Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Asylum
Frank's P.O.V
His hazel eyes scanned through the medical chart, which pretty much summarised my life. His eyes stopped at one part, and I guessed by his raised eyebrows that he now understood. I sighed wishing I knew why. Why don't I speak? That's why I was here; they where trying to figure out what was wrong with me, so they could just shove more pills down my throat. It's totally messed up. I'm totally messed up. “Oh. Sorry...” He said sounding surprised, and handed me back the chart.
I re-attached it to the end of the bed, and turned to face him again, I was met by my new room-mate handing me his own medical chart. I began to scan though it, as he had to mine.
~Belleville Mental Institution~
Patient's Name: Gerard Arthur Way Patient's D.O.B: 4/9/1977
Medical History: Insomnia, Major Depression, Numerous Major Lacerations to the left arm and Minor Lacerations to the right.
My face dropped and I immediately felt my stomach churn in disbelief that someone could do that to themselves, I swallowed thickly.
Current Medical Treatment: Art Therapy, Counselling, Sedative Type A for: Insomnia, Alcoholism and Major Depression.
Notes: Two suicide attempts; most recent dated: 4/28/2003.
This would've been about four months ago. My eyes widened and I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of this and tried not to wince. I know it shouldn't but this makes me feel better, knowing that there's someone more messed up than me. Suddenly I feel guilty for my thoughts, that was wrong. What kind of person feels better about themselves because someone attempted suicide, twice.
Gerard's P.O.V
I could see the look of disgust in his face, he didn't need so say anything. I clenched my teeth regretting my actions. I subconsciously pulled down on my sleeves, so he couldn't even see my stubby fingers. He didn't take his eyes off the paper, I could tell he was re-reading it; trying to understand why anyone would do that to themselves. He silently placed it beside himself, his eyes still not leaving the paper. I sat there picking at the end of my sleeves. He was motionless staring at it with his big brown eyes.
I cleared my throat as if I were going to say something, but I couldn't think of anything to say. This got his attention and he looked up at me, I was expecting a sympathetic look, but instead he had a blank expression on his pale face. I tried to read it, to see what emotion he was hiding, but I couldn't see behind his dark empty eyes. Maybe that's how he felt, empty. He remained like this for a minute as we sat in silence with the odd shout or bump coming from next door. I couldn't take it any more so I stood up and walked out, I was heading for art therapy. This was one of the few places I felt safe, almost content at times.
I sped up my pace, not caring if my new room mate heard the squeak of sneakers, it's not like he could call after me. Everything here was pristine, I hated it. Eventually I reached the art rooms, as I moved to open the heavy door I found a slightly breathless Frank beside me. He moves silently too I thought to myself. I could tell that his little legs had been working hard to keep up. "Please leave me alone." I said in a blank tone. He looked up at me with his big eyes, like a lost child. I rolled my eyes as I held the door open and gestured for him to go through. "Go on then" I said giving up. He gave a weak smile and followed me. I went over to the cupboards to get paper and pencils. Leaving Frank by the door, he stood gazing up at the art plastered on the intensely white walls. Some, admittedly disturbing, but here was a place for colours, some of the very few in the building. I think this is why I felt better here. His eyes stopped at one piece; mine. He walked over to it and studied it closely. It'd been my first here, about 4 months ago, when I arrived. It was a figure curled up in a tight ball hugging itself, surrounded by darkness. I watched as Frank's tattooed fingers traced the outline of the figures face, he looked over at me as if to say "It's you, isn't it?" Unflinching I stared at him blankly.
Frank continued to study it, so I sat down at my usual place and hung my head over the paper, trying to think of something to draw... Unfortunately, Frank apparently had an attention span of a four year old. I looked up just in time to see him knocking over a jar of water with his elbow. The jar fell to the floor, and smashed. There was a mini explosion of glass and water against the tiled floor. He looked up at me alarmed, I just sighed and said "Leave it, they won't leave sharp objects around me for too long". He did as he was told and pulled out a chair across from me. As predicted two attendants rushed through the door and began to clean it up, even here I'm being watched.
Franks P.O.V
I brought a scrunched up scrap of paper and a pen out of my deep pockets and put them on the table. I smoothed out the paper and wrote the word "sorry." in the neatest handwriting I could manage. Then pushed the paper towards Gerard, he read it and looked up at me. "They get bigger messes to clean up in this place". "I was referring to earlier..." I scribbled down. "It's okay, I over reacted" he said clearing his throat. I paused for a moment, unsure how to reply. He looked at me awaiting reply, but finally said "It doesn't matter" He obviously didn't want to talk about it, and I was beginning to feel unwanted, so I ended the conversation with "OK, I'll go unpack."
His hazel eyes scanned through the medical chart, which pretty much summarised my life. His eyes stopped at one part, and I guessed by his raised eyebrows that he now understood. I sighed wishing I knew why. Why don't I speak? That's why I was here; they where trying to figure out what was wrong with me, so they could just shove more pills down my throat. It's totally messed up. I'm totally messed up. “Oh. Sorry...” He said sounding surprised, and handed me back the chart.
I re-attached it to the end of the bed, and turned to face him again, I was met by my new room-mate handing me his own medical chart. I began to scan though it, as he had to mine.
~Belleville Mental Institution~
Patient's Name: Gerard Arthur Way Patient's D.O.B: 4/9/1977
Medical History: Insomnia, Major Depression, Numerous Major Lacerations to the left arm and Minor Lacerations to the right.
My face dropped and I immediately felt my stomach churn in disbelief that someone could do that to themselves, I swallowed thickly.
Current Medical Treatment: Art Therapy, Counselling, Sedative Type A for: Insomnia, Alcoholism and Major Depression.
Notes: Two suicide attempts; most recent dated: 4/28/2003.
This would've been about four months ago. My eyes widened and I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of this and tried not to wince. I know it shouldn't but this makes me feel better, knowing that there's someone more messed up than me. Suddenly I feel guilty for my thoughts, that was wrong. What kind of person feels better about themselves because someone attempted suicide, twice.
Gerard's P.O.V
I could see the look of disgust in his face, he didn't need so say anything. I clenched my teeth regretting my actions. I subconsciously pulled down on my sleeves, so he couldn't even see my stubby fingers. He didn't take his eyes off the paper, I could tell he was re-reading it; trying to understand why anyone would do that to themselves. He silently placed it beside himself, his eyes still not leaving the paper. I sat there picking at the end of my sleeves. He was motionless staring at it with his big brown eyes.
I cleared my throat as if I were going to say something, but I couldn't think of anything to say. This got his attention and he looked up at me, I was expecting a sympathetic look, but instead he had a blank expression on his pale face. I tried to read it, to see what emotion he was hiding, but I couldn't see behind his dark empty eyes. Maybe that's how he felt, empty. He remained like this for a minute as we sat in silence with the odd shout or bump coming from next door. I couldn't take it any more so I stood up and walked out, I was heading for art therapy. This was one of the few places I felt safe, almost content at times.
I sped up my pace, not caring if my new room mate heard the squeak of sneakers, it's not like he could call after me. Everything here was pristine, I hated it. Eventually I reached the art rooms, as I moved to open the heavy door I found a slightly breathless Frank beside me. He moves silently too I thought to myself. I could tell that his little legs had been working hard to keep up. "Please leave me alone." I said in a blank tone. He looked up at me with his big eyes, like a lost child. I rolled my eyes as I held the door open and gestured for him to go through. "Go on then" I said giving up. He gave a weak smile and followed me. I went over to the cupboards to get paper and pencils. Leaving Frank by the door, he stood gazing up at the art plastered on the intensely white walls. Some, admittedly disturbing, but here was a place for colours, some of the very few in the building. I think this is why I felt better here. His eyes stopped at one piece; mine. He walked over to it and studied it closely. It'd been my first here, about 4 months ago, when I arrived. It was a figure curled up in a tight ball hugging itself, surrounded by darkness. I watched as Frank's tattooed fingers traced the outline of the figures face, he looked over at me as if to say "It's you, isn't it?" Unflinching I stared at him blankly.
Frank continued to study it, so I sat down at my usual place and hung my head over the paper, trying to think of something to draw... Unfortunately, Frank apparently had an attention span of a four year old. I looked up just in time to see him knocking over a jar of water with his elbow. The jar fell to the floor, and smashed. There was a mini explosion of glass and water against the tiled floor. He looked up at me alarmed, I just sighed and said "Leave it, they won't leave sharp objects around me for too long". He did as he was told and pulled out a chair across from me. As predicted two attendants rushed through the door and began to clean it up, even here I'm being watched.
Franks P.O.V
I brought a scrunched up scrap of paper and a pen out of my deep pockets and put them on the table. I smoothed out the paper and wrote the word "sorry." in the neatest handwriting I could manage. Then pushed the paper towards Gerard, he read it and looked up at me. "They get bigger messes to clean up in this place". "I was referring to earlier..." I scribbled down. "It's okay, I over reacted" he said clearing his throat. I paused for a moment, unsure how to reply. He looked at me awaiting reply, but finally said "It doesn't matter" He obviously didn't want to talk about it, and I was beginning to feel unwanted, so I ended the conversation with "OK, I'll go unpack."
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