Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > I'll never let you leave, never let you breathe.

Introducing the game.

by DisenchantedEnding 7 Reviews

"Gerard, Gerard Way."

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst - Characters: Gerard Way - Published: 2011/07/31 - Updated: 2011/08/02 - 1523 words

Okay, new story! I really hope you guys like it. Updates wont be as frequent, because I am determined to make this story as good as I can. So, I am apologizing for that in advance. :)

My body lies still as I absorbed the blackness that surrounds me. There's nothing, just emptiness, and my clueless thoughts to keep me company. It's like a solid blanket of darkness; it's sheltering me from the outside world which I dare not look at. It's scary out there, for me. I'm a dead man walking. As I lie still, contemplating what I shall chose to eat this morning, my mind falls blank. For once in my life, I'm not thinking. I'm just wallowing in the blackness around me, staring into it's hazy onyx center, sighing.

"Wake up, Way." I open my eyes and lean upwards, greeted by the frowning face of a police officer. "Breakfast." He smirks, "or mush, if you prefer."

I groan, plonking back onto the grotty bed. Hearing him growl impatiently, I shake my head, close my eyes, and dwell in the world of darkness that has, once again, overcome me. It's beautiful; darkness. There's something so spectacularly eerie about it, something so twisted, yet something so beautiful at the same time. It's so entrancing, and for some reason, I drift off into my mind, envisioning a wonderful forest.

It's crowded with tall trees that stand up high around me, their fragile, ebony trunks blending into the charcoal sky. Leaves of dark green cling to their branches and wave in the sky, then few of them tumble to the floor. Streaks of dark purple and red are just noticeable in the horizon. It's a magnificent sight; especially with the few bright stars that are scattered above me. There's a gentle breeze and as I hold the worn, long lantern, I feel an urge to smile. The flickering candlelight that radiates from lantern glows on the ground below me, so I look down, suddenly repulsed. However, there's nothing there.. why am I repulsed? A flush of panic washes over me, along with hatred and still, so much repulsion. What's wrong with me, what's happening? What've I done wrong?

"Way!" I shoot upwards, now slightly sweating, and stare at the police officer. His gruff voice matches his unshaven face and beady eyes. His cheeks sag very slightly; the big bags under his eyes indicate he's obviously been working night shift. "Get up!" He growls, sliding his truncheon against the bars of the cell. It makes a horrible banging noise, so I groan and lift myself up from the bed. "Good. Come on." As I tug on the appropriate clothing, the police man viciously pulls open the door and then slides his hand over his gun, grunting. "Don't try anything."

"Have I ever?" I say innocently, following him out and listening as another policeman slams my door closed.

"Apparently not.. But I've got my eyes on you Way." I almost scoff, but manage to suppress it. How could he watch anyone with those tiny, squinting eyes?

"What's your name today then?"

He chuckles and swipes a hand through his slightly greasy hair. "Bill," He coughs.. Obviously a smoker. "That's what you can call me."

I nod. "Hey, Bill."

Bill stops abruptly, turning around quickly and sharpening his beady eyes on me. "Listen, hot dog, we don't talk like friends. You're the worst scum in this prison, got me? I refuse to talk to you, I refuse to be civil with you! After what you did, I'm surprised you're not dead."

"They don't do that anymore." I say nonchalantly. I want to ask what I did, what I've done wrong. But I always get the same answer. "Way, you're a compulsive liar! Don't try manipulate a police officer and don't try fool a police officer. Don't try anything, you sick bastard."

"They would if I was in charge!" Bill shouts, marching onward, "now come on, in here." He pulls open a large metal door, the one I always enter at this time, and pushes me inside. Scurrying towards the food, I sigh. It looks like soup, gloop or potatoes.


"Whadda'ya want, love?" I stare at the meals and smile as I hear Marty's thick accent. She's American, as it shows in her voice, and she's got quite long blonde hair. She's about ten or twenty years older than me, but she's my only friend in this place.

"What's the.. err.. gloop?" I ask, timidly shooting my eyes up at her. She laughs, subconsciously holding her belly and tossing her head back.

"It's stew. But Gerard, love, I didn't mean from there! You're my favorite here," she smiles, "and this isn't allowed, but maybe I, somehow, find three different sandwiches in my bag?"


She grins knowingly and nods. "With mayo, lettuce, cucumber and onion. I've also cut off the crusts." Marty ducks down to retrieve my food as my mouth waters feverishly. I haven't had that sandwich in two weeks. It's my favorite! She always makes sure to bring me one nice meal, and my god, she's sure pulled through this week.

"Marty.." I smile, "you are my angel!" As I accept the sandwich, making sure no security are watching, I tell her to give me some of the potatoes, too.

"So," she says, dolloping the mushy spuds onto my plate, "apparently there's some fresh meat here today."

"Really? Name, age, gender?" As I stare down at my tray, I feel my taste buds tingle; eagerly awaiting the beautifully made sandwich, which I shall soon indulge in.

"Iero, 24, Male." I pour some of the slightly cloudy water into my plastic cup, grinning. Maybe he'll actually want to sit near me? Since Toro left I've had no one.. None of them want to approach me. They're scared. Apparently, as all the officers say, I am the worst they've got here. And that's not fun. To constantly be left alone and feared.. never socializing.. If I didn't have Marty, I'd probably be insane be now.

"Sounds interesting, he's three years younger than me." Marty nods, ushering me on.

"We'll talk later," she mutters, "sit down, eat the sandwich quickly."

Nodding, I utter a quiet thank you under my breath and scurry off to my table. Yes, I have a table. The one right at the back, left corner; all secluded and alone. I've grown used to being alone, but I suppose, most people in prison are alone. No one wants to see you because they hate you eternally, although, I have the occasional phone call with my brother. He hates me, though. It's obvious. I only ever have contact with him when there's some important family news.. Though I barely remember my family. I barely remember anything before prison, actually. There's a muffled cough from above me, so I look up, greeted by a very slim, very clean male. He's got a long, black, mohican-style fringe that falls in front of his pale face, covering one of his rustic hazel eyes.

"Sorry," he mumbles, "could I sit here?" He bites his bottom lip as I raise my eyebrows.

"Course," I grumble, "not many people like too. Company's welcome." I watch happily as he swings his legs over the bench and plonks down, cringing at the gloop in front of him. "So," I start, taking a bite of my sandwich, "name?"

As he stares at the juicy lettuce that has fallen out of my sandwich, he absentmindedly turns over the beef (which is questionable) in his, apparent, stew. "Frank Iero." He announces quietly. I nod.

"I heard you were coming." I nod, indulging myself in another mouthful of my perfect sandwich.

Frank's mouth is visibly watering, his hazel eyes locked with the other half of my sandwich.

"Want it?" I ask, holding my plate out to him. His eyes flicker from me to the plate until he nods and plops it on his plate.

"Thanks.." He says, his voice slightly hoarse, "how'd you get this?"

"Marty. She's my friend.. brings me a nice meal every week." His eyes flash slightly, something that looks like guilt, "so, I don't mind if you have it." I add quickly, relieved as I watch the emotion disappear from his eyes.

"And.." He rips a piece of the sandwich apart using his teeth, closing his eyes as he munches on it. "You're name is..?"

"Oh, er.." I gulp; this is the part where people abandon me. Well, minus Toro. "Gerard Way." I mumble. I watch, baffled, as Frank simply nods.

"I hear you did some fucked up shit." He says, lifting his head to look at me. I nod.

"Apparently so. It's why people stay clear of me." I take a final bite of my sandwich, and then accompany it with a gulp of cloudy water, "but I don't remember what I did and I don't care. I'm here for life.. there's no going back."

So, do we like the start? Is it too.. boring? FEEDBACK, PLEASE!? XD
I'd also love if I could get this story to green, please? R&R? :D
Gratzi! xo
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