Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Torn
Gerard pulled the black Dodge Ram up to the curb in front of the house Alicia had instructed him to go to. He looked at it dubiously, and then he glanced around at the rest of the neighborhood. The place was dead. No one sat out on their porches outside. No one even looked out their windows at the strange car that had just pulled up. And that was strange because Gerard's car did not fit in with the other cars parked on the street. His was new, and it was nice, and it was shiny and gleaming. Not to mention it was expensive, but Gerard never had to worry about expensive. He had his ways.
The other cars on the street were dirty, run down, and beat up. Windshields were cracked, passenger side doors were crunched in, bumpers were hanging by threads. A sign of hard times. He looked back over at the house in front of him. What had Alicia said the problem was? Domestic abuse? Drugs? Malnutrition? All of the above? Who knows. All he remembered was her name. Kit. What a weird name. He knew nothing else about her. He could be rescuing a three-year-old, for all he knew. He hoped that wasn't the case. He wasn't too good with kids.
He opened the door and stepped out of the car. He looked around at the other houses. Still no sign of life. It was almost creepy. It probably would have been to anyone other than Gerard. Gerard had seen a lot of things. Gerard knew creepy.
He walked up to the front door and knocked. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked around at the grungy porch he stood on. The house was in desperate need of a paint job, among other things. He waited a few more minutes, and then he knocked again.
"What the fuck," he mumbled. He hadn't planned on no one being home. He was about to turn around and amble back to his car when the door swung open. He turned around and grimly studied the girl who stood in front of him. She had a baseball cap on her head with the brim pulled low in an attempt to shield her face, but there was no hiding the cuts, the two black eyes, the split lip. She squinted out at him. At least he thought she was squinting. It was pretty hard to tell, since her eyes were so swollen.
"Can I help you?" she asked. One corner of his mouth raised a fraction of an inch. Gerard's equivalent to a big, warm smile.
"I'm looking for Kit," he said. "Kit Starling." The girl looked back into the house, and then she turned back to him.
"That's me," she said in a low voice. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by muffled, drunken yelling coming from somewhere in the depths of the house. Kit looked casual now, but Gerard had already caught the small, sharp breath she'd taken at the sound of the voice. She cleared her throat and started to shut the door. "You should go," she said. He stuck his boot out to block the door.
"I'm here to get you out of here," he said. She looked back into the house again. Then she looked dubiously at Gerard's boot.
"Just...give me a second," she said. He removed his foot and she shut the door.
"Who the hell was that?!" he heard someone yell. He assumed it was the abusive step-father. Alicia hadn't mentioned any other angry, drunk men who lived here. He heard Kit's even reply and was pretty impressed. The girl didn't look too old. If he had to guess, he'd say she was around thirteen or fourteen, but he admired the levelness she was able to maintain in her voice when she talked to her step-dad. He didn't know about her mind, but there was no fear evident in her voice. He yelled at her a little while longer, and then something crashed, and then there was silence. Gerard waited a couple more minutes, but nothing else seemed to be happening. He moved over to the window and peered inside. No sign of any angry, staggering men surrounded by beer bottles. That was a good sign. He looked over towards the front of the living room, by the door, and saw Kit sprawled out on the floor, looking pretty unconscious. That was not a good sign.
He moved back over to the door and lounged against the doorframe, debating the merits of entering the house and dragging her out. He couldn't just leave her there, but going into the house to get her could cause problems if the step-dad heard him and decided to come investigate. He was still lounging there, thinking, when the door cracked open. He looked down and saw Kit, still lying on the floor, but apparently conscious now, for she was holding the door in her hand and staring up at him, looking slightly surprised.
"You're still here?" she asked.
"Of course I'm still here," he said, still leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. "Your cousin Alicia sent me to come get you."
Kit slowly sat up. He reached a hand out to her and helped her stand. She wobbled a little, but eventually she shook her head hard and walked past him, out of the house. "Great, let's go," she said. He stared after her.
"Don't you have anything you wanna grab first?" he asked.
"No way," she said without even turning around. "If I go back in the house, he'll...be there." Then she stopped and turned, looking torn. "Wait," she said, "there is one thing..." she snuck a nervous glance towards the house.
"Do you want me to come in with you?" Gerard asked. She looked him over and then shook her head.
"That would be even worse," she said. "Best if I go in alone." She took a deep breath. Then she walked up the stairs of the porch and into the house. Gerard listened, but he didn't hear any unusual sounds. That was good. A few minutes later, the door opened, and Kit ran outside and straight to Gerard's car. "Go!" she said, jumping into the passengers' seat. Gerard dove into the drivers' seat, yanked his seat belt over himself, and skidded away from the curb just as Kit's step-dad appeared on the porch with a shotgun.
"Christ," Gerard muttered, swerving the car to avoid the bullet that was careening towards the back right tire. He flew around the corner at the end of twenty-Third Street and Kit's shoulders slumped and she shrank into the passenger's seat. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh which seemed to release years of sadness, weariness, and tension.
"He's a mean guy, and he's done a lot, but he's never pulled a gun on me before," she said.
Gerard slid a curious glance her way. "What'd you go in to get?" he asked. She hadn't been carrying any bags when she'd run out the door. She hadn't even been holding anything in her hands. Kit leaned forward, reached around, and took something out of the back pocket of her jeans. She unfolded it and stared at it a while.
"Just a picture," she said. She folded it back up and put it back into her pocket. "My mom." He nodded. "So who are you, anyway?" she asked.
"My name's Gerard," he said. "I'm your cousin's boyfriend's brother."
"Oh," Kit said, studying him. "Alicia might've mentioned you." Gerard smiled.
"Not the greatest reviews I presume," he said.
"Not the greatest," she agreed.
"She thinks I'm bad news," Gerard said.
"Are you bad news?" Gerard thought about that for a bit.
"Depends how you look at it," he said. Kit wasn't sure what he meant by that, but she decided to let it go. She’d just been freed from a step-parent who beat the crap out of her on the regular. How much worse could Gerard really be?
"How old are you?" she asked.
"Twenty-two."
"Are you in college?"
"No."
"What do you do?"
Gerard slid his eyes over to her again. "You ask a lot of questions," he said.
"Sorry," she said. "I'm usually not this talkative." She looked out the window for a while, but for some reason she just couldn't shut up. "You live in Jersey, right?" she asked. He smiled.
"Yeah, I live in Jersey," he said. "I live with your cousin. Kind of."
"Kind of?"
He nodded. "I live all over the place," he said. She waited for him to elaborate on that, but he said nothing else. She wanted to ask, but she kept her mouth shut. If he'd wanted to tell her, he probably would have explained.
"So, can we stop somewhere?" she asked. "I'm really hungry." He shook his head and smiled as he pulled into a McDonalds' drive thru.
"Man, you are going to drive me crazy by the time we get to Jersey, aren’t you," he said, and she couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face.
The other cars on the street were dirty, run down, and beat up. Windshields were cracked, passenger side doors were crunched in, bumpers were hanging by threads. A sign of hard times. He looked back over at the house in front of him. What had Alicia said the problem was? Domestic abuse? Drugs? Malnutrition? All of the above? Who knows. All he remembered was her name. Kit. What a weird name. He knew nothing else about her. He could be rescuing a three-year-old, for all he knew. He hoped that wasn't the case. He wasn't too good with kids.
He opened the door and stepped out of the car. He looked around at the other houses. Still no sign of life. It was almost creepy. It probably would have been to anyone other than Gerard. Gerard had seen a lot of things. Gerard knew creepy.
He walked up to the front door and knocked. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked around at the grungy porch he stood on. The house was in desperate need of a paint job, among other things. He waited a few more minutes, and then he knocked again.
"What the fuck," he mumbled. He hadn't planned on no one being home. He was about to turn around and amble back to his car when the door swung open. He turned around and grimly studied the girl who stood in front of him. She had a baseball cap on her head with the brim pulled low in an attempt to shield her face, but there was no hiding the cuts, the two black eyes, the split lip. She squinted out at him. At least he thought she was squinting. It was pretty hard to tell, since her eyes were so swollen.
"Can I help you?" she asked. One corner of his mouth raised a fraction of an inch. Gerard's equivalent to a big, warm smile.
"I'm looking for Kit," he said. "Kit Starling." The girl looked back into the house, and then she turned back to him.
"That's me," she said in a low voice. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by muffled, drunken yelling coming from somewhere in the depths of the house. Kit looked casual now, but Gerard had already caught the small, sharp breath she'd taken at the sound of the voice. She cleared her throat and started to shut the door. "You should go," she said. He stuck his boot out to block the door.
"I'm here to get you out of here," he said. She looked back into the house again. Then she looked dubiously at Gerard's boot.
"Just...give me a second," she said. He removed his foot and she shut the door.
"Who the hell was that?!" he heard someone yell. He assumed it was the abusive step-father. Alicia hadn't mentioned any other angry, drunk men who lived here. He heard Kit's even reply and was pretty impressed. The girl didn't look too old. If he had to guess, he'd say she was around thirteen or fourteen, but he admired the levelness she was able to maintain in her voice when she talked to her step-dad. He didn't know about her mind, but there was no fear evident in her voice. He yelled at her a little while longer, and then something crashed, and then there was silence. Gerard waited a couple more minutes, but nothing else seemed to be happening. He moved over to the window and peered inside. No sign of any angry, staggering men surrounded by beer bottles. That was a good sign. He looked over towards the front of the living room, by the door, and saw Kit sprawled out on the floor, looking pretty unconscious. That was not a good sign.
He moved back over to the door and lounged against the doorframe, debating the merits of entering the house and dragging her out. He couldn't just leave her there, but going into the house to get her could cause problems if the step-dad heard him and decided to come investigate. He was still lounging there, thinking, when the door cracked open. He looked down and saw Kit, still lying on the floor, but apparently conscious now, for she was holding the door in her hand and staring up at him, looking slightly surprised.
"You're still here?" she asked.
"Of course I'm still here," he said, still leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. "Your cousin Alicia sent me to come get you."
Kit slowly sat up. He reached a hand out to her and helped her stand. She wobbled a little, but eventually she shook her head hard and walked past him, out of the house. "Great, let's go," she said. He stared after her.
"Don't you have anything you wanna grab first?" he asked.
"No way," she said without even turning around. "If I go back in the house, he'll...be there." Then she stopped and turned, looking torn. "Wait," she said, "there is one thing..." she snuck a nervous glance towards the house.
"Do you want me to come in with you?" Gerard asked. She looked him over and then shook her head.
"That would be even worse," she said. "Best if I go in alone." She took a deep breath. Then she walked up the stairs of the porch and into the house. Gerard listened, but he didn't hear any unusual sounds. That was good. A few minutes later, the door opened, and Kit ran outside and straight to Gerard's car. "Go!" she said, jumping into the passengers' seat. Gerard dove into the drivers' seat, yanked his seat belt over himself, and skidded away from the curb just as Kit's step-dad appeared on the porch with a shotgun.
"Christ," Gerard muttered, swerving the car to avoid the bullet that was careening towards the back right tire. He flew around the corner at the end of twenty-Third Street and Kit's shoulders slumped and she shrank into the passenger's seat. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh which seemed to release years of sadness, weariness, and tension.
"He's a mean guy, and he's done a lot, but he's never pulled a gun on me before," she said.
Gerard slid a curious glance her way. "What'd you go in to get?" he asked. She hadn't been carrying any bags when she'd run out the door. She hadn't even been holding anything in her hands. Kit leaned forward, reached around, and took something out of the back pocket of her jeans. She unfolded it and stared at it a while.
"Just a picture," she said. She folded it back up and put it back into her pocket. "My mom." He nodded. "So who are you, anyway?" she asked.
"My name's Gerard," he said. "I'm your cousin's boyfriend's brother."
"Oh," Kit said, studying him. "Alicia might've mentioned you." Gerard smiled.
"Not the greatest reviews I presume," he said.
"Not the greatest," she agreed.
"She thinks I'm bad news," Gerard said.
"Are you bad news?" Gerard thought about that for a bit.
"Depends how you look at it," he said. Kit wasn't sure what he meant by that, but she decided to let it go. She’d just been freed from a step-parent who beat the crap out of her on the regular. How much worse could Gerard really be?
"How old are you?" she asked.
"Twenty-two."
"Are you in college?"
"No."
"What do you do?"
Gerard slid his eyes over to her again. "You ask a lot of questions," he said.
"Sorry," she said. "I'm usually not this talkative." She looked out the window for a while, but for some reason she just couldn't shut up. "You live in Jersey, right?" she asked. He smiled.
"Yeah, I live in Jersey," he said. "I live with your cousin. Kind of."
"Kind of?"
He nodded. "I live all over the place," he said. She waited for him to elaborate on that, but he said nothing else. She wanted to ask, but she kept her mouth shut. If he'd wanted to tell her, he probably would have explained.
"So, can we stop somewhere?" she asked. "I'm really hungry." He shook his head and smiled as he pulled into a McDonalds' drive thru.
"Man, you are going to drive me crazy by the time we get to Jersey, aren’t you," he said, and she couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face.
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