The Mistake
The Walls Can Speak
April 12th, Monday
The previous events had ripped a new gash into Gerard's field of scars. He felt like an empty shell of the person he once was. His remaining sanity was draining, almost the point where he expected a pool of the slimy green stuff to form beneath him.
I must remind you that this is not an accurate description of tangible sanity, considering you nor I nor anyone else has ever seen such a thing.
He hadn't moved from his spot in the corner for day now, letting the trays of food sit, leaving the pills to go untouched , thus creating the gaping hole in his raft-of-competence. He clutched the hoodie Frank left for him all those weeks ago, keep his face buried in it in hopes of suffocating himself, but he never did succeed. He remembered Frank's promise, holding it just as close to him, counting the days that would pass before he saw the boy again.
Gerard did not see it fit to call Frank and Mikey his friends any longer; they were gone, possibly never coming back, despite the promises, and he was alone. They had other friends, they had lives. Gerard knew, logically, they could not forget about him and their promise so soon, but there was always the irrational fear that they had already moved on with their lives.
But what if it was not so irrational?
What if they really weren't going to return to Gerard? What if they had lied, knowing they weren't ever coming back, just to keep Gerard at bay? This brought on another wave of tears tumbling down his face.
He had decided he had done enough crying for one day (for this was the third time) and quickly stood up, shuffling over to his bed. He curled up in it, still clutching the hoodie, and closed his eyes.
Don't go to sleep...
Gerard barely flinched when the voice spoke. He raised a lazy eyebrow, too weary to do much else.
You won't ever wake up...
Can't ever wake up...
Never one to believe the voices of those who were never there, Gerard let his eyebrow fall back into place. He figured he'd let the walls talk amongst themselves; they were great conversationalists.
Gerard...
Suffocating...
Won't ever wake up...
Can't ever...
Wake up...
The previous events had ripped a new gash into Gerard's field of scars. He felt like an empty shell of the person he once was. His remaining sanity was draining, almost the point where he expected a pool of the slimy green stuff to form beneath him.
I must remind you that this is not an accurate description of tangible sanity, considering you nor I nor anyone else has ever seen such a thing.
He hadn't moved from his spot in the corner for day now, letting the trays of food sit, leaving the pills to go untouched , thus creating the gaping hole in his raft-of-competence. He clutched the hoodie Frank left for him all those weeks ago, keep his face buried in it in hopes of suffocating himself, but he never did succeed. He remembered Frank's promise, holding it just as close to him, counting the days that would pass before he saw the boy again.
Gerard did not see it fit to call Frank and Mikey his friends any longer; they were gone, possibly never coming back, despite the promises, and he was alone. They had other friends, they had lives. Gerard knew, logically, they could not forget about him and their promise so soon, but there was always the irrational fear that they had already moved on with their lives.
But what if it was not so irrational?
What if they really weren't going to return to Gerard? What if they had lied, knowing they weren't ever coming back, just to keep Gerard at bay? This brought on another wave of tears tumbling down his face.
He had decided he had done enough crying for one day (for this was the third time) and quickly stood up, shuffling over to his bed. He curled up in it, still clutching the hoodie, and closed his eyes.
Don't go to sleep...
Gerard barely flinched when the voice spoke. He raised a lazy eyebrow, too weary to do much else.
You won't ever wake up...
Can't ever wake up...
Never one to believe the voices of those who were never there, Gerard let his eyebrow fall back into place. He figured he'd let the walls talk amongst themselves; they were great conversationalists.
Gerard...
Suffocating...
Won't ever wake up...
Can't ever...
Wake up...
Notes
Short one, but I'm pumping this thing out early for ya. It's 6:18 am where I am, so enjoy, you crazy insomniacs.
Tell me what your reaction to the schizophrenia finally rearing it's ugly head was, I'm interested.
Comment and subscribe and rate and shit.
-Stitches
Hi there. I'm not sure if you still look at this account at all, but I just reread this fic from start to finish, for the third time, and I just want to say how much I love it...if you're there. ;)
x
6/24/16