:.:.:Heathens:.:..

:...Chapter..:1:

"Why did you do it? Do you think you can answer that question?" 

"It wasn't my fault."

"You were in a worldwide band with this man, yes?"

"Yes."

"You were very close with him, yes?"

"Yes." 

I looked down at my raw hands, I could still feel the blood dripping down them, down my arm. I could still feel the cold water from when I was scrubbing the blood away. I could still see the blood stains from the attack which I originally had to cover up with black paint so no one would question me.

"We need to check your mental state tonight. We'll also try this conversation again tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," I whispered, resting my hands on my thighs palms down.

The door opened and another officer came in.

"Get up," he commanded. I did as he said, following him to my cell. I didn't mind my cell, it was quiet, I had a few pictures of Him and I. The bed wasn't very comfortable, and I didn't like having to use the bathroom in front of others, it was awkward and disgusting. I walked through the rusty door and sat on the bed I'd probably be living on for the rest of my days. 

"Enjoy yourself," remarked the officer, I smiled at him and nodded as he walked off. I stared blankly at the grey brick wall. I wonder how many people have stayed in this cell, this prison is very old. It's been standing for at least one hundred years, mainly because mutants became a thing.
This place has been filled with mutants or simply insane people. Like me maybe, every person who I've talked to claims I'm insane because of what I did - although all those people are officers or doctors. It wasn't even my fault. I must admit, I did love Him. Not like I loved my wife before she divorced me. Just like any man would with their best friend. I think we had a lot in common, like music taste, gaming, practically everything. The one thing I liked most about Him was that he looked after me. He watched over me like I was a child. Which I didn't mind of course. He kept me sane, made sure I took my pill, made sure I slept enough and made sure I didn't have another attack. He never did like my attacks. He could never handle them no matter how much He tried; pretending He knew what He was doing. I remember one time it was after a concert, I started walking around in an hallucination, walking into places I never should have been. I once walked outside into a crown of crazy fans. He had to come running out to help me, pushing fans off me, which He hated doing because he truly loved the fans and seeing their sad faces as He took me back inside without any input. Yet, He didn't want fans to know I was practically insane because rumours would be spread and the world would go mad. Especially because our two person band was growing so much. 

Once I came out with our last album many conspiracy theories were created, He couldn't handle it at times because He was truly scared the truth would get released. Luckily it didn't. The album was pretty crazy thinking about it. It was about insecurities taking over your body and controlling your every move. I believed that was happening to me, I named him Blurryface, he follows me around all the time, he's in my dreams. I remember him being in a dream I had, it stopped me from sleeping for a week, that got Him concerned for my health. We had to cancel the concerts that next two weeks so I could seek medical help. I never did, I stayed at home all day everyday, I slept up to four hours a night, maybe an hour in the afternoon too. That two weeks was hard, He always came to help me, make sure I took my pill every morning and to make sure I wasn't on the floor crying, bleeding or dead. 
I've been in hospital because of my attacks. The first time, I blacked out and hit my head off of the kitchen sink, leading to me cracking my head open. He was visiting that day anyway, so it was lucky He found me otherwise I'd be the dead man now rather than Him. 
I wish He could still be alive. I never meant to be so violent. It's a shame that I can't keep the legacy of the band alive, all my fans will support me. But I don't want that, I've done wrong and I've made a mistake. Now I'm doing the punishment. I hope Our music gets taken down off shelves, deleted off the internet, everything because I don't want people listening to Our music knowing I killed my best friend. I can't make money from it anymore anyway. I'm going to be here for life, or maybe in a mental asylum for life.