Status: New story
How wrong we were to think
18
Gerard's POV
13.00
I was screwed, to put it simply.
I glanced at the two guys sat across from me, and then at the guy standing at the door, holding a gun. The guy with the afro sat forward, clasping his hands on the table. "Gerard, this'll be a whole lot easier if you just talk to us," he said. I shrugged. "I know," I said simply. The guy
with the afro looked at the other guy, and they both frowned.
The other guy, I think his name's Bob or something, leaned forward. "Are you going to tell us, then?" He asked.
I snorted. "No,"
The afro-guy, Ray or whatever, sighed. "Gerard, we already know what happened, we just want it from your point of view. We don't want to arrest you,"
"Then let me go," I said.
Ray shook his head. "It's not that simple. Now, you're facing allegations of attempted robbery, kidnapping, assault and rape here, so if I were you, I'd be talking,"
"Rape?"
Bob nodded. "Your Mom called in and-"
"Hang on, my Mom?" I repeated incredulously "And how would she know about something like that?"
Bob looked at his notes. "According to her, your brother told her, after a phone call to you, that you and Frank-"
"Mikey is a fucking bastard and a liar," I slammed my fist down on the table angrily. Bob and Ray looked at me for a moment. "I didn't fucking rape Frank. He… he wanted it, I know he did,"
Ray raised an eyebrow. "Gerard, you're saying that-"
"I'm fucking saying that I didn't rape Frank. I had sex with him. There's a difference," Bob looked unconvinced, but he moved on "You haven't denied anything else, Gerard," he pointed out. I shrugged again. "That's cause they're true. I kidnapped Frank and beat him up a few times, yeah."
"But you're saying Frank wanted you to… fuck… him? After you beat him up?" Ray asked, sounding condescending. I frowned.
"He… I…" I paused, thinking for a moment, "I'm sure there's this thing, called Stockholm Syndrome, am I right?" Judging by the surprised looks on Bob and Ray's faces, I was. I tried not to smile. "I am right, aren't I?"
Bob nodded once.
"You're saying Frank may be suffering from Stockholm Syndrome?" Ray asked me.
"I don't know. Maybe?"
Ray sighed again. "We'll finish here today." He looked at the guy at the door, who put his gun away and came over, grabbing me roughly and pulling me out of my seat. "Lock him up for tonight, we'll talk to him tomorrow, I need to see Frank now," He waved us off, and I was shoved out of the door. I worried about where I was going, but pushed that to the corner of my mind when I passed Frank. He looked scared. His eyes met mine for the briefest of moments, then I had turned the corner and was being taken to the cells. I felt cold. I was going to be locked up all night in the cold and dark.
Would I meet any other prisoners? What did prisoners do to guys accused of rape? I was sure it wasn't very pleasant, anyway. I crossed my fingers that I'd be alone. I'd rather be with Frank, of course, but next to being beaten up by a criminal, alone was looking a whole lot friendlier.
13.00
I was screwed, to put it simply.
I glanced at the two guys sat across from me, and then at the guy standing at the door, holding a gun. The guy with the afro sat forward, clasping his hands on the table. "Gerard, this'll be a whole lot easier if you just talk to us," he said. I shrugged. "I know," I said simply. The guy
with the afro looked at the other guy, and they both frowned.
The other guy, I think his name's Bob or something, leaned forward. "Are you going to tell us, then?" He asked.
I snorted. "No,"
The afro-guy, Ray or whatever, sighed. "Gerard, we already know what happened, we just want it from your point of view. We don't want to arrest you,"
"Then let me go," I said.
Ray shook his head. "It's not that simple. Now, you're facing allegations of attempted robbery, kidnapping, assault and rape here, so if I were you, I'd be talking,"
"Rape?"
Bob nodded. "Your Mom called in and-"
"Hang on, my Mom?" I repeated incredulously "And how would she know about something like that?"
Bob looked at his notes. "According to her, your brother told her, after a phone call to you, that you and Frank-"
"Mikey is a fucking bastard and a liar," I slammed my fist down on the table angrily. Bob and Ray looked at me for a moment. "I didn't fucking rape Frank. He… he wanted it, I know he did,"
Ray raised an eyebrow. "Gerard, you're saying that-"
"I'm fucking saying that I didn't rape Frank. I had sex with him. There's a difference," Bob looked unconvinced, but he moved on "You haven't denied anything else, Gerard," he pointed out. I shrugged again. "That's cause they're true. I kidnapped Frank and beat him up a few times, yeah."
"But you're saying Frank wanted you to… fuck… him? After you beat him up?" Ray asked, sounding condescending. I frowned.
"He… I…" I paused, thinking for a moment, "I'm sure there's this thing, called Stockholm Syndrome, am I right?" Judging by the surprised looks on Bob and Ray's faces, I was. I tried not to smile. "I am right, aren't I?"
Bob nodded once.
"You're saying Frank may be suffering from Stockholm Syndrome?" Ray asked me.
"I don't know. Maybe?"
Ray sighed again. "We'll finish here today." He looked at the guy at the door, who put his gun away and came over, grabbing me roughly and pulling me out of my seat. "Lock him up for tonight, we'll talk to him tomorrow, I need to see Frank now," He waved us off, and I was shoved out of the door. I worried about where I was going, but pushed that to the corner of my mind when I passed Frank. He looked scared. His eyes met mine for the briefest of moments, then I had turned the corner and was being taken to the cells. I felt cold. I was going to be locked up all night in the cold and dark.
Would I meet any other prisoners? What did prisoners do to guys accused of rape? I was sure it wasn't very pleasant, anyway. I crossed my fingers that I'd be alone. I'd rather be with Frank, of course, but next to being beaten up by a criminal, alone was looking a whole lot friendlier.