Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison
The Truth About Gerard
2 reviewsThe boys learn something about prison they couldn't summon up in their worst nightmares.
0Unrated
Okay, so I got some positive feedback for the first chapter, I really hope it's the same for this one too! Rates and reviews would be much appreciated!
The boys continued with their day as normally as possible after agreeing that they would bury the body that night. After all, it was all they could do, since even the mention of prison threw Gerard into an anxiety attack. Whatever happened to him to make him so fearful, they did not want happening to themselves, or to him again.
For most of the day, Gerard sat in his room sulking, as he did most days. The only sound that came from his room, also normal for him, was the sound of him trying to bang out his own tunes on a keyboard he could barely play. The boys had grown accustomed to this, seeing as Gerard couldn't play any other instruments and the only hobbies he'd taken up since getting out of prison- other than scaring the hell out of everyone in his path- were drawing and trying to write music. They just left him to it.
None of the other three had any desire to leave the house either. Frank spent hours wearing a path in the carpet in the living room, pacing back and forth, ranting about all the reasons he couldn't go to prison. Mikey sat quietly, as always, watching his friend's breakdown and considering all the things that could go wrong in their current situation. Ray locked himself away in his room, the sounds of him playing angry rock songs on the guitar mixing with the sounds of Gerard's poor keyboard playing. Then, out of nowhere, they heard a crash in Gerard's room and they all went silent. Next, his door swung open and he charged out, slamming it behind him. The next thing they knew, he was out the front door without leaving any indication of where he was going. Mikey normally knew better than to go into his brother's room- the last time he'd made that mistake, he refused to tell his friends what he saw in there that freaked him out so much- but this time he went just to see what he broke and if he'd have to replace it for him. Being careful not to look at the pictures and lyrics on the walls, Mikey glanced at the ground and saw Gerard had kicked over the keyboard, and all the lyrics and song sheets that had been sitting on it were scattered across the room. He quickly propped it back up and put the papers on his desk, making sure not to read the words. It was Gerard's business, and what he'd written were things he definitely wanted to imagine actually happening to him. But it could, if they were ever caught.
Mikey rushed out of the room as fast as he could. There was something incredibly awful about being in there, the one place where evidence of his brother's experiences in prison could be found. It was as if all that pain and fear had followed him back home and now just hung in the air. None of them liked being around it, because it managed to affect them all, and made them remember that something had happened to change Gerard. Something that could happen to them. He shook off the thought and focused whole-heartedly on listening to Frank's ranting. It was a much safer pastime.
Not even an hour later, they heard the front door open and slam shut, and in ran Gerard, beaming as if he'd just won the lottery. And while none of them would admit it if you asked them, they all shared the same thought- /oh crap; we must really be going to jail now. /After all, nothing got that boy's blood pumping like a good mugging, or something of that sort. For his sake though, they pretended to have a little more faith in him.
"What's got you so excited?" Mikey asked. Gerard unfolded a piece of paper and held it out in front of him proudly. Mikey took it from his hands and looked over it in shock.
"This is a registration form for the military," he said, dumbfounded. Gerard nodded and pulled out three more sheets, one for each of them. Each had one of their names printed in Gerard's sloppy handwriting on it. "You want us to join the army?" Gerard nodded again. "Why?" Gerard rolled his eyes, pulled out a marker, and started writing on Frank's forehead of all places. Ray did the honor of reading it.
"'Because, dumb ass, if we're in the army it'll be harder for them to trace us. It'll give us a decent alibi in case we are taken to court, and no jury in its right mind would convict a US soldier. They want to believe we're the good guys. So, if we go, our chances of getting out of this are better. Also, I'd much rather die in the war than in a prison cell,'" Ray read. "Well, aren't you a real ray of sunshine?" Gerard giggled. "Yea, yea, my name is Ray, I said ray of sunshine, will there ever come a time when you don't think that's funny?" Gerard shook his head.
"Gee, I still don't understand. How the hell is joining the military a better option? I mean, we'd be risking our lives, we'd have to go through months of training, you'd probably have to start speaking, we'd have to stop drinking," Mikey listed all the problems until he got to the worst. "Gerard, we'd have to cut our hair!" There was nothing more valued to these boys than their awesome hair. Ray's hands flew to his head, as if hoping to guard his fro. Gerard just shrugged.
"Forget it!" Frank, who had been silently panicking this whole time, finally exclaimed. "I'm not joining the army! I'd rather rot in prison the rest of my life, I mean, how bad could it really be?" Gerard now looked like he was going to burst a vein. His eyes had gone nearly black in his rage, and Frank braced himself for a serious ass-kicking.
"Frank, I think that was the wrong thing to say," Mikey remarked. Gerard grabbed the younger boy by his hair and started marching him toward his room. Ray and Mikey tried to follow, but Gerard shook his head. They weren't the ones who needed to see this. He dragged Frank into the room and slammed the door behind him.
Immediately upon entering, Frank squeezed his eyes shut. He knew Mikey didn't like going in there, and that there had to be a reason. He didn't want to know. Gerard smacked him on the back of the head and he opened his eyes. In the dim lighting, he could see drawings and writing all over the walls. Although he had to give Gerard props on being a good artist, the images before him were deeply disturbing. It seemed to form some sort of timeline, the drawings furthest down the wall being the earliest. The first ones showed a younger version of Gerard, his hair slightly shorter, his manner more easygoing and childish. All of them were either behind or in front of bars. It showed him glaring at the guards, the guards glaring right back. Pictures of him and his breaking and entering buddy getting into fights in the prison yard. Then, slowly, the images got even darker in nature. They depicted what went on after lights out, the way the guards ignored the prisoners' fear. Some showed Gerard as the victim, others showed him curled up with his hands over his ears, trying to block the sounds of some other unfortunate boy. Then came drawing after drawing of when he and his friend were attacked, each violent moment he lived through in black and white on the wall. After that, the fear and anxiety in each drawing became more pronounced, becoming stronger more rapidly. By the time he examined the last picture- one of Gerard when he came home looking like a whipped puppy, needing desperately for Mikey to forgive him- Frank felt as though he never wanted to speak again either, and he had only seen it. Gerard had lived it. But he wasn't finished with Frank quite yet, not even close. He pulled out a sheet from his desk and handed it to him. It was a song, complete with a melody, refrains, verses, the whole shebang. He then pulled Frank back out to the living room, where Ray and Mikey waited. Then he looked to Frank expectantly.
"You don't want me to sing do you?" Frank asked. Gerard nodded. "I can't." He passed the sheet to Ray.
"Well, I only know how to read music for guitar," Ray said, passing it on to Mikey.
"You all know I'm hopeless at singing, and I can only read music for bass." Gerard looked to Frank pleadingly. He never asked his friends for help, but this was something he couldn't do on his own. Frank knew that. Sighing, he took the sheet from Mikey.
"Fine. I'll sing it." With that, he took a deep breath, and began the song. "In the middle of a gun fight
In the center of a restaurant
They say "Come with your arms raised high"
Well they're never gonna get me
I'm like a bullet through a flock of doves
To wage, this war against your faith in me
Your life
Will never be the same
On your mother's eyes say a prayer
Say a prayer
Now, but I can't, and I don't know
How we're just two men as God had made us
Well I can't, well I can
Too much, too late, or just not enough of this pain in my heart
For your dying wish, I'll kiss your lips again
They all cheat at cards and the checkers are lost
My cellmate's a killer, they made me do push ups in drag
Well nobody cares if you're losing yourself
Am I losing myself?
I miss my mom, will they give me the chair?
A lethal injection, a swing from the rope if you dare
Oh nobody knows all the trouble I've seen
Now, but I can't, and I don't know
How we're just two men as God had made us
Well I can't, well I can
Too much, too late, or just not enough of this pain in my heart
For your dying wish, I'll kiss your lips again
To your room
What they ask of you, will make you want to say
So long, but I can't remember
Why remember you?
Do you have the keys to the hotel?
'Cause I'm gonna string this motherf*er on fire, fire
Life is but a dream for the dead
And well I, I won't go down by myself,
But I'll go down with my friends
Now, now, now, now
Now, now, now, now, now
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh" Everything about the room feelt cold as Frank finished singing. Everything about it was...wrong. Frank was a decent singer, but the meaning behind the lyrics- those sort of things shouldn't be true. People shouldn't think that way. To know what had happened, what could very well happen to them, it was enough to make them want to jump in a plane and fly off to fight that very second. Frank was the first to speak.
"Okay. We'll do it."
The boys continued with their day as normally as possible after agreeing that they would bury the body that night. After all, it was all they could do, since even the mention of prison threw Gerard into an anxiety attack. Whatever happened to him to make him so fearful, they did not want happening to themselves, or to him again.
For most of the day, Gerard sat in his room sulking, as he did most days. The only sound that came from his room, also normal for him, was the sound of him trying to bang out his own tunes on a keyboard he could barely play. The boys had grown accustomed to this, seeing as Gerard couldn't play any other instruments and the only hobbies he'd taken up since getting out of prison- other than scaring the hell out of everyone in his path- were drawing and trying to write music. They just left him to it.
None of the other three had any desire to leave the house either. Frank spent hours wearing a path in the carpet in the living room, pacing back and forth, ranting about all the reasons he couldn't go to prison. Mikey sat quietly, as always, watching his friend's breakdown and considering all the things that could go wrong in their current situation. Ray locked himself away in his room, the sounds of him playing angry rock songs on the guitar mixing with the sounds of Gerard's poor keyboard playing. Then, out of nowhere, they heard a crash in Gerard's room and they all went silent. Next, his door swung open and he charged out, slamming it behind him. The next thing they knew, he was out the front door without leaving any indication of where he was going. Mikey normally knew better than to go into his brother's room- the last time he'd made that mistake, he refused to tell his friends what he saw in there that freaked him out so much- but this time he went just to see what he broke and if he'd have to replace it for him. Being careful not to look at the pictures and lyrics on the walls, Mikey glanced at the ground and saw Gerard had kicked over the keyboard, and all the lyrics and song sheets that had been sitting on it were scattered across the room. He quickly propped it back up and put the papers on his desk, making sure not to read the words. It was Gerard's business, and what he'd written were things he definitely wanted to imagine actually happening to him. But it could, if they were ever caught.
Mikey rushed out of the room as fast as he could. There was something incredibly awful about being in there, the one place where evidence of his brother's experiences in prison could be found. It was as if all that pain and fear had followed him back home and now just hung in the air. None of them liked being around it, because it managed to affect them all, and made them remember that something had happened to change Gerard. Something that could happen to them. He shook off the thought and focused whole-heartedly on listening to Frank's ranting. It was a much safer pastime.
Not even an hour later, they heard the front door open and slam shut, and in ran Gerard, beaming as if he'd just won the lottery. And while none of them would admit it if you asked them, they all shared the same thought- /oh crap; we must really be going to jail now. /After all, nothing got that boy's blood pumping like a good mugging, or something of that sort. For his sake though, they pretended to have a little more faith in him.
"What's got you so excited?" Mikey asked. Gerard unfolded a piece of paper and held it out in front of him proudly. Mikey took it from his hands and looked over it in shock.
"This is a registration form for the military," he said, dumbfounded. Gerard nodded and pulled out three more sheets, one for each of them. Each had one of their names printed in Gerard's sloppy handwriting on it. "You want us to join the army?" Gerard nodded again. "Why?" Gerard rolled his eyes, pulled out a marker, and started writing on Frank's forehead of all places. Ray did the honor of reading it.
"'Because, dumb ass, if we're in the army it'll be harder for them to trace us. It'll give us a decent alibi in case we are taken to court, and no jury in its right mind would convict a US soldier. They want to believe we're the good guys. So, if we go, our chances of getting out of this are better. Also, I'd much rather die in the war than in a prison cell,'" Ray read. "Well, aren't you a real ray of sunshine?" Gerard giggled. "Yea, yea, my name is Ray, I said ray of sunshine, will there ever come a time when you don't think that's funny?" Gerard shook his head.
"Gee, I still don't understand. How the hell is joining the military a better option? I mean, we'd be risking our lives, we'd have to go through months of training, you'd probably have to start speaking, we'd have to stop drinking," Mikey listed all the problems until he got to the worst. "Gerard, we'd have to cut our hair!" There was nothing more valued to these boys than their awesome hair. Ray's hands flew to his head, as if hoping to guard his fro. Gerard just shrugged.
"Forget it!" Frank, who had been silently panicking this whole time, finally exclaimed. "I'm not joining the army! I'd rather rot in prison the rest of my life, I mean, how bad could it really be?" Gerard now looked like he was going to burst a vein. His eyes had gone nearly black in his rage, and Frank braced himself for a serious ass-kicking.
"Frank, I think that was the wrong thing to say," Mikey remarked. Gerard grabbed the younger boy by his hair and started marching him toward his room. Ray and Mikey tried to follow, but Gerard shook his head. They weren't the ones who needed to see this. He dragged Frank into the room and slammed the door behind him.
Immediately upon entering, Frank squeezed his eyes shut. He knew Mikey didn't like going in there, and that there had to be a reason. He didn't want to know. Gerard smacked him on the back of the head and he opened his eyes. In the dim lighting, he could see drawings and writing all over the walls. Although he had to give Gerard props on being a good artist, the images before him were deeply disturbing. It seemed to form some sort of timeline, the drawings furthest down the wall being the earliest. The first ones showed a younger version of Gerard, his hair slightly shorter, his manner more easygoing and childish. All of them were either behind or in front of bars. It showed him glaring at the guards, the guards glaring right back. Pictures of him and his breaking and entering buddy getting into fights in the prison yard. Then, slowly, the images got even darker in nature. They depicted what went on after lights out, the way the guards ignored the prisoners' fear. Some showed Gerard as the victim, others showed him curled up with his hands over his ears, trying to block the sounds of some other unfortunate boy. Then came drawing after drawing of when he and his friend were attacked, each violent moment he lived through in black and white on the wall. After that, the fear and anxiety in each drawing became more pronounced, becoming stronger more rapidly. By the time he examined the last picture- one of Gerard when he came home looking like a whipped puppy, needing desperately for Mikey to forgive him- Frank felt as though he never wanted to speak again either, and he had only seen it. Gerard had lived it. But he wasn't finished with Frank quite yet, not even close. He pulled out a sheet from his desk and handed it to him. It was a song, complete with a melody, refrains, verses, the whole shebang. He then pulled Frank back out to the living room, where Ray and Mikey waited. Then he looked to Frank expectantly.
"You don't want me to sing do you?" Frank asked. Gerard nodded. "I can't." He passed the sheet to Ray.
"Well, I only know how to read music for guitar," Ray said, passing it on to Mikey.
"You all know I'm hopeless at singing, and I can only read music for bass." Gerard looked to Frank pleadingly. He never asked his friends for help, but this was something he couldn't do on his own. Frank knew that. Sighing, he took the sheet from Mikey.
"Fine. I'll sing it." With that, he took a deep breath, and began the song. "In the middle of a gun fight
In the center of a restaurant
They say "Come with your arms raised high"
Well they're never gonna get me
I'm like a bullet through a flock of doves
To wage, this war against your faith in me
Your life
Will never be the same
On your mother's eyes say a prayer
Say a prayer
Now, but I can't, and I don't know
How we're just two men as God had made us
Well I can't, well I can
Too much, too late, or just not enough of this pain in my heart
For your dying wish, I'll kiss your lips again
They all cheat at cards and the checkers are lost
My cellmate's a killer, they made me do push ups in drag
Well nobody cares if you're losing yourself
Am I losing myself?
I miss my mom, will they give me the chair?
A lethal injection, a swing from the rope if you dare
Oh nobody knows all the trouble I've seen
Now, but I can't, and I don't know
How we're just two men as God had made us
Well I can't, well I can
Too much, too late, or just not enough of this pain in my heart
For your dying wish, I'll kiss your lips again
To your room
What they ask of you, will make you want to say
So long, but I can't remember
Why remember you?
Do you have the keys to the hotel?
'Cause I'm gonna string this motherf*er on fire, fire
Life is but a dream for the dead
And well I, I won't go down by myself,
But I'll go down with my friends
Now, now, now, now
Now, now, now, now, now
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh" Everything about the room feelt cold as Frank finished singing. Everything about it was...wrong. Frank was a decent singer, but the meaning behind the lyrics- those sort of things shouldn't be true. People shouldn't think that way. To know what had happened, what could very well happen to them, it was enough to make them want to jump in a plane and fly off to fight that very second. Frank was the first to speak.
"Okay. We'll do it."
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