Desolation Row

*Roxy's POV*

Like all stories whether it's Fiction or not, we're coming to an end. In this case it's the end of my fantasy filled dream. So it's time for reality to kick back in. But why listen to me anyways. You can't trust me, no one can. My parents didn't, considering they placed me in a mental asylum.

it's been about 4 years or so, each day my sanity decreases and is replaced with the facade of the world we live in. They put me in when I was 17, almost 18. I'm 21 now and I'm far from sane, or so they think. In my opinion, i think I'm complete fine. They're just to oblivious to see it.

When I'm not busy socializing with the clinically insane, I like to write stories about the adventures that I would've had in my life, one being the one I just told you. Pretty good I think. I've been so engrossed in writing it lately, but I'm not sure how to end it, don't think I will to be honest. However it's been the only story that I felt I was compelled to write, even though I've never gone to that camp, or met Frank and Gerard. Never had been cheated on, never ran away, never met Bonnie or anything. It was all just an alternate universe held in my perfectly fine mind.

My parents haven't visited me since they sent me here. I think they got a divorce or something, I'm pretty sure mom is already married to another guy, oh well, I couldn't give a shit even if I wanted to. I'm never going to be able to forgive them, they put me in this hell hole and told me to never try and search for them if I got out. They didn't believe me when I told them that I didn't kill her, no one did.

I think I'm going to take a break from writing, this story was pretty overwhelming, even if it wasn't real. It felt real. It's about 2 in the afternoon, I'm currently sitting in the hall. The hall was a huge room filled with absolute nut jobs, we were supposed to 'socialize'. I hated it. We were forced to sit in here until dinner everyday. There was nothing to do besides sit at a table and play a game of scrabble. I usually sit way at the back behind a potted plant at the corner of the hall and write or draw.

Today I decided to draw someone, since I'm laying off writing for awhile, I should probably focus on my art skills. Hmmm, who to draw.....The possibilities were endless but everyone here was so boring and old. Oh I know! I'll draw Bonnie. I pictured her as a small petite girl with long black hair and crystal blue eyes.

An hour later and I finished touching up on her hair. I looked up and peered through the leaves. Everyone here had friends or made friends with someone, even if it was the janitor or guards. No one talked to me so it got pretty lonely at times. I'm filed under 'dangerous' which is complete utter bullshit so they don't dare to talk to me. The room was quiet until the guards barged in, dragging a new patient while he was yelling

"YOU'RE GOING TO HELL, I'M GOING TO HELL, WE'RE ALL GOING TO HELL."

The guards shoved him on a sofa that was kinda close to my plant, I pushed away some leaves to get a closer view of him. He looked oddly familiar, I just couldn't put my finger on it. He caught me staring at him while I tried to remember that face.

"What are you looking at weirdo"

I knew his voice, I've heard it in my dreams. He's in my stories. One of my latest stories to be exact.

It was Gerard.

Notes

WAWAAWAWA I'M DOING ANOTHER STORY NOT A SEQUEL THO, SOZ BABES.

SO IN THE END ROXY NEVER WENT TO CAMP AND MET GERARD OR FRANK. IT WAS ALL JUST A PART OF HER IMAGINATION. SHE WAS PUT IN THE MENTAL ASYLUM WHEN SHE WAS 17 BECAUSE SHE 'KILLED' A GIRL. THE END. (I KNOW THIS SUCKS BUT I FELT LIKE THIS STORY WAS SOOOO BORING. I DIDN'T KNOW WHERE IT WAS GOING TBH)

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