The Madness of Mania (Frerard AU)

Chapter 1

[Gerard's P.O.V]

The soft cushioning of the white walls and floor beneath me stared menacingly back at me, ricocheting any rage I threw at them; they couldn't hold me forever.

The voices inside my head continued to chip slowly away at the little sanity I had left, twisting my thoughts - the many ideas of ending people's lives surely sending me to hell; but I was already there.

With my arms wrapped tightly around my chest, restricted by a similarly white jacket with many shiny buckles, rocking back and forth, a crooked smile grew upon my face, devilish. Staring contently at the cushioned wall in front of me, I laughed hysterically - the giggle of a maniac, indulged in one self's mind and finding amusement in the whispers of my brain. The high pitches of a psycho echoing throughout my lonesome ward.

They locked me up in an asylum to make me better, to put my thoughts right. Apparently murdering those burdens whom lessen your quality of life labels you insane. I was already just fine, in fact, I couldn't feel any better... If only they could see the healthiness of my mind leaking through my blood-shot eyes.

Strands of my black mop of hair fell down my face, just past my shoulders, due to the lack of attention to taming it. I could feel the dark circles forming around my eye sockets, the weeks of sleepless nights finally taking a toll on me. Nevertheless, my state failed to bother me, one of the perks of being almost completely isolated.

After rolling around aimlessly on the comfy floor for a few hours, I was interrupted by a 'clang' of metal against metal as the familiar sound of my cell door screeched open, just enough to let a tray of 'food' in.

"Dinner," a monotone, male voice spoke.

Ignoring it, I continued to stare contently at the wall, my twisted smile still formed. With a sigh, the guard slowly pulled the steel door to a close, finally understanding my liking for solitude - my euphoria. However, I decided to have a little fun today...

As he stood adjacent to my cell door, my dilated eyes followed the wall towards him. Disregarding my lukewarm meal, I forced my body to stand, silently (even clasped within a straitjacket). Focused solely on the entrance to my cell, I crept slowly forwards, lingering by the door.

I could hear his heart beat and paced breaths, sensing the façade of bravery; how unnerving. His fear provoked my attention.

Without a second thought, I slammed my body against the door of which he stood, a loud fit of cynical laughter spewing from the depths of me. My screeches gnawing at his ears, he jumped, mumbling panicked profanities under his breath.

"Michael, I am not ten years old; I'm mature enough to hear swear words." I pouted, childishly. How ironic.

With a vexed expression plastered across his face, he scowled at me, however also attempting to maintain a sense of professionalism.

Leaning happily against my barricade to freedom, I listened for what he had to say.

"Fuck off."

"That's better," I smiled slyly, content with his reply.

Being the irritating darling I am, I found a great deal of satisfaction in messing with the primitive minds of those in close proximity to me. The confusion and fear littering across their faces sparks a happy feeling of accomplishment in me. And being within such a facility occasionally limits methods of entertainment, therefore finding a good time-passer seemed a suitable idea.

In fact, I had been in this 'hotel for the mentally ill' for almost four years - the last few years of my teens wasted, withering into my early twenties. But they weren't truly wasted - just a longer period of time to devise my delightful plan.

After checking the locks on my door for exactly the ninth time, my dear guard, Michael, left me alone, finally caving in from my apparently frustrating antics.

I was actually quite surprised they hadn't sealed the iron bars on my door allowing me an outlook on my corridor, completely disconnecting me from society, hidden further away in a 'safe haven'; but who am I to judge.

I was a mistake, an error in an already corrupt society. According to my mother and father, as long as I was hidden away, I didn't exist. A poltergeist to the real world. Or more so a myth.

They had always favoured my younger brother over me - of course all siblings have their indifferences and periods of jealousy, but they were truly infatuated with him. Their perfect son. An asset to the family, unlike me of course. I became overly infuriated with their disregard to their elder son, so I decided on their termination; and it was so well deserved.

Their unfortunate death, however, came with consequences; me being stripped of my freedom, but that was the least of my problems. As a result, I spend hours, days, months even, in the company of my own mind.

Michael had returned, along with another guard whose name I didn't care for - it was clear that he couldn't possibly look after me on his own.

"Well hello there," I grinned, flashing my teeth at the newcomer. He looked slightly nervously towards Michael, as if asking whether to reply; his uncertainty vanished as Michael whispered to him. "It's best not to speak to the patients. Conversation only influences them."

"That's rather rude, now isn't it Michael?" I said, acting hurt.

"Perhaps you should use that smart brain of yours and understand that we don't care for your emotions." He said smugly, continuing to face away from my cell.

"Of course," I sighed, falling on my back, landing with a soft thud. If only he knew what was coming to him.

The staff here were almost as stuck up as my parents - they would receive the same fate as them.

They only had to wait their turn...

A/N

Hello! This is the first fan fiction I have ever written and since you're here, thanks for reading! If you're enjoying the story so far, please comment/vote, but if you don't want to that's cool too!

Anyway, let's get back to the story...