Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Give Me a Reason to Believe.
“Did you finish your song?” Paisley asked tentatively . She knew she was treading on thin ice by such an innocent question when Gerard was in one of his moods. He had polished off his Jack Daniels and was now working on a Budweiser.
“When I’m done with it you will damn well know,” his tone was icy and slightly slurred.
She didn’t answer. Instead she stood behind him lightly ran her fingers through his short hair. His hand stopped moving.
“Do you want something?”
“No not really. I’m just showing my husband a little affection, if it’s ok.” She stressed the word husband.
Gerard gave an irritated sigh. Pushing his pad of paper and pen away, he pulled Paisley around till she faced him. Pushing her on his desk, he stood up glared at her before violently pulling her in for a kiss.
She pushed him off of her, “What the hell are you doing you bastard?”
He sneered, “I’m showing my wife a little affection, it’s ok with you?”
“It’s not ok Gerard. And neither are you. Get the hell off me.”
He didn’t protest. He moved out of her way. She grabbed her purse and ran up stairs, slamming the basement door on the way.
Everyone else was asleep upstairs. Paisley silently slipped out the front door and sprinted to her asthmatic Jetta.
Starting the engine, she backed out of the driveway. She didn’t know where she was going, nor did she care.
After driving for awhile, she found a restaurant with a payphone. Parking her car she jumped out and dialed her best friend Scarlet’s home. On the fourth ring, Scarlet answered in a sleepy voice.
“Hello?”
“Scarlet, it’s Paisley. I’m sorry to wake you, but it’s Gerard,” she cried.
Scarlet was instantly awake, “Girl, I’m up. I’ll make a pot of coffee, you just come on over.”
Paisley hung up the phone and got back into her Jetta. Scarlet lived in Hoboken, and she was half way there.
When Paisley pulled in the driveway, Scarlet was standing in the doorway, waiting to welcome Paisley in.
“I’m so sorry. I know it’s one in the morning, but—”she was cut off by Scarlet’s hug. Scarlet was a healthy sized 14 African American female from Virgina, sharing a common accent with Paisley.
“Your boy has been drinking again,” she guessed.
“Yeah. He was fine earlier today when he came it, laughing and talking with Helena. But he started drinking around five. He’s writing a song.”
Scarlet nodded as she handed Paisley a steaming cup of coffee and sat down at the table, “What did he do?”
Paisley told Scarlet what had happened, tears streaming down her face.
“Girl, I know you love him. And he loves you. He’s never done that before, has he?”
Paisley shook her head, “No. That’s why it scared me. I mean, look at my arms.” She pushed one of her sleeves up to show a bruise, roughly the size of Gerard’s hand.
“That happened when he grabbed you,” pity filled Scarlet’s eyes, “The devil has gotten into him. For some reason, we don’t know why. All we can do is pray. And I will, trust me. You two have come so far. I know I’ve only known you for two years, but from what you have told me, he loves you. And that baby. You and that baby are his life.”
Paisley and Scarlet talked for another hour before Paisley left. Scarlet stood on her front porch and waved goodbye as Paisley headed back for Belleville.
Thirty minutes later Paisley was tiptoeing down into the basement bedroom she shared with her husband. As she was about to lay down, Gerard spoke.
“You’ve been gone a long time,” he whispered as he turned on a lamp.
“I’m surprised you noticed,” Paisley sniffed.
Gerard’s eyes were bloodshot and his speech was tinged with a slur. He was slowly sobering.
“Don’t be like that baby.”
“I have every reason to be that way, Gerard.”
“Why,” he asked, confusion in his voice.
You
“You hurt me earlier,” she said in an even voice.
“I promised I’d never hurt you—” his eyes widened when he saw the bruises on both of Paisley’s arms, “I did that?”
Paisley’s face softened. He honestly didn’t remember.
“Yeah.” She didn’t explain what he did.
The two of them were silent for awhile. Finally Gerard spoke, “I didn’t mean to. I promise. You’re not going to leave me are you?”
Paisley didn’t answer. She pretended to be asleep. That was a good question. Was she going to leave?
“When I’m done with it you will damn well know,” his tone was icy and slightly slurred.
She didn’t answer. Instead she stood behind him lightly ran her fingers through his short hair. His hand stopped moving.
“Do you want something?”
“No not really. I’m just showing my husband a little affection, if it’s ok.” She stressed the word husband.
Gerard gave an irritated sigh. Pushing his pad of paper and pen away, he pulled Paisley around till she faced him. Pushing her on his desk, he stood up glared at her before violently pulling her in for a kiss.
She pushed him off of her, “What the hell are you doing you bastard?”
He sneered, “I’m showing my wife a little affection, it’s ok with you?”
“It’s not ok Gerard. And neither are you. Get the hell off me.”
He didn’t protest. He moved out of her way. She grabbed her purse and ran up stairs, slamming the basement door on the way.
Everyone else was asleep upstairs. Paisley silently slipped out the front door and sprinted to her asthmatic Jetta.
Starting the engine, she backed out of the driveway. She didn’t know where she was going, nor did she care.
After driving for awhile, she found a restaurant with a payphone. Parking her car she jumped out and dialed her best friend Scarlet’s home. On the fourth ring, Scarlet answered in a sleepy voice.
“Hello?”
“Scarlet, it’s Paisley. I’m sorry to wake you, but it’s Gerard,” she cried.
Scarlet was instantly awake, “Girl, I’m up. I’ll make a pot of coffee, you just come on over.”
Paisley hung up the phone and got back into her Jetta. Scarlet lived in Hoboken, and she was half way there.
When Paisley pulled in the driveway, Scarlet was standing in the doorway, waiting to welcome Paisley in.
“I’m so sorry. I know it’s one in the morning, but—”she was cut off by Scarlet’s hug. Scarlet was a healthy sized 14 African American female from Virgina, sharing a common accent with Paisley.
“Your boy has been drinking again,” she guessed.
“Yeah. He was fine earlier today when he came it, laughing and talking with Helena. But he started drinking around five. He’s writing a song.”
Scarlet nodded as she handed Paisley a steaming cup of coffee and sat down at the table, “What did he do?”
Paisley told Scarlet what had happened, tears streaming down her face.
“Girl, I know you love him. And he loves you. He’s never done that before, has he?”
Paisley shook her head, “No. That’s why it scared me. I mean, look at my arms.” She pushed one of her sleeves up to show a bruise, roughly the size of Gerard’s hand.
“That happened when he grabbed you,” pity filled Scarlet’s eyes, “The devil has gotten into him. For some reason, we don’t know why. All we can do is pray. And I will, trust me. You two have come so far. I know I’ve only known you for two years, but from what you have told me, he loves you. And that baby. You and that baby are his life.”
Paisley and Scarlet talked for another hour before Paisley left. Scarlet stood on her front porch and waved goodbye as Paisley headed back for Belleville.
Thirty minutes later Paisley was tiptoeing down into the basement bedroom she shared with her husband. As she was about to lay down, Gerard spoke.
“You’ve been gone a long time,” he whispered as he turned on a lamp.
“I’m surprised you noticed,” Paisley sniffed.
Gerard’s eyes were bloodshot and his speech was tinged with a slur. He was slowly sobering.
“Don’t be like that baby.”
“I have every reason to be that way, Gerard.”
“Why,” he asked, confusion in his voice.
You
“You hurt me earlier,” she said in an even voice.
“I promised I’d never hurt you—” his eyes widened when he saw the bruises on both of Paisley’s arms, “I did that?”
Paisley’s face softened. He honestly didn’t remember.
“Yeah.” She didn’t explain what he did.
The two of them were silent for awhile. Finally Gerard spoke, “I didn’t mean to. I promise. You’re not going to leave me are you?”
Paisley didn’t answer. She pretended to be asleep. That was a good question. Was she going to leave?
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