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“How are you feeling right now, Frank?” A tall man with wire-rimmed glasses surveyed the young criminal over his frames, as though trying to probe into his soul to see what was there. What was probably a large quantity of hair was slicked back into a smooth, red ponytail at the nape of his neck. His large presence seemed very out-of-place in the little room that was just large enough for two people to sit in and discuss their “feelings.”

“How are you feeling right now…Doctor?” he added as an afterthought, with a cynical sneer. The lights in this room were not so bright, and Frank felt a bit more…if not at-ease, then somewhat tame. Somewhat. He was not sitting down, as the psychologist had recommended, but was up and standing right in front of the door, as though begging it to disappear and allow him an escape.

The doctor continued to examine the boy for a moment, not speaking. Then, “I asked how you are feeling, Frank. Are you not comfortable talking about your feelings? Did your parents try to keep you from expressing your emotions?”

Frank could have spit fire at the man. The nerve! “You don’t talk about my parents,” Frank commanded tersely. “You don’t know my parents, and you sure as fucking hell don’t know me.” There was a hole in his jeans which he angrily shoved his index finger through, widening the gap in the material and wishing he had something he could just tear up, chew up, brew up, and spit the fuck out.

“Why are your parents a sore subject for you? Did they emotionally or physically abuse you? Is that why you really killed them, Frank?”

“I killed them because I’m fucking bat-shit crazy. Or haven’t you noticed that you work in a mental hospital for the criminally insane?” Frank decided to kick over the chair that he was supposed to sit in. The sound of it crashing into the wall, wooden legs scraping against the plaster, pleather rubbing against the smooth gray carpet, sent blissful shivers down his spine. Suddenly, he grabbed the chair and pulled it back into the upright position, sliding it forward so that it was so close to the doctor’s that, when Frank sat down, the two men’s knees touched. “Darling,” Frank said in a silkily smooth voice, beckoning the psychologist closer with a crook of the finger. “Did they tell you how I killed them?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” the doctor answered, trying not to show emotion, but leaning slightly forward in his seat and drawing the tip of his ballpoint pen to his little, pink tongue.

“Well…” Frank leaned forward as well, making sure to exhale as much breath as possible, knowing that the scent of nicotine was heavy there. “I was in the kitchen with my dear, sweet little mother, rounding with age, she was, but still cute as a button. Her hair was quite dark, if I do remember, or maybe the blood just stained it that way. But I’m getting ahead of myself, hmm? Anyway, I told her that I was going out with a few of my friends. She didn’t like that, oh no. Mommy informed me that she was not going to allow me to go out with my friends. Why, I don’t know; perhaps she just wanted me to be as miserable as she was. Anyway, we got into a screaming match, and dearest Mummy pulls a knife on me. A knife! On her only child, her sweet little boy. So I, of course, grabbed a knife of my own to defend myself with. She lunged, and I plunged. Right into her heart. Still beating, I could feel it reverberating through the knife. Her blood was so warm and sticky, like ruby-red cream, perhaps. Attracted by her last few screams of agony, Daddy and the dog both came running into the kitchen, both seeing what I’d done. Well, I couldn’t leave Daddy behind as a witness, could I? Not that that matters now,” Frank chuckled, before continuing with his story. “So he befell the same fate as my dear, late mother. The dog was barking like mad, jumping around, snapping at my shins, I had to do something. His blood was very, very thick, thicker than my parents’ blood had felt. It oozed over my hands, rather than poured. It matted down his pretty golden fur, and I watched the life fade slowly from his eyes. I carried him to a corner of the kitchen that was covered in as little blood as possible, and I pretended he was asleep. I even tried singing him a lullaby.” Frank leaned even further forward, waiting for the other man’s response.

The doctor cleared his throat. “And how do you feel about that?”

Frank sat back, staring down at his hands guiltily, picking at one fingernail nervously. “I miss that fuckin’ dog.”

“How did your first psych-session go, darling?” Gerard was in his usual place on the couch in the…well, Frank supposed it was a living room, technically. Once again, the rest of the patients seemed to be keeping their distance from (and an eye on) Gerard. One man, very fair-skinned with blonde hair and blue eyes, seemed to be glancing up from the puzzle he was doing at a nearby table, as though to make sure Gerard was staying in check. It was quite obvious that the man was terrified. Gerard seemed to have that effect on people, Frank noticed. Hell, Gerard had that effect on him.

“Well…” Frank pulled out a cigarette from a box that he had gotten on his second day of commitment. Turns out, being a “good boy” earned him whatever privileges he wanted. Within reason, obviously. He struck a match to the bottom of his shoe and lit the cigarette, noticing how prettily the clouds of smoke swirled around his head. “How do you think?”

“If my suspicions are correct, you threw furniture, cursed out Dr. Toro, or broke down and told him the whole, tragic story of your family’s death while sobbing uncontrollably?” Gerard took the opportunity to catch the eye of the scared blonde man who kept throwing fervent looks his way. The dark-haired man bit his lower lip viciously before winking suggestively and cocking an eyebrow, causing the fair man to look away guiltily.

“All three, actually, sans the sobbing.” Frank tossed his spent cigarette butt onto the linoleum in the same fashion as he’d seen Gerard do his first day there. He admired the way the gray ashes scattered around the delicate little tube, glistening slightly at the un-burned end where his tongue had grazed the filter. “Good guesses. I’m guessing your first session followed a similar fashion?”

“Actually,” Gerard told the younger boy, who adjusted his position on the couch to lean in a bit closer. “When that quack Toro tried to ask me about my “feelings,” all I could do was laugh in his face. I laughed for a good twenty minutes, before he called the security to carry me out and away.”

“I see.” Frank tipped his head to the side to examine Gerard, trying to catch the older man’s eye while he let his gaze wander about the room to the patients eyeing him warily. “What have you been doing for the past hour?”

“Smoking,” Gerard answered, exhaling a long, wispy stream of gray haze. “And I had a visitor.”

“Really?” Frank was quite taken aback, as Gerard hadn’t told him about any friends or family outside Moonstruck. “Who?”

“My brother,” Gerard said quietly, removing the cigarette from between his lips and becoming very interested in examining its exterior.

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Yep. Mikey. He’s younger than me. Cute kid, always was. He’s about your age, I think,” Gerard mused.

“Oh.” Frank was at a loss for what else to say. “What did he have to say?”

“He just wanted to say hello,” Gerard said, beginning to nibble on the nail of his thumb, even though it was already down to the bone. “He comes about once a week. He says we’re all each other has, now that Mom and Dad are gone.”

“Oh.” Frank nodded, as though he understood. He still didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to Gerard opening up like this, and it made him uncomfortable because he didn’t know how to deal with it.

“He asked me how I was doing. He told me he has a new girlfriend…You know, on the outside.”

“Right. I figured.” Frank answered, leaning closer involuntarily. He wondered if Gerard would be annoyed with his sarcasm.

But Gerard seemed to be in a completely different world, paying very little, if any, attention to Frank. “Her name’s Alicia. I told him she was probably cheating on him.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me he didn’t think so. So I asked him if he was cheating on her.”

“Then what did he say?”

“Nothing. He just looked at me. Then he told me he’d let me meet her someday. I told him that I have no desire to meet his soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend.”

“Then what did he do?”

“He looked at me sideways, like you sometimes do, and shook his head. He told me that he loved me, and that he had to go. I told him I loved him, too, even if I don’t always show it the right way.” Gerard’s eyes seemed to be shining with tears, but Frank supposed it could have been a trick of the light. Gerard blinked, and the older man’s eyes lost the glazed luster.

“So…what did he say?”

“He said he knew. And then he left.”

“You need another fuckin’ cigarette.” Frank pulled out his package and offered one to Gerard, who regarded it somberly before speaking again.

“I need a fucking vacation.” He stood, walking in the direction of the room they shared and leaving the room behind him significantly more light-hearted than it had been in his presence. Except now, every now and then, Frank caught one of the crazies shooting him a quick look before hastily looking away.


Lalala...I probably should have updated sooner, but I didn't because...I'm lazy? I sleep until after noon every day? I have dance class and it takes something out of me? I don't know. Either way, I finally got around to finishing this chapter. Yay. So...what do you guys think? I like this chapter, I dunno...Comment/Rate/Subscribe! Por favor? Okay. OverAndOutxx