"What the fuck do you want me to do?!" I folded my arms. She stared at me for a long moment before speaking. "Be his friend."
“Frank, we have no rooms available.” She argued, her voice thick with exasperation.
“Transfer him!” I practically screamed in her face.
She shook her head. “I can’t do that. He has to be here.”
“Fine.” I groaned. “Put him in Solitary Confinement! Or with someone else. I don't fucking care. I JUST WANT HIM AWAY FROM ME!” She stared at me and I swear it looked like she was going to cry. Maybe I had raised my voice a little too loud? Oh, well. – she had to understand why I was angry.
“Frank, please.” Her voice was soft and shaky. Had I actually made her cry? What the fuck? “He has to stay with you. There are no other options. He won’t hurt you, I promise.” She stared at me for a long moment and I stared back.
Was she serious? He was a murderer, he had even ‘said’ so himself. He killed his family and he looked like he didn’t care. And another thing; instead of being in jail, he was here in an asylum – I still hate that word – which means that not only is he dangerous, and I mean really fucking dangerous, but he’s also insane. And he’s my roommate. What the fucking hell is wrong with this world? “I want him out!” I growled, trying to get my point across.
“Frank, please. Just give him a chance.” Hart stared at me her face sincere and pained.
“What the fuck do you want me to do?” I crossed my arms over my chest and keept my glare on her.
She stared at me for a long period of time and the room was silent. I was pissed and I began tapping my foot, impatiently waiting for her reply. She leaned forward until she was “Be his friend.”
Are you fucking serious?
Gerard’s Point Of View.
I had only been in the asylum for a day and already my new roommate was afraid of me. I didn’t want him to be afraid of me; I wanted him to like me and be my friend. I’ve never had a friend before. But I guess it was understandable, because I had told him my secret. Normally, I wouldn’t do that – I was too afraid to how people would react, but for some reason I felt comfortable telling; Damn it. What was his name again? I think it’s ‘Frank’. Frank’s a nice name. It’s plain and original and you can’t mess it up.
People mess my name up all the time. They call me ‘Jared’ and it makes me angry. If my name was ‘Jared’ I wouldn’t mind people calling me that, but it’s not. It’s Gerard, so that’s what I prefer to be called. My brother used to call me ‘Gee’ when he was little, because he couldn’t seem to pronounce ‘Gerard’ right. I wondered if he had been able to get older, if he would have ever called me ‘Gerard’. But I would never know, because I had robbed him of that privilege.
I had murdered my little brother. I remember everything. How he screamed and cried. The blood was everywhere; all over his body and all over my hands. It’s still all over my hands. Everything I touch is soon covered in blood. I don’t know why. I think it’s God’s way of punishing me for what I did. It’s alright though, because I deserved to be punished. I’m a horrible person.
My brother’s name was Mikey. He was only ten when I killed him. Mom and Dad were first, and then I saved Mikey for last. I remember when the cops came, and the ambulance, and that lady; the one who works here. Deanna. She was nice, but she pulled me away from Mikey. I think she was afraid I’d hurt him even more. But he was already dead, wasn’t he? You can’t hurt someone who’s dead. At least, I don’t think so. I was able to take the blanket though. The one I had wrapped him in. The Scooby Doo blanket that Mom had gotten for him when he was six. It was green with all the Scooby Doo characters on it, and he loved it. He slept with it every night, and now I did. It felt like I was sleeping with Mikey, just like the old days.
I went to the first mental hospital when I was thirteen, right after I killed my family. I thought they would put me in jail but they didn’t, but after only a couple weeks in that hospital, it was called the Lennox House, I wanted to go to jail. I had to be in Solitary Confinement, where they lock you up in a plain white room. You have someone come in and leave a tray of food for you every five hours and sometimes they inject you with a large needle. I hate needles, I never liked them; and staying in the Lennox House made me fear them even more. All they did was 'experiment' to find out what was 'really wrong with me'. I was in there for five years.
The third year I was there, I was able to have a 'normal' room of my own. With an actual bed and bathroom. I didn't have a roommate though. They didn’t trust me to be in there with anyone else; that woman, Deanna, used to come visit me almost every day. Whenever I asked her why she simply smiled and said she was ‘interested’ in my case and that she’d ‘always be there for me’. I didn’t trust adults. I didn’t like them. All they wanted to do was experiment on me and mess with my head. They still do. They always will. I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. After they mess with your head, they put things inside. So they always know what you're thinking and where you are and what you say. That's why I won't speak to anyone. They'll know where I am. They'll find me and experiment all over again.
I did like Deanna though. She was always nice. And she always yelled at the doctors when they tried to experiment on me. She didn’t like it either. Another reason I liked her.
She was the one who took me away from the Lennox House and brought me here. What was this place called again? Mountain View. What a funny name. There are no mountains in Jersey, so why would they call it Mountain View? She would always tell me that what happened wasn’t my fault. Another thing I hated about adults – they lied to me. It was my fault. She said I didn’t kill my family. I did. I killed Dad. Then Mom. Then Mikey. I killed them all. How dare she try and convince me that it wasn’t my fault.
She said they wouldn’t take me to jail. But I know the cops want to. They were always hanging around and asking me questions when I was in the Lennox House. They didn’t like the answers I gave them. They thought I was lying. They didn’t like me. Nobody likes me. Deanna said the ‘law’ wouldn’t dare put me in jail because I’m ‘special’. That means I’m insane. She swears that’s not what it means, but I know. I’m crazy. And I’m a fugitive. An awful person. A murderer. That’s why they sent me to Mountain View. The Lennox House was just a 'mental hospital'. They sent almost anyone there. I was only there because it was like they didn't know where else to put me. Everywhere else was full. When I first arrived here I knew why they had sent me to this place. The sign on the front explained it all;
Mountain View Hospital for the Criminally Insane.
Author's Note- Tell me what you think? x