Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Heaven Help Us
Note. Hi, is anyone there?! I really, really need someone to tell me what they think of this and if I should continue. Not `cause I`m an attention seeker, but `cause I`m really not sure about this.So, please? Hope you like it (if anyone is reading)And it SHOULD get better soon
xoxodakota
Gerard`s pov.
Ow…Everything hurt. My arms were absolutely covered in deep cuts, scratches as well as being covered in purple and black splotches. I had a killer headache, my head was literally pounding, which meant my vision was `t good at all, making everything blurred and out of focus. Obviously, my back hurt. An angel wasn’t supposed to lose their wings; they especially weren’t supposed to have them cruelly and viciously ripped out. I was lying on the ground, crumpled into a small, bloody heap, waiting for death to come and claim me once more. That is, if I could die again. Can something which has died die again? I doubted it, where would I go? I had already been cast out of heaven, but not before I had been cruelly humiliated and tortured, in front o0f my own little brother, who had done nothing to stop it.
It pained me too much to keep my hazel, damp from crying, eyes open but I hadn’t the strength to shut them either. Even if I did have the strength, I was too afraid to see what horrors my mind would come up with to scare and taunt me with. It had been years now since I had had an unbroken, peaceful night of sleep, even up in heaven my dreams had been haunted. Haunted by their faces, their evil smirks and jeers as they kicked me down to the floor, trampled on my broken body, spat on me, making my life a living hell. It still was, even though my heart no longer beat within my chest and my lungs never filled with air. Even though I wasn’t alive, I was still longing to not exist, to die, even though I already had. And it was them, they had done this to me, it was all their fault. Well, not entirely, I was to blame as well of course. If only I could have fitted in better, if only I hadn’t been a freak, if only I could have been normal. Maybe if I had been, we wouldn’t have died.
In the distance, just over on the horizon, I can see the sun starting to rise. I try to lift my arm to shield my eyes from the light, but I am too exhausted. I can hear the birds beginning to sing, chirping away merrily to each other, not a care in the world. It`s almost impossible to believe that once I had been that happy, that optimistic, that…No, I wouldn’t think about those days, they were gone, all of them long gone. All they were memories, memories of a life long forgotten.
Franks pov.
We get off of the bus as fast as we can, almost running to break free of the old, yellow confides of the vehicle. What for I do not now, it was out of one hell and into another. This new hell was known as school. Crowds were forming all over around the building, everyone sticking to their “Groups”
Let me break it down for you. There were the “Preppy, overly happy and sickeningly popular girls” you know, the ones who had fake bleached blonde hair, the stuck up bitches, they were often cheerleaders or involved with something similar. They were obsessed about their appearance and most of the time were complete sluts, and though the word “LOVE” meant legs, open, very easily.
Then there were the “jocks.”The popular, sporty guys, who were utter dickheads, loved themselves almost as much as they did the fake Barbie dolls. There were the “nerds” or the “geeks” the smart kids who you never really saw anywhere apart from the library or classrooms. They got picked on a lot, almost as much as the “emos” ah, onto the “Emos” They were everyone`s favourite kids to pick on. Often keeping to themselves hoping they wouldn’t be noticed they were often picked on for liking certain bands, wearing certain clothes or for being “So super depressed and cutting themselves, like ew.” As quoted from one of the plastic sluts of our school, also known as Ashley.
Me, Bob and Ray, didn`t really fit in with any of these groups in school. Sure, we liked actual music, not the overly computerized shit people class as music these days, but we weren’t overly brainy, we all loathed P.E with a passion and we weren’t interested in getting into all the slut`s pants. We all had better taste than that.
“Hey, man, you never did tell me how your weekend was.” Ray states, but doesn’t push it, as we enter the stuffy, red bricked school.
Ignoring all the other students yelling insults at us, I answer him, hoping it would drown some of them out. “Shitty.” He and Bob nod, giving me sorry, but understanding smiles.
“I had to do my homework as I didn’t want another detention form Mrs. Ferns, my TV broke and I went to church and got the usual glares form everyone there.”
“Bummer.”
“He speaks!” Ray yells, and I have to admit, I was shocked that Bob had actually spoken as well.
He rolled his eyes, a very irritating habit of his. He was just as mature (or immature, whichever way you wanted to look at it) as us.
“So, how was the concert?” I ask, not really wanting to know how amazing it was, but asking out of politeness.
The two of them shrug. “Cool.”
“Good.”
“You are both just saying that so I don`t feel too bad about not being allowed to go, aren`t you?” I already knew the answer.
“Nooooo,” I sigh, Ray had to be the worst liar ever.
“Idiot, we agreed not to mention how awesome it was so Frank didn’t feel too bad!” Bob hits him over the head. I sigh again; it was lonely being the only one with a brain sometimes.
“Okay class.” Our middle aged, greying, balding form tutor barks at us, reminding me of an old spaniel that used to live next to us before we moved.
She welcomes us all into the small room, which stuck of sweat and too much cheep perfume, in an overly cheerful voice, huge fake smile plastered on her face. I had been awake less than an hour and I could already tell this was definitely NOT going to be my week.
xoxodakota
Gerard`s pov.
Ow…Everything hurt. My arms were absolutely covered in deep cuts, scratches as well as being covered in purple and black splotches. I had a killer headache, my head was literally pounding, which meant my vision was `t good at all, making everything blurred and out of focus. Obviously, my back hurt. An angel wasn’t supposed to lose their wings; they especially weren’t supposed to have them cruelly and viciously ripped out. I was lying on the ground, crumpled into a small, bloody heap, waiting for death to come and claim me once more. That is, if I could die again. Can something which has died die again? I doubted it, where would I go? I had already been cast out of heaven, but not before I had been cruelly humiliated and tortured, in front o0f my own little brother, who had done nothing to stop it.
It pained me too much to keep my hazel, damp from crying, eyes open but I hadn’t the strength to shut them either. Even if I did have the strength, I was too afraid to see what horrors my mind would come up with to scare and taunt me with. It had been years now since I had had an unbroken, peaceful night of sleep, even up in heaven my dreams had been haunted. Haunted by their faces, their evil smirks and jeers as they kicked me down to the floor, trampled on my broken body, spat on me, making my life a living hell. It still was, even though my heart no longer beat within my chest and my lungs never filled with air. Even though I wasn’t alive, I was still longing to not exist, to die, even though I already had. And it was them, they had done this to me, it was all their fault. Well, not entirely, I was to blame as well of course. If only I could have fitted in better, if only I hadn’t been a freak, if only I could have been normal. Maybe if I had been, we wouldn’t have died.
In the distance, just over on the horizon, I can see the sun starting to rise. I try to lift my arm to shield my eyes from the light, but I am too exhausted. I can hear the birds beginning to sing, chirping away merrily to each other, not a care in the world. It`s almost impossible to believe that once I had been that happy, that optimistic, that…No, I wouldn’t think about those days, they were gone, all of them long gone. All they were memories, memories of a life long forgotten.
Franks pov.
We get off of the bus as fast as we can, almost running to break free of the old, yellow confides of the vehicle. What for I do not now, it was out of one hell and into another. This new hell was known as school. Crowds were forming all over around the building, everyone sticking to their “Groups”
Let me break it down for you. There were the “Preppy, overly happy and sickeningly popular girls” you know, the ones who had fake bleached blonde hair, the stuck up bitches, they were often cheerleaders or involved with something similar. They were obsessed about their appearance and most of the time were complete sluts, and though the word “LOVE” meant legs, open, very easily.
Then there were the “jocks.”The popular, sporty guys, who were utter dickheads, loved themselves almost as much as they did the fake Barbie dolls. There were the “nerds” or the “geeks” the smart kids who you never really saw anywhere apart from the library or classrooms. They got picked on a lot, almost as much as the “emos” ah, onto the “Emos” They were everyone`s favourite kids to pick on. Often keeping to themselves hoping they wouldn’t be noticed they were often picked on for liking certain bands, wearing certain clothes or for being “So super depressed and cutting themselves, like ew.” As quoted from one of the plastic sluts of our school, also known as Ashley.
Me, Bob and Ray, didn`t really fit in with any of these groups in school. Sure, we liked actual music, not the overly computerized shit people class as music these days, but we weren’t overly brainy, we all loathed P.E with a passion and we weren’t interested in getting into all the slut`s pants. We all had better taste than that.
“Hey, man, you never did tell me how your weekend was.” Ray states, but doesn’t push it, as we enter the stuffy, red bricked school.
Ignoring all the other students yelling insults at us, I answer him, hoping it would drown some of them out. “Shitty.” He and Bob nod, giving me sorry, but understanding smiles.
“I had to do my homework as I didn’t want another detention form Mrs. Ferns, my TV broke and I went to church and got the usual glares form everyone there.”
“Bummer.”
“He speaks!” Ray yells, and I have to admit, I was shocked that Bob had actually spoken as well.
He rolled his eyes, a very irritating habit of his. He was just as mature (or immature, whichever way you wanted to look at it) as us.
“So, how was the concert?” I ask, not really wanting to know how amazing it was, but asking out of politeness.
The two of them shrug. “Cool.”
“Good.”
“You are both just saying that so I don`t feel too bad about not being allowed to go, aren`t you?” I already knew the answer.
“Nooooo,” I sigh, Ray had to be the worst liar ever.
“Idiot, we agreed not to mention how awesome it was so Frank didn’t feel too bad!” Bob hits him over the head. I sigh again; it was lonely being the only one with a brain sometimes.
“Okay class.” Our middle aged, greying, balding form tutor barks at us, reminding me of an old spaniel that used to live next to us before we moved.
She welcomes us all into the small room, which stuck of sweat and too much cheep perfume, in an overly cheerful voice, huge fake smile plastered on her face. I had been awake less than an hour and I could already tell this was definitely NOT going to be my week.
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