𝐌𝐲 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐬 𝐈𝐥𝐥 (g.w. x reader)

Truth

I wake up with a start. I open my curtains and open a dresser to find multiple sets of clothes ready for me to wear. How'd they know my size? That's strange...

The eerie feeling I had last night came crawling back up my spine and I shivered.

*knock* *knock*

"Y/n are you okay in there?" Frank asks from the other side.

"Yeah why?"

"I feel uncertain, so I just wanted to check up on you." Maybe he is a psychic, I am feeling quite uncomfortable and confused.

I walk out of what I now call my room and hop down the elegant stairs that lead to the living room. Then finally make my way to the kitchen. Gerard was there cooking?

"I didn't know you cooked." I state in shock.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me Y/n." Hearing my name roll off his tongue in such an ominous manner was... sexy.

"Oh sure, I already know that you're a confusing pain in my ass." I retort and he spins around from the stove pointing a utensil at me.

"You wanna play that game Sugar? 'Cause I'll play that game." He pauses and starts walking closer to me slowly. "You're not such a saint yourself. You were in that institution for homicide. So don't. Say. Shit." I'm in shock.

"I.. I was in for what?" I ask tears welding in my eyes.

"Homicide." He turns around and goes back to cooking as silent sobs escape my lips.

"Gerard.. why's the girl crying?" Frank asks walking into the room.

"Ask her, not me. I didn't kill anybody."

"You fucking told her-?!?!" Frank throws his hands up as I take a sip of water on the table. I don't care who's it is, it's mine now.

"Figured it'd be better now than later. She was being a brat anyway." More tears cascade down my cheeks. I walk out of the kitchen and back to my room with that glass still in my hand.

I take a shaky sip from it and then set it on my bedside table. "Who did I kill... why can't I remember?" A husky voice asks.

"I'm a monster," it whispers. I hold my breath. Waiting for something to happen but nothing does. I just sit there, constantly letting out breaths then holding them again. Almost as if it's tug of war.

I don't even recognize myself anymore, not even my voice.

I hear Frank and Gerard bickering back and forth.

"YOU'RE A FUCKING DICK!! YOU DON'T DO SHIT LIKE THAT!" more insults ensued, but at that point I could care less. I killed somebody? Maybe I killed more than just one person. No wonder no one wanted to talk with me. Just notes sent to me by big bulky guys trying to get into my pants. Most of them just said they wanted to hold my pinky or cuddle me. Lies.