.asylum.
"Gerard, here's... The court's final decision of you," I look up as Michael hands an envelope to me, it only having been a week since I had confessed to Frank, seemingly confessing to Michael and obviously giving evidence it was me. I had done it, I had committed those murders even if I never wanted to believe it in the first place. I'm mentally ill and I can't even deny it, I belong in a place like this, I deserve to rot for being a disturbingly psychopathic murderer.
Yet, I still don't feel guilty for my two most recent kills I had acquired. I felt as if those two murders were going to be justified by many people, many of whom were also mentally unstable, just as I am.
Frank grabs onto my hand, grabbing my own attention in the process, my eyes connecting with his. For once in the time that I had known him, Frank looked absolutely terrified. He looked as if he was only two steps away from bursting into tears and collapsing into my lap as sobs erupted from his chest.
Ever since I had told him what had happened -- my past, if you will -- he had started to... Play up around me. Not in a bad way as such, he just seemed to be so careful and delicate around me, a lot sweeter. I wasn't saying that I didn't enjoy my time with Frank because I honestly had but it seemed so strange for him to spend nearly every second with me. I also saw Brendon quite a lot when stuck in here, along with Ryan but it had started to get less frequent as the days went on.
Brendon had become to always look forlorn, Ryan visiting less and less until he didn't come to visit. It was only until yesterday -- when Brendon started sniffing and we noticed the tears streaming down his cheeks -- that we asked what was happening outside of my cell, what happened to Ryan. The questioning only made Brendon sadder, until he was full on shaking, sobs wracking his whole body and he was blubbering about Ryan. Neither Frank or I could understand him at first, until we get Brendon to calm down a little.
It was silent for a little while after Brendon controlled himself but Frank broke the silence, asking what had happened.
"Ryan's dying. I don't know what it is but it's killing him quickly. The fucking children of Jesus aren't prepared to fix him up, or even touch him, so he's going to die whether I like it or not. He can't even stand up without any support, for fuck's sake, why are they letting him rot?"
After Brendon's confession, we didn't know what it was that we were to say, what we were supposed to do, so we just left it to silence to comfort Brendon. It was happening again today, this was the final post for me. This was what was going to tell me whether I am going to survive or not, whether I was going to rot here or be executed.
"I love you." Frank's grip on my hand tightens, nails close to tearing skin off of my arm. Frank comes in closer, his mouth to my ear, "we need to fight to get the truth out there, that it wasn't you that that done this. It wasn't you, God dammit." Frank seemingly gives up, letting his head drop onto my shoulder, "I love you."
"Sometimes the truth isn't what you and I want. The truth is -- it was me Frank, I done those kills and I deserve to die for it -- if I had just succeeded when I tried when I was younger, I would've been okay, so many lives wouldn't get destroyed, those people would be alive and I wouldn't be hurting anyone."
"Shut up." Frank mumbled, too tired to even try and stop me from justifying my own suicide, "just open the fucking letter -- see what it says, then we can decide on something... In private." Frank slows down, making sure he had eye contact with me before he looks at Michael pointedly, signalling that we would make something up as soon as the official wasn't around us and left us to our own devices.
I sigh, looking back to the brown envelope that seemed to hold my fate. I flip it over, ripping the flap off and tearing the paper away to reveal the white sheet.
My impending doom, I try to joke to myself, trying to find something funny about the humourless situation I had been left with. There wasn't anything I could make a joke out of, nothing I found funny enough to actually laugh about.
"Frank, read for me. I -- I'd prefer to not read it." I look away as Frank takes the letter from my hands, his eyes scanning over the words printed.
My eyes return to Michael, seeing that he didn't seem sad nor bothered by the result of the trial, trying not to give away whether it was death or imprisonment. It only seemed to make me feel anxious, not even knowing whether I wanted death or imprisonment and which of the two were better. Michael didn't seem to have an opinion on the matter, not sharing his own thoughts on my fate as Frank read it to himself.
Frank then turns to me, a huge grin spread across his face and his eyes wide and bright.
"We've got the rest of our lives together. You, Brendon, Ryan, every other friend of ours and I, together, until we're dead. One by one we'll fall and all I can do is hope to God that we're the last two people outta the group." I laugh, taking in Frank's words and comprehending what he was implying, what he meant my future was.
I was staying, I was going to live, even if I didn't have the right to do so.
I was mentally ill enough to get away with several brutal murders and not be put to death for it.
Arms were thrown around my shoulders, a face buried into my chest, quick, feather-like kisses pressed to my neck. Frank mutters rapidly to himself, praising the God that he doesn't even believe in that I wasn't going to die. "You're not leaving me," he mumbled, bringing us face to face as I stare right back at him, feeling rather numb.
"You don't look happy, what's wrong? Why are you not happy?"
I process his words, I stare at him, but I can't form a proper answer. I didn't know the correct way of putting it across without dampening Frank's spirit or ruining the moment of my prolonged life. Michael slips out of the room with a smile on his face -- almost -- going unnoticed.
"We -- we can't celebrate this, Frank, this isn't something for us to be celebrating. I got away -- essentially -- with murder and one of our closest friends may or may not be dying. I don't think I should celebrate other's deaths and our friends possible death, it doesn't feel right."
Frank smiles, looking wicked as he did so.
"Ryan would laugh at getting away with murder as you have. Trust me, he did when he was sat here with Brendon. Besides, we have to celebrate the two of us being in love with each other, it's only right."
And, with that being said, I knew that I was crazy in love with Frank and that being stuck in an asylum for the criminally insane wasn't exactly that much of a problem for me anymore, the idea of slowly losing my mind more and more each day to fade into ignorance looking bliss. Frank being a bonus to the ignorance. Or maybe it was the look that Frank gave me right before his hands began to remove our clothing in my somewhat desolated cell, far from any orderlies.
This was what my unexpected happily ever after was, it just so happened to be a little strange compared to what was wanted by people outside of the asylum's walls.
Aye, this is the end and it has appeared to me that my endings always seem anti-climatic for which I apologise
It's been a fun trip with you guys, hope to do it again sometime soon
xosarah
