Ray's condition is worse than thought, and everyone feels the effects. Mikey begins to fall into a depression, Frank loses Skeleton Crew and Reprise Records drops the band. Bob seems like the onl...
"Ray is in a coma..." Were the doctor's first words on Ray's condition. "He's slipping back and forth between steady and erratic heart beats. If his heart keep this up, it might prove to be too stressful. We are going to have to perform a liver and kidney transplant. He has a fractured tibia, and slight skull fractures and minor brain damage." The doctor's words cut right through Gerard. It was all his fault. If only...No! Don't think like that, Gerard.
You need to be positive. You need to be strong, for Ray. He told himself that over and over.
"The brain damage is from being in the water for so long." The doctor continued, "Without oxygen, it caused a lot of swelling. The swelling has gone down some, but not quite enough to put him out of the danger zone." Gerard nodded. "For insurance reasons, we need to know what happened. Do you know anything?"
Gerard shook his head. Of course he knew, but he couldn't say anything. It was wrong...and it was all his fault. Just shut up!!! Gerard looked at the doctor. "I'm sorry...all I know is that he got upset. I never dreamed that Ray could ever...ever do anything like this."
"We understand that this was a suicide attempt, correct?" Gerard nodded again. "In that case, the only way his insurance would cover would be if he was proved mentally ill. Is he on any medications, suffer from depression? Anything like that?" Gerard shook his head no.
"I'm sorry, doctor. I really don't know anything." The doctor nodded.
"We don't know how long he'll be in a coma, or when his brain will start to show any improved activity. We'd like to move him to a better equipped hospital. But we need permission." The doctor looked to Gerard. "Would that be okay?"
"Yes. Anything that you think would help him, do it." The doctor nodded then stopped walking. "This is his room." Gerard looked over, peering into the window. Jesus...
"Can I-" The doctor opened the door and left Gerard alone with Ray.
"God, Ray." Gerard said, taking in Ray's bruised, swollen face, casted leg and wrapped up skull. His whole body was riddled with purple bruises and red cuts. Gerard couldn't stand to look at what he and Frank had caused. "I'm so sorry Ray."
Mikey rolled over to face the wall. He just couldn't sleep. Ray was on his mind ever since Gerard had called them to inform them on Ray's condition. From the looks of it, it wasn't good. Bob had broke down and cried and then called their manager to inform them on the accident. It wasn't looking good on this prospect either.
Their manager had threatened to drop them if another 'Gerard-like' incident occurred. He let it slide with Frankie, but with Ray? He said that'd it gone to too far. Their manager was now fuming somewhere far away in the Caribbean. He was probably wishing he'd never signed on this motley crew with all their fucked up personalities and gothic outlooks upon life. Mikey was sure that they'd get dropped.
And then what? Would they all sign on to Frank's Skeleton Crew? Hell no. He needed to stay on Reprise records. It was practically his life! How could everyone go and fucking screw up his life? They had no right to pull this fucking shit!
God, listen to him. He was tired. That was it. And he was taking out his frustration on everyone else. God...Mikey groaned and rolled over again. His wrist was killing him and his knee was on fucking fire. He needed some meds. But everyone was asleep. How was he supposed to get all the way to the kitchen?
He sighed and gingerly swung his legs out form the covers. His knee protested with a sharp pain and he used his good arm to prop himself up. He could limp. And he would. He needed pills. Mikey laughed to himself and he tried to limp down the all. That wouldn't work. He began to hop on one leg, and that worked fine. After a well spent moment, finally breathless, he found himself in the kitchen. He saw the pharmacy bag and opened it. Yea, Morphine and Oxycodone. That would work.
He took one of each and hobbled to the mini fridge. He pulled out a beer and went to the couch. You weren't supposed to take pills with alcohol, but what the hell? May be they'd work faster. He took a swig, held the beer in his mouth and dropped the pills in, swallowing.
Bob would be mad if he knew Mikey were doing this, Ray would be even madder. But Ray wasn't here. And Bob was asleep. In a way, he was alone. He sighed again. Ray...god did he miss that boy already.
Frank got the call that morning. Skeleton Crew was gone. Frank sat at the table, cell phone in had, knuckles white. Skeleton Crew's members had all dropped. What the fuck was he going to do now? He was screwed. Skeleton Crew was gone and he now had nothing.
Bob got the call that morning. Reprise decided they didn't need a 'typical EMO, depressing, clinically ill band' on it's label. They dropped My Chemical Romance. Bob sat on the couch, head in hands, silent tears running down his face. He didn't need this shit. What the hell were they going to now? MCR was royal fucked up the ass this time. Bob stood and grabbed his keys. He needed some fresh air. No.
He needed to stay with Mikey. Mikey didn't want to wake up this morning. In fact, the exact words out of Mikey's mouth were 'I'm never waking up...ever again.'. Bob sighed and sat back down. Frank was at the table. He looked bad.
Skeleton Crew was gone. Reprise was gone. What was left for them now? Basically nothing, was what was left. A big fat nothing. And why?
God, Bob didn't even want to get into it right now. He pushed all his thought away and leaned into the couch, praying for help. Please, God, if you're out there...you've got to help.
Mikey got the call that morning. Gerard was hysterical. Ray was bad, and they wanted to move him. Mikey told Gerard to do what he thought best. Gerard quickly agreed and told Mikey he'd be home later. Mikey told him to be safe. But Mikey really didn't care. His life was fucked.
Bob had come in earlier to tell him the news about Skeleton Crew and Reprise Records. He really didn't care. Honestly. All of them were fucked hopelessly. There was nothing, nothing that they could do.
What were they going to do? Who was going to sign them on? Victory? Virgin sure as wouldn't. Tooth and Nail possibly? But no one was a better represented than Reprise. They'd been there since day one practically.
Mikey sighed and pulled the covers over his body and around him tightly. He didn't care. He just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. 'Pull-a-Frankie' so to speak. He laughed at his wry humor. Fuck Frankie. It was all his fucking fault they were in this shit so deep. He sighed again and yawned.
He didn't care. They all had there own problems now. Each and everyone of them. Temporary? Fuck no.
Temporary problems didn't even begin to exist around here. When you were famous, no problem was even near temporary. Mikey groaned and pulled the blankets over his head.
Temporary...if there was only such a thing.