Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > 100 Ways To Torture Gerard Way
46. Strobe Lights
4 reviews"His head throbbed with thunderous pain, his eyes felt soon to melt in their sockets." Suggested by ONotz, AnotherKnifeInMyHand.
3Ambiance
A/N: This ones a bit short, but I promise the next one will make up for that! :)
46. Strobe Lights
Flash
Flash
Flash
The flashes flickered in and out of Gerard's eyesight, which was at the moment forced unblinking by plastic clips pulling back his eyelids.
He was forced into a chair, where he was restrained by metal binds on his neck, ankles, and wrists. Still, it almost felt nice to sit up for once.
A large but slender lighting machine sprayed him with flashes of the brightest light imaginable every four or five seconds.
Flash
Flash
Flash
His retinas were burning, and the world between the flashes was nothing more that a ghostly light, lingering only moments before its full impact engulfed him again.
Yet Gerard could not help but feel a sense of nostalgia at seeing this.
For somewhere, a thousand years ago, blitzkriegs of light used to come in the form of cameras, paparazzi, photoshoots. At one point or another, a thousand years ago, it had been part of his daily routine.
A ghost's voice whispered in his ear, "Smile for the cameras, pretty boy."
Flash
Flash
Flash
He was sure by the end of this, he would be blind.
His head was aching, ready to burst at any moment. He had no choice but to stare on, waiting for the light to swallow him whole.
They always talked of a light at the end of the tunnel. What if it was the other way around?
What if the tunnel was really made of light, and you traveled its depths, trying to find your way to the comforting darkness of the afterlife?
Flash
Flash
Flash
After what must have been hours of this routine of lights, lights, and more lights, Gerard wondered if blind would be better. Then he could no longer look at the ugly scars that decorated his massacred body, or at the very least, the lights that plagued him now.
But then all he'd have left to see is his nightmares -- yet he was unsure if there was a difference between those and what he experienced during the day. The lines between them had become blurred long ago.
His head throbbed with thunderous pain, his eyes felt soon to melt in their sockets. He had the image of white liquid with a slight mix of hazel that was once full of life, dripping down through hollow circles on his face -- like a waterfall of tears, only he had run out of tears and had resorted to the actual eyeballs instead. His body felt no pain, but Gerard expected a seizure of some sort any minute now.
Still, the voice echoed in his ears again. That voice from a thousand years ago. Gerard forced the corners of his mouth upward in a crooked smile, looking pleasant for the cameras.
Gerard remembered yet another voice, from the ghost of a former life:
"It is always important to keep up appearances."
Meanwhile, somewhere not so far away, Ray Toro was working diligently. He sorted invitations into envelopes, replied to emails on his laptop.
He organized and plotted, feeling the weight of this task on his broad shoulders, and his alone.
Amongst the envelopes, he found the name Mikey Way imprinted in cursive like writing. He examined it, thought of the disapproval he saw on the boys face when he last saw him, and sighed. Ray placed it gently aside from the others.
Mikey would not be coming to Gerard's memorial service. That much, he had made perfectly clear.
Next Chapter: "I'm walking on sunshine, woooah -- and don't it feel good!"
46. Strobe Lights
Flash
Flash
Flash
The flashes flickered in and out of Gerard's eyesight, which was at the moment forced unblinking by plastic clips pulling back his eyelids.
He was forced into a chair, where he was restrained by metal binds on his neck, ankles, and wrists. Still, it almost felt nice to sit up for once.
A large but slender lighting machine sprayed him with flashes of the brightest light imaginable every four or five seconds.
Flash
Flash
Flash
His retinas were burning, and the world between the flashes was nothing more that a ghostly light, lingering only moments before its full impact engulfed him again.
Yet Gerard could not help but feel a sense of nostalgia at seeing this.
For somewhere, a thousand years ago, blitzkriegs of light used to come in the form of cameras, paparazzi, photoshoots. At one point or another, a thousand years ago, it had been part of his daily routine.
A ghost's voice whispered in his ear, "Smile for the cameras, pretty boy."
Flash
Flash
Flash
He was sure by the end of this, he would be blind.
His head was aching, ready to burst at any moment. He had no choice but to stare on, waiting for the light to swallow him whole.
They always talked of a light at the end of the tunnel. What if it was the other way around?
What if the tunnel was really made of light, and you traveled its depths, trying to find your way to the comforting darkness of the afterlife?
Flash
Flash
Flash
After what must have been hours of this routine of lights, lights, and more lights, Gerard wondered if blind would be better. Then he could no longer look at the ugly scars that decorated his massacred body, or at the very least, the lights that plagued him now.
But then all he'd have left to see is his nightmares -- yet he was unsure if there was a difference between those and what he experienced during the day. The lines between them had become blurred long ago.
His head throbbed with thunderous pain, his eyes felt soon to melt in their sockets. He had the image of white liquid with a slight mix of hazel that was once full of life, dripping down through hollow circles on his face -- like a waterfall of tears, only he had run out of tears and had resorted to the actual eyeballs instead. His body felt no pain, but Gerard expected a seizure of some sort any minute now.
Still, the voice echoed in his ears again. That voice from a thousand years ago. Gerard forced the corners of his mouth upward in a crooked smile, looking pleasant for the cameras.
Gerard remembered yet another voice, from the ghost of a former life:
"It is always important to keep up appearances."
Meanwhile, somewhere not so far away, Ray Toro was working diligently. He sorted invitations into envelopes, replied to emails on his laptop.
He organized and plotted, feeling the weight of this task on his broad shoulders, and his alone.
Amongst the envelopes, he found the name Mikey Way imprinted in cursive like writing. He examined it, thought of the disapproval he saw on the boys face when he last saw him, and sighed. Ray placed it gently aside from the others.
Mikey would not be coming to Gerard's memorial service. That much, he had made perfectly clear.
Next Chapter: "I'm walking on sunshine, woooah -- and don't it feel good!"
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