I'm six years old. It's a hot August day, sunnier than any most people living in New Jersey can remember. I'm sat on the grass in our tiny garden, picking at the grass in front of me absent-mindedly and sipping a cup of juice. I look up suddenly when I hear the familiar sound of my mom's car pull into the drive. She smiles at me warmly as she opens the car door and Mikey clambers out before sprinting towards me.
"Gee! Gee!" He happily bounces into me, and everything is fine, until it happens... he knocks the cup I'm holding right out of my hands, causing the liquid to empty itself into my lap. Anger shoots through me for just a second and I see red... but the look on his face makes me stop; so carefree and joyful and delighted to see his big brother, it makes me giggle and all the anger diffuses out of me as I wrestle him to the ground playfully. Mom looks over to check on us as she unpacks the groceries, and smiles fondly to herself at the sight of her two boys, playing happily together in the summer sun. Mikey runs off to get a toy and I flop onto the grass, still grinning. I breathe. I can smell the summer. I breathe again. Happiness.
I smile inwardly as I take the time to think through my earliest memory, my happiest memory. A memory of me and my brother, together. But of course, on the outside my face is a perfect mask; a plain canvas of emotionless features and pale skin. I look at my therapist as she stares at me expectantly, as if waiting for me to speak.
"Gerard? I said could you tell me your earliest memory of you and Mikey... Gerard can you hear me?"
I snap out of my daydream and focus on looking her right in the eye. "I don't remember" I say monotonously.
She sighs slowly and I roll my eyes. Obviously I'm not going to tell her my deepest, most private of memories; I have slightly more important things on my mind right now anyway. You see I think about emotions a lot.
Sure, everyone gets angry, but most people still have some shred of control left over themselves, no matter how bad it gets. They don't almost black out as pure rage infects their bloodstream, taking over their mind and body. No one can truly know this feeling unless they've experienced it. Not many people know how disgusting it feels to be so angry that all you want to do in that moment, in that one hot second, is beat the living shit out of your own mother, your own father, and see their brains splattered over the kitchen floor.
All I can think of as I sit in the cold plastic chair is how much I do truly hate my own existence. I don't even deserve to be here, in therapy. I've never done anything to deserve to be helped, to deserve to be saved...
When I first came to see the school’s shrink, she asked me to think about myself, and how I would describe myself to another person. I remained quiet - thinking that if I didn't speak, she wouldn't be able to help me and would give up and let me go - but really I was screaming. Silently screaming.
Have you ever been so angry that you scared yourself? Have you ever broken down crying because you were so angry you just didn't know how to cope, didn't have a fucking clue what was happening to you? Have you ever been so blinded by pure rage that you hurt someone you love more than anything else in the world?
My name is Gerard Way and I killed my little brother.
I know this chapter is somewhat short but it's really just an introduction so the next chapters will most likely be longer than this one from now on. Oh and as always, R&R's are amazing and I will love you guys forever if you do :) x