Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Catholic Hell
Consequences
0 ReviewsThe consequences of the false claims.
By the end of the night, Ray had been screamed at for over two hours, and he was at his wit's end. He had always tried to keep his parents happy, but apparently the Fro would have a better chance finding a cure for AIDS, HIV, cancer, world hunger, and all those prion diseases out there before he found a way to keep his parents happy. Every time that he had even tried to open his mouth to defend himself and say that it wasn't his fault, that he hadn't cheated, they'd roared at him to "Shut the fuck up!"
They even threatened to call the police.
That had brought Ray to the point he was at now.
It was 11 at night, and his parents had already gone to sleep, cutting off the internet before they had. Ray was sitting in his room, with his trusty razor-blade, and a bottle of overproof rum.
He didn't know what he was going to do next, but it wasn't good. He had already drank most of the rum, and he was drunk off his fucking ass as it was. He didn't bother getting up off the floor, because he knew that his legs wouldn't support him worth a shit. No, it was better to stay sitting down. After all, he was planning to cut so deep that he'd bleed out. And when he died, he would fall over anyways. He didn't care to live to the morning.
After all, what was there to live for? Getting bullied? Having parents who didn't give a fuck? Being a loner? Having people who didn't listen to him for a single second of his godforsaken life? No, none of this was worth living for, to Ray. He had reached his fucking breaking point, and he was sick and tired of life. He had tried reaching out before, but apparently, it wasn't good enough.
Now, he was going to go drastic.
They even threatened to call the police.
That had brought Ray to the point he was at now.
It was 11 at night, and his parents had already gone to sleep, cutting off the internet before they had. Ray was sitting in his room, with his trusty razor-blade, and a bottle of overproof rum.
He didn't know what he was going to do next, but it wasn't good. He had already drank most of the rum, and he was drunk off his fucking ass as it was. He didn't bother getting up off the floor, because he knew that his legs wouldn't support him worth a shit. No, it was better to stay sitting down. After all, he was planning to cut so deep that he'd bleed out. And when he died, he would fall over anyways. He didn't care to live to the morning.
After all, what was there to live for? Getting bullied? Having parents who didn't give a fuck? Being a loner? Having people who didn't listen to him for a single second of his godforsaken life? No, none of this was worth living for, to Ray. He had reached his fucking breaking point, and he was sick and tired of life. He had tried reaching out before, but apparently, it wasn't good enough.
Now, he was going to go drastic.
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