Tell Me I'm A Bad, Bad Man

Today way the day we’d set the plan in motion. Gerard and I spent the last week coming up with plans for what to do. We decided that tonight, I was gonna wreak havoc on my cell. Gerard isn’t going to come to my cell tonight like he usually does; otherwise he would’ve been seen on the cctv. When night eventually comes around, I wait for the night checks.
Baby boy comes around as usual, and winks at me as he locks me in, mouthing ‘I love you’ before walking to the next cell. Nothing was out of the ordinary. If asked, Gerard agreed to say that I seemed ‘agitated’ when he locked me in, but thought none of it. I wait for a good few hours to ensure that everyone is asleep.
The game is afoot.

I stand up and wait in the middle of my cell, and stand right in the centre with my arms dangling behind my side. I tilt my head slightly and smile at the camera. I take a deep breath. Fuck, what has my life become. Screw crazy, this is gonna look fucking demonic…
I calmly walk over to the left wall of my cell, take a deep breath, lean my head back… here we go… and throw it forward into the wall with all the force I can. I feel the blood gushing out of my nose and into my mouth, dribbling off of my chin and onto the floor. It fucking hurts, but I’m pretty sure it’s not broken. Good enough for me. I turn back to the camera and smile again, blood pouring out of my nose. There’s also a fairly large sized gash on my head.
I then proceed to scream with every part of my being; tearing my mattress from the bed and tearing at it with my teeth until it splits open. I rip all of the papers stuck to my walls over the years and throw them around the cell.
I continue to scream as I throw everything in the cell around. By this point I wouldn’t be surprised if half the prison is awake. The kid in the cell opposite me has woken up and is watching me, his hands gripped tight to his cell bars. “Iero, are you okay?” He asks with a look of concern. I just laugh as hard as I can at him and continue my rampage. There’s screams of “Shut the fuck up, I’m trying to sleep!” however, mixed in is the occasional “Iero’s finally lost the plot!” Good.

The blood continues to run down my face however, it’s beginning to slow down. I continue the fit of rage for two hours before passing out on the cell floor amongst the mess.

I wake up in the morning almost having forgotten the plan. Remembering what to do, I crawl on all fours into the far corner of my cell and draw my knees under my chin, wrapping my arms around them tight as I rock back and forth. I cry as much as I can until I’m practically bawling in the corner.

Baby boy comes round to do the morning checks and unlock our doors as usual. He comes to my cell and sees me. He gives me a small smile before regaining composure and running to the heavy doors at the end on the hall, before screaming “I NEED SOME HELP IN HERE! SOMEONE HELP! IERO NEEDS MEDICAL!”

Before I know it, there are about ten officers in the block. They agree to evacuate the other guys from the block and send them to the lunch hall before coming into my cell and getting me out.
They unlock everyone’s cells and line them up before proceeding to march them all to the food court.

“Iero, are you okay? Do you know where you are?” Officer Gates asks in a sincere tone, walking towards me with his hands outstretched in caution.

“I’m in daddy’s room…” I mumble under my breath over and over.

“The others all said he’s been like this all night, apparently passed out at around four am. Sir.” Baby boy says to Gates with an air of concern.
“He’s bleeding. We need to send him to the infirmary.” Gates says before talking into his walkie talkie and calling for them to bring me in. They had to fucking sedate me first! That was never a part of the fucking bargain.

So that’s how the next couple of weeks consisted of me biting nurses, resisting anything, mumbling incoherencies and causing danger to myself at all chances possible before finally, the best fucking thing I had heard in the entire time I’d been at this fucking shithole.

“I think he’s suffering some form of PTSD or some similar issue which is related to his childhood and convictions. It’s my professional opinion that if he gets any worse, we’ll need to send him to Blackgate.”YES!!

Blackgate is this sorta prison for the criminally insane. It’s about sixty miles away. It’s the only place I know which holds people worse than here. But lucky for me, I wasn’t going.

The next day they let me out of the infirmary to see how I would do back in gen pop. I refused all meals. Didn’t eat any meals they gave us in this place. The only way I stopped from completely starving was the fact that baby boy would sneak me food on his nightly rounds. We couldn’t touch each other though, which made this whole thing so painful. I could see him getting more and more desperate each time he came around. I knew how he felt. But we both knew we had to it, and we were so, so ready. We were only able to sneak in the occasional ‘I love you’ when no one was around. It was killing me.

Today I’ve been brought in to talk with Officer Gates. They handcuff me to a chair in an interrogation room at a table sitting across from Gates.
“We’re moving you, Frank. Do you understand? This past month has been dangerous for you and you’re becoming a danger to other inmates. Do you understand?” He asks, speaking to me as if I’m a small child. What a fucking idiot.
“We’re moving you next week. You’ll be transferred in a police high security van with three officers. Then they’ll collect you at Blackgate.”
I just sit there staring at the wall behind him in a complete catatonic state.
They eventually move me back to my cell and baby boy comes to visit me that night.

“So, I’ve been asked to help transfer you to Blackgate…” He says calmly. We’re both pretty adjusted to the way it is now. Gerard was really concerned and apprehensive at first; I had to keep reminding him that I was acting.

“There’s gonna be three other officers with you, baby boy.” I remind him with caution. I know this is hard for him. He’s giving up his life for me.

“I know. Mikey wouldn’t even listen to me, but I think he understands in his own way. He’s sacrificed a lot in his life. I got a gun. I decided I’m not gonna use the police one they give us. I got a revolver. I bought a silencer too. In technical terms, I’m ready.” He says, fumbling with his sleeve, which I’ve come to notice is a thing he does when there’s something on his mind.

“You don’t have to do this.” I remind him.

He glares at me before telling me, “I love you. I’m doing this for love and I’m doing this for you. If this is what needs to happen then so be it.” He shifts in his seat. He’s grown up so much in the year that he’s been here. I still remember the boy that walked in that first day. The boy that I thought would just be easy; something for me to play with. Now I can’t breathe without him. My heart needs him to beat. You almost feel ashamed, that someone could mean that much. That being without them physically hurts. It’s like torture. Or that touching him would be the best high I’ve ever felt. I get drunk off his touch, drown in him completely. He gives everything to me and I do the same in a heartbeat. We’re in this together and I’ll protect him from all of the pain and hurt. I can’t live my life without his hand in mine.

“I love you, y’know that baby boy? I love you more than you can imagine.” I whisper to him, reaching though the bars and intertwining our fingers, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles.
“I love you too, we can do this.” He says, convincing both me and himself.

Notes

Hey beans! This was definitely an odd one to write. Also, Happy Valentines Day! I'm bummed out at home with a bad cold so I hope you guys are doing better than me. Spread love not hate! Love you all!