This morning, just like every other morning, I woke up knowing that I had nothing to look forwards to today and dreading the day ahead of me, so I’ve just kind of been lying here in my bed, staring up at my ceiling and pondering on the thought of weather I should go for a walk or not.
Slowly, I slid out of my bed and onto my feet, stumbling over to my cupboard. I grabbed my slightly oversized red hoodie, pulling it over myself and fixing up my hair before I put the hood up. With a light sigh, I then proceeded to pull on some black skinny jeans, hopping around as I did so and then I slipped on my shoes.
I slumped out of my room and down the stairs without telling my mother I was going out, it’s not like she would care anyway.
Once I was outside my house and in the cold morning air of New Jersey, I shoved my icy hands into the warm kangaroo pocket on the front of my hoodie. As the cold wind nipped at my face, the fabrics of my hoodie kept me warm. In that mass of cotton and warmth, I felt safe and secure for just a moment.
I looked up to the clouds as I began to walk along the concrete path that lead away from my home; they were as dark and swollen with rain as ever. They seemed to all be huddled together, mocking me. Waiting until I was caught walking halfway home later today maybe so that they could catch me when I have no defence and pour down their rain they hold onto me. I don’t know. But I do know that I hate seeing rain clouds like this. They symbolized everything that could go wrong during the day. They leave me wondering. Hoping. But, at the same time, they are comforting.
I frowned when I heard some giggling and looked in the direction of where it had come from; there were saw some kids, about twelve years old, giggling and running across the street.
I sighed, for what felt like the tenth time in the past five minutes.
Honestly, I miss being twelve. I didn’t care about anything back then. It was just me, Frank Iero; lost in my own world of monsters, music and crappy horror movies. All I had to worry about doing was worry about getting up in time for school. But I’m not twelve anymore, I’m almost fucking seventeen, and things are different now; I’m depressed and addicted to self destruction.
I’m still lost in my own world, but that world is cruel and cold. And I defiantly don’t’ have to worry about getting up in time for school because I don’t even fucking go to school anymore.
This made me almost completely resent the twelve years olds that I now watched turn a corner and disappear out of my sight. They had so much more freedom than me. They didn’t deserve it. I deserve it. I want freedom.
I now realized that I had been clenching my fists inside my pockets from some form of strange anger, so I pulled them out of my pocket and relaxed them by my side as I swiftly turned a corner. I took a deep breath to calm myself and push back the weird things I had just been feeling and then slowly exhaled. In attempt to distract myself from my thoughts, I sped up my walking pace aswell and, in no time, I found myself wondering towards the local park, where I normally cut through every morning to take a short-cut to the lake, but it doesn’t look like I’ll be cutting through there anytime today.
It was blocked off with caution tape everywhere. There was a ambulance and a few cop cars around. This wasn’t an unusual sight, this happened at least once every two months, but still, I was curious.
I crept over to a car and then stood up on my tippee toes, trying to see what exactly was going on.
There was a body of a small child lying on the tarmac below the double swing set. His big blue eyes that anyone could see from a mile away were open wide and staring up at the grey sky emotionlessly. Crimson blood stained his almost perfect pale skin and the dark grey overalls, along with the green and blue stripy shirt he was wearing was tattered and torn, also blood stained.
He was dead, obviously; and he didn’t look a day over five years old.
I took a step backwards, feeling sick in the stomach because of the sight I had set my eyes on.
I can’t believe someone would do that to such a young, beautiful child. I mean, seriously, what human being would have any thought that obtains of the sort of horror and depression that their actions like this may cause? Did they even consider that the child has a family or how young it was?
Human beings are disgusting. No wonder I hate myself so much.
Turning away from the disgust and depression of the crime scene, I breathed out heavily and continued walking along the cracked concrete path. But, as I walked, I felt my jeans vibrating, which freaked me out because jeans don’t fucking vibrate.
Frowning, I reached into my pocket where the source of the vibrating was and found my phone.
Huh. I must have put on a dirty pair of jeans..
I flipped my phone open and saw Gerard’s contact on the screen causing my stomach to do a little back flip; I’ve never been good with answering phones. At all. Not even when it’s my mother.
After a few seconds of staring at the screen, I decided that Gerard was the type of person that would listen to me rant about how disgusting everything is, so I clicked the answer button and held my phone against my face as I walked.
“Humans are disgusting.” I said straight out.
“Well hello to you too.” Gerard laughed on the other side of the line.
“Hi, sorry, I’m just so disgusted right now.” I sighed into the phone as I turned a corner, now on the path that leads to the lake. “You know a fucking five year old was murdered?”
“A five year old?” I could tell Gerard was frowning by the tone of his voice. “That’s sad..”
“I know right. Imagine how torn it’s parents are.”
“I don’t want to.” Gerard said quietly, almost in a whisper. “It’s too depressing.”
“Yeah..” I then decided to change the topic. “Why’d you call me, Gerard?”
His voice seemed more cheerful as he said, “Oh, I’m bored.”
“You called me because you’re bored?” I frowned, looking ahead at the lake.
“Yeah. You would not believe what Eliza is making me do with her.”
“Do I want to know?” I asked, sarcastically sounding disgusted to imply that I was making a dirty joke out of what he had said.
“Haha, very funny.” Gerard said in reply. “But, no, it’s nothing bad. But very fucking boring. Flowers. She’s making me help her chose flowers.”
Feeling free to smile because no one else was around to see it, I sat down and smiled, “Awh, poor you. Must be hell.”
“It is.” He groaned. “But she wondered off somewhere, so I decided to call you. You’re interesting.”
“Yeah. So talk to me. Keep me entertained.”