Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Poison
I don't have a lot of time to explain, but for me school's almost over (I get out on the 11th) and tomorrow I'm leaving for a three-day field trip to Chicago. I don't know what this has to do with anything, as I'm not missing an important update on here or anything (although when I get back, I'll have three days worth of posts on my dash to scroll through on Tumblr). Which reminds me- hey I just met you and this is crazy, but here's my "Tumblr":http://society9.tumblr.com/, follow me maybe?
No?
...Okay then.
The Poison
Chapter Sixteen
I am going away for a while
But I'll be back, don't try and follow me
I woke up to Gerard staring me straight in the face, a sleepy smile on his face.
“Morning, sunshine.” he whispered, gently brushing a stray hair over my ear.
“Morning.” I answered, suddenly losing all the will to get out of bed. I had a splitting headache (I couldn’t have gotten a hangover from the minuscule amount of alcohol I drank, could I?), my whole body ached, and I knew exactly how the rest of the day would go if I so much as moved. Despite my possible hangover, my father’s phone call still hung clearly and ominously over my head.
Gerard probably had the same idea, because he made no move to get out of bed either. We both stared at each other for a good few minutes, indulging in our laziness.
“You know we’re gonna have to move at some point, right?” he finally said, attempting to prop himself up on his elbow, then giving up and flopping back down.
“I know,” I murmured. “I’m just putting it off for as long as possible.”
“Good idea.” he smiled, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms lazily around my waist.
I burrowed deeper into his chest, breathing in the scent of coffee and cigarettes, wishing fervently that this wasn’t the end. But it was, and there was nothing I could do about that. I broke away from his embrace, resolving that the sooner this was done, the less painful it would be.
“Where’re you goin’?” Gerard slurred, grabbing the hem of my shirt.
“For a walk.” I lied. “I kinda need to figure something out.”
Gerard chuckled. “I can’t believe that after all this, you’re still gonna report me to the police.”
“I’m not going to turn you in, Gerard.” I laughed. “I promise. Here.”
I leaned down and planted a quick kiss on his lips, only to be pulled back down into the bed and hugged possessively into Gerard’s bare chest, lips cemented to his. His tongue wormed into my mouth and he let out an animalistic snarl, grabbing the back of my head with surprising force. Normally, I would’ve enjoyed a passionate kiss such as this, but the fact that this might be the last I’d ever share with him didn’t sit well in my stomach. I pushed him away gently, trying to grin against the incoming tears.
“Down, boy.” I said. “We can continue this later.”
As soon as I said that, I regretted it. How much later? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? The fucking afterlife? Here I was again, making promises I couldn’t keep, and probably destroying someone very near and dear to me in the process. At the very least, I should be honest with him.
I walked out into the kitchen, grabbing a pen and a pad of paper.
Dear Gerard.
I know this is really sudden, but something came up that is too complicated to explain in a letter. It involves my father, and something I’ve needed to come to terms with for a long time. As you read this, I’m pretty sure you’re thinking this is your fault. It’s not. You’re literally the world to me, and if I had the choice to stay, I would.
I love you. I promise I’ll see you again someday.
I don’t know what else to say to comfort you.
Atropine.
I placed the note on the table, gritting my teeth and my heart. Why did this have to be so hard? I counted the steps to the front door, leaning heavily on it before opening it to the big, ugly world.
Here it was. My past, which was now going to be my future. Abuse, abuse, abuse. Lies, lies, lies. No more love and caring for me. It was all over.
It felt like a spiritual death of sorts, going back down into the flames after spending mere minutes of breathing in smoke-free air, and burning to death. The worst part was that I knew this would happen all along.
I knew this moment would come.
I just didn’t know it would be so hard.
-.-.-
The wind whipped harshly through my hair, chilling my face and ears and stinging my eyes. I folded my arms and leaned down into the gale, speeding along the sidewalk and trying not to look back at the towering house that was once my home. I broke into a directionless run, hoping muscle memory would bring me back to my house, or- even better- lead me off a cliff into the ocean. I just wanted to die, hang myself high and leave the stupid, emotional world behind. I can’t tell you how much I wanted to be a Vulcan or a robot at that moment- do what was logical and ignore what instinct tells you. Then, I wouldn’t have to care about juvenile desires.
I wouldn’t have to care about Gerard.
It sounds heartless and cruel, but really? What has love done for me?
It’s given you true happiness, great friends, and a reason to live. A voice in the back of my head snaps. It’s done everything that your family couldn’t do for you. And yet, you’re throwing it all away.
That alone was enough to sway me. I very nearly turned back, but another voice reminded me of my father’s phone call. If I went back, I’d be putting everything I loved in jeopardy. So what was worse? Leaving behind my closest friends to let them rot away with guilt, or have them incarcerated? I didn’t know. My heart told me to go running back into Gerard’s arms, but my brain said to grin and bear the abuse. I could handle it for three more years. I could occasionally visit Gerard and Mikey and Alicia to keep the crawling need at bay. I could- and for Gerard’s sake, would- survive.
That probably would’ve been more effective if I hadn’t been standing in front of my own house as I decided it. The house itself was entirely unimposing- tiny, two bedroom, more of a shack than anything else- but the people who inhabited it were a different story. I was unsure of whether I would live to see another day in that house, and considering how my father has probably gone about five months without abusing someone, I’d be in for a solid beating. Wonderful.
I bit my lip and bowed my head, hands locked in front of me like an inmate on his way to his execution, unable to lift my head and see my own father dearest waiting on the front steps for me. My Converse scraped against the gravel, leaving traces of brown against the grey. Left, right, left, right, whatever you do, don’t look up.
But I betrayed the last command, raising my head just enough to observe the nightmare of a man that had caused me to flee in the first place- Wayne Alvarenga, the y-axis that created me. He, in turn, stared me, his biggest rape-born mistake, down into the ground.
“Atropine.” he said. “Nice of you to finally come back. Your mother’s missed you.”
Without warning, he stepped down in front of me and sniffed my shoulder, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
“You reek of his semen.” he hissed, gritting his teeth. “You’re just like Helena. A second hand fuck. A whore.”
I jolted at his words, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes, though I probably shouldn’t have expected any better.
No words could describe how much I wished to be back with Gerard.
But I’d gone too far to turn back now. Besides, if I did turn my back on my father, I could expect to have a buck shot lodged in my head.
“Get inside.” My father roughly grabbed my shoulder and dragged me up the steps and into the front room of the house. There, my mother, Helena, sat at the dining table, small, curled deeply into herself, timid- just as I remembered her.
“Atropine.” she said, her voice barely reaching a whisper. “You came back.”
She reached for her glass of water, hands trembling. I notices a long line of bruises along her arm as she did so, all of them purple and angry. Had he been beating her while I was gone?
That made my stomach lurch, and not in a good way. I didn’t want to imagine what she had been through- no wonder she had wanted me back so badly. When there were two of us, the abuse was a bit more bearable.
I sat down at the table with her, staring intently at the swirling patterns in the wood. My hands fidgeted uselessly, my mouth open and soundless. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I didn’t know whether my presence made things better or worse- worse for me, better for dad, probably.
My head jerked up suddenly as I felt a gentle hand brushing through my hair. My mother started as well, instantly removing her hand from my head, her brown eyes larger than before, if that was possible. I looked back down, disappointed.
For a second, I thought she was Gerard.
As my hands and feet were doing nothing interesting, I returned my gaze to the room around me- Helena shrinking as far into her seat as possible, and Wayne imposingly leaning by the front door. Was this broken pair of people my parents? It was pathetic, to think that they were supposed to be my family, the ones who cared for me and made sure I was brought up well.
Funny, how a former preacher and his brother was more of a family to me than my own birth parents. I had had another life back with Gerard and Mikey, had lived through an entire lifetime in only four or five months that my parents couldn’t give me in fourteen years.
I guessed that lifetime was used up now, shriveled and dry; unusable. I had to go back to my old life now, the one that could hardly be considered a life.
I bit my lip angrily. Hooray for reality.
What would happen now? No one had made an action to speak or move for what seemed like nearly fifteen minutes, and no one seemed to want to. That was one more thing I could add to the list of things I hate about my family- the impermeable silences, the never ending awkwardness. I hoped that someone would say something sometime soon, because it was beginning to get a little suffocating. I looked down at the table, my hands, the blank walls, the floor, anywhere but at my mother, who was no doubt looking twice as fearful as before. With my father, silence meant he was thinking, which most likely meant he was upset about something, which means he was going to take it out on either me or Helena... which was bad for the both of us.
I started to hyperventilate, fearing the worst. What if he had decided to kill me, right here, right now? What if he was planning on beating me nearly to death with some horrible instrument of torture? What if...
“I’m going out.”
Those were the magic words that broke the spell, spoken by my father. True to his word, he left quickly without a jacket, en route to a nameless bar where he’d get plastered and come home violent... oh well. At least it granted me a few hours of peace- time to figure out how I would be able to survive the next few years.
I rested my head in my hands, silently moaning into them. So many tough decisions had to be made at such a young age. Everyone said that teen years were always about self-discovery and having fun- whoever made that up can go fuck themselves, because they obviously don’t remember being a teenager themselves.
But then, most teenagers didn’t have to deal with illicit relationships and abusive fathers.
Suddenly, for no reason at all, I wondered if my room was the same way it was when I left. Small mattress, drab comforter, battered dresser- had they gotten rid of it all? Or, in hopes that I would return someday, had they kept it? I stood up and walked down the short hall to my bedroom door, which was still adorned with stickers and sloppy paint letters from when I was little. I felt a slight twist in my stomach as I opened the door, unknowing of what was behind it.
I was greeted by tired green walls, sloping inwards towards the center of the room from the stress of the roof. The floor was still no-longer-white carpeting, spattered here and there with paint and water stains, sometimes even my own blood. My mattress and dresser were both still there, but both bare and empty- the mattress stripped of all sheets and the dresser void of any clothing. It was like a room for a dead girl, bare, with no personal belongings.
The perfect room for me.
I slowly sat down on the mattress, sinking into a well-worn depression in the foam. My hands rested casually on my knees, and I could just see the woods through my grimy window. Speckled green leaves tapped gently on the glass, morphing into an erratic drumbeat, matching the pace of my speeding heart. I felt tears prick at my eyes and my throat tighten, face already crumpling into an ugly mask. Biting hard on my lower lip, I managed to keep my cries silent, letting the tears spill over and ruin my already damaged face without a sound.
I wanted to cry until my eyes fell out- that was the only thing that would be enough to express the grief I felt. When had I become so dependent on someone else? I was Atropine, for fuck’s sake! I trusted no one with my secrets, my weaknesses, my shortcomings… my heart.
And yet, I still went and freely gave all these to a rapist.
What had I done?
Exhaustion crashed down on me and I rolled over onto the sheetless mattress, knees covering most of my face. I stayed in that position as I gradually dozed off into dreamland, eyes sliding shut.
I was awake enough, though, to hear my mother coming into the room, and feel her hand tentatively stroking my hair.
“Atropine.” She whispered in a tremulous voice. “I know I’ve been a terrible mother all these years, but I hope I can make it up to you. I promise, I won’t let him hurt you anymore as long as I live. I promise.”
At the last word, her voice cracked and she dissolved into small, broken sobs. Her hands continued petting my hair, quaking more and more with each passing second.
“I promise.”
At that moment, nearly completely asleep and eyes half-closed, I could have sworn I saw a twinkling of blue behind her shoulder.
Lyrics from Misguided Ghosts, by Paramore.
A few more things before I must depart to pack my various doodads for the trip- I also have this story posted on several other websites, should one of them (or this one) have some huge data crash. The original, version where I posted The Poison first is "here":http://quizilla.teennick.com/my/profile, on Quizilla. The latest posting is on "Mibba":http://www.mibba.com/Member/284878/. They both have slightly different elements- Quizilla is the 'rougher' version, while I made more edits on this and Mibba's version, and it's more visual, with banners and stuff. It also looks longer than on here ^^; The Mibba posting is one I suggest you check out, because I have pictures of what I imagine the characters to look like on there, so it helps as a visual aid. I also have character backstories.
And "this":http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l3myFYmw9MI song is awesome. As is the band.
No?
...Okay then.
The Poison
Chapter Sixteen
I am going away for a while
But I'll be back, don't try and follow me
I woke up to Gerard staring me straight in the face, a sleepy smile on his face.
“Morning, sunshine.” he whispered, gently brushing a stray hair over my ear.
“Morning.” I answered, suddenly losing all the will to get out of bed. I had a splitting headache (I couldn’t have gotten a hangover from the minuscule amount of alcohol I drank, could I?), my whole body ached, and I knew exactly how the rest of the day would go if I so much as moved. Despite my possible hangover, my father’s phone call still hung clearly and ominously over my head.
Gerard probably had the same idea, because he made no move to get out of bed either. We both stared at each other for a good few minutes, indulging in our laziness.
“You know we’re gonna have to move at some point, right?” he finally said, attempting to prop himself up on his elbow, then giving up and flopping back down.
“I know,” I murmured. “I’m just putting it off for as long as possible.”
“Good idea.” he smiled, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms lazily around my waist.
I burrowed deeper into his chest, breathing in the scent of coffee and cigarettes, wishing fervently that this wasn’t the end. But it was, and there was nothing I could do about that. I broke away from his embrace, resolving that the sooner this was done, the less painful it would be.
“Where’re you goin’?” Gerard slurred, grabbing the hem of my shirt.
“For a walk.” I lied. “I kinda need to figure something out.”
Gerard chuckled. “I can’t believe that after all this, you’re still gonna report me to the police.”
“I’m not going to turn you in, Gerard.” I laughed. “I promise. Here.”
I leaned down and planted a quick kiss on his lips, only to be pulled back down into the bed and hugged possessively into Gerard’s bare chest, lips cemented to his. His tongue wormed into my mouth and he let out an animalistic snarl, grabbing the back of my head with surprising force. Normally, I would’ve enjoyed a passionate kiss such as this, but the fact that this might be the last I’d ever share with him didn’t sit well in my stomach. I pushed him away gently, trying to grin against the incoming tears.
“Down, boy.” I said. “We can continue this later.”
As soon as I said that, I regretted it. How much later? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? The fucking afterlife? Here I was again, making promises I couldn’t keep, and probably destroying someone very near and dear to me in the process. At the very least, I should be honest with him.
I walked out into the kitchen, grabbing a pen and a pad of paper.
Dear Gerard.
I know this is really sudden, but something came up that is too complicated to explain in a letter. It involves my father, and something I’ve needed to come to terms with for a long time. As you read this, I’m pretty sure you’re thinking this is your fault. It’s not. You’re literally the world to me, and if I had the choice to stay, I would.
I love you. I promise I’ll see you again someday.
I don’t know what else to say to comfort you.
Atropine.
I placed the note on the table, gritting my teeth and my heart. Why did this have to be so hard? I counted the steps to the front door, leaning heavily on it before opening it to the big, ugly world.
Here it was. My past, which was now going to be my future. Abuse, abuse, abuse. Lies, lies, lies. No more love and caring for me. It was all over.
It felt like a spiritual death of sorts, going back down into the flames after spending mere minutes of breathing in smoke-free air, and burning to death. The worst part was that I knew this would happen all along.
I knew this moment would come.
I just didn’t know it would be so hard.
-.-.-
The wind whipped harshly through my hair, chilling my face and ears and stinging my eyes. I folded my arms and leaned down into the gale, speeding along the sidewalk and trying not to look back at the towering house that was once my home. I broke into a directionless run, hoping muscle memory would bring me back to my house, or- even better- lead me off a cliff into the ocean. I just wanted to die, hang myself high and leave the stupid, emotional world behind. I can’t tell you how much I wanted to be a Vulcan or a robot at that moment- do what was logical and ignore what instinct tells you. Then, I wouldn’t have to care about juvenile desires.
I wouldn’t have to care about Gerard.
It sounds heartless and cruel, but really? What has love done for me?
It’s given you true happiness, great friends, and a reason to live. A voice in the back of my head snaps. It’s done everything that your family couldn’t do for you. And yet, you’re throwing it all away.
That alone was enough to sway me. I very nearly turned back, but another voice reminded me of my father’s phone call. If I went back, I’d be putting everything I loved in jeopardy. So what was worse? Leaving behind my closest friends to let them rot away with guilt, or have them incarcerated? I didn’t know. My heart told me to go running back into Gerard’s arms, but my brain said to grin and bear the abuse. I could handle it for three more years. I could occasionally visit Gerard and Mikey and Alicia to keep the crawling need at bay. I could- and for Gerard’s sake, would- survive.
That probably would’ve been more effective if I hadn’t been standing in front of my own house as I decided it. The house itself was entirely unimposing- tiny, two bedroom, more of a shack than anything else- but the people who inhabited it were a different story. I was unsure of whether I would live to see another day in that house, and considering how my father has probably gone about five months without abusing someone, I’d be in for a solid beating. Wonderful.
I bit my lip and bowed my head, hands locked in front of me like an inmate on his way to his execution, unable to lift my head and see my own father dearest waiting on the front steps for me. My Converse scraped against the gravel, leaving traces of brown against the grey. Left, right, left, right, whatever you do, don’t look up.
But I betrayed the last command, raising my head just enough to observe the nightmare of a man that had caused me to flee in the first place- Wayne Alvarenga, the y-axis that created me. He, in turn, stared me, his biggest rape-born mistake, down into the ground.
“Atropine.” he said. “Nice of you to finally come back. Your mother’s missed you.”
Without warning, he stepped down in front of me and sniffed my shoulder, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
“You reek of his semen.” he hissed, gritting his teeth. “You’re just like Helena. A second hand fuck. A whore.”
I jolted at his words, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes, though I probably shouldn’t have expected any better.
No words could describe how much I wished to be back with Gerard.
But I’d gone too far to turn back now. Besides, if I did turn my back on my father, I could expect to have a buck shot lodged in my head.
“Get inside.” My father roughly grabbed my shoulder and dragged me up the steps and into the front room of the house. There, my mother, Helena, sat at the dining table, small, curled deeply into herself, timid- just as I remembered her.
“Atropine.” she said, her voice barely reaching a whisper. “You came back.”
She reached for her glass of water, hands trembling. I notices a long line of bruises along her arm as she did so, all of them purple and angry. Had he been beating her while I was gone?
That made my stomach lurch, and not in a good way. I didn’t want to imagine what she had been through- no wonder she had wanted me back so badly. When there were two of us, the abuse was a bit more bearable.
I sat down at the table with her, staring intently at the swirling patterns in the wood. My hands fidgeted uselessly, my mouth open and soundless. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I didn’t know whether my presence made things better or worse- worse for me, better for dad, probably.
My head jerked up suddenly as I felt a gentle hand brushing through my hair. My mother started as well, instantly removing her hand from my head, her brown eyes larger than before, if that was possible. I looked back down, disappointed.
For a second, I thought she was Gerard.
As my hands and feet were doing nothing interesting, I returned my gaze to the room around me- Helena shrinking as far into her seat as possible, and Wayne imposingly leaning by the front door. Was this broken pair of people my parents? It was pathetic, to think that they were supposed to be my family, the ones who cared for me and made sure I was brought up well.
Funny, how a former preacher and his brother was more of a family to me than my own birth parents. I had had another life back with Gerard and Mikey, had lived through an entire lifetime in only four or five months that my parents couldn’t give me in fourteen years.
I guessed that lifetime was used up now, shriveled and dry; unusable. I had to go back to my old life now, the one that could hardly be considered a life.
I bit my lip angrily. Hooray for reality.
What would happen now? No one had made an action to speak or move for what seemed like nearly fifteen minutes, and no one seemed to want to. That was one more thing I could add to the list of things I hate about my family- the impermeable silences, the never ending awkwardness. I hoped that someone would say something sometime soon, because it was beginning to get a little suffocating. I looked down at the table, my hands, the blank walls, the floor, anywhere but at my mother, who was no doubt looking twice as fearful as before. With my father, silence meant he was thinking, which most likely meant he was upset about something, which means he was going to take it out on either me or Helena... which was bad for the both of us.
I started to hyperventilate, fearing the worst. What if he had decided to kill me, right here, right now? What if he was planning on beating me nearly to death with some horrible instrument of torture? What if...
“I’m going out.”
Those were the magic words that broke the spell, spoken by my father. True to his word, he left quickly without a jacket, en route to a nameless bar where he’d get plastered and come home violent... oh well. At least it granted me a few hours of peace- time to figure out how I would be able to survive the next few years.
I rested my head in my hands, silently moaning into them. So many tough decisions had to be made at such a young age. Everyone said that teen years were always about self-discovery and having fun- whoever made that up can go fuck themselves, because they obviously don’t remember being a teenager themselves.
But then, most teenagers didn’t have to deal with illicit relationships and abusive fathers.
Suddenly, for no reason at all, I wondered if my room was the same way it was when I left. Small mattress, drab comforter, battered dresser- had they gotten rid of it all? Or, in hopes that I would return someday, had they kept it? I stood up and walked down the short hall to my bedroom door, which was still adorned with stickers and sloppy paint letters from when I was little. I felt a slight twist in my stomach as I opened the door, unknowing of what was behind it.
I was greeted by tired green walls, sloping inwards towards the center of the room from the stress of the roof. The floor was still no-longer-white carpeting, spattered here and there with paint and water stains, sometimes even my own blood. My mattress and dresser were both still there, but both bare and empty- the mattress stripped of all sheets and the dresser void of any clothing. It was like a room for a dead girl, bare, with no personal belongings.
The perfect room for me.
I slowly sat down on the mattress, sinking into a well-worn depression in the foam. My hands rested casually on my knees, and I could just see the woods through my grimy window. Speckled green leaves tapped gently on the glass, morphing into an erratic drumbeat, matching the pace of my speeding heart. I felt tears prick at my eyes and my throat tighten, face already crumpling into an ugly mask. Biting hard on my lower lip, I managed to keep my cries silent, letting the tears spill over and ruin my already damaged face without a sound.
I wanted to cry until my eyes fell out- that was the only thing that would be enough to express the grief I felt. When had I become so dependent on someone else? I was Atropine, for fuck’s sake! I trusted no one with my secrets, my weaknesses, my shortcomings… my heart.
And yet, I still went and freely gave all these to a rapist.
What had I done?
Exhaustion crashed down on me and I rolled over onto the sheetless mattress, knees covering most of my face. I stayed in that position as I gradually dozed off into dreamland, eyes sliding shut.
I was awake enough, though, to hear my mother coming into the room, and feel her hand tentatively stroking my hair.
“Atropine.” She whispered in a tremulous voice. “I know I’ve been a terrible mother all these years, but I hope I can make it up to you. I promise, I won’t let him hurt you anymore as long as I live. I promise.”
At the last word, her voice cracked and she dissolved into small, broken sobs. Her hands continued petting my hair, quaking more and more with each passing second.
“I promise.”
At that moment, nearly completely asleep and eyes half-closed, I could have sworn I saw a twinkling of blue behind her shoulder.
Lyrics from Misguided Ghosts, by Paramore.
A few more things before I must depart to pack my various doodads for the trip- I also have this story posted on several other websites, should one of them (or this one) have some huge data crash. The original, version where I posted The Poison first is "here":http://quizilla.teennick.com/my/profile, on Quizilla. The latest posting is on "Mibba":http://www.mibba.com/Member/284878/. They both have slightly different elements- Quizilla is the 'rougher' version, while I made more edits on this and Mibba's version, and it's more visual, with banners and stuff. It also looks longer than on here ^^; The Mibba posting is one I suggest you check out, because I have pictures of what I imagine the characters to look like on there, so it helps as a visual aid. I also have character backstories.
And "this":http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l3myFYmw9MI song is awesome. As is the band.
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