Once, when I was about eight, before the whole insanity thing kicked off, I came home from school after being pushed around and bullied by this kid in my class. I walked in and sat down, and I bawled my eyes out. My Momma came and sat next to me, she put her arm around me, and I cried into her shirt until I felt a little better. I then told her all about the nasty boy who pushed me around, and she went all Hulk, stormed into school, and got the principal involved. She fixed it all for me. I remember how comforted I’d felt, when she held me and promised to make it all better. To my surprise, I felt the ghost of the comfort beginning to appear now, while Frank had his arm circling my shoulders. I didn’t understand why – the guy’s a total stranger, for crying out loud! A stranger who made me pancakes, but still. I felt almost…. Safe? I don’t know. I leant against his side, and he had his arm on me, hand on my hair. He didn’t speak, he just let me sit there and let out the explosion that had been building up in me for so long. When my eyes finally ran dry, I sat up, wiping my cheeks with the heels of my hands, and coughed in embarrassment. “Uhm, I’m really sorry, I-” he shook his head and cut me off. “Dude, it’s cool. You had a fucking good reason, that much is obvious, and everybody needs a good cry sometimes, you know? So don’t worry about it.” He flashed me a smile that melted me a tiny bit. Yeah, that’s girly, do I care? “But,” he continued. That froze me back up again. “Will you please tell me what caused that? You’re killing me, dude.” His light nervous laughter rang through the room. I’m killing him? What? The room changed suddenly, and I could see it. The light darkened, and the pain became evident on his face. As did the blood staining the bed. I was killing him. I could see that now. I wasn’t sure what I’d done, but I’d done something. I’d hurt him, just like I hurt everybody else. No wonder they wanted to put me away. I jumped up, and backed away, trying to move away from him before my pathetic existence caused any more damage. Confusion shadowed his face. “Gerard, what the hell?” he stood up and tried to come closer to me. No, no I can’t let him do that. I’ll hurt him more. I pressed back until I as against the wall, and I cringed into it, trying to hide from him so he couldn’t come and get himself even more hurt. “Gerard!” I winced. Now he was mad at me. “Gerard, please, just stop and talk to me! I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” Oh, there we go. The I’m-talking-to-a-crazy-person tone, just like Momma and Dr Lee used. He’s just like- wait, what did he say? HE won’t hurt ME? I stopped pushing myself away from him, and I stared at him, confused. He must have seen that I wasn’t running anymore, and he stepped over to me cautiously. When he was very close to me, he took my hand and pulled me out of the room, down the stairs and into a small living room. He sat on the sofa, dragging me onto the seat beside him, and he looked me full in the face. “Now,” his tone had changed to authoritative, commanding. “Tell me everything dude, now.” I looked down. He sighed heavily, exasperated, and I felt his hand slide under my chin and pull my face up to look at him. His face had softened again. “Come on,” he murmured. “You’ll feel better. I’m not going to judge you, okay? If that’s what you’re worried about. Just tell me what’s wrong with you, and let me try to help you.” I bit my lip. “I… I don’t know how,” I whispered pathetically. He frowned and studied me a little longer. “Start at the beginning,” he suggested. “Why did you leave home?” I had to laugh a little at this, though not out of humour. He thought that was the beginning. No, that was the end. The end of a very long story that I’d never shared. But now, to my shock, part of me did want to share it. I felt like I could trust this Frank, even though I knew it was ridiculous. Why would he be any different from anybody else? He wouldn’t he’d react like they all did. But would he? A tiny part of my mind was questioning my conviction. He hadn’t acted like a normal person would yet. He’d bought me into his home, without knowing a single thing about me. He’d given me food, a place to sleep, and a shoulder to cry on. Maybe he was the one I could trust with my deadly secret. He was still waiting for me to answer his question, but I asked one of my own. “Why are you doing this for me?” he scowled. “I already told you, I-” I interrupted. “Yeah, yeah, I know, you got kicked out by your parents. But, still, I could be an axe-wielding murderer for all you know.” He shook his head. “But you’re not.” I sighed, almost growled in frustration. “No, I’m not, but how do you know that?” It was his turn to look at his hands. “Because, I can tell. You’re not like that. You’re not here to kill me or hurt me or anything like that. You’re broken, I can tell by your eyes. And I want to fix you.” I stared at him, bewildered by his words. He didn’t give me chance to recover. “Now, tell me what is wrong with you."

Notes

Ta-Daaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Hahah, I apologize for the overall shittiness, I'm running on two hours sleep today. I kinda want Gerard to sound a little child-like, is it working? Comment, rate, stay gorgeous :) Paranoia Violence out xø