Killing's Just A Game

Let's do a little visual exercise. Picture in your mind a giant toddler. Now, visualize the mega-toddler throwing a huge temper tantrum. I mean red faced, screaming, and storming around a room in a tirade. Got the image?

That is the best way to describe Mikey when we arrived at the hospital. He spent nearly thirty minutes yelling at and lecturing Gerard. When he was finally finished, he collapsed in a chair next to Gerard's bed and rested his head in his hands. Gerard had refused to speak the entire time, simply letting Mikey blow off steam. The awkward silence that now hangs in the room is unbearable.

"Um...guys?" I ask. All five of their heads snap up in attention. "Can I talk to Gerard in private for a moment? You know, to get a statement to take to the press and all..."

The four sober men exit the room, leaving me alone with Gerard. I walk over to the side of his bed and sit down in the chair that Mikey had just occupied.

"So...what exactly are you in here for?" I begin clumsily. He glares at me and looks down at his bed sheets, still refusing to talk. "Come on, Gerard. You have to let me do my job." Well...my cover job.

"Dehydration and alcohol poisoning," he replies shortly, "They pumped my stomach."

I wince at the sound of his voice. It's scratchy and cracks every other syllable. I instantly miss the beautiful, melodic tone it usually carries. Then, I immediately regret thinking that. I have to stay focused, for my sanity if nothing else.

"Do they know when you'll be released?" I continue.

"Late tonight, probably. When they're sure all of the alcohol is out of my system," he informs me, before adding, "I fucking hate needles."

I look down at the IV in his arm and feel my hand wrapping around his. He squeezes back, and I give him a small smile.

"So, Mel, are you and Frank together now, or what?" he asks.

"Not as far as I know. I mean, I barely know the guy," I answer honestly.

Gerard nods and seems to take my words into consideration. I glance out the window into the hallway and notice a journalist from Alternative Press magazine talking with Ray.

"Oh great," I groan. "I'm so not in the mood for that guy just yet."

Gerard follows my gaze and sighs. "Sorry for putting you through so much trouble already."

"Don't worry about it, Gee," I reply, standing up. "Just don't do it again."

"No promises," he jokes.

"Oh ha ha, very funny," I retort, "Well I'm going to go deal with the reporter. I'll see you in a few, all right?"

"Mkay," he says, as I make my way out the door.