This time, when I awoke, I was laying in the soft sheets of Gerard's bed, nestled against mounds of plush and welcoming white. The sun was filing in through the blinds, illuminating the dusky room and soothing me as reality crawled its way under my tightly buttoned sleeves.
What happened last night? I faintly remember the day before, I had a nice day with Gerard. It was the day I felt happy. Indestructible.
The night, however, is foggy. There was only one thing I remember. Possibly the worst thing you could have in a memory like that.
"I will take revenge on whoever did this to you."
That lines was the only clear thing I remember from the night before. There were so many questions swaddled it,and it scared the fuck out of me.
Those same lines were spoken once before in a different context. A different setting; a different time.
I was so zoned out, I didn't notice Gerard had quietly entered the room.
The bed sank with his weight when he sat beside me, swinging his legs up onto the plush mattress. I felt Gerard's hand creep his way onto my waist, and his body pressed warmly against mine; my thoughts blurred and I was left alone with Gerard in the real world. Facing reality.
Once I really turned to face him, eyes really open, he was smiling, almost sneering. "whats so funny?" I chuckled anxiously, watching his teeth graze over his plump lips as he smiled.
"You are," he said, lifting his lips to my cheek and placing soft kisses over my skin.
I shrugged, not understanding what was so funny.
"Gerard?" I said, lifting my hand to his cheek to slowly graze my thumb in circles over his cheek bones.
"Yes, love?" he said, his head tipping.
"Can you promise you won't ever hurt me?" I demanded, watching his eyes stay open and honest.
"Yes," he smiled. "Can you?"
I shook my head no.
I couldn't.
Everything I touch turns to madness. I have done terrible things and I didn't want to hurt Gerard further by telling him he was safe as my friend, because he wasn't. Nothing in my grasp is safe. But he just shrugged, hand grazing behind him and grasping something, placing a cold, white plate in front of me.
The aroma of bacon and sugar-coated toast filled my nose and my stomach rolled in hunger. My long, bony fingers nudged the roll and then actually slowly grasped a piece of bacon, lifting it to my mouth and snaking my tongue out to meet it. It tasted smoky and juicy, much better than any food I had in days. I smiled and looked at Gerard with happiness bleeding over my face. I took a bit of the toast and nudged the plate towards Gerard with two fingers.

"Im full. Help yourself, Gee."
He smiled slightly and set the plate on the nightstand.
"Why don't you eat?" his hand curled warmly around my hip, his thumb rubbing my hipbone slightly.
I smiled a little and shook my head.
It's not that I'm not hungry. I fucking am. But if I eat then I'll feel ugly; more so than I already do. I will get fat and repulsive. This beautiful man seems to be at least a little interested in me, so I might as well try my hardest to not look like a monster.
I shrugged his question from my plate, rubbing the bud of my lips together, trying to plug away a question of my own.
" What happened last night?" I asked, watching his face fall slightly grim. He cleared his throat and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer too him, only a thin wave of sheets between us.
"Nothing to be afraid of. You're safe."
My eyebrows crinkled in confusion.
"You've said those words before." his expression suddenly became unreadable.
"What makes you think that?" he asked wearily, watching me carefully.
"You're gonna have to tell me sooner or later." he said, looking me in the eyes. I whimpered and buried my face in his neck. "Can I?" he spoke softly as his hand hit my fly.
For the third time that morning I shook my head. But this time; it was a yes.
His hand slowly explored me, careful over my scarred skin. The waist band of my pants was soon nudged over my bony hips. His fingers slowly hooked around the edges of my boxers. I didn't realize how hard he was until I turned to him, his eyes contently watching my reaction to each nudge closer to my dick. My entire legs where buzzing with heat and electricity, a fuzzy feeling of pleasure growing quickly as his fingers slowly spread my legs. My head slowly tilting back, neck revealing from beneath my shirt and shag. His lips lurched forward, landing on the sensitive part of my neck, below my ear. A sly moan slipped through my lips, a shuddering leaking through my body. His hand tugged off my shirt slowly, tossing it aside. I glanced over at his crotch. He was packing heat, really. Suddenly, he was on top of me, hips pressed against mine. The denim of his pants hit me slightly, reminding me terribly of the people who.. R-Raped me...
I went soft slowly. It felt good, it did, but my head was pulsing and pounding. My eyes became flooded with tears, choking back my hope. "No!" I yelped and with a surge of might, pushed him from me.
I rolled onto my back and covered my bare shoulders with the sheet.
Of course this would happen, I should have known.
I can't do anything right and it's ruining the chances I have with the guy I... The guy I love.
It may be messed up and a little weird, but I love him and I don't know how to stop.
I don't want to stop.
He could save me from the nothing I've become.
Gerard sat up from the bed behind me and started pulling on his clothes. I crushed my eyes closed. This is all my fault, maybe if I weren't such a pussy, I could make him happy.
I'll never make him happy though, because it feels like I will never be able to be with him like that.
As the thoughts welled in my brain, tears swelled in my eyes, causing a few to run down my cheek.
I thought that for a moment Gerard would stop getting dressed and comfort me, but as I heard him tug on his shirt and close the door, I knew I was wrong.
I waited for the front door to close before getting up.
My hands grasped around the sink, looking at myself in anger at the mirror. He didn't understand, fuck, how could I expect him to? No one ever would. Nice try, game fucking over.
I would claw my skin off if I could. I was so fucking disgusting. Every thing in me was falling apart. He's the only one who would ever make me feel beautiful, and I can't ever please him. My fingers slowly crept over the bar of soap, scrubbing at my skin until it turned pink beneath the suds, then red, deepening to a constricted purple. Slowly the skin began to tear slightly under the pressure, little beads of blood surfacing sweetly. I dropped the bar of soap. I wasn't ever going to wash the burden of the experience from nipping at my heels.

I waited an hour before I moved. Angrily, quickly, I walked into Gerard's room and stripped myself of clothing. I needed to be bare. I needed to face myself.
I plopped into the inviting silk. I wanted to be alone. Face to face with the reality of how horrid I was. I miss the days when my parents would annoy me constantly about how I was feeling. Honestly. It may have peeved me, but it's a lot better than being isolated from anyone who cared, left with your own thoughts that will never leave your head. They even fucking tucked me in, for fucks sake. They would ask if I mind that, but I knew if I said yes they'd assume I was being mischievous, and would push me until I become even more terribly cross. Sometimes I wish I could slip out of the skin of who I was. Dress up like a man, who had nothing to hide but the money in his wallet and the affair he would probably be having with his mistress. Live the high class life for a day, with no sense of angst or even having to work. Having everything dished out to you, even just for a moment, would be the break I desire. I wonder how it would feel to have that taken away.
We all know that the old argument, "Don't be sad, you're not a poverty ridden child in Africa!" is so cold because they never knew anything but that. They don't have a level of hope that normal lives lead us to. We have the opportunity to have everything, and have it taken away. Which is much worse than people give it credit for. It's in no way selfish to desire suicide. We all want a taste of freedom. What other way, than to leave the people who pretended to love you in the dust? The red washing down may not change the color of the sea at all, but face forward dive into death would cause a flood of despair throughout anyones life you even brushed with your finger tips.
I looked across the room, scoping for my latest disguise. I couldn't take the puckered ruts anymore. I want to be dressed in satin before I eat the dust. I want to make a masterpiece the moment I eat the bullet.
The closet door was slightly ajar and all too perfectly intriguing and timely than I'm able to roll off my back. My fingers curled around the edge as I slowly nudged it open. It's funny. I stood in fear of some kind of monster inside. They say that when you want to die, nothing scares you. But monsters do exist. Monsters are inside us, and that's why you should be fearful of them. They'll eat you alive.
Inside the dark closet was an array of clothes. I had to bite back a Mozart melody as I slipped on silk, throwing my rags of clothes to the floor. I turned to the closet, pulling on a pair of black jeans. All his close fit me dangerously loosely. I'm so tiny. I take pride in that.
Leaning down slowly to grab a belt, I nudged a blouse of a white box. Shoes? That would go pleasantly. In fact, greatly. I lifted the lid slowly, peeling back the tissue paper. Suddenly, a gasp erupted from my chest. It was a gun. Gerard has a gun. Oh my fucking god, oh my god. The box dropped from my hands quickly, as I skittered up against the bed. In the corner of my eye was a dark figure. I hesitantly turned my head slowly, face frozen in a pale gape. Gerard was home.

I'm sorry for not updating sooner. School started. I promise my updates will be a lot faster now. Love you guys.