His mind searched around for any potential distractions, but it was nearly impossible when all his other senses had been disabled. Suggested by abbi229.
In order to allow physical recovery from the last episode (which some would deem particularly harsh), the next visit by the blackbirds did not involve much physical contact at all. In fact the only physical contact that occurred was when they initially came in.
Gerard was sprawled out messily on the bed yet again, although he really did not know if it he was that tired from the beatings, or if he had simply lost mobility in his arms and legs. Nonetheless, he left it up to the blackbirds to gather him as usual, and place him in a position that suited whatever demeaning task they were about to accomplish.
To his surprise however, he was not placed in his usual sitting or standing positions. They simply flipped him over so that he laid on his back, and they then spread apart his arms and legs, so that he made a perfect X shape on the bed.
Their first step was to place a dark brown rag over Gerard's eyes, and they tied it around his head as to make it a blindfold.
As the darkness engulfed him, Gerard began to hyperventilate slightly.
Once someone who embraced the darkness and the night, he now feared it with a passion. Every moment in darkness had the feeling of some small confused animal that had found themselves trapped in a cardboard box; he could not know what was going to happen to him, only that he was in the hands of those who intended to harm.
Oh, what he would give for just a little sliver of light on his dungeon's cold, dusty floor.
Of course, his desires and concerns met deaf ears in this room of nightmares. The blackbirds carried on with their task, binding each of his wrists to something he could not see. It felt wooden, like a post. They united them with what Gerard thought might be duct tape, but again he could not be sure.
While one worked on his right wrist, Gerard could feel a second one move on to his ankles. He felt the same thing happen to them, until each joint was securely joined with whatever wood-like thing he was being held against.
Yet they did not stop there, and a moment later Gerard felt adhesive brought down upon his unsuspecting lips. They had duct taped his mouth shut, and the tape reached up to his cheekbones. They applied extra tape afterwards to be sure, and although Gerard could never see it, they had placed the tape in order to make it look like some crooked, lopsided smile.
At this final stage in the set up, Gerard could not see, speak, or move. It reminded him of a phrase. What was it again? He tried to recall.
See no evil.
Hear no evil.
Speak no evil.
As mentioned before, the physical contact on this day was minimal, and it did indeed end there. Gerard heard them move around for a bit longer, and could make out the sounds of something being placed on a table followed by what sounded like the pushing of buttons.
Gerard heard the sound of the door slamming shut, but only in the background of a new sound which filled his ears.
It took him a long while to realize just what he was hearing. It was a melody, a song he had heard long ago. A song from the days of old, back in that lifetime when things were normal. He could barely remember such a era, but he was certain that it was real at some point.
Or was he just dreaming it all?
Gerard chose to take the song he was hearing at that moment as proof of it's existence. As it neared it's chorus, at last Gerard could remember it's title.
Rock Lobster by the B52's.
The female backing vocals blared loudly in contrast with the high pitched male voice of the lead singer. Whatever was playing it had been set at the highest volume, as Gerard could likewise hear the vibration of the speakers as they struggled to screech out the familiar notes and sounds.
Anyone who has been acquainted with the tune knows that it is quite lengthy, and Gerard almost enjoyed the first listen. Yet there was a sense of nostalgia that it brought about, and it made Gerard quite depressed at the same time.
As he was unable to do anything else, he tilted his head back slightly. He tried to imagine himself back at home with his family and friends, perhaps hosting some sort of gathering, and playing old and corny albums that none of their fans would ever expect they would listen to. He remembered the cold breeze that was always present in their backyard, as Gerard played with Bandit on her swing set.
A jerking noise quickly pulled Gerard out of his reverie. At first, he had thought the track had simply stopped. In seconds time however, he realized that it was instead repeating the part it had stopped on continuously. The words ”here comes” played on an endless loop, which should have been followed by ”a stingray” or something to that effect.
Yet another thing he could only vaguely remember: the concept of a skipping CD. Just like the concepts of music in general, it was like something he remembered from a very vivid dream.
During the first thirty seconds, the nuisance was but minor. If anything, the noise was just loud.
After a minute of it had passed, Gerard found himself trying to mentally block out the noise. His mind searched around for any potential distractions, but it was nearly impossible when all his other senses had been disabled.
Thirty minutes. Gerard was struggling against the binds that held him. He fought to break them, desperate to reach whatever was making that horrendous sound and stop it at once. His movement got him little to nowhere however, and if anything left him feeling sore and helpless. His muscle had almost completely atrophied at this point, so in reality he barely moved an inch.
Two hours. His head pulsated along with the speakers of whatever was playing the horrific noise. He was surprised that he felt no substance, such as blood, pouring out of his ears. It felt as though sound had taken human form and was physically attacking him, yet he could neither fight it nor brace himself for it, for in reality, there was nothing and no one there. He could do nothing but take it, even when he felt like he could not take anymore. Then again, what else was new?
Six hours. Despite himself, Gerard had begun to scream against the tape that covered his mouth, not necessarily because he was crying out for help, but just to see if he could summon a noise other than the pestering pounding he had been forced to endure. Even through his best efforts, he produced nothing. He does not know if he had, by now, lost the ability to scream, or if perhaps he had just become so used to the sound, it was nothing but white noise. After a long while, he thinks he hears himself whimper a little. And that alone satisfies him, if only for a moment.
Twenty four hours. Gerard pondered a means to end it all. If he were to bite on his tongue so hard that it might puncture, could he bleed himself to death? Or would the blood at least be enough so that it might fill his mouth, and trapped behind the tape, allow him to drown in the very liquid of life? Gerard could remember yet another vivid dream, where people cared for what he had to say. He would tell the his fans, all those kids who admired him so: ”Nothing in life is worth hurting yourself over.” Whoever thought the exception to that rule would be having to hear Rock Lobster by The B52's on repeat? Gerard only wished Frank was there, so he could tell him so, knowing Frank would get a kick out of such sadistic irony.
Something even more sadistically ironic however, was that Frank Iero was much closer than Gerard could have ever imagined.
Next chapter: "The bride will lure you, cook you, eat you! Your dear innocence boiled to feed the evil in need of fear!"