It wouldn't matter if it was real or a product of my sick twisted mind
I froze, backing myself up against the wall. Getting as faraway form him as possible, with my gruesome injuries. The pain was minuscule, in fact i was numb. I was just incapable of feeling anything at this point but fear.
My double, my past, my former self that tormented me until i was a bleeding pulp of flesh on the floor, was now curled up crying like a infant. His greasy black hair obscuring his face. Yet i was still petrified. I knew he could snap at any minute and finish me off, tearing me limb from limb and it wouldn't matter if it was real or a product of my sick twisted mind....it would hurt. The tears he were now shedding were angry, filled with hate, for me? or for the ones he claimed 'we never needed'? Either way, i knew that the old me would have handled this in a violent manor, throwing household items, smashing things, attacking loved ones while in my intoxicated state. Was that really what he wanted me to go back to? I knew not to question him though, it would only leading to more physical and emotional agony.
I stayed there watching myself weep, for what seemed like hours? days? but was in actuality only a few minutes. I began to drift into my own thoughts, my defense mechanism had always been to coat every thing in fiction, to leave reality completely. I imagined what my life would be like if i had never ceased the addiction which held me in its clutches, i would almost certainly be dead, leaving my family to pick up the pieces of my short lived life and my friends (and the band) in ruins.
While lost in my head, i was unaware that the harsh sobbing sound that once filled the desolate room was replace with a eerie silence. My eyes snapped back into focus, adjusting to the darkness. I felt chills run down my spine. He had crawled forwards towards me, practically on my lap. He hair was like a veil over his face but i could still see his hazel eyes, now a pale grey devoid of any emotion. I could just about make out his face, and it was covered in blood. My blood. He had a arm out stretched and his claws around my throat. I could feel his long nails under my skin as he drew the crimson liquid from my veins.
''Pl-..Wh-a'' I couldn't protest, he was squeezing his hand too tight around my neck. Leaving red stains all over me. I could feel my airways close, as i struggled to breath. He started to use his other hand. I felt myself get dizzy and light headed. The room was spinning.
''Some say, now suffer all the children And walk away a savior'' He whispered in a low hushed voice filled with malice. They were my lyric's but the way he sung them made the song sound vicious and menacing. His grip tightened.
''Or a madman and polluted From gutter institutions'' Dark blotches danced in front of my eyes.
''Don't you breathe for me'' He sung harshly in my ear, grasping my neck tighter still.
''Undeserving of your sympathy'' The black spots began to consume my vision.
''Cause there ain't no way that I'm sorry for what I did'' My limbs grew heavy and i couldn't him off fight any more. All i could hear was my heart beat loudly in my ear's, the rhythm getting slower and slower. Before i gave way to the impending blackness, i heard the famous last words.
Where the Fuck was he?! We were suppose to be on 20 minutes ago. The chant's from the crowd were getting louder and louder. I didn't think the support band could keep them occupied any longer. Maybe Gerard just cracked under the pressure, freaked out and went to take a breather. Then why wasn't he back? He would never want to disappoint the kids. He had played stoned, drunk, sick never once missing a show even when he heard his grandma Elena passed away just before we went on stage. He was a wreck afterwards but he sung through the grief.
I had checked all the corridors backstage over six times and we had the whole crew looking for him. Poor Mikey was ripping his hair out looking for Gee! It was like de-javu. I had begun to pace nervously trying to think of anywhere i hadn't checked. It was then i noticed a small wooden trapdoor leading to one of the many empty storage rooms that this venue had. This one in particular led under the stage. It looked fairly old and was blocked off by several Amp's.
''I wonder'' I thought aloud. It was the one place i could think of, that we hadn't searched.
I pushed the Amp's aside to gain full access to the door.
''MCR...MCR....MCR'' the crowds chants grew angrier. We should be starting the set by now. I tugged at the doors wooden handle's but it refused to open. I tried again. It was as if they were stuck together. I felt my face grimace in frustration. He had to be in here, it was the only place left. But it wouldn't open. I scratched away at the splintered wood with my bitten nails but no avail. I groaned again, i was positive my friend was in here, i don't know why but he was. I decided it was this or nothing.
I whipped out my phone and punched in Ray's number.
''Dude, you find Gerard yet?'' he sounded out of breath.
''No but there's a locked storage room and it's the only place we haven't looked''
''Frankie, i don't think he'll be there, you gotta help Pedicone check the parking lot an-''
''Please Ray i know he's in here there no other explanation and he might be hurt or or pleaseRayyouhavetohelpme'' I pleaded desperately, my words jumbling into one another.
I heard him sigh on the other end.
''Okay Frank, i meet you there but after we get it open can we start looking properly?''
I nodded even though he couldn't see me.
''I know he's in there Ray...I just do''
Concerning any of my one shot's: I may continue them when i'm finished with this. i don't wanna have too much on my plate y'know. R&R my lovelies.