Identity [Gerard Way] *Completed*

Chapter Three

My whole body jumps when I hear the noise, and I instinctively grab the door handle and swiftly swing it open, revealing an empty red couch. Oh. My captor isn't there anymore. Wonder where he is, then?

Oh. Right. He's obviously wherever that noise just came from. Duh.

I inch out from the room, peering to the right, around the corner. I don't even realize I'm doing this. It feels like I'm watching everything, not doing it. Even as I rush over, towards the noise, the regret in my stomach doesn't feel like my own.

Hazel Eyes is getting up from the floor, in a room which I suppose is the kitchen, a plate smashed by his side. I squint at him for a moment. What on earth? He doesn't seem like the type to clumsily drop things. But I guess that's all this is, isn't it? Yeah. He probably just wasn't paying attention when he grabbed the plate from the cupboard, and this is the aftermath. Wow. I'm stupid, aren't I? The stab of realization hits my stomach, and it comes to me that there was no actual use in rushing out over this accident.

He gets up.

I gasp on accident and slowly back away. The guy -who I guess I'm now calling Hazel Eyes- is walking towards me, an angry expression on his scratched face. Scratches that I hadn't noticed before.

There's something, though... something a little off about him right now.

But, hey, maybe there isn't. I don't know him. How he acts.

Feeling uncomfortable under his eyes, I speak up, clearing my throat."Sorry, I, uh, just heard the crash and..." I trail off, not sure where I'm even going with this. Yeah, I totally have this figured out! Great job, Lynx.

"Just- go back into your room." He sighs, raising a crooked finger and pointing to the bedroom door. "Go."

I shift my gaze from left to right. "Can I ask you a question-"

God, I don't even know why I'm talking anymore. I should be back in that room by now.

"No." Comes the sharp response. Well, as sharp as his voice can get, anyway. It seems like the only volume level his voice goes up to is the lowest one possible. So, it's kinda hard to tell if he's mad, or just plain irritated with me. Uh, probably both, though. And then he shoots me this cold stare from where he's standing, advancing closer towards me.

And then there are pale hands around my wrists, pushing me back into the bedroom, and I'm pretty much helpless against him. You know, because I'm caught off guard. It's not like I can't fight back for myself...

Okay. I can't. I'm basically the equivalent of a stick.

Still, I try to struggle against it, but he's obviously much stronger than me. In fact, anyone could be stronger than me, actually. So, for him, this must be the easiest thing in the world.

I give up right away, already exasperated, letting him shove me onto the cold hardwood floor. I cringe when my elbows hit the ground. Gosh, it's cold. And down here, I'm sure I can feel Hazel Eyes standing in the doorway, his shadow looming over me. Then he closes the door.

And I am left with myself.

***

My eyes are opening now. As much as I don't want them to, they are. And there's awful sunlight, attacking my eyes. It stings. Badly. So, I shut them once again, the strain hurting my eyes, which are used to the dark, murky feeling of the sewer.

My aching body decides to get up, and I stretch out my arms, screwing up my face. That is not how I thought things would go. I mean, I get that this guy is not exactly nice, but why'd he have to shove me back so forcefully? And why is he treating me like I'm a prisoner? I have a lot of questions to ask now.