When Gerard moves to a new neighborhood, he runs into someone he thinks he can finally trust. But will his terrible past come back to haunt him.
I'm gonna stop now. So, ya'know, hope you enjoy. R&R if you feel like it.. Have fun, my pretties. :)
I was staring out the car window at our new house as we pulled up. The house, to put it simply, looked like shit. It was about the size of a garden shed and was painted brown. Not even a nice brown, a shitty-ass brown. The garden looked like someone hadn’t looked after it in years. It was overgrown and dead. There was a giant willow tree to the left to add to the ‘dead’ persona this house had taken. It looked almost as depressed as I felt.
Sighing I looked at my younger brother Mikey to see his face scrunched up in disgust. This was my entire fault. It was my fault we had to move to this shithole. It was my fault we had to pack up and leave. It was my fault we had to leave all our family and friends (not that I had many friends anyway). It was my fault we had to start a new school. It was my fault our parents split up and got a divorce.
“Right, well I know it doesn’t look the best, but once we give it a good cleaning and a fresh lick of paint it’ll look better,” my mother said, interrupting my thoughts, “And anyways, it’s close to your new school… kinda.” She finished getting out of the car.
We followed my mother into the house and once inside I discovered it wasn’t any better than the outside. The walls were all painted the same faded, custard colour and the ground was covered in a dark green carpet that was covered in stains.
I could see the worried look on my mothers face as she spotted one of the stains.
“Once we move in all the furniture, it’ll look great,” she said, giving us her best fake smile.
Mikey raised an eyebrow and I just continued to frown. I guess I deserve this, but they surely don’t.
“I’ll go and start to get the boxes,” I mutter walking out.
The rest of the day was spent unloading boxes from the moving truck into the house as well as the furniture. It didn’t make it look any better.
Once we were finished I locked myself into my bedroom (which was a basement) and collapsed onto my bed. Getting into a pair of sweat-pants and a long sleeved top I turned my light off and collapsed again onto my bed hoping that sleep would find me.
It didn’t and at two a.m. I was lying on my back staring at the cracked ceiling, thinking about tomorrow.
It was safe to say I was dreading school. I knew how hard people were to new kids that started in the middle of the year, and with the way I dress and look, I’ll be getting a lot more than anyone else. At least Mikey will be able to socialise and talk to people and even stick up for himself every now and again. I socialise like a retarded duck. And that’s giving the duck a bad name.
Sighing I rolled over and shut my eyes hoping sleep would come, but my brain wouldn’t shut off.
What annoyed me the most about this stupid move is all the shit I was putting Mikey through. He didn’t deserve this. He wasn’t the fuck up who need to start his life over. He wasn’t the one who needed to try and run away from the memories that haunted me every time I shut my eyes. I argued with mum about not moving. I told her everything would be okay, that I’d be fine.
But she saw through my lies. She saw through the smiles I put on for people back home. She saw how bad I was doing. She knew the memories still plagued my brain. She saw how they affected me. She knew how hard it was for me just to get up everyday and go on and pretend I was okay.
I shut my eyes trying to think of anything but the memories. Anything to try and not go back, but it was too late. They were taking over now as usual. They were never letting me escape. My body began to shake, my lungs were leaving little to no air in, the room began to spin and I was flung into a past I’d rather forget…
“Awh, come on now Gerard, be a good boy…”
“Do you think I’ll listen to you, fag?”
“Look’s like we should teach this little fag a lesson, man…”
“Please, don’t… I’m sorry,” I feel tears drip down my cheek.
Someone punches my stomach and I fall to my knees. I get punched in the head.
“Please, no… Just leave me alone… Please,”
Another ht, this time to my jaw.
“What the fuck did I say, faggot? People like you deserve this, you sick cunt!” he spits at me.
“I wanna go after you!” someone else shouts.
He drew closer until we were face to face. I can smell the alcohol on his breath. His breathing was heavy. He grabbed me by the throat and flung me to the ground.
“Please no! I’m sorry, please!”
“SHUT UP!” I’m kicked in the stomach. “I’m gonna enjoy this, faggot, and I’m sure you will too!”
Someone laughs and wolf-whistles. I’m screaming now. I know what’s coming next. I’m begging. I don’t want this. The pain never stops. I’m screaming for what seems like forever…
“Gerard! Wake up!”
“I’m sorry, please no!”
“Gee, c’mon you need to wake up!”
“Make it stop! Oh God! No!”
“GERARD! WAKE THE FUCK UP!”
Suddenly I’m back in my bedroom. Someone is leaning over me, shaking me. I can’t breath. Everything is blurry. My stomach turns and I sprint to the bathroom. Once inside, I immediately throw up.
Leaning back against the tiles I try to catch my breath. My body is shaking and I realise I’m crying. Each sob shakes me more. Someone walks into the bathroom and I freeze.
“Shh Gee, everything’s okay.” It’s Mikey. How can he stand being near someone as disgusting as me? I feel him put his hand on my shoulder.
“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” I scream bolting to my bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me. I fall onto my bed and put a pillow over my head. I’m still shaking and I can’t stop the tears. I wonder if I could just kill myself by suffocation? Everyone else’s life would be a lot better if I was dead.
I look over at my clock. It reads 3:30 am. Fucking great. I was barely asleep an hour. I grab my iPod from my dresser and put my headphone in, hoping that the familiar guitar riffs will calm me down and let me sleep.
Four hours later I was still awake and it was morning. I managed to get no sleep at all. I could hear Mikey banging away upstairs getting ready for school. Ugh, school.
Glancing over towards my clock, I realised I had a half hour to get ready for school. Shit. Jumping out of bed I quickly grabbed a pair of black skinny jeans and a T-shirt. I shoved my worn-out Converse and grabbed my Misfits hoodie.
Once I was dressed, I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and tried to fix my hair. After a few minutes of constant brushing, I gave up. I decided to add some kohl eye-liner around my eyes. Looking in the mirror I came to the conclusion that I was still an ugly fuck. Woo.
Giving up on myself I headed down to the kitchen where Mikey was drinking coffee.
“Mornin’ Gee,” he greeted happily.
“Why the fuck didn’t you wake me?” I snapped as I poured myself some coffee. “We’ve only got five minutes before we have to leave!”
“I thought you’d be awake,” he shrugged.
Glaring at him I sat down. We both finished our coffee in silence until we had to leave for school.
“So,” Mikey started, finally breaking the silence as we walked, “did you get any sleep last night?”
“A little,” I muttered, which technically wasn’t a lie. I kept my head down low and refused to meet his gaze.
“I’ll be fine, Mikes. It’ll pass-“
“How long have you been sayin’ that? If you just tell me-”
“Mikey, we’ve been through this-”
“I’ll be able to help-”
“You can’t!” I shouted, “No one can!” I shoved my headphones into my ears and stormed off towards school.
It was true, no one could help me. These were my demons, my problem…
A.N. II: So whatcha think? :D Yeah, lemme know what way you want this to go, I'll have an open mind. And there'll be cookies, and kitty-cats. Mmm'kay?