Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > I'll never let you leave, never let you breathe.
They'll take your pride, make you ashamed, so for the love of god, don't play this game.
5 ReviewsGerard gets to find out some more about Frank and Frank's introduced to a gang in the prison.
So yes, if you didn't already know.. In prisons straight men fuck. Not abnormal, obviously. But if someone doesn't want to, then they'll result to a slightly more.. aggressive method.
A huge thank you to reinventlove152 for being my beta! :D
"So you don't know why you're in here?" Frank asks, looking up to me as we walk. His feet kick up dirt and dust from the ground with each step, blowing some of it into my face.
"No, not at all. I just know it was fucked up." I cough, squinting through the cloud of dust. "It works well for me though. The other guys wont come near me."
Nodding, Frank seems to be considering the bonuses of my situation, but then, his face falls into a frown. "I don't know what you did either, Gerard."
I shrug, sitting down on a breaking, grotty bench next to the walls of my 'home'. The wide stretch of land could look pleasant, if it wasn't the outside of a prison. Electric barbed wire runs around the base of our "playground", as the officers like to call it anyway, and everyone in this prison avoids it. We know what'll happen. Last time someone tried to escape, he went to climb up the fencing. Of course, he didn't let go, so the electricity burned his hands. It wasn't pretty, and needless to say, he never tried that again. He had to constantly drink water due to the shock of it.
"What about you?" I ask, "Why are you in here?"
Sweeping a tattooed hand through his hair, he begins. "Robbery." He smirks, "My gang and I went to rob a bank. It was going fucking brilliant until the assholes ditched. Fuckers. I was left alone with a bunch of hostages, and sure, I had guns, but one against thirty to fifty cops isn't gunna give you a chance. I got caught, obviously." Shaking his head, he growls. "Never gunna rob with those fuckers again."
"They sound.. well, shitty."
"They were!" He scoffs. "Fucking cowards." As he murmurs to himself, I groan, knowing that in precisely nineteen seconds, we have to shower.
"Frank," I say, interrupting him mid-blabber. "Shower time, let's go." Tugging him up with me, he looks confused, but shrugs it off. Just as we walk across to the metal door (safety precautions. But we're not going to try escaping, so there's no freaking point), the bell clangs, making me smirk.
Nineteen seconds exactly.
"You're like Jesus." Frank scoffs, following me down the hallway to the shower rooms. It's a small prison, not New Jersey's biggest, so there's only ever about ten people in one room. "Minus the beard.. and magical powers."
"If I had magical powers, I'd reinstate my memory." I say, sighing.
"Really? I'd get revenge on my gang." We start to strip into our underwear, as the officer has just told us to do. It's always been my most hated part. Frank's taking his time, obviously new to the whole thing, but as the officer grabs him for not doing what he's told, Frank growls.. almost in disgust.
"Alright, alright!" Frank snaps, glaring as he tugs his arm away from the officer.
"Keep at it, sonny. Fuckers like you are better off dead." The officer glares at me, so I groan, turning away from him.
"Fuck off." I growl, watching as Frank shoots daggers to the officer.
"What.. What did you just say?" As his voice changes, one to a tone of surprise, I grin. It's Bill.
"Oh, hey Bill," I say. "Didn't recognize you."
Bill gapes at me, scoffing.
"So much for being good." He mumbles, still shooting me a look of pure hatred.
Feigning hurt, I say, "but Bill! I'm better than all the other good-for-nothings in this prison, right?!"
"Don't count on it." He growls, shoving Frank and I into the shower room. Rolling our eyes, Frank and I walk over to a shower and turn it on. I watch, with very mild interest, as the water drips off of my body to the once white, grubby tiles. Always the same routine. Get up, groan, eat breakfast, go outside, shower, do some sort of work, eat lunch, go outside, eat dinner, back to the cells. It's always seems to bore me; the repetitiveness of these day and nights, and how slow they seem to pass for me. There's been times where Marty will come and talk to me, if it's when she's cleaning the table I'm sitting on, or delivering food to my cell.. That only happens if the officers insist I've been fucking with them, or some shit. It's all just excuses. They don't want to see me, so they do their best not too. My life is falling to shambles in front of me, and I can't do anything to prevent it.
"Oh, look fellas. Young, fresh meat." The slightly happy, slightly excited, slightly mocking tone could not be mistaken anywhere. It's Travis. I roll my eyes, but before I can even talk to him, they tug Frank back.
"Oh fuck off, scums." Frank growls, ripping himself from their grasp. "Crawl back into your mum's vagina!" He spits, shaking his head, "I'm sure she'll welcome you back with open arms." Upon further inspection of the group, Frank laughs. "Or kill you for even suggesting it."
Travis just chuckles, looking Frank up and down. "Feisty.."
"That's what your sister said." He smirks, "she makes a great fuck, by the way. But could you tell her to lower the price? The bitch fucked me over."
Although Travis is now scowling viciously at Frank, he tries to seem unperturbed. "You don't get it." Travis says, the group enclosing on Frank. "We always get what we want."
"Fuck off, Travis." I say, stepping forward and tugging Frank away.
"I can deal with it!" Frank snaps, glaring at me.
I scoff. "They all fucking say that. Don't they, Paul?" I look to the newest member of the group. He glares at me, the huge scar that ruins his skin bends at the simple motion. A look of shame and humiliation spreads across his features, but he continues to stare at me. "See? Now fuck off, all of you, rot in the deepest pits of hell. Stupid bastards."
Travis, now shaking from fear, grins. "And if we don't?"
I roll my eyes. "Travis? You're lip is trembling, your face is bright red and your stepping back as we speak. Fuck off already." Frank's laughing, pointing at the humiliated faces, before I pull him back to our showers, continuing to try get as clean as possible.
>X<
"So, earlier.. Travis and his group do that a lot?" Frank asks, cringing at the pile of sloppy mush that's spread on his plate. I do the same with mine, running the blunt ends of my fork through the brown slosh.
"Yeah. I've stepped up for all of them, one word out of my mouth and Travis is like putty in my hands. But they all refused. It's always the same outcome. The victims get a few blows to Travis' face, but they can never hold five people off."
"I see.." Frank says, staring at the deathly food. "Well then, I suppose I should thank you."
"Not necessary," I scoff, "you'll actually keep me company. We're even." Shoveling my food into my mouth, I gag, hold my nose, and swallow down the grunge. Seeing the look of pure disgust on my face, Frank pushes his tray away from himself, cringing.
"Gerard!" Marty smiles, running over to our table to wipe it. The cloth that's dangling from her hand sways as she approaches us, but stops when she arrives.
"Hey Marty, this is Frank."
"Nice to meet you." He says, holding his hand out with a huge smile. Marty accepts it, grinning.
"You too, sugar!" I mentally facepalm. Marty always used to call me that until I asked her to stop. "Look, I kinda saw you almost.. threw your food back up.. So, do you remember I said I had two more sandwiches earlier?"
My eyes light up as my stomach stops swirling from nausea, and I heave a sigh of relief. "You truly are a saint, Marty."
Flashing her pearly whites at us, she pulls two cling-filmed sandwiches out from the front pocket of her apron and hands them to us.
"You barely know me.. Why are you giving me one?" Frank asks, staring at the appetizing sandwich in front of him.
"Oh, sugar!" Marty laughs. "Any friend of Gerard's is a friend of mine. Besides, you took a chance on him and.." She swipes her cloth across the metal surface of our table. "Gerard's got a good judge of character."
Grinning, Frank mumbles a thank you and devours his ham and cheese sandwich with tomato and lettuce.
"It's not a problem," Marty whispers, "I've got to go, I'll talk to you both soon." Scurrying off, Marty waves goodbye, smiling slightly.
"She's seriously my angel!" I mumble, indulging in my sandwich. Frank simply nods, too busy eating to reply.
As my thought lingers, I can't help but think of the forest I had imagined earlier. It scares me now; how such negative emotions flooded over me at once, just because I looked downwards. I.. what did I do? What have I done?
I thought I was okay, being known as the worst criminal here, but I'm not. My family hate me, my old friends hate me, nearly everyone I know hates me. Come to think of it, I hate myself. I obviously did something wrong. Something so wrong, people tremble at the mere sound of my voice.
I suppose it's just my fair share of Karma.
Thanks for reading!
A huge thank you to reinventlove152 for being my beta! :D
"So you don't know why you're in here?" Frank asks, looking up to me as we walk. His feet kick up dirt and dust from the ground with each step, blowing some of it into my face.
"No, not at all. I just know it was fucked up." I cough, squinting through the cloud of dust. "It works well for me though. The other guys wont come near me."
Nodding, Frank seems to be considering the bonuses of my situation, but then, his face falls into a frown. "I don't know what you did either, Gerard."
I shrug, sitting down on a breaking, grotty bench next to the walls of my 'home'. The wide stretch of land could look pleasant, if it wasn't the outside of a prison. Electric barbed wire runs around the base of our "playground", as the officers like to call it anyway, and everyone in this prison avoids it. We know what'll happen. Last time someone tried to escape, he went to climb up the fencing. Of course, he didn't let go, so the electricity burned his hands. It wasn't pretty, and needless to say, he never tried that again. He had to constantly drink water due to the shock of it.
"What about you?" I ask, "Why are you in here?"
Sweeping a tattooed hand through his hair, he begins. "Robbery." He smirks, "My gang and I went to rob a bank. It was going fucking brilliant until the assholes ditched. Fuckers. I was left alone with a bunch of hostages, and sure, I had guns, but one against thirty to fifty cops isn't gunna give you a chance. I got caught, obviously." Shaking his head, he growls. "Never gunna rob with those fuckers again."
"They sound.. well, shitty."
"They were!" He scoffs. "Fucking cowards." As he murmurs to himself, I groan, knowing that in precisely nineteen seconds, we have to shower.
"Frank," I say, interrupting him mid-blabber. "Shower time, let's go." Tugging him up with me, he looks confused, but shrugs it off. Just as we walk across to the metal door (safety precautions. But we're not going to try escaping, so there's no freaking point), the bell clangs, making me smirk.
Nineteen seconds exactly.
"You're like Jesus." Frank scoffs, following me down the hallway to the shower rooms. It's a small prison, not New Jersey's biggest, so there's only ever about ten people in one room. "Minus the beard.. and magical powers."
"If I had magical powers, I'd reinstate my memory." I say, sighing.
"Really? I'd get revenge on my gang." We start to strip into our underwear, as the officer has just told us to do. It's always been my most hated part. Frank's taking his time, obviously new to the whole thing, but as the officer grabs him for not doing what he's told, Frank growls.. almost in disgust.
"Alright, alright!" Frank snaps, glaring as he tugs his arm away from the officer.
"Keep at it, sonny. Fuckers like you are better off dead." The officer glares at me, so I groan, turning away from him.
"Fuck off." I growl, watching as Frank shoots daggers to the officer.
"What.. What did you just say?" As his voice changes, one to a tone of surprise, I grin. It's Bill.
"Oh, hey Bill," I say. "Didn't recognize you."
Bill gapes at me, scoffing.
"So much for being good." He mumbles, still shooting me a look of pure hatred.
Feigning hurt, I say, "but Bill! I'm better than all the other good-for-nothings in this prison, right?!"
"Don't count on it." He growls, shoving Frank and I into the shower room. Rolling our eyes, Frank and I walk over to a shower and turn it on. I watch, with very mild interest, as the water drips off of my body to the once white, grubby tiles. Always the same routine. Get up, groan, eat breakfast, go outside, shower, do some sort of work, eat lunch, go outside, eat dinner, back to the cells. It's always seems to bore me; the repetitiveness of these day and nights, and how slow they seem to pass for me. There's been times where Marty will come and talk to me, if it's when she's cleaning the table I'm sitting on, or delivering food to my cell.. That only happens if the officers insist I've been fucking with them, or some shit. It's all just excuses. They don't want to see me, so they do their best not too. My life is falling to shambles in front of me, and I can't do anything to prevent it.
"Oh, look fellas. Young, fresh meat." The slightly happy, slightly excited, slightly mocking tone could not be mistaken anywhere. It's Travis. I roll my eyes, but before I can even talk to him, they tug Frank back.
"Oh fuck off, scums." Frank growls, ripping himself from their grasp. "Crawl back into your mum's vagina!" He spits, shaking his head, "I'm sure she'll welcome you back with open arms." Upon further inspection of the group, Frank laughs. "Or kill you for even suggesting it."
Travis just chuckles, looking Frank up and down. "Feisty.."
"That's what your sister said." He smirks, "she makes a great fuck, by the way. But could you tell her to lower the price? The bitch fucked me over."
Although Travis is now scowling viciously at Frank, he tries to seem unperturbed. "You don't get it." Travis says, the group enclosing on Frank. "We always get what we want."
"Fuck off, Travis." I say, stepping forward and tugging Frank away.
"I can deal with it!" Frank snaps, glaring at me.
I scoff. "They all fucking say that. Don't they, Paul?" I look to the newest member of the group. He glares at me, the huge scar that ruins his skin bends at the simple motion. A look of shame and humiliation spreads across his features, but he continues to stare at me. "See? Now fuck off, all of you, rot in the deepest pits of hell. Stupid bastards."
Travis, now shaking from fear, grins. "And if we don't?"
I roll my eyes. "Travis? You're lip is trembling, your face is bright red and your stepping back as we speak. Fuck off already." Frank's laughing, pointing at the humiliated faces, before I pull him back to our showers, continuing to try get as clean as possible.
>X<
"So, earlier.. Travis and his group do that a lot?" Frank asks, cringing at the pile of sloppy mush that's spread on his plate. I do the same with mine, running the blunt ends of my fork through the brown slosh.
"Yeah. I've stepped up for all of them, one word out of my mouth and Travis is like putty in my hands. But they all refused. It's always the same outcome. The victims get a few blows to Travis' face, but they can never hold five people off."
"I see.." Frank says, staring at the deathly food. "Well then, I suppose I should thank you."
"Not necessary," I scoff, "you'll actually keep me company. We're even." Shoveling my food into my mouth, I gag, hold my nose, and swallow down the grunge. Seeing the look of pure disgust on my face, Frank pushes his tray away from himself, cringing.
"Gerard!" Marty smiles, running over to our table to wipe it. The cloth that's dangling from her hand sways as she approaches us, but stops when she arrives.
"Hey Marty, this is Frank."
"Nice to meet you." He says, holding his hand out with a huge smile. Marty accepts it, grinning.
"You too, sugar!" I mentally facepalm. Marty always used to call me that until I asked her to stop. "Look, I kinda saw you almost.. threw your food back up.. So, do you remember I said I had two more sandwiches earlier?"
My eyes light up as my stomach stops swirling from nausea, and I heave a sigh of relief. "You truly are a saint, Marty."
Flashing her pearly whites at us, she pulls two cling-filmed sandwiches out from the front pocket of her apron and hands them to us.
"You barely know me.. Why are you giving me one?" Frank asks, staring at the appetizing sandwich in front of him.
"Oh, sugar!" Marty laughs. "Any friend of Gerard's is a friend of mine. Besides, you took a chance on him and.." She swipes her cloth across the metal surface of our table. "Gerard's got a good judge of character."
Grinning, Frank mumbles a thank you and devours his ham and cheese sandwich with tomato and lettuce.
"It's not a problem," Marty whispers, "I've got to go, I'll talk to you both soon." Scurrying off, Marty waves goodbye, smiling slightly.
"She's seriously my angel!" I mumble, indulging in my sandwich. Frank simply nods, too busy eating to reply.
As my thought lingers, I can't help but think of the forest I had imagined earlier. It scares me now; how such negative emotions flooded over me at once, just because I looked downwards. I.. what did I do? What have I done?
I thought I was okay, being known as the worst criminal here, but I'm not. My family hate me, my old friends hate me, nearly everyone I know hates me. Come to think of it, I hate myself. I obviously did something wrong. Something so wrong, people tremble at the mere sound of my voice.
I suppose it's just my fair share of Karma.
Thanks for reading!
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