The Fantasy

Mikey pulled on his dark skinny jeans, looking back at the pretty girl who lay fast asleep in her bed; her face possessed an almost childlike innocence in the sunlight that shone down from the bedroom window. Mikey pulled the leopard print sheet over her naked body, kissing her on the forehead as he silently left her house.

*****
Mikey jumped off the bus, taking large steps towards his house as the bus choked away from the curb. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing his fringe off his face as he checked the time on his phone; it had just turned 9 am. He rolled his eyes; he’d never been up this early on a Saturday in his life. A small smile spread across face as his mind wandered back to the night in Caterina’s house; the way she felt in his arms, her soft lips against it... it was so surreal that he actually thought for a moment that it might have been a dream.

He reached his front door, fumbling for his keys in the pocket of his hoody and quickly put them into the door; rubbing his eyes as he yawned. He checked behind him, a strange feeling overcoming him as the cold morning breeze blew gently against his face. It was a feeling he had not felt in a long time. It sent a shiver down his spine, haunting him as it tugged away at his thoughts. Mikey shook his off, pushing open the front door and hurried himself inside, gazing up at the ceiling as he pressed his back firmly against it.“I’m home” He called out, walking through the house to the kitchen, listening out for his father or Gerard.
Silence.

Where is everyone? He thought, walking through the house, looking for any signs of life; his heart racing in his chest as dark, frightening thoughts began to seep into his mind. “Seriously this isn’t funny guys” He said uneasily. There was a thud from upstairs, sprinkling dust from the ceiling into his hair; making him jump and stare up the ceiling in terror.
It came from Gerard’s room.

Mikey ran up the stairs, his heart facing as fear began to rise in his chest. He stood at the top of the stairs, looking down the long dark corridor to his brother’s bedroom. He crept closer to his room, rapidly looking around as the feeling, the growing feeling of being watched, festered within him. A deathly silence hung in the air, the only sound coming from Mikey’s footsteps as he finally reached the door. Taking a deep breath a deep breath, he slowly pushed it open; the door creaked on its hinges as Mikey stepped inside. “Gee?” He called out quietly, flicking the light on.
The room was empty.

Mikey sighed, relaxing slightly as his eyes fell upon a broken mug on Gerard’s floor. That’s what it was, of course there’s no one else in the house he thought, shaking his head as he wandered to the centre of Gerard’s room, admiring the drawings scattered on his wall. He truly was an artist. The way he could capture people like that was admirable. The pictures were a little weird, with intimate scenes and images of horror someone would expect to see in the necronomicon, but that was his brother all over. A smile began to form on his face as a feeling of pride began to wash over him- he couldn’t believe how talented he was.

But as he continued to look at the drawings, he noticed something wrong with them.

In each picture, the man looked an awful lot like Frank.

His blood ran cold as his body shuddered. He had seen all this before. His eyes darted from one picture to the next; suddenly seeing them for what they were. It wasn’t just art. It was sadistic pornography. Images of violent, bloody acts being performed on what looked like a frightened Frank danced before his eyes, sending a chill down his spine. He felt sick. All of this was disgusting. His mouth gapped open as his eyes fell upon a picture tapped to the wall at the end of Gerard’s bed. The picture was of Frank, chained up in a cell with a dark, frightening looking figure torturing him with sharp objects while it had sex with him.

“Do you like them?” A voice asked coldly from behind him. Mikey spun on his heel, his face growing pale as he saw Gerard holding a knife in his hand. He slowly backed away, fear coursing through his veins as he found himself stunned into silence. “What’s happened to you Gee? Your sick you... you need help” He said shakily, trying to muster up some courage to fight his way out of the room. But as Gerard began to walk towards him, laughing manically with the large kitchen knife pointed right at him, he knew there was no way out of this situation. “No Mikey I think it’s you who needs help” He said softly.

Gerard lunged at him, shoving Mikey against the wall and holding him there by his hair. Mikey screamed, wriggling in Gerard’s painful grip before his brother held the cold, metal blade to his throat; quickly silencing his cries. “shh shh is ok, I won’t hurt you” Gerard said soothingly, stroking his hair, locking eyes with this terrified younger brother. “Now, what I do in my own time has nothing to do with you ok? I don’t want you running your mouth off and landing me in jail do I?” He continued, pressing the blade against Mikey’s throat.

Mikey froze, unable to move or speak; his eyes fixed on Gerard’s, unable to look away. “So here’s what we’re going to do, I’m going to let you go and you’re going to promise me that you won’t tell anyone about me and Frank. Because if anyone finds out, I’ll kill you, understand” He said softly, smiling sweetly at Mikey before letting him go and beckoning him out of the room. Mikey slowly walked out of the room, his heart racing as he moved. He stopped suddenly in the door way, he couldn’t allow this. He couldn’t just let another boy get screwed over by Gerard; he needed to get him help and fast. “I’ll keep quiet, you know I will, but I can’t let you do to Frank what you did to Ryan, you’re sick and you need help” He replied sadly, leaving Gerard alone in his room.

He stood in the centre of the room, lowering the knife as his smile quickly faded. He had almost forgotten about Ryan. What happened with Ryan wasn’t his fault. It was Ryan who tempted him, who made him do those awful things. It was Ryan who made him lose his temper, who made him get angry. It wasn’t his fault.

It wasn’t his fault.

It wasn’t my fault, it was his... it was always his fault.

Notes

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