Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > A Little Piece of Heaven
A/N: Finally!
Frank's skin sliced open with ease, and fresh, red blood poured from the deep cut in which he had inflicted upon himself. He knew it would stay, and never heal, but the pain he felt in his heart was too much. He needed a release from from what he believed to be a meaningless existence. Every move Frank made was with effort. Every breath he took was a chore. If he were alive, he would have killed himself by then. There's only so much a man can take.
Frank was, as usual, sat upright in his small bed, with the curtains closed and the light off. Frank never understood why they even had windows in the first place, all you could see outside of them was darkness. The nurses had told him never to go outside. "It's too dark." They had said. "You will get lost forever. It is forbidden." Frank had only snorted, and told them to fuck off. He had become rather rude of late, but who could blame him? He was dead, and that in itself confused the man to pieces. He was dead, and he had been murdered. Frank was sure of this by now. What other theory could explain the hand sized bruises around his neck? He had come to terms with it...as much as a dead man could. Frank wondered often about his killer. He had dreamt up many situations in which he could have been killed. In one, Frank was mugged, in another raped, and in another, strangled to death by a thief. His mind buzzed with possibilities and ideas.
Frank was never a God-believing man. But he found himself praying often, when he wasn't self harming, although not necessarily to a God. Sometimes he prayed to his wife, sometimes to his band mates. Sometimes even, he prayed to Carl. In his "prayers", he would mumble whatever came to his mind. Thoughts, feelings, emotions, fears. It comforted Frank a little, to imaging that his wife, band mates, and family could hear him, and were there for him.
Frank sighed, and bandaged his cut up with an old tissue quickly. He then leaned back against his headboard, sighed louder, and began to murmur another prayer.
*****************
Gerard was careful this time around. He glanced around nervously as he made his way down to the basement, his eye twitching and dancing madly. It was the day after Jamia's visit, and Gerard had heard nothing more from the vile woman. Which pleased him greatly. Gerard found her disgusting and ugly, and his distaste for her was so immense, he would have rather had a thousand needles pierce his skin than to even fuck her for a few minutes. Gerard often had imagined Jamia with Frank, in bed, and the image created by his mind made him gag. Of course, Frankie was beautiful in Gerard's eyes. But then the image of Jamia, and her dirty, foul body, and Frank inside of her, it just made Gerard want to drive a knife through his eye socket. But for some reason, when Jamia has entered his house, Gerard had felt a huge surge of emotion go through him. He had felt...drawn to Jamia almost, not to mention the fact that as soon as she touched him, a thousand voices entered his mind. All screaming one name. Frank. Looking back on it, Gerard had been completely powerless. It was almost like Frank was controlling him...
The strange voices and whispers in Gerard's head had receded slightly, although there was always a constant, dull drone. This drone caused Gerard to bash his head into literally anything he could find, at any given moment, it caused him to do unspeakable things to himself, and had already drove him to do something Gerard never wanted to think of again. But still, the memories came of that fateful evening when Gerard cut a hole in his dear friend's chest, and scooped out the putrid insides. Gerard shuddered as he recalled bringing the red, wet heart to his lips. He gagged, and leant against the wall for support. Gerard had never wanted or desired to do what he did. The never ending voices drove him to it, they told him to EAT IT. Gerard could not help but to comply. It had taken 4 long hours to finish, and by the time he was done, Gerard had thrown up 20 times over the cold basement floor.
Gerard pushed the memories from his mind, and tried to focus on what he was about to do. He hadn't been in the basement since he had torn open Frank's chest, and the corpse was still lying on the dirty, vomit covered floor. Gerard needed to clean up, as much as he didn't want to.
He opened the door to the basement, and for the first time noticed the foul and sweet smell that lingered in the air. It was putrid, it smelt like blood, rotting fish, shit and semen, all in one. Gerard grunted in disgust and wrinkled his nose, but soon found himself almost suffocated by the oder. He switched on the lights, the sudden brightness causing him to sheild his eyes for a moment. Then, he saw Frank. The pale, bloody corpse lying on the floor where Gerard had left it a few days earlier, with bulging eyes and rotting, sweet smelling flesh, and the giant empty hole in it's chest. The pounding in Gerard's head grew louder, as he stared at the once beautiful Frank, wide eyed in horror. The drone in his head once again began to sound like a voice, as Gerard staggered slowly closer to the body.
"Please...Jamia...miss you..."
The voice still rang in Gerard's ears. He could hear a man crying and moaning and begging. Gerard recognised it as Frank instantly.
"STOP IT! SHUT UP! LEAVE ME ALONE!" Gerard cried, holding his hands to his ears. "WHAT DID I DO?!" Gerard started to run to the nearest wall, seeking something to bash his head against, but slipped and fell on the vomit covered floor.
"Fuck...all I want is to see you...I need you...." Frank's voice droned on, louder than before.
Gerard screamed, and picked himself up off the floor, wiping vomit and blood from his face as he did so. He stumbled to the nearest wall, and began slamming his head against it with great force.
Yet, the voice continued. "All I want...to see you...be at peace..."
The wall cracked, and bits of plaster fell off, but Gerard continued. His face bled, his skin tore, his hair came out, he had long ago broken his nose. But still, Gerard continued.
Slowly, the voice got quieter, and eventually receded back to the constant dull drone Gerard had grown accustomed to. He stood, resting his beaten head against the wall, too scared and horrified to face the corpse behind him. Gerard's bloody lip trembled, and tears fell down his bruised cheeks. He hated it when those moments happened. It always seemed like Frank was talking to him, telling him that he wanted Jamia. Gerard collapsed to the floor of the foul smelling basement and buried his face in his hands.
Shakily, he got out his mobile phone, and dialled Jamia's number.
Frank's skin sliced open with ease, and fresh, red blood poured from the deep cut in which he had inflicted upon himself. He knew it would stay, and never heal, but the pain he felt in his heart was too much. He needed a release from from what he believed to be a meaningless existence. Every move Frank made was with effort. Every breath he took was a chore. If he were alive, he would have killed himself by then. There's only so much a man can take.
Frank was, as usual, sat upright in his small bed, with the curtains closed and the light off. Frank never understood why they even had windows in the first place, all you could see outside of them was darkness. The nurses had told him never to go outside. "It's too dark." They had said. "You will get lost forever. It is forbidden." Frank had only snorted, and told them to fuck off. He had become rather rude of late, but who could blame him? He was dead, and that in itself confused the man to pieces. He was dead, and he had been murdered. Frank was sure of this by now. What other theory could explain the hand sized bruises around his neck? He had come to terms with it...as much as a dead man could. Frank wondered often about his killer. He had dreamt up many situations in which he could have been killed. In one, Frank was mugged, in another raped, and in another, strangled to death by a thief. His mind buzzed with possibilities and ideas.
Frank was never a God-believing man. But he found himself praying often, when he wasn't self harming, although not necessarily to a God. Sometimes he prayed to his wife, sometimes to his band mates. Sometimes even, he prayed to Carl. In his "prayers", he would mumble whatever came to his mind. Thoughts, feelings, emotions, fears. It comforted Frank a little, to imaging that his wife, band mates, and family could hear him, and were there for him.
Frank sighed, and bandaged his cut up with an old tissue quickly. He then leaned back against his headboard, sighed louder, and began to murmur another prayer.
*****************
Gerard was careful this time around. He glanced around nervously as he made his way down to the basement, his eye twitching and dancing madly. It was the day after Jamia's visit, and Gerard had heard nothing more from the vile woman. Which pleased him greatly. Gerard found her disgusting and ugly, and his distaste for her was so immense, he would have rather had a thousand needles pierce his skin than to even fuck her for a few minutes. Gerard often had imagined Jamia with Frank, in bed, and the image created by his mind made him gag. Of course, Frankie was beautiful in Gerard's eyes. But then the image of Jamia, and her dirty, foul body, and Frank inside of her, it just made Gerard want to drive a knife through his eye socket. But for some reason, when Jamia has entered his house, Gerard had felt a huge surge of emotion go through him. He had felt...drawn to Jamia almost, not to mention the fact that as soon as she touched him, a thousand voices entered his mind. All screaming one name. Frank. Looking back on it, Gerard had been completely powerless. It was almost like Frank was controlling him...
The strange voices and whispers in Gerard's head had receded slightly, although there was always a constant, dull drone. This drone caused Gerard to bash his head into literally anything he could find, at any given moment, it caused him to do unspeakable things to himself, and had already drove him to do something Gerard never wanted to think of again. But still, the memories came of that fateful evening when Gerard cut a hole in his dear friend's chest, and scooped out the putrid insides. Gerard shuddered as he recalled bringing the red, wet heart to his lips. He gagged, and leant against the wall for support. Gerard had never wanted or desired to do what he did. The never ending voices drove him to it, they told him to EAT IT. Gerard could not help but to comply. It had taken 4 long hours to finish, and by the time he was done, Gerard had thrown up 20 times over the cold basement floor.
Gerard pushed the memories from his mind, and tried to focus on what he was about to do. He hadn't been in the basement since he had torn open Frank's chest, and the corpse was still lying on the dirty, vomit covered floor. Gerard needed to clean up, as much as he didn't want to.
He opened the door to the basement, and for the first time noticed the foul and sweet smell that lingered in the air. It was putrid, it smelt like blood, rotting fish, shit and semen, all in one. Gerard grunted in disgust and wrinkled his nose, but soon found himself almost suffocated by the oder. He switched on the lights, the sudden brightness causing him to sheild his eyes for a moment. Then, he saw Frank. The pale, bloody corpse lying on the floor where Gerard had left it a few days earlier, with bulging eyes and rotting, sweet smelling flesh, and the giant empty hole in it's chest. The pounding in Gerard's head grew louder, as he stared at the once beautiful Frank, wide eyed in horror. The drone in his head once again began to sound like a voice, as Gerard staggered slowly closer to the body.
"Please...Jamia...miss you..."
The voice still rang in Gerard's ears. He could hear a man crying and moaning and begging. Gerard recognised it as Frank instantly.
"STOP IT! SHUT UP! LEAVE ME ALONE!" Gerard cried, holding his hands to his ears. "WHAT DID I DO?!" Gerard started to run to the nearest wall, seeking something to bash his head against, but slipped and fell on the vomit covered floor.
"Fuck...all I want is to see you...I need you...." Frank's voice droned on, louder than before.
Gerard screamed, and picked himself up off the floor, wiping vomit and blood from his face as he did so. He stumbled to the nearest wall, and began slamming his head against it with great force.
Yet, the voice continued. "All I want...to see you...be at peace..."
The wall cracked, and bits of plaster fell off, but Gerard continued. His face bled, his skin tore, his hair came out, he had long ago broken his nose. But still, Gerard continued.
Slowly, the voice got quieter, and eventually receded back to the constant dull drone Gerard had grown accustomed to. He stood, resting his beaten head against the wall, too scared and horrified to face the corpse behind him. Gerard's bloody lip trembled, and tears fell down his bruised cheeks. He hated it when those moments happened. It always seemed like Frank was talking to him, telling him that he wanted Jamia. Gerard collapsed to the floor of the foul smelling basement and buried his face in his hands.
Shakily, he got out his mobile phone, and dialled Jamia's number.
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