Gerard was moving into an apartment, finally able to get out of his parent's basement and he was moving with his boyfriend, Frank, which made things better than they were already.

They had found it cheap, but there was nothing they could find wrong with it, the plumbing worked, there wasn't any pests or bug infestation, the heat worked, and nothing was rotted out or peeling away from the walls, either way, they weren't going to turn away from the apartment.

It all seemed like all was going to be well.

There was never any problems with the apartment, though Gerard always felt a little off when he was alone, there was always this feeling that he was being watched, and he could never shake the feeling that eyes were boring into him, keeping tabs on everything he did. It creeped him out but he dismissed those feelings with the idea that it was his over active imagination, and the unfamiliarity of not being around someone who was in the house all day.

Then there was the time that Frank had a gig late at night and he was working on a painting so he stayed home that night, he had the sensation that someone was looking over his shoulder, but every time he turned around no one was there, and he knew that, of course no one was going to be there, yet each time Gerard felt the need to check, just to be sure.

It was also that night, when he went to bed, that he rushed to throw on his sweatpants and baggy shirt that he usually went to bed in, the feeling of being watched overriding his senses. He made sure the windows were locked tightly, the blinds drawn shut. Gerard even went so far as to keep the light in the hallway on so that a crack of light splayed out onto his side of the bed, comforting him in some odd way. He was never scared of the dark, but that night just gave him the chills.

He was just about to drift to a peaceful sleep when he heard footsteps sounding off in the hallway.

Gerard glanced over to the doorway, expecting Frank to walk in, he could make out a shadow near the door, but it stopped right before the opening at the door.

He sat up, "Frank?" He mumbled, confused as to why he didn't just walk in.

The door suddenly swung open, slamming against the wall, causing Gerard to jump from where he was, his heart racing when no one was behind the door, the shadow gone.

He never told Frank what happened that night, pushing it away, into the folder of bad dreams, that he imagined it all and it never happened.

It was the few nights that Frank would be out that the same thing would happen, and each night the shadow would hover there longer and longer.

Gerard was scared to say the least, but whenever he gained the courage to check the lock, nothing had been touched or tampered with, and he couldn't explain what was going on.

Then, one night it was suddenly and un-expectantly so much worse.

Frank was at a gig and Gerard needed to finish a project for a gallery he was being presented in, and that night Gerard was so tired that he fell asleep almost instantly when he hit the pillow.

It couldn't have been so long before he had fallen asleep that he felt a pressure holding him down onto the bed. Gerard tossed and turned in his sleep, not fully aware of what was happening until he felt a cold pressure in his chest and his eyes shot open, hazel eyes scared and looking into the pitch black.

His first response was to sit up and look where that had come from, but when he tried to move, he couldn't.

Flailing wildly he felt his wrists pinned down on either side of his head, but he couldn't see anyone, not even a shadowy figure that could be doing this to him.

The blanket was tossed off of his body by what appeared to be a gust of wind, Gerard's body tensing as he felt hands pushing up his shirt, sliding along his body, but no one was there. And he knew this wasn't a dream, it felt to real for it to be anything but real.

He hissed in pain as he felt dagger like claws scratching at his skin and he felt blood trickle down his body, his shirt turning cold and wet.

Tears fell past his bright eyes, stomach twisting as he felt something slimy against his throat, what felt like teeth biting down hard, one long nail caressing his cheek, drawing blood in a long harsh line.

Then there was a pressure on his throat, a low growl coming from somewhere in the bedroom that vibrated through the walls. Gerard couldn't breathe and he struggled to move, but that invisible force kept him pushed down into the bed.

There was a click of a lock and a door being opened, Frank was home.

And then there was nothing. The power and strength that was holding Gerard down, touching him, scratching him, biting him, was gone, it just vanished.

Frank heard sobbing coming from their room, his feet picking up the pace as he raced into the bedroom, throwing on the light, eyes wide with shock and horror with what he saw.

Gerard was curled up on his side, wrists completely covered in black and purple bruising, fingerprints standing out against pale skin. His night shirt was soaked in blood, and it was rolled up, showing the marks that were etched into his skin. Gerard's neck was much the same as his wrists, with disgusting bites littering his neck and collarbone.

He rushed to his side, cradling Gerard in his arms, not caring about the blood that was staining his clothes now. He tried asking what happened but over and over again Gerard swore that he didn't know, no one was there, and he didn't see anyone.

Frank looked into his panic stricken eyes and it was hard not to believe that fear that was radiating from his body.

For a few weeks after that incident Frank never left Gerard home alone. He would try and stay home during the day and at night, Gerard would go with Frank to his gigs so he didn't have to be alone in the house.

Today Gerard felt safe enough to let Frank visit a friend, it was during the day so that made him more comfortable. But not long after Frank left more activity started up again. The feeling of being watched was there again. He walked into the storage room, which was what he used to paint in, though, looking at the blank canvas were the words, dripping in fresh black paint

"You're Mine"

A rush of cold air pierced his body bringing him to his knees, head spinning, he felt as though he'd been thrown in a container full of ice.

Visions of the past flooded his mind, dancing across his eyelids.

A large man watched as a woman in a long flowing dress, her loose black curls framing her pale face as she packed up her belongings. He could feel his pain, his sadness. He could feel her determination and her happiness that she was leaving him.

His vision blurred and he saw the same man, watching the woman from afar as she was embraced by another, this time, it wasn't sadness or heart ache that filled his emotions, it was anger and pure hate for her.

The man radiated the want, the burning need to make her suffer, to get revenge on the woman who broke his heart.

There was another flash and the man was dead, bullet wound to the head, the gun in on the floor next to him, a photograph lying under the weapon. A picture of a beautiful woman, black curls around her face, pale skin showing against the darkness of her dress, her hazel-green eyes staring out of the picture.

Gerard gasped as he was brought back into the present, leaning back against the wall, not trust his legs to stand. He recognized that woman, he'd seen her in old photo albums of his family, it was his great-great grandmother.

Nothing seemed to happen after that, but Gerard was still wary about staying home by himself, so, whenever possible, if Frank was gone he was too, whether it was at the park or running meaningless errands, he did them, if only to get out of the house.

Though it was one night while Frank and Gerard were cuddling with each other, just holding onto each other, enjoying the quiet and peacefulness of the night, it was then that it started up again. There were footsteps that sounded like they were coming from inside the apartment, but both of them ignored them, thinking, hoping that it was just people walking up and down the hallway.

They both jumped when they heard something crash from right behind them, both turning around on the couch to see what it was.

Nothing was there.

Relaxing back into each other's arms they felt a little on edge.

Frank held Gerard close, feeling him shaking in his arms.

Then a voice pervaded the air. Calling out in whispers, Frank and Gerard both were sitting up on the couch, a brush of air blowing Gerard's hair from his face.

"You…you look so much like her… she left me… I never got my revenge on her… but here you are… so much like her… you have her talent… her hair… even her eyes…" It faded out.

A gust of power had Frank and Gerard pulled apart, each thrown into opposite walls.

Dazed and confused Gerard tried to go over to Frank, but he was grabbed by an unseen force, pulled into the bedroom, Frank running after him, cursing as the door closed and locked from the inside.

In the bedroom Gerard was flung onto the ground, eyes locked on the door, Frank calling out to him, but Gerard couldn't speak, it was as though his ability to speak had abandoned him.

Looking into at the corner where the black mass was he watched as it transformed into the man he saw in those visions.

He struggled as he moved away from the figure, walking backwards until his back hit the wall, his eyes still wide in fear.

Gerard tried to move away, but was stopped by the man, his eyes filled with bitter hatred.

"Wh- why are you doing this? It…it was so long ago, she was…happy."

The man lifted his hand, gripping Gerard's throat, a warning grip, tightening just enough to scare him, but not to kill.

"Exactly. She married that bastard. She left me for him. My heart broke that day, and I wanted to break her. I never got the chance, I ended it too early. But now fate is in my favor, she brought you to me, the spitting image of her," he brought his other hand to caress Gerard's face, thumb rubbing gently against his cheek.


For a moment the man looked into his eyes, the man's harsh ones softening for a moment before growing cold and icy, tossing Gerard onto the bed.

He moved to get up, but like before, was pushed back down, hands left immobile. He tried to find some way off of the bed, Frank's pounding on the door never ceasing, still calling out to Gerard.

The man turned his head toward the door, "He cares for you so much, I've watched you two. It's disgusting how happy you two can be. I thought that seeing you after I was done with you would be enough to disgust him enough to run off, unfortunately, I was wrong. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to work twice as hard, leave a few scars here and there. I'll be nice and I won't kill you, I want to see him reject you as she did me, I want him to look at you like you're filth, as if you're too dirty to be in his presence. I want you to feel that pain of someone you care about so much, someone you love with all of your heart leave you, I want your heart to break, and I want you to break."

He straddled Gerard, pulling his shirt up so he could see the milky white skin, his nails growing to form claws, and he went to work, marking the cuts deeper, the blood seeping through the wounds, staining his nails that have craved this life force for unimaginable years. Smirking when he felt Gerard's body stiffen, his eyes bright with pain.

He dug in deeper, marking the skin with criss-crossing lines, leaning back he pulled away Gerard's jeans, hands gripping pale thighs, a cry of pain leaving Gerard's mouth as he etched in more marks, scaring the flesh.

The man wasn't done; he wanted his body to be ugly. Turning Gerard over he leered as his body shook with pain and fear.

This time, taking a dagger he had planned to use on his lost love he wrote in "whore" and "slut" into his back, deep and jagged lines written in blood.

Gerard felt the words being carved into his skin, the man repeating the words over and over again in his hear, the voice echoing in the room, a haunting melody that never ceased and rang into his ears like an unholy hymn of hate and disease.

He felt the cuts scraped against his clothes, he let the tears fall, and he was so scared so lost in these unfathomable events and it seemed like it would never end.

Until it did, the cold body above him released him from the deathly hold and the door flung open, Frank flying in there, rushing his way over to Gerard, so scared to touch him, he didn't want to hurt him anymore than he was already.

Gerard flinched when he saw Frank's face, he didn't know what he wanted to happen, but he knew that he wanted Frank to hold him, he needed to feel safe.

Frank cautiously moved to Gerard, hesitant to touch him, but when he looked in Gerard's eyes it wasn't fear, but undeniable want that filled them. He pulled Gerard close, sighing as Gerard clung to him, and he clung back, determined to never let go of him.

So lost in each other they never saw the man watching them, a burning hate surrounding him as he disappeared into the shadows.