Tonight. I have to go tonight.

I can’t risk the monsters again.

“This is insane…” I mumble to myself, the irony ringing in my ears.

The night is dark; shadows of old store fronts loom above me, nothingness reflecting off the glass. The windows to everything are dark and strange people stand on street corners, the only lights to make them out being the orange dot of a lit cigarette or the blue glow of a cell phone. Street lamps cast oceans of dim yellow periodically across the sidewalk or the blank road and I dash for salvation, standing under each one for a long moment before sprinting to the next. The November chill is cold, snaking up under my jacket, drying the blood on my arms until I can’t feel it anymore. My fingers grow numb as I walk.

It takes me nearly half an hour to reach the house. There aren’t any streetlights outside.

I stand in the pitch black, staring up at the tall crooked building, the trees around it rocking in the wind, bare branches waving about, mocking me. I can almost feel the cold floorboards against my feet as I stand there, unarmed and virtually helpless.

There’s a flicker in the upstairs window, as if someone had shined a flashlight against the glass, but only for a moment and then it’s gone.

I rub my eyes.

And then it happens again. My stomach twists up and I take a step back.

Someone’s inside the house. I can’t go in there. No way am I risking getting killed by a psycho murderer. If that’s even him up there.

Frank’s supposed to be in jail, dipshit.

But I can’t shake the notion. He’s up there, I can feel it.

I swallow, clenching my hands at my sides, racking up the nerve to walk up the sidewalk because I can’t just stand there and do nothing. Going home isn’t an option either, the little girls are there. I can run, but I can’t hide. I blink back my fears, stepping across the porch.

The door is open, slightly ajar. I only have to press a hand against the hardwood before it’s falling in on itself with a long squeal, the dark hallway expanding in front of me. I hold my breath as I step inside.

The room is cold, sparking goose bumps up and down my arms, the shadows grabbing at my jacket as the door swings shut behind me. The house is as silent as it had been yesterday, nothing but creaky sighs as it settles under my weight.

Thump.

I cringe, looking up at the ceiling, the cracked drywall staring down at me. My hands are shaking as I slowly crouch down, trying to ignore the sounds coming from upstairs. I fumble around for the sticky note as quietly as I possibly can, fingers numb from the cold. My hands curl around the blue crumpled paper and I swipe it from the floor, squinting to read it over quickly.

But it’s not right.

The words that had originally been written on the note are crossed out, new letters scribbled below them in bulky loops.

You’re late.

I stare at it, my hands shaking.

He’s up there. He is. I know he is. Who else could it be? Or, at least, the person giving out the notes is. Frank or no Frank, I still don’t want to go upstairs.

And I don’t have to.

Instead, luck gives me a good kick in the ass, the occupant of the second floor thumping down the staircase. Heavy boots. Heavy boots.

I scramble to my feet, shoving the note into my pocket, skidding deeper into the shadows, and resting flat against a wall. Darkness seems to be my best friend at the moment, as ironic as it is. Turning my head, I watch the staircase in horror, the footsteps getting louder and louder, the flashlight swooping across the hardwood. My chest constricts as I hold my breath.

A shadow appears in the doorway, hidden behind the stream of the light and I bite my lip, hard enough to break skin, hoping he doesn’t see me.

“Woah- ah!” Thud. Like a person hitting the floor. And the flashlight falls along with the shadow, casting eerie light across the gross flower wallpaper.

It rolls and rolls with a heavy metallic sound, like a bowling ball, the light chasing me as I try to dodge its path, but it’s no use and the glow catches the edges of my sneakers.

The flashlight comes to a stop, shining hard light on the dirty wall.

Silence.

“Who’s there?” Says a voice. A familiar one that I can’t quite place.

I swallow, shaking too hard to function correctly.

There’s a rustle as the silent other pulls to their feet. I can make out the silhouette, their back bending as they reach for the flashlight. I squeeze my eyes shut as the light is raised, spinning around in the dark until it hits my chest and face.

“Gerard?”

I blink, raising a hand to shield my eyes from the blinding light.

“What’re you doing here?” The other sputters, the light shimmering as if the person who’s holding it is shaking just as bad as I am.

I stand there for a moment like a deer in headlights until common sense hits me like a bulldozer and I’m tripping over my own feet just to get out of there. The faceless shouts, dropping the light and fumbling in the dark to grab me.

“Gerard, wait! I need to talk to you!” Suddenly they’re jumping in front of me, too late for me to stop or scramble around them and we ram straight into each other. My head hits the ground hard as the two of us tumble onto the floorboards.

“Get away from me!” I yell, kicking at them as they hold my arm, trying to keep me on the floor so I won’t escape.

“Gerard, stop it! It’s me! It’s me! Calm the fuck down!”

The nameless grabs for the flashlight as they speak, swinging it to shine it on themselves.

Oh.

“Ray?! What-” I shake my head, pulling my arm away from him. “What’s going on? How are you-… what are you even doing here?”

“I was uh… I was… doing… things…” He says giving me a sheepish smile. His curly hair bounces as he talks.

“No shit,” I say breathlessly, rubbing at my arm. “You scared the living hell outta me!”

“Sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” He says quickly, putting his hands up in surrender.

I sigh. “It’s fine, it’s fine… just… why are you-“

A giggle twinkles in my ear.

My stomach drops, goose bumps popping up on my skin.

“Why am I what?” Ray asks, frowning.

I turn my head to look into the darkness, my eyes adjusting enough to see the outline of the flowers on the wallpaper. Scrtch Scrtch Scrtch.

I swallow.

“What? What is it?” Ray asks, anxiously leaning toward me, trying to make out what it is I’m looking at.

I’m not looking at anything, only darkness, but words ring in my head. Loud words.

“Frank Iero, we have you surrounded. Come out with your hands where we can see them.”

My ears tingle.

“Gerard? Are you… are you okay?” But Ray’s voice is drowned out by the constant buzz of white noise in my ear, like when a television can’t get signal.

“Don’t you fucking cry. I will poke your eyes out and the only thing coming from your tear ducts will be blood.”

“Monsters in the house, I know. You’ve told me about a million times.”

“Stop it,” I groan, rubbing at my temples insistently.

“It’s okay, I ain’t gonna bite ya.”

"Gerard, do you know what Schizophrenia is?"

“Slit your wrists, sweetheart. Show me your life line!”

And I’ve heard it all before. They’re memories. Words ghosting out of my subconscious and playing like old mix tapes in my ears.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

“I didn’t even know we had sticky notes.”

They sound like they’re floating across this very room; someone whispering to me in the dark. Lots of someones.

I want to cry. It hurts.

“Have a fantastic night in the dark, darling.”

“Get out of my head! Get out!” And I’m yelling; it’s me who’s yelling. I can barely tell the difference between my own voices and the ones in my head, all talking at once, the static turning to murmurs turning to whispers and turning to screaming yelling lunatics. I pull at my hair; knock my hands against my head. I just want them out.

I jump at the feeling of skin on skin, a hand on my arm, and then two, as someone pulls me away from the twisting shadows and silent shouts, setting me in their lap. Strong forearms are set around my shoulders, holding me tightly, and never letting go.

“Shhhh…” And it’s a voice above all the rest, a rough calloused hand pressing the hair off my forehead. “Shhh, it’s okay. Everything’s alright.”

And I find myself believing.

“All in good time, Gerard.”

A final whisper and all is quiet.

“Ray?” I muster up the courage to speak, staring off into the dark.

“Hm?”

“Did you hear that, too?”

Quiet.

“No.”

I let out a long, ragged breath. “I want it to stop.”

“Then make it.”

“I can’t do that… not without going upstairs…”

“Why? What’s up there?”

I stare at the dark floor. Nothing’s up there. “Memories,” I mumble with a sigh. Memories and monsters. But I can’t tell him that part.

“What if I come with you?” He asks quietly.

He doesn’t know what he’s getting into. The monsters will get him.

“No. Too dangerous.”

“It’s only memories Gerard. They’re not going to hurt me.”

I blink.

He’s right. They’re memories. They don’t hurt anyone, only the people who lived them, and even then, it isn’t physical pain.

Maybe I shouldn’t be so scared.

“What about… What about Frank?”

“Frank?” He says it like he’s confused.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know about him,” I say irritably, rubbing my face.

“He’s not around anymore…”

“I know! I know, but what if… what if he got out? What if he got away?”

“No… No, he’s never coming back…” Ray muttered, rubbing my back soothingly. “Gerard… Frank is-”

Thump. The two of us looked up at the ceiling. Someone was upstairs. Someone… or something.

And Ray never really got a chance to finish his sentence.