The Sharpest Lives

Chapter Twenty: Blood And Insanity

[Gerard]

A lot of things had happened in the past hour. So many things had happened, in fact, that I was honestly surprised that I hadn't broken down again. Or maybe I was just a ticking time bomb now…maybe my subconscious mind was hidden, waiting for the moment when it would collapse in on itself, and bring me down with it.

In the meantime, I had a lot to think about.

One of these many things, was what Matt had said to me when he decided to show his face.

I ran over the whole thing in my head, still trying to work out what exactly had happened. It had to be one of the many terrible moments of my life.

* * *

He grinned, showing a set of yellow, diseased teeth that would make any dentist scream. I couldn't fully process what he'd just said to me, because my damaged brain cells were still trying to figure out what the fuck he was doing here in the first place.

He at least allowed me a minute to blink at him, dazed, until I realized what his being here meant.

Of course he took advantage of my confused vulnerability while he could.

He patted the seat next to him, the smile still on his face, his eyes inviting me over. No, not inviting. It was an order. It was always an order with Matt. If he didn't get his way, he would do anything to convince you.

Anything.

Numbly, only partially aware of what I was doing, I shuffled forwards, my movements jerky and stiff, as if my bones were held together with concrete. I lowered myself slowly into the seat, wincing as the cold metal touched my skin through the thin fabric of the hospital gown. I sat with clasped hands and knees drawn together, my head bowed as if in shame. I bore the posture of a child, as if I was waiting for my punishment. That wasn't right-I knew I should have been telling Matt to go crawl right back into the  fiery depths of hell- but I honestly had no idea what to do. I'd imagine the scene a few times; my short, witty speech that would crush his ego like road-kill and guarantee that he would finally leave me alone. But now, it was pretty obvious that it wouldn't end up that way. I would be lucky if I made it through this without completely embarrassing myself…

"So," he began his voice at a normal volume, but still managing to make me flinch and my head hurt, "they finally threw you into the psycho ward, huh?"

"I put myself here," I said, quietly, bitterly. I probably should have disagreed.

But I figured I should just stop lying. It wasn't helping anyone, least of all me.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence that I was too afraid to end. I didn't want to continue the conversation, but I knew I had to.

Words were coming back to me, words I'd written and spoken not long ago…

'Saviour of the broken, the beaten and the damned…'

Even though I'd written this as part of a story, a greater concept that I had devised and was proud of, I had slowly believed them. That I could be a 'saviour'.  That I could save the kids that listened to us. That I could be the one who could change lives.

How could I believe that being as messed up as I am? I'm only human.

Human…I wonder if the damage I'd done would be too hard to fix. I'd come close to acting like some arrogant prick of a demigod. I had to believe that I was human. I had to convince others that I had my flaws, and my own terrible, terrible mistakes. That way we could all be on the same page. That way I could know where to start when it came to fixing myself.