Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The hardest ones to love, are the ones that need it most...3 Reviews
The sleeve of his hoodie slides up slightly revealing small, almost healed purple splodges that make my stomach tighten.
“Please…please…tell me that I didn’t do it…” Gerard half sobs, his skin an unhealthy chalky white, his eyes bloodshot and sunken. He repeats the words again, beginning to cry, silently, tears spilling down his ghostly pale cheeks, staining his face. He looked broken, just like I was. A part of me wanted to slam the door in his face, but I couldn’t, I wasn’t an evil person. Somehow, shockingly, despite everything I still wanted to help him. I knew that he dint deserve it, but seeing my best friend standing there, sobbing, broken tears and pleading with me to tell me that he hadn’t done it, my heart broke into even more, jagged pieces.
“Frankie…I am so, so unbelievably sorry…you hate me, I know you do, why wouldn’t you?” I should hate him, I should, any normal person with a brain would have called the fucking cops by now, but I just couldn’t do that to him, even though he had hurt me in a most terrible way, I couldn’t do that. That didn’t mean that I was happy that he was here, I wasn’t. It didn’t mean that I was comfortable with him there either, I was scared, I couldn’t rust him anymore, not after what he had done to me, how could I? I knew I never would again, and that hurt almost as much as what he had done to me. I could no longer trust the person I had called m best friend, the person who I had secretly loved for years.
“Frankie…” Gerard just stands there, at the front door, his hazel eyes fixed firmly on the ground, his shoulders move up and down as he cries, but there is no sound anymore. Every so often I see his swollen lips move and I think he is going to say something else, but he doesn’t.
“Gerard?” he freezes at the sound of his name, his eyes lock with mine for a split second and he clenches his fists, his entire body shaking in anger.
“How could I?!” he screams at the grey, cloudy sky, scratching at his face with his broken nails. “I know you hate me, I fucking hate me as well! I`m the fucking devil, I did this to you, I hurt the person I loved with all my heart and now I can never forgive myself, and you will never forgive me.” he yells angrily, but as he nears the end of the sentence, his voice breaks as more salty tears form in his eyes, making their way down his angry face, coming to rest on his badly bitten, chapped lips. I can smell the horrid scent of alcohol on his breath; it was so strong that I could almost taste it.
“I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I know that I don’t.” he whispers, wiping the damned tears away, blinking back the new ones forming in his eyes. He had always hated crying, he said it was weak. Where he had gotten that from I had no idea, I suppose it was what he had been told as a child, I honestly didn’t know how he could believe that though.
I look up at him, confused, and worried. He was staring up at the dismal sky, glaring at it as though it was the cause of all of his problems. He had a lot of problems, I just didn’t realise how many, he had never confided in me with them. I wished he had.
Looking at him, remembering the events of last night, I should hate him, I know I should, but I just couldn’t, true, he had hurt me, he had broken me, but I was unable to forget. I simply could not rid my mind of all of the happy times we had shared together, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to. If I did I would hate him, and seeing him now, sobbing and looking like a defeated animal, I didn’t see how I could do that.
“Frankie, get the cops, I deserve to be punished for what I have done, call them,” he pauses, “or I will.”
“Gerard,” I sigh deeply and shake my head. I didn’t want him to go to prison, I knew he deserved it, and I hated myself for still giving a damn about the man that had hurt me in such a way, but I could not help it.
Silence falls, neither of us knowing what to do or say. I still hurt all over, but since Gerard had shown up I had been able to forget about some of it, trying to pretend it had never happened. It had, of course. He stands there, looking the most miserable I have ever seen him, his eyes were full of self hate, his arms shaking with anger and his hair matted and greasy.
Sighing deeply he runs a clawed, shaking hand through his matted ebony hair. The sleeve of his hoodie slides up slightly revealing small, almost healed purple splodges that make my stomach tighten.
“Gee, what are they?” I ask, and he shakes his head, worriedly.
“No-nothing, don’t say anything, there’s nothing there-honest-I”
“Who did that to you Gerard?” I reach and grab hold of his arm, he tries to push me off but I ignore him, all of my pain forgotten as the sickening bruises and cuts come into sight.
“Who did that to you Gerard?” I repeat, in a stern tone, demanding that he tell me the truth, not knowing where my confidence had came from.
“No one, please, believe me, Frankie,” he looks at me pleadingly, with his eyes, but I don`t buy it for a second.