The Man I Know I'm Not [Frerard] (Sequel To Tell Me I'm A Bad Man)

Fourteen - You're A Regular Decorated Emergency

Humming to myself, I fished into my back pocket for my key, while trying not to drop any of the groceries. I inserted the key into the lock, my tongue poking out, and I unlocked the door, stepping in.

Gerard and Bert were both out; Gerard at college and Bert with a friend, maybe Jeph or something. But it didn't matter, because for once I was glad to have the house to myself. I had gotten some groceries, and planned on cleaning the house and maybe even calling my mom to see how she was doing.

All of that shattered when I turned on the light and saw the mess.

Paintings had been knocked askew, and the lamp that sat in the hall had been swept to the floor. Glass shards had settled into the carpet like mites, and I sidestepped them carefully as I entered the living room.

The couch cushions had been flung around, the coffee table kicked over, the flowers that Gerard sometimes drew tossed carelessly to the floor. The blinds had been shut, blocking out all light, and I peered into the kitchen, grawing on my lower lip.

The coffee jar was smashed on the floor, granules surrounding it as if it was an ants' nest. I set the bags of groceries on the counter, putting the fridge and freezer stuff away in case I needed to go out, and I was on my way out of the room when I saw one of the cupboard doors ajar. With my foot, I opened it fully, frowning at the lack of alcohol. There was always alcohol in that cupboard - whether it was Bert's, or Gerard's for a very special occasion (once in a blue moon), or even mine...but it was almost empty. I could've sworn that it had been full when I left earlier.

In the bathroom, nothing had been touched. Clearly whoever had been through here hadn't felt the need to start throwing shampoo around. But Bert's room had been trashed; his duvet was on the floor, the contents of the trash can dumped onto the carpet, two or three drawers emptied. I was pretty sure my lip was bleeding as I went into mine and Gerard's room, and my heart sank.

The photos that were on my nightstand had been thrown against the wall, my friends and boyfriend staring at the ceiling through spiderweb cracks. Our clothes, mainly mine, had been ripped from the closet, and the duvet, which I'd neatly made this morning, had been completely tossed to the floor.

There was glass in one corner, surrounding a dark stain in the carpet. I knew at once by the label on the bottle that it was some sort of gin. My stomach twisted, and my hands shook. I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialled Gerard's number, beyond freaked out by now. Someone had smashed up the house (bar the bathroom) and nobody was here.

"Hey, Gerard here, sorry I can't take your call right now, but leave me a message and I'll try and get back to you. Bye!"

I chewed at the skin around my thumbnail, surveying the mess around me. It wasn't too bad, nothing I couldn't clean up in an hour or so with some music blaring through the house, but I was still freaked out. It was not like this when I'd left two hours ago.

I found my fingers dialling Bert's number, but he didn't reply either. I tried Gerard once more, and again, but got no reply, leaving me almost frantic.

There was a torn photo on the pillows, and when I walked closer, I saw that it was one of Gerard and I. It wasn't even ripped in half - it was ripped following where Gerard and I were joined - at the mouth, of course - separating us completely.

Tears blurred my vision as I sank onto the bed, my ears straining for noises, for signs that I wasn't alone. The only people that had keys to the house were Gerard, Bert and me. There was no indication at all that anyone had broken in, so...