Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Two men, dressed in leather, pulled the squirming, screaming teenager to a blood-stained chair. Another man, dressed identical to the other two, bound the boy's arms and legs with harsh, skin-destroying cord.
"Frank." The word came from nowhere, but the voice that formed it was silky, soft, smooth. Out of the burgeoning shadow that cowered in the corner came a man. The boy, Frank, gasped to himself when he realized who it was. Beside the man was yet another black figure. This one held a large gun and a small suitcase.
"This man has a suitcase full of bullets and a gun. We're going to play a.... game." The older man chuckled when he saw the chair and it's owner squirm in discontent.
"Load, Anthony," he whispered to the man beside him. Seating himself in a nearby velvet loveseat, the older, pale man watched as his best friend loaded his gun and began shooting at the boy. Bullets lodged themselves in his arms and legs, his cheeks and his lower regions.
"Just kill him." The command was chilling. Frank's tears streamed down his bullet-riddled cheek and mixed with scarlet blood. He said a small prayer as the black-clad gunman loaded his gun a final time. With a fleeting glance at the loveseat's occupant, Anthony shot at the crying teenager and suddenly the room was quiet.
"Leave." The older man walked forward and examined the bloody boy on the chair. Another one bites the dust, he thought to himself as he stroked the boy's blood-soaked, matted hair.
"Goodbye, Frankie," Gerard Way said quietly to the dead boy before pressing a tender kiss to his boyfriend's lips.
Before the blonde man left, he sunk his teeth into the dead boy's neck, sucking all of the blood left in his dying body.
"Blood is sharp," he whispered before picking up a gun and holding it to his temple.
It's short as fuck but eh, I wrote it before I wrote "The First Murder" (aka third chapter of Little Doll's Eyes) and my brother actually did tie me to a chair but shot me with Nerf bullets and when I got up all the bullets surrounding the chair looked really really amazing so I decided to make a vampire Frerard out of it.
-Jinxxy xxxx
"Frank." The word came from nowhere, but the voice that formed it was silky, soft, smooth. Out of the burgeoning shadow that cowered in the corner came a man. The boy, Frank, gasped to himself when he realized who it was. Beside the man was yet another black figure. This one held a large gun and a small suitcase.
"This man has a suitcase full of bullets and a gun. We're going to play a.... game." The older man chuckled when he saw the chair and it's owner squirm in discontent.
"Load, Anthony," he whispered to the man beside him. Seating himself in a nearby velvet loveseat, the older, pale man watched as his best friend loaded his gun and began shooting at the boy. Bullets lodged themselves in his arms and legs, his cheeks and his lower regions.
"Just kill him." The command was chilling. Frank's tears streamed down his bullet-riddled cheek and mixed with scarlet blood. He said a small prayer as the black-clad gunman loaded his gun a final time. With a fleeting glance at the loveseat's occupant, Anthony shot at the crying teenager and suddenly the room was quiet.
"Leave." The older man walked forward and examined the bloody boy on the chair. Another one bites the dust, he thought to himself as he stroked the boy's blood-soaked, matted hair.
"Goodbye, Frankie," Gerard Way said quietly to the dead boy before pressing a tender kiss to his boyfriend's lips.
Before the blonde man left, he sunk his teeth into the dead boy's neck, sucking all of the blood left in his dying body.
"Blood is sharp," he whispered before picking up a gun and holding it to his temple.
It's short as fuck but eh, I wrote it before I wrote "The First Murder" (aka third chapter of Little Doll's Eyes) and my brother actually did tie me to a chair but shot me with Nerf bullets and when I got up all the bullets surrounding the chair looked really really amazing so I decided to make a vampire Frerard out of it.
-Jinxxy xxxx
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