Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Famous Last Words
By now I was getting good at pretending, or at least that’s what I was telling myself. In my mind I was handling it well. What I was actually doing was telling myself I was imagining it all, that it wasn’t really happening. That way I could pretend it wasn’t bothering me. Yes, that’s what I was doing. I was giving an outward impression that I could handle it all and I was brave. That none of this was touching me and I was just getting on with everything. Yeah, that’s what I was telling myself. It’s amazing what you can convince yourself of, even if you don’t actually believe it. Truth was, I didn’t believe it and no one else was going to either. But by now it was as if there were two of me and the me that wanted to believe that everything was okay was managing to override the other me that was falling apart. I kept the other me, the scared wreck of a man, out of the loop with alcohol and pills. If he wasn’t coherent, then how could he be scared? Make sense?
No, I know. I look back on this now and I don’t know what scares me more – what happened or how I reacted to it.
The rest of the day after the incident in the library, I pretty much kept to myself. I didn’t know the guys were worried. Well, I guessed that they might be concerned about what was going on, after all they had all experienced it by now, but it never occurred to me that I was adding to the problem with my behaviour. The thing is, previously it had all happened at night before and now, the daytime and the library had been invaded by whatever was haunting this place. The library, my one safe place in the whole building had been taken from me. I felt alone, isolated. I drew into myself, which only made things worse for Gerard. He grew increasingly concerned but it was as if I couldn’t see it. I was blinkered, blindfolded, eyes shut tight like a child afraid of the dark. But I was afraid, because I knew that something in the dark was coming for me.
As it turned out, that night I was to be proved wrong and for the first time since we arrived, I wholeheartedly wished it had come for me.
*
It was late. Very late. Downstairs the clock had chimed the half hour, but I didn’t know which hour. If I were to guess it would be two or three. Sleep had come to me slowly and when it had it was brief and filled with nightmares. Usually when you wake from a nightmare, you’re glad. Even if it’s a particularly vivid nightmare and you still feel scared on waking, you’re glad it’s over. Breathing returns to normal, a sip of water and you’re ready to sleep again. Not me. Waking from a nightmare in that room was always terrifying.
The room exuded the feeling that it had created the nightmare that your disturbing and chilling dreams were merely an appetiser; a taste of what was really to come. The atmosphere was thick and hostile making breathing, even swallowing difficult. Shadows seemed darker, and more opaque than they should be. It was as if they were black masses, real things with a life of their own, hiding from me, ready to attack if I for a moment glanced away. My mind was already racing when I heard the splash of water coming from the adjoining bathroom. My heart plummeted and hammered so hard in my chest I thought it might explode. I felt the heat of panic wash over me and only then did I notice the faint light underneath the bathroom door.
I’ve never thought of myself as brave and whenever Gerard and I would watch a horror movie, we always berated the people who never put lights on or went down into the cellar even though they heard the screams. Yet, here I was, out of bed before I even realised it and without switching on even a lamp, I was edging slowly towards the bathroom door.
As I approached , there was more splashing, I even saw what looked like water coming under the door. More splashing, banging like someone thumping or kicking the bathtub, muffled screaming, gurgling and finally, as I placed my hand on the door handle, the most chilling laughter I ever heard in my life.
I was rooted to the spot. Ice-cold water lapped at my feet as the laughter continued and the rest of the noise finally subsided, leaving only the sound of water gently swishing back and forth in the tub. If what was happening was real, then had I just allowed someone to be murdered in my bathroom? Was it real? Could it be real? The water snaking around my feet felt real. The laughter still ringing in my ears sounded real enough. And then, of course, it hit me – if it was real, we were the only ones here. Who was in there?
Quickly turning the handle, I threw open the door only to find the room in absolute darkness. Expecting to be pushed aside, I planted my feet firmly but the second or two that flew by with no response confused me. Peering into what was, at first an impenetrable darkness but slowly gave way to a variety of shapes and shadows, I swung my arm up sharply and hit the light switch. Nothing. There was nothing and no one there; the bathtub was dry, as were my feet.
I held my breath; I was going crazy. Or at least that’s how it felt. Briefly I felt as though a haze had come down over my eyes and I realised a few moments later that I was actually crying. It was too much, far too much and I just couldn’t deal with it.
Lowering my head, I allowed my tears to fall ever faster and it wasn’t long before I felt a pair of hands on my shoulder. I doubted if the guys ever slept all that well while I was there, I was always waking them up for some reason or another. But when I looked up once more, I gasped audibly as in the bathroom mirror I saw the figure standing behind me wasn’t Gerard or any of the guys. The woman I had seen in my room once before stood with her hands on my shoulders and I couldn’t budge an inch. Either I was frozen with fear or somehow she was stopping me from moving. Whatever the cause I was rigid, staring straight ahead, terrified. In the light from the bathroom, I could see she was dripping wet. Her hair plastered against her head, her skin cast with a faint blue tinge.
“I can’t protect you any more.”
The woman spoke without moving her lips. Perhaps I just imagined it? Perhaps she made the words appear in my head, but I knew it was a warning. Perhaps she told me much more than those few words, or maybe I just realised simply because it all fitted. I knew this was Lucy and I was hearing her death over and over. Remembering the night when Gerard had pulled me from the pool, I now knew I had almost met with the same death myself. Finding her diary had made things so much worse instead of better. I knew that it was bad, but her next words to me hit me like a ton of bricks. Suddenly, I knew things were spiralling out of control.
“I can’t protect any of you.”
In that instant, as weak as I felt, I found myself able to pull away from her. As I did, sounds came to my ears that I knew I hadn’t heard earlier. It was coming from next door; Gerard’s room. A mixture of incomprehensible words and sounds, growing louder with every passing second until they filled my ears and as frightened as I was, I knew I had to help him. As I moved, I almost lost my footing as my legs gave way for a moment and I scrambled back up, and headed, half running, half stumbling tot the door. As I threw open the door into the hallway, I looked back only to find my room empty. It held my attention for a few seconds more – I was certain the room only looked empty. One of those shadows. One of them wasn’t what it seemed – but which one?
Launching myself towards Gerard’s room, the sounds, those terrifying sounds grew increasingly loud as I approached. Opening the door was to be the first challenge. I knew he hadn’t locked it, he never did, but just as with the library earlier in the day, there was no budging it. Hammering on the door, I was screaming at the top of my lungs but nothing I did made any difference. Trying the handle once more, I almost fell into the room as it turned suddenly. Staggering forward to regain my balance, my eyes widened as I saw him. Frederick, the pockmarked man, the murderer standing over Gerard. Slowly he turned to face me and was just smiling at me. It was a cruel, evil smile, one that only seemed to confirm my worst fears. Below him, lying on the bed, Gerard was still sleeping, choking, gasping, crying out with muffled, strangled words for help.
“Get away from him!” I screamed, running forward.
I didn’t know what to expect, what I thought was going to happen when I reached him. He was a ghost, a phantom. Despite the very real fear he had created within me, within all of us, and the terrifying demonstrations of his abilities – slamming doors, dreams, the sounds, the water… everything – despite all this, he wasn’t a physical being. Certainly not in the sense I understood, anyway.
With my hands raised to push him aside, I saw them move through his body. My own momentum carried me onwards until I slammed against the wall. As I passed through him, a chill settled into every bone in my body and I ached with the sheer agony of the cold seeping into my very soul. All at once, I felt fear, anger, love, hatred, and the very essence of evil poured into every inch of my body. It was all I could do and more to remain standing. Despite the continued sounds of distress coming from the bed, I was exhausted, drained and empty.
Sliding down the wall, I felt that all emotion and strength had been sucked from me, leaving me an empty shell. I don’t even remember reaching the floor. Neither do I remember the guys racing in to help, having heard my screams and Gerard’s muffled cries. I was, by all accounts, a quivering wreck. Huddled in the corner, hugging my legs, silent tears streaming down my face.
It was the beginning of the end for me.
No, I know. I look back on this now and I don’t know what scares me more – what happened or how I reacted to it.
The rest of the day after the incident in the library, I pretty much kept to myself. I didn’t know the guys were worried. Well, I guessed that they might be concerned about what was going on, after all they had all experienced it by now, but it never occurred to me that I was adding to the problem with my behaviour. The thing is, previously it had all happened at night before and now, the daytime and the library had been invaded by whatever was haunting this place. The library, my one safe place in the whole building had been taken from me. I felt alone, isolated. I drew into myself, which only made things worse for Gerard. He grew increasingly concerned but it was as if I couldn’t see it. I was blinkered, blindfolded, eyes shut tight like a child afraid of the dark. But I was afraid, because I knew that something in the dark was coming for me.
As it turned out, that night I was to be proved wrong and for the first time since we arrived, I wholeheartedly wished it had come for me.
*
It was late. Very late. Downstairs the clock had chimed the half hour, but I didn’t know which hour. If I were to guess it would be two or three. Sleep had come to me slowly and when it had it was brief and filled with nightmares. Usually when you wake from a nightmare, you’re glad. Even if it’s a particularly vivid nightmare and you still feel scared on waking, you’re glad it’s over. Breathing returns to normal, a sip of water and you’re ready to sleep again. Not me. Waking from a nightmare in that room was always terrifying.
The room exuded the feeling that it had created the nightmare that your disturbing and chilling dreams were merely an appetiser; a taste of what was really to come. The atmosphere was thick and hostile making breathing, even swallowing difficult. Shadows seemed darker, and more opaque than they should be. It was as if they were black masses, real things with a life of their own, hiding from me, ready to attack if I for a moment glanced away. My mind was already racing when I heard the splash of water coming from the adjoining bathroom. My heart plummeted and hammered so hard in my chest I thought it might explode. I felt the heat of panic wash over me and only then did I notice the faint light underneath the bathroom door.
I’ve never thought of myself as brave and whenever Gerard and I would watch a horror movie, we always berated the people who never put lights on or went down into the cellar even though they heard the screams. Yet, here I was, out of bed before I even realised it and without switching on even a lamp, I was edging slowly towards the bathroom door.
As I approached , there was more splashing, I even saw what looked like water coming under the door. More splashing, banging like someone thumping or kicking the bathtub, muffled screaming, gurgling and finally, as I placed my hand on the door handle, the most chilling laughter I ever heard in my life.
I was rooted to the spot. Ice-cold water lapped at my feet as the laughter continued and the rest of the noise finally subsided, leaving only the sound of water gently swishing back and forth in the tub. If what was happening was real, then had I just allowed someone to be murdered in my bathroom? Was it real? Could it be real? The water snaking around my feet felt real. The laughter still ringing in my ears sounded real enough. And then, of course, it hit me – if it was real, we were the only ones here. Who was in there?
Quickly turning the handle, I threw open the door only to find the room in absolute darkness. Expecting to be pushed aside, I planted my feet firmly but the second or two that flew by with no response confused me. Peering into what was, at first an impenetrable darkness but slowly gave way to a variety of shapes and shadows, I swung my arm up sharply and hit the light switch. Nothing. There was nothing and no one there; the bathtub was dry, as were my feet.
I held my breath; I was going crazy. Or at least that’s how it felt. Briefly I felt as though a haze had come down over my eyes and I realised a few moments later that I was actually crying. It was too much, far too much and I just couldn’t deal with it.
Lowering my head, I allowed my tears to fall ever faster and it wasn’t long before I felt a pair of hands on my shoulder. I doubted if the guys ever slept all that well while I was there, I was always waking them up for some reason or another. But when I looked up once more, I gasped audibly as in the bathroom mirror I saw the figure standing behind me wasn’t Gerard or any of the guys. The woman I had seen in my room once before stood with her hands on my shoulders and I couldn’t budge an inch. Either I was frozen with fear or somehow she was stopping me from moving. Whatever the cause I was rigid, staring straight ahead, terrified. In the light from the bathroom, I could see she was dripping wet. Her hair plastered against her head, her skin cast with a faint blue tinge.
“I can’t protect you any more.”
The woman spoke without moving her lips. Perhaps I just imagined it? Perhaps she made the words appear in my head, but I knew it was a warning. Perhaps she told me much more than those few words, or maybe I just realised simply because it all fitted. I knew this was Lucy and I was hearing her death over and over. Remembering the night when Gerard had pulled me from the pool, I now knew I had almost met with the same death myself. Finding her diary had made things so much worse instead of better. I knew that it was bad, but her next words to me hit me like a ton of bricks. Suddenly, I knew things were spiralling out of control.
“I can’t protect any of you.”
In that instant, as weak as I felt, I found myself able to pull away from her. As I did, sounds came to my ears that I knew I hadn’t heard earlier. It was coming from next door; Gerard’s room. A mixture of incomprehensible words and sounds, growing louder with every passing second until they filled my ears and as frightened as I was, I knew I had to help him. As I moved, I almost lost my footing as my legs gave way for a moment and I scrambled back up, and headed, half running, half stumbling tot the door. As I threw open the door into the hallway, I looked back only to find my room empty. It held my attention for a few seconds more – I was certain the room only looked empty. One of those shadows. One of them wasn’t what it seemed – but which one?
Launching myself towards Gerard’s room, the sounds, those terrifying sounds grew increasingly loud as I approached. Opening the door was to be the first challenge. I knew he hadn’t locked it, he never did, but just as with the library earlier in the day, there was no budging it. Hammering on the door, I was screaming at the top of my lungs but nothing I did made any difference. Trying the handle once more, I almost fell into the room as it turned suddenly. Staggering forward to regain my balance, my eyes widened as I saw him. Frederick, the pockmarked man, the murderer standing over Gerard. Slowly he turned to face me and was just smiling at me. It was a cruel, evil smile, one that only seemed to confirm my worst fears. Below him, lying on the bed, Gerard was still sleeping, choking, gasping, crying out with muffled, strangled words for help.
“Get away from him!” I screamed, running forward.
I didn’t know what to expect, what I thought was going to happen when I reached him. He was a ghost, a phantom. Despite the very real fear he had created within me, within all of us, and the terrifying demonstrations of his abilities – slamming doors, dreams, the sounds, the water… everything – despite all this, he wasn’t a physical being. Certainly not in the sense I understood, anyway.
With my hands raised to push him aside, I saw them move through his body. My own momentum carried me onwards until I slammed against the wall. As I passed through him, a chill settled into every bone in my body and I ached with the sheer agony of the cold seeping into my very soul. All at once, I felt fear, anger, love, hatred, and the very essence of evil poured into every inch of my body. It was all I could do and more to remain standing. Despite the continued sounds of distress coming from the bed, I was exhausted, drained and empty.
Sliding down the wall, I felt that all emotion and strength had been sucked from me, leaving me an empty shell. I don’t even remember reaching the floor. Neither do I remember the guys racing in to help, having heard my screams and Gerard’s muffled cries. I was, by all accounts, a quivering wreck. Huddled in the corner, hugging my legs, silent tears streaming down my face.
It was the beginning of the end for me.
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