Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > I've got a dirty, little secret.. Or maybe one to many.7 Reviews
Frank and Mikey rush over to Gerard. Gerard's frightened, cowering in the corner. But Frank doesn't know what the hell he's done wrong..
The rain pounds down on the window screen in a steady beat. A never ending beat.. It adds more suspense in the brisk air; the eerie moon radiating white streaks through the oynx, ebony sky. It's stares down at us, smirking at us, mocking us. It's silver glow is getting bigger and bigger every mile we go, always getting closer to Gerard. Which leads me to think; what the fuck happened? What's he done? Is he hurt? Dead? Ill? Gone?
I shiver violently; the clanking sound of my skinny bones is almost audible.
"What d'you think's wrong with him?" Frank asks from beside me. He was going to stay at ours tonight, but after hearing the news about Gerard, he didn't want to. He got flustered and worried, his hands fidgeting. They still are; they're squirming in his lap like a fish out of water.
"I don't know," I say simply, my grip around the steering wheel increasing. "I just hope he's not deceased."
Frank's eyes widen. "You were considering that?!" he asked.
I shrug, trying not to think about my brothers limp, white corpse lying on the floor, eyes glazed over, gooey blood leaking from his mouth and trailing down his chin, leaving huge, scarlet puddles on-
"Mikey?" Frank waves his hand in front of my face and I blink once before returning back to reality. "Did you take you anxiety tablets today?" he asks.
"Yes,." I reply, knuckles turning white from the pressure I'm pressing on the rubber wheel.
Frank sighs, "Well, you just missed Gerard's house."
I blink stupidly, I did?
"Oh," I say.
I swerve the car around easily, seeing as there's no one in the road, and pull into the driveway. The lights are on, blurry rays leaking out of the front window. The cream blinds are closed, muffling the power of the luminous glow. I pull the keys out from the ignition and step out the car, the damp, shining concrete beneath my trainers squelches.
Frank and I lift our jackets above our heads and run to the door, banging on it furiously. It opens immediately, a very disgruntled, weeping Lindsey crying before us.
I walk in, taking my coat off and pulling her into a tight hug. "Hey, it can't be that bad.." I coo, also trying to reassure myself.
She nods frantically, puffy, red eyes looking up at me. Her pale face is tear-stained, makeup run completely.
"He's drunk," she whispers, pointing to the living room.
I feel a flood of emotion overcome me at once: anger, disappointment, sadness, grief, pain.. more anger.
I release my grip of her, apologizing for what I'm about to do. I walk calmly into the living room, spying my very anxious, very drunk brother sitting nervously on the edge of his seat, head buried in his palms.
"Gerard," I say.
His head shoots up and he stares at me with dead, pleading eyes. He's stressed, very stressed, obviously. "Mikey!" he squeaks. "I-I'm s-sorry! I'm sorry!"
I shake my head. "How the fuck could you?! After all the shit we went through last time?! What, are you doing cocaine again too, Gerard?"
He rapidly shakes his head, tears spilling down his face. "I read something," he whispers.
"I swear to god, if you're drunk because you read a stupid fanfict-"
"No, no no no!" he slurs, stumbling to his feet.
I gag - he stinks of alcohol.
"Gerard, how could you?!" Frank enters the room, hands on his hips, glaring.
Gerard's eyes widen and he jumps onto the couch, curling into a ball.
"Gerard?" I say, edging closer.
"Don't let him near me!" he spits, glaring at Frank.
Frank's eyes widen, his face plastered in utter confusion and pain.
"Gerard, I haven't done anything," Frank says softly, approaching Gerard slowly.
Gerard starts shaking madly.
"Look, I'm going to put Lyn-z to bed; she's traumatized, Gerard." I frown at him, watching sorrow and pain take over his expression. "You two sort out whatever you need to. I'll be back down to talk to you soon," I say, leaving the room.
"Gerard," Frank starts, "Whatever I did I'm sorry, I-"
"You're a murderer!" I accuse, glaring at my best friend.
Frank's jaw drops to the floor, eyebrows raised. "No, I'm not," he says calmly, sitting next to me.
I start shaking, especially when Frank puts his hand on my knee. "I read your diary." My voice is cold, lifeless in every shape and form.
"You did what?!" he asks, voice rising about 10 octaves.
"I read-d the entries," I mumble. "How you ra-ped-ped that girl, killed that man, hurt Sweetpea."
Frank's completely flabbergasted, befuddled, hurt. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he says. "This is my only diary." He pulls out a book from his bag, completely similar to the one I read. It's creases, colour, shape, size.. I yank it from my best friends hands, reading the entries thoroughly. I decide to read the entries I read in the other diary:
Oh God, I just came downstairs to find Sweetpea battered. She's broken a rib, bleeding all over the floor. Her whimpers scalded my ears and I couldn't help but cry. My favorite dog, my Sweetpea, broken and battered.
"No.. no, in entry 10 you hurt Sweetpea," I frown.
"No, I didn't Gerard. I woke up and found her like that," he says, placing his hand on my shoulder sympathetically.
He thinks I'm crazy.
I shake my head, burying my face in the book again.
Nothing eventful happened today, only a pretty gruesome news report.. Some poor man had been found in an alley way, bruised and stabbed, along with a women. She had several punctures in her ribs and died. She was supposedly a prostitute, so maybe the abusive men did it to her.
Poor girl.. you try to make a living in the only way you can and get killed.
"You.." I look up to Frank, "I.."
"I'm sorry?" Frank says, rolling his eyes in disbelief. "That isn't the reason you got drunk, is it? You thought I was a murderer?"
I nod. "You.. you did such bad things in that diary. Raped, beat, killed.." I visibly gulp, crying into my clammy hands.
Frank however, pulls me into a tight hug, rocking me back and forth.
"So you've sorted things?" Mikey asks, walking back into the room. He's glaring at me, expression hurt.
We both nod.
"Good, I'll go make us some coffee," Mikey says, and he runs out of the room.
There's a small, questionable silence, Frank's grip on me getting tighter and tighter, more and more painful.
"Frank," I moan, breaking from his grasp. His eyes flash, devilish smirk forming on his face.
His eyes aren't him anymore, they're evil, thick, crazed, manic.
"You shouldn't have read my diary, Gerard."
AHHHHH! Longer chapter because I love you. :3
Who thought Gerard was going crazy for a minute there?