Depression does this to the best of people.
Lauren's Current Inspirations:"Leave Out All The Rest" by Linkin Park ,Queen Elizabeth II coming to my home town in May,my cat.
WARNING:this contains self harm and violence in general.
"You know,this has been the first time in weeks we've been alone together,"I scold Gerard,who is currently doing a pretty good vampire impersonation-that is,sucking on my neck,not being a sparkly anorexic insomniac-(zing!)."This new album better be worth all this damn work."
He sighed,causing hot steam to rush against my neck.My stomach stirred uncomfortably.Gerard certainly knows how to make me squirm.
"Look,baby,"he says,withdrawing form my neck,"I can just tell The Black Parade will be great.All the studio work we've been doing recently will definitely pay off.Now,take off your pants,will you?"
"What are you,a hooker?"I ask irritably."Gerard,all you wanna do is have sex,you never want to talk."I sigh."I swear to God,you've been acting really weird lately."
Gerard sighs again,and gets off our bed."Fine.Whatcha wanna talk about?"
Shit.He's angry with me.
It would be so much better if he just yelled at me and got it over with;but Gerard is one of those complicated human beings who bottles it up and gets all defensive about it.Mikey does it too-it must be a specialty in the Way clan-but I get over that little twerp.(I love Mikey,but c'mon,he probably pisses off his own mother once in a freakin' while.)But with Gerard,my stomach tightens,and I start bargaining my life away.I can't fucking stand it when he's mad at me.
"Nothing,"I mummer,"I was just being stupid."
"No,no,"he says,his voice trembling with rage,"you wanted to talk.So,"he sits on the bed,"we're talking."
"Gerard,"I touch his hand lightly,"I'm sorry.I didn't mean it like that."
"Like what,Frank?"He asks,his face a dangerous shade of purple."What the fuck are you sorry for?I should be sorry,I'm the slut in this situation."
"Gerard,"I whimper,"please Gerard,you're freaking me out."
"Oh,well,I'm sorry,"he hisses,"that I can't be the perfect person you want me to be."
"Gerard,I never said that!"
"Sure,sure,"he heads for the door,"but you've thought it."
Tears are running down my cheeks in rivers,my heart beating against my ribs.
"Never,"I pant,"you're perfect to me."
I thought that would crack him;that he'd suddenly soften and pull me into a hug,begging for forgiveness.
I was wrong.
He stalks towards me.Up close he terrifies me;the unshaven face,his spectacular eyes that are always half-closed,he even smells different.I wonder if he's been drinking.
A few moments later,it's not simply an "if",but a "what".Vodka is my strongest inclination.
His face is only a few inches from mine.I close my eyes stupidly,waiting for him to calm down and stop what he's doing,stop this fucking insanity.
Instead of doing that,he lashes me across the face,catching my eye.The pain is immediate and sharp;Gerard is a lot stronger than me.It passes through my mind he could easily rape me.
No,my mind instructs me.Gerard would never fucking do that to you.
This isn't Gerard.That's the fucking problem.
"Please,"I whisper,my eye aching,already swelling up,"please,I'm so sorry."
"I'm sorry too,Frank,"he mutters,going out the door,"I'm so fucking sorry."
He leaves the bedroom,leaving me struck utterly dumb.Tears are unable to seep out of my left eye anymore,they just fall miserably form my right.Something attracts my vision briefly;my engagement ring.Seeing it makes me want to go back in time and just take off my pants.We would've fucked and just had a very pleasant afternoon together.
My thoughts are interrupted by the front door slamming.I don't even look out the window.I don't wanna know where he's going or what he'll do there.
I just want him fucking back.
My mind tells me I should ring Mikey;ring Ray or Bob;ring the fucking Pizza Hut guy if he's feeling generous.I decide to stay where I am,and ring nobody.I slide down the wall,so I slump against it,cradling my elbows.My eye shuts voluntarily.
C'mon Frankie,I'm ordered.Get off your ass and clean yourself up.Gerard'll be home soon,and he'll apologize.Everything will be okay,you big pansy.
I get up slowly,pain-stakingly.I hobble to the bathroom,and look in the mirror.My face is a blotchy red mess,the large purple spot around my eye standing out like a black hole.When I turn on the light it's even worse;there are flecks of mustard in the bruise too,which make me look jaundiced,and little gashes of blood on my eyelid.Jesus,he hit me really fucking hard.
I find a damp cloth and press it to my eye,making me wince and flinch when it touches the skin.I sit on the toilet and observe the surroundings Gerard and I have been sharing for four months.Four beautiful,peaceful months.My heart tugs when I think about him.He can't fucking stand me,but I adore him.I sneer at my feelings.
"My heart is such a fucking idiot,"I croak into the darkness.
Then something gleams in the dim glow of the mirror.
No my mind booms.
Fuck you I boom back.
I throw the cloth on the floor and go to the sink.No,that one's too blunt.I go to the cabinet and pick out a clean one.I remove it from the plastic and place it between my thumb and forefinger.Then I press it to my wrist quickly.
"Fuck!"I yell in pain.
Sure,it starts off bad;it always does.But once I get a good,regular rhythm it's fine.Enjoyable,even.I nick and slice at my skin,the blood flowing out fresh and thick.My pink tendons are raw and overused.I'm beginning to feel a little faint.
A car alarm suddenly shrieks,bringing me back to earth.I look down at my arm,realizing I've written something:
I turn away sharply,disgusted.I always preach against this sorta stuff and now I'm fucking doing it.
I hurl the razor into the bin,sending my suicidal feelings with it.I haul the First-Aid box from under the sink and find some bandaging.I strip from my clothes,and step into the shower.I try to wash away all the shitty,negative crap from my mind.The deep slits in my arm are cleaned,bled dry.I step out,feeling better.I dress the wound and put on a big black hoodie and pull the sleeves right down.I sniff it's musty aroma.It's Gerard's.
I look in the mirror one last time.My eye is still decisively violet and swollen,but at least the little cuts around it have cleared up.I put on a bit of the foundation Shannon left here a few days ago.It makes me a shade paler-Shannon is Irish,and in being so has very little direct contact with sunlight-but does a pretty good job on my eye.
After that,I glance at my watch.Nearly eight.He's been gone over an hour.
I walk out into our bedroom,and nearly jump out of my skin when:
I turn.Gerard is standing in the doorway,damp with rain.His hair is flattened to his head and his coat is streaked.
"Frankie?Can we talk?"
He motions towards the bed,where he proceeds to.I slowly follow him and sit with my knees tucked under my shin.
"Frankie."He moves towards me,and I flinch away.I can feel hot tears pricking at the back of my eyes.He moves again,and takes my hand in his."Frankie,I am so sorry."
I stay silent,staring at him.His hand is alarmingly near my wrist.
"You know I would never in my fucking life do something to intentionally hurt you,"he whispers,caressing my face,"I fucking hate myself...for...that."
By "that" I suppose he means my eye.
I still remain quiet,causing Gerard's brown to crease,his mouth to pull to the sides in a frown.
"I just wanted you to know that,"he mummers,"and if you want me to go fuck myself,I understand completely."He lets my hand down gently,but I grasp it back quickly.
"Gee,you need help."
"What...do you mean?"
"I..well..you hit me.And you've been acting kind've..."I struggle to continue,watching his face fall,"..weirdly lately."
A silence hangs between us.
"Gerard,"I state confidently,"we can get through this.I'm only saying this because I love you and wouldn't want to see you get hurt."
I notice that Gerard is crying.I've only seen him do that about twice;once when he was singing a particularly reminiscent version of Helena and the other time when I accidentally kicked him in the balls.
"As long as we're being honest here,I need to show you something."
He nods slowly,wiping at his eyes.
I pull my sleeve up gently,wincing.Every time the soft fabric brushes against the bandaging my veins scream in pain.I un-wrap the bandage,showing him the cryptic message.
"Oh,Frank,"he sighs,taking my wrist gently and moving closer to me,"please don't tell me you did this 'cause of me."
"Only because you left,"I reply quickly,"and I thought you weren't coming back."
He traces it lightly with his fingers,sending tingles down my spine.He leans down and kisses the scar,his soft lips soothing and cool.
"Please Gerard,"I plead,"please make an appointment with the doctor."
"If I get diagnosed with depression,I'll be a freak."He looks down,shaking his head,"I've always said stuff like "think happy thoughts",and it's like,practice what you preach,y'know?"
"Gerard,"I scold,sitting up,"that's bullshit."
He looks up,sniffing."What?"
"You heard me.One hundred per cent bull.Depression doesn't define a person,it's just something we have to deal with and move on.It doesn't even mean anything."
"It means you're insane."
"No it doesn't.What is "sane",anyway?"I question,cupping his chin in my hand."Or "normal"?Nothing's normal,or average,or what you should do.It's just some shit doctors use to describe someone,and what the fuck do they know?They're just sadists who like to see patients squirm."
He peers at me."Are you alright?"
"I'm fine,"I say,"we're gonna be fine."
There's a few moments of silence,until Gerard hums softly:
"Whispered words of wisdom,let it be."