Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > A Little Piece of Heaven

Let Go

by Ziggy99 2 reviews

It was when the drone got seemingly louder that Gerard began to hit his head against the wall. Gently at first, but gradually building to such an intensity that fresh blood, skin and hair clung to ...

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: G - Genres: Angst,Fantasy,Horror - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way - Warnings: [V] [?] - Published: 2012-02-12 - Updated: 2012-02-12 - 1111 words

A/N: Let me know what you think. Good or bad, feedback is priceless. 

Frank was lying on the floor. 
Frank was dead. 
Blood poured from the hole in which his heart had once resided, the heart which was now in Gerard's hand. 
Gerard held the organ out. 
He lifted it above his head. 
It was still beating and Gerard felt the warmth from it. 
He held the heart to his own, the coldness which lay deep inside him, warming. 
The heart beat more, faster and faster. 
So fast. 
So quick. 
Gerard was transfixed by its beauty. 
He brought the organ to his face, and held it to his cheek. 
The beating whispered, but Gerard could not understand. 
He listened harder, and then, quietly... 

"Eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it."

Gerard threw the heart to the ground in shock. 
But the whispering still continued. Slowly getting louder...

"Eat it, eat it, eat it."

Gerard screamed, holding his hands to his ears, he looked to the floor, but Frank was gone. 
He looked to his left, and there was Frank, pale and dead, but standing, and whispering...

"Eat it, eat it, eat it, EAT IT."

Gerard woke up.

His hazel eyes darted around the dark room. He was drenched in his own sweat, his greasy, unwashed hair clinging to his scalp and his bed sheets wet and smelly. He shook all over as he clung the covers tighter around himself, partly for warmth and partly for comfort.  Gerard blinked back tears as he recalled the dream, the deep, dreadful pain coming back to him full force. He shuffled slightly towards the end of his bed, it creaking loudly as he did so.

"Eat it." The bed seemed to creak. Gerard jumped and whimpered slightly.

He stood up shakily, and turned on the light. It clicked loudly, louder than it ever seemed to do so before. Gerard flinched away, stumbled, and tripped. He fell on his elbow, sending a sharp blinding pain through his whole body, and then cried out in pain when a mug of old cold coffee fell from the shelf, and onto his head, creating a sharp ringing sound to vibrate in his ears.  The ringing continued, and eventually settled into a dull drone, constantly in his head.

"Eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it." The drone whispered.

"NO!" Screamed Gerard, as he clutched his hands to his ears, much like he had in his dream. The whispering continued, a never ending noise that tormented Gerard's innermost being, and made his very soul seem to crack. It was when the drone got seemingly louder that Gerard began to hit his head against the wall. Gently at first, but gradually building to such an intensity that fresh blood, skin and hair clung to the plaster and paint. And yet, the whispering drone did not stop.

In a word, Gerard had snapped. 

It had been 4 days since his dreadful doing, but the guilt, the shame, and he lust had finally beaten him. Gerard picked himself off the floor, and dragged himself downstairs. He stumbled into the basement, and knelt next to the corpse that still lay on the basement floor, it's chest still open and exposed. Gerard hadn't even cleaned the vomit and blood off the floor.

"Eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it." Gerard's head buzzed. He peered into Frank's open chest cavity, his eye twitching forcefully. He moaned in sadness, and rest his head on the body of his dear friend. 

"Eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it." The voices still sung. Gerard moaned once more, and through tear filled eyes looked on as he reached inside the opening in Frank's chest, and wrapped his dirty fingers around the wet, cold organ inside. His breath hitched in his throat, as he slowly began to bring the heart out. He tugged. He pulled. Something snapped, and the smell was awful. But still Gerard persisted, his heart and soul screaming at him to stop, but his mind raring him on. 

His mind, which would eventually be his great downfall.

Eventually, Gerard lifted the organ from its home. He held it away from himself, in shock and in horror, the dull redness of the heart seeping disgusting and foul smelling fluids down Gerard's arm. It was odd-looking. It was ugly. 

"Eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it."

Gerard let out a cry of emotion, and felt tears run down his cheeks. He had always tried to be a good person. He was a loving brother, a caring father, a kind and helpful son. And a role model for many. Who was to know he would fall in love? So desperately and hopelessly in love. The romanticised version of him and the body of Frank had been so much happier than the reality of the sad situation.

Yet here he was. Who would have known, indeed?  What an unlikely predicament for such a loved and idolised being. The singing drone inside Gerard's head persisted, Gerard wondered for a moment if it was caused from simply tiredness, or madness.  Either way, it was what drove him to bring the wet organ to his pale, awaiting lips.


Frank screamed in terror and blind pain. Nurses flocked to his bedside instantly, trying desperately and futilely to calm the crying man. 

But not even the cold dead hands of the inexperienced nurses could soothe the tearing, blinding pain which came from deep within his chest. It felt like his very being was being torn apart, and his insides squeezed out through a narrow gap within his chest. Frank cried out louder, his eyes bulging in pain, and saliva dripping from his open mouth. Nurses spoke to each other frantically, and after realising there was nothing they could do, left Frank alone in his cold room, screaming and crying and tearing at his own skin for the tragic, tremendous, and terrifying pain to stop.

Which it didn't, for a few hours.

And when Frank woke up, he asked the nurses, through tears, what had happened. They only replied with what they did all the time. That they didn't know, and that it was simply a mystery as to why they were there, and why they looked and felt the way they did. And that Frank should be grateful, to be conscious at least.

Frank did not feel grateful. He felt dizzy and tormented. He threw a fit, he knocked over beds and desks, tables and chairs, much like he often did. 

The nurses only sighed, and continued with their never ending work, too caught up in their own demise to worry or care.
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