I may or may not have been reading Neil Gaiman's Sandman a bit too much.
She's flying. Once again, she's flying. How many times has she had this dream?
Countless of times, and it's always her, flying.
She knows she's lost something. Something important, something that means the world to her.
Is it a photograph? Is it a photograph or a painting or an old bus ticket?
Maybe it's a bill from Rocco's, that cute little Italian place just around the corner.
Maybe it's the handkerchief he always used to clean his glasses. The feeling of his palms against her skin?
She can't remember, she can't, she never will.
She's so scared of forgetting.
Is he there? His breathing, he can hear it.
He mustn't be far. He can't be far, because if he's far it means he's lost him forever.
Lost who? The boy Michael or the child Frank?
The boy you grew up with or the child you love?
Protect them both, save his life since you've already lost the boy's.
He is the Father and he is protecting them.
Behind me, he says, protecting them from the flames.
He owes it to them.
He always will. He owes it to Michael and he owes it to Alicia.
The child screams.
He is walking in a forest. He is running and flying and swimming, and it's all at the same time. He is one and nothing and All.
He is God. He has played God. He has robbed her of her life because it was necessary.
But, nonetheless, he is walking and he is looking for her amid the blood-stained trees.
It is necessary. Necessary.
The smell of Death, and pain, and fear.
She is trapped. She wants to come down, but she can't.
She knows it's impossible: once you fly, you can never come back down unless the Mother says so.
Once you taste the clouds, there's no going back.
And clouds are puffy and creamy and cold ice cubes in glasses, glasses full to the brim with alcohol, or liquid fire, because he used to drink a bit too much and she's saved every bottle.
They said it's bad, the Mother said it was bad for her health, and she can feel the Mother's voice right now, a Good Beating is gonna teach you well.
Mommy I'm sorry, but her crying proves worthless.
Never again, I'll never do that again Mommy, but she knows the Good Beating will come anyway I'm sorry I'm sorry I love you.
It starts raining and the clouds dissolve.
The pain is necessary if you've been a bad boy.
That's the first thing they teach you, and they teach you by letting you understand it on your own.
That's how he learned and he's learning it right now, because he feels the coldness of glass inside of him, and the pain of someone jamming it deeper and deeper.
They are laughing. Their laughs are red and green and blue, and they color his dreaming.
The glass is the glass of a bottle, and the red is the red of the blood dripping down his thighs, and the red of his pain.
He wails like a baby and he knows it makes them hard.
He is running faster because he has seen her. She's playing in the fields, there is a puppy next to her.
I'm sorry, he screams, but she can't hear him.
He screams it again, she doesn't move, she's grey and black and white against the auburn sky.
Please turn around I need this.
He needs to save them. It's his only chance.
The only solution, the only hope.
You die so they can live.
The Father must perish so that the Loved Ones shall live.
It has always been that way. From generation to generation.
But he knows he will fail because he can't find them, they're already too far from him, the flames have already devoured them.
He calls her once more because he can't afford losing her. She is the only thing that makes him suffer. And he needs to suffer. Bad boys need to pay for their mistakes.
She moves. He realizes he doesn't want her to turn around because he knows what she'll be and she's bloodied and cut up and hurt, just like he remembers her. She's beautiful, though. Rotting, but beautiful.
Ray Toro has sex with a body in a field, dreams of lust and guilt and shame.
She's falling. The Mother has punished her and she is falling and slipping away. Her breath, she can feel it explode through her vocal cords.
Where is he, he was supposed to save her.
Earth comes reeling towards her.
She must remember her name and that's the only way, life in exchange of a name, but she can't find it, it's been ripped from her.
You've been a bad girl.
The Mother is back.
You don't deserve your name.
Alicia Simmons crashes into the Earth below her.
The air is knocked out of his lungs and his ears are filled with silence which burns and screams and scorches. He is alone and naked, covered in blood. Alone in the whiteness.
He is cold and lonely and alone, and the painful throbbing in the lower part of his back, he's forced to feel it every Goddamn night.
He lies down on the floor and his hands are covered in the blood of the innocent. He closes his eyes, squeezes them shut as spiders crawl over him, creepy crawly, eat your eyes out.
Frank Iero lies down on the floor and waits to die.
Ali wakes suddenly, and the air is knocked out of her lungs.
The dream. Always the same.
She lies in bed, feeling a headache corrode her brain. She shuts her eyes, shuts them tight. She is sweating a cold sweat, it freezes her, and then she feels the warmth between her legs.
The sheets are drenched in menstrual blood.
Gerard opens his eyes. He is free from pain and they are gone, he can't tell if it was dream or reality.
He looks to the right and he sees him: Frank is awake, and he's staring at the sky over them.
A sigh of relief and pain and guilt, he's OK.
Frank feels his skin crawl and scream and he desperately drags himself out of the dream.
He lies awake until dawn, crying softly to keep himself awake.
He doesn't want to fall asleep again.
He doesn't want to have to die all over.
Ray stands up as soon as he is awake. He is confused and ashamed of himself for the dream he just had, and he needs to stand up and walk and clear his mind.
It always works, It must work.
Sex with a fucking corpse.