Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You

House Of Wolves

by xSixteenxCandlesx 0 Reviews

Well, I don't wanna give too much away...so read and find out what happens. ;)

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Horror - Characters: Bob Bryar,Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Mikey Way,Ray Toro - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2008/03/20 - Updated: 2008/03/20 - 1282 words

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Author's Note: Firstly, I apologize for not updating in like, 45837593857 months. Okay, well, about four months. But that's besides the point. I tend to suffer from laziness. Plus, I just became uninterested in writing for awhile. But, I'm back again, and I'm gonna try to finish this one up, since I've got ideas for new stories. Please read, and REVIEW. Thanks.





Gerard sank to the floor in the tiny closet. He huddled into a corner, and pulled his knees up to his chest. There was queazy, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Resting his chin upon his knees, Gerard wondered where his friends where hiding. He wondered if they were alright. He wondered if he'd ever see them again.

"No," He told himself firmly, "Don't think like-"

Gerard froze in mid-thought.

He paused, listening intently to the faint thudding noise that seemed to be coming closer. He imediately identified the sound as footsteps. He sighed in relief as the footsteps kept on going, continuing past Mikey's room and down the hallway.






Upstairs in the attic, Frank held his nose in disgust. He wondered what in God's name that foul smell was coming from. As he shifted his body weight, he put his hand in something sticky and warm. 'Ugh,' he thought, screwing up his face and wiping his hand in his jeans. At that moment, his phone vibrated and rang loudly in his hoodie pocket. He reached in and pulled it out, flipping it open. It was a text from Gerard.

'Are you okay?' It said.

'Fine. What about you?' Frank texted back. He hit the 'send' button. He waited for Gerard to text him back. As he did so, he became aware of a warm substance dripping from somewhere above his head and onto his shoulder. Frustrated now, Frank reached up to his shoulder. He imediately identified it as the the same liquid that was all over the floor. As he felt another drop of the warm, thick liquid splatter onto his hand, he squinted up into the darkness. He raised his cell phone into the air facing the ceiling, letting the backlight shine upwards, revealing a mangled, bloody human body crammed into the top shelf. He let out a cry and dropped the phone. In a panic, he moved blindly backwards in the darkness. He toppled over something in a heap on the floor. He landed on the floor next to said heap. Opening his eyes, Frank found himself face to face with yet another bloody corpse. Only this time, the body's eyes were open, glazed over, staring lifelessly into his own.

"Oh, fuck!" he yelled as loud as his lungs would allow.







Outside, Ray heard Frank's cry. In a hurry, he took out his phone and sent a text message to Frank's cell.

'Frankie? You okay?' He texted.






Jumping up, Frank flung the door open, and stumbled out of the closet in a panic. He bolted across the room, leaning back against the wall when he had put as much distance between himself and the bodies as possible. After he caught his breath, he heard his phone's ringer. 'Shit,' he thought, 'shit, shit, shit.' He walked on shaking legs back across the attic, and stopped at the closet door. He braced himself, sucked in his breath, and wrenched the door open. He bent over, feeling around blindly for his cellphone. Finally, he felt it under his palm. Grabbing it from the floor, Frank ran from the closet. He didn't stop running until he had left the attic far behind him. At that point, he realized that he was extremely vulnerable in the empty hall, with nothing to hide behind and no weapon to defend himself with. An anxious feeling washed over him. Frank could feel his heart thudding loudly in his chest as the feeling one gets when they are being watched became harder and harder to ignore. He nearly had a heart attack when his phone beeped again. He flipped it open savagely, fumbling with it in his shaky hands for a moment, before he managed to shut off the ringer. Quickly and silently, Frank made his way into the nearest room. He shut the door quietly and locked it behind him. He looked at the new text message displayed on the screen.

'Frankie? You okay?' It was from Ray.

Frank punched a few buttons on the keypad. 'I'm fine. Where are you?' He hit 'send.'

Ray's reply came a few seconds later.

'Outside. It's safe out here. Meet me on the front porch.'

Frank replied without hesitation. 'Be there soon, see you in a few.'

He stopped pacing, and cracked the door open just a little bit. He looked around. As far as he could tell, there was no one out there. He stepped outside, and tiptoed down the hall and down the stairs. Nearing the bottom, Frank remembered to jump the step that creaked. He landed silently on the floor. Frank poked his head around the corner. His jaw dropped and his stomach lurched. It was him. The crazy man who had killed his best friend and damned them all to hell. Frank felt an overwhelming surge of anger. The intruder was caught off guard as Frank tackled him and dragged him to the floor, clutching his neck tightly. After a minute or so, Frank could see his opponent's eyes going wide, and his lips turning blue as he made little gasps for air. Frank let go and threw a punch at the other man's face. Grabbing Frank's fist before it made contact with his body, the intruder twisted it around until Frank heard a horrid snapping noise, followed by immense pain in his right wrist. As Frank let out a growl of anger and clutched his wrist, the intruder was up on his feet within seconds. He kicked Frank in the stomach, hard. Frank whimpered, as he dodged another kick aimed at the side of his head- and another, and another, each sending a fresh surge of pain through his body, until he was too weak to move. He watched in horror as his opponent drew a long knife from his pocket. With a sick smile, he took a step towards Frank. Just at that moment, Frank heard footsteps. The he heard a voice.

"GET AWAY FROM HIM, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" It was Ray.

Frank watched as Ray dodged multiple blows from the knife and kicked the intruder in the ankles, causing him to fall to the ground in pain. He made a violent slashing motion with his knife in mid-fall, narrowly avoiding Ray's stomach, coming into contact instead with his forearm. It cut the skin, making a long slit that, fortunately, wasn't very deep. Ray ignored the pain, and kicked the knife out of the other man's hand. Then, with a running start, he aimed his foot at the intruder's face. There was a sickening crunch as his nose broke, and blood spurted out in all directions. He stood back, still glaring at his opponent. When the other man didn't get back up, Ray dropped on the floor next Frank.

"We gotta get away from here, can you walk?" Ray's voice was urgent as he spoke to Frank.

"I-I think so, but I'm pretty sure my wrist is broken." Frank stammered.



Silently, Ray helped Frank up off the floor.

"Ray, you're bleeding!" Frank said suddenly. Ray looked down at his arm.

"Oh...yeah, I am." He said indifferently. He took off his scarf and wrapped it tightly aroung his forearm, clotting the blood flow. "Now let's go, fast, before he wakes up."
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