FicWad

Gerard's point of view

When I woke up the next morning, my entire body was sore, I felt like I had been run over by a car. Though, now that I think about it, I had been run over by a car. I suppose that makes sense, then. I
couldn't move one of my arms, which was severely frustrating to me, and a searing pain erupted in my ribcage whenever I moved. I couldn't remember specifically what my injuries were, I guess I was still
too spaced out when Frank told me. Frank. Frankie. Where was he? I looked around, he wasn't holding me against his chest like he was last night, nor was he sitting in one of the hard plastic hospital chairs
by my bedside. I frowned, not knowing why I was so distraught that he wasn't here; I mean, I had just met him last night, and why should he be here? I was just some kid that he had hit with his car, of
course he didn't really care. He had his own life to get back to. Probably amazing parents and an amazing house and an amazing girlfriend. Why would he spend his time with me? As I sat asking myself that
question, I heard a voice in the hallway through the open door. I recognized it as Frank's voice.

"C'mon Mom, you have to let him stay with us."
Pause.
"Because! He's just been hit by a car and his parents don't even care enough to come visit him or make sure he's okay!"
Pause.
"No, it's not a freaking charity case Mom!"
Pause.
"I don't care what you say, he's my friend and he's coming to stay at our house whether you like it or not."
Friend? I grinned.
"Yeah, he can stay in my room and everything. I'll even clean up after him when he messes on the rug."
I laughed silently. I could tell he was rolling his eyes.
"Fine. Yes. Okay, bye."

I heard soft footsteps on the tile, getting louder and louder. I closed my eyes and pretended I was alseep. It was a bit of an awkward conversation to overhear, in my opinion. Frank walked into the room and
sat next to my bed.

"I know you're not asleep," he told me, and I peeked one eye open.
"And you would know that...how?"
"You're a bad actor." He smiled. "So, anyway, I thought maybe you should come stay with me for a while. Until you're all healed up."
I paused. "Come stay with you? At your house?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Cause...you're hurt. And if it's like you said, and your parents don't care...well, I don't think its safe for you to be there."

I almost denied his invitation, I almost told him I didn't want to stay with him. But then I caught the look in his beautiful hazel eyes; worry, concern...something else I couldn't place. I'd only ever seen
that look, or at least something close to it, in Mikey's eyes. The "no" that was on my lips suddenly formed to a yes. He cared.

"I...okay." I smiled. "But only if Mikey can come too. I can't leave him there alone," I told him, hoping he'd understand.
"Of course he can come."
I sighed in relief. "Thank you Frank."
"No problem. So, the doctor said he has one more test to run on ya and then you'll be released."
"Sweet."

A FEW HOURS LATER...

As Frankie pulled up in front of my house, I looked at the building in disdain. I really, really didn't like this house. I sighed and opened the door.
"I'll be right back," I told Frankie.
"Kay," he responded.

I walked up the concrete path to my front door and picked up the key that was hidden under the doormat. I let myself in, and almost immediately heard the tv blaring in the other room. I shut the door as
quietly as I could and tiptoed through the house to the stairs. I went up, trying not to make any sound, and walked down the hall to Mikey's room. I opened the door to see him furiously working on his
homework. He looked up as i walked in.
"Gee! You're out of the hospital."
He got up and hugged me tightly. I winced.
"Watch the rib, Mikes," I told him breathlessly.
"Sorry," he said, loosening his grip. He leaned up and kissed my cheek. "I've been worried about you."
"There was no need to worry. I'm fine. Frank's been taking good care of me."
"Frank?"
"The guy that ran me over," I told him with a smile. I wasn't angry with Frankie. I could never be mad at him. "Which reminds me, he's invited me to stay at his place while I heal, considering if I stay
here I'll just keep getting hurt. He said you could come too."
"...how long will it be for?"
"Just until I'm healed up. Now pack up your stuff, he's waiting out front."
"Kay."

I watched as he walked over to the closet and pulled out a worn black Jansport backpack. He stuffed some clothing inside, along with various other things. As he turned, I caught sight of a dark red streak
on his throat. I growled.
"Mikey, stop."

He turned to look at me. "What?"
I walked over and tilted his head to the side, running a fingertip over the barely-closed gash. "When?" I asked him.
"Yesterday," he told me quietly with a wince.
"Mom or Dad?"
"Dad."
"Take your stuff and go out front. Get in the car with Frankie." I told him, angered. Nobody touched Mikey. "Go."
He zipped his bag up and practically flew down the stairs. He knew not to argue with me when I got mad. I went into my room and packed my own bag, then threw it out the window so that it landed on the lawn.
I dug into my desk and pulled out a dusty silver dagger. I brushed the dust off it, then stormed downstairs. I went into the living room and switched off the tv. Dad's gaze immediately set on me.

"What the hell is your problem, dipshit?! Turn the goddamn tv back on!"
"No," I snarled. "You hurt him again. Mikey. I told you that you were never to touch him."
"I also told you that I'd like to see you stop me."

I snapped, my face contorting into a mask of fury. I jumped and tackled him to the floor, burying the knife into his chest, ignoring his screams.
"Nobody!" Stab. "Hurts!" Stab. "My!" Stab. "Brother!" Stab. I pulled the blade out and stabbed it through his hand and into the carpet, pinning him there. After that I stormed out of the house, slamming the
door behind me. I didn't care that he was screaming, and I didn't care that I had blood all over me. I picked up my bag from where it had fallen and sat in Frankie's car with a huff.
"Gee...Why are you covered in blood?" Frankie asked me tentatively.
"Nobody hurts my brother," I growled, still on my anger high.
"Gerard..." Mikey murmured, taking my hand. "Don't tell me you..."
"Let's just say that I doubt Dad will be harassing you from now on."
Mikey sighed. "Thanks, I guess."
"Mhm." I managed to calm down some as Frankie drove off. Mikey was safe. I'd make sure he wasn't hurt again. I didn't really pay attention to where we were going, but Mikey did.

"You live in The Mansion?" He asked Frankie.
"Yup. We moved in just a few days ago."

I looked out the window, and he was right. Sure enough, we were driving up the long winding road to the huge mansion on the hill.

"You know," Mikey said, "people say that the mansion's h-"

I clapped a hand over Mikey's mouth, effectively preventing him from saying any more. If there was one thing I didn't need, it was for Frank and his family to be scared out of their new house.
"Don't listen to him, he doesn't know anything." I pinched Mikey on the arm, wordlessly telling him to shut the fuck up.
"er, okay," Frankie said, obviously confused.
We all remained silent as we drove up to his house. The outside was dark grey wood paneling, with black shutters over the windows. The yard was in some serious need of repair, and as soon as I thought the
words, I saw quite a few yard workers appear from behind some trees, working to make the decrepit yard look better. Frankie parked in a huge garage which was overrun by cardboard boxes. He cut the engine and
stepped out, and followed suit and got out too. I followed Frankie inside, Mikey following me, and I held back a gasp as I saw the inside of the house. The outside was rustic and in utter disrepair, but
the inside was beautiful and modern. Their possessions were already all set up in the house, and it looked amazing. The color scheme seemed to be cream and dark brown, two colors which I couldn't care less
for, and by the look on Frankie's face, I could tell he wasn't too fond of it either. Needless to say, it was still beautiful. All the furniture was perfect mahogany, the couches and other fabrics flawless
and clean. A large wrought iron chandelier hung from the high ceiling. Frankie led us down a couple flights of stairs, to what I assumed was the basement. When we got down there, the color scheme was totally
different. It was like a whole other house down there, I could see a kitchen and a dining room and a living room. The carpet was plush and black, and the tile was checkered black and red. There were heavy red
drapes over the windows, you know, those windows that are like, half underground, but are still there so light can come in. It was amazing. He led us down a hallway, and then turned into a bedroom.
"This is my room," he said. The walls were deep red, and unlike the rest of the basement, the floor seemed to be the original deep brown wood flooring. All his furniture was sleek and black, and very modern.
Posters adorned the walls, all bands that I loved. He turned and went into the room across from his.
"This is the guest room, you guys can stay in here." It was decorated with the same color scheme, and looked pretty much like Frankie's room, except it was carpeted and didn't have all the posters on the walls.

"Thanks," I smiled at him, dropping my bag next to the door. "Can I use your bathroom? I wanna get all this blood off me."
"Sure. It's just down the hall to your right."

I grabbed some fresh clothes, then followed his instructions and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

....................

After my shower I changed into my clean clothes. I tossed my bloodstained ones in the trash; there was no way those stains were coming out. I walked down the hall into Frankie's room, to see him half under
the bed, his legs sticking out underneath. "Um, what are you doing?" I asked.
"There's this stain on the wood," he told me. "It's this deep reddish brown stain, maybe blood. I don't know. I keep scrubbing it off, but it keeps coming back darker. It's irritating."
He sighed and crawled out from under the bed. He held a cloth that looked like it used to be white, but was now stained reddish brown.
"That sounds really annoying."
"it is."

I didn't tell him what I thought about the stain, or the fact that everyone and their monkey's uncle knew that this house was haunted. Everyone who had ever lived in this house had died, had been murdered.
I didn't tell him how scared I was that he was living here, how scared I was that he would be next. I just smiled at him, hoping nothing bad would happen.

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Sorry, I know it's not as long as my first chapter. "/ sigh
But I still think it turned out pretty okay. Ish.
I like reviews. And ratings. And, if noone bothers to rate this, I won't continue. How about that. ^^