FicWad

I did not make this intending to offend, upset or annoy people. It is fiction. I tried extremely hard to do it in a sensitive way. There was an internet rumour a while back about the lyrical meaning behind cemetery drive, a song from three cheers for sweet revenge. Me, being the research nerd I am, went further into this and found that the lyrics are based on the true story of an old friend of Gerard and Mikey’s, who killed herself after being found out to be having an affair. I created the character of Evelyn as a tribute, this IS NOT the truth; I DO NOT have any connections with MCR. This is purely fiction.
(1)
I didn’t want to open the door. No, I couldn’t face it.
I slumped my back against the bathroom door and put my head in my hands, feeling myself starting to shake.
‘Evelyn?’
It wasn’t even a whisper. I couldn’t bring myself to say her name out loud knowing what she’d done to herself. There was so much more I could of done to stop her, but she was just so determined to get away from him. All the time I couldn’t help wondering whether stopping her would have been a selfish thing, only wanting her alive for my own personal emotional benefits.
She spoke every day of the living hell her mind went through.
You see it all the time in the news, people arguing whether it’s fair to help a critically sick friend die.
She was sick. She was trapped. The only way she was sure she was safe was in heaven.
I’m not religious, never have been. But Ev... She was in heaven now.
Heaven would be lucky to have someone like Ev there.
Why was I thinking like this? Like it was a good thing? Why didn’t I stop her? Why didn’t I call the police, an ambulance, Luke?
My fault.
I’d never see her smile again.
Never.
I needed to go in there. I slowly took my head out of my hands and looked directly at the wall in front of me and tried to stand up. My legs collapsed from under me, I fell to the ground. And sobbed. I took hold of the door handle.
‘Evelyn, its Gerard. You’re going to be fine Ev, just you wait. We’ll meet again, just you see. You’re at a happier place now. Was this really the best way though? Really? Evelyn...’
I was speaking between tears, I couldn’t talk.
‘Gerard! Gerard! Where are you? What’s happening?’
Frankie’s voice bounded up the corridor. I looked up, my eyes tearstained.
‘She did it Frankie. She’s gone.’
Frank’s expression changed. From shocked, to angry, to confused, to distraught. He pushed me away from the handle and slammed the door open...
And she was lying there.
If I looked now, this would be my last memory of her. I turned away and sprinted down the corridor towards the reception room, not stopping. I could hear Frank dialling 911 in the background, asking for an ambulance. I kept on running. I ran out of the house, across the street and into the middle of a road, a car narrowly missing me as I stopped on the side of the pavement and collapsing.
People thought I was drunk again. I didn’t even care.
‘Back to his old ways again I see... It’s poor donna I feel sorry for-’
I screamed louder to block out the sound of passing people.
‘GERARD! I’m here baby, I’m here!’
I sat up in anger and screamed in the direction of Frankie, who was now running towards me, his hair sticky with sweat, his eyeliner smudged and wiped across his whole face, like another trailing tattoo.
‘FRANKIE YOU CAN’T LEAVE HER! GO BACK! GO BACK! SHE CAN’T BE ALONE, NOT NOW. SHE CAN’T BE-‘
He took my tightly into his arm and rocked me like a child whilst whispering comforting words into my head. I sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed.


(2)
The first show. Atlanta, 2004. Today, it had been 1 year since I lost my oldest and closest friend.
Evelyn commit suicide after years of abuse from her partner. She then had an affair with a man, he found out. It got too much for her.
She used to speak all the time of what life would be like for everyone without her. Of course, I always told her she was being stupid. We used to meet every night in the old cemetery and get wasted, while talking about her lives. I would talk about how the band was going, my dreams, my album plans, my feelings for Frank. Nobody else knew these things, of course. But Ev... I trusted her. I knew that she would never judge anyone, or want to hurt anyone.
That’s probably how she got involved with Luke. Thinking of him made me physically sick.
She always dreamt of being a dancer, I remember when we were 15, her making me draw pictures of dark, gothic ballet girls that she used to trace onto her body, delicate little ink pen tattoos.
It was the happy memories that got me through.
The alcohol was creeping back into my life.
But tonight, completely sober. I wanted to remember.
(3)
‘This song’s, um, called... cemetery drive.’
It was our finishing song of the night; I wanted to mark the occasion with the song that I had written for her. Nobody in the crowd knew the meaning of any of this. I found this oddly comforting.
The drums started playing, I heard the guitars burst into play mode. I sung the first lyrics...
The last note, I hit with passion. The last ‘way down’ was a whisper. I tear rolled down my cheek, the crowd looked on, cheering, screaming for encores. I looked over at Frankie, he smiled reassuringly.
‘This night, is dedicated to my friend who sadly passed away a year ago today. She was, um...’
They weren’t listening. What message would I give by telling them this though? Really? I needed a new plan, but people were leaving. I had an idea. I took the microphone, and I screamed:
‘WE WANT YOU TO LIVE! WE ARE HERE TO SAVE YOUR LIVES, LIKE YOU SAVED OURS! WE NEVER WANNA LET A SINGLE THING HURT ANY OF YOU! THANKYOU, I LOVE YOU.’
I threw my mic in the air, took a bow and walked off stage. I finished in a way Evelyn would have wanted.