As the Blood Runs Down the Walls (Gerard Way x Reader)

(Chapter 4) A Turn of Events

We both awoke bright and early.  Frank was even more cranky that morning seeing as we woke up at five. I slept much more soundly with this case almost closed and shut; As sound as one can sleep with still a murderer at large, but still better nonetheless. We were about to begin day two of our investigation. The other detectives were still nowhere in sight since the snow still lay thick and icy outside. The forecast said there was even more snow to come which brought all our spirits down even more. I presumed that they wouldn't be along for a while, but I still hoped they would make it soon. 

We hurriedly ate our breakfast and had our coffee, as to have plenty of time in the day for work. Afterward, we sprung into action by retracing the killer's steps. That was the way we thought would be best to work out the logistics of the crime. We were both betting on Pete to be our suspect since there were no other people that had as much likelihood as him. 

"C'mon Frankie, we gotta pick up the pace," I said as we walked down the hall, Frank almost falling over from drowsiness. "This is the matter of life or death, who knows when there could be another victim." 

"Yeah I know," He replied as I pushed the now-fixed elevator button. 

The elevator ascended and sounded its arrival with a 'ding'. We entered and clicked the button to take us to the lobby. Frank rested his head on my shoulder to which I throw an arm around his shoulder. Down we went, eventually screeching to a halt and letting out another 'ding' upon reaching the lobby. 

The point of waking up so early was to be able to have the kitchen empty for investigation before the morning complimentary breakfast that was served from eight to ten-thirty. Around six-thirty we presumed the kitchen to be bustling with activity to get the food all prepared. A buzzing kitchen was no place for a murder investigation, so we went when it would be quiet which so happened to be an earlier time than either of us would have liked. 

We walked through the near-empty lobby and to the corridor containing the kitchen. We crept down the carpeted hall until we came to an abrupt halt. "Frank, did you hear that?" I asked in a whisper. 

"Hear what?" He said, bewildered. 

"It sounded like footsteps," I replied while a pang of fear and worry struck through my body. 

"Are you sure? I don't hear anything," he responded, cocking his head to the right in an attempt to listen harder. "Are you just bullshitting me, Y/n?"

"No, no. I heard something I swear." I affirmed, listening one last time before continuing to walk. 

We got no more than ten or fifteen feet before I heard the pitter-patter of feet behind us again. I spun around at an ungodly speed to try and see who was following us. With the fact that they were trying to be inconspicuous, it could be nobody with good intentions on our tails. "There it was again," 

When I turned around there was nothing, nothing at all. Nothing but an empty hallway with the most dated carpet you've ever seen lining the empty floors. 

"I think you're just freaking yourself out. I know this case has been even eerier to you than others, but try to not let it get to your head. You're who they call one of the best in New Jersey so act like it." Frank said with an encouraging smile. "We'll get 'em Y/n." 

"Alright," I responded to his mini pep talk before proceeding down the seemingly never-ending hallway and to the hefty kitchen doors. 

As we entered, an ominous tension fell over the two of us. We stopped in our tracks as I knew Frank had felt the off feeling as well. The feeling was one that made you want to hide under your covers from the sinister evil. The atmosphere was so thick and obvious it would spark the immediate instinct to turn and run, of which we did not.

We stood stationary a few feet beyond the threshold of the door we entered in. We saw that the clean kitchen from the night before had been tarnished by as it looked to be someone starting on the morning's breakfast. There were the ingredients for the waffle and pancakes all out on the center island and some batter in a bowl, yet no cooks to accompany it. 

"Hello?" Frank called warily through the seemingly empty room. 

"Is anybody there?" I added.

Nothing, no response at all. 

We carefully continued into the menacing expanse of the large kitchen. As I made my way around the other side of the island, I let out a horrid shriek. Pete was lying dead on the concrete floor. 

"What- Oh my god!" Frank realized mid-sentence what I had seen. 

Not even a minute after we were looking down at the body, heavy footsteps stomped past the other entrance to the kitchen. I quickly darted my eyes over to the noise and saw something I wouldn't have guessed. What it looked like was Billie Joe stomping down the hall with a massive knife glistening with fresh blood in the light. 

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed with surprise and terror.  

I dashed toward the door, Frank close behind. Once we left the kitchen and arrived in the hall, there was nobody. We continued jogging down the hallway, coming to a fork in the path. The hall split off and led two separate ways. I ran down one way, for some reason Frank followed instead of going the other way which would have been smarter. 

After looking down both ways, I came to the conclusion Billie Joe had outrun us. My hands dropped to my knees, bending over and panting heavily. As I caught my breath Frank asked, "What was that about Y/n?"

I shot him a perplexed expression. What did he mean? 

"What the fuck? You didn't see that too?!" I questioned, confused. 

"See what?" He asked, equally confused.

"You're telling me you didn't just see that Billie Joe guy walking down the hall with a giant fuckin' bloody butcher knife in his hands?" I said with astoundment. 

"No, I didn't. But I can tell you know what you saw. I believe you fully, damn." He said shaking his head. 

We took a minute to collect ourselves before having to deal with the problems that just arose in those mere five minutes. It's so terrifying how five minutes can mean life and death; That just a short interval of time can change so many lives. 

"I was sure it was that fucker Pete that killed her, but were we wrong," Frank said breaking the slight silence that overtook us while we were trying to calm ourselves. 

"Yeah, we gotta analyze this scene and track Billie Joe down, which I don't think will be an easy task in this ten-story hotel. Especially now that he knows we're onto his ass." I spoke while moving my hands to rest on my hips. 

"Yeah, we better get a move on then," Frank responded before walking down the hall into the lobby with me following suit.

That morning the case got a whole lot more complicated. It was in fact not as easy as it portrayed itself to be.