Gerard’s POV
//Gerard Way, a teenage boy from New Jersey is wanted by police. The head of the police department in that area tells us more. “Gerard has already viciously killed two of the people involved in the attack on him and his brother, which left his brother; who was also confirmed as his boyfriend; in a coma. We believe him to be suffering from serious mental issues and he is extremely dangerous. All of the other boys except Ryan Sykes who took part in the attack have gone into police protection. Now if anyone has seen him or sees him do not approach he is armed with a six inch knife, call the police immediately and lock all doors and windows. Who knows what he is capable of?”//
“Armed and extremely dangerous,” are my middle names I said to myself while gently swaying in front of the mirror.
I was admiring the large scar across my eye which I had picked up that day. After pulling my knife out of its sheath which was strapped to my waist I rolled up my shirt sleeve. While holding the knife I ran the back of my hand across my scarred arm. I pulled the blade across my skin, a crimson liquid burst out of its trail. I repeated the action several times; not reacting to the pain but found it joyful, I always felt this way when I hurt someone and if there was no one else around then my arm had to do.
“I won’t stop until every homophobic, hating fucker has been wiped from the planet,” I screamed.
I froze at the sound of someone weeping. I licked my knife clean before heading towards the sound; my bare feel stepping into the pools of blood left by the dead corpses of the previous owners of the house. Reaching the door of the cupboard I pressed my ear against the cool wood. The sound was defiantly coming from within; I ripped the door open. There on the floor was a small crying male child aged about six.
“Oh don’t cry little one,” I shushed hiding the knife behind my back.
“B-but y-you killed my parents,” he said rubbing his eyes.
“No no no no, they’re only sleeping,” I said reassuringly.
“But you’re covered in blood,” he squealed.
“That’s my own blood,” the boy stood up in front of me, he raised my sleeve and gasped.
“Who did that to you?” he asked genuinely concerned.
“I did,” I said bluntly causing the boy to step back.
“Wh-why?” he asked.
“Because pain is good,” I smiled. “Do you want me to show you?” I said revealing the knife from behind my back.
He violently shook his head while attempting edging away from me as I stepped nearer. Without warning the boy tried to run for it but I grabbed him around the waste and lifted him off his feet. His frantic screaming and kicking filled my with laughter; I revelled it, the moment when the stupid fools still believe they have a chance of escape. After throwing him to the floor I pinned him down.
“My cousin will get you for this,” he screamed.
“And who’s your cousin?” I asked waiting to add him to my list of people to kill.
“Ryan Sykes,” he squealed still trying to escape my gip.
The joy turned to rage, the fun ended. I was going to be kind to this boy, kill him quicker than I normally would. But he was a relative of Ryan and he would pay dearly. I brought my blade down and pushed it into the flesh of his hand. He screamed and shook.
“Ahh you see little one. If it weren’t for you dear cousin Ryan I wouldn’t be doing this. He made me what I am. You have him to thank for what will happen next,” I scowled.
Tears were streaming down the boys face at an impossible speed. I pulled the knife out of his hand and dragged it across his face causing him to scream and cry more. I made several more cuts on his face and bare arms, each of them bleeding large amounts and after three minutes he started to give up, he knew there was no escape. I used my blade to remove his ‘Thomas the Tank engine’ T-shirt, he gave me a desperate look of ‘please don’t do this’ as I ripped it off him.
//In other new Mikey Way, the boy who was put into a coma after a vicious attack is not responding to stimulants. It is feared that he may never wake up…// The news presenter said.
Tears started to stream down my face, I looked down at the boy. My breathing quickened, I sunk the knife into his chest and carved the name ‘Ryan’ before turning the boy’s body over and carving ‘you’re next’.
“Please let me die, let me go, please stop the pain,” the little boy whispered.
I turned him back to face me and I peered into his eyes.
“Okay, I’ll make it stop, but know this; I won’t be so merciful to your cousin,” I cried before cutting his windpipe. He died within seconds.
Standing up I headed for the bathroom; after closing the door behind me I started to panic and cry. The voices in my head started screaming. I was struggling to cope, I was struggling to breathe.
“Mikey you have to wake up, please Mikey. I don’t want you to die for me. Wake up God dam it Mikey, I need you, I fucking need you. I AM afraid to walk this world alone, I need you by my side,” I sobbed sliding down the wall of the bathroom.
