Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Get Me Outta My Head
Bite the hand the feeds
Tap the vain that bleeds
Down on my bended knees
It was two in the morning and Frank had a real sleeping problem. He was in the kitchen, searching for anything to eat, because, God damn, couldn't they have something in the Way house to eat that wasn't healthy? He could only reach so far too.
Then a crack of light emerged from the door behind the table. He had been told to stay away from it, so he kept his respective distance. A figure came from behind the door.
Still a bit drunk from his last minute change of heart, he was scared. What if it was his father? What if he was coming back to inflict more damage? Because there would just never be enough.
He screamed out in terror.
"Relax," a familiar voice said, rushing over to his wheelchair. "It's just me."
Gerard?
Lindsey was walking into the house, roughly ten grocery bags in her left hand and car seat filled with a wriggling Bandit in the other. Her head was throbbing and pulsing. Originally she thought it was just a headache, soon to go away. It was so much worse than a simple headache or even a migraine.
It wasn't. Going. Away.
Pain. Pills weren't working. Overwhelming.
Throbbing, pulsing. And suddenly she couldn't stand anymore. She tried wretchedly to kept herself from falling.
She fell to the floor, groceries spilling and toppling out in all directions. Bandit crashed to the floor landing crookedly.
Lindsey blacked out.
The apartment door wide open and Bandit wailing at the top of her tiny lungs.
"Frank, you need to see a psychiatrist." Gerard said trying to soothe the seething teenager.
"No, I fucking don't." Frank said moodily with a menacing under tone.
This boy was going to grow up to be a problem. He'd fuck people up. He wouldn't take any shit. Gerard already knew.
"Frank, I know you do... You do to?" he said almost like a drawn out question.
"Okay, I'll play it your way, tell me what the fuck is wrong with me then?" he demanded.
"Look, I saw the writing on the bathroom walls," Gerard stated. "Serious stuff, Frank."
"No, you look, you don't know shit about me. So don't try and fucking fix me. You just want to medicate my mind and change me. I won't have none of that, faggot!" Frank told him.
Frank's utter disrespect sent him over the edge.
"You better watch your mouth." He said softly, dangerously, right up in Frank's face, his own face twisting up in anger as he gripped the arm rests of Frank's wheelchair.
Frank stared up at him with timid eyes as he shuttered away as best he could.
It was then Gerard realize his mistake and backed away. What had he done?
"I want out of your class." Frank said as he breathed.
"Fine. You fucking transfer, but you fucking need me!" Gerard called as Frank slowly started to make his way out of the room.
Gerard felt is eyes begin to prickle. Right then and right there. What just happened?
The next day Gerard sat at his desk. Not particularly expecting Frank to come. Not knowing where Frank would be though.
And when Frank did enter through the doorway he was pleasantly surprised yet still bitter.
Frank laid there curled in on himself as best he could, facing the wall, arms crossed, and teeth chattering.
He felt so sick, sick to his stomach.
You could see his ribs poking through.
Days like this he could never keep anything down.
Batman on his walls, peering down at him, he had to look away.
He had always liked Batman because he was a self made hero, an ordinary guy.
Frank refused to move at all because it hurt. Moving hurt. His bed coated in blood. Himself coated in blood. All down the back of his legs. He hurt. So bad. All he could think about. He thought things had been getting better. He was so wrong.
He whimpered. And to think, soon Frank would have to act like everything was okay.
"Frank, go clean your filthy ass off." his father snarled from the couch.
So, I'm cutting it here instead of continuing on with what I had because I want to post something, but I have two alternate chapters for 26. I still having a hard time choosing which route I wanna take. One would totally change the place I originally wanted to go with this but I still think it has a good possibility to look into. So... Yeah. Anyway, long note here, but two more days in Hell and then the updates should be easier coming.
You guys are FABULOUS! by the way. =)
XO
Becca
Tap the vain that bleeds
Down on my bended knees
It was two in the morning and Frank had a real sleeping problem. He was in the kitchen, searching for anything to eat, because, God damn, couldn't they have something in the Way house to eat that wasn't healthy? He could only reach so far too.
Then a crack of light emerged from the door behind the table. He had been told to stay away from it, so he kept his respective distance. A figure came from behind the door.
Still a bit drunk from his last minute change of heart, he was scared. What if it was his father? What if he was coming back to inflict more damage? Because there would just never be enough.
He screamed out in terror.
"Relax," a familiar voice said, rushing over to his wheelchair. "It's just me."
Gerard?
Lindsey was walking into the house, roughly ten grocery bags in her left hand and car seat filled with a wriggling Bandit in the other. Her head was throbbing and pulsing. Originally she thought it was just a headache, soon to go away. It was so much worse than a simple headache or even a migraine.
It wasn't. Going. Away.
Pain. Pills weren't working. Overwhelming.
Throbbing, pulsing. And suddenly she couldn't stand anymore. She tried wretchedly to kept herself from falling.
She fell to the floor, groceries spilling and toppling out in all directions. Bandit crashed to the floor landing crookedly.
Lindsey blacked out.
The apartment door wide open and Bandit wailing at the top of her tiny lungs.
"Frank, you need to see a psychiatrist." Gerard said trying to soothe the seething teenager.
"No, I fucking don't." Frank said moodily with a menacing under tone.
This boy was going to grow up to be a problem. He'd fuck people up. He wouldn't take any shit. Gerard already knew.
"Frank, I know you do... You do to?" he said almost like a drawn out question.
"Okay, I'll play it your way, tell me what the fuck is wrong with me then?" he demanded.
"Look, I saw the writing on the bathroom walls," Gerard stated. "Serious stuff, Frank."
"No, you look, you don't know shit about me. So don't try and fucking fix me. You just want to medicate my mind and change me. I won't have none of that, faggot!" Frank told him.
Frank's utter disrespect sent him over the edge.
"You better watch your mouth." He said softly, dangerously, right up in Frank's face, his own face twisting up in anger as he gripped the arm rests of Frank's wheelchair.
Frank stared up at him with timid eyes as he shuttered away as best he could.
It was then Gerard realize his mistake and backed away. What had he done?
"I want out of your class." Frank said as he breathed.
"Fine. You fucking transfer, but you fucking need me!" Gerard called as Frank slowly started to make his way out of the room.
Gerard felt is eyes begin to prickle. Right then and right there. What just happened?
The next day Gerard sat at his desk. Not particularly expecting Frank to come. Not knowing where Frank would be though.
And when Frank did enter through the doorway he was pleasantly surprised yet still bitter.
Frank laid there curled in on himself as best he could, facing the wall, arms crossed, and teeth chattering.
He felt so sick, sick to his stomach.
You could see his ribs poking through.
Days like this he could never keep anything down.
Batman on his walls, peering down at him, he had to look away.
He had always liked Batman because he was a self made hero, an ordinary guy.
Frank refused to move at all because it hurt. Moving hurt. His bed coated in blood. Himself coated in blood. All down the back of his legs. He hurt. So bad. All he could think about. He thought things had been getting better. He was so wrong.
He whimpered. And to think, soon Frank would have to act like everything was okay.
"Frank, go clean your filthy ass off." his father snarled from the couch.
So, I'm cutting it here instead of continuing on with what I had because I want to post something, but I have two alternate chapters for 26. I still having a hard time choosing which route I wanna take. One would totally change the place I originally wanted to go with this but I still think it has a good possibility to look into. So... Yeah. Anyway, long note here, but two more days in Hell and then the updates should be easier coming.
You guys are FABULOUS! by the way. =)
XO
Becca
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