Vacant Eyes & Butterflies(Frerard)

Chapter 8- Bullets

Chapter 8

 Bullets

I woke up a few hours later, not knowing where I was. Everything felt so fucking nebulous; where was I? And whose bed was I in? Unhurriedly, I sat up, pushing the sheets off my body, still desperately trying to come to my senses. I realized that I was still in Gerard's basement bedroom... but where was Gerard? And how come he didn't wake me up like a fucking normal person and tell me to go home? And Oh fuck, my mom was going to kill me. Fuck.

My body ached; my muscles tender and sore, not to mention the mind-splitting migraine I woke up to, that almost was making my ears ring.

Surely Gerard had to have had Advil or something here to make the pain go away. I rolled over to the other side of the bed where his night stand was; atop it laid multitudinous useless figurines Gerard had cluttered around his room. The top of his black night stand was nearly white, touching the corner I realized that it was a disgusting amount of dust built up, presumably over the years. It appeared as if Gerard had never cleaned anything in his house for as long as he had been living here. Which in turn only arouse more questions in my mind, like where was his mother? Didn't she live here too; surely she couldn't have allowed the house to get this neglected.

I glanced down just a little further and noticed that his nightstand had a little drawer attached. There was probably more meaningless crap stuffed inside, but hey... my head hurt like a motherfucker, and what else was a supposed to do? Carefully, I pulled on the handle, hoping that if Gerard was still here, he wouldn't know that I was going through his things.

But it was stuck.

I moved my body a little closer to the nightstand, wondering if there was a lock and key for it, but there wasn't. It had to have been caught on something, which only made me more curious. At this point it wasn't exactly about me trying to settle my headache anymore, well maybe it was. But I just really fucking wanted to know what Gerard had in his nightstand.

Just when I was about to give up on the nightstand drawer and what was inside it, unexpectedly, the drawer flew open causing some of its contents to fly out. My body went stiff, and I could feel my heart drop to my fucking stomach. If Gerard heard me, I was screwed. I crawled off the bed, in hopes that I could put everything back inside without getting caught and maybe find some Advil along the way, but there were...bullets? Bullets were scattered all over the carpet; they were small, dull and brassy with an ever so slightly pointed tip. And I couldn't fucking breathe.

I gathered all the bullets in a pile on the carpet and scooped them up with my ever so jelly-like hands that couldn't seem to keep fucking still. The bullets rattled against each other in my palms; my breath quickened as I got closer back to the drawer and carefully placed the tiny bullets back inside. There were other things in the drawer too, and that's when shit really hit the fucking fan.

The more and more that I pondered Jamia's mother's death, and Gerard being there, the more everything made sense to me. It was only a matter of time before everything placed itself together in order. There lie in Gerard's nightstand drawer was a small silver semi-automatic pistol. There were easily hundreds of small surface scratches on the weapon. Judging by the appearance of the small pistol, Gerard had acquired it long ago.

I could feel the bile slowing rising up my throat.

I moved the pistol so I could get a better look at what lie underneath.

A beige coloured piece of paper; slightly crumpled, slightly torn and discoloured with age.

 I did my very best to flatten the page out, realizing that there was writing all over it; scribbles almost in black ink. I scanned the page over, and it really didn't make much sense at all.