Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > A Little Piece of Heaven
Lay Still Like The Dead
0 reviewsFrank realises more, and sees his body for the first time since the incident.
2Insightful
A/N- This was never supposed to be a supernatural fic. Ha, oh well. On with the show.
It was cold, and a gentle breeze of chilly air was blowing through the window opposite Frank's bed. The breeze carried itself thought his covers and up his dirty hospital gown, giving him goosebumps and making him shiver.
His ordeal at the hospital had been comfortable although Frank had not exactly been cooperative. The nurses waited on him hand and foot, and he was mostly just left to do his own thing, but he never washed, never brushed his teeth, and never ate.
"You'd never think a dead guy could fuckin' perspire." Frank had thought, bitterly.
His misery had not vanished, however, and he still cried frequently for his losses. The days in the hospital eventually all merged together, until he was no longer sure how long exactly he had been there. The one thing he did know, was that he died on the 12th of December. He had scratched the date onto his arm, so he would never forget. "12/1/12" was now forever imprinted onto his arm, along with various deep scratches that had required stitches, and three lovely names. Jamia, Cherry, and Lily.
He traced the names with his fingertips occasionally, murmuring sweet nothings to his all too distant wife, and singing lullabies to his all too distant babies. Usually at the hospital, he just sang, all day and all night.
"When you go, just know that I will remember you...If living was the hardest part, we'll then one day, be together..." Frank sung for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. He finished the song and immediately launched into The Ghost Of You, a song which often left him crying at the end.
Halfway through, the familiar nurse whose name he did not know, walked in. "It's time, Mr Iero."
Frank only nodded, and sat up. His back cracked loudly, and his head felt dizzy. The nurse began carefully undressing the bandages around Frank's neck, and then washing it with antiseptic carefully. Frank had found out previously, that shortly after he had died from Asphyxiation, his neck had been broken on several places. This effected Frank somehow, it was the reason for Frank's heavy bruising and twisted neck. His head still tilted at a slightly odd angle, even after the surgery, and it annoyed the hell out of him.
The nurse looked Frank in the eyes. "Here are some tips, if you're going to be here for a while. Don't wound your body, it wont heal. Don't try to kill yourself, it won't work. Don't get infections, they won't heal. And most importantly." She looked at Frank sympathetically. "Keep your chin up. It'll be okay."
Frank stared back a her blankly, and she frowned. She blushed slightly and took Frank by the arm, leading him outside of the room in which he'd spent all of his time in.
Frank looked around at the hospital. It was much like a regular hospital, but at the same time, very very different. It was completely sterile; not a smudge of dirt to be seen, and the walls and floor and ceiling were completely white. He door he had just come out of, had a sign saying "Recently Deceased" on the front, and it gave Frank the shivers. All the doors along the same aisle as Frank had the same signs on the front, and all were occupied. Frank had asked the nurse, whose name was Susanna, soon after his visit from Dr Reid, how he had gotten here, and how all the other new "Shade"s got here, too. She had given a very complicated answer.
She had said, that this was in the place of the unburied. This meant that none of the people, or, Shades, existing in the hospital were buried, and had never been. If they were, it would take them to a place of complete happiness, and eternal peace.
"There isn't even an afterlife for them..." Susanna had said.
Frank had nodded. Being unburied made Frank feel...unfinished. He had wanted to be buried, he had written it in his Will, and the idea that his body may be lying outside somewhere, made him feel naked and vulnerable. He understood that if he was, buried, he may become properly dead. No more thoughts, not more feelings. But he had already lost so much. He had nothing more to exist for. He didn't want to exist. He wanted to be a peace with himself, and with all around him.
Frank winced as he felt another pang in his heart at the memory of the conversation. It was all so hopeless.
Susanna nudged Frank gently, and pulled him along to walk down the hospital corridors. His bare feet made a soft slapping sound on the cold white tiles as he walked , and he felt extremely exposed, wearing only the thin, dirty hospital gown he had been wearing since he got there.
Susanne walked him past the front door of the hospital. It was blacked out, nothing could be seen of the outside. Frank wasn't even sure if there was an outside. But then, what would be the point of a front door? Frank shook his head, clearing it of his petty thoughts.
Soon, they reached their destination. A long, wide mirror that stretched from the floor to he ceiling, from wall to wall. Frank took one look at himself, and cried out in emotion. He felt his knees buckle, and was close to falling.
The person reflected back at Frank did not look like Frank at all. The once happy brown eyes were now grey, and bloodshot. His hair was greasy and hung limply past his ears, and his entire face looked pale and sickly, and was covered in purple bruises, the shape of hands, with deep cuts where the nails would have been. Frank's body looked to be the most normal, but when he lifted his gown, he discovered two identical bruises, one on either side, like someone had been kneeling on him. The worst of the damage however, was Frank's neck. It stuck out at more of an angle than Frank ever imagined, and although there was minimal bruising due to the surgery, there were long, prominent scars down either side. His collar bones were completely shattered, and he had scratches down his shoulders and arms, mixing with those he'd inflicted on himself. These scars, these wounds, would never heal.
It didn't take an idiot to realise that Frank had been killed, and it was the realisation of this that made Frank's legs buckle beneath him, and fresh tears to seep from his eyes.
It was cold, and a gentle breeze of chilly air was blowing through the window opposite Frank's bed. The breeze carried itself thought his covers and up his dirty hospital gown, giving him goosebumps and making him shiver.
His ordeal at the hospital had been comfortable although Frank had not exactly been cooperative. The nurses waited on him hand and foot, and he was mostly just left to do his own thing, but he never washed, never brushed his teeth, and never ate.
"You'd never think a dead guy could fuckin' perspire." Frank had thought, bitterly.
His misery had not vanished, however, and he still cried frequently for his losses. The days in the hospital eventually all merged together, until he was no longer sure how long exactly he had been there. The one thing he did know, was that he died on the 12th of December. He had scratched the date onto his arm, so he would never forget. "12/1/12" was now forever imprinted onto his arm, along with various deep scratches that had required stitches, and three lovely names. Jamia, Cherry, and Lily.
He traced the names with his fingertips occasionally, murmuring sweet nothings to his all too distant wife, and singing lullabies to his all too distant babies. Usually at the hospital, he just sang, all day and all night.
"When you go, just know that I will remember you...If living was the hardest part, we'll then one day, be together..." Frank sung for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. He finished the song and immediately launched into The Ghost Of You, a song which often left him crying at the end.
Halfway through, the familiar nurse whose name he did not know, walked in. "It's time, Mr Iero."
Frank only nodded, and sat up. His back cracked loudly, and his head felt dizzy. The nurse began carefully undressing the bandages around Frank's neck, and then washing it with antiseptic carefully. Frank had found out previously, that shortly after he had died from Asphyxiation, his neck had been broken on several places. This effected Frank somehow, it was the reason for Frank's heavy bruising and twisted neck. His head still tilted at a slightly odd angle, even after the surgery, and it annoyed the hell out of him.
The nurse looked Frank in the eyes. "Here are some tips, if you're going to be here for a while. Don't wound your body, it wont heal. Don't try to kill yourself, it won't work. Don't get infections, they won't heal. And most importantly." She looked at Frank sympathetically. "Keep your chin up. It'll be okay."
Frank stared back a her blankly, and she frowned. She blushed slightly and took Frank by the arm, leading him outside of the room in which he'd spent all of his time in.
Frank looked around at the hospital. It was much like a regular hospital, but at the same time, very very different. It was completely sterile; not a smudge of dirt to be seen, and the walls and floor and ceiling were completely white. He door he had just come out of, had a sign saying "Recently Deceased" on the front, and it gave Frank the shivers. All the doors along the same aisle as Frank had the same signs on the front, and all were occupied. Frank had asked the nurse, whose name was Susanna, soon after his visit from Dr Reid, how he had gotten here, and how all the other new "Shade"s got here, too. She had given a very complicated answer.
She had said, that this was in the place of the unburied. This meant that none of the people, or, Shades, existing in the hospital were buried, and had never been. If they were, it would take them to a place of complete happiness, and eternal peace.
"There isn't even an afterlife for them..." Susanna had said.
Frank had nodded. Being unburied made Frank feel...unfinished. He had wanted to be buried, he had written it in his Will, and the idea that his body may be lying outside somewhere, made him feel naked and vulnerable. He understood that if he was, buried, he may become properly dead. No more thoughts, not more feelings. But he had already lost so much. He had nothing more to exist for. He didn't want to exist. He wanted to be a peace with himself, and with all around him.
Frank winced as he felt another pang in his heart at the memory of the conversation. It was all so hopeless.
Susanna nudged Frank gently, and pulled him along to walk down the hospital corridors. His bare feet made a soft slapping sound on the cold white tiles as he walked , and he felt extremely exposed, wearing only the thin, dirty hospital gown he had been wearing since he got there.
Susanne walked him past the front door of the hospital. It was blacked out, nothing could be seen of the outside. Frank wasn't even sure if there was an outside. But then, what would be the point of a front door? Frank shook his head, clearing it of his petty thoughts.
Soon, they reached their destination. A long, wide mirror that stretched from the floor to he ceiling, from wall to wall. Frank took one look at himself, and cried out in emotion. He felt his knees buckle, and was close to falling.
The person reflected back at Frank did not look like Frank at all. The once happy brown eyes were now grey, and bloodshot. His hair was greasy and hung limply past his ears, and his entire face looked pale and sickly, and was covered in purple bruises, the shape of hands, with deep cuts where the nails would have been. Frank's body looked to be the most normal, but when he lifted his gown, he discovered two identical bruises, one on either side, like someone had been kneeling on him. The worst of the damage however, was Frank's neck. It stuck out at more of an angle than Frank ever imagined, and although there was minimal bruising due to the surgery, there were long, prominent scars down either side. His collar bones were completely shattered, and he had scratches down his shoulders and arms, mixing with those he'd inflicted on himself. These scars, these wounds, would never heal.
It didn't take an idiot to realise that Frank had been killed, and it was the realisation of this that made Frank's legs buckle beneath him, and fresh tears to seep from his eyes.
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