2015-08-21
408
I’d never really had an opportunity to understand the value of money. I’d been in a fucking mental institution for the past three years and I had no recollection of the sixteen years before that. We’d never been given money at Bluestone. There was no need. It wasn’t as though there was a gift shop in the lobby selling novelty syringes and tablets or badges bearing the words, ‘I survived Bluestone!’ Therefore I wasn’t really too fussed when Frank first told me we were running out of money. He didn’t seem too concerned about it at the time so I didn’t worry about it. But that was over a week ago and now I was watching as Frank frantically turned out the pockets of the nine pieces of clothing we owned between us in a desperate search for cash. At his terse request I dug into my jeans pockets and pulled out several crumpled notes. I smoothed them out as best I could on the bed and searched for the number in the corner that would tell me their value. I had two fifty dollar notes, a twenty dollar note and a single one dollar bill.
Frank snatched the money I had found off the bed and added it to the small pile on the motel room floor.
“Where did it all go?” I asked. I was ridiculously confused as to how the five thousand dollars we had bought with us from Frank’s place had diminished so quickly. I didn’t understand. Five thousand dollars was a lot of money.
“Motel rooms, food, train tickets, taxi fares, it all adds up, Gerard,” Frank said quietly.
I felt sick. Without money we would have nowhere to sleep. There was no fucking way I was sleeping on the ground. Animals do things on the ground. Terrible, terrible things. It would also be too hard to protect Frank at night without a locked door separating us from the rest of the world. “What do we do?”
Frank didn’t reply. Instead he busied himself with recounting the money for the third time.
I knew what this meant. I think this was what Markman and everyone else was waiting for. They knew we would run out of money eventually. They knew we would have to give ourselves up sooner or later.
I sighed and flopped back onto the bed, defeated. Frank joined me a moment later. He laid his head down on my shoulder and I wrapped my arm around him. It was nice to hold him and be close to him.
“Do you want to…?” Frank asked softly, turning his face in kiss my cheek.
Instantly my stomach started churning. “I don’t think so,” I replied trying to act nonchalant. The last thing I needed was for Frank to try to initiate something physical. Whenever we did it became a gigantic clusterfuck.
“What’s wrong?”
I avoided looking at his wide eyes and shrugged. “Nothing. I’m just not in the mood.”
“’Kay,” he said faintly.
I was running out of excuses. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to have sex with Frank; it was that I was terrified of hurting him again. We’d tried to reproduce our first time again twice now and both times had ended in tears. The first time involved Frank wanting to try bottoming again. That was a fucking disaster at the very least. I hadn’t even got to the point of entering him when he lost it. The second time saw me bottoming but Frank ended up being too anxious and emotional about the whole ordeal and then too upset over the pained faces I was making to sustain his erection. That one ended in tears of frustration on his part and an hour of self-deprecation.
It was fucking exhausting.
I didn’t quite understand why Frank felt like we needed to do it. I’d tried explaining to him that there were other ways to have sex that didn’t involve penetration but he refused to give up on the idea. He’d become obsessed with the whole concept of replacing his memories. It was my fault that he was acting this way. If I’d never explained my concept to him all those months ago back in the infirmary at Bluestone we wouldn’t be in this position today.
The soft sound of sirens filled my ears and I tensed instantly. In my arms, Frank did the same. It sounded like the sirens were coming closer and my palms started sweating as the noise got louder. What if they were coming to the motel right now to arrest me and send me to prison? The noise of the sirens peaked and I tried to convince myself that they belonged to an ambulance or a fire engine. Then, to my relief the sirens began to fade again until they were gone completely.
Frank climbed off the bed and peaked through a gap in the curtains. “They’re gone,” he said and shot a look at me. “You can relax.”
I frowned. I was relaxed. I felt like I was on a fucking vacation. Well, the type of vacation where you can’t stay in one spot for more than a night and the whole country was looking for you so they could cash in on a multi-million dollar reward. I sat up and folded my arms tightly across my chest. Frank stared at me for a few more seconds and then returned to peeking out the window.
“What was that?”
“What was what?” he asked.
“That look?”
“What look?” Frank turned to raise an eyebrow at me.
I studied his face. Nope, it was gone. I don’t know if I had imagined it or not but somehow I thought I’d seen the ‘holy fuck, you’re so beautiful, I love you’ look that I’d sent him numerous times before. I was probably wrong. I wasn’t convinced that Frank felt that strongly about me. I knew he liked me, and he trusted me but he’d told me himself almost two weeks ago that he didn’t love me…yet. He didn’t love me yet. There was hope. Although I could safely say there was hope that Frank might love me back given enough time, I knew that there wasn’t going to be enough time.
These past three weeks had been the best three weeks of my life. I had seen, felt, experienced and learnt more than I’d ever thought possible. But it was going to end. It was always going to have to end. I knew that it would. I just didn’t know that it was going to end so soon. Without money we had no choice but to end it. But at least we could end it on our own terms.
“What’s wrong, Gerard?” Frank asked me again.
“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” I lied.
Frank narrowed his eyes at me. “No, you’re not, Gerard. You should see your face. You look terrified. The sirens are gone. No one is coming for you.”
“How much money do we have left, Frank?” I asked.
Frank looked uncomfortable. “Let me worry about that,” he said firmly.
“How much?”
He sighed and gave in. “’Bout $400.”
It was even less than I thought. Fucking hell. Frank gazed over at me sadly for a moment before crawling back onto the bed and crouching down behind me. He wrapped his arms around my chest and rested his forehead against my back. “I’m so sorry,” he said dejectedly. “I should’ve paid more attention to how much we were spending. This is my fault.”
I didn’t reply. Not because I believed what Frank had said, but because I didn’t know how to tell Frank that we were going to have to turn ourselves in. I knew he would’ve thought about the possibility of having to do that, but like me he wanted to avoid it at all costs. Frank hugged me tighter.
I was vaguely aware of Frank gently kissing the back of my neck but I was too busy thinking about other things to react.
We had no proof that Mikey was a patient at this imaginatively named Naval Medical Centre. The news was a wasteland on information relating to him. Instead, it was all about me. I hated it when things were all about me. That was the main reason why I always forbade Markman from announcing my birthday at Bluestone. I didn’t like attention. Attention only ever bought bad things. Bad things like Them.
Frank’s hand slipped under my shirt and his fingers started stroking my chest teasingly. It took every ounce of self-control I could muster to ignore his advances He didn’t need any more encouragement. I had to focus on our current situation, and the situation in question did not involve Frank’s hands roaming around beneath my shirt.
There was no way Frank and I were going to be able to walk into this hospital expecting to walk back out. We knew that now. We arrived in town two days ago and since then we’d been holed up in the closest motel to the hospital we could find, trying to think of a way to get to Mikey without being caught. It soon became very clear to me that the only way to see Mikey was to get caught. And, now that our money was almost all gone, it seemed the decision had been made.
“Ugh,” I grunted in surprise as Frank’s fingers tweaked my nipple. No one had ever touched me there before. I’m not sure I liked it that much. “Frank,” I said disapprovingly.
“Hmmm?” he replied, kissing my neck insistently.
“Don’t -,” I began but interrupted myself with a moan as Frank kissed an extremely sensitive part of my neck.
Frank removed his lips only long enough to grasp the hem of my shirt and determinedly remove it from my body.
Frank had very prominent issues associated with sex but he seemed to have no issues with both the concept and act of foreplay. He began kissing down my back, his hands still running themselves all over my chest, stopping now and then to tweak my nipples again. I tried to keep very still to try to fool Frank into thinking I wasn’t interested in whatever he had planned. He paused suddenly as he reached the waistband of my jeans. Maybe he would stop now?
He sat up and used his hands to wrench my head around to face him. I knew where this was heading. I knew how this would end. Fuck it. In an instant I was clutching the side of his face with my hands. I took a brief moment to gaze at him before forcing my lips onto his. He reciprocated almost immediately, his hands coming up to clutch at my wrists. I kissed back harder, testing his limits. To my pleasant surprise his right hand shot out to tug at my hair. He pushed his tongue forward into my mouth, something he’d never done so forcefully before. He was obviously feeling more comfortable with me and with himself than ever before. Not satisfied with our positions, I wrapped one of my arms around his small waist and swiftly manoeuvred him so he was lying flat on his back and I was straddling his hips. I stopped kissing him and sat back, taking a moment to look at him and appreciate him. He stared back at me, his face flushed and his lips wet from the brief rough kissing session we’d just had.
The raw, animalistic urge I’d had only moments before seemed to subside dramatically and I leant down to place a more caring and soft kiss on Frank’s lips. I pulled away after only a second and brushed his hair away affectionately. I placed another lingering peck on Frank’s lips, teasing him. He smiled unreservedly and tried to pull me back in for another kiss. I grabbed his wrists quickly and playfully pinned them down over his head.
That was a mistake. “No,” he said timidly, turning his head to the side and shutting his eyes.
Fuck.
I released his arms immediately and removed myself from my position on top of him. I was a fucking idiot. Why the fuck didn’t I think that straddling a trauma victim and pinning them down would be okay? “I’m so sorry,” I whispered and gently cupped the side of his face. My stomach churned and I felt disgusting. The look on Frank’s face broke my heart. “I’m so sorry,” I repeated and kissed his shoulder in what I hoped was a comforting manner. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Frank said softly holding my hand tightly.
I felt like punching a wall. “It’s not okay,” I said miserably. “I’m so bad at this. I’m so sorry.” I tried to move away from Frank. I didn’t think he wanted me near him right now. Frank wouldn’t relinquish his grip on my hand and I hesitated as he tried to pull me back down.
“Stop it,” he said crossly. I did as he asked and sat back down next to him.
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
“It’s okay.”
I looked at him forlornly. “But it’s not okay, Frank. I keep hurting you. No matter what I do! I’m useless at this.”
“It’s not all bad,” he said solemnly.
I heaved a sigh of exasperation and looked away.
“Don’t be mad at me,” Frank said crossly.
I threw my hands up. “I’m not mad. Do I look mad?” Okay, maybe I did sound a tiny bit angry. You get that way when you’re a failure at life.
Frank looked bewildered. “Why are you acting like this?”
“Do you ever think about how I feel when you compare everything I do to them? It’s heartbreaking, Frank.”
“You always stop.”
“What?” That didn’t answer my question. He let go of my hand. I suddenly realised what he had said. “Of course I stop. I would never hurt you like that.”
Frank looked exasperated. “That’s the point, you dick! You stop! You care! I’m never comparing you to them; I’m always comparing them to you.”
I think that was meant to be a compliment. I think it meant that I was the better person and they were nothing in comparison. At least that’s what I hoped it meant.
Frank propped himself up on his elbow and leant in to kiss me but I moved away. “Frank,” I whined. Why were we doing this again? I was bad at this. I was hurting him.
“Gerard,” Frank said tiredly.
“I don’t want to hurt you again,” I objected weakly as he tugged at my arm and tried to bring me closer. “Or frighten you.”
Frank clutched his head as though it hurt him. “How else are you supposed to learn? I can’t tell you what brings back memories. Even I don’t know what brings back memories. I don’t come with a manual. And I don’t care if you do something that frightens me because I know that you’ll stop and that you’ll never do it again.”
“Okay,” I said. I loved him and all his philosophical glory.
“Good. Now go back to kissing me.”
“Okay,” I said and promptly leant back in and kissed him. Kissing Frank always made me feel different. It made me feel courageous and as though I could do anything in the world. When I was kissing Frank I didn’t think about shooting people or Them or going to prison. I didn’t even think about my secrets.
All I thought about was Frank and how soft his lips were and how smooth his face was. I knew my face couldn’t compare. My lips had been more chapped than usual as I didn’t feel comfortable consuming tap water. Who knew what was in it. They could’ve poisoned it for all I knew. My face certainly wasn’t soft either. I wasn’t exactly a contender for No-Shave November but I did have some sort of manly stubble going.
Frank shuffled position so he was lying on top of me, his leg thrown carelessly over my crotch. His carelessness certainly didn’t help the growing tightness in my pants. Frank seemed to have some sort of magical power over me that caused me get aroused at least twice as fast as I would normally. Frank seemed oblivious to my growing erection until his knee brushed over the area, which caused me to moan and buck my hips up.
“Oh.” That was all he said. My cheeks burned red from embarrassment. Frank slowly dropped his hand down to touch the denim which contained my erection. He took a deep breath and popped the button on my jeans and pulled down the zipper. He shot me a determined look and slipped his hand into my pants and wrapped his fingers around me.
Frank had never touched me like this before. I bit my lip in anticipation and pleasure as Frank hesitantly pulled my cock out from inside my pants and ran his hand up it slowly. With his other hand he flicked open the bottle of lube and squeezed it onto his fingers. He slid his hand up and down several times and my heart rate quickened.
Fuck. This felt so much better than anything I’d ever been able to do to myself. My breathing hitched and started coming out in gasps as Frank moved his hand faster. I clenched my eyes shut and couldn’t stop myself from thrusting up into Frank’s hand. He cupped my balls lightly for a second and moaned like a hormonal teenage boy. I couldn’t help it. I could feel the pleasure grow stronger and I tugged on the sheets mindlessly.
I let out a moan of disappointment as Frank stopped suddenly. I opened my eyes to see him tearing open a condom packet. He shot me an apologetic look and rolled the condom down onto my cock. He nodded in assertively and leant in. I was so fucking horny I felt like I was going to explode. He kissed me and then laid back down on the bed, spreading his legs for me.
I sat up and despite my sexually frustrated state I pushed Frank’s legs back together. His eyes widened in confusion. “Gerard,” he protested. “I’m okay. Look. No tears.”
I didn’t say a word. Instead I gently pushed Frank’s legs down to one side and then pushed on his hips so he was lying on his side with his legs pulled up halfway to his chest. His looks grew more questioning as I lay down behind him and moulded my body to fit perfectly against his. I propped my head up on my hand and Frank looked over his shoulder up at me. I kissed his lips chastely.
“Is this okay?” I asked worriedly. There was no way I was going to top him from above again. We’d tried it and it had failed. It was time to try something else. I don’t know why I hadn’t realised it before, but Frank obviously had deep issues with being pinned down. I hadn’t even thought about it until I’d seen the reaction he had when I tried restraining him. It made him panic.
“Yeah,” Frank said sounding mildly surprised. “I never really thought….”
I had a brainwave and snatched up the box of condoms from the table. I opened one and slid it down over one of my fingers and then coated my finger in lube.
“Frank,” I said, “I’m going to put my finger…inside you…. Okay?”
He inhaled deeply as though preparing himself. “Okay,” he said hoarsely and I saw him bite down on his bottom lip harshly. I took a deep breath myself and slowly starting pushing my condom-covered finger inside Frank. He didn’t freak out. He didn’t tense up. He stayed very still and stared straight ahead. I had barely inserted my finger more than half an inch so the worst was still to come. I leant down and kissed Frank on the cheek protectively. “Bit more,” I whispered into his ear and pushed my finger in further. Frank shut his eyes, still amazingly calm. I could from the new lines that had appeared on his brow that he was uncomfortable but he was being strong.
I don’t know how long it took for Frank to get used to my first finger but he did eventually. I was torn over whether the hard part was yet to come or whether it had already been overcome. Either way, my heart ached for Frank as I slowly pushed in a second finger. His hand shot out and clutched at the pillow and he made a low whining noise in the back of his throat.
I kissed his neck exactly twenty times trying to alleviate some of the discomfort. I knew that most of the discomfort was coming from the mental pain. But he needed to overcome that if he ever wanted to replace the memory. The only way to overcome it was to suffer through it. I pushed my two fingers in slowly and then pulled them back out. I repeated this so many times I lost track.
“Everything is okay,” I murmured into his ear and stroked his hair comfortingly. To my surprise, he nodded.
“I trust you,” he said, opening his eyes and looking back at me. With my eyes still locked on his I pushed in my third finger. Frank groaned in pain and clenched his eyes shut. “I don’t like that,” he mumbled, his shoulders tensing painfully.
“Do you want me to stop?” I asked.
He didn’t reply for almost a minute. I kept my fingers very still waiting for him to speak. “No,” he said eventually and I took that as a cue to move my fingers again. Frank moaned several more times but he never told me to stop. I wasn’t sure if it was from pleasure or pain though. Probably a mixture of both.
“Tell me when you’re ready.” I slipped my third finger back out and continued with only two fingers until he gave me the go ahead.
I gently removed my fingers from inside Frank and threw the condom to the side. I focused my attention on moulding myself back against Frank’s body and lined up my cock carefully. I then looked back up at Frank and tried to gauge his mental state. He had his eyes closed again and he was clutching the pillow under his head tightly.
I decided to go for it. There was no use asking Frank if he was okay when he obviously wasn’t. I pushed the head of my cock inside Frank and my body was immediately racked with waves of pleasure. I’d actually forgotten how tight it was. I could feel Frank’s muscles contracting down around me again and again. I tore my attention away from my cock and ran my fingers through Frank’s hair. “Frank?” I said.
He nodded and I noticed that the frown lines on his face were more pronounced. “I’m okay,” he said. I watched his face carefully and pushed myself in further. His head tipped back into my chest, exposing his throat. His mouth fell open and he let out a soft moan. I pushed myself in the rest of the way and felt a stab of guilt as Frank’s face contorted in pain. But there was no panic. I think he was actually okay. Maybe this was the way to fix him.
I rested my free hand on Frank’s hip and rubbed the area in what I hoped was a comforting manner while I waited for him to adjust. My heart was racing as Frank’s heated insides clenched down around me. I respected Frank and there was no way I was going to do anything without his permission but I fantasised briefly about how it would feel to just grab his hips and go for it. I mentally cursed myself for even thinking such a dangerous thought.
Frank moved one of his hands back to clutch my arse tightly. I slid myself out of Frank the tiniest bit and then pushed myself back in with the barest minimum force. Frank let out a grunt and buried his face into the soft cotton of the pillow. I repeated the action after pulling out slightly further. I didn’t hear Frank’s reaction over the sound of my own moan. It was just the pressure…and the heat…and the tightness. It was making my head explode. I continued thrusting shallowly into Frank and struggled to monitor him as waves of pleasure kept racing through me.
I dropped my hand down from his hip to touch Frank’s cock. I slowly started jerking him into arousal which made him lift his head from where it had been buried in the pillow. He tipped his head back to look at me and I kissed him. He moaned into my mouth as I continued to jerk him off. It was becoming very difficult to coordinate my thrusting into Frank whilst jacking him off and also kissing him reassuringly. Despite this I knew I was going to come soon.
I rolled my hips, falling into an easy and sensual rhythm. Frank was reacting positively to everything I was doing and it was giving me hope. More than once now he’d made sounds of pleasure. I paused as Frank started gasping suddenly. “Are you okay?” I said urgently, slightly distracted.
He replied with a moan and came in my hand. I didn’t realise he was so close. I was taken aback. How the fuck didn’t I know? My thoughts about Frank’s unexpected climax were short-lived as every single muscle in his pelvic region went impossibly tight and contracted around my cock. I tried to thrust into what could only be described as a vice but to no avail. Instead my toes curled inwards and I couldn’t support my head anymore. My head fell back onto the bed as I probably made all manner of embarrassing noises.
As soon as my vision cleared I leant over to check Frank. He was still breathing deeply, one hand resting on his chest. I kissed the side of his mouth and tried to get him to turn over so he was facing me. He obliged and rolled into my chest, pressing his lips to my skin.
“I didn’t know it could feel like that,” he mumbled as I rubbed his back.
“Me neither,” I confessed. “It was okay though?”
“Yeah. It – it hurt…less…than I remembered.”
I frowned even though he couldn’t see my face. I wasn’t sure which time he was comparing it to. Was he comparing it to the first time I topped him? Had I really hurt him that much? Or was he talking about the other men? I didn’t know and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. “I’m glad,” I said softly.
“Thank you, Gerard,” he said solemnly. I noticed that he was still holding his hand to his chest.
“You’re welcome,” I said awkwardly. It felt weird to be accepting thanks from your boyfriend after just having sex with him.
We stayed curled up together in the now dark room for a long time. I was dying to ask Frank if it had worked – if we had successfully replaced his memory. I had no idea whether it was even possible to replace such a large and poisonous memory in the first place, so I was insanely curious. He didn’t offer the information and I didn’t dare ask so my curiosity went unsatisfied, much to my dismay.
He didn’t say anything about whether it had worked the next morning either. I woke up to him sitting on the bed organising all the money we had into little piles. He didn’t know that I was awake so I watched him silently for several minutes. Every now and then his right hand would reach up to touch his chest again as though it was bothering him.
“Does it hurt?” I asked. Frank turned to look at me, his hand dropping away from his chest as he did. I was afraid that maybe I’d hurt him last night.
He smiled. “No.”
I raised an eyebrow, seeking enlightenment but he shook his head and turned on the television instead. I sat up and kissed him affectionately. I set my hand down on his chest. “Then why do you –.”
Frank stopped my question by kissing me back. “I’ll tell you another day. I promise. I’m just trying to get used to something first.”
I shot him an understanding look and made my way to the shower. I had barely been under the water for two minutes when Frank banged on my door and called urgently to me. “Come look!” he cried.
I was standing dripping wet in the middle of the motel room, a towel clutched in my hand in less than two seconds. Frank turned up the sound on the television as I wrapped the towel around my waist. The newsreader was in the middle of announcing a breaking news story: “ – moved back to the White House either later this morning or early this afternoon.”
I didn’t hear anymore after that. I didn’t need to. I knew exactly what she was talking about. I only had a small window of opportunity left to see Mikey. I raced back to the bathroom and pulled my clothes back on. I didn’t yet have a plan, and that worried me.
“Gerard?” Frank said concerned as I stood in the bathroom doorway racking my brains.
“I’m thinking,” I said smacked my head with my palms. Maybe if I went and found a staff entrance and slipped in that way? No. Maybe I could pay someone…? No, we had no money. Maybe I could disguise myself. I could bleach my hair. Surely that would give me an advantage. Yes, that could work.
“Gerard?” Frank asked again.
“I need to see him before they move him away,” I said out loud, not speaking directly to anyone.
I saw Frank nod out of the corner of my eye. “How?” he said.
I raised a finger as though about to blurt out some amazing plan but nothing came to me. Instead I stood there stupidly, my brain failing me. “Disguises,” I said eventually.
Frank looked unimpressed. “Gerard, everyone is looking for you.”
“I know that,” I snapped. Fuck my fucking useless brain. Why didn’t it work when I needed it?!
“We could just walk in….”
“And get caught? I’d barely make it to the front counter before the spooks or secret service, or whatever the fuck they’re called, are all over me. I’d never get to see Mikey.”
“We,” Frank corrected me quietly.
“What?”
“ We’d never make it to the front counter. We’d never get to see Mikey.”
“I can’t ask you to do that. Once they get me they’ll stop looking for you. You’ll be free, Frank.”
Frank looked outraged. “I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
“I’m coming with you,” he said stubbornly and starting shoving items into his backpack with an unnecessary amount of force.
My heart swelled as I watched him march around the room collecting our belongings. We’d accumulated a lot of stuff over the past three weeks. “As if I’d let you go alone,” he scoffed to himself.
I still needed a plan. If I walked into that hospital I’d never get to see Mikey. I needed to bargain with someone. I needed to tell someone that I’d give myself up, but only if I got to see Mikey.
It took over an hour for me to gather up enough courage to pick up the phone. A mild panic attack later, I was punching Markman’s cell number into the number pad on the motel room phone. My finger froze above the last number. Once I pressed it, it would call and it would be over.
In determination I pressed the ‘two’ button and placed the receiver near my ear. Frank was perched on the bed next to me, his face flushed. I didn’t know how it came to this.
“Hello?”
Fuck. It had barely rung twice. Markman must’ve been sitting by her phone. I opened my mouth but no words came out.
“Hello? Gerard?”
How the fuck did she know it was me?
Frank grabbed my leg. “Say something,” he hissed. He leant in close to the receiver so he could hear what she was saying.
“Hello,” I said croakily.
“Oh, thank God,” Markman said and I imagined her clutching her head in relief. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“What about –,” she began but I cut her off.
“I want to see him,’ I demanded.
“Okay.”
Okay? My eyes bugged out of my head and Frank looked just as shocked.
“I want to see Mikey,” I repeated just to make sure she had heard me right.
“Okay,” Markman said again and Frank squeezed my leg again, this time in delight. “Gerard, is Frank with you?”
I didn’t answer immediately. I glanced at Frank and he was nodding furiously. I shook my head. I couldn’t drag him into this with me. He reached out to snatch the phone from my hand as though to tell Markman himself but I moved away. “Yes,” I said reluctantly.
Markman sounded relieved. “Is he okay?”
“Yes,” I replied. Frank smiled smugly. There was no way I could get rid of him now.
“Good,” Markman said pleased. “Very good. That makes me feel much better. Where are you?”
“Do you promise to let me see him?” I said warily.
“I promise. Do you know where you are?”
I glanced up at Frank again. I was about to give us up. In three seconds it was going to be all over. “The Kennedy Motel. Room Nine.” It was over.
There was a flurry of movement from Markman’s end of the phone. It sounded like she was on the move. She probably was. She was probably on her way to the motel right now with God knows how many other people. “Okay, Gerard, we’re coming to you now. Stay where you are, okay?”
I hung up.
Frank reached out and hugged me tightly. I didn’t quite believe what I had just done. I wondered how long it would take for Markman to reach us. If she were staying at the hospital like I thought she was then she’d probably be here in less than five minutes.
I was wrong. It took six minutes. The sound of half a dozen cars roaring into the motel parking lot alerted us to her arrival. She’d obviously bought an entourage with her. Frank looked at me nervously and I felt sick. I didn’t want it to end. Why couldn’t I stay with Frank in a shitty cheap motel forever?
The silhouettes of numerous people suddenly appeared in front of the window and I could see them trying to peer in through the curtains. Frank looked terrified at the sudden invasion and jumped off the bed to stand as far away from the window as possible. There was a knock at the door. I glanced between the door and Frank. Frank was actually trembling and had wrapped his arms around himself. I didn’t blame him. I didn’t know what was going to happen after I opened that door.
I stood up and walked across to the door. I leant in close. “Who is it?” I called.
Frank giggled from behind me and I shot him a grin. I might as well go out in classic Gerard style.
“It’s me, Gerard,” Markman said and tried the door handle.
“Who’s me?”
Markman knew I was fucking with her but she didn’t take my bait and get frustrated. “Dr. Markman,” she said, “your amazing treating physician who has been worried sick about you for the past three weeks.”
I heard a male voice say something but I didn’t quite catch what he said. I did, however, hear Markman’s terse, “shut up and let me handle this.” I raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Put that away,” I heard Markman snap.
Fuck. Where the guys out there packing heat? That frightened me. I suddenly didn’t want to open the door. Would they shoot me? Would they shoot Frank?
“Gerard, are you going to let me in?”
I thought about asking her for the password but decided against it. The whole idea of men with guns spooked me out and I didn’t want to make anyone angry. I sighed. “Yeah,” I said and undid all the locks on the door. “Come in,” I called and took several hasty steps backwards.
The door opened immediately and Markman stepped through the door.
“Oh, hello,” I said nonchalantly, as though I hadn’t been expecting her.
She didn’t smile. Instead she was swept aside by five men in crisp, black suits and black sunglasses. Frank was instantly by my side, clutching my arm tightly as the men inspected the room for who knows what.
“It’s okay,” I murmured and wrapped my arm around his waist protectively.
Markman approached us cautiously. She looked between Frank and I several times. “Are you both okay?”
We nodded in unison and she looked incredibly relieved. I saw her eyes drop to the arm I had around Frank’s waist but she didn’t comment.
“We need to vacate the premises,” one of the men in black said and signalled to the four other men. Markman nodded and shepherded us towards the door.
“Don’t forget our stuff,” I objected and pointed to the bags we’d put together.
I didn’t get to see if they bothered to grab our belongings before I was practically stuffed into one of the cars. I glanced out the window and saw heaps of people standing around watching. Some of them were holding up their phones, taping the whole show. I growled at the disgusting way they were acting. I would never film them getting captured and they should show me the same respect.
“Ignore them,” Markman instructed. I flipped them all off as we drove past but Markman ruined my fun. “They can’t see you,” she said indifferently.
Damn. Frank was very quiet next to me. He was holding my hand tightly in his lap and staring down at his knees. “It’s okay,” I whispered to him.
He nodded. “I know.” I kissed the side of his head quickly and he blushed. I don’t think he was very comfortable with so many strange people around.
Ten minutes later Frank and I were inside the hospital and sitting at a large table with Markman. There were two men in black standing against the walls of the small room, watching me. I didn’t like the idea of these men following me and standing over me all the time. They could be working for Them for all I knew.
Markman was studying both Frank and I carefully. “What you did was very irresponsible,” she began.
I frowned. Wasn’t she the one who let us leave in the first place? I thought about bringing that fact up but decided against it. I didn’t want to get her in trouble if no one knew that’s what she did.
“How did you manage to survive out there? Where did you sleep?”
“When can I see Mikey?”
“Where did you get the money from?”
“When can I see Mikey?” I repeated. She obviously hadn’t heard me.
“Later,” she said, brushing my request aside.
I stood up angrily. “I want to see him now,” I said in a restrained voice. She promised me.
Markman pursed her lips and exchanged a look with one of the men in black who had moved in closer when I stood up. “That’s not a good idea, Gerard.”
The fury rose up inside me. Next to me, Frank’s mouth dropped open in shock. He didn’t believe that she was daring to go back on her word. She promised me! “You promised me!” I exclaimed and beat the table with my fist. “I want to see him.”
Markman looked upset. “No.”
I took a step towards her and raised my fist but the closest man in black pushed me back. I stumbled slightly and Frank stood up to steady me. “You promised me,” I said, my anger dissipating into hopelessness
“Mikey’s gone, Gerard,” Markman said heavily and I panicked.
“He’s dead?!” I exclaimed and Frank clutched my arm tightly. He couldn’t be dead. They said on the television that he wasn’t dead!
Markman looked flustered. “No! No. He’s not dead. He’s alive. He’s just…different. I don’t know what you remember about him, Gerard, but that’s gone. He’s not the same Mikey anymore.”
I didn’t understand. How could he been alive but gone at the same time? I needed to talk to him. I needed to tell him I was sorry. “I – I – I don’t – ugh,” I said helplessly and sat down.
“You don’t understand?” Markman guessed.
“No. What is wrong with him? Why can’t I see him? Did you even ask him if he wanted to see me?”
Markman rubbed her eyes sorrowfully. “He won’t recognise you, Gerard. He doesn’t know who you are.”
“Why not!?” Markman looked like she wasn’t going to answer. “Stop trying to protect me,” I cried and clenched my fists together.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said eventually. “You deserve to know.”
I didn’t reply for fear of making her change her mind. I just sat forward and listened intently.
“When Mikey accidentally got….” She paused and shot me a warning look. “…shot.”
“When I shot him,” I interjected frankly.
“Accidentally,” Markman said loudly.
I opened my mouth to say something else but Frank set his hand down on my thigh. He shook his head at me. I reluctantly shut my mouth and let Markman continue.
“When Mikey accidentally got shot he went in cardiac arrest. Which means his heart stopped beating. Okay?” I nodded mutely and she continued. “Because his heart stopped beating no oxygen was getting pumped to his brain. It’s very important for preservation of function that the brain gets oxygen. Do you understand that?”
“Yes.”
Markman took a deep breath. “They eventually managed to resuscitate him in the ambulance but when they got to hospital they discovered that Hypoxic Ischemic Encephalopathy had developed. I know you don’t understand what that means,” she added at the baffled look on my face. “It’s a term used to describe brain damage caused by a lack of oxygen and blood flow to the brain and it often results in mental retardation.”
I stared at Markman blankly. I didn’t understand.
“Mikey’s not Mikey anymore, Gerard. He looks sixteen but mentally he’s not really there. He’s like a child. He’s still being retaught how to move and talk and communicate. He doesn’t remember much. As far as we know, he doesn’t remember you at all. He’s….” She couldn’t think of the word.
“Broken,” Frank said quietly.
He was broken. I’d broken him. I’d shot him and destroyed him. I was a monster. I think I felt better when I thought he was dead instead of trapped in a broken mind.
“I want to see him,” I said unable to tear my eyes from the ground.
Markman shook her head. “That is a very bad idea, Gerard. It won’t accomplish anything. It’ll just upset you.”
“Please.” I needed some sort of closure.
“No, Gerard.”
“Please.”
She sighed. “Wait here,” she instructed and left the room.
I didn’t feel very hopeful. “Are you okay?” Frank asked tentatively and squeezed my hand.
“No,” I replied shortly.
“It’ll be okay.” He was trying to comfort me. He was wrong. It wasn’t going to be okay.
Markman didn’t return for a long time but when she did she was accompanied by a blonde lady in a lab coat. Markman introduced her as Dr. Gold. Dr. Gold sat down next to me. I avoided her eye contact. I didn’t feel worthy enough to look at anyone right now. I was a monster.
“Hello, Gerard,” Dr. Gold said and took my hand. She held it tightly. “Dr. Markman tells me that you want to say hello to Mikey?” I nodded furiously. She nodded as well. “That’s fine,” she said. “We can do that. He likes visitors. But, before you see him I want to talk about a few things with you, okay? I want to prepare you.”
I nodded again. Prepare away, but make it quick. I had a brother to see.
“There are several things that really upset Mikey. He gets very anxious with yelling and loud noises. He doesn’t like surprises or unexpected movements so try and stay calm. Can you do that, Gerard?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Another thing: self-mutilation is quite common in people with brain damage and Mikey likes to pick at his fingers so don’t be alarmed by the gloves and tape on his hands. They’re there for his protection. He also suffers from involuntary muscle spasms and twitches so be aware of that. Most of all you have to remember that mentally he is barely the age of a six year old so don’t expect too much of him.”
“Can I see him now?” I asked. I didn’t want to believe that Mikey was going to do any of the things she just said. I wanted to believe that he would recognise me. I wanted to believe that he would be okay.
“Sure.”
She led me from the room and I shot a look at Frank as I left. He nodded encouragingly. Dr. Gold led me down several corridors and stopped in front of a door. “Remember what I said,” she said warningly and opened the door.
He looked just like I imagined him. Well, physically anyway. My brother was sitting at a bright green plastic table, which was strewn with paper and crayons and pencils. He was wearing a bright yellow Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt and bright blue boxer shorts with the Superman logo on them. A pair of glasses was perched on the end of his nose. I didn’t remember him wearing glasses. I sat down at the table opposite him.
“Hello, Mikey,” I said nervously.
He didn’t even acknowledge I had sat down. Instead he clutched a red pencil tightly in his fist and rubbed it furiously across the paper. The lady next to him shook her head at his colouring style. “Now, Mikey,” she said patiently and plucked the pencil from his fist. “How do we hold a pencil?” She tried to position the pencil properly between his thumb and his index and middle fingers.
Mikey made a loud noise of disagreement and pushed her hands away roughly.
“Mikey,” she said loudly. “That’s not how we treat people.”
He didn’t listen to her. Instead he flung the pencil on the ground and folded his arms angrily. He made sort of unintelligible comment. “Use your words,” the lady said and picked the pencil up.
“N-n-no!” he spluttered and swept all the pencils within reach off the table.
I felt sick. My heart ached at the sight of him. This wasn’t my brother. My brother was gone. I had broken him. The lady who I assumed was some sort of occupational therapist gave me a comforting look. “He’s having a bit of a bad day,” she explained and placed all the pencils back on the desk.
I glanced back to Mikey. He was staring up at the roof. I looked up to see what had caught his attention but there was nothing. He was staring at nothing. Normal people didn’t stare at nothing. I glanced down at his hands and one of them was shaking. I figured it must be one of those involuntary muscle spasms the doctor was talking about.
“Talk to him,” the therapist encouraged.
I panicked. What should I say? “Hey, Mikey,” I said loudly. To my surprise Mikey looked up at me. “Hey,” I repeated and smiled as best I could at him.
His eyes dropped back down and he continued colouring in. I leant in to see what he was drawing. “That’s a really good picture,” I commented and pointed to the crude stick figures he was drawing. I suddenly noticed the Batman tattoo Mikey had on his forearm. “Are they superheroes?” I asked. I figured he liked Superheroes and was probably drawing them too.
He nodded and bounced up and down in his chair. “Yes,” he forced out.
One of the stick figures had black hair. “Is that Batman?” I asked.
Mikey made a loud growling noise in his throat. He sounded angry. I didn’t know what I had done wrong. “No, you stupid head!” he exclaimed, his words disjointed and strained as though it was hard for him to say them. “It’s not Batman!” he said and his voice rose. “It’s my brother. It’s Gee-rard.” He growled again and his hand twitched. “Not Batman.”
The therapist’s head snapped up and she stared at me. My heart started to race. I wasn’t sure but I think Mikey may have just indirectly called me a Superhero. He was certainly drawing me as one. A strange feeling came over me.
“Where is your brother?” I asked casually.
Mikey looked up at the same spot on the ceiling again and I noticed he was rocking back and forth in his chair. He couldn’t sit still. I repeated the question twice more but Mikey didn’t reply. I couldn’t get his attention.
“Mikey,” I said forcefully. “Where’s Gerard?”
Mikey didn’t look at me. “He got lost,” he said indifferently and put one of his gloved fingers in his mouth. The therapist pulled it out quickly.
What did that mean? I didn’t understand what his six-year-old brain was trying to tell me. Mikey suddenly ripped his glasses off and flung them on the ground. “Lies!” he exclaimed. I sat back, startled by his odd behaviour. He started rocking back and forth in his seat again.
I felt my eyes begin to tear up. I didn’t want to cry in front of him. I wanted to ask Mikey what he thought about me but I was afraid of what I was going to hear. Mikey suddenly turned his attention to me and I wiped my eyes furiously. “I’m so sorry,” I choked out.
“Why?” Mikey asked.
“I did something very bad and lots of people got hurt.”
Mikey tilted his head to the side inquisitively. “Gee-rard did something bad t-too. Th-that’s my brother,” he added as though I’d forgotten.
“Gerard is very sorry,” I said and lost the fight to keep from crying.
“I’m hungry,” he announced and rubbed his stomach.
I buried my head in my hands and let the tears fall from my eyes. I felt someone put their arms around me and I looked up in surprise. Mikey was hugging me. “What-what-whatever you did, everyone forgives y-y-you,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Do you forgive me?” I asked desperately
Mikey poked me in the arm. “Um, d-d-do you want a s-s-sand-wich?”
I shook my head. He shrugged and sat back down. A moment later he was banging his fists on the table furiously and snapping the crayons in half.
“I’m sorry,” I cried urgently as the therapist tried to restrain him. He only fought against her harder and several nurses ran in from outside to help. “Mikey, I’m so sorry!”
He froze and looked at me over the arms of one of the nurses. His eyes were open wide and I thought that maybe he recognised me. “Will you f-f-find my brother?” he asked and narrowed his eyes at me. “He’s a little bit l-lost.”
I nodded silently. Mikey looked satisfied. “Bye.”
The nurses led Mikey out of the room and I stared helplessly after him trying to understand what he was saying. It had to mean something. It had to be more than a broken boy’s ramblings.
“Are you okay?” An unfamiliar male voice spoke to me and I spun around. I vaguely recognised this man. He’d shown up at Bluestone once before and I’d seen him on the television once or twice. I think this man is my father.
I didn’t reply. Instead I gazed stupidly at the tall, powerful man as he sat down gracefully in Mikey’s seat. He looked through Mikey’s simple drawings and scribbles pensively.
“Are you okay?” he asked again without making eye contact.
“No.”
“He’s normally more lucid than that,” the man said and squinted at the superhero drawing. “I’m sorry you had to see him like that. It’s distressing.”
“He didn’t recognise me,” I said quietly.
“He doesn’t recognise me or your mother either. I’m sure Dr. Gold told you but Mikey’s not there anymore. This is someone different.”
“It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t –,” I said through clenched teeth.
“No it’s not.”
“It is!”
“I’m not going to have this argument with you,” he said dismissively. “It happened. It was an accident. Your mother and I have moved on and you should too.”
I folded my arms and went into a silent sulk. Of course he could get over it and move on, he didn’t kill anyone. He wasn’t left to rot in a mental institution for four years with no memories.
“I met Frank,” my father said. “He’s a lovely boy.”
“He’s my boyfriend,” I said pointedly.
“I know. I don’t have any problems with you being gay, Gerard.” I glanced up at him in surprise. He smiled at my shocked face. “I’m not a monster,” he said. “You’re my son. I love you. But you know what’s going to happen now, right?”
Of course I knew what was going to happen now. I was going to be shipped off to Greenwood and kept in a tiny padded cell for the rest of my life because of what I’d done. I was going to be locked away and separated from Frank forever.
“We found somewhere new for you to stay,” my father said gently. “It’s called the Brock Institute.”
“Why can’t I stay at Bluestone?” I asked hopefully.
“Bluestone isn’t really the best place for you at the moment. You need to be somewhere safe and secure where you can get help.”
“I can get all the help I need at Bluestone. Markman will help me.”
“She’s been trying to help you for the past four years, Gerard, and it’s not enough. We need to try something else. Brock is a new place that I think you’ll like. It’s nice. I looked just this morning. And you’ll be safe there, I promise.”
I let my shoulders slump in defeat. “Can Frank come with me?”
My father shook his head firmly. “It is no place for Frank, you know that.”
“What will happen to him?” I asked.
“Well Dr. Markman said that she’ll take him back to Bluestone and reassess what to do with him from there.”
I felt slightly comforted by that. He’d be safe at Bluestone. Ray, Bob and Adam would probably all still be there. And I guess he could come and visit me? Would he even want to come and visit me? I wouldn’t come and visit me. I wasn’t even sure if Frank would even look at me after he saw what I’d done to Mikey. I had to find another way to keep him safe.
“Can you do something for me?” I requested and dug around in my pocket for an old newspaper clipping.
“Anything.”
I held out the newspaper clipping with the pictures of Frank’s rapists on it. I pointed to the men. “They hurt Frank. Can you find them and arrest them, please? Or just get them off the streets so he doesn’t have to worry? I can’t protect him anymore and I need to know they’re not going to get him.”
My father studied the paper for a moment. “Gerard, I think this is something we need to discuss with Frank.”
“Then let’s get him,” I said and began to stand.
“Later,” my father said patiently. “We have plenty of time.”
I saw someone move out of the corner of my eye and I leapt to my feet when I saw who it was: Jasper. My heart rate quickened. What was he doing here? The last time he saw me he said he would watch me die. Was I about to die? “I need to go,” I said and started walking towards the door. I had to get away. I needed to hide.
My father followed me. “I’m not finished speaking to you yet,” he said.
“In a minute,” I said distractedly as Jasper signalled that he wanted to speak to me.
“No, Gerard. Now. ” He put his hand on my shoulder and I threw it off forcibly. In a split second one of the men who had been hovering nearby slammed his palm into my chest and sent me sprawling to the floor. Gasping for breath and clutching my chest I stared up at my father who was suddenly surrounded by six men who were leading him away from me.
“Stop it,” my father exclaimed and pushed past his entourage. He crouched down next to me and tried to touch me but I shifted away. “Are you okay?” he said.
The pain in my chest was ridiculous. That man must’ve had super strength or something. I scrambled backwards and then to my feet. I threw open the door and faltered as I saw the corridor was packed with people. Frank was the only one looking at me with concern. Everyone else was looking at me warily as though they expected me to shoot them all.
“Gerard,” my father called.
I ignored him and pushed through the crowd, moving as far away from Jasper as I could. I raced down the corridor and dashed into a disabled bathroom. I slammed the door shut and locked it. Then I turned around and froze when I saw that Jasper was in the room with me.
“You’re not real,” I said my voice quavering.
“Yeah, whatever you say,” he said dismissively. He leant against the wall and surveyed me with a smug look on his face. “So, daddy’s sending you to Brock?” he mocked. “You’ll have to thank him for me.”
I turned around to reopen the door but Jasper grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me away. He stood boldly in front of the door, preventing me from leaving. “Let me go,” I said bravely.
“ They have spies in Brock. You won’t even last a week.”
My mouth went dry and my throat constricted in fear. I shook my head in disbelief. My father wouldn’t send me to a place where They had spies. I had to tell him. There had to be somewhere else.
The door handled rattled from behind Jasper and he grinned. “Your daddy’s going to ship you off to Brock and then They’ll come for you and I’ll finally get to watch you die. Finally!” he said gleefully. “I’ve had enough of your shit.”
“But they’ll get my secrets! Jasper, the world will end!”
He shrugged. “Then I guess this is the way the world ends: Not with a bang, but a whimper. You always were a pathetic and weak choice for a secret keeper.”
The door burst open and Jasper hastily stepped aside. Markman crouched down next to me as I clutched my throat painfully.
“Don’t let them get me,” I begged, grabbing her arm. “I can’t go. Please,” I pleaded. “The world will end!”
She didn’t know what to do. Why didn’t she know what to do? She’d made them go away many times before. She was the only one they were afraid of.
Two men reached down and hauled me to my feet. I yelled and kicked out at them. I was sure they were going to take me to Brock. They were going to take me to my death. My furious struggle against them only increased their desire to restrain me. They dropped me to the floor and held me down as I kicked and screamed. People all around me were screaming and yelling instructions.
I felt one of the men turn my head to the side and then I felt the needle slide in through my skin.
“No,” I said weakly.
Jasper just laughed.
Chapter 20: “I'm probably one of the most dangerous men in the world if I want to be. But I never wanted to be anything but me.”
It appears that I have been sentenced to permanently exist in the presence of my intern, the intern I met in Hell Week: Brendon.
I remember Brendon. He thinks he’s my friend. He’s wrong. He is not my friend. He is my enemy.
Of course he is not as much of an enemy as They are, but I still deem it appropriate to classify him as one. I remember very clearly the viciousness of the lies he wrote in his report about me to Markman. He called me callous and selfish. He called me crazy.
“I’m not crazy,” I announce impatiently to Brendon and Dr. Morgan. They are both studying me keenly, their pens poised and ready to sign off on the continuation of my involuntary treatment order.
It was a lie, of course. I know I’m crazy. I destroyed my brother because I am crazy. But, I don’t want to be here, so I have to convince Dr. Morgan and Brendon that I am sane and should be discharged. I need to convince them both that I am well enough to be released into the community.
It is never going to happen, but one can hope.
“You don’t think you’re crazy?” Dr. Morgan reiterates. I don’t like Dr. Morgan. At all. In fact, I hate her. She is even better at reading my mind than Markman and that scares me. She has this way of looking into my eyes and forcing me to speak to her and tell her about my feelings. As a result I have been forced to build two extra walls since arriving at Brock and meeting her. She obviously isn’t human. She is obviously evil.
I nod, agreeing with her statement.
“So, you were in your right mind when you hurt Mikey?” she asks.
What the fuck kind of question is that?! Who asks someone that? Fuck. That is why she is evil. I am no longer referring to her as Dr. Morgan, she shall be Dr. Evil.
I don’t reply to her statement. I feel my chest tighten as she forces me to think about the brother I have destroyed. I have spent a lot of time coming up with ways to not think about Mikey, but Dr. Evil pushes the topic every time she sees me.
“Gerard?” Dr. Evil presses.
“I don’t know!” I say defensively. To be honest, I don’t even remember hurting Mikey, so I have no way of knowing whether I had been in my right mind or not.
Dr. Evil watches me carefully and I quickly smooth out my facial features. I can’t let her see how much pain it causes me to think about Mikey. “So, you don’t think you’re crazy, Gerard?”
“Crazy is a very strong word,” I object nonchalantly, and study my fingernails. Acting nonchalant is one of the walls I have built. It is very effective. I need to give the impression of being indifferent and in control. Being in control is the very opposite of crazy and I can’t be both.
Dr. Evil looked surprised. “I’m using your word, Gerard,” she said. “You were the one who used the word in the first place when you told me you weren’t crazy. In fact, I don’t think you’re crazy at all. I think you’re sick.”
My wall of nonchalance weakened slightly at the word ‘sick.’ Markman often tried to convince me that I was sick. Frank tried to do the same thing. I’m not sick.
Sickness implies weakness and weakness implies that I am not up to the challenge of carrying these secrets. Jasper is wrong; I am not a pathetic and weak choice for a secret keeper. I have kept the secrets safe for years. I’d pay a lot of money to know of anyone else who could do a better job than that. Most secret keepers barely last six months, but not me.
I clench my fists together tightly. “I’m not sick,” I say, weighing each word heavily and spitting it out like it is poison.
Dr. Evil nods. “So, you’re not sick, and you’re not crazy?” she asks.
Exactly.
“Then why do you think you are here?” she continues casually.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” Her calmness is frustrating.
“I honestly have no idea.” That’s a lie.
“Yes, you do.”
“No, seriously, Doctor –.”
Dr. Evil shakes her head at my protests. “Yes, you know exactly why you are here. Tell me.”
“No.” I know exactly why I’m here, but I won’t ever admit to it.
“Tell me.” Her voice is firm but she is still unwaveringly composed. I hate her. She is going to make me say something I’ll regret.
I beat my fists down on the armrests of my chair. “No, stop it.”
“Tell me.”
“Because I destroyed my brother! Okay?!” The words exit my mouth before I’m fully aware of them.
Dr. Evil goes silent as I practically shake with anger. That is private information. She has forced me to admit that to her. How dare she use her abilities on me? She has powers. She has no right to make me say things like that.
“Destroyed?” Dr. Evil says softly.
I stand up from my chair and march out of the room. I will not be subjected to questioning about Mikey. Dr. Evil has no right to know how soul-consuming and gut wrenching my guilt is. That’s private.
I am here in Brock because I am a monster.
I make my way to the cafeteria and sit down at an empty table. I don’t have a table of my own here. I don’t like having to sit at a new table for every meal. I hate it, but I can’t control it. I don’t dare challenge anyone in this place. They all look and act like they could kill me with their bare hands.
At Bluestone, people respected me and feared me. They left me alone. I had a reputation. But here in Brock I’m the new guy, and everyone knows that the new guy gets treated like shit.
I pull my sketchbook out of my jacket and hold it loosely in my hands. A second later, it is ripped from my grasp by one of the other patients. He darts away from me as I lunge after him.
“What have we got here?” he says patronisingly and flicks through the pages. Panicked, I scramble towards him, but he runs away, putting the table between us. “Oh, who’s this?” he asks and holds up an incomplete sketch I’ve done of Frank. “He’s so pretty.”
“Give it back!” I exclaim, and lunge unsuccessfully across the table towards him.
“He looks like he could be one of the purple people. Is he? My girlfriend was one of them. She had purple skin. That’s why she died.”
“That’s why you killed her,” I snarl and wrench the sketchbook from his hands.
He shrugs. “She was one of the purple people. She wasn’t human. Humans don’t have purple skin, dickhead.”
“Misha, leave Gerard alone.” An orderly finally notices Misha’s harassing and comes over to put an end to it. “Go and sit at another table.”
I shoot a filthy look at Misha as he wanders off. I’m not a dickhead. He’s the dickhead. And Misha? What kind of fucking stupid name is Misha? I sit back down at the table and smooth down the pages Misha has crinkled. I stop running my fingers along the creases to stare down at the picture I’d drawn. I miss Frank so much.
I hurriedly close my sketchbook and tuck it back inside my jacket as a nurse approaches my table. She thrusts a tiny paper cup in my face, which I accept obediently. Then, like I’ve done for the last week, I throw the pills into my mouth and pretend to wash them down with a small swig of water. After deftly hiding them both under my tongue and up next to my gum, I open my mouth to the nurse for inspection. She looks into my mouth more carefully than usual, but upon seeing no evidence of my deceit, she moves away to poison the next patient.
As soon as her back is turned I quickly spit the tablets out into my hand before they disintegrate in my mouth, and stow them away in my pocket. The next chance I get I’ll flush them down the toilet. It’s too easy.
I’m startled as Brendon suddenly appears next to me, and I discreetly withdraw my hand from my pocket, setting it down awkwardly on my leg. “May I sit?” he asks, indicating the seat opposite me.
I shake my head. “No, I’m saving it for someone.”
Brendon looks rather bewildered at my answer. It’s almost as though he thinks it’s completely outrageous for me to suggest that there is someone in this shithole that would willingly elect to share a table with me.
“Who?” he asks stupidly. Well, everything he said is stupid; he is stupid.
“Jesus,” I say casually, and begin picking bits off the empty Styrofoam cup in front of me.
Brendon looks down at the seat as though Jesus is actually going to appear. “Oh,” he says eventually. “Good joke.”
I look up at him, wearing my best disgusted look. “Does my choice to believe in a deity and his son amuse you? I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to discriminate on the basis of religious belief.”
Brendon’s professional demeanour disappears. He makes a big show of letting go of the back of the chair I’d saved for Jesus and then striding off. I grin to myself and move to pull my sketchbook back out. But, before I do, I make sure Misha is nowhere near me. If he dares to touch my things again I’ll punch him in the eye socket. W
