Everything Burns

The dingy city was alive with the sounds of late-night activity. Feet pounded the grungy streets, feet with a destination, feet intent on the fun their owners were soon to have in their favorite haunts. Cigarette smoke filled the air, most of it coming from the various bars in the area, their windows and doors thrown open in the hopes of tempting customers with the sounds of lively socializing and gossip. There was not one person who came to this city who didn't have a place to go; everyone who was on the streets that night was either cavorting around with their friends or hanging out in the clubs.

Everyone, that is, except for one young man, who was currently sitting on the porch of a desolate building, intent on his drawing, and who was only here in a vain attempt to gain some fresh air in this tobacco-choked city.

Gerard knew his mother would be worried about him-- he never usually stayed out this late, and he was never allowed in this part of the city... hell, he was hardly allowed to go outside much in his own dangerous neighborhood. But he was doing this as much for his mother as for himself-- he had been coming here every night after school for a week, in an attempt to lose any bullies that may have been stalking him. Last week, they had followed him home, throwing rocks at him the whole way. He barely escaped from this abuse, but they had thrown a rock through his window in a last-ditch attempt to hit him, which had nearly concussed his mother. He could not ever again put her in that kind of danger on his account.

He knew he looked rather out-of-place in this crowd-- his formfitting black t-shirt, black skinny jeans, Converse, and gray hoodie certainly stood out amongst the summery colors that surrounded him-- but he was sure no one would pay much attention to him in the midst of their parties, and if any bullies had been following him, he knew this district better than they did, and he knew where he could go if he needed to hide. But for now, he was mostly safe, and could sit alone and finish his drawing.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and whipped around, his pencil raised, ready to stab whoever was behind him-- but his tense muscles soon relaxed as he took in the familiar face of a boy with long brown bangs, his brown eyes formed into a concerned look under his eyeglasses.

"Mikey, don't ever scare me like that," Gerard said to his brother as he lowered his pencil. "I thought you were a mugger or something."

"Sorry," Mikey replied. "But I came down here to check on you. Mom's really worried about you."

"You're checking on me?" Gerard said with a raised eyebrow. He was slightly perturbed at the idea of being checked on by his younger brother.

"Well... yeah," Mikey said, running a hand through his hair. "Mom sent me after you, she's almost hysterical. And I'm kind of worried about you, too." Mikey's face suddenly became stern.

"Why do you keep running away?"

Gerard thought for a second about answering his brother with a sarcastic remark. Instead he sighed and admitted, "I'm not running away."

"Then how come you never come home at night anymore?"

"I come home at night," Gerard answered shrewdly. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be in my bed in the morning, would I?"

"You know what I mean, Gerard." Mikey now looked frustrated with his older brother. "You used to come straight home after school every day, or if not, you'd go to the library. Now you're never in either place anymore-- why?"

"Oh, I don't know," Gerard said. "I guess I was just looking for a place where nagging little brothers couldn't nose into my private business?"

"Now I have to know... since when did you become such a dick?" Mikey's face had now hardened with anger. "Since when did you start treating me like I'm a stranger?"

“I suppose you think I’m obligated to update you on every single tiny detail of my life? You’re not my father, you know.”

“But I am your brother, and I want to know what’s going on with you.”

“You’re my younger brother. I don’t have to answer to you.” He picked up his pencil and turned back to his drawing. “Why don’t you go back home and do karate or something? I want to be alone.”

In reality, Gerard knew that most of what he had said to Mikey wasn’t true in the least. Granted, he was just slightly annoyed with the way Mikey had been prodding him for the past couple of months, but the truth was, he was grateful that at least one person cared about how he was feeling. He knew that his brother was only doing what he thought was best.
Which was a lot of why he was trying to push Mikey away right now. Why he had been hiding from his little brother for two months. Why he had barely spoken to the boy anymore. He didn’t want Mikey to get involved in his problems, because he was afraid of dragging Mikey down with him.

Moreover, he was afraid of losing him.

There was a short pause in the two boys’ conversation, during which Gerard continued working on his drawing. A pair of hands fixed themselves tightly onto Gerard’s shoulders, and in an instant, his face was nose-to-nose with Mikey’s exasperatedly enraged countenance.

Gerard disguised his shock with a glare of his own. “Let go of me, Mikey.”

“No. Not until you tell me exactly what is wrong with you.”

Gerard shrugged him off and turned back to his drawing. “It’s none of your damn business, Mikey, now leave me alone.”

“Does it have anything to do with the bullies?”

Gerard jerked with a start. He wasn’t going to admit it just yet, but Mikey had hit the nail right on the head.

“What bullies?”

“Devon and his friends,” Mikey responded, reciting the very name of the leader of the pack of boys that had been tormenting Gerard ever since he had started high school. “I know he was the one who threw that rock through the window last week. Is that why you come here? To avoid them?”

Although Mikey was mostly right about the whole thing, Gerard contorted his face into one of aggression. “I’m not scared of them!”

“Doesn’t matter whether you are or you aren’t. I still don’t think you’d enjoy running into them.”

Gerard scoffed. “I suppose you think you’re a psychiatrist or something?”

“No… I just think I want to help you, but you have to let me.”

Gerard turned back to his drawing again. “I don’t need any help.”

“You don’t mean that, Gerard.”

“Would you please stop questioning me!? It’s getting on my nerves!”

“I’m not questioning you; I just want to know how you feel.”

Gerard had now had enough of the back and forth. “You want to know so badly? Fine!” He slammed his sketchbook and pencil onto the porch, nearly breaking the pencil. “I am scared, alright?! I’m fucking terrified! I get teased every single day, slammed into lockers, punched in the face, and now they’ve started following me home, and I’ve put you all in danger! They almost killed Mom last week, and it’s my fault! And if they try to hurt you next…” he paused, his glower steadily softening, before averting his eyes to his knees.

“If they try to hurt you next…”

There was silence. Neither of the brothers spoke for several seconds, the only sound being the ambient noises of the city streets. Finally, Mikey broke the silence between them.

“You really think this is your fault?”

Gerard turned his head to face his brother. Behind his glasses, Mikey wore an expression of concern mixed in with confusion.

“I… well, if they hadn’t been attacking me…”

Mikey shook his head. “It’s not your fault, Gerard. You didn’t make them chase you.”

“But I…”

“No. You did nothing. They’re just assholes who think they have the right to abuse you because you’re a little different from them. Don’t ever blame yourself for this, Gerard.”

Gerard opened his mouth to say something, but Mikey shook his head. “We’re gonna be fine, okay? Cutting yourself off from me and Mom isn’t going to protect anybody. It’s only gonna hurt you in the long run.”

Gerard stared at his drawing pad. He had to admit that his brother was kind of right. Running away didn’t solve anything; it only made his mother worry and put his little brother in danger via having to search for him in the middle of a dangerous neighborhood. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“I’m sorry, Mikey…”

“Forget about it.” He patted his older brother on the back. “Better hope Mom is as forgiving.”

This got a good laugh out of Gerard. “Yeah, I know how her temper is. I guess I deserve it this time, though.”

“You sure as hell do.” Gerard looked to see Mikey fixing him with a shrewd smile, which he returned.

“Shut up, Mikes.”


As Mikey had predicted, Gerard’s mother was fairly upset with him. She yelled at him for thirty minutes straight, asking how dare he run away and worry her and his brother like that, telling him that what he had been doing this past week was absolutely unacceptable, grounding him for just as long, and telling him that if he ever does anything like this again, next time she’ll make it two. Gerard did not attempt to defend or justify himself at any point during his mother’s rant; he knew he deserved everything he got from her. Still, he couldn’t help but feel distraught as he retreated to his room on his mother’s orders.

“A whole week?! Shit, this sucks!” He collapsed onto his bed angrily. “Damn, and I was gonna go and get a copy of Fright Night this weekend… it’ll be sold out by the time I’m out of here!”

“Well, I did tell you Mom was gonna be pissed, didn’t I? You ran away every night for a week straight, what did you expect her to do? Besides, she’s already still mad because every time she tried to talk to you, you blew her off and ran.”

“I guess that was kind of selfish of me… I just thought that she would suffer more in the long run if I was around,” Gerard replied forlornly, twirling a pencil in his fingers. “I mean, those guys nearly killed her trying to get to me…”

“Seriously, Gerard, stop blaming yourself for that… that was their fault, not yours. They’re just a bunch of idiots who think they’re big shots just because they’re popular.”

Gerard did not respond to his brother, he simply stared up at the ceiling and sighed. Once again, he knew on some level that his brother was absolutely right. He was sure that Devon and his gang were fueled solely by their popularity and the other students’ hero worship of them. They were the school’s football stars, and if it weren’t for that, they would more than likely fall apart at the seams. Gerard didn’t have their popularity, but he had his family, most particularly his little brother, to lean on if things got too hard.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t made it hurt any less when they’d dragged him into the locker room that one day after gym class and beaten him with balled-up socks stuffed into each other. It didn’t give him back that two weeks he’d had to spend at home with his ankle broken because he’d been pushed down the stairs. It didn’t mend the emotional scars he’d gotten from the names he’d been called over the years. Moreover, it didn’t change the fact that he was constantly burdening his little brother with his problems. He, Gerard, the older brother, should be the one to shoulder Mikey’s burdens, to talk him through it, to give him strength. Instead, it was always the other way around:it was always Mikey who gave Gerard his strength, Mikey who was the listener when Gerard needed to vent his anger, Mikey who comforted Gerard when he was having a problem…

And it was Mikey who now punted a pillow at Gerard’s face.

“What the fuck…?!”

Gerard rounded on Mikey, who fixed him with a smug little smirk.

“You were moping again, I could tell. Since you hardly ever talk to me anymore, I figure you needed the distraction.”

“Well, do you mind finding some way other than throwing pillows at me?!”

“Make me.” The dare glinted in Mikey’s eyes.

Gerard vaulted into a sitting position on his bed. “Are you challenging me? Really?”

“What do you think?”

Gerard simply glared at his brother. There was a pause, during which Mikey turned his back on Gerard.

This turned out to be a mistake on his part. Gerard dived from the bed and tackled Mikey. Mikey attempted to fight him off.

“Let go, Gerard! No fair!”

“What, too afraid to karate off your older brother?” He wrapped one arm around Mikey’s neck. “Or doesn’t it work on a noogie?” Making a fist with his free hand, he rubbed his knuckles into Mikey’s head as the younger boy continued to struggle.

“Ow… dammit… Gerard… will you cut it out?!”

“Not until you apologize for hitting me with that pillow!” Gerard was determined to assert that he was the older brother, dammit!

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry! Now will you let go?!”

Satisfied, Gerard released Mikey from his grip. Mikey rubbed his head for a moment before turning back to his older brother.

“But I’m not sorry for this!” Mikey took the time to get his revenge and pounced on Gerard.

The two boys were soon tangled on the floor, laughing their heads off. They only stopped when their mother came in and threatened to ground them both for another week if they didn’t stop fighting. Their protests that they were just playing fell on deaf ears, and they were forced to end their impromptu game.

When their mother left the room, Mikey adjusted his glasses and addressed Gerard.

“Why don’t you talk to me anymore, anyway?”

Gerard hesitated. He considered many options in his head: telling Mikey to mind his own business, to not worry about him, he’d be fine, or just stay silent and draw something. He knew that none of these options would be very effective: the first two would either anger Mikey or make him even more concerned, but would not deter him, and he would only be able to stall him with the final two before Mikey continued to press the question.

So instead, he simply decided to tell Mikey the truth.

“Because…” he sighed. “Mikey, you’re my brother. My younger brother. You shouldn’t be worrying about me; I should be worrying about you. I should be protecting you.” He did not add that he was ashamed that his brother often protected him.

Silence. That was strange… Mikey wasn’t answering him. Was he ashamed?

Gerard turned to him. No, he wasn’t ashamed; instead, he was staring rather curtly.

“I don’t get you, Gerard. We’re family. Families are supposed to support each other.”

“Not when one side is doing all the work, and especially not the younger end!”

“You think you’re…?! You really don’t understand, do you, Gerard?”

“Understand what?”

In answer, Mikey walked to their shared closet and opened the door. He reached up to the top shelf and pulled down one of his medals. He took Gerard’s hand and laid the medal on his palm. Gerard stared at it, confused. It was Mikey’s first Championship medal.

“Why are you giving me this?”

“Gerard, do you know why I joined the MMA Club?”

“Because you like karate? It’s all you ever talked about, since you were a kid.” He didn’t understand where his little brother was going with this.

“Yeah… but that’s not all of it. I joined the club because it’s what you would have done.”

“Huh?” Gerard didn’t even like karate; he took some free classes in his neighborhood once, and it was way too much work and too much sweat. And drawing with even a miniscule amount of sweat on his hands was a pain.

“You remember that one time you took those advanced art classes?”

“Yeah…”

“I remember the day before you registered, you found the ad in the paper. You looked really interested, but you threw the paper aside. You were muttering about how you sucked at drawing and you didn’t want anybody laughing at you.

“About two days later, you came home with an acceptance letter from the place giving the classes. I asked you, what made you change your mind? You didn’t want to do it before. You know what you said to me?”

Gerard shook his head. He was quite interested to know what made the other boy keep such miniscule details in his head about a day Gerard only remembered his feelings about.

“You said, ‘Because I really like art. I thought about it, and I realized that if I don’t do this now, I might not get the opportunity ever again. Succeed or fail, at least I tried.’ And I remembered that, Gerard. It was the only reason I wrote down my name on that list when MMA Club started. I figured, if you had the strength to do what you wanted without worrying about what other people thought of you, then I could do the same thing.” He tapped the medal still resting in Gerard’s palm. “I would never have gotten that if it wasn’t for you. It’s as much your medal as it is mine.”

Gerard was speechless. Mikey had never told him any of this before. His mouth opened and closed several times, trying to release an appropriate response, before he finally muttered, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Just… please don’t ever let them get to you like that again. Don’t ever think that you’re not strong, because you are. You’re the strongest person I know. Don’t ever let anybody take that from you.” Seemingly to emphasize the point, Mikey then hugged Gerard.

Gerard put his arms tentatively around his brother in return. Mikey had never told him any of that before. He wasn’t entirely sure how he should feel about it… but it had made him smile, if only a little. Amidst all his insecurities, he was glad to know that Mikey cared about him, whatever he might have been thinking.


In the car the next week, Gerard and Mikey sat in the backseat of their mother’s car as she drove them both to school. Gerard commenced with his usual morning time ritual: crossing his fingers and hoping against hope that nobody spoke to him or even looked at him for the whole school day. Except Mikey. Mikey was just fine.

It seemed that he had very nearly gotten his wish, too. No one spoke a word to him in Chemistry, leaving him free to try to do his work in peace. It was the same with Geometry and English. At lunchtime, Gerard allowed Mikey to briefly spend time with him before releasing him to go and sit with his friends.

He soon found, however, that it was all too good to last.

He was on his way to his locker to get his books for History when he heard a familiar voice nearby.

“Go away, Devon. I’m not in the mood.”

Gerard spun around: about four feet away from him was his brother Mikey, Devon and his friends standing over him.

“Come on, kid, don’t be like that. We just want to talk.” He spun Mikey around to face him, and Mikey shrugged him off. Gerard balled his hands into fists. “How come every time we try to talk to your brother and have some fun, you show up and ruin our good time?”

“Obviously you people have a completely different definition of ‘good time’ than we do on this planet.” Mikey’s words shot from his mouth like daggers. “You see, the rest of us don’t consider violently slamming a person into a wall neither friendly nor fun.”

“Stop being such a wet blanket, we’re just fucking with him. I’m sure he knows that already.”

“Yes, I’m sure Gerard and the bruises on his back all know that you’re ‘just playing’ when you try to damn near end his life on a regular basis.” He shoved Devon out of the way and started to leave. “I have class, so if you please--” He didn’t get very far before Devon grabbed his arm out of nowhere and threw him against the lockers.

That was enough to set Gerard off. He stormed swiftly over to the group, closing the distance between them, and shouted, “Leave him alone!”

Devon spun around, a wicked grim forming on his face when he spotted Gerard. “Well, speak of the devil… Gerard Gay.”

He was too angry to allow the nickname to disturb him this time. He raised his fists, prepared for whatever might happen... it was about time he started defending his brother.

“Leave Mikey out of this. You got a problem with me, you take it up with me.”

The bullies advanced on him; Gerard backed up, his fists still high. “We don’t have a problem with you, Gerard.” Devon reached for him; Gerard swung and missed, and Devon soon had him pinned hard against the lockers. “If you stopped acting so paranoid, you’d see we’re not bad guys. You just keep attacking us…” He smashed his fist into Gerard’s stomach… “We have to defend ourselves, you know.”

Devon’s back suddenly arched, and he dropped Gerard. Gerard held his stomach and looked up: judging from Mikey’s current posture, he had delivered a roundhouse kick to Devon’s back to make him let go of Gerard.

“’Less the rest of you want twice what he got, I suggest you clear out of here now.” Not needing to be told twice, they did as they were told, dragging Devon with him. Mikey ran over to tend to his brother.

“Gerard! Gerard, are you all right?”

Gerard coughed, but nodded. “Yeah… I’m fine, I think I can get up by my—MIKEY! LOOK OUT!”

Mikey spun around, but too late: two members of Devon’s gang slammed their backpacks into Mikey. He threw up his hands to protect himself, but the contents of their bags were heavy; he was thrown to the floor, and the boys continued their beating.

“Mikey!” Gerard rose to defend his brother, but he was still too weak from the punch. One of the boys shoved him out of the way, toppling him over, and they continued to pummel Mikey.

When they had gotten tired of what they were doing, they slung their bags over their shoulders and left. “That’s what you get for fucking with our friend.”

Gerard crawled over to Mikey, who was slowly pushing himself into a kneeling position. “Mikey… are you all right? Mikey…”

“I’m fine, Gerard. Fine.” He managed to stand up, hissing from the pain of the beating.

“I’m so sorry, Mikey, I’m sorry,” Gerard apologized. “I didn’t mean to get you hurt, I—“

“Don’t worry about it, Gerard. Just don’t.” He swayed on the spot, but managed to stay standing.

Gerard began shuffling his way to the nearest payphone. “I’m calling Mom. You need to go home.”

“Gerard, no, I’ll be fine. You’re the one who needs to—“

“Don’t fight me, Mikey. Please.” Gerard continued to shuffle. “I’m calling Mom.”


They were both in their beds that entire night, as well as the day after. Gerard had tried to convince his mother not to pick him up from school and to only take Mikey, but she wasn’t having any of it; she had forced them both into the car and driven them home, treating their wounds and sending them immediately to their room as soon as they were inside.

Neither one spoke much, as Mikey was too bruised and Gerard too preoccupied. As Mikey drifted off to sleep, Gerard’s mind continued to race, his thoughts ever darkening.

This was the last straw for him. They had hurt him before, and he had never liked it, ever, but now they had attacked his family. First his mother and now Mikey… all because they had some vendetta against him for a crime he didn’t commit, didn’t even know the charges.

Mikey is hurt. They beat him. They could have killed him. All because of me… His eyes began to well up once again. Until a new thought overtook his mind.

No. Because of them.

He had done nothing to make them attack Mikey. They had only done so to hurt Gerard. No other reason. They had no right to attack him. They were nothing but pure evil. And they had to be stopped.

And Gerard knew… Gerard knew from the moment they had started bullying him… Gerard knew somehow that one day, he would be the one to stop them.
That time was now.


Gerard’s mother wouldn’t let the boys out of their room until she was absolutely sure they were better. Even when Mikey insisted that he was fine and could walk again, even demonstrating, she kept him in bed lest he were to relapse. So it was nearly a week before Mikey returned to school.

That day, Gerard pretended to be sick. When his mother suggested cancelling her day out with his father, Gerard managed to convince her otherwise, telling her that he would be safe in the house alone and that she didn’t need to worry about him. He wouldn’t be lonely, he knew where all of the medicine was and not to overdose, and that Mikey would be home soon, in any event.

When he had managed to thoroughly convince her that he would be just fine, he waited until she and her husband were well away from the block before he got out of bed.

It was time to enact his plan.


The window of the brothers’ room was directly above the roof of the storage shed. Hence, he was able to safely climb out of the window while everyone else was asleep, without hurting himself. He had then climbed down the small building and allowed himself to safely fall to the ground. His shoulder bag clinked when he landed, which caused him to pause for a few moments in case anybody in the house woke up. When he heard no movement, he carefully rose from his crouched position and slowly walked away from the house.

He had chosen to walk rather than take the bus or drive or even bike, as he wanted there to be as little evidence to trace him back to his home as possible. He wasn’t going to let his family suffer because of him again. Not anymore.

It took him about an hour and a half to walk over to Devon’s house. He knelt down to a crouched position and looked in the window.

There, on the living room couch, sat his nemesis. Wrapped up in his girlfriend, too busy eating her face to pay any amount of attention to the world around him. He probably wouldn’t even notice if Gerard got up right now and started making faces at him through the window.

Perfect.

Gerard reached into his shoulder bag, pulling out a glass bottle full of liquid, a white rag stuffed into the mouth. Taking a lighter out of his pocket, he set the rag ablaze, backed up until he hit the curb, and ran back forward slightly, using his velocity to hurl the bottle through the window.

Glass smashed. The bottle burst into flames. Devon looked up, the sound and sudden light shocking him. Seeing this, Gerard lit another Molotov and threw it directly at Devon and his girlfriend.

Screams. The flames grew higher and higher. Gerard threw one more bomb, to make sure the two could not escape. He had nothing against the girl—he didn’t even really know her—but unfortunately, she had stepped into a war zone. He was determined to get back at Devon. She had become a casualty of war.

Gerard backed up, hiding in a cluster of bushes across the street. He watched as the flames danced before his eyes, engulfing everything in its path, swallowing whole his enemy’s home… as well as his enemy.

A feeling swelled up in his chest as he watched. What was it? Satisfaction? Accomplishment?

Power.

Vengeance.

Chaos.

He knew what he had to do. He had to continue his mission. Everyone in Devon’s gang, everyone who ever hung out with him, would pay.

Everyone would pay…


He stood on the roof of a high-rise building in the city. He was almost surprised that no one had caught him yet. It was almost eleven-thirty at night. He had burned down four more houses ever since he had paid Devon a visit. Yet, no one had caught on yet.

They would now. They would know what happened. They would know why. He would make sure of that.

He looked in his shoulder bag, and was pleasantly surprised to see that he still had two Molotov cocktails left. He had carefully planned the final four bombings so that he would not run out before he got here, but he had expected to only have one. Joining them was the can of lighter fluid he had stolen from a shed in one of the houses.

He stared back down at the city below. His old haunt. The place where he would go to hide from Devon’s gang and just be alone.

He hated it now.

He knew that there were more people just like his old bully in this city. They were all like him, in fact. Tormenting each other. Leaving each other to suffer. Just because they may have been a little different from them.

I’ll make you all see what you did… I’ll make you understand…

“I’ll send every one of you to Hell!”

Gerard reared back and hurled one of his cocktails at a building across the street. As the flames climbed up the building, from the bottom up, people scrambled around, searching for the source of the object.

“What’s happening?!”

“Where did that come from?!”

“Up there… some kid on the roof!”

Gerard didn’t want the flames to die down. He yanked one of the cans of lighter fluid from his backpack and flung it down into the flames, fueling them and increasing their size. He repeated the process, throwing his last cocktail at another building, and the other can of fluid along with it.

Both buildings were soon fully ablaze, the flames reaching other, nearby buildings and setting them alight as well. A restaurant which caught the flames soon exploded from the cooking grease that they used having lit on fire.

Gerard watched in maniacal delight as the blaze continued, adding carnage to its wake as the people below ran for cover, trampled each other, became engulfed in fire themselves.

A chuckle sounded from the boy’s lips. It grew higher and higher, and more and more manic each time. Soon it sounded over the entire city, his wide eyes capturing the light from the ongoing commotion below…


It was a dream.

It was all a dream.

We find the defendant guilty as charged...

Guilty?

Why am I guilty?

For the bombings of five homes and two commercial buildings…

I burned down a building?

No! You won’t lock up my brother!

Mom locks me up all the time, Mikey.

It’s a consequence of getting beaten up all the time…

You know how often I come home with bruises and have to stay home...

He’s not insane! You can’t do this!

Insane?

I’m insane?

I don’t know… maybe… I need to get out of my room and get some air…

Where did we go wrong? How could we not have noticed?

I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry…

How could our son have become a murderer? What have I done?

You didn’t do anything, Mom.

I’m not a murderer.

Gerard… how could you?

I’m sorry, Mom.

You didn’t do anything.

They made me this way.

It was their fault…


Am I in my bed?

Where am I?

It's so soft...

Notes