I Remember You - Frerard

Seven

"Goodnight, sweetheart." I whispered to Bandit as I turned off the light of her bedroom and made my way downstairs, leaving her bedroom door slightly open, because she feels safer when it's slightly open.

I made my way into the kitchen and pressed the button for the coffee machine to warm up. I placed a cup that I got from Frank in the machine and Bandit's favorite Lion King mug under it.

As I went to the living room with the steaming cup of coffee in my hand, my eye caught the sketchbook Frank gave me back, laying on the kitchen table. I picked it up in a swift movement and went to sit on the couch, holding the book tightly to my body as I sat the mug on the coffee table.

I took a long breath in and a long one out. I opened the first page to see a drawing of a person hanging from a rope, their features quite similar to what I used to look like in high school, or at least, how I saw myself in high school. I started randomly flicking through the page, but stopped at one particular drawing I could remember perfectly.

"Hey, fatty, whatcha drawing? Dicks?" He spoke in a somewhat kind voice. His arm was wrapped around Jamia's waist as he inched his head forward to catch a glimpse of the drawing of a vampire world I was drawing. "Jamia, honey, why don't you go see your friends?" He spoke in an even kinder voice. It was loving. I wish he spoke to me like that... No, damn. I can't afford myself to think like that...

"You haven't used a school toilet, recently, have you?" I slowly shook my head.

"No." I whimper.

"Why are you whimpering? Are you scared? Are you a pussy? If you are, you'd be a fat pussy. Too unpussy-like.

Suddenly I was lifted at both arms, my feet not even being able to touch the ground as they carried me to the bathrooms. I stopped fighting back against their actions a long, long time ago.

"Oh damn, fatty, you got some cake on your face. Or it's come. Either way, it is quite gross. Here, let me help you wash it off." He said as he pushed me down to my knees, in front of the toilet bowl. I sighed and even leaned forward, already holding my breath.

My face hit the surface of the water and even though I held my breath, the water still got into my body somehow when the toilet was being flushed. And again. And again. My -actually too long- hair was being pulled tightly with the water stream as it went down the toilet.

Once the bell ran, they thought I'd had enough flushes already -seven- and made their way to their classes.

I on the other hand, once again fled. But I did not go home. I went to the woods in stead, where I would get lost and no one would find me until I was dead.

I ripped the page out of the sketchbook and ripped it to small pieces, tears streaming down my face at the memory that just played in my mind.

I kicked, into nothing I thought, and hit the coffee table hard, knocking it over, together with the coffee itself.

The coffee left a brown stain on the white carpet, though I could not be bothered by it. I grabbed my keys from the kitchen counter and made my way to the car. I was sure to lock the door, though, so Bandit couldn't go out and some stranger couldn't take my electronics, or -more important- Bandit.

I was lost in my thoughts as I drove around the town. I glanced over at the clock in my dashboard. 8PM, it showed. I made a mental promise to myself to be home at 10.

"How are you feeling today, Gerard?" Her too calm voice asked me. "Has this week been a good one?"

"Yes." I replied. Determined. "It's been a terrific week. I got beaten up, as you can see by the horrendous bruises on my face and neck, I got shoved into my locker again and the janitor was the only one willing to save me at 5PM, I relapsed on Monday and I failed another suicide attempt on Thursday." I told her, with a big smile on my face as if I was proud of what happened. "Also, I got an enormous crush on the guy who always beats me up, so that's kinda nice, I guess. At least I know I'm not completely dead inside."

I looked at her from my lazy chair as she jotted down everything I said in her extremely messy handwriting. "I don't see how writing something down in that handwriting will inform the doctors about my mental state." I said, crunching up my nose a little.

"And how are you currently feeling?" She asked, again her voice was too calm for my liking.

"I feel like complete and utter shit, but hey, that's just a side effect of depressing isn't it?" I snickered.

"Gerard, I want you to go to the desk and give them this paper. Do everything the woman tells you to do without struggling against her orders, okay?" She asked me, pressing my file in my hands. She immediately grabbed her phone, probably to inform someone about what was going to happen.

I gave the woman behind the desk my file and she read the first page. "Ah, Gerard, you will be taken away from your home situation. Follow me to your new room."

The shocked expression on my face was obvious as I quickly ran out of the building. I ignored my bike and ran all the miles home, away from that place. Fuck bikes. Fuck therapists. Fuck that mental institution.

As lost in my thoughts as I was, I found myself exiting the car in front of the house I found myself a few days earlier as well.

I knocked on the door, slightly scared of who lived behind it and what his response would be of me, standing on his porch in the rain. The man opened the door and a smile grew on his face.

But, before he could open his mouth, he was greeted by my voice. Thick of tears and sadness. "How could you? I was just a silent kid who never did anything to you. I never bothered you. I never hurt you. I never did anything to you and you treated me like garbage. I hate you, but the crush I had on you back then is still there. I hate you for messing around with my head like this. I hate you for physically and mentally hurting me all those years." I slammed him onto the wall next to the door, not being able to control myself and my actions.

I pressed my lips on his pretty, pale lips with more force than I intended. After a second, I felt him beginning to kiss back. At this feeling I pulled back and muttered another "I hate you" as I quickly ran over to my car.

"Gerard! Gerard, look! It's a girl! She's so beautiful." Lindsey spoke as she held the newborn baby in her arms.

"Ugh," I groaned. "I'm sure she's going to rob me like she's some badass bandit."

"I actually like that name." Lindsey quietly spoke to the baby, not wanting to face me. "It suits her. Bandit."

"Phew, I swear, for a moment I thought you were going to name out little Bandit badass." I said on a sarcastic tone, the tone that always made her giggle, no matter how she felt. I leant over the hospital bed to kiss her on those beautiful lips with faint red lipstick from the day before.

God, I love her.

I slammed my head onto the steering wheel. I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself. Why did I kiss him? I don't know. Why do I still have feelings for him? I don't know.

All I know that nothing is going to change my feelings for him.

Exterminate.