Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Give 'Em Hell, Kid.
so, I am fearsgottahold, more commonly known as Ellie. This is the first fanfic I have written, and it would be lovleh if you could tell me what you think of it, and if I should carry on with it. Taa very much. also I would like to add that I know MCR are american, but I am not, so I am using English words and stuff. sorry:L
New school, new rules. That was the first thing that came to my head as I woke up, besides the obvious: no, I need more sleep, leave me alone kind of thing. Anyway, I had gone through this new scenario more times than I could count. It was hard being me, I guess you could say. I mean, I was the emo boy, who, since I wore eyeliner, was apparently gayer than a fairy clothed in pink satin. I wasn’t gay; at least, I was pretty sure I wasn’t. I hadn't really thought about it before. No-one got close enough to me for me to really care about them that much. Besides, I rarely left the house except for school, because of my little problem, so it wasn’t like I was staring at teenagers like me all the time.
“Gerard! Mikey! Get your arses up here and get ready for school! You’ve got 45 minutes before you have to leave!” A loud crash and a groan followed the shouted words, and I assumed that my brother, Mikey, had been violently woken up by my mother’s shouting and fallen out of bed. It was a regular occurrence in the Way household. Sighing, I rolled over and sat up, dragging a hand through my hair shocking myself once again at its length. As it was the first day of my new school, the day before my mother had decided that I needed to make a good impression and had dragged me off to the hairdressers to cut my shoulder length black hair off, till it only just reached my ears. All I could say was: fuck my mother. I had liked my old hair; it gave me a sense of security. And also, when I had the shit beaten out of me, no-one could see the tears dripping down my face. I never started the fights, although I never exactly wimped out when one started. I couldn’t just lay and take it, that wasn’t me. But it usually meant that I was beaten harder, and humiliated in front of more people. I didn’t know why I bothered really, I was going to end up lying on the floor, covered in my blood and tears anyway. Stop thinking like this I told myself sharply. New school, new rules. I wasn’t gonna be beaten up here, I was gonna be okay. And I had Mikey, it wasn’t like I was completely friendless. Ha, my only friend was my brother, how sad was I?
Dragging my lazy behind out of bed and into the bathroom for a pee I contemplated having a shower, then figured I had taken one yesterday, so there wasn’t really much point. What I really needed at that moment was coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. I made my way out of the bathroom into the brightly lit kitchen where I saw Mikey hunched over a mug and a bowl of Wheetos, his hair mussed up and sticking in all directions. The bitter smell of coffee granules drifted into my nostrils and I rushed over to the side to make myself a cup. Roughly thirty seconds later I was sat, facing my brother, sipping from a steaming black mug of heaven. I was addicted, I knew, but I didn’t really care. It was one of my many vices and I wasn’t about to give it up anytime soon.
“Morning.” My brother muttered to me, before shoving another mouthful of Wheetos into his mouth and spilling milk down the front of his Anthrax t-shirt that he always wore to bed. I nodded slightly, taking another huge gulp of coffee. About ten minutes and three cups later, I felt mostly human. I left Mikey at the table, walking back down he steps to my room to get dressed. Looking into my wardrobe I found a pair of unworn skinny jeans- a rarity- and a black, long sleeved t-shirt. I liked the colour black, it suited my mood most of the time. I was a dark person, therefore I wore dark clothes. It made sense. On top of the ensemble I pulled on a pair of bright red converse and a Blag Flag hoody. What can I say? I loved their music. Before I moved schools the first time, I tried to fit in by wearing more normal clothes, brighter coloured t-shirts, more fashionable clothing. But the beatings never stopped, and what was worse was that I didn’t feel like me anymore. I had lost my individuality, and I hated the feeling. I figured, since nothing seemed to stop the taunts, I would just wear what I wanted. After lightly outlining my eyes with black kohl I was ready. However, I was still early for school; I didn’t need to go for another twenty minutes. And so, the worrying and fidgeting began. Now that I had nothing to put my mind to, I began to wonder what this new school was like. It was the third I had been to, in about as many years, and there weren’t really any other options for schools near where I lived. This was it. I hoped that this year would be better; I didn’t think I could stand another place of taunts, punches and cruel words. They were what fuelled my problem. I couldn’t help what I did to cope, but I still knew it was bad. I felt dirty and wrong just thinking about it, but I couldn’t stop myself. Not when it felt so good.
A knock sounded at my door, jolting me out of my reverie. I stood up and made my way to the door, unlocking it to see my mothers face. She looked exhausted, but then again, she always did. Her long hours at the hospital meant she was almost never home, and her sleep was always limited. As loud as her voice could be, she always looked pained and downtrodden. I knew it was because of me and it made me feel even worse about myself. I never helped anyone, I hindered them. I was a pain, and an unneeded extra. It hurt. She smiled at me wearily.
“Hi sweetheart, I’m just wishing you good luck for your first day of school. I won't see you till Friday; I'm staying at Margaret’s because I have work every day until then. You be good honey. I'm off to sleep, I love you.” Stepping cautiously into her embrace I quickly muttered my thanks before moving back again. I hated people touching me, even my own mother, and I felt uncomfortable. She nodded, sighing almost imperceptibly, and then said, “Goodbye, have fun, and look after Mikey!” As if on cue my brother rushed out of his room, hair neatly straightened and glasses perched on the end of his nose. I loved the boy, I really did, but I didn’t get why he had to put his spectacles so far down his nose. He looked kinda stupid.
“We gotta go, Gee!” Mikey said breathlessly, grabbing his bag and flinging it over his shoulder, his newly straightened hair mussed from the contact with his bag strap. Sighing, I knelt, picked up my own bag and hoisted it onto my shoulder, mumbling goodbye to my mom as I edged past her. I hated the fact that I flinched whenever she tried to be kind, and motherly, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help the fact that I was so messed up inside. It wasn’t my fault, right? As much as I tried to tell myself this, I could feel the guilt building up inside of me. I was the one who controlled my body. Why couldn’t I control my mind? I tried to shove the obnoxious thoughts out of my mind by pushing past Mikey and walking out of the open front door to the cold September air, the threat of tears suddenly blinding me. Behind me I heard Mikey say goodbye to our mother and gently shutting the door. I set off at a brisk walk, not leaving any time for Mikey to catch up. I wanted my first day to be okay, me not have to worry about what had happened to me. Seemed to me like I had completely fucked that up before I had even walked out of the door of my own house.
So, yeah, please R&R?
New school, new rules. That was the first thing that came to my head as I woke up, besides the obvious: no, I need more sleep, leave me alone kind of thing. Anyway, I had gone through this new scenario more times than I could count. It was hard being me, I guess you could say. I mean, I was the emo boy, who, since I wore eyeliner, was apparently gayer than a fairy clothed in pink satin. I wasn’t gay; at least, I was pretty sure I wasn’t. I hadn't really thought about it before. No-one got close enough to me for me to really care about them that much. Besides, I rarely left the house except for school, because of my little problem, so it wasn’t like I was staring at teenagers like me all the time.
“Gerard! Mikey! Get your arses up here and get ready for school! You’ve got 45 minutes before you have to leave!” A loud crash and a groan followed the shouted words, and I assumed that my brother, Mikey, had been violently woken up by my mother’s shouting and fallen out of bed. It was a regular occurrence in the Way household. Sighing, I rolled over and sat up, dragging a hand through my hair shocking myself once again at its length. As it was the first day of my new school, the day before my mother had decided that I needed to make a good impression and had dragged me off to the hairdressers to cut my shoulder length black hair off, till it only just reached my ears. All I could say was: fuck my mother. I had liked my old hair; it gave me a sense of security. And also, when I had the shit beaten out of me, no-one could see the tears dripping down my face. I never started the fights, although I never exactly wimped out when one started. I couldn’t just lay and take it, that wasn’t me. But it usually meant that I was beaten harder, and humiliated in front of more people. I didn’t know why I bothered really, I was going to end up lying on the floor, covered in my blood and tears anyway. Stop thinking like this I told myself sharply. New school, new rules. I wasn’t gonna be beaten up here, I was gonna be okay. And I had Mikey, it wasn’t like I was completely friendless. Ha, my only friend was my brother, how sad was I?
Dragging my lazy behind out of bed and into the bathroom for a pee I contemplated having a shower, then figured I had taken one yesterday, so there wasn’t really much point. What I really needed at that moment was coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. I made my way out of the bathroom into the brightly lit kitchen where I saw Mikey hunched over a mug and a bowl of Wheetos, his hair mussed up and sticking in all directions. The bitter smell of coffee granules drifted into my nostrils and I rushed over to the side to make myself a cup. Roughly thirty seconds later I was sat, facing my brother, sipping from a steaming black mug of heaven. I was addicted, I knew, but I didn’t really care. It was one of my many vices and I wasn’t about to give it up anytime soon.
“Morning.” My brother muttered to me, before shoving another mouthful of Wheetos into his mouth and spilling milk down the front of his Anthrax t-shirt that he always wore to bed. I nodded slightly, taking another huge gulp of coffee. About ten minutes and three cups later, I felt mostly human. I left Mikey at the table, walking back down he steps to my room to get dressed. Looking into my wardrobe I found a pair of unworn skinny jeans- a rarity- and a black, long sleeved t-shirt. I liked the colour black, it suited my mood most of the time. I was a dark person, therefore I wore dark clothes. It made sense. On top of the ensemble I pulled on a pair of bright red converse and a Blag Flag hoody. What can I say? I loved their music. Before I moved schools the first time, I tried to fit in by wearing more normal clothes, brighter coloured t-shirts, more fashionable clothing. But the beatings never stopped, and what was worse was that I didn’t feel like me anymore. I had lost my individuality, and I hated the feeling. I figured, since nothing seemed to stop the taunts, I would just wear what I wanted. After lightly outlining my eyes with black kohl I was ready. However, I was still early for school; I didn’t need to go for another twenty minutes. And so, the worrying and fidgeting began. Now that I had nothing to put my mind to, I began to wonder what this new school was like. It was the third I had been to, in about as many years, and there weren’t really any other options for schools near where I lived. This was it. I hoped that this year would be better; I didn’t think I could stand another place of taunts, punches and cruel words. They were what fuelled my problem. I couldn’t help what I did to cope, but I still knew it was bad. I felt dirty and wrong just thinking about it, but I couldn’t stop myself. Not when it felt so good.
A knock sounded at my door, jolting me out of my reverie. I stood up and made my way to the door, unlocking it to see my mothers face. She looked exhausted, but then again, she always did. Her long hours at the hospital meant she was almost never home, and her sleep was always limited. As loud as her voice could be, she always looked pained and downtrodden. I knew it was because of me and it made me feel even worse about myself. I never helped anyone, I hindered them. I was a pain, and an unneeded extra. It hurt. She smiled at me wearily.
“Hi sweetheart, I’m just wishing you good luck for your first day of school. I won't see you till Friday; I'm staying at Margaret’s because I have work every day until then. You be good honey. I'm off to sleep, I love you.” Stepping cautiously into her embrace I quickly muttered my thanks before moving back again. I hated people touching me, even my own mother, and I felt uncomfortable. She nodded, sighing almost imperceptibly, and then said, “Goodbye, have fun, and look after Mikey!” As if on cue my brother rushed out of his room, hair neatly straightened and glasses perched on the end of his nose. I loved the boy, I really did, but I didn’t get why he had to put his spectacles so far down his nose. He looked kinda stupid.
“We gotta go, Gee!” Mikey said breathlessly, grabbing his bag and flinging it over his shoulder, his newly straightened hair mussed from the contact with his bag strap. Sighing, I knelt, picked up my own bag and hoisted it onto my shoulder, mumbling goodbye to my mom as I edged past her. I hated the fact that I flinched whenever she tried to be kind, and motherly, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help the fact that I was so messed up inside. It wasn’t my fault, right? As much as I tried to tell myself this, I could feel the guilt building up inside of me. I was the one who controlled my body. Why couldn’t I control my mind? I tried to shove the obnoxious thoughts out of my mind by pushing past Mikey and walking out of the open front door to the cold September air, the threat of tears suddenly blinding me. Behind me I heard Mikey say goodbye to our mother and gently shutting the door. I set off at a brisk walk, not leaving any time for Mikey to catch up. I wanted my first day to be okay, me not have to worry about what had happened to me. Seemed to me like I had completely fucked that up before I had even walked out of the door of my own house.
So, yeah, please R&R?
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