Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Guilty... Until Proven Innocent.
Mmmkay, since it's my man's birthday, I thought this story above my others deserved to be updated today. Enjoy :)
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Mikey's Point of View...
Night 1
I laid there, in my bunk, staring up at the bottom of Pete's bunk, my eyes focused so hard in my mind the bunk simply fell apart. Ever since Ray visited this morning, I haven't felt the same. I was feeling different- I was afraid.
Which is good, in a way. I'm starting to feel like myself again. I think I have a reason to be scared- I'm in a state prison with guys who have hidden weapons the guards are too oblivious to find, and my life is almost a person on a balance beam- if I'm found guilty I'll be knocked off, but if Ray can pull through-
"You alright, man?" Pete asked. This section of the prison was particularly noisy. Arguments, complaints about the 1:00 A.M. "lights out" bed time, and generally sounds of anger filled the area, making things too real for me: I'm in a prison- and my life or death is 50/50.
"I think so."
"You've just been so quiet since that guy came to talk to you this morning."
"And you've been high since the cop busted you for attempting to have sex with your boyfriend in your room."
Pete giggled like a school girl. "Hey, it starts to get really lonely-"
"No offense, but if this is starting to lead into a story about you masturbating-"
Pete laughed shortly. "No. But I'm trying to say that I'm here if you need to talk."
I said nothing to him for several minutes, letting the thought sink in. Pete reminded me of Gerard.
And for some reason, I didn't push the thought of my dead older brother away. And I felt at ease.
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Ray's Point of View...
My breathing hitched a little as my car pulled up to the curb outside the Way residence. Or, what used to be the way residence.
Of all the years I've known the Way's, and the countless number of times I've been to their house, the place never seemed so lifeless. Not in High School, when Gerard was a heavilly alocholic drug-influenced mess, not through the long agonizing process of him becoming clean and sober, not even when his parents died, who were like my second parents. If the house could speak metaphorically, the yellow "Caution" tape would clearly say "Stay away". If the house could speak physically, the house would say "What's done is done."
I opened the door, grabbing my keys, and climbed out. Feeling the hairs rise on the back, I looked down one side of the street then the other, just to make sure no one would see me. It was well past midnight, but that's New Jersey's prime time.
I walked up to the gate, using a key I had to unlock it. I shut the gate behind me, ignoring the yellow caution tape, breaking at least 5 laws with the simple action. When one of the last people on this earth that you care for more than yourself is in trouble, you'd do anything for them.
When I unlocked the front door, I wasn't surprised to see the crime scene inside hadn't been cleaned up yet. It smelled like dried blood, and the smell made me instantly sick to my stomach.
I searched around the house for this "journal" for an hour. As soon as I was beginning to doubt Mikey's thought, or simply accept that the police had already found it, an idea hit me: Gerard's bedroom.
I locked the front door behind me, and returned outside. I stepped down the stairs leading to Gerard's room carefully, almost thinking that Gerard would suddenly open the door and scare the living daylights out of me (as he'd done countless times before), or that I'd find him in his room jamming away to some music painting a picture with nothing but black and red paint, before laughing at myself and realizing it'd never happen again.
There was a note attached to the door that read, "Call Locksmith to get key; door won't even budge."
I lifted up my keys, searching for the right one, and gracefully held the key up, almost presenting it to the door. "Like this one?" I muttered. I unlocked the door and shut it behind me.
The room was averagely neat- for Gerard's room, at least. I had a gut feeling Frank got on him a lot about keeping the room neat.
I remember how Mikey and Gerard used to share this room. But when the 'rents died, Mikey moved upstairs, and Frank moved in to the room in his place.
(Flashback) (3rd person point of view...)
Ray banged on the door. Suddenly, the door opened. Expecting Gerard, he was shocked to find Mikey, looking terrified.
"Ray!" he exclaimed, embracing Ray in a hug. "Thank goodness you're here. Mom and Dad left, and locked the upstairs. I lost my key, and Frank and Gerard are getting....intimate, despite my protests. And it's freezing out here," he chattered, his breath showing and he tried to hug himself.
"Well, why don't we go look for that new Misfits CD that came out last week and leave them alone?" Ray asked, holding up his car keys. He loved being able to drive, since he bought himself a car a month ago. And Mikey certainly wasn't complaining about the free rides.
"You're a life saver." Mikey smiled, quickly going back inside momentarily to inform Gerard where he was going. He returned with his jacket. "Let's go," he smiled, shutting the door.
(Back to Present, Ray's Point of view...)
Thinking about the ironic statement Mikey had made all those years ago about him being a lifesaver, my heart sank thinking of how true that was about to get. I'm going to save his life- or I'll die trying.
Something caught my eye. On top of Gerard's bed's comforter (which was neatly placed on top of the bed, the pillows fixed as well) was a black composition notebook, lying open, a pen beside it.
I heard noises coming from outside, and looked though the small window to see the cops had come for a late-night review of the crime scene. And they were probably surprised to see my car.
I snatched the book closed, and grabbed the pen. I was about to make a dart for it when some photos caught my eye on the far side of the room.
There'd been a struggle. In this very room, something very bad had gone down, despite the normal first glance. On the other side of the room, on the other side of the bed, which I had not seen when I'd entered, were Gerard's works- torn, shredded and thrown about. In the middle of the destruction of my best friend's imagination, was a broken, shattered photo framed, which hosted a picture Gerard and Frank, which I realized was from their 5th anniversary, at the party Mikey and I had thrown for them.
I had no time to feel any emotion yet, so I carefully removed the picture from the frame and put it in the safety of between the notebook pages. On the wall were all of the Way's family photos- several looking as if they'd taken a beating themselves. Especially the one of Gerard and Mikey as toddlers.
If Mikey wanted one thing from his house, I knew that photo would be it. I carefully removed that photo from it's frame as well, and joined it with the first one, before exiting the room, and darting through the night to my car.
....................
In the safety of my car, once I'd had been driving what seemed like ages, in no general direction, I found myself heading towards the City. I found an empty parking lot, and took refuge there. I carefully opened the journal to the first page.
"From the mind of Frank Iero..." was the title.
"December 25th, 2010,
This Christmas wasn't all I'd imagined it to be. Gee and I fought again. The worst part is that when Ray and Mikey came over, we acted as if everything was normal. The sad thruth is that we'd been pretending in front of them for a very long time. The last time I felt happy, safe, and content with Gerard is too long ago to recall to my mind right now. I feel awful lying to them- they're family- but it's better if they don't know the things I know- what Gerard knows. Gee doesn't know, but I know he's up to something. I think it's the drugs again, but whenever I try to talk to him, we end up arguing. I can't tell Ray and Mikey yet- they have there own lives and shouldn't be bothered with my troubles. Besides, it's my problem to solve- I love Gerard, deep down inside I know I'll always love him, so it's up to me to help him. But he doesn't seem to want help."
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Don't you hate it when you type something, thinking it's really long, and you're upset to find it's a lot shorter than you thought? I promise to update soon though. It's about to start getting crazy.
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Mikey's Point of View...
Night 1
I laid there, in my bunk, staring up at the bottom of Pete's bunk, my eyes focused so hard in my mind the bunk simply fell apart. Ever since Ray visited this morning, I haven't felt the same. I was feeling different- I was afraid.
Which is good, in a way. I'm starting to feel like myself again. I think I have a reason to be scared- I'm in a state prison with guys who have hidden weapons the guards are too oblivious to find, and my life is almost a person on a balance beam- if I'm found guilty I'll be knocked off, but if Ray can pull through-
"You alright, man?" Pete asked. This section of the prison was particularly noisy. Arguments, complaints about the 1:00 A.M. "lights out" bed time, and generally sounds of anger filled the area, making things too real for me: I'm in a prison- and my life or death is 50/50.
"I think so."
"You've just been so quiet since that guy came to talk to you this morning."
"And you've been high since the cop busted you for attempting to have sex with your boyfriend in your room."
Pete giggled like a school girl. "Hey, it starts to get really lonely-"
"No offense, but if this is starting to lead into a story about you masturbating-"
Pete laughed shortly. "No. But I'm trying to say that I'm here if you need to talk."
I said nothing to him for several minutes, letting the thought sink in. Pete reminded me of Gerard.
And for some reason, I didn't push the thought of my dead older brother away. And I felt at ease.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ray's Point of View...
My breathing hitched a little as my car pulled up to the curb outside the Way residence. Or, what used to be the way residence.
Of all the years I've known the Way's, and the countless number of times I've been to their house, the place never seemed so lifeless. Not in High School, when Gerard was a heavilly alocholic drug-influenced mess, not through the long agonizing process of him becoming clean and sober, not even when his parents died, who were like my second parents. If the house could speak metaphorically, the yellow "Caution" tape would clearly say "Stay away". If the house could speak physically, the house would say "What's done is done."
I opened the door, grabbing my keys, and climbed out. Feeling the hairs rise on the back, I looked down one side of the street then the other, just to make sure no one would see me. It was well past midnight, but that's New Jersey's prime time.
I walked up to the gate, using a key I had to unlock it. I shut the gate behind me, ignoring the yellow caution tape, breaking at least 5 laws with the simple action. When one of the last people on this earth that you care for more than yourself is in trouble, you'd do anything for them.
When I unlocked the front door, I wasn't surprised to see the crime scene inside hadn't been cleaned up yet. It smelled like dried blood, and the smell made me instantly sick to my stomach.
I searched around the house for this "journal" for an hour. As soon as I was beginning to doubt Mikey's thought, or simply accept that the police had already found it, an idea hit me: Gerard's bedroom.
I locked the front door behind me, and returned outside. I stepped down the stairs leading to Gerard's room carefully, almost thinking that Gerard would suddenly open the door and scare the living daylights out of me (as he'd done countless times before), or that I'd find him in his room jamming away to some music painting a picture with nothing but black and red paint, before laughing at myself and realizing it'd never happen again.
There was a note attached to the door that read, "Call Locksmith to get key; door won't even budge."
I lifted up my keys, searching for the right one, and gracefully held the key up, almost presenting it to the door. "Like this one?" I muttered. I unlocked the door and shut it behind me.
The room was averagely neat- for Gerard's room, at least. I had a gut feeling Frank got on him a lot about keeping the room neat.
I remember how Mikey and Gerard used to share this room. But when the 'rents died, Mikey moved upstairs, and Frank moved in to the room in his place.
(Flashback) (3rd person point of view...)
Ray banged on the door. Suddenly, the door opened. Expecting Gerard, he was shocked to find Mikey, looking terrified.
"Ray!" he exclaimed, embracing Ray in a hug. "Thank goodness you're here. Mom and Dad left, and locked the upstairs. I lost my key, and Frank and Gerard are getting....intimate, despite my protests. And it's freezing out here," he chattered, his breath showing and he tried to hug himself.
"Well, why don't we go look for that new Misfits CD that came out last week and leave them alone?" Ray asked, holding up his car keys. He loved being able to drive, since he bought himself a car a month ago. And Mikey certainly wasn't complaining about the free rides.
"You're a life saver." Mikey smiled, quickly going back inside momentarily to inform Gerard where he was going. He returned with his jacket. "Let's go," he smiled, shutting the door.
(Back to Present, Ray's Point of view...)
Thinking about the ironic statement Mikey had made all those years ago about him being a lifesaver, my heart sank thinking of how true that was about to get. I'm going to save his life- or I'll die trying.
Something caught my eye. On top of Gerard's bed's comforter (which was neatly placed on top of the bed, the pillows fixed as well) was a black composition notebook, lying open, a pen beside it.
I heard noises coming from outside, and looked though the small window to see the cops had come for a late-night review of the crime scene. And they were probably surprised to see my car.
I snatched the book closed, and grabbed the pen. I was about to make a dart for it when some photos caught my eye on the far side of the room.
There'd been a struggle. In this very room, something very bad had gone down, despite the normal first glance. On the other side of the room, on the other side of the bed, which I had not seen when I'd entered, were Gerard's works- torn, shredded and thrown about. In the middle of the destruction of my best friend's imagination, was a broken, shattered photo framed, which hosted a picture Gerard and Frank, which I realized was from their 5th anniversary, at the party Mikey and I had thrown for them.
I had no time to feel any emotion yet, so I carefully removed the picture from the frame and put it in the safety of between the notebook pages. On the wall were all of the Way's family photos- several looking as if they'd taken a beating themselves. Especially the one of Gerard and Mikey as toddlers.
If Mikey wanted one thing from his house, I knew that photo would be it. I carefully removed that photo from it's frame as well, and joined it with the first one, before exiting the room, and darting through the night to my car.
....................
In the safety of my car, once I'd had been driving what seemed like ages, in no general direction, I found myself heading towards the City. I found an empty parking lot, and took refuge there. I carefully opened the journal to the first page.
"From the mind of Frank Iero..." was the title.
"December 25th, 2010,
This Christmas wasn't all I'd imagined it to be. Gee and I fought again. The worst part is that when Ray and Mikey came over, we acted as if everything was normal. The sad thruth is that we'd been pretending in front of them for a very long time. The last time I felt happy, safe, and content with Gerard is too long ago to recall to my mind right now. I feel awful lying to them- they're family- but it's better if they don't know the things I know- what Gerard knows. Gee doesn't know, but I know he's up to something. I think it's the drugs again, but whenever I try to talk to him, we end up arguing. I can't tell Ray and Mikey yet- they have there own lives and shouldn't be bothered with my troubles. Besides, it's my problem to solve- I love Gerard, deep down inside I know I'll always love him, so it's up to me to help him. But he doesn't seem to want help."
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Don't you hate it when you type something, thinking it's really long, and you're upset to find it's a lot shorter than you thought? I promise to update soon though. It's about to start getting crazy.
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