Fear Asylum

Some Surprises Can't Be Kept Hidden(Ch. 5)

There was an awful amount of noise in Graham Stockholm's room. He wearily rose from his bed and rubbed his eyes. "Who could it be?" He thought. He got off his bed and a fist connected with his face. It hit him full blast; both the surprise of happening, and the sheer force of the punch. As he stumbled backward, he could feel two things: the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, and the swelling around his eyes. The voice helped Graham recognize who it was.

"That's for getting me fired!"

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I walked into the institute and waved to Nancy. She waved back and told me she had taken care of Matt. I smiled knowing that Graham would be safe now. I had a few surprises for him, too. One, I was wearing my own Black Parade shirt, two, I brought food, and three, I got him a pack of special art pencils for his drawings. I walked into my room and found the keys to Gray's room. I unlocked the door, but I couldn't find him.

"Gray?" I called out. "Gray, are you there?" There was a rustle in the bathroom, then someone cursing.

"Uh. I'm in the bathroom." Gray said. Relief swept through me, but then I heard a hiss of pain, a crash, and a yell.

"Gray! Are you okay?" I banged on the door, nervousness and concern consuming me. My banging caused the door to open, and I fell into Graham's arms. I blushed and looked at his face. Even though he was smiling I could still see the bruises on his face. "Oh no, Gray! What happened?" I said, leading him downstairs to the medical facility. His left eye was purple, and swollen shut, his lip had been cut, and he had dried blood on his face.

"Matt came to my room last night. He kicked my ass for getting him fired, but I didn't do anything." He answered.

"This is all my fault, Graham! After what happened yesterday, I told Nancy. She fired Matt. Oh, I'm so sorry Gray! It's my fault you're hurt!" I cried.

"No, it's not. I'm happy that you told Nancy. Now Matt can't do this anymore. I barely left my room because of him. It's not your fault." He said.

"Oh, dear!" Said the lady who was at the medical facility. "What happened to you, Graham?"

"Matt beat him up after he was fired last night." I said, guiding Gray to the table. He sat on it, and she looked him over.

"I never liked that boy. The first day I saw him, I knew he was bad news." She said.

"Same here." I mumbled.

"Speaking of first days, wasn't yesterday your first?" She asked and I nodded. She tended to Gray's wounds and continued without looking at me. "I'm May. I'm the only one here at the medical facility."

"Really? You take care of all this by yourself?" I asked.

"Yes, but Graham here, is often down here helping me." She said.

"Wow, Gray. That's really sweet of you!" I said. He just sat there and smiled, but I could feel him saying "It's not like I have much else to do." I looked at him, but his lips didn't move. How is he doing that? Or is he doing that at all? This crazy old building must be getting to me. After his wounds were taken care of, we walked back up to his room.

"Hey you're wearing a Black Parade shirt!" He said staring at my shirt. "Wait a sec." He smiled. He ran to his closet and closed the door. After a few seconds, he came back in his own Black Parade shirt. "Ta-da!" He said in a voice that mirrored Gerard's voice. I laughed and he sat down on his bed.

"So you love My Chem, sound like Gerard, and even look like him, too!" I said laughing.

"What are you talking about, Icelynn? Gerard doesn't have red hair." He said, running his hand through his own blazing hair.

"Well," I said, searching through my phone for a picture of Danger Days Gerard. "Actually he did for awhile." I said showing him the picture.

"Woah." He gasped. "I do look like him."

"That's actually my favorite Gerard era."

"Really?" He said, eyes wide looking straight at me. I nodded. "Cool." He walled over to his desk and grabbed a notebook. He walked back over to me as I sat down on his bed. He sat down and handed me the book and I looked through it. There was a picture of a cat, a house in the middle of the woods, and one made me stop. It was a picture of an older lady sitting on an old ratty couch. She had gray hair, and a soft, sweet smile on her face. Below her, on a discolored rug, was Graham and a seven year old boy. He had brown hair, and eyes to match it. He had a great grin just like Graham, and was looking up at him with happy, excited eyes. Graham also had a smile on his face, and was moving his piece on the Monopoly board they were playing on.

"Gray?" He looked over. "What's this one about?"

"It's me. And my mom." He paused, and his voice cracked when he said it. "And my brother, Jimmy." I put my hand on his arm, and looked into his hazel eyes as he looked into mine.

"What happened? Why are you here, Gray?"

"I was convicted of killing my mom and kidnaping my brother. Then I was convicted of killing Jimmy in the woods. Manslaughter." He paused looking at his hands. "I was accused of manslaughter. Of my brother? The one I loved so much?" He stared straight at the two-way mirror. "But I did do it. I did. It was me. I killed my brother. And my mother." When he finished, he put his face back in his hands. What? Something is horribly wrong here. I don't believe that for a second. Gray couldn't do something like that. I've seen people who would, could, and have murdered their family. Graham just doesn't fit in with that group.

"I know. I really don't." Came Graham's voice. He was at his desk, and he had continued to sketch.

"Wait? How is he doing that?" I thought.

"I'm telepathic, or something. Don't make eye contact with me. Or they'll know something's up. Just get a book and write some notes or something. Get busy." His voice made its way straight to my brain. "But I've never had anyone respond back to me. You're the first."

"Oh my god. H-how?" I asked.

"I'm not sure, but have you been able to do anything like that?" He asked.

"I-I don't know. I remember being really good at games that were like 'What am I thinking of tight now?' and 'Which hand is the thing in?'."

"That's exactly what I mean."