Disgusting (Frerard)

Chapter seventeen - blood

Chapter seventeen - blood


Two updates in two days. My, aren't you lucky?

Special thanks to @iamBATMAN99 and @Planetary_Penguin who guessed two of my top five favourite songs, 'I'm not okay' and 'headfirst for halos' (if you don't know them, then SHAME ON YOU THEY ARE BEAUTIFUL).

Anyone who guesses one of my two favourites EVER gets a dedication on the next chapter.

Oh, and a little warning for this chapter: DEATH. People getting shot, good and bad, and some dude being really pervy towards a baby :/

Sadness ensues.


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Hargreaves’ office had very low security. Gerard just had to pick the lock and we were in. But the baby was nowhere to be seen and the vice president found us almost straight away.

“You disgusting blacks,” he hissed. “How did you get out of jail?”

“We broke out,” Bob shrugged.

“I want my fucking baby back,” Donna said through gritted teeth.

“What, and you thought I was just going to give it to you?” Hargreaves asked scornfully.

“She’s not an it!”

“And she’s not yours. Guards!”

“Give me back my little girl!” Donna cried.

“No. Your little girl is going to be my test subject,” Hargreaves smiled sadistically, lifting the baby from a cot underneath his desk.

“Get your hands off her!” Donna screamed, trying to attack, but Gerard braced his arms around her and held her back.

“In fact, I’m not sure I really need her for my long term project… I could just kill her now,” he mused.

“You hurt that kid and you’re dead, Hargreaves,” Bob growled. “Put her down.”

“I do what I like, and I don’t take orders from children,” the vice president said condescendingly.

“Oh, I’m not a child. I’m the most pissed sixteen year old you will ever meet. And I have a gun.” Bob pulled a pistol from his belt and cocked it. “One wrong move and you’re dead.”

Hargreaves smiled and slowly pressed two fingers into the baby’s throat. A white mark formed around his fingers on the child’s dark skin. “A pulse,” he said in a deep velvety voice, making me feel sick. “Blood pumping around the body. The revolting feeling of a live child in your arms–”

A loud crack tore the air and Donna stood, staring at the gun in her hands. Bob stared at her in shock. He stared at his empty hands. Donna dropped the revolver on the floor.

Hargreaves froze, paling. Bob quickly took the baby from his arms as he fell to the floor. Dark red coloured his white shirt, spreading down his stomach, and blood leaked out the side of his mouth.

"Don't you ever insult my child again," Donna hissed.

"Bitch," Hargreaves spat, blood staining his teeth.

"Yeah," Donna shrugged. "But you're a bastard."

"I know." He smiled again. A dirty smile that I wanted to wipe right off his face.

"Stop smiling," Bob snapped. "You're disgusting."

Hargreaves just smiled even wider, chuckling under his breath.

"You've left me no choice," Donna said.

"Let's stop him smiling," Bob said.

Donna picked up the gun. She fired two more bullets. One in Hargreaves' chest. One in his head.

Blood splattered his face, and he stopped laughing. His eyes were vacant and glossed over, and his skin was white, almost blue-tinged. Blood splashed his pale skin in messy patterns, covering most of his face– but you could still see his twisted smile.

Donna kicked his corpse. "Bastard."

Gerard looked like he couldn't breathe. His eyes were filled with fear and confusion. The shock of the reality of it was hitting him hard: his mother was a killer.

I gently put an arm around him. "Gee," I said softly. "It's okay."

He was shaking. Terrified. I rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. It left a white mark. Gerard didn’t care. Or notice. "Oh my god," he said weakly, eyes fixed on Donna.

"Yeah.”

"Oh my god."

"Gerard."

"Oh my god."

"Gerard, honey. Calm down." The nickname just slipped out, but it didn't seem to faze him. He was still completely frozen.

Everyone was still. We were all trying to process that what had just happened was real. Now we had a proper reason to be put in jail. Now Donna was a killer.

Loud footsteps, thundering closer and closer, were what brought us all back to focus.

“Guards,” Bob said. “Run.”

“Where?” Ray asked.

“Just run!”

Bob did a pretty good job of running while still keeping the newborn in his arms held safely, her little head supported and her neck not turned backwards. She was colouring his arms and chest black as coal, and I was turning Mikey’s shoulders white where I was carrying him, but I think we’d all decided to screw being careful for now.

The escape was going exceedingly well so far, I had thought, until we reached a dead end. Well. It wasn’t exactly a dead end. It was the president’s office. And there was no way in hell we were going in there.

“What now?” I asked, the panic rising in my voice.

“Uh,” Bob mumbled. “Wait for the guards to catch up. Gerard, you take the kid." He handed the small child to Gerard, who carefully took her from his arms, cradling her like she was the most fragile thing in the world. "You guys all stay back here," Bob said. "I’ll take ‘em down.”

“And then?” I asked.

“And then we run.”

----

The footsteps were getting louder and louder. Like rolling thunder, or a constant hail of bullets. The men wore metal soled shoes, and there were a whole lot of them.

They finally came into view. There must have been about twenty of them. I don’t know how Bob summoned the bravery to take on that many trained fighters.

He made the first move. Kicked the front man in the head, knocking him to the floor. Then they all started to fight back, throwing punches and trying to shock him with tasers. He just kept dodging it all. In around a minute, he had taken out half the men. It was all over before it felt like it had started.

"That," I said, "was frighteningly impressive.”

"Thanks," Bob said. "Now let's get out of here."

We hurried down the corridor, looking for an exit. The place was a maze. Every time we felt like we were getting closer to escaping, we reached a dead end.

Bob growled in frustration. "There's got to be some way out of this fucking place."

"All we have to do is keep looking," I insisted. "Come on."

We kept moving, kept searching for an exit that we were apparently never going to find. It seemed futile until Mikey pointed out the huge EXIT sign above our heads.

"Oh," Bob said.

I was suddenly filled with this sense of hope and relief. It felt like everything was going to be okay after this. We were almost out. We were going to make it.

The door was in sight. It was a huge door, with a large, rather obvious green button next to it. No code. Nothing. Just a green button and a door handle.

"This is a bit suspicious," Ray said uncertainly.

"Look. Who cares?" Bob said. "Let's just risk it. It's either this or we go back to our cells."

Ray pressed the button.

The door opened up to a large rectangular room, with grey washed walls and a single door at the opposite end to us with one big final EXIT sign above it. It was just a room. An empty room.

And then everything happened too quickly and I could barely process it. Guards appeared behind and in front of us, barging in through the door at the end of the hallway and the door we'd just come through.

We all just stared at them in shock for a moment.

Then the sound of a shot being fired pierced the silence, and like piercing an aerosol can, everything seemed to explode at once. Mikey screamed and Donna crumpled to the floor. The guards all bustled past us and disappeared. That was all they'd come to do.

"Shit. Shit, what do we do?" Ray asked in a panicked voice, putting Mikey down and letting him scramble over to his mother.

Gerard dropped to his knees, the baby still in his arms. The expression on his face was so sad there was no way to describe it.

"Mom," Mikey said in a small voice.

The council hadn't been kind. Donna had been shot in the throat. She was choking on her own blood.

"What do we do?" Gerard asked in a hoarse voice.

Bob was silent. I was silent.

"What do we do?" Gerard asked more frantically, terror filling his eyes.

I didn't know what to say. There was nothing we could do. We were going to lose her.

"Tell me what to do!" he screamed in a broken voice, tears spilling down his face.

"I don't know," I said quietly.

"There's got to be something we can do," he said desperately, holding tightly to his mother's arm as she clutched at her throat and coughed up an endless stream of clotted blood.

I shook my head, tears threatening to spill from my own eyes. "I don't know." My throat was dry and closed up. I felt like I was going to be sick.

Donna's gasps for air were getting weaker. Her hand fell limply to her side, slicked with blood.

"Mom," Gerard said in a small voice.

Donna tried to open her mouth without blood leaking out. She coughed and gasped, trying to clear her throat. "Love you," she whispered hoarsely. She grasped Gerard's hand with the little energy she had left. "Look after– look after them."

Mikey and the baby. She wanted Gerard to take care of them. Gerard stared at her, eyes red and stinging, salty tear tracks down his cheeks.

She let out a strained sigh and her head fell back against the concrete in a sticky puddle of her own blood.

"Mom," Gerard said frantically, shaking her shoulders. "Mom. No. Get up."

Mikey just sat in silence, tears streaming down his cheeks. He gently closed Donna’s eyes with two fingers.

"No– what are you doing?" Gerard asked, his voice rising. "She's not dead," he cried.

“Gee,” Mikey said quietly. “She’s gone.”

“No,” he sobbed. “No, mom.”

“Gerard,” I said gently, taking a step towards him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

He flinched away. “Get away from me,” he croaked.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“Gee, we’ve got to go,” Mikey said.

“No– I can’t leave her–”

“Gerard–”

“Just go without me, I don’t care,” he said, his voice raw. “Take the stupid fucking baby and go.”

Mikey took the baby from his arms and backed away.

We all stood in silence as Gerard cried, clutching at his mother’s shoulders, begging her to come back. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. He could barely see. It was all just white, hate and hurt.

This was the start of the revolution.