Gerard Way likes watching the new boy in the psychiatric ward.
“No don’t listen to her, you’ll get caught.”
Frank Iero dropped his father’s car keys back to their usual spot on the kitchen unit and turned to leave the room, but he had barely taken two steps before he panicked and grabbed them again.
“You have to do it. Kill them before they can kill you.”
“Go. What are you waiting for?!”
Frank clamped his hands over his ears, trying in vain to block the voices out.
Frank nodded, quietly unlocking the back door and slipping out, not bothering to lock it again as he left. He jumped into the car, knowing full well that his dad would end him if he found out. Frank didn’t care though, and he stuck the key into the ignition the minute he’d slammed the door shut. He pulled the car out of the driveway and drove up the street, not terribly concerned with the poor standard of his driving. His dad had only given him one driving lesson so far, and Frank wasn’t too skilled behind the wheel. He didn’t let this faze him though, as he headed towards the town centre.
Frank jammed his foot down on the accelerator, the needle on the speedometer spinning wildly.
“Spare no one.”
“I won’t,” Frank mumbled, dashing round a corner. He grinned wildly when he saw just how many people were still wandering around in a drunken Saturday night daze.
“Kill them all. They know all about you Frank. Everyone knows about you.”
Frank jerked the steering wheel, and barely had the chance to blink before the car crashed straight into the side of a building, sending several pedestrians flying in the process.
Frank felt himself get thrown through the windscreen and into the wall, heard passersby scream and the faint wail of sirens in the distance.
The last thing he was aware of before he fainted, however, was the voice that had grown oh so familiar.
“You failed, Frank. You’re just a fucking waste of space.”
Gerard Way stared down at the cowering form of his mother, his eyes not focussing completely, blurred from alcohol intoxication. His hand trembled slightly, the kitchen knife he was pointing at his mum flashing in the artificial light of the living room.
“Gerard, sweetie, please don’t do this!”
Gerard didn’t say anything and Donna’s eyes filled with tears as she watched her son lift the knife and look at his reflection in the blade. He bit his lip, as if he was just realizing what he’d become. His eyes flashed down at his mum, at the tears rolling down her cheeks, and Donna’s heart leaped in the hope that Gerard’d drop the knife and go back to being a normal teenager, as opposed to the lunatic he’d become.
Gerard sighed, and looked back down at his mum.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, stepping towards her, and he crouched down so they were eye level. He didn’t break eye contact as he pressed the blade gently on her chest, directly above her heart.
Donna’s eyes widened, and flashed up to somewhere behind her son. The latter furrowed his eyebrows, and glanced round to see what she was looking at, just in time to see his father wrapping his arms around his waist and hoisting him into the air. The knife slipped from Gerard’s hand, falling onto the carpet with a dull thud.
Gerard struggled against his dad’s strong arms, kicking blindly in all directions in an attempt to finish what he’d started, but to no avail.
“Honey, call the police.”
“Donald...” Donna whimpered, “He’s our son... We can’t—”
“Donna, just do it.”
And so she did, dialling 911 with shaking hands and telling the operator about how her crazed son had tried to murder her, and the moment she hung up she burst into the tears she’d been holding onto ever since Gerard had staggered home three hours after his curfew, completely paralytic and clutching a large shiny knife.
Donald’s tight hold on Gerard had not slipped, and eventually Gerard tired and stopped struggling, going limp in his dad’s arms. He mumbled something to himself about how he would kill them all one day.
When the doorbell rang, Donna stood up and shakily answered, letting several police officers in. As soon as Gerard saw them he began screaming and struggling again, kicking at least two of them as his dad carefully handed him over to them. It took three cops to restrain him in the end, one holding each of his arms and one holding his legs, as another officer cuffed him.
As they carried Gerard, still screaming, out to the police car, another officer spoke to Donna and Donald.
“This is the third time we’ve had to restrain Gerard; we’re going to have to take serious action this time, I’m afraid.”
“You mean you’re going to lock him up in juvie?” Donald asked.
“No,” the police officer shook his head, “As you are aware, Gerard was diagnosed with sociopathy a few months ago? I’m afraid we’re going to have to put him into the youth psychiatric ward as an in-patient. It will be up to a councillor to decide when he can leave. The hospital should phone you when Gerard gets there.”
As the officer turned to leave, Donna broke down in tears again, and Donald took her hand and squeezed it.
“Hey, don’t worry honey. They’re going to fix our Gerard up again; he’ll be back to us in no time.”
“That’s just it, Donald, it’s been so long since we had our Gerard, I don’t know if we’ll ever have him back at all.”
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