Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Never Coming Home
Chapter Three: Wish You Were Here
Posted 30.11.2012, 12:25am
Solace was something that Gerard could never quite find. As the days ambled on, he sometimes believed that he was growing ever nearer to it, and sometimes he could see it, feel it, and taste it on his tongue. But then when he reached out his arm to take hold of it, comfort abandoned him. Time after time it slipped from his grasp. Time after time he found himself curled in a ball on the ground, fumbling like a blind man for something that could not and would not exist for him. The ravages of his nights began to manifest themselves in his face. Shadows hung beneath his eyes, and his hair was in a constant state of disarray. He felt in himself a disconnectedness that he could not quite understand. It was almost as though he was not wholly there, as though a vital piece of him had been misplaced somewhere, and it had fallen into some deep crevasse from which it could not be recovered.
The nightmares had begun too. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t had them before. Whilst he had stayed in the clinic his head had been full of them. His mind had been so completely messed up that even during the day he would sometimes drift off into sleep and wake with his heart thumping loudly in his chest and adrenaline coursing through his veins. These dreams though, they were of a different sort altogether. In rehab he had been haunted by grotesque creatures and dark corners. They had tugged at him, dragging his childish fears into the light of day. Yet now the dreams were not so much tugging, but tearing his insides apart. They seemed to be wrenching him open in an attempt to escape. The monsters had disappeared. But they had been replaced with something of an entirely different kind: loud bangs, shouting, red rivers that cascaded for miles. And on these rivers floated boats. Millions of them. And each boat held a body. Dead and cold and lifeless. The worst part was not the bodies themselves, but the expressions on the faces of the men. Whenever Gerard had seen dead people they had looked peaceful, almost inhuman. They were sleeping. An eternal sleep, but a sleep nonetheless. The men though, their faces were twisted in expressions of complete and infinite sadness. There was nothing at all peaceful about it.
He would wake in a cold sweat. His throat would feel tight and scratchy. Salty tears mingled with perspiration on his cheeks. Convulsions would wrack his body as he sobbed. He would choke on the lump in his throat. And then, each night, he would stagger from his bedroom down the hallway. He would press his ear to the door of Christa and Ray’s room to make sure that he hadn’t disturbed them, and then he would do the same at the children’s door. No one ever woke. Then he would make his way to the bathroom and splash cool water over his face and lean against the wall, a sigh escaping his lips.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It was after about a month and a half of these night terrors that Gerard decided that it was time to do something. He made his way downstairs one Sunday morning and sat down at the kitchen counter. Ray pushed a mug full of steaming coffee at him.
‘Hey,’ he yawned. Gerard breathed in the smell of the coffee and held his breath, weighing up his decision for the final time. He didn’t even respond to Ray’s greeting, just plunged right into it before he had the chance to stop himself.
‘I need Mikey.’
Ray looked up at that.
‘I need you to give me the number of whatever base he’s located in right now. I’m going to call him. I need him to come back now. There are millions of other soldiers to take his place. I just need my brother.’
His friend sat there for a moment, processing what had been said. Then he raised his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes slowly. Running his fingers through his hair he looked up at Gerard.
‘We can’t just bring him back like that.’
‘Why not? There are others to take his place.’
‘No.’
It was in a single syllable that Gerard’s world splintered and shattered. He had believed that Mikey would save him. His little brother would become his protector and keeper. He would have fought against the demons in Gee’s mind and brought him back to himself, made him whole again. But in that simple word, Gerard understood. It wasn’t that Mikey couldn’t be replaced. It was that he already had been.
He looked up at Ray. His forehead lay pressed against the table and his shoulders heaved and shuddered as he cried. Gerard was too shocked to register that tears were pooling on his own cheeks.
‘How?’
‘We don’t know,’ replied Ray. ‘We don’t know.’
Posted 30.11.2012, 12:25am
Solace was something that Gerard could never quite find. As the days ambled on, he sometimes believed that he was growing ever nearer to it, and sometimes he could see it, feel it, and taste it on his tongue. But then when he reached out his arm to take hold of it, comfort abandoned him. Time after time it slipped from his grasp. Time after time he found himself curled in a ball on the ground, fumbling like a blind man for something that could not and would not exist for him. The ravages of his nights began to manifest themselves in his face. Shadows hung beneath his eyes, and his hair was in a constant state of disarray. He felt in himself a disconnectedness that he could not quite understand. It was almost as though he was not wholly there, as though a vital piece of him had been misplaced somewhere, and it had fallen into some deep crevasse from which it could not be recovered.
The nightmares had begun too. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t had them before. Whilst he had stayed in the clinic his head had been full of them. His mind had been so completely messed up that even during the day he would sometimes drift off into sleep and wake with his heart thumping loudly in his chest and adrenaline coursing through his veins. These dreams though, they were of a different sort altogether. In rehab he had been haunted by grotesque creatures and dark corners. They had tugged at him, dragging his childish fears into the light of day. Yet now the dreams were not so much tugging, but tearing his insides apart. They seemed to be wrenching him open in an attempt to escape. The monsters had disappeared. But they had been replaced with something of an entirely different kind: loud bangs, shouting, red rivers that cascaded for miles. And on these rivers floated boats. Millions of them. And each boat held a body. Dead and cold and lifeless. The worst part was not the bodies themselves, but the expressions on the faces of the men. Whenever Gerard had seen dead people they had looked peaceful, almost inhuman. They were sleeping. An eternal sleep, but a sleep nonetheless. The men though, their faces were twisted in expressions of complete and infinite sadness. There was nothing at all peaceful about it.
He would wake in a cold sweat. His throat would feel tight and scratchy. Salty tears mingled with perspiration on his cheeks. Convulsions would wrack his body as he sobbed. He would choke on the lump in his throat. And then, each night, he would stagger from his bedroom down the hallway. He would press his ear to the door of Christa and Ray’s room to make sure that he hadn’t disturbed them, and then he would do the same at the children’s door. No one ever woke. Then he would make his way to the bathroom and splash cool water over his face and lean against the wall, a sigh escaping his lips.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It was after about a month and a half of these night terrors that Gerard decided that it was time to do something. He made his way downstairs one Sunday morning and sat down at the kitchen counter. Ray pushed a mug full of steaming coffee at him.
‘Hey,’ he yawned. Gerard breathed in the smell of the coffee and held his breath, weighing up his decision for the final time. He didn’t even respond to Ray’s greeting, just plunged right into it before he had the chance to stop himself.
‘I need Mikey.’
Ray looked up at that.
‘I need you to give me the number of whatever base he’s located in right now. I’m going to call him. I need him to come back now. There are millions of other soldiers to take his place. I just need my brother.’
His friend sat there for a moment, processing what had been said. Then he raised his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes slowly. Running his fingers through his hair he looked up at Gerard.
‘We can’t just bring him back like that.’
‘Why not? There are others to take his place.’
‘No.’
It was in a single syllable that Gerard’s world splintered and shattered. He had believed that Mikey would save him. His little brother would become his protector and keeper. He would have fought against the demons in Gee’s mind and brought him back to himself, made him whole again. But in that simple word, Gerard understood. It wasn’t that Mikey couldn’t be replaced. It was that he already had been.
He looked up at Ray. His forehead lay pressed against the table and his shoulders heaved and shuddered as he cried. Gerard was too shocked to register that tears were pooling on his own cheeks.
‘How?’
‘We don’t know,’ replied Ray. ‘We don’t know.’
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