The Name of the Game

Chapter 21

Gerard threw open his bedroom door. Mikey spun around from the window. "Gee!" he cried. "I saw you pull up in a fucking cop car, what the hell happened out there?!"

Gerard yanked one of his desk drawers open so hard that it broke, falling onto the floor. The pistol he kept hidden there dropped onto the carpet. He grabbed it, checking to see if it was loaded.

"Woah, hey!" Mikey ran over to his brother. "What are you doing?!"

"Mikey, I need you to get out of my way," Gerard said.

"No! You've lost your mind, Gerard, and I'm not gonna let you do whatever the fuck it is you think you're gonna do."

"I gotta shoot him," Gerard said. "I gotta shoot him-"

"Shoot who?"

"Dad."

"Gerard!" Mikey cried. "No, you're crazy. You can't do that. No matter what happened, you can't shoot him."

"He killed Frank!"

Mikey's eyes grew wide, and his mouth fell open. "H-He did what?"

"Exactly," Gerard said, his voice shaking. He went to push past his brother, but Mikey stood firm.

"No, wait, Gee," Mikey said. He held his hand out. "Give me the gun."

"No."

"You're gonna regret this. I'm not gonna let you shoot him."

"Mikey-"

"I know," Mikey said quietly. "I heard you. But you aren't going to make this any better if you do this. You'll just be as bad as he is. So just stop. Give me the gun."

Gerard looked at the weapon in his hand. It was sleek, and the weight comforted him. He stroked the trigger.

"Gerard..."

"Fine." Gerard held it out to his brother, who snatched it quickly. Mikey put the gun in Gerard's bedside table.

"Mikes?" Gerard whispered.

"What is it?"

"I watched him die." Gerard sat down on his bed and buried his head in his hands. He felt the tears come quickly. At this point, it was nothing new. "And I couldn't do anything!"

Mikey wrapped Gerard in a hug. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I am so, so sorry. I know how you felt about him."

Gerard shook his head. "No," he said. "I-I loved him, Mikey. And I should have told him that. And now he'll never know."

"Gee?"

"What?"

"I think he knew."

-

Mr. Iero was sitting on the couch. He held Linda's dainty fingers in one hand and the TV remote in the other. He was changing the channels slowly, waiting for something to pop up that he or his wife could enjoy. He would ask Linda for her input, but she was admiring her red leaf.

He had just reached the true crime channels when his doorbell rang. He reached behind the couch for the knife, hiding it behind his back. He pulled the door open, only to find two policemen standing in front of him. He noticed that they were state police, and tightened his grip on the handle of the knife. He knew who owned the state force.

"How can I help you?" asked Mr. Iero.

"Are you Mr. Frank Iero Sr.?" asked one of the men.

"I am."

"We're here to inform you of a shooting," said the man.

Mr. Iero's heart dropped. "Involving?"

"Your son. Can you confirm that this is him?" The other officer pulled a wallet from his pocket. He flipped it open, revealing Frank's driver's license.