Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge
Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge
0 reviewsAn empty Storage unit where no one can hear you scream...
0Unrated
a/n- so i was going to wait until i got more than one review (thanks lisa_lou) but i got impatient, so i'm updating now :P but PLEASE PLEASE review!!!
warning - severe graphic violence...
“Look” Gerard said, flipping open his knife and flicking a piece of what looked like bright red rust at Jackson “it still has your blood on it from last time” he casually flicked it upright and slashed at Jackson’s tendons, bringing him to his knees. The concrete walls and the sock stuffed in his mouth muffled his yells.
The revenge-fuelled teen bent down to the container at his side and swiftly replaced the gag in Jackson’s mouth with black, viscous petrol, tipping a good half of it down his throat before soaking the sock in petrol and shoving it none to gently in place again.
“This is what Aimee smelt when you doused her in gasoline”
Next, he opened his lighter and watched the flame dance before holding it to Jackson’s hand, right where the nerves were the most sensitive. Little did he know that he was doing the very thing Aimee had told her drama class to try.
As the smell of burning flesh filled the unit, Gerard whispered
“This is only a fraction of what Aimee felt when you set her alight”
Pocketing the lighter, he studied the bleeding boy on the ground before him, trussed up like a chicken and staring at him in unadulterated terror. Gerard studied Jackson as if he was about to paint him, like a work of art. In some ways, he thought, this was art.
He went to work like a butcher, cutting muscles in Jackson’s armpits, Achilles heel, and wrists. None of the cuts were so deep as to cause significant blood loss, as Gerard aimed them to cut the tendons and ligaments without getting too deep. Not for nothing had he listened in Biology. Soon, Jackson was reduced to a quivering, bleeding mass.
Gerard grinned; his once beautiful eyes had grown so dark they looked black. Even the effort of mutilating Jackson didn’t bring colour to his bone white skin. He admired his slender fingers, pianist fingers, Elena had said, now spattered and dripping rubies. His eyes flicked back to his victim, cowering before him. He grabbed Jackson’s head and dragged it up to meet him.
“Now, I’m going to make sure you never hurt Aimee again, you won’t be able to in your state.” Gerard admired his knife again, frowning at the contrast of silver blade, red blood and white skin.
“In Ancient Rome,” Gerard continued conversationally “followers of the Magna Mater danced themselves into frenzy, and then castrated themselves with stone knives, flinging the offending organs at a statue of Cybele.”
Jackson’s pupils contracted in fear.
“Yep, that’s right Jacko, today, you are going to become like those followers”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hey sergeant, the anonymous tip off was right; we got a kid here, lying in a pool of his own blood, he’s in a bad state, real messed up. His arms, wrists, knees, ankles, have all been slashed, and…oh holy Mother of God…the kid’s had his balls cut off. Oh Jesus. He’s still alive! Get an ambulance here now! Storage unit 43 at 20 Mills St. what on earth happened here?!
warning - severe graphic violence...
“Look” Gerard said, flipping open his knife and flicking a piece of what looked like bright red rust at Jackson “it still has your blood on it from last time” he casually flicked it upright and slashed at Jackson’s tendons, bringing him to his knees. The concrete walls and the sock stuffed in his mouth muffled his yells.
The revenge-fuelled teen bent down to the container at his side and swiftly replaced the gag in Jackson’s mouth with black, viscous petrol, tipping a good half of it down his throat before soaking the sock in petrol and shoving it none to gently in place again.
“This is what Aimee smelt when you doused her in gasoline”
Next, he opened his lighter and watched the flame dance before holding it to Jackson’s hand, right where the nerves were the most sensitive. Little did he know that he was doing the very thing Aimee had told her drama class to try.
As the smell of burning flesh filled the unit, Gerard whispered
“This is only a fraction of what Aimee felt when you set her alight”
Pocketing the lighter, he studied the bleeding boy on the ground before him, trussed up like a chicken and staring at him in unadulterated terror. Gerard studied Jackson as if he was about to paint him, like a work of art. In some ways, he thought, this was art.
He went to work like a butcher, cutting muscles in Jackson’s armpits, Achilles heel, and wrists. None of the cuts were so deep as to cause significant blood loss, as Gerard aimed them to cut the tendons and ligaments without getting too deep. Not for nothing had he listened in Biology. Soon, Jackson was reduced to a quivering, bleeding mass.
Gerard grinned; his once beautiful eyes had grown so dark they looked black. Even the effort of mutilating Jackson didn’t bring colour to his bone white skin. He admired his slender fingers, pianist fingers, Elena had said, now spattered and dripping rubies. His eyes flicked back to his victim, cowering before him. He grabbed Jackson’s head and dragged it up to meet him.
“Now, I’m going to make sure you never hurt Aimee again, you won’t be able to in your state.” Gerard admired his knife again, frowning at the contrast of silver blade, red blood and white skin.
“In Ancient Rome,” Gerard continued conversationally “followers of the Magna Mater danced themselves into frenzy, and then castrated themselves with stone knives, flinging the offending organs at a statue of Cybele.”
Jackson’s pupils contracted in fear.
“Yep, that’s right Jacko, today, you are going to become like those followers”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hey sergeant, the anonymous tip off was right; we got a kid here, lying in a pool of his own blood, he’s in a bad state, real messed up. His arms, wrists, knees, ankles, have all been slashed, and…oh holy Mother of God…the kid’s had his balls cut off. Oh Jesus. He’s still alive! Get an ambulance here now! Storage unit 43 at 20 Mills St. what on earth happened here?!
Sign up to rate and review this story