Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Fire Fly
Still haven't decided with auditions, gonna try to make up my mind soon. While you wait enjoy the second chapter!xx
Chapter 2
Fire Fly’s POV
My worst nightmare at this moment had come to life. My father, Gerard Fucking Way had come home, and I was there to see it.
“Oh hey Dad, what brings you to this neck of the woods?” I tried to say sarcastically, my voice failing me.
“You have TONS of explaining to do young lady.” He said sternly. C’mon Jenna, get it together! I thought to myself.
“Why would I have to explain myself to something that isn’t even there?” I said, picking at my nail varnish pretending as though I didn’t care. I could tell he was at a loss for words.
“Just because I go on tour doesn’t mean I’m not there!” He said, a tone of hurt in his voice. Suddenly the curtain opened, and Frank came walking confidently in.
“There’s my girl!” He said, wrapping his un-bandaged around my shoulder. I was still his girl even though I was 15 and he had children, although he was only in is early 20’s, while my dad was in his 30 something’s as well as my Mom.
“Frank! This is NOT the time!” He said through gritted teeth.
Frank mumbled a ‘Sorry..’ and stepped back.
“You are in loads of trouble young lady!” He said, putting on a mock angry face, making Dad shake his head.
“I think it’s time YOU explain why you’re here.” I said, turning the situation around.
Dad pointed over to Frank, who just stood there grinning as usual.
“Now why are YOU here!?” He asked angrily. I took a deep breath to explain yet another fight, when the angels finally came to my rescue, his cell phone went off.
“Hello!” He said harshly, “I think it’s best if you pay a visit to the Northern California Hospital. Okay, bye.” He said, the whole time glaring straight at me figuring out ways to get away with murder in a hospital.
“Care to explain, or shall we wait for your two, stricter, more responsible uncle’s?”
“Hey!” Shouted Frank, obviously offended.
“I guess we’ll be waiting then.” I said with obvious sass in my voice.
“Fine with me. Pull up a chair Frank.” He said, grabbing the one inside the curtained area and positioning it right beside me, Frank grabbing the one (with his non broken arm) from their curtained area and bringing it over.
After 15 minutes of awkward silence Frank finally broke the dead silence.
“How ‘bout a nice game of sherades to pass the time?”
When he saw our matching death stares, he immediately bowed his head and shut up.
“So how was tour?” I asked Frank, breaking the tension, and making some small talk with him, trying to exclude my Father as much as possible.
Finally Uncle Mikey and Uncle Ray entered the room with the nurse, her opening the curtain completely, as the area was to small for all of us. Not that it mattered, since Oliver was passed out stone cold and the only sound his bleeping monitor.
“Hi Uncle Mikes, Uncle Ray. Fancy meeting you here.” I said, Uncle Frank giggling.
“What. Did. You. Do. Now.” Uncle Mikey said, staring right at me, and I felt as though he was staring straight into my vary soul.
“No worries, I’m still alive aren’t I?”
“Of course we’re worried! You look like a crack whore!” Said Gerard, finally hitting a nerve. If only he knew.
“Maybe you’re seeing me for what I really am.” I said, staring at the space between Mikey and ray. There was this silence following what I said, the kind of silence when you ask your parents “Are you mad at me?” And they tell you “I’m not mad, I’m disappointed.” Which always breaks your heart into little pieces. Yeah, I’ve heard that before, tons of times. But nothing compared to being called what I was.
“I-I need some coffee.” Said Mikey, leading the way of the rest of my Uncle’s to the cafeteria, leaving me and my Father, my least favorite out of all of them.
He just sat there, staring at the ground underneath my stretcher.
“I’ve failed you.” He said, still spaced out.
“You can’t fail if you’ve never tried or succeeded in the first place.” I said cruelly. The thing is, he deserved it. He left us for months; me left to take care of my bi-polar Mother. I was the one to try and rid her of her sleepless, tearless, nights when my Father hided behind his music, Bandit hiding behind her books. But I gave up when I was 13. I found something to hide behind. I hid behind the constant drugs, alcohol, partying and rock and roll. My Mother had her pills now, I had my parties. He had his music, Bandit had her school, he had his music.
So I started cocaine. Weed was too little of a rush. It went from weed, to cocaine, to booze and pills, to everything. Crack would be my favorite. Ending up in hospitals with minor cuts and bruises was a little downside.
I couldn’t stand here and wait with him. The one I loathed. The reason I would be going from couch to couch on the days he was home. I knew I was the mistake; they only wanted Bandit. I was the screw up. Even as a little girl it was always about Bandit. How smart, kind, talented, popular she was. This only drove me to fuck up more, how she was the perfect child. I remembered the first time my parents were mad at me.
Flashback
“Oh bandit! You look so cute in the pink dress!” my father said as he ran up the driveway to pick her up and twirl the 7 year old around.
“Daddy do you like mine?” I said in my little squeky, uncertain voice.
“Of course honey.” He said plainly as he walked up our long 3 car driveway up to my Mother.
“Hey Baby.” He said giving her a kiss on the cheek. I could feel the rain starting to drizzle onto my raven black hair. I ran as fast as my little size 1 feet could take me to catch up. I went inside with my seemingly loving family, and me and Bandit went over to our play area.
“Daddy liked my dress better!” She said, sticking her tongue out to me.
“He liked mine just as much!” I said, anger and tears welling up in my eyes.
“Who would ever like yours; he doesn’t even love you. He told Mommy you were an accident. Who wants an accident?” She said cruelly. I could feel my anger burning deep inside my stomach. I didn’t know how to stop it.
I grabbed a toy firetruck, and smashed it straight into Bandit’s little face, drawing blood.
“Oh my god Gerard!” Momma yelled, picking up the little devil. Daddy picked me up and brought me straight into the empty spare room, even worse than the punishment corner.
“Daddy are you mad at me?” I said tears welling in my eyes, my Jersey accent coming out.
“I’ve never been more disappointed. I guess you really were a mistake.” He said as he slammed the door. I fell down, defeated.
If disappointment is what he what he wanted, he would get it from now on.
Chapter 2
Fire Fly’s POV
My worst nightmare at this moment had come to life. My father, Gerard Fucking Way had come home, and I was there to see it.
“Oh hey Dad, what brings you to this neck of the woods?” I tried to say sarcastically, my voice failing me.
“You have TONS of explaining to do young lady.” He said sternly. C’mon Jenna, get it together! I thought to myself.
“Why would I have to explain myself to something that isn’t even there?” I said, picking at my nail varnish pretending as though I didn’t care. I could tell he was at a loss for words.
“Just because I go on tour doesn’t mean I’m not there!” He said, a tone of hurt in his voice. Suddenly the curtain opened, and Frank came walking confidently in.
“There’s my girl!” He said, wrapping his un-bandaged around my shoulder. I was still his girl even though I was 15 and he had children, although he was only in is early 20’s, while my dad was in his 30 something’s as well as my Mom.
“Frank! This is NOT the time!” He said through gritted teeth.
Frank mumbled a ‘Sorry..’ and stepped back.
“You are in loads of trouble young lady!” He said, putting on a mock angry face, making Dad shake his head.
“I think it’s time YOU explain why you’re here.” I said, turning the situation around.
Dad pointed over to Frank, who just stood there grinning as usual.
“Now why are YOU here!?” He asked angrily. I took a deep breath to explain yet another fight, when the angels finally came to my rescue, his cell phone went off.
“Hello!” He said harshly, “I think it’s best if you pay a visit to the Northern California Hospital. Okay, bye.” He said, the whole time glaring straight at me figuring out ways to get away with murder in a hospital.
“Care to explain, or shall we wait for your two, stricter, more responsible uncle’s?”
“Hey!” Shouted Frank, obviously offended.
“I guess we’ll be waiting then.” I said with obvious sass in my voice.
“Fine with me. Pull up a chair Frank.” He said, grabbing the one inside the curtained area and positioning it right beside me, Frank grabbing the one (with his non broken arm) from their curtained area and bringing it over.
After 15 minutes of awkward silence Frank finally broke the dead silence.
“How ‘bout a nice game of sherades to pass the time?”
When he saw our matching death stares, he immediately bowed his head and shut up.
“So how was tour?” I asked Frank, breaking the tension, and making some small talk with him, trying to exclude my Father as much as possible.
Finally Uncle Mikey and Uncle Ray entered the room with the nurse, her opening the curtain completely, as the area was to small for all of us. Not that it mattered, since Oliver was passed out stone cold and the only sound his bleeping monitor.
“Hi Uncle Mikes, Uncle Ray. Fancy meeting you here.” I said, Uncle Frank giggling.
“What. Did. You. Do. Now.” Uncle Mikey said, staring right at me, and I felt as though he was staring straight into my vary soul.
“No worries, I’m still alive aren’t I?”
“Of course we’re worried! You look like a crack whore!” Said Gerard, finally hitting a nerve. If only he knew.
“Maybe you’re seeing me for what I really am.” I said, staring at the space between Mikey and ray. There was this silence following what I said, the kind of silence when you ask your parents “Are you mad at me?” And they tell you “I’m not mad, I’m disappointed.” Which always breaks your heart into little pieces. Yeah, I’ve heard that before, tons of times. But nothing compared to being called what I was.
“I-I need some coffee.” Said Mikey, leading the way of the rest of my Uncle’s to the cafeteria, leaving me and my Father, my least favorite out of all of them.
He just sat there, staring at the ground underneath my stretcher.
“I’ve failed you.” He said, still spaced out.
“You can’t fail if you’ve never tried or succeeded in the first place.” I said cruelly. The thing is, he deserved it. He left us for months; me left to take care of my bi-polar Mother. I was the one to try and rid her of her sleepless, tearless, nights when my Father hided behind his music, Bandit hiding behind her books. But I gave up when I was 13. I found something to hide behind. I hid behind the constant drugs, alcohol, partying and rock and roll. My Mother had her pills now, I had my parties. He had his music, Bandit had her school, he had his music.
So I started cocaine. Weed was too little of a rush. It went from weed, to cocaine, to booze and pills, to everything. Crack would be my favorite. Ending up in hospitals with minor cuts and bruises was a little downside.
I couldn’t stand here and wait with him. The one I loathed. The reason I would be going from couch to couch on the days he was home. I knew I was the mistake; they only wanted Bandit. I was the screw up. Even as a little girl it was always about Bandit. How smart, kind, talented, popular she was. This only drove me to fuck up more, how she was the perfect child. I remembered the first time my parents were mad at me.
Flashback
“Oh bandit! You look so cute in the pink dress!” my father said as he ran up the driveway to pick her up and twirl the 7 year old around.
“Daddy do you like mine?” I said in my little squeky, uncertain voice.
“Of course honey.” He said plainly as he walked up our long 3 car driveway up to my Mother.
“Hey Baby.” He said giving her a kiss on the cheek. I could feel the rain starting to drizzle onto my raven black hair. I ran as fast as my little size 1 feet could take me to catch up. I went inside with my seemingly loving family, and me and Bandit went over to our play area.
“Daddy liked my dress better!” She said, sticking her tongue out to me.
“He liked mine just as much!” I said, anger and tears welling up in my eyes.
“Who would ever like yours; he doesn’t even love you. He told Mommy you were an accident. Who wants an accident?” She said cruelly. I could feel my anger burning deep inside my stomach. I didn’t know how to stop it.
I grabbed a toy firetruck, and smashed it straight into Bandit’s little face, drawing blood.
“Oh my god Gerard!” Momma yelled, picking up the little devil. Daddy picked me up and brought me straight into the empty spare room, even worse than the punishment corner.
“Daddy are you mad at me?” I said tears welling in my eyes, my Jersey accent coming out.
“I’ve never been more disappointed. I guess you really were a mistake.” He said as he slammed the door. I fell down, defeated.
If disappointment is what he what he wanted, he would get it from now on.
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