Anyone can be called a monster, yet so few have proved themselves worthy of that name. Gerard was called a monster, and as he looked down to his bloody hands, he knew he was one. The blood that corrupted the strip club's walls seemed like a work of modern art. The rotten scene of ripped flesh that laid out on the floor, were a key piece of evidence of Gerard's mishap. He stood still in the middle of a bloody scene, looking down to his hands that created the art. Many bodies were ripped apart, bitten, eaten, and even sexually violated. Gerard settled on his knees, and cried out. He screamed out as his eyes targeted his hands which dripped blood onto the soft carpet beneath him.

Most would call this a breakdown, Gerard called it a release. A release of anger, sadness, and the release of a crooked mind. Gerard let out a final cry before shedding his tears. Gerard could be called a monster but whether or not, he still had the capability to feel what humans felt.

---

"Have you heard anything from Lindsey?" Patrick asked, digging his hand inside the pizza box, "Anything at all?" He snatched a slice of pizza before bringing it up to his lips.

Davy shook his head, staring at the greasy slice on his plate, "No. Not any calls." Davy looked away from the slice, "I can hear a hitch hiker not far from here .. and I need to eat."

Patrick paused, "What exactly do you guys eat anyway? The blood or the skin?"

"Either one makes me full." Davy stood up from his chair and walked toward the front door, "If Lindsey does call, or Frey, or whoever, don't tell them where we are. Someone's mouth might slip and tell Gerard. We wouldn't want that now, would we?" He grinned before exiting into the cold weather.

Patrick set his pizza down on a paper plate before staring at the home phone on the desk, located in the living room. His hopeful eyes stared at it, wondering when anyone would call .. and by anyone, he meant Lindsey.

---

Gerard's head was hazy in the night as he approached the front door of the house. He paused before hearing a soft mumble. The cold air pushed against his body as he glared at a lighted room at the side of the house. It was Frank's room. He peered in from the open window, not to be noticed. Gerard's bright hazel eyes grew dark when he noticed Frank's body was huddled into a blanket up to his chin, and he was crying softly. Gerard withdrew his head and pushed his body against the side of the house, "I'm such an idiot." He slowly moved his hands up to his face, noticing the stained blood. "I don't know if I can be who you want me to be." A tear rolled down from his eye as Frank's soft cries were heard in the background.

Gerard moved forward to the front of the house and sat on a patch of dried up grass. He stared up at the moon, "I need help."

"What you need is your memory back," A voice said from behind him.

Gerard got on his feet and stared at the vague outline of a male body. He peered, "Who are you?"

"Well, technically, I'm not anyone. I'm basically a soul .. a mixture of some. But you can think of me as your .. conscience."

Gerard stared at the figure, "Conscience?"

"Yes, a conscience."

"Where .. where did you come from?"

"That's a long story .. " The dark figure replied.

Gerard paused, "Um, okay but .. what's your name?"

The figure paused briefly. It hovered close to Gerard and rested a cloudy black hand on his shoulder. Gerard stared at his smokey, undescriptive black face. There was no features at all. No mouth, no nose, no eyes. It was just an outline of a man but with no characteristics of a man. The figure's voice echoed, "You can call me Brendon."

Notes

All will be explained in the next chapter .. xo