A Game - Frerard

Part 1

Gerard's POV-

I was surprised at the size of the house. This man clearly had enough money for a mansion, considering what his profession was. But instead he settled for a house in the nice side of the small suburban town, just wanting best for his daughter and her upbringing. I was told that Mr. Iero wanted a normal family life, and struggled to keep all the dark parts about his life and job far away from his precious daughter so she could feel like a regular kid.

It's sweet, honestly, and I think that's a good idea in theory, for someone that isn't the boss of a giant drug organization. An organization that has a rival company so brutal they have men kill on the daily in order to get closer to bringing down Iero Industries. But I guess I shouldn't comment or complain on the whole situation. It makes my job easier.

I slowly circle the large, blue house, searching for a way into the house in the dark. I check every window, until finally cracking open a large window on the first floor located behind some bushes. I first throw my bag in, then I hoist myself up onto the window and into the house.

I look at my surroundings, taking in the tall, dark bookcases, deep blue rug under my feet and large armchairs next to a big wood desk. I exit the room and I'm in a small hallway that opens into a living space.

I sigh as I realize that finding what I want is going to take awhile.

Frankie's POV-

I'm woken up by a loud ringing and buzzing coming from my phone. I groan and grab it, pressing the off button to mute the call, and then slide it under my pillow. I lay in bed for just a minuet before pulling out my phone and checking the time.

2;37 am, it read. I groan again in frustration and burry my head into my pillow.

My parents are off taking care of something for my dads business in England for the week, so I've been home alone. After making myself dinner, I decided there was no one stopping me from laying in bed until I wanted to sleep, so I watched a movie in my bed until I ended up falling asleep on accident at 6 pm.

Missed call from - Daddy💗, the screen on my phone also read. What could he need to tell me at two in the morning? He said he'd call me every day while he was gone, but I didn't expect him to call me at the buttcrack of dawn. I sigh, slide my phone into the waistband of my underwear, and flop back onto my soft green pillow, although I feel fully well rested.

I get up after a minuet or two, and make my way downstairs to the kitchen. I slide across the dark wood floor paneling in my knee-high socks and giggle as I almost slip, grabbing onto the island in the middle of the kitchen. I slide over to the fridge, shaking my bum and humming softly as I look around for something to eat, finally pulling a carton of orange juice. I turn around, still humming, head for the cupboard to grab a glass, but I'm met with a dark figure standing near the oven, a gun twirling in between his slender fingers that just barely poke out of his deep blue hoodie. I scream, throw the carton of juice at the figure and run as fast as I can in soft socks and on a hardwood floor (which isn't that fast) up to my room. I hear him stomping after me, and I slam and lock my door. I run into my closet, close its door and try to hide myself in all my clothes.

There's a gunshot, then the door of my room bursts open. I wince in fear and put my hand over my mouth to make my breathing quiet. I hear the light flick on and I squeeze my eyes shut as I hear his footsteps come closer and closer to the closet.

"Frankie?" He says in a sickly sweet tone. "Baby, come out. I only want to play-"

He's cut off by a loud buzzing and ringing coming from my phone.

My phone, which is in the waistband of my pink and white polka-dot panties.

The closet door is swung open and I'm grabbed by the arm. I scream and flail as I'm pushed onto my black sheets. I turn onto my backside and crawl backwards, eventually slamming against my headboard. I'm frozen as I finally get a good look at the man's face. He has a small pointed nose, hazel eyes and a small crooked grin. He's holding a small black backpack, which he has now thrown onto the floor and is on his knees rummaging through it. I suddenly bolt up and run for the door, but I'm only halfway there before there are two strong arms around my waist and stomach, pulling me back to the bed. I'm screaming and kicking at the man as he presses a funny smelling damp cloth onto my mouth and nose. I'm able to scratch at his face a few times before my head starts to fog up and I fall asleep.