Current location:	Living Room
Current mood:	frustrated
Current music:	"Forever" - Papa Roach
Entry tags:	someone to love me

Someone to Love Me (Chapter Two)

     A pale-skinned man sighed as he stepped out of the shower, looking down at his hands and torso one last time to make sure he had gotten the blood off of them. A rumpled, crimson-flecked black hoodie and jeans made a crude mound in the corner of the linoleum floor. Gerard sighed before drying off and slipping into a clean pair of boxers. He tried to compose his thoughts as he rubbed a towel over his soaked locks, getting them to dry as soon as possible.

     So, Gerard, you found some random boy who was trying to kill himself in the park in the middle of the night. You brought him home, cleaned him up, and now he’s sleeping in your bed, while he could be some crazed lunatic who’s going to murder you as soon as he wakes up. What the fuck are you going to do now?

     He groaned. What had seemed like a good idea a few hours ago didn’t appear to be the smartest choice when he said it back to himself like that. I shouldn’t be so hard on myself, he internally argued while disposing of some bloody bandages. I just saved some kid’s life… Things’ll turn out okay… He located his pajamas, a pair of comfortable black sweatpants, in the hallway outside of the bathroom door. Gerard looked back at the pile of soiled clothes and cringed. His stomach tightened, not because of the blood - no, he was more manly than that - it was the thought of the pain that boy had gone through to lose so much blood… The pain that he went through that drove him to this insane act.

     As he walked into the kitchen, Gerard was startled to see the boy’s backpack on the table. He had forgotten about bringing it with him. It took him only two seconds to decide if it was an invasion of privacy or not, and only three more to realize that he didn’t care. Besides, the kid almost died. At this point, he doesn’t really have a say. His pale hands slipped the zipper out of the way and began gently rifling through the contents. There wasn’t anything special; clothes, most of which were black, toothbrush, all the basic ‘run away from home’ stuff. Another groan. A kid, probably scared shitless, ran away from home and decided to end his days on a dirty park bench. Great.

     But then something glinting in the kitchen’s overhead light caught his attention. A photograph in a sleek, metal frame had been carefully wrapped within the folds of a Black Flag tee shirt, and it’s corner was now sticking out enough to be seen. Gerard gingerly pulled it out from its binding and examined it. There was a picture of a woman, probably in her mid thirties. She had short, blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, which shone with warmth and joy. Not someone I would think to run away from… She was standing in the doorway of a house somewhere with a glass of wine in her hand, leaning casually against the doorframe. The snapshot had caught her in the middle of laughter, and Gerard couldn’t help but smile softly at the sheer happiness that the photo seemed to radiate.

     Gerard sighed softly and sat down at the table, vaguely wondering who this woman was. Glancing over at the clock on the wall, he saw that the time was later than he had thought. 2:47 A.M… Shit… I have to work tomorrow, too. He continued to sit at the table, contemplating. He knew he was tired, and wanted to go to bed, but what was he going to do if that kid woke up? He only looked to be around sixteen, and waking up in a random guy’s apartment might very well scare the hell out of him, even more than whatever happened to make him want to kill himself. What to do, what to do…

     Luckily, he was distracted from his indecision when he noticed the last item in the bag, which had been obscured by the Black Flag tee. A journal. It was worn and Gerard could tell by the slightly-tattered, soft leather cover, that it had been apparently well used. He thumbed through the pages quickly, not really reading anything, but just trying to see how much was written. It was over halfway filled with a slightly scrawled script, although it was still able to be read. Stopping on a random page near the front, dated April 16^th, he read silently to himself.

     I hate it here. All those people from church have always told me that when I die I’ll go to hell. I mean, after all, I was born on Halloween. Satan’s child, right? But I know they’re wrong, Either they’re wrong, or I’ve already died… This is hell. I wish he would leave me alone, just for once, but every night it’s the same thing. Every fucking night he-

     Gerard jumped, a large crash from down the hall startling him out of his reading. It hadn’t come from his hallway, but the one outside. His neighbors were probably fighting again. A few weeks ago, a middle-aged couple had moved in a few doors down. The fact that the man was having an affair was so painfully obvious that even Gerard had figured it out, without wanting to. He always denied it to his wife, obviously, and it always resulted in something getting broken, even at three in the morning. This time it had sounded like china.

     Looking back down at the page, Gerard’s conscience started to get the best of him. It whispered, ‘privacy.’ That’s funny, he thought. I didn’t think I had a conscience… Hello, old friend… His shoulders shook with silent laughter at this absurd night. A kid tries to kill himself and now I’m talking to my conscience. I really do need some sleep… He released a tired sigh, placed the journal back into the backpack, and set the photo frame on top of it, after rewrapping it in the black shirt.

     Whatever hell that kid has gone through… I guess I’d rather him trust me enough to tell me himself when he wakes up, instead of reading it… Especially when his handwriting gives me a headache… Gerard bit his lip, nervous, as he realized that the boy had been unconscious for more than an hour and half. He mentally kicked himself for not taking him to the hospital in the first place, like he knew he should have done. I mean, when wakes up, what the hell am I supposed to do? But then a thought struck him.