I have no idea what told me to open his closet, but I couldn't resist the urge pull the door to Bert’s closet open and see what was inside. It looked like a normal closet, and I was probably just being silly. As I looked inside I realized I made a big mistake. It was another room, about the size of his bedroom. I step inside and look around. I’m surrounded by pictures of me close up and from a distance. When the hell did he take these? Why does he have them?
I step in closer and my heart breaks.
"Victims" Is written on the wall in bright red paint, messily smeared around different pictures and newspaper clippings. I look closer and see the words “Eliminated” written under them with a red pen. Kayla Pierce. She went missing in 2008 in 5th grade. No one ever found her body. Here’s the picture of Mrs. Gee our English teacher who was murdered. 7th grade 2010. I don’t recognize anyone else on this list. My eyes continue to scan the pictures. Wait, oh my, God. NO! I fall to my knees. The last picture. The most recent. My murdered girlfriend. Lindsey.
“Gerard? Where'd you go, babe?” Bert calls from his bedroom. That bastard! He killed her! I've been dating the one who killed my love! My fists clench as the tears fall from my eyes. I slam the door to the closet open and shove him against the wall.
“Gerard! What’s the matter?!” Bert cries out.
“You sick fuck! You killed her! You killed them all! How could you!?” I pound my fist against his chest as I scream at him.
“What are you talking about, sweetie? I mean I love that you’re talking again but what’s gotten you so mad at me?” He asks in an innocent voice. I back up and he guides me to the bed.
“You...killed...my...” I'm sobbing now. I look helplessly at Bert.
“I killed what, Gerard? That little whore?” Bert asks in a taunting voice. I pull my pocket knife out of my jacket. The one I’ve sharpened so many times, waiting on the killer of Lyn-z to show his face.
"What are you going to do with THAT?" Bert jerked it out of my hand and threw it to the floor.
Suddenly, I feel like I shouldn't have done that.
"That's right," He chuckled lowly. "Nothing." He jumped up and locked his bedroom door. Oh, no...He came back over to me and straddled me.
"P-p-please, Bert!" I choke out; he started kissing my neck roughly.
"Stop-p," I groaned. He mistook it for a moan.
"Nuu-uhh," He sighed into my hair. His hands found his way under my shirt and he started caressing my chest. I fought the urge to puke and tried to get up.
"No, you're not getting out of this one," He pulled out his own knife and cut my Misfits shirt off of me. Tears slid down my face as he undid my belt and then my jeans. He slipped the denim down past my knees and cut my boxers off of me. He paused only a second to remove his clothing before entering me harshly. I hissed and he started moving faster and faster. I closed my eyes and imagined Frank instead of Bert. It didn't take long for him to finish and put his clothes back on.
"Get the fuck out of here, Gerard," He pulled me off of the bed by my hair and kicked me in the stomach. He pulled the blood-soaked sheets off and turned towards the door. He opened it and walked down to the basement where Billie Joe was playing video games. I put on my jacket and pulled my jeans on. I walked slowly to Ray's house, barely aware of how bloody my jeans and hands were. I needed my Frankie.

Notes

Oh no! Bert! Stahp! What are you doing?! (I hate this chapter ;-;)

"I would date Gerard."
- Frank Iero
We know, Frank. We know.
XOXO
~Luna