I Never Told You What I Do For A Living {Frerard}

Fucked Up A Good Pair Of Jeans

I never told you what I do for a living

"Like shit you have the guts to kill me. When did you ever stand up for yourself? You never done anything to stop us, you never even put effort into stopping us from hurting your precious baby brothers, what harm are you gonna do now?"

I smirked, tilting my chair backwards with my hands behind my head and my feet propped up on the table, my eyes on the ceiling, "Are you sure about that first claim? Of course, I didn't do anything when I was younger. Do you know why?" I let silence fall over us for a moment, my eyes travelling away from the ceiling to face one of the many evils of this world.

"Because I was just a kid. A frightened, dumb kid, that didn't know what to do because he knew what was happening to him, to his little brothers, that it wasn't right at all. I was scared, I still am."

I stood up then, walking over to him, one of the men that had made my life a living hell, "But do you know why I have the guts to kill you? Do you know how I could easily end your measly life right now without no problems? Without the guilt that should be weighing me down, drenching me until I can't walk?"

He shook his head, unaware. Of course, the domestically violent ones usually do seem to be dumber than the average intelligence, "Because of you. All of you. You all pushed me to the edge, and when I got away from you- you monsters, I was livid as fuck!" I lashed out, punching his filthy face angrily, hating every single thing about him. I did then, and I still do now.

He laughed at me, his head rolling down so my view of his worthless face was obscured, before rolling his head backwards so he could stare right back at me, "You speak a lot of murdering me darling, but all you've done so far is punch me in the face. Not even hard enough to knock me out." He smirked once more, "Try harder next time, gorgeous."

My skin started to crawl and dragged my nails along the skin of my arm, just trying to get rid if that disgusting feeling.

I turned my back on him, walking back towards my desk and picking up my phone, noticing the text from Frank, asking whether I was too busy to meet up with him today. I smiled a little at the thought if Frank, the fact that the boy still wanted to be friends with me and meet up with me, even after knowing I was some weirdo that was able to break into his home.

I'm a little busy at the moment, but I'll be free around five-ish?

"Are you going to get around to killing me or what, you dick!" My head snapped up to face him, glaring at how awful of a human being he is, "Or are you too scared to do it all by yourself that you need a little friend of yours to help you out?" He smirked again, and I lost it, my hand finding the knife that was laying on the table and I lunged forwards.

The knife sunk into his thigh, hitting bone halfway through before I pulled it out, plunging it back into his other thigh, both stabs causing loud, anguish-filled cries, whimpers and moans then following them, "You need to learn when to stop, don't you, darling? You've had that problem through most of your life though, I don't think it will stop within the last thirty or so minutes of your life."

"No no, please don't do this, it wasn't me, it was all the others, they forced me to-"

He was cut off mid sentence by my fist connecting with his jaw once more, his whimpers and whines getting more and more annoying with each second that passed by, "Gerard, I promise, I didn't want to hurt-" His prolonged scream echoes through the room as I drag the knife from his left shoulder to his right hip, a jagged path left behind and blood oozing from the deep cut.

A wicked smile made it's way onto my face as he cried out from the pain, "Y'know what?" I asked, grabbing him by the hair and dragging his head up so he would look me in the eye, he looked like he was about to pass out, the pain being too much for him to handle, "I heard that from the last two of your friends that I killed."

He continued to struggle against the ropes that were holding him in place, cries of pain every few seconds when he would move his legs or twist his torso a little too much, the searing pain hitting him in waves. Every time that he thought the pain was about to die down and he was going to be numb, it hit him all over again and all at once, the intensity almost too much for him.

"Do y'know what?" I asked, hoping for him to be in a cheery enough mood for a reply to what I asked, but he seemed to be too busy with his wounds that he totally ignored me, "Excuse me?!" I yelled, grabbing him by his jaw and yanking his face up to make sure he was watching me, "I expect a fucking answer when you're prompted. Remember how you always used to do this to me?"

He shook his head, his vanity obviously getting to him, so I sighed and slammed my fist into his face once more before bringing myself face to face with him again, "No? You don't remember beating the crap out of a kid then coming up close in his face and demanding a lighthearted conversation out of him? You don't remember that at all? Not even a tiny bit?"

"Oh well, no one will remember you, either." I giggled, "Anyway, as I was saying before you rudely ignored my question, you know what I'm actually gonna do?"

He shook his head frantically, the pure fear was easily read in his eyes, the uncertainty that he showed was astounding. He had no idea what I was planning on doing next, and that feeling gave me pure joy. I was now in control, I have now got full power over this man that made me how I am today. And for which, I will be forever grateful, honestly.

"I'm bored. I don't really like you, you're not as fun as the others, I'll end your life now." I stated monotonously, hoping that he could really pick up on just how much I hadn't enjoyed my time with him tonight, "I was hoping for something better, but I guess you're always going to be a disappointment. Born a failure die a failure."

I shrug and take my knife once again, doing another deep wound running from his right shoulder to his left hip this time, revelling in his scream before I actually did kill him, gliding my knife across his throat effortlessly, watching the blood pour out from the opening and the blood dripping out of his mouth.

I turned back around, wiping some of the blood off of my hands and onto my grey jeans, fucking them up in the process of picking up my phone and texting Frank back.

Hey, I can meet up a little earlier if you would like?