Save Yourself, I'll Hold Them Back

My body was sore when my eyes shot open in the middle of the night. I rolled over to the other side and faced Gerard who was asleep. I struggled to sit up, and when I did, a hand touched my left shoulder...which was odd because Gerard was to my right.
I hesitated but turned my head to the left-a dark figure was beside me, only a few feet away from the bed. It wasn't another parade suit, this one was much different than the others. I squinted my eyes, trying to see if I can get a better look-the figure seemed to be wearing a bright blue jacket. To the side of its chest was a small printing, saying, "Dead Pegasus".
It was strange.
This figure wasn't as dark as the others. This figure seemed more brighter and colorful. It's face was still covered in a dark smog, but something about this figure made me feel safe.
"Can...can you talk to me?" I said. My hands reached out to it, but before I could touch it, it took a small step back. The figure stayed in the same spot for a couple seconds before retreating in the dark.
"Wait-"
"Frankie?"
My attention turned to Gee who was yawning, "What are you doing?"
"There was someone here-"
He chuckled, "I'm sure it was just in your head." He wrapped his arm around my neck, "Go back to sleep."
He reeled me down onto the bed and laid his head on my shoulder, "We need sleep before..." His voice trailed off, "What's the plan for tomorrow anyway?"
"You could go back." Ray's voice echoed.
"Well..." I groaned, "Fuck, I don't know...this choice is yours, Gee. What do you want to do?"
"Keep running." He yawned, "I don't want to go back."
"What about you brother?"
Gee paused, "I'm going to miss him...so much."


Gee sat in the passenger's seat, "Where are we headed?"
"I say we keep driving until we have no clue where we are." I smiled.
Gee laughed, tossing his head back, "Well, it's not a thought out plan but it's a plan."
"Nowhere it is." I replied, turning the key ignition, "Gerard, you ready to disappear?"
"Baby I've been waiting for a very long time to hear those words." He slammed his hands against the back of my seat, "Drive until we're stranded!"
This is it. No going back. I wonder how long we'll drive until we hit a next town. I wonder if where ever this road takes us will be a pro-gay community. I smiled as my eyes were set on the road, "Would you want to marry a Schitzo?"
"Only if you would marry a paranoid-murderous-red head." He grinned.
I frowned, "Murderous?"
"I'm not exactly a saint, Frankie."
I glanced at him. I sighed, "Yeah, well that makes two of us." Dr. Laguna deserved it, right? He had a slow painful death coming to him. But still, the thought of my own two hands committing the most horrendous scene makes me cringe. There was so much blood...so much...blood. Images flashed in my mind of the blood of another human being splattering on my clothes.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
"You okay?"
I abruptly stomped on the brakes. I slammed my head against the wheel followed by another thump next to me. "No, I'm not o-fucking kay!" I screamed, feeling the blood dripping from my forehead.
Gerard rubbed his forehead, "Whoa there-ouch." His finger touched his cut across his forehead, "Fuck."
I looked at him, "Shit. Sorry-" I sighed, "Gee, would you think I'm less of a man if I say I'm scared?"
"No." He wiped his arm across his forehead, "But it'd be great it you could tell me when you're going to stop the brakes out of nowhere." He chuckled.
"Gee, I'm serious." My eyes started to water, "What if we do escape? We get away form everything but my urges get stronger and stronger until I finally break-what if I kill someone again? I don't think I can live with myself."
Gee smirked, "You're scared of yourself?" Ouch, harsh. His tone was very daggering, "And here I thought I was worshipping you for the way you handled everything. Frankie, I love you. I do. But you need to accept these voices. Don't be fucking scared if they take over. Be proud that they're willing to do things that you so desperately want to do, but too cowardly to do so."
"Are...are you saying that I want to kill?"
He smiled a bit, "Everyone thinks about it." he added, "but there's always that other voice in your head that is your conscience."
Ray.
"They stop you. But is that always good? Why not let a little steam off? Most people punch a bag, others draw, write-but the most broken people punch others, draw or write on their skins with a piece of metal...and kill. Tell me, Frankie, how broken are you?" He raised a brow.
I stared at him.
"Not as broken as you think I am." I said as I started to drive again.
I heard him mutter, "I guess we'll see further down the road."

Notes

I'm not promoting killing other people. Or self-harm. Or punching others. Js.