Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The hardest ones to love, are the ones that need it most...
I was still lying here; curled up tight into a ball, head in hands, knees wrapped around my aching body. How could he do this to me?
I hadn`t moved since last night. I was still lying here; curled up tight into a ball, head in hands, knees wrapped around my aching body. How could he do this to me? My usually wide, warm chocolate eyes were bruised, surrounded by dark circles and puffy red rings. I hurt too much to move from this position; it hurt to even breathe, to think. But of course the terrible thoughts never left me, they were there constantly gnawing away at my brain which was still fighting desperately to forget the whole awful incident. Trying and failing. My chest ached; blue, black and purple splodges were partially obscured by crimson stains. Blood-my blood. More tears slide down my swollen check, staining it even more than it already was. My usually soft dark hair hangs limply, covering my eyes, greasy and dishevelled. I didn’t care, I couldn’t bring myself to care, nothing else mattered anymore, not after what he had done. Not after what he had done to me, what he had put me through. And he told me that he loved me. Yeah right. I was a fool, an idiot for ever believing him.
“Gerard! Where the hell were you last-“
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I scream at my younger, innocent brother Mikey. His eyes grow wide with shock and possibly fear. This hurt me, my own little brother feared me? No, impossible.
“My head kills.” I mutter, kicking my scuffed converse off and into the corner of the room. I had the biggest fucking hangover I can ever remember having. And that was saying something. I couldn’t even remember what had happened last night, let alone where I had been and more importantly who I had been with.
“Fuck…” I wince as Mikey closed the door behind me, something I had forgotten to do on entering the house I shared with him. (I`m sad, I live with my younger brother. I have no life. I know)
“Sorry.” He tries to force a smile but it seems less convincing than usual.
I grunt a response, searching the room for some painkillers and something to wash them down with. Preferably something alcoholic, anything alcoholic, I wasn’t fussy. As long as it was strong and would make me forget, I would drink it.
“Gerard. No.” Mikey reaches towards me, though it is unclear to me whether he is trying to take the drink or the pills off of me.
“Where did you get these?” he roughly pulls back the ripped and bloody sleeve of my Misfits hoodie, nails scratching the already broken and bleeding skin, eyes full of shock and disbelief.
“Where did you g them from?” he asks again, the authority and power in his voice shocking my, where had my quiet little brother gone? I was the eldest, I was the one who gave the orders `round here.
“I don`t know.” I tell him honestly, taking a swig form the bottle of cheep booze, downing the two painkillers in one gulp.
“Will you just stop it already!?” Mikey screams and lunges towards me, knocking the booze out of my hands. I watch angrily as it smashes into tiny little shards on the kitchen tiles.
“What the fuck did ya do that for!?” I demand an answer from him, shoving his small body against the kitchen counter, not caring if I hurt him, just needing to know what had possessed him to do that.
“I just….you need to stop…ruining you life…” he sobs, breaking down in front of me, crying his little eyes out. I scoff, he was not a child anymore, he needed to grow the fuck up.
Watching my younger brother, my second best friend in the entire world break down crying in front of me, reminds me of something, something I had tried to force my brain to erase form my clouded memories. Something to do with my best friend….
I want to die. This wasn’t the first time this horrid thought had entered my brain since he had….i shudder, I couldn’t think about that, I wouldn’t. It hadn’t happened. It had. I try to pull myself up off of the bed, but my weak little arms collapse under my weight. It was pathetic, I was pathetic. I break down crying again, loud heartbreaking sobs escaped my bloody and bruised lips. My entire being craves some form of ending to this suffering, yet at the same time it also craves something else. Something it shouldn’t, and it scares me. It frightens me almost as much as…he did…
Flashback the previous night.
This was it. I smile running back to my one bed rented house. I say run, but it was more of a skip really, I was just that happy. I hadn’t been this happy for months, today was the day, today I was going to tell him. My grin grows even broader as I push open the gate and see him standing t here. By “him” of course I mean Gerard Way, my best friend and my crush. i had never had the guts to tell him how I felt, but ever since last week when he told me that he had dumped his boyfriend and was going to get help staying sober, nothing had the power to annoy me or upset me. Today was the day I was going to tell him how I felt, that I loved him. It would be just like a dream come true, a fairy tale.
“Hey Frankie.” Gee-my nickname for him, slurs out, pulling me in for a big hug. This was normal for us, but maybe after today it would mean something more.
“Hey, Gee.” I smile, trying to take my mind off of the army of butterflies currently attacking my stomach.
“Frankie…” He slurs again and this time I notice the bottle in one of his pale hands. I frown and look up at my best friend disapprovingly. He knew how I felt about him drinking, and the drugs, he knew how much it hurt me to see him like this. Plus, it was only last week he had promised to get help, the Gee I knew was stronger than that, why had he given up already?
“Gee, you promised-“
“I know I fucking promised!” He yells, scaring me. “Sorry.” He sighs; walking over to the trash can in the garden and dumping the already empty bottle.
I grab my keys from my pocket and unlock the door, inviting him in, prepared to finally tell him how I felt. If I had known what was about to happen, I never would have...
“Gerard! Please, don`t!” I plead with him, kicking him and trying desperately to push him away, but to no avail. He was so much stronger than me; he was taller and older than me too. And he was completely pissed; he didn’t have a clue what he was doing.
“What`s the matter Frankie?” He slurs, pressing a sloppy kiss to my exposed neck, casing me to shiver. I hated how he was doing this to me; I didn’t want this, not yet. Why couldn’t he back off, why didn’t he understand that I wasn’t ready, that he was scaring me?
“I thought you loved me Frankie?” that wasn’t fair! He knew I did, he told me he felt the same, so why was he doing this?
“GET OFF ME!” I scream as he unbuttons my shirt, my screams muffled as he pulls me in for a harsh, unwanted kiss.
“No Frankie, you love me, remember?” I begin to cry, tears slipping down my face, finally realising what he was going to do, knowing that I had no way to fight him off. The love of my life, the man who said he loved me, was going to…rape me.
“Frank!” I pound on his door, demanding to be let in. I didn’t care right now that I had a killer headache, or that my hair was a state or that I was still dressed in yesterday clothes. I just need in. I need him to tell me that it wasn’t true, that I hadn’t…hurt him.
“Please!” I begin crying, damning the tears, hating feeling weak. I get a half interested stare, half glare from an old woman walking past, but barely notice her. All that I cared about right now was my Frankie; I need to know what had happened what...i had done. The tears are heavier now, I can barely see partly due to my hair and partly due to the tears.
“Let me in!”
I hated him. I had opened up to him, made myself vulnerable and this is what he does. How dare he say he love me!? my fist clench, I was not a violent person but right now I just need to feel my fist collide with something, preferably that bastard`s face. I sigh. Despite what he had done, the pain and betrayal I felt because of him, I didn’t want that. I hated him, I hated him so fucking much, but I hated myself as well. I wasn’t supposed to still feel like this, I wasn’t supposed to still…
“Frankie, please!” it was him. I didn’t want to ever see his stupid face again, unless it was behind bars.
You don’t mean that
Sigh. I didn’t, how could I? Despite what he had done, he had been my best friend for years. I…I guess you could say that I still…I still…cared.
No, I didn’t love him, I never could after that. I guess I just…felt sorry for him, he was destroying himself, destroying his life and in the end he would only hurt himself and those who cared about him. Gerard was in his only little bleak world of booze and drugs, but we, his friends and brother were suffering with him. I remember the feeling of joy I had last week when he had told me he was staying sober, the pride I had felt. The disappointment when he didn’t keep to it. I had wanted to save him. I still did.
That’s why I opened the door.