I Have Friends in Holy Spaces

14: Gerard Becomes Melanie Martinez And Licks A Knife Like A Damn Psychopath

  The next time I opened my eyes, I was engulfed into darkness; well, not that much darkness since a dim light hung above me, looking as if it would drop and hit my head in any minute. The room was eerily lit due to that light, failing to reach in the farthest corners where a silhouette hid, cloaked in the shadows.

   I took in my surroundings or lack of it and tried to stand up, only to be brought back down; my hands were tied to the back of the chair I was placed in. The ropes were tightly done and dug into my skin, I felt blood start to run down my wrist and drip onto the floor.

  "Are you done struggling yet?" The silhouette spoke and my eyes darted toward the left corner where it sat. It soon stood up and walked into the light, revealing Father Way, as if I didn't already know beforehand. In his right hand, he gripped a knife and my stomach dropped, fearful of what he was going to do with it. He noticed my change in demeanor and followed my gaze to the knife. Father Way raised it up for him to see and turned it around in his hand, smiling very slightly, "Ah, I see...not a fan of knives I gather?" 

  Trying my best to glare at him and failing, my voice was hushed as I said, "Who is?" "I am, Frankie," his voice sounded very enthusiastic as he said that and walked in circles around me, a slight jump to his step. I watched him as he walked and he did the same, our eyes never leaving the other.

I moved my wrist against the chair once again, the ropes going deeper into my skin and I winced, inhaling sharply. The Father noticed and smirked, "Have a thing for pain, don't you, Frankie?" "Not particularly," I struggled to move my wrists once again, groaning at the pain. His smirk then evolved in a grin as he stopped in front of me, squatting down to my eye level.

   "But that's a lie, Frankie," he clicked his tongue and shook his head, "Why would you lie to me? I'm the only one here, you don't have to protect your precious image." Father Way then raised the knife and slowly placed the blade on my jugular. I tried to move backwards against it to create some space between the blade and I, but like a cheetah, Father Way jumped up and sat on my lap, pressing the blade further. He leaned in scolding me as he did so, "Now why would you try and dodge the knife? It only wants to say hello."

   My eyes never left the blade; the metal felt cold against my neck and I was scared out of my mind, but I didn't show it and I wondered how on Earth I looked so coolheaded. The blade moved, tickling my neck but not scratching it; my breath hitched. "Don't you like this? The thrill of placing a killing object on the place where it could kill you? The question of whether or not it will hanging in the air, the adrenaline, the way your heart beats faster and faster by the second? Isn't it intoxicating?" His breath tickled my lips and he moved against me, trying to create some friction between us.

   Father Way lifted the blade off of my jugular, but kept the point on me. He then proceeded to trail it down from neck to my chest, placing it on my heart. "Mmm, now this is a dangerous place to put it isn't it?" He looked down at the knife and then averted his gaze back to mine and cocked his head to the side, a fraction of a sneer evident on his face. "What if I just," he pushed the point in a bit, breaking the skin and I inhaled sharply.

    An appeased grin danced along his lips as he said, "Yes, Frankie. I love that sound! Do it again." And as he finished the sentence he pushed the point in again and carved a line in my chest, I let out a stifled groan and a content hum elicited from the Father's mouth.

   "You're such a tease," he giggled mockingly like a schoolgirl, "I haven't done anything yet and you're turning me on, naughty naughty naughty." He moved against me once more and then proceeded to lift up my shirt and look at what he's done so far. There was a cut that was probably a few inches long, but it wasn't deep though it still bled plenty. Father Way raised his hand and poked the cut skin with his index finger and I bit my cheek to keep from screaming in pain.