Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > I've got a dirty, little secret.. Or maybe one to many.6 Reviews
"My heart started thumping faster.. faster. Mind spinning, thoughts blurring. It's not real. It's not real."
I gulp, tucking into a ball on my bed.
I don't know what to do.. Watching people have even a glimpse of happiness, it tears me.
I furiously wipe a tear away from my pale cheek and look up from my tattooed fingers, staring myself in the mirror across from me. It's bright and gleaming, obviously new, framed with glossy light wood and sitting on a desk. I didn't bother turning on the light when I came in, so with the blinds and door closed, it's practically pitch black.
There's an beautiful, pink orchid sitting on the desk next to my bed.. and it feels as if it's mocking me. The orchid is Lindsey's and Gerard's life; beautiful and tamed. But mine looks like a dark, wild, coarse hedge; broken in every single way.
I'm still staring at myself in the shining glass, my sad, hazel looking back it me. My short, soft hair is sticking up everywhere and there's very slight bags under my unblinking eyes. My nose is small, too small for my liking, and my plump lips blend into my face. I've got pale skin, covered with intricate masterpieces, and my face is dull, washed out, pained.
I exhale deeply, staring at the picture of Lindsey, Bandit and Gerard. They've got all these amazing memories. Funny ones, kind ones, small ones, great ones. And what have I got? A shattered heart and a broken memory. That's all. I remember nothing from few periods of times and if I do, they're normally not good.
I shiver wildly as my most recent memory crawls into my mind.. Although, it never left, I suppose. It's always there.
"Jamia! I'm home!" I called with a grin on my face. No reply. "Jamia?!" I sighed and checking the fridge for any notice of where she's gone, I was surprised. She always left a note on the fridge, telling me what time she'll be back and where she's gone.
What if she's cheating on you, Frank?
I drown out the voice in the back of my head. It's nothing; it's my thoughts. It has to be. I pulled some coke out of the fridge, listening intently as it sloshes into the shining cup.
The voice suddenly cackles, 'You know where she is, Frank. Go on, look upstairs. Cry. Weep. I beg of you.'
Upstairs? I normally wouldn't listen to it, but if it knew something.. I took the coke in my hands, the cold glass glistening; cooling my warm palms. I started to jog up the soft, fluffy stairs. Maybe she's 'excited?'
I grinned. It could've been that.
Or she's dead, the voice teased.
I froze on the top step as the voices words swim in my mind, echoing. It was getting louder, taunting me, breaking me. For some reason my heart started racing at the few words, palms growing clammy, knees shaking.
No, no.. it's not true. I shook my head rapidly.
Pulling myself up the last stair, I made a break for the bedroom, shaking off my jacket.
"Jamia," I started. "I've be-"
My words cut off, jaw dropped open; a gasp wanted to escape but never quite made it. Everything turned numb. My heart started thumping faster.. faster. Mind spinning, thoughts blurring. It wasn't real. It's wasn't real.
You tell yourself that, the voice laughed.
But I could barely hear it's raspy tone; my eyes were fixated on my wife's limp body. Hot, seeping blood poured out of her belly, her skin as white as snow, tight and leathery. Her eyes were vacant, lifeless, but you could still see the flash of terror that she had once held. Her blue mouth was ajar; her screams rung in the air around me. Although it was silent.. they were there.
The strong, rotten smell of her decaying flesh was lingering around my nose, stroking me, tormenting me. Her fruity, gorgeous perfume is still there and it made me want to stab myself, to forget. To run away, escape.. forever.
I shivered, trembled; it was almost like she was there. But she was gone. Gone.
My cup clattered the the ground, the glass exploding into tiny little shards. The dark, fizzing liquid bubbled on the floor, attacking it.
Whimpering, I collapsed to my knees in a flow of hurried, heartbreaking sobs. "This isn't happening," I whispered, placing my head in my clammy palms. Even when I closed my eyes her mangled, defunct body haunted my mind.
"No. It's not happening, it's not happening." Cold tears of anger and despair leaking out of my eyes. "This can't be happening," I wailed. "It isn't."
But the voice laughed, almost like it was pointing an accusing finger. Oh, but Frank, it grinned maliciously. This is real. This is all too real..
Thank you for reading, once again! I'm sorry this isn't as long as the first chapter.. Still, I hope you liked it! R&R? :) xx