I couldn't think of any worse fate than to be thrown out into the snow, barefoot and barely clothed, in the middle of nowhere.
Well, I was on the tourbus, dressed exactly like this, about to go to sleep. I had shuffled into the kitchen, getting a glass of water. The rest of the band was there. "Sit down." Mikey told me.
I took a seat, looking around uncomfortably. Everyone was sitting somberly, looking at my. Ray was staring at me with this apologetic look in his eyes. "What's going on?" I asked.
" We don't want you around anymore." MIkey said.
The accusations began to pile up.
"You're a terrible brother."
"Your drug and alcohol use is getting out of control
"Fuck that, its already out of control!"
"I don;t want you around my kids."
"You sicken me."
"You're a failure."
The bus stopped, and I as thrown off, not even allowed to grab my phone or wallet, or fot that matter, even allowed to put on a pair of shoes.
We'd been driving for a while, and were on a deserted road, far away from everything else. I had no idea how close we were to the nearest city, or eve nshack for the matter. It was snowing so hard, that I couldn't even see if there was anything much nearby. So I started walking back the way we came. I've been walking a good few hours now, and still nothing in sight. But I'm so tired now.
So against better judgement, I sit down in the snow. Within a few minutes, I'm fast asleep.
The next day, a truck driver passing by saw a body in a snow drift.
It was later found that when Gerard died, he was nearly 50 miles from the nearest town in the direction he was walking. He had already walked 10 miles. If he had gone the saem direction as the bus, he would've been alive. At the point he was thrown off the bus, he was a little under 2 miles from a small town.