The Sharpest Lives (frerard)

Broken

Mikey Way

Red. That's all I see as I stand over the body. I raise my shaky hands to study them. Also red. The ground around the body is a dark burgundy puddle, its scent rising up and catching my nostrils again.

I just killed this man.

Oh my god.

He's dead. Because of me.

Cold, sharp tears slide down my cheeks in a cascade, filling my eyes so that I can't see anything. Everything is a blurry haze of black and blue and red, the colours mixing together.

I look around at the bushland I'm in, gasping and trying to breathe through the galleons of tears.

This man I didn't even know is dead because of me. I'm a murderer. I drank his blood and killed him.

I need to get out of here. I need to leave this bloodstained place and go home. Home to Gerard. He'll understand, right? He'll know that I only did it because this man was bleeding in the first place. That I couldn't help myself.

That's what he'll think, right? Or will he think that I did it because I wanted to kill someone? Will he think that I've changed? That I'm now a murderer?

I turn, my heart beating, my vision blurry, and run, leaving the dead man's body behind.

My feet take me away from the murder scene, but the scent of the fresh blood still sticks to me like a curse. Tears stream down my face as I pass street by street, a single thought playing through my head like a broken record:

I killed a man.

I killed a man.

I killed a man.

After what feels like a decade, I stumble up the driveway of the moonlit house. I see a mellow light shine through the glass next to the door as I turn the handle weakly.

As soon as the door opens I drop to the ground, tears streaming down my face. My mouth opens in a silent scream as I remember the events of tonight.

I killed a man.

"Mikey!" Moms muffled voice is only just audible. A high pitched ringing pierces through my brain, and my vision becomes filled with small black dots dancing around the room. Two strong hands grab my shoulders, hoisting me upwards.

"Oh my god, Mikey!" Gerard voice now yells out to me, making me look up.

"Gerard...?" I murmur weakly, seeing his fear-stricken face through the crowd of black dots covering my vision. He kneels down next to me, his fingers caressing my bloody chin. He brings his now blood-covered finger up to his mouth.

"Gerard! Stop!" Mom yells at Gerard as he licks his finger clean, his eyes lighting up as the human blood enters his mouth. Moms arms wrap around his waist, pulling him back as I watch, horrified.

"Go... wash yourself up." Mom tells me, Gerard's eyes still glued to the blood on my face. "I'll be up there in a minute. And Frank..." Mom says, turning to a wide-eyed boy standing in the corner of the room. What the hell is Frank doing here? "You should probably leave as well." She looks down at Gerard, then back over to Frank.

"Uh, ok..." Frank mutters, fear radiating off his voice. I stand up shakily, my vision blurring up again. I glance over to Gerard, watching his wild eyes follow me all the way to the stairway. His face reflects desire and craving for the blood I spilt tonight, but I can also see past that. I can see a confused teenager whos disgusted at himself for wanting human blood so badly that he'd kill for it.