Dear Universe, Up Yours!

Chapter 8

I was suddenly awakened by a pair of arms shaking me gently. My eyes had opened patiently, as they still felt tired and dry, but I saw Gerard standing in front of me with urge. The desperation on his face went away as he noticed that I was finally awake. I stretched a bit, my arms and legs, then neatly sat up on the bed, staring beseechingly at him with confusion. I was also a bit pissed that I didn't wake up naturally. Like, by myself. I was an awfully tired person and was convinced it was an abnormal kind of tired. I needed a lot of sleep. Especially more than usual, due to the events of last night. It kind of felt like a fever dream. A nightmare. Oh shit. That actually happened. It did, didn't it? It did. I really fucking screwed up and murdered somebody last night. I wish it was a nightmare. But I quickly realized that it wasn't once I had woken up to Gerard in the tacky motel uniform shirt and behind him, the smoothly painted white walls of the nicer motel we checked in to. The motel that I didn't kill anyone by.

"We gotta go, c'mon," he says quietly, walking towards the door. He says this like in a rush, but it was still very calm. I noticed before that he had a folded map in his hand. I guess he found one then. I followed him and we both left the room, going to the lobby. It didn't take too long to check out, and I used the stolen money from the night before to pay.

We left the building and to the parking lot, getting inside the car. Gerard paused a bit. He looked out his window, and I adjusted my position to look at him from the side. He had soft, sad eyes, his eyebrows slightly upturned, and looking back again, his eyes were a little watery. And at this moment, I didn't know what was worse. Killing a human being or messing up Gerard's purity.

I thought about the blood again. Splatting on Gerard's face. His eyes opening as it stopped. His mouth opening as he realized. It kept replaying, over and over. Me stabbing the guy and the blood landing on Gerard's sweet, innocent baby face. I kept thinking about how much I ruined it, ruined him. It kind of felt like inanely knocking down red paint onto a remarkable painting you've worked endlessly with immoderate toil, ruining the whole goddamn thing. That's what it felt like. Really.

"I can't stop thinking about... it," he finally said, which brought me back to this moment, right now, giving the atmosphere some kind of volume. I watched his face become even sadder. But in a dull, very desperate way. And it was like I could still see the blood on his face even though he had probably washed it off so intensely. In my eyes, it was too visible. "I know you did it for me, to protect me, and the more I try to let it go and try to convince myself that everything's fine, it backfires and I become more paranoid." Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I'm so sorry I dragged you into this," I replied gently. I really was. I really didn't mean it. I kind of wished I didn't run away with him and just left by myself. Then I wouldn't have to see his face as sad as it is right now. He looked at me, watery hazel eyes straight into mine. When his eyes were lamentably filled with those impermissible tears, it kind of hurt my heart. And it was no exaggeration because I actually felt an ache in my chest as I saw him. When they were filled with tears, I couldn't even pay attention to his irises. I couldn't. Because all I saw was the raw red where the white was supposed to be around them. Seeing him look so broken, and knowing I have done this, makes me hate myself right now. I keep thinking, "What have I done?"

"Don't be," he finally said. I knew I was still going to be sorry, no matter what reassurance he says. He looked at me, then gave me some kind of weak smile. But it came off his melancholic, velvety lips as he wiped his eyes dry painfully with his thin, pale fingers. He left both his hands down on his lap, looking pensively at the window. And then, after a rather long pause, he added blankly, as if it were nothing important at all, "We're visiting my brother."

"What?" I asked immediately to his abrupt declaration, as he turned on the engine, putting on his seatbelt, making me do so as well. As in 'Glendale' brother? California brother? He started to drive out of the parking lot and went back on the road. What the fuck, what the fuck are we doing.