For every story tagged #WattPride this month, Wattpad will donate $1 to the ILGA
Pen Your Pride

Chapter 8

199 2 0

Gerard's POV

14 years old? Are you kidding me? Ok, first off, what is a 14 year old doing in the middle of the worst storm ever in Los Angeles ALONE? Second, she does NOT look 14. I knew she was a minor, but I  thought she was at least 17. Third, I don't want to be responsible for this girl. I don't care who she is, where she came from, or how old she is, she is a minor, who probably ran away from somewhere, and if the police find her here, it's our asses in jail. Period. Look, I don't want to be the bad guy here, but I have to somehow get this into Frank's head that she doesn't belong here. 

Frank shoves me into the kitchen, and turns back to tell the girl something. I'm not listening though, I just go straight to the coffee machine. Yes, I drink coffee at night too. 

I hear the door close and I can just feel Frank's eyes burn through the back of my head. I finish making my coffee, sit on top of our counter, and take a sip of my coffee. All of this stuff is giving me a headache. Frank is still giving me his evil glare. I look up at him, "Yes?"

"Seriously Gerard, what the hell?" Ok. Frank is more pissed then I thought he was. 

"I love how you're blaming me for all of this, when YOU were the one who ran outside and got her," I take another sip of my coffee, "Mmmmhh... want some?" I offer, trying to lighten up the mood. He comes over to me, gives me a smirk, takes my cup, and pours the coffee down the drain. That was the most perfect cup of coffee I have ever made, and now the pipes gets to enjoy it more then I did. 

"Ok, seriously Frank? What is your problem right now?" 

"Me?" He acted all innocent, "I have no problem. I just forced you in here just to talk to you causally." 

I sighed and placed my hand on his shoulder, although it didn't stay on there long. "Frank, you have to listen to me, ok? She doesn't know us, and we don't know her. She can't even talk! I don't know if she is faking it because she is scared and doesn't trust us, or she physically can't."

Frank stares at me with a very annoyed look, but I ignore it.

"She's walking in the streets, in a huge storm, alone. She only has one bag, and did I mention she is ALONE? She is clearly not stable, and what if she's a runaway? She can't stay here, the police could find her here and we would be the ones charged with kidnapping, or of holding a kid hostage, even if we didn't. We can tell them the truth, but besides, even if we do turn her into the police..." I stopped. Frank's eyes started to fill with water. Gerard, you are seeing things. He doesn't care that much about her. He isn't crying. Stop trying to play games on me mind. It's annoying.

'But I like to.'

Who said that?

'Your mind.'

Shut up mind. I'm busy.

'I'll always be here.' 

Ugh. 

I recollected myself and started again. "If we do turn her in, we would be the ones to..." Frank breathed out like he has been holding his breath for at least a minute, and turned away.

"Frank..." I said sincerely. "I understand that you are just trying to help but..."

"BUT NOTHING GERARD," Frank interrupts and turns around to face me, "You're right. She isn't stable. That's why she HAS to stay here." Tears started streaming down his face, and he raised his voice even more. "The police won't find out because we won't say anything about it. I can take care of her Gerard!"

"You are going insane, or you're probably in shock due to all of her wounds you just treated," I exclaimed as thunder roared from outside, "She probably has a family somewhere, and if she doesn't, she has good friends who has a family who can help her. If not that, then...you really think she is this easy in trusting people she doesn't even know?"

The Feeling of Love and TerrorRead this story for FREE!