I'm Really Just Asking To Leave

I'm Really Just Asking To Leave - Chapter 25 - Vases and Parties

•••Chapter 25•••

•••Casey/Gerard's POV•••

"It's been three days, Casey," the guy said. "Aren't you getting tired?"

I ignored him.

"I mean, you've got to give it all up some time soon."

"You and I both know I won't," I replied, spitting out blood afterwards.

He laughed. "Everyone gives up."

I imitated his laugh in a mocking way. "Everyone except me."

His face turned serious. "Everyone."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm not really here because I've apparently been giving away secrets, am I?"

He swiped a piece of sandpaper across his knife so fast it left a slicing sound echoing through the room. "Bright one, aren't you? Of course you're not in here because of that, do you think we're stupid? Those songs are nothing more than 'feelings' written down on a page... I'll admit it was quite clever, putting up a façade like that. People probably just think you're a soppy emotional guy with too many feelings, but we know who you really are." He ran the blade from my neck up to my chin, cutting into it shallowly. "And it's not Casey Smith."

"Oh yeah?"

"We'd have to be utterly retarded to not know your real name, considering your face is plastered everywhere one could look. Do you enjoy knowing ten year old girls look up to you?"

I kept my head down.

"Do you enjoy knowing that your music causes so much pain? Do you take pride in the fact that your meaningless words drive people into depression?"

I bit my tongue. If I said something, it would only make things worse.

"Do you take joy in knowing that people might even... kill themselves, because of it? Was it your intention to create this cult-like religion that revolves singly around you? One might even call it... a suicide cult."

"That was a stupid story," I muttered.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" he asked joyfully, leaning forward.

"It was a stupid story," I said more confidently. "This music doesn't take lives, it saves them."

He laughed bitterly. "Music doesn't save lives. People just like to hope it does," he said, running the blade across my cheek. "It just forces people to lock up their deepest feelings," he continued, driving the blade across my other cheek. "Leaving it to fester and boil inside of them, until one day it all gets to much... then... BANG!" He made a sudden sharp movement with the blade, slicing deeply into my lips. "They snap."

Metallic liquid quickly filled my mouth. I spat it out, sending a river of blood sailing down my shirt and onto my jeans. It dripped onto the floor slowly, making small splashing sounds.

"And you know what happens after that? They kill themselves. Why? Because of something stupid, such as getting dumped," he sneered, bending down so he was in my face.

I snapped. I couldn't help myself, I just had to.

I head-butted him as hard as I could. There was a loud crunch just as his head flew back.

Not seeming to be hurt, he smiled. "Okay, I'll give you that one."

I smiled back. "Cheers, mate."

"S'fine."

His face turned serious. "Anyway! Back to the torture."

•••Mikey's POV•••

It had been two days since it happened. Two days since Frank had gotten himself dragged away by the CIA. After the alarms had sounded, he told us to run and act like we didn't know anything. So we did.