Devil's Work (Frerard / Priest!Gerard)

Fifteen

Fifteen

The first time I was arrested was when I was twelve years old. Back in the days of my spiked up hair with this one ridiculous blonde streak in the front that made me look like your typical skater-wannabe. This hairdo had been abolished once I turned thirteen and started to convert to band t-shirts, black skinny jeans and piercings.

My first arrest had been for shoplifting a can of coke and a packet of maltesers (a share bag, mind you) from the local newsagents. The first time this had occurred they had let me off with a warning and a threat to clean up my act, maybe pick some better friends, that sort of thing. To be fair at the time I was hanging around with kids two years older than myself, the same kids who got me into smoking and drinking beer in the park. Then again they hadn't been all bad - they'd lent me spray paints and introduced me to the likes of Slipknot, Marilyn Manson and other heavy or classic rock bands that still filled my headphones long after we stopped hanging around together, and I opted for befriending Pete instead.

The second time had been getting into a fight out in public when I was almost thirteen, and that one had gone down on my record. I didn't exactly care all that much though.

The list went on, and with each arrest I became more accustomed to the ways in which the police worked. What they charged you for, how best to sweet talk the officers and even what questions you should and shouldn't answer. So when me and Lynz were all but dragged into the police station, I was composed and collected.

When we were told to sit down in an interview room, It almost felt homely, at the least familiar.

When the same two officers walked in with cups of coffee in their hands, I already knew there was no chance of us getting a cup.

When they say down I merely waited for them to make the first move, whilst Lynz watched me cautiously from the corner of her eye, obviously praying I had some sort of plan.

"State your names and ages please" the officer with the beard ordered, and I complied.

"Frank Iero, 17."

"Lynz Ballato, 17."

"Same school year?" He asked, to which we both nodded. "You're school friends then?" We both nodded again.

"Care to tell us why you were vandalising the garden and exterior of the house belonging to a miss Angela Morrison?" The other officer, who had a receding hairline and glasses, asked us both in a monotone voice.

"To be honest officer, it was my fault" I declared, ignoring the look of shock that Lynz was giving me and instead focusing on the one of belief that the two men were showing. They'd expected as much. "Lynz here was upset because Angela was being rude and insulting towards her, and so I took matters into my own hands."

"Oh I see" The bearded officer raised an eyebrow "you were trying to impress the girl, show her that you were there for her, that you could protect her." His voice was so patronising I wanted to punch him square in the jaw, but I knew how bad that would look. No amount of sweet talk would get me out of that one. Part of me wanted to tell him I was gay just to shut him up, but I figured it would suit the story better.

"Something like that" I shrugged, letting them make their own assumptions.

"Right, well you two are both aware that you've broken the law, not only by trespassing on private property but by vandalising a woman's home?" We both nodded for the third time.

"Just tell us wether she's going to press charges or not" I crossed my arms. If she was then I would have I expand my story and try to think of some way to shift the blame to a third party.