Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Which Way is the Right Way?
Which Way is the Right Way?
1 reviewMikey was her first choice, Gerard became an alternative. Her secret life could kill them all.
1Ambiance
Hey kids, this story was started awhile ago...posted on old account (micvsmoshpit) but I changed the first chapter a lot...you know when you read your story after awhile and your like, jeeze thats pretty shitty, yeah thats what happened to me...So anywho, please read/review/fate if your nice :D disclaimer*obvs I dont know, own mcr members and such things associated with the band..**
The second I had walked in the front door, I knew something was terribly wrong. My first clue was the broken picture in the hallway. I held my breath as I walked into the living room to see overturned chairs and pillows everywhere. Beer bottles littered the coffee table, little red spots stained the carpet.
I should have known he wasn't going to stop I thought to myself. My dad had been sober for less than a month, and without a doubt, it was taking a toll on the family. He walked around the house grumbling to himself, at times yelling at me for no reason at all. He was less violent than he was when he was drunk, but I knew better to stay out of his way. Now he was back to his old ways and there was nothing I could do about it.
I trudged up the stairs to my room, my anger bubbling in my stomach. My fists were both clenched tightly, my knuckles turning white, my hand started to go numb. It was going to be a long weekend. If I had any sense, I would have stayed at a friends, but if I had done that, my mother would be left at his mercy. There was not a chance in hell that I was going to leave her alone with the pathetic human known as my father. As I reached the top of the staircase, I heard soft sobs coming from down the hall.
"Mom?" I called softly. The cries ceased as I walked towards their room. My palms and feet had suddenly become clammy, the bottoms of my feet stuck to the hardwood floors. I peered into the bathroom and didn't see anything, so I walked into the washroom.
"Hey honey", my mom said wiping her tears away. "How was your day?"
It was as if I had walked into a murder scene. "Fuck. Mom what happened?" I muttered as I rushed over to her,trying to ignore all the blood on the green marble counter and white tiles.
"Nothing. I just cut myself while making salad. It was an accident. Why don't you go and do your homework honey. I'll have dinner ready soon."
She was a terrible liar, we both knew it. She loved my father, no matter what he did to her, and she was trying to protect him. He made me sick to my stomach.
I went downstairs and surveyed the kitchen. There were vegetables on the cutting board, and a knife was laying next to it with blood on it. There was a broken glass on the floor and water everywhere. It was easy to assume that she had been making a salad when my father attacked her.
I climbed the stairs two at a time and re-entered my moms washroom as she was cleaning all her blood.
'Mom, you need to make him stop this."
"Stop what honey?" she said avoiding making eye contact with me.
"I swear to god mom, if you don't make him stop this, then I will do something about it myself. I am not going to sit here and pretend like I don't know what is going on. That man is a fucking beast, mom. He doesn't deserve you! You cannot let him get away with any of this." I stormed out of her room, not exactly sure of where to go and what to do. My best friend was on vacation, she was out of the question. My other friends, who could barely be called friends, were not even worth trying. So I shut myself in my room, trying to figure out how I could help my mother.
I must have been lying on my bed for what seemed like an hour, until I heard a loud noise coming from downstairs. I walked over to my door and opened it a crack so I could hear what was happening.
"Why the hell aren't you making my dinner?" I heard my dad yell. I could tell he was still drunk from before, if not more so.
"Please don't yell." my mom said calmly. "Your daughter is upstairs."
"I'll do whatever I damn well please. This is my house!" he yelled even louder. "Now make my food."
"I was just doing that Chad."
"Don't talk back to me bitch. Just do it!"
I could hear my mom puttering around, and then came the sound i was terrified to hear. A loud crash, and then, "Please don't. Please," I heard my mom whimpering, but he did it anyway. I heard a huge thump and my mom started crying again.
"Don't tell me what to do!" He was screaming now. "Get up. I said get up!" Yet again there was another noise, and my mom started crying even harder. I couldn't take it anymore so I ran down the stairs nearly tripping and went into the kitchen. I stood in the doorway and say my mom lying on the ground. My dad stood above her, red faced, and he looked like he was going to kick her.
"Stop it!" I yelled at him. "Don't touch her."
He turned to face me. "Get out. You shouldn't be here."
"Stop it!"
My dad walked towards me, and yelled at my face, I could feel spit spray it. "Leave."
"NO"
My mom yelled "don't" but he did it anyway, and as used to it as I was, it never ceased to hurt the more he did it. I heard my mom screaming at my dad, but I couldn't understand what she was saying. I sat up, my arms cradling my stomach, and then my head. My hand became warm, something was running down my arm. The crimson liquid began flowing down my arm, into my eyes, as I lay back on the floor and waited.
The second I had walked in the front door, I knew something was terribly wrong. My first clue was the broken picture in the hallway. I held my breath as I walked into the living room to see overturned chairs and pillows everywhere. Beer bottles littered the coffee table, little red spots stained the carpet.
I should have known he wasn't going to stop I thought to myself. My dad had been sober for less than a month, and without a doubt, it was taking a toll on the family. He walked around the house grumbling to himself, at times yelling at me for no reason at all. He was less violent than he was when he was drunk, but I knew better to stay out of his way. Now he was back to his old ways and there was nothing I could do about it.
I trudged up the stairs to my room, my anger bubbling in my stomach. My fists were both clenched tightly, my knuckles turning white, my hand started to go numb. It was going to be a long weekend. If I had any sense, I would have stayed at a friends, but if I had done that, my mother would be left at his mercy. There was not a chance in hell that I was going to leave her alone with the pathetic human known as my father. As I reached the top of the staircase, I heard soft sobs coming from down the hall.
"Mom?" I called softly. The cries ceased as I walked towards their room. My palms and feet had suddenly become clammy, the bottoms of my feet stuck to the hardwood floors. I peered into the bathroom and didn't see anything, so I walked into the washroom.
"Hey honey", my mom said wiping her tears away. "How was your day?"
It was as if I had walked into a murder scene. "Fuck. Mom what happened?" I muttered as I rushed over to her,trying to ignore all the blood on the green marble counter and white tiles.
"Nothing. I just cut myself while making salad. It was an accident. Why don't you go and do your homework honey. I'll have dinner ready soon."
She was a terrible liar, we both knew it. She loved my father, no matter what he did to her, and she was trying to protect him. He made me sick to my stomach.
I went downstairs and surveyed the kitchen. There were vegetables on the cutting board, and a knife was laying next to it with blood on it. There was a broken glass on the floor and water everywhere. It was easy to assume that she had been making a salad when my father attacked her.
I climbed the stairs two at a time and re-entered my moms washroom as she was cleaning all her blood.
'Mom, you need to make him stop this."
"Stop what honey?" she said avoiding making eye contact with me.
"I swear to god mom, if you don't make him stop this, then I will do something about it myself. I am not going to sit here and pretend like I don't know what is going on. That man is a fucking beast, mom. He doesn't deserve you! You cannot let him get away with any of this." I stormed out of her room, not exactly sure of where to go and what to do. My best friend was on vacation, she was out of the question. My other friends, who could barely be called friends, were not even worth trying. So I shut myself in my room, trying to figure out how I could help my mother.
I must have been lying on my bed for what seemed like an hour, until I heard a loud noise coming from downstairs. I walked over to my door and opened it a crack so I could hear what was happening.
"Why the hell aren't you making my dinner?" I heard my dad yell. I could tell he was still drunk from before, if not more so.
"Please don't yell." my mom said calmly. "Your daughter is upstairs."
"I'll do whatever I damn well please. This is my house!" he yelled even louder. "Now make my food."
"I was just doing that Chad."
"Don't talk back to me bitch. Just do it!"
I could hear my mom puttering around, and then came the sound i was terrified to hear. A loud crash, and then, "Please don't. Please," I heard my mom whimpering, but he did it anyway. I heard a huge thump and my mom started crying again.
"Don't tell me what to do!" He was screaming now. "Get up. I said get up!" Yet again there was another noise, and my mom started crying even harder. I couldn't take it anymore so I ran down the stairs nearly tripping and went into the kitchen. I stood in the doorway and say my mom lying on the ground. My dad stood above her, red faced, and he looked like he was going to kick her.
"Stop it!" I yelled at him. "Don't touch her."
He turned to face me. "Get out. You shouldn't be here."
"Stop it!"
My dad walked towards me, and yelled at my face, I could feel spit spray it. "Leave."
"NO"
My mom yelled "don't" but he did it anyway, and as used to it as I was, it never ceased to hurt the more he did it. I heard my mom screaming at my dad, but I couldn't understand what she was saying. I sat up, my arms cradling my stomach, and then my head. My hand became warm, something was running down my arm. The crimson liquid began flowing down my arm, into my eyes, as I lay back on the floor and waited.
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