting was made by an insane person, while swirling there sparkling, shiny glass of the finest wine money can buy(imported straight from France, might I add).
I’d be a sellout as long as I get to say I’m with Frank.
Notes
I haven't read over this so there might be a couple mess ups. Sorry! And sorry for making Finn an asshole this chapter, she'll turn less evil in future chapters.(although I can't say the same for Lindsey)I wanted this chapter to be smut because y'know 13 is unlucky, but then I'd be like "But Frank and Gerard definitely got lucky"
But smut is next chapter!(at least I hope, this story changes a lot)
Ancora is an actual place.
Just because Gerard(in this story) thinks he's the only one with a beautiful mind, doesn't mean it's true. I love all of you! Thanks for all the comments and rates!
-Alex:)
\(O.O)/
2/9/15