Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Living In a World Without You
Gerard’s POV
I laid sweating and trembling in the bright white sheets of my single bed at the Ocean Hills Recovery Center in Los Angeles. Mikey had dropped me off here only 5 days earlier and I was still going through withdrawal from the cocaine and xanax. My thoughts have been going a million miles a minute since the moment I showed up here. No matter how many drugs they gave me, my brain never seemed to settle down.
Thoughts of Frank and our short time at the Hospital constantly bombarded me. Frank had told me he loved me, we kissed and he told me that we were going to be together… Or at least that’s what I concluded from everything that he said to me. But at this point there was no way of knowing; he wouldn’t make eye contact with me after I blatantly admitted that I was hurting myself because of him and he didn’t tell me he loved me back as he was leaving. I always fucked everything up. I had Frank so close to me but with a few simple words I was able to push him away. Maybe he just wanted me to go to this rehab so he could get away from me.
I remember crying after he left, not wanting to see him go. Mikey only comforted me after he had returned from chasing Frank down the hall. He told me everything was going to be okay, but the more people that told me that the more I kept convincing myself that nothing was ever going to be okay. How could everything be okay when I was sweating and puking my brains out in some stupid celebrity rehab in the middle of Los Angeles? How could everything be okay when I felt as if my body was going to give up on me at any moment? Emotionally and physically.
My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden wave of nausea that crashed over me. Luckily I was able to rush to the bathroom in time so I didn’t get the mess anywhere but in the porcelain toilet bowl. My throat and stomach burned. I had been non stop vomiting since I arrived here and it never got any better. The first couple of days I had just puked the food that I had forced myself to eat and now that I didn’t have the energy to let anything pass my lips expect a few sips of water, I have been puking blood. The walls of my stomach giving away and being torn to shreds by the acid that occupied it.
I lost all control of my arms that had been holding me up to spill my stomach into the bowl and I fell on the floor, hitting my head hard against the cream colored tiles of the bathroom floor in the process. Even if I had had the strength to pick myself up and go back to the bedroom, I wouldn’t have. The cold tiled felt good against my back and relaxed me, soothed me as the hot flashes made my skin crawl. The spinning room around me was beginning to slow down to a stop as I felt myself drift off to a hell ridden sleep.
*
Bert had pushed me into a dressing room backstage after my band preformed. I was sweaty and tired but that didn’t stop Bert, nothing ever stopped him. He locked the door behind us as he pushed me against the wall and kissed me forcefully. The show was short and I was still on a high from the drugs I had done before with Bert, my heart was beating fast.
“God I want you so fucking bad.” Bert growled, turning his attention towards my neck. Nipping and biting at all my exposed skin. He walked me over to the ledge of the makeup counter and pushed my waist up on in, hurriedly unbuttoning my jeans. I cooperated with everything he told me to do and everywhere he placed my body. I didn’t care what he did to me I just wanted to feel him in me.
He pushed my pants down to my ankles and my underwear as well soon after. He kissed the back of my neck as I dropped my head down waiting for him to start. But his actions were interrupted, “Hey… This could be fun” He smirked as he reached for the microphone that was sitting on the counter. He eyes looked to mine for approval and I merely nodded.
I knew what he was going to do with that microphone, but I honestly didn’t care. I was too high to feel any pain at this point anyways. He could do whatever he wanted to me. I heard him spitting on his new device to lubricate it and I just spread my legs slightly, waiting for him to push it inside of me.
His wrapped his free arm around my waist and pressed himself against me. I could feel its cold metallic tip teasing me at my entrance. “Go.” I said, so he knew that I was ready. He pushed it in and I moaned in distaste.
It didn’t feel good; if anything it felt uncomfortable. It was hard and rough, but Bert only pushed it in deeper. I waited for him to be done with his act of torture which I only thought would last a few minutes. He continued to fuck me with the microphone, now using more force than before, plunging deeper and deeper into my body. “Stop” I managed to croak out, but of coarse he didn’t listen. It was beginning to hurt and as looked down, I saw blood running down the insides of my legs.
I knew Bert saw the blood, but he still didn’t stop. It just provoked him to do it harder. I clenched my eyes shut and bit back the sobs that were forming in my throat. ‘He’s almost done’ I told myself, hoping it would be true.
The sound of a woman’s voice on the intercom of the rehab woke me up from my horrid flashback of a dream. I had been having a lot of these since being here, every time I fell asleep it was like going back in time to these past few months when my life had been at its worst with Bert.
Used to it by now, I shook the thoughts of my nightmare out of my head and managed to scrape myself off of the bathroom floor and cleaned myself up to the point of being somewhat presentable. I walked out into the hallway of the rehab. Baby blue colored walls and bright light overhead surrounded me as I made my way down to my personal therapist’s office. His name was Joseph and I had had to meet with him ever since arriving here. I was supposed to tell him everything about my personal life and why I had started using in the first place so we could create a way for me to get better from my “disease”.
I told him everything that happened to me within the past few months, unfortunately having to include everything I did with Bert. I noticed that Joseph would always shift in his seat whenever I spoke of Frank or Bert, growing more uncomfortable by the second. I felt bad that he had to hear these disgusting things I did on my free time.
“Hello Gerard, did you sleep well?” He asked with an unusual perkiness.
I told then had to tell him that although I slept through the night, I still had nightmares. Then having to continue by explaining everything that happened in my nightmare. My face turned red with embarrassment and he once again shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
I went about my usual day in this temporary hell hole. I ate my meals with all the other addicts, sitting off to a table by myself, almost like High School all over again. I went to the group meetings and spoke about more embarrassing things about myself. I got a lot of disgusted looks in these group meetings every time I talked about my life, so I eventually figured I should just shut the fuck up before someone jumped me.
I told my daily medication, some numbing pills that helped with my withdrawal and interferon. This is a drug that I had to take for a few weeks to cure the Hepatitis B… God, I feel so disgusting for having contracted this from Bert. How could he do this to me? How could he-
“Gerard Way; phone call” a woman called out as I was walking past the reception office.
I walked in and took the phone from her hand, sitting down in a chair and making myself comfortable. Mikey usually called me once a day to check up on me and his calls lasted long.
“Hello?” I said.
“Hey…” The voice that spoke wasn’t Mikey, but the voice of the person I had been craving to talk to since my day in the hospital.
“Oh god Frank, it’s so good to hear your voice again. How are you?” I asked him, struggling to keep hold back my tears of joy.
“I'm fine. But the more important question is how you are doing. Are you okay?” His voiced cracked on his last words.
“I'm fine now that I'm talking to you.” I could practically hear him smile through the phone as I said this.
“Good… I can’t wait to see you.”
“You’re not still mad at me for what I said… about, you know… you being the reason that I drink?” I asked, half afraid that he would remember and hang up.
“No, I felt I knew all along. You should be the one mad at me for not trying to stop you.”
At this point I couldn’t find the energy to say any words back to him. My medication had kicked in and I had slowly been starting to slip out of the chair and fall onto the floor, drowsiness taking over me and my eyelids becoming heavy. I saw black… Fuck.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yeah this chapter kinda sucks, didnt really know where to go with it. Lol
Comment and rate!
http://twitter.com/nikki_killjoy
I laid sweating and trembling in the bright white sheets of my single bed at the Ocean Hills Recovery Center in Los Angeles. Mikey had dropped me off here only 5 days earlier and I was still going through withdrawal from the cocaine and xanax. My thoughts have been going a million miles a minute since the moment I showed up here. No matter how many drugs they gave me, my brain never seemed to settle down.
Thoughts of Frank and our short time at the Hospital constantly bombarded me. Frank had told me he loved me, we kissed and he told me that we were going to be together… Or at least that’s what I concluded from everything that he said to me. But at this point there was no way of knowing; he wouldn’t make eye contact with me after I blatantly admitted that I was hurting myself because of him and he didn’t tell me he loved me back as he was leaving. I always fucked everything up. I had Frank so close to me but with a few simple words I was able to push him away. Maybe he just wanted me to go to this rehab so he could get away from me.
I remember crying after he left, not wanting to see him go. Mikey only comforted me after he had returned from chasing Frank down the hall. He told me everything was going to be okay, but the more people that told me that the more I kept convincing myself that nothing was ever going to be okay. How could everything be okay when I was sweating and puking my brains out in some stupid celebrity rehab in the middle of Los Angeles? How could everything be okay when I felt as if my body was going to give up on me at any moment? Emotionally and physically.
My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden wave of nausea that crashed over me. Luckily I was able to rush to the bathroom in time so I didn’t get the mess anywhere but in the porcelain toilet bowl. My throat and stomach burned. I had been non stop vomiting since I arrived here and it never got any better. The first couple of days I had just puked the food that I had forced myself to eat and now that I didn’t have the energy to let anything pass my lips expect a few sips of water, I have been puking blood. The walls of my stomach giving away and being torn to shreds by the acid that occupied it.
I lost all control of my arms that had been holding me up to spill my stomach into the bowl and I fell on the floor, hitting my head hard against the cream colored tiles of the bathroom floor in the process. Even if I had had the strength to pick myself up and go back to the bedroom, I wouldn’t have. The cold tiled felt good against my back and relaxed me, soothed me as the hot flashes made my skin crawl. The spinning room around me was beginning to slow down to a stop as I felt myself drift off to a hell ridden sleep.
*
Bert had pushed me into a dressing room backstage after my band preformed. I was sweaty and tired but that didn’t stop Bert, nothing ever stopped him. He locked the door behind us as he pushed me against the wall and kissed me forcefully. The show was short and I was still on a high from the drugs I had done before with Bert, my heart was beating fast.
“God I want you so fucking bad.” Bert growled, turning his attention towards my neck. Nipping and biting at all my exposed skin. He walked me over to the ledge of the makeup counter and pushed my waist up on in, hurriedly unbuttoning my jeans. I cooperated with everything he told me to do and everywhere he placed my body. I didn’t care what he did to me I just wanted to feel him in me.
He pushed my pants down to my ankles and my underwear as well soon after. He kissed the back of my neck as I dropped my head down waiting for him to start. But his actions were interrupted, “Hey… This could be fun” He smirked as he reached for the microphone that was sitting on the counter. He eyes looked to mine for approval and I merely nodded.
I knew what he was going to do with that microphone, but I honestly didn’t care. I was too high to feel any pain at this point anyways. He could do whatever he wanted to me. I heard him spitting on his new device to lubricate it and I just spread my legs slightly, waiting for him to push it inside of me.
His wrapped his free arm around my waist and pressed himself against me. I could feel its cold metallic tip teasing me at my entrance. “Go.” I said, so he knew that I was ready. He pushed it in and I moaned in distaste.
It didn’t feel good; if anything it felt uncomfortable. It was hard and rough, but Bert only pushed it in deeper. I waited for him to be done with his act of torture which I only thought would last a few minutes. He continued to fuck me with the microphone, now using more force than before, plunging deeper and deeper into my body. “Stop” I managed to croak out, but of coarse he didn’t listen. It was beginning to hurt and as looked down, I saw blood running down the insides of my legs.
I knew Bert saw the blood, but he still didn’t stop. It just provoked him to do it harder. I clenched my eyes shut and bit back the sobs that were forming in my throat. ‘He’s almost done’ I told myself, hoping it would be true.
The sound of a woman’s voice on the intercom of the rehab woke me up from my horrid flashback of a dream. I had been having a lot of these since being here, every time I fell asleep it was like going back in time to these past few months when my life had been at its worst with Bert.
Used to it by now, I shook the thoughts of my nightmare out of my head and managed to scrape myself off of the bathroom floor and cleaned myself up to the point of being somewhat presentable. I walked out into the hallway of the rehab. Baby blue colored walls and bright light overhead surrounded me as I made my way down to my personal therapist’s office. His name was Joseph and I had had to meet with him ever since arriving here. I was supposed to tell him everything about my personal life and why I had started using in the first place so we could create a way for me to get better from my “disease”.
I told him everything that happened to me within the past few months, unfortunately having to include everything I did with Bert. I noticed that Joseph would always shift in his seat whenever I spoke of Frank or Bert, growing more uncomfortable by the second. I felt bad that he had to hear these disgusting things I did on my free time.
“Hello Gerard, did you sleep well?” He asked with an unusual perkiness.
I told then had to tell him that although I slept through the night, I still had nightmares. Then having to continue by explaining everything that happened in my nightmare. My face turned red with embarrassment and he once again shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
I went about my usual day in this temporary hell hole. I ate my meals with all the other addicts, sitting off to a table by myself, almost like High School all over again. I went to the group meetings and spoke about more embarrassing things about myself. I got a lot of disgusted looks in these group meetings every time I talked about my life, so I eventually figured I should just shut the fuck up before someone jumped me.
I told my daily medication, some numbing pills that helped with my withdrawal and interferon. This is a drug that I had to take for a few weeks to cure the Hepatitis B… God, I feel so disgusting for having contracted this from Bert. How could he do this to me? How could he-
“Gerard Way; phone call” a woman called out as I was walking past the reception office.
I walked in and took the phone from her hand, sitting down in a chair and making myself comfortable. Mikey usually called me once a day to check up on me and his calls lasted long.
“Hello?” I said.
“Hey…” The voice that spoke wasn’t Mikey, but the voice of the person I had been craving to talk to since my day in the hospital.
“Oh god Frank, it’s so good to hear your voice again. How are you?” I asked him, struggling to keep hold back my tears of joy.
“I'm fine. But the more important question is how you are doing. Are you okay?” His voiced cracked on his last words.
“I'm fine now that I'm talking to you.” I could practically hear him smile through the phone as I said this.
“Good… I can’t wait to see you.”
“You’re not still mad at me for what I said… about, you know… you being the reason that I drink?” I asked, half afraid that he would remember and hang up.
“No, I felt I knew all along. You should be the one mad at me for not trying to stop you.”
At this point I couldn’t find the energy to say any words back to him. My medication had kicked in and I had slowly been starting to slip out of the chair and fall onto the floor, drowsiness taking over me and my eyelids becoming heavy. I saw black… Fuck.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yeah this chapter kinda sucks, didnt really know where to go with it. Lol
Comment and rate!
http://twitter.com/nikki_killjoy
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