Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Murder Me Slowly

Anywhere Else, but Home

by AshTheDeathBat 2 Reviews

Hazel is just your normal girl, down on her luck. Then she meets Gerard Way, then her luck just seems to get worse. A curse, perhaps? Or, vampires. Which ever you prefer.

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama,Horror,Romance - Characters: Bob Bryar,Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Mikey Way,Ray Toro - Published: 2010/10/01 - Updated: 2010/10/02 - 594 words

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A/N: Hello there. I'm Ashley, if you haven't read any of my stories before hand. Welcome to the first chapter of Murder Me Slowly. This is a Gerard Way/vampire fic. Just to clear things up, this IS on Quizilla, I'm just revamping it because I feels like it. Capiche? Also, I wrote this before Twilight got big and stupid...er. (Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. Chill out if you get all defensive. It's a book with fictional characters.) Actually, I wrote it before I ever attempted to read Twilight. So that means, YES! I was into vampires BEFORE Twilight. Real vampires DON'T sparkle in the sun light. They burn, baby, burn. There you have it. Plain and simple.

Feed me some feedback, yo. I'll love you forever. :) This one will be complete, because I finished it forever ago.

Therefore: I do not own My Chemical Romance. I've never met My Chemical Romance. I've seen them in concert once. Yada, yada, Disclaim, disclaim. You get the picture.


“Just get out of here!” My mother yelled, pointing at the door. She was crying, again.

When I was younger, I hated seeing her cry. Now that I was older and wiser, I saw through her act. It brought a sense of happiness to me. I used to think that she was the best person in the entire world. Now, I see directly through her disguise.

She was actually the most selfish person anyone could ever meet in their life. All she cared about was herself. I’d been neglected as a teen. She never truly cared. I didn’t even know who my own father was, the filthy damn prostitute. Every time I even tired to talk to her, she pushed me away.

“I will!” I screamed, throwing as many clothes as I could into my messenger bag.

“Get out of my house!” She shrieked at me, throwing open the front door.

“You call this piece of shit shack a house?” I snapped at her.

“LEAVE!” She screamed.

“I hate you! I’ve always hated you. You good for nothing, fucking hooker.” I slammed the front door as I walked out.

The wind was blowing sharp and cold. It sent my hair flying wildly in the November air. I walked along the cracked Jersey side walk, tears streaming down my face. I could picture what my eye liner looked like now.

My tears weren’t because of sadness, or joy. They were a mixture of both.

It was the twenty-first of November, the day before Thanksgiving. That didn’t bother me as much as it should have. I’d been alone on Thanksgiving before because of that wretched woman.

I didn’t want to follow in her footsteps, but it looked as if it could be a good possibility. I was kicked out of my house and I had dropped out of school. The only thing that I was missing was the slutty clothes, and the millions of one night stands.

I stopped and looked at my reflection in a rearview mirror on a car. My dark brown hair streaked with purple highlights, was matted to my face. I pushed it away to see my face more clearly.

The tears had caused my eyeliner to bleed down my face. I hated that woman for kicking me out of the only place I had to call home. I hated my mom for kicking me out on this day of the year. After all, no one really wants to be alone on their eighteenth birthday.
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