Snow White In Chains ((SLOW UPDATES))

CHAPTER FIVE

Lindsey rolled over, stretching her arms across the bed and letting out a loud and drawn out 'yawn'. Her eyes fluttered open, taking in the view above her while not really focusing on anything. Black tiled ceiling stared down at her, the brush stroke pattern in the paint revealing the careful work and craftsmanship. There was no doubt about it; Gerard Way had money. Personally, she never had much. Lindsey was always struggling to get by on whatever cash she had. Growing up, her mother supported her as a single mum working at the paper mill. Her fondest memories were of her mother bringing home little pieces and scraps for her to draw on and create arts and crafts with. Even after coming into control, most of her cash was spent to fuel addictions and just calm her nerves. She never had cash to spare. She wondered what it was like to be him, to have more money to know what to do with, to never worry about when your next meal was going to be and where you'd stay for the night. It was something she couldn't imagine, something she wasn't capable of imagining. It was a completely new concept to her.

She raised her arms, looking at her hands and the red marks around her wrists. Her chains weren't on her for some reason, leaving her arms exposed to the world. They seemed bare and pale, compared to the rest of her scarred and marred flesh covered in artwork and tattoos.

Wait, where were her handcuffs?

Lindsey jolted up into a sitting position, her eyes widening. She looked around until her eyes focused unsteadily on Gerard, still clouded from sleep. He was sitting in a chair across the room, dressed in Batman pyjamas and his hair a mess. One hand held an open copy of Anthony Burgess's 'A Clockwork Orange', while the other dropped to his side, her handcuffs and the key laying on the hardwood floor below. Emotions that she hadn't felt or had reason to feel in years seemed to flood her conscious as she covered her mouth with her hands, tears starting to well up in her eyes. He had sworn on his life that he wouldn't take off the handcuffs. Why now?

"We could run away," Jessicka said, rolling next to Lindsey on the bed, "C'mon, we could run away."
"But he trusts me," Lindsey replied. She gave Jessicka a dirty look before standing up from the bed and crossing her arms, "I'm going to take my meds. I'm not dealing with you."
"Oh shut up, you love me."
"Not like I did yesterday," she snarled, smoothing down her dirty clothes to the best of her ability. She scoffed at Jessicka making faces on the bed and instead decided to walk past the sleeping Gerard, giving him a smile. He looked cute and somewhat innocent with his messy hair and all. Shaking her head and clearing her mind, Lindsey made her way to the kitchen, trying to figure out where Gerard may have possibly hidden her pills.

Bada bing, bada boom.

The bottle of Thorazine was set next to Gerard's bottle of Zoloft. She popped her bottle open, going through the not-so-familiar motions of taking the proper dosage. It was strange, being able to do things by herself. She could choose what to do. She wasn't being told that she had to do this and couldn't do that. She was free.

She set the pill bottle back, smiling triumphantly. Independent. That was the word. She felt independent. As if she could do anything and didn't need any help from some knight in shining armour. Or a detective in Batman pyjamas, no matter how cute he was-

Lindsey paused, looking up and out the window. She flopped down on a stool perched next to the island. Did she? Was she? There was no way in hell. She had sworn off romance years ago. Why now? Why him?

She stared blankly at the Manhattan skyline and ran her hand through her hair, wincing as it got caught in the knots. She needed a shower and a haircut. She hadn't realised how much of a mess she had become during her stint in prison. She felt unclean as she sat in the pristine and spotless kitchen. Gerard prided himself in keeping his penthouse apartment clean and organised. Maybe there was some deeper meaning to it, such as OCD or a personal reason. Maybe Gerard just really didn't like his home being a mess. Surprising, considering the state of his car's backseat, trunk, and glove department. His car was a completely different vessel and completely split from his home or his office at the station. But that was beside the point. She needed to get herself cleaned up and fed.