Pete's POV

"It seems I've found you again. You won't be escaping this time."

Flashback

The blonde left. He left his brother alone. That was a bad idea. A man with a fro backs into the room and shoves himself into a corner. By the time be noticed us it was too late. The door was already locked. I turned back to the red head and leant over him.

His eyes are open and sightless. The splatter of blood across his face is so fine it almost looks like glitter. Deep red liquid pools under his neck, still dripping from his unmoving body. The puddle spreads as I watch, and the slice across his neck gapes in a grotesque display. I smile and straighten up before wrapping my hand around the long, cold metal handle of my baseball bat and bring it crashing down on his crimson covered body.

Half his chest caves in; I can hear and feel the bones crack and shatter, the vibrations running along the bat. Dents are visible in his head and his face is unrecognizable. "Gerard!" The brown, fluffy haired man behind me cries out at the broken and bloody body at my feet. I turn my attention to him and raise my hand grinning. "Hello Raymond." My hand comes down.

"Stay away from me." I warn the unshaven man in the doorway. "You should be locked away."

"As should you." He walks inside and closes the door. "I may have killed more people but I've never seen anyone who enjoys it more than you. You're fucked up, you're sick. You're insane. I like that." Bert laughs and looks around the room. "You've got a nice place here and by the looks of the guy that just left, a nice piece of ass too." And then he leaves. Just opens the door and walks out leaving me shaking and alone. I can feel the memories come swarming back. I attempt to push the black curtain over them, pull the heavy drapes in my mind across to push them out but they're too strong. I collapse to the floor, writhing in agony and clutching my head. No, please. Not this one.

Flashback

I step over fallen bodies and splash through crimson puddles. Some bodies are still moving, reaching out for me, brushing my ankles and begging me to help them. Pleading. I ignore them. I kick down the door in front of me and smile. The metal under my skin is cool and refreshing, smooth under my fingers.

Screams and cries fill the air. A few rooms away I hear gunshots resonate. The blonde man in front of me wraps his arms around himself. My arm shakes, unable to aim successfully at him. Why can't I do it? Why can't I just shoot him? Pain and loss shines through his eyes but there's no fear. Fuck it.

I toss the gun to the side and pick up a chair. The sound of metal hitting bone echoes around the empty room and he falls to the floor unconscious. I pick up my gun and leave. I couldn't do it. Not to him. I don't even know him. Who is he?

"Mikey."

Mikey's POV

"Where the fuck have you been?" Ah shit. I forgot about momma bear. "I've been with a friend. I meant to call but I forgot, I'm sorry." I shut the door behind me and kick off my shoes. I turn around to face a very pissed off midget. His expression softens and crumbles. He walks forward and embraces me, pulling me to close to him. "I'm sorry Mikes, just...after what happened I worry a lot and I don't want anything to happen to you. I can't lose you too."

I wrap my long arms around him and place my chin on his head. "I know Frankie, I understand where you're coming from. I miss him too." I'm aware of my shirt becoming damp and warm. Beneath my arms Frank shakes. I hear sobs come from the small man and tighten my grip on him. Neither of us move until he calms down. Frank pulls away and wipes his eyes. "Sorry. I just needed that." He apologises.

"It's fine, everyone needs to cry sometimes."

"But I swear all I do is cry! If I'm not crying or feeling like crying then I'm numb. I just feel nothing except empty like there's something missing. Like there's a black hole sucking in every single piece of happiness. I have no energy either. There's no motivation, no joy, no movement. I can't leave the house, I can't see or speak to anyone. I'm terrified of everything and I just don't want to do it anymore. There's just nothing Mikey. There's nothing." I know the feeling. Depression is not a stranger to me. "He's gone. The world keeps spinning, people keep living and the sun still shines. How? How can everything be normal when he's not here? How can people carry on when the one person that kept the world turning, the sun still shining, isn't here?" The last two words are whispers, following him as he flees from the kitchen.

Footsteps on the stairs and pounding on the ceiling before the slamming of a door indicates he's locked himself away and I'll be alone tonight. Again.

I sigh and pull out my phone. I need to speak to someone. How about Pete? My finger leaves dirty marks on the screen as I scroll through my contacts. Pete's name appears through the glass and the phone rings once, twice, thrice then he answers.

"Hello?" He sounds tired and shaky. "Hey it's Mikey."

"Oh hi Mikey."

"Are you Ok? You sound a little off."

"I'm fine, just a little shook." He let's out a dry laugh. "I had a little episode but I'm ok." I furrow my brow but not before realising he can't see me. "Anyway, why did you call?" I sigh and sit down on the table. "I just need to rant a bit. Do you mind?"

"No, not at all."

"Ok well as I told you earlier I lost my brother in that shooting. I just came home to his husband. As usual he was worried because I came back late. He stayed because I let him, I don't trust him on his own. It was a year ago but neither of us are over it; I realised something. Everyone gives him sympathy and compassion and no one cares about me. He might've been Frank's husband but he was my brother and it seems like everyone can be sad but me. I never had time to mourn him because I had to carry everyone else and be there for everyone else but what about me? When do I get to say that I need to talk to someone, I need help, I need my brother back because they might've lost a friend but I lost a brother."

Pete's silent. "Pete?"

"I have to go." And he hangs up leaving me alone with no one to care, no one to see and no one to hear me. No one to believe me. Believe that I'm drowning.

Believe that I'm dying.