My Guardian Vampire

'...'

"You're joking, right?" I asked, stunned. Billie laughed at my expression and threw me over his shoulder once again, this time a little more roughly. He did not answer me, simply sped off.

I screamed at him until my voice was hoarse, until I could not scream any longer.

We eventually got to the house near daybreak. He must have run through the house for I saw brightness before the darkness once again. I was then thrown onto something soft, and the door was slammed shut. I wasn't sure whether I should scream, fight, or cry. I had no idea where I was, though I had a feeling we were back in New York.

I stood up and searched around, recognizing that I was back in the room with the couch.

Freaking square one.

'Is this where I'm going to be sent every time I'm punished?'

It started out as a tired out joke in my head, but as I realized the possibility of this actually happening it took on a much darker tone, giving me chills. I couldn't think like this. I was going to escape.

I had to.

I stood up and banged on the door for hours, my fist eventually bruised and bloody. I think one or two of my bones were broken, but I didn't want to get married. I wanted to be out. I didn't want to die anymore...

I wanted Gerard.

I woke up at one point in the night, not even remembering falling asleep. Once I opened my eyes I groaned, and saw the door being closed quickly and heard the click of the lock. I groaned even louder this time, and from the light coming from the crack underneath the door saw my hands were bandaged. I tried crawling towards the door, but as I began to move forward my knee hit some kind of tray, spilling some kind of liquid with a near-silent splosh. I fumbled in the darkness and found the cup, greedily putting the liquid to my lips, though I tasted it cautiously before proceeding.

Orange juice. I drank it thirstily, but I had drunk almost the entire thing before I noticed the stinging taste.

Alcohol. In my OJ.
Blech.

I swear to god, I would never drink alcohol again if I could avoid it. There was also some food. Strawberries.

'Peh, the ass is trying to get on my good si—hey! They’re chocolate covered!'

I grudgingly ate them, despising the sweet high I got from them. They were big, perfect, juicy ones with just the right amount of sweet and sour combination, the chocolate delicious.

I hated those stupid strawberries.

After I ate the strawberries, there was a small sandwich, with some kind of meat and lettuce stuffed in between two slices of bread.
I didn't bother eating it.

The last thing I found was a small card. I shuffled closer to the door and read:
"17 Days."

Great. The countdown to our wedding. The end of September...

Oh God. I wanted to puke.
I continued like this for a few more days, each breakfast being served with a small card.
16 Days...
15 Days...
14 Days...

During the days I mostly cried and would kick, pound, and scream at the door. My throat became viciously raw, but I didn't care. I would scream for Gerard, for my friends, for anything I could think of. At one point my screams stopped making sense. But that didn't matter either. I needed to get out. I stopped looking at the cards. I couldn't. It drove me insane. Plus, it took time away from screaming. The only time I would stop was to eat or pass out. For a while I had tried to trip whoever flashed in with my food, but it would never work.

It kept coming closer and closer. I was sure I only had a few days left. I had managed to stay up longer than usual yesterday, and I was passed out from the pain in my hands and arms. I began to dream of a noose around my neck, getting tighter and tighter, the first dream I had had here.

I woke up to someone choking me.

"You bitch, you ruined everything. Everything Gerard and I had. I told you to stay the fuck away."

I couldn't reply with his hands around my neck, his knees pinning me down. He could have snapped my neck, right there and then, but I guess he wanted me to slowly suffer.
I felt my eyes begin to water.

I tried to rip his hands off my neck, but he didn't budge. My lungs were throbbing, screaming messages to my brain that I needed air. My aching hands responded by trying to claw harder, but it still didn't work. I must have done something eventually however, as the hands finally let go of my neck. My head fell limp and painfully to the floor, my neck too sore to make any kind of move. I closed my eyes tightly from the pain and rubbed my neck softly, taking in deep breaths, pain stabbing with each inhale, but were obviously worth it.

I felt hands take mine, and I screamed, my eyes quickly slipping open and staring into the dark room, now illuminated by the light through the door. I couldn't make out who was in front of me, and when I felt my hands being held down and another hand around my neck I panicked, thrashing about wildly.

"Shh, you're safe," a voice whispered in my ear in the darkness. I froze, my screaming blocking out my brain from identifying who had whispered.

The hand gently went back to my throat, the fingers running softly against my neck, checking for damage and giving me chills. Then I felt soft lips being pressed against my neck lovingly, carefully. They were a set of perfect-shaped lips, lips I instantly recognized.

"Get away from me," I choked, pushing the body away. They seemed to pause in the darkness for a moment, before I literally felt the heat of anger coming from them.

"You'll have to come over to me eventually. You will, be sure of that," Billie said, and got up and left.

He left the door wide open.

Oh man, my brain jumped up and ran on the first signal, my feet taking instant action.
Unfortunately, I was tackled and lifted off the ground almost the instant I had stepped out of the door.

"Let me go you dirty bastard!"

"Nice to see you again too, Green," Tré said. "You know I can't let you go unless you promise to behave."

"Stuff you! Let me go now!"

He didn't say anything for a moment, simply held me in the air. Then:

"You don't want to go back into the closet, do you?"

I held my kicking for a moment. It wouldn't do me any good to stay in there...

Tré set me down.

"Good, glad to hear it," he said, walking away. I stood there dumbfounded, unsure of my next move. I took a step forward towards the door, and nothing happened. I checked around for anyone. Tré had left, and no one was around.
Another step.
And another.
And another.
One big giant step.
Another gigantic step.

I could touch the knob now. I put my hand and touched the cold metal carefully, as if it would suddenly burn or break underneath the pressure of my fingertips.

My hand was then whacked away, and Mike stood in front of me at an uncomfortable distance (or lack thereof), his arms folded. I took a personal step back.

"Don't do it again," he said coldly, and unfolded his arms as if to walk away. Instead he took a step forward, once again invading my personal space. I leaned back, my eyes wide as he radiated an unusual coldness.

"This is the only warning you'll get."

His eyes seemed entirely different, as if they were the source from the coldness. His eyes had always been a cold blue, but now they were below zero, visible ice chunks in the form of colorless streaks of white in between the shades of blue.
That’s how close he was: I could tell all of that.

I shut my eyes, and breathed out slowly. Whatever kind of friendship we had, it was now gone. There was no reason to try to fool myself. Whether this was a new Mike, an older Mike, or the real Mike, it didn't matter. This was the Mike I had to deal with now.

"Ok, Mike," I said, my eyes still closed. I felt the chill leave with his footsteps, and I let go of the carbon dioxide that had been residing in my lungs for those few moments, imagining ice hanging in the air from the left-over cooled atmosphere.

I stumbled over to the couch warily and collapsed, deep in mental anguish. How the hell did I get out of here?
I sat up and crossed my legs in an Indian-style pose, making myself as still as a statue. I sat there and meditated. It wasn't really my thing, but I would try anything at this point.

My mind stayed blank for God knows how long, and I was startled out of my white world by the colors of music, roping me back to reality.

At first it was the drum beat that shocked me back, but then I heard the soft rhythms of a guitar being played. I stood up, my feet involuntarily heading towards the sound; it had an almost dreamlike quality to it. I dragged myself as a living zombie through the hallway and down towards the music room, where the sounds became increasingly clearer. The drumming had stopped—I guess it was some kind of tune-up. The guitar continued however, keeping that dream playing in my brain…

I paused at the door, my hands fighting to turn the knob to enter, it taking all of my will to stop them.

But then, I began to hear singing, and I became totally powerless.