Gerard pov.




"Ow!"

"Stop that!" I yell. I can feel sharp fingernails digging into my skin and dragging down like a slow torture. It leaves red marks and a tiny trail of blood dribbling down the side of my arm.
I lift up my head and look straight into the dark brown eyes of the person scratching me. It's Charles.

"Gee!" He squeals, and starts to scratch me again.

"Charles, stop." I mumble quietly, rubbing my arm protectively.

"What's wrong?" He teases, intimidating me. "Too weak to even handle a little scratching!" He exclaims and only begins to dig further into my now inflamed skin.

"No..I can handle it!" I say, even though I know I can't. I have to prove I'm not weak to him, I can't let him know I'm weak. He'll...use it against me. Besides, I have enough scars and scratches, I guess a few more won't hurt...too much hopefully.

"Charles...I'm going to go down to eat. You can...uh, stay here." I say nervously, and begin to walk away quickly, hoping he'll let me go so I can get away from him.

"Gee!" He yells and I turn around slowly, a scared to death look on my face. "Why do you need to eat? You're already an overweight pig. If anything, you need to lay off the food a little." He says, laying on his side, with his hand propping up his head. A smirk covers his demented face.

"But..I'm hungry. I haven't eaten in days." I say quietly and my stomach rumbles as I sit back down on the bed. One hand clutches my stomach as it starts to rumble again furiously. Half of my brain actually believes the things Charles is saying. What if he's right? I can't even remember the last thing I ate though, if it's been as long as I think it has, I could die from starvation rather soon. The rational or..less crazy side of my brain tells me that he's wrong, but the other side is still there, believing everything he's saying.

"See, and that's good! Keep that up and maybe you'll drop a few pounds."

I'm pretty sure I'm already severely underweight from starving myself for months.

"I don't think..." I start and am cut off by Charles pinning me down onto the bed. All of my breath is knocked out of me from that one hit. He has a knife in his right fist and is bringing it closer and closer to my forehead with every second. The blade reflects the light shining in from the window and it reflects straight into my eye. I can see the evil look glinting in his eyes and the snarl on his face. I can even feel each of his jagged breaths beating down onto my face. His breath smells of..alcohol and tobacco. Two scents I'm way too familiar with. He opens his mouth to speak and I see his cracked front tooth get closer to me as he spits words out.
"You will listen to me. Got it?" He threatens, and I furiously nod, my eyes closed and gulping a little as he brings the knife further from my face finally and gets off of me. I can feel my breathing return to normal and I sit back up, slowly. How did he even get a knife in the first place?

"Good." He says, and brings a smile to his face, clapping his hands together.

Bipolar much?

"Well Gee, it was nice spending time with you," He tells me, a sickeningly sweet smile on his face. "But I've gotta go..I've got some..things to deal with."

A wave of relief rushes over my body, and it feels like all of the tension is gone.

"Oh, ok. Bye, Charles." I say, trying not to let my immense enthusiasm spread across my face. He seems to buy it, and then swiftly rushes out the door, leaving me alone in the blank room.
I blink twice, and look around every corner of the room, checking under blankets, looking behind medical equipment. Just to make sure he's gone. Sometimes, cheerless likes to deceive me and pretend he leaves the room, only to pop back up behind me few minutes later. I don't do so well with things scaring me.

Once I've looked around every inch of the room, and trust me I've made sure I did that, I can finally start to breathe normally again.

I get up and grab my clothes before putting them all on and stepping out the door, planning to head on down to the cafeteria to grab some food. I still can't recall the last time I ate, all I know is that it's been a while. My stomach grumbles as the thoughts cross my mind reminding me why I'm walking out the door anyways.

As I'm talking steps down clear white checkered floors, I get that feeling. Y'know the feeling where you can just feel that you're being watched? Like somebody's eyes are burning in the back of your head staring you down from the back, watching your every move.

I quickly look to my right. No one. Its just a wall with a window and a door leading to another room. Hm. I then whip my head to the left. It's just a grey-bearded janitor wheeling his little cart with a mop hanging out. I can hear the swish of the dirty water that sloshes around in the yellow container. Gross. He gives me a strange look, then shakes his head before wheeling his cart along again the pristine floors.

I continue my walk down the hallway, but I still have that feeling. It's like I know someone else is there, but I don't think it's the janitor. Maybe it's a ghost. Maybe there's spirits in this very room, examining what I do and planning a way to make me be like them, a spirit. That's a scary thought, I don't want to be spirit. I don't want to die, well at least not right now. I'm in a good mood for once, I don't want anyone to bring that down.

I decide I've had enough of that feeling and decide to just look behind me one more time just in case. I turn my head around quickly and I see..Frank?

"Frank?" I ask.

He gives me a look with wide eyes, and his face is a slight pink. It's the look you get when you've been caught in the act.

"Are you..following me?" I ask, and his face turns a little pinker.

"N-no." He manages to stutter out. "I just wanted to get some food." He tries to explain, but still stutters out.

"Um ok.." I say, not believing him for one second. I have a smirk placed on my lips and he rolls his eyes.

"You sure?" I ask, my smirk growing a little wider.

"Yes!" He exclaims, walking up to me and shoving me playfully to the side.

"Well since you're going there, and I'm going there too, would you do the honor of walking me to the cafeteria?" I say in a formal voice, extending my arm out for him to grab, and Frank bursts out into laughter.
"Why yes, sir." He says in the same tone of voice I used and grabs my arm and we walk down the hallway arm in arm.

Notes

Ok I'm really sorry for the short chapter I've been really busy lately and I feel so bad I haven't updated! Next chapter will be like a continuation of this chapter though so almost like a part 2 thing.

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