House of Wolves
They Made Me Do It
Mikey's P.O.V.
Mixed emotions. Feelings of loss, rage, and loneliness. I shuffled around the mansion half-alive, wallowing in self-pity. I didn't have to let her go. I studied the paintings along the walls. One was of Gerard and myself when we were younger. We were both so full of life, full of happiness. We were nothing but ignorant children, and we didn't care. I would have given anything to go back to that time, to go back to my old life, not bothered by modernization, vampires, or death. I thought about how much had changed. My whole life had been torn away from me in an instant. I traced my small face, my tiny hands, my warm smile. I began to cry. Why didn't I leave when I had the chance? I could have avoided this entire thing, this entire life. I could have found myself a normal wife, had normal children, and I could have lead a normal life. But no, I had to stay with my brother. I would have died a normal death by now. I would be free. My sobs shook my body to the very core. I turned away from the painting and slid to the floor. I drew my knees up to my chest, and cried for two hours straight. All the while thinking of the life I could have had, and being racked by the constant feelings of fear and regret.
When I had no tears left to shed, I took a deep breath and stood up. Ignoring the will to throw myself from the third floor balcony, though I knew it wouldn't work, I continued down the endless maze of hallways. There came a point when the hallways did end and that's when I came to Tater's room. Every other problem came flooding back. I had completely forgotten about Frankie's death and Tater's crazy obsession over me. I knocked on her door. There were a few things I had to find out.
“What the fuck do you people want?!” Tater screamed. I considered just walking away, ignoring the burning questions inside of me, and just going back to my room. But I couldn't, once again I just couldn't walk away.
“Uh, I...I...it's Mikey.” I winced, wondering what she would scream next.
“C-come in.” I shrugged and opened her door with a shaky hand, and immediately wished that I hadn't. The smell of alcohol had seeped into everything in Tater's room. My eyes burned just from the potency of it. I looked down nervously to see Tater's big brown eyes staring up at me. “Mikey boy!” She got up and threw her arms around me. I almost threw up, she reeked of sweat and alcohol. She grabbed my hand and dragged me over to her bed. “Sit!” I did and she giggled.
“Look, Tater, there are a few things we need to talk about. First...what are you doing?” Tater was on the floor and licking my hand. I tore it away from her, disgusted. She sat staring at me, a puzzled look upon her face.
“Whatcha' wanna know Mikey, boy? I'll tell you anything.” I cocked an eyebrow, wanting nothing more than to leave the room.
“Well...how drunk are you?”
“I'm not drunk silly!” She stood up and immediately fell back down, giggling some more.
“That drunk, huh? Look, I just want to know...how long have you liked me?”
“Liked you? Mikey, I love you! You're just so hot, you know?”
“No...I don't.” Tater giggled some more and I realized it was a lost cause. Shaking my head, I stood up and started to leave the room, only to be tripped by a clingy Tater.
“C'mon, Mikes! Stay, please? Please?” I shook her off of me, shaking my head again. “I FUCKING HATE YOU!” I jerked my head around to see Tater glaring at me. “YOU MADE ME KILL FRANKIE. YOU DROVE ME TO DO IT. I HATE YOU.”
“Wha-”
“IT'S ALL. YOUR. FAULT.”
I left Tater shrieking a string of cuss words at me. Even though I knew Tater was totally crazy, and that she quite obviously had severe problems, I still felt like she was right, and it was my fault that Frankie had been brutally murdered.
I should have just turned around and ran for my fucking life when I had the chance.
Mixed emotions. Feelings of loss, rage, and loneliness. I shuffled around the mansion half-alive, wallowing in self-pity. I didn't have to let her go. I studied the paintings along the walls. One was of Gerard and myself when we were younger. We were both so full of life, full of happiness. We were nothing but ignorant children, and we didn't care. I would have given anything to go back to that time, to go back to my old life, not bothered by modernization, vampires, or death. I thought about how much had changed. My whole life had been torn away from me in an instant. I traced my small face, my tiny hands, my warm smile. I began to cry. Why didn't I leave when I had the chance? I could have avoided this entire thing, this entire life. I could have found myself a normal wife, had normal children, and I could have lead a normal life. But no, I had to stay with my brother. I would have died a normal death by now. I would be free. My sobs shook my body to the very core. I turned away from the painting and slid to the floor. I drew my knees up to my chest, and cried for two hours straight. All the while thinking of the life I could have had, and being racked by the constant feelings of fear and regret.
When I had no tears left to shed, I took a deep breath and stood up. Ignoring the will to throw myself from the third floor balcony, though I knew it wouldn't work, I continued down the endless maze of hallways. There came a point when the hallways did end and that's when I came to Tater's room. Every other problem came flooding back. I had completely forgotten about Frankie's death and Tater's crazy obsession over me. I knocked on her door. There were a few things I had to find out.
“What the fuck do you people want?!” Tater screamed. I considered just walking away, ignoring the burning questions inside of me, and just going back to my room. But I couldn't, once again I just couldn't walk away.
“Uh, I...I...it's Mikey.” I winced, wondering what she would scream next.
“C-come in.” I shrugged and opened her door with a shaky hand, and immediately wished that I hadn't. The smell of alcohol had seeped into everything in Tater's room. My eyes burned just from the potency of it. I looked down nervously to see Tater's big brown eyes staring up at me. “Mikey boy!” She got up and threw her arms around me. I almost threw up, she reeked of sweat and alcohol. She grabbed my hand and dragged me over to her bed. “Sit!” I did and she giggled.
“Look, Tater, there are a few things we need to talk about. First...what are you doing?” Tater was on the floor and licking my hand. I tore it away from her, disgusted. She sat staring at me, a puzzled look upon her face.
“Whatcha' wanna know Mikey, boy? I'll tell you anything.” I cocked an eyebrow, wanting nothing more than to leave the room.
“Well...how drunk are you?”
“I'm not drunk silly!” She stood up and immediately fell back down, giggling some more.
“That drunk, huh? Look, I just want to know...how long have you liked me?”
“Liked you? Mikey, I love you! You're just so hot, you know?”
“No...I don't.” Tater giggled some more and I realized it was a lost cause. Shaking my head, I stood up and started to leave the room, only to be tripped by a clingy Tater.
“C'mon, Mikes! Stay, please? Please?” I shook her off of me, shaking my head again. “I FUCKING HATE YOU!” I jerked my head around to see Tater glaring at me. “YOU MADE ME KILL FRANKIE. YOU DROVE ME TO DO IT. I HATE YOU.”
“Wha-”
“IT'S ALL. YOUR. FAULT.”
I left Tater shrieking a string of cuss words at me. Even though I knew Tater was totally crazy, and that she quite obviously had severe problems, I still felt like she was right, and it was my fault that Frankie had been brutally murdered.
I should have just turned around and ran for my fucking life when I had the chance.