Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Not A House But A Tomb
5 reviewsA kidnapped, preying on teenage boys, is loose on the streets. (CONTAINS THEMES OF KIDNAP, RAPE, UNDERAGE SEX AND HOMOSEXUALITY)
0Unrated
Gerard's POV:
I shuddered as I hugged myself against the cold of the night.
Run to the store for me, Gee, we're out of milk. It's not that cold, and it'll only take you five minutes... Yeah right. I was stuck in line behind an old man who insisted on telling the cashier his life story, and counting out his change so it was exactly right. And as for it being not that cold... it felt like I was in the fucking arctic or something. I made a mental note to not speak to my mom for the next week as payback.
Okay, I know at seventeen, that's a little childish. But so what? It's not like I had anything better to do. Hang out with my friends? I didn't have any. Never had, really. I'd always been pushed out and ignored, right from when I was a kid. My best and only friend was my little brother Mikey, but he had a sparkling social life that he didn't really want me to get involved in; he never actually said that, but I could tell he didn't.
I shoved my iPod headphones in and let the beautiful sound of my music wash over me. That was one of the only things I actually even cared about; music. Along with art, it was my favourite thing to spend time on. I sang, though not in front of people, but I couldn't play an instrument to save my life. Mikey did; he was kick-ass on bass. Seriously, he was amazing. He was fourteen, and already he could top some famous an well-known bassists. I was jealous of Mikey sometimes; his carefree, happy-go-lucky attitude, his ability to make friends without even trying, his gentlemanly charm and boyish good looks. It wasn't fair; Mikey got fucking everything.
I was nothing compared to him: I was a friendless seventeen year old, still living in his Mom and Dad's basement, who spent most of his nights drinking and sketching images that were Gothic and, admittedly, slightly disturbing at times. I sighed and plunged my hands into my pockets. My God, I really was pathetic, wasn't I?
I was so lost in my train of thought, that I didn't realise a car, very close to the curb, had been following me since about three streets away. I also didn't realise when it stopped and a man climbed out and walked about two paces behind me. In fact, until he grabbed me from behind, I didn't know he was there at all.
"What the fu..." My yell was cut off by a rag being pressed forcefully over my nose and mouth. I struggled for a while, but eventually, my body started to give in to the effects of the chloroform.
I shuddered as I hugged myself against the cold of the night.
Run to the store for me, Gee, we're out of milk. It's not that cold, and it'll only take you five minutes... Yeah right. I was stuck in line behind an old man who insisted on telling the cashier his life story, and counting out his change so it was exactly right. And as for it being not that cold... it felt like I was in the fucking arctic or something. I made a mental note to not speak to my mom for the next week as payback.
Okay, I know at seventeen, that's a little childish. But so what? It's not like I had anything better to do. Hang out with my friends? I didn't have any. Never had, really. I'd always been pushed out and ignored, right from when I was a kid. My best and only friend was my little brother Mikey, but he had a sparkling social life that he didn't really want me to get involved in; he never actually said that, but I could tell he didn't.
I shoved my iPod headphones in and let the beautiful sound of my music wash over me. That was one of the only things I actually even cared about; music. Along with art, it was my favourite thing to spend time on. I sang, though not in front of people, but I couldn't play an instrument to save my life. Mikey did; he was kick-ass on bass. Seriously, he was amazing. He was fourteen, and already he could top some famous an well-known bassists. I was jealous of Mikey sometimes; his carefree, happy-go-lucky attitude, his ability to make friends without even trying, his gentlemanly charm and boyish good looks. It wasn't fair; Mikey got fucking everything.
I was nothing compared to him: I was a friendless seventeen year old, still living in his Mom and Dad's basement, who spent most of his nights drinking and sketching images that were Gothic and, admittedly, slightly disturbing at times. I sighed and plunged my hands into my pockets. My God, I really was pathetic, wasn't I?
I was so lost in my train of thought, that I didn't realise a car, very close to the curb, had been following me since about three streets away. I also didn't realise when it stopped and a man climbed out and walked about two paces behind me. In fact, until he grabbed me from behind, I didn't know he was there at all.
"What the fu..." My yell was cut off by a rag being pressed forcefully over my nose and mouth. I struggled for a while, but eventually, my body started to give in to the effects of the chloroform.
Sign up to rate and review this story