Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Give 'Em Hell Kid
A\N just a quick note from me to say HOW SORRY I AM for how late this chapter is. I've been so busy lately, and I've had no inspiration, but I finally snatched myself some free time and got down to finishing this for you. Hope you enjoy it. It'll get more exciting in the coming chapters, I promise :) - Tasha
"...dad? ....dad is that you?" I called through the door. There was no reply for a few seconds. I knew I should have just opened the door, but for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to do it.
"Hayley, I'm home darling!" dad slurred, " I came to see if my little baby was alright." I finally made myself yank open the door and face him. His face and eyes were red and he swayed from side to side. For that moment, he disgusted me. "Yes dad, I'm fine! I'm always fine! Just because you're out with all your friends and drinking, doesn't mean I'm not fine!" I shouted the last bit, needing to get it out of me as quick as possible. He just stood there, looking like he was about to collapse. " Ugh, let's get you to bed, dad." I sighed, grabbing his shirt tightly and steering him into the spare room. He fell on the bed, his eyes already closed. I turned to leave but a tiny choking sound made me turn back. " I don't want you to go, Hay. I don’t want you to go to your mother's, I want you to stay here with me." Dad mumbled, beginning to sob bitterly. I went over to the bedside and knelt next to him, all the hatred and anger gone from me. " I won't go dad. I know you need me. I'll stay right here, I promise." He needed me, that was plain to see. I was the only one who could stop him drinking. "Of course....of course you will..." dad mumbled again, his eyes closing slowly as he fell asleep. I waited another five minutes until I was sure he was sleeping, then quietly left the room. I’d seen him drunk so many times since mum left, but never this sad, this bitter. He was right about mum, she shouldn’t have left us. We were in a mess that we couldn’t get out of. I’d seen the discarded bill envelopes in the trashcan. We couldn’t last much longer. I felt a single tear begin to roll down my cheek and brushed it away quickly and with it I brushed away all thoughts of my situation. I turned my bedroom light off, flicked on my torch and lay on my bedroom floor in the dark, staring up at my blank, white ceiling.
I woke at half six, my back stiff and sore from lying on my hard bedroom floor. I hadn’t even realised I was tired. Papers fell from me as I sat up, rustling and crumpling as I pushed my body up into a standing position. I blearily groped around my room for my school uniform, my eyes still half closed. It was an hour earlier than I usually woke up, and I didn’t need to leave for school until 8:25, but I decided that now I was up, I might as well get ready. I wanted a decent amount of time to do my make-up and hair this morning. Not that I was trying to impress anyone. I went quietly downstairs and into the kitchen, the cool tiles making me shiver a little. I grabbed the bread and stuffed a couple of slices into the toaster. I hauled myself onto the counter, my skinny, black tights clad legs dangling a few inches off the ground. Try as I might to stop it, my mind kept wandering to thoughts about Mr Way. I liked the way he treated me like an adult, yet didn’t try to ignore the fact I was still quite young, even though I didn’t like to think I was. He was also an amazing artist. He’d helped me out twice on my artwork, and both times I had been blown away by his skill. When he’d driven me home the other night and we’d sat in the car whilst the rain poured down outside, I’d strangely seen how attractive he was.
The toast popped out of the toaster, making me jump and shattering my thoughts. I carefully levered the hot bread out with my fingertips, cursing under my breath when I burned myself. I smeared margarine over my breakfast and tore a piece off, chewing and this time burning my tongue. I crept back upstairs to my room to sort my hair out. I knelt down in front of my mirror and pinned back my sad excuse for a side fringe. I looked at my face for a moment. Nope. Still the same boring face. Same pale blue eyes, same limp, light brown hair. Same slightly chubby nose, naturally dark pink lips and freckles scattered across my nose. I sighed and picked up my eyeliner pencil. When I’d outlined my eyes and put on a couple of coats of mascara, I untangled my long hair from its night time braid and ran my brush through the make-shift waves that it had created. I then began to re-braid it, seeing as my hair refused to style any other way. Finally, when I was ready to leave, I slipped in to see dad. He was lying sprawled on the bed, his hair sticking up and a troubled look on his sleeping face. I quietly, carefully leant down and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
"...dad? ....dad is that you?" I called through the door. There was no reply for a few seconds. I knew I should have just opened the door, but for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to do it.
"Hayley, I'm home darling!" dad slurred, " I came to see if my little baby was alright." I finally made myself yank open the door and face him. His face and eyes were red and he swayed from side to side. For that moment, he disgusted me. "Yes dad, I'm fine! I'm always fine! Just because you're out with all your friends and drinking, doesn't mean I'm not fine!" I shouted the last bit, needing to get it out of me as quick as possible. He just stood there, looking like he was about to collapse. " Ugh, let's get you to bed, dad." I sighed, grabbing his shirt tightly and steering him into the spare room. He fell on the bed, his eyes already closed. I turned to leave but a tiny choking sound made me turn back. " I don't want you to go, Hay. I don’t want you to go to your mother's, I want you to stay here with me." Dad mumbled, beginning to sob bitterly. I went over to the bedside and knelt next to him, all the hatred and anger gone from me. " I won't go dad. I know you need me. I'll stay right here, I promise." He needed me, that was plain to see. I was the only one who could stop him drinking. "Of course....of course you will..." dad mumbled again, his eyes closing slowly as he fell asleep. I waited another five minutes until I was sure he was sleeping, then quietly left the room. I’d seen him drunk so many times since mum left, but never this sad, this bitter. He was right about mum, she shouldn’t have left us. We were in a mess that we couldn’t get out of. I’d seen the discarded bill envelopes in the trashcan. We couldn’t last much longer. I felt a single tear begin to roll down my cheek and brushed it away quickly and with it I brushed away all thoughts of my situation. I turned my bedroom light off, flicked on my torch and lay on my bedroom floor in the dark, staring up at my blank, white ceiling.
I woke at half six, my back stiff and sore from lying on my hard bedroom floor. I hadn’t even realised I was tired. Papers fell from me as I sat up, rustling and crumpling as I pushed my body up into a standing position. I blearily groped around my room for my school uniform, my eyes still half closed. It was an hour earlier than I usually woke up, and I didn’t need to leave for school until 8:25, but I decided that now I was up, I might as well get ready. I wanted a decent amount of time to do my make-up and hair this morning. Not that I was trying to impress anyone. I went quietly downstairs and into the kitchen, the cool tiles making me shiver a little. I grabbed the bread and stuffed a couple of slices into the toaster. I hauled myself onto the counter, my skinny, black tights clad legs dangling a few inches off the ground. Try as I might to stop it, my mind kept wandering to thoughts about Mr Way. I liked the way he treated me like an adult, yet didn’t try to ignore the fact I was still quite young, even though I didn’t like to think I was. He was also an amazing artist. He’d helped me out twice on my artwork, and both times I had been blown away by his skill. When he’d driven me home the other night and we’d sat in the car whilst the rain poured down outside, I’d strangely seen how attractive he was.
The toast popped out of the toaster, making me jump and shattering my thoughts. I carefully levered the hot bread out with my fingertips, cursing under my breath when I burned myself. I smeared margarine over my breakfast and tore a piece off, chewing and this time burning my tongue. I crept back upstairs to my room to sort my hair out. I knelt down in front of my mirror and pinned back my sad excuse for a side fringe. I looked at my face for a moment. Nope. Still the same boring face. Same pale blue eyes, same limp, light brown hair. Same slightly chubby nose, naturally dark pink lips and freckles scattered across my nose. I sighed and picked up my eyeliner pencil. When I’d outlined my eyes and put on a couple of coats of mascara, I untangled my long hair from its night time braid and ran my brush through the make-shift waves that it had created. I then began to re-braid it, seeing as my hair refused to style any other way. Finally, when I was ready to leave, I slipped in to see dad. He was lying sprawled on the bed, his hair sticking up and a troubled look on his sleeping face. I quietly, carefully leant down and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
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