FicWad

Gerard POV

A single crimson tear seeped from the wound which was self inflicted on my wrist. The swift carved line screaming at my intoxicated state. I grasped the half empty vodka bottle which was laying next me, and twisted the cap, letting the burning liquid slide down my throat. I took another swig. Leaving trails of blood along the outside of the glass I knocked back a few pills.

Fuck… I needed something to take the pain away.

My head started pounding and my eyes blurred, obscuring my vision. My shaking fingers curled around the rim of the sink, forcing my weak body to stand. My red aching eyes stared at the reflection in the mirror, skimming across the face of an outcast. A stray strand of greasy black hair fell in front of my bleak complexion, covering my bloodshot eyes.

"What the hell is the fucking point?" I whispered to myself. "Oh yeah, there is no point. No one likes me, my family hate me, I have no friends, and I'm a failure and an outcast. I deserve this. I deserve the pain, if I was a decent human being people would respect me." I looked darkly into my reflection.

"I might as well fucking end it" I spat angrily.

An unrecognisable sensation interrupted my thoughts as my head focused sharply at my screwed up wrists. I traced the intricate cuts with my finger tip, following the lines along my veins. My other hand reached for the razor blade. I held it tightly in the palm of my hand, accidently cutting myself. An overwhelming feeling of anger and disgust hit me savagely; I squeezed my hand into a fist and rapidly made contact with the mirror. Shards of glass exploded, pieces of it sticking awkwardly out of my knuckles. I screamed as loud as I could, my own voice became obfuscated among the abuse I've been through.

I collapsed to the floor, fiercely colliding my fists to the tiled floor, shaking hysterically. My throat seemed to close up, leaving me struggling to breath. I gasped for air, panicking. My heart was pounding and I could hear it in my ears, my pulse echoing around in my body. I tried to calm myself down by attempting to control my breathing, and it soon dwelled on me I was having another panic attack.

I use to suffer from them severely when I was younger, until I was put on medication, but I don’t need those stupid pills no more…I’m fine. I just haven’t been in the right frame of mind recently, I think Mikey (my brother) has noticed, but I reassure him I’m not relapsing.

I’m not relapsing.

I wiped the tears of my face, leaving blood on my cheek. I felt faint and my breathing was still abnormal, I whimpered and realized how much I have let myself and Mikey down, I was so weak.

"Pathetic" I laughed uneasily.

I was officially losing it. My whole body suddenly heaved from the excruciating pain escaping from my wrists and hands. My face contorted in agony and I seized the liquor which I abandoned on the floor, anything to dumb the pain and the anguish. I guzzled from the nearly empty bottle, cradling it like it was the only thing in the universe which cared for me. Exhausted, I dropped the bottle on the floor, smashing it in the process.

I didn't care. Why should I care when no one else does? I could feel my eyes closing; I weakly picked myself up and attempted to carry myself to my bedroom in the basement.

‘Gee...what’s up? I heard you scream, you look ill, have y-‘Mikey’s eyes widened in horror and he saw the mess I have carved on my wrists, the warm blood trickling down my knuckles, joining up with blood from the gash in my hand, then dripping to the floor.

I staggered on the spot as I tried to focus my eyes on Mikey, but I was bent double and I couldn't see straight, the lack of constant oxygen making the pills and the alcohol worse.

‘Gee I thought…you said…it was all getting better…’ Mikey whimpered, frozen on the spot.

He was fairly tall, with a skinny frame, and glasses which kept sliding down his nose. His mousy hair was messy, and sticking up at awkward angles, but somehow neatly framing his face. He looked unusually pale and he was playing with the frayed sleeve of his Misfits hoody. He took a step forward to concentrate on the damage, not noticing the fact I was fucked of my face. His eyes flickered over to the open door of the bathroom. The tiles were smudged with blood, broken glass was scattered over the floor and the mirror was destroyed. Mikey jolted into action and raced down the stairs, as I tilted my head back onto the wall of the landing and slid down it, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

I heard the faint clatter of the medicine cabinet and then a panicking Mikey appear from the top of the stairs, bandages, pills and kitchen paper to hand. I lifted my heavy head at the blurry boy, and smiled slightly. I was so incredibly lucky to have Mikey; if Mom found out any of this she would definitely send me back to the hospital…

I’m not dealing with that shit again.

Mikey lifted my bleeding hand from my chest and started to mop the floor and wrap it up with the bandages, glancing at me nervously every now and again.

‘Gee listen to me; I’m going to take you to your room okay? Just put your arm around my shoulder and we’ll do this together…’

Mikey helped me get up from the floor and led me down the stairs to my bedroom door. I pushed him drunkenly of me and cocked my head to the side and stared at him, furrowing my eyebrows. Mikey nervously bit his lip, he knew what was coming.

‘What the fuck Mikes…’

‘Gerard please don’t do this, just go into your room and rest okay? I’ll take care of-‘

‘Are you fucking patronizing me now little brother? I don’t need any fucking help, just fuck off and leave me alone.’ I slurred, my mind fuzzy.

‘Have you been drinking again?’ Mikey asked, raising his voice slightly.

‘Yes I fucking have Mikey, and you know what? I’m going to drink and drink and drink. I’m fed up of all this shit. I’m old enough to look after my fucking self, I don’t need your pity.’ I snapped.

Disheartened and slightly ashamed, Mikey looked down at his shoes. We do not speak as much anymore, I normally lock myself in my room drawing or I’m at school. We used to be so close, but he deserves better than me, he’s so extraordinary and smart, he doesn’t need the burden of looking after me dragging him down.

He is use to my mood swings, but I don’t talk anymore, I’m selectively mute I suppose, it’s better that way, I don’t get into as much trouble that way.

‘Gerard I know you don’t want any help, but I still love you, I still want to help…’ He spoke calmly, it wasn’t his fault.

I nibbled at my lip and began fumbling with my door, choosing to ignore Mikey. I heard a sigh and light footsteps leading towards the top of my stairs. Shaking my head, I managed to open the door and I hushed it closed behind me, sliding the lock into place.

It was extremely dark, only the most thin beam of light guiding me to my bed. Stumbling I walked to my bed, and sat on the edge, my head in my hands. I closed my restless eyes, regretting what I just said. Then it hit me. I'm a mess… Why did I let it get to me again? I don't even have to guts the end it properly. But does anyone notice or care? I sighed heavily and clutched the discarded pack of cigarettes which were on my bed side table. Shakily flicking my zippo open, I lit it, breathing in the warm cancerous smoke into my lungs; I breathed it out softly, letting the scent corrupt my senses. I closed my eyes again, thoughts whirling around in my messed up head.

"I'm just a corpse counting faces among the living, I was always dead".

'GERARRD ARTHUR WAY GET YOUR ASS OUT OF BED YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR SCHOOL'.

Oh god. My mother screeching does not help my hangover. Rubbing my pounding head I pulled my black duvet over my head. I better get up; I can’t miss another day of school. I muttered to myself as I flung myself out of bed, cursing as I tripped over discarded clothes and comics.

What even happened last night?

Something caught my eye. The bandage wrapped around my hand and wrists, red splodges dotting the cotton. Shit. I looked up gingerly at the mirror hanging on my wall, collecting dust. I hated my reflection. My pale green eyes infused with brown specks were dim and blood shot, my hair uncontrollable. I tried to hide my disgust with smudging eyeliner messily under my eyes.

Fumbling through my drawers I chucked on a once white shirt and a black coat, slipping into some black skinnies. I swear I’ve lost more weight…Whacking on some socks and my grubby black converses I dragged myself up from the basement and into the kitchen, flicking the switch on the kettle.

Yawning, I looked through the post abandoned on the dining room table. Junk mail, a couple of leaflets, another bill my mum couldn't afford to pay and a letter sent to the wrong address. Throwing the letters back down, I grabbed a mug and poured the boiling water into it and mixed it with the coffee, sipping it delicately.

I fucking love coffee.

‘Good morning sweetie, have a good sleep?’ My Mom chirped happily. I shrugged and nibbled my fingernails.

‘Gerard that’s an awful habit… Mikey good morning! Risen from the dead have we? I hope you’re more talkative than this zombie.’

I looked up gingerly at Mikey, he looked angry, but I was too stubborn to apologise.

‘I had a great sleep thanks Mom, how did you sleep?’

I rolled my eyes and grabbed my pack of cigarettes, ignoring their pointless chit chat.

‘Aren’t you going to have a bite to eat Gerard? You’re looking awfully thin.’ My Mom questioned, glaring worriedly at my skinny frame. Shaking my head I flung my rucksack over my shoulder, exiting the house.

'I won’t be home tonight sweetie, working late, there are a couple of pizza’s in the freezer for you and your brother, please try and eat something.' She shouted, trying to get some sort of communication from me.

I mumbled a goodbye and began trudging along the side walk. As I stepped beside the fetid puddles and passing pedestrians, light specks of white fell softly from the dark sky, before dissolving on the ground.

I hate snow.

Zipping up my coat even more I watched my converses walk slowly towards the alley. The lamps were still on, but slightly dimmer as the sun struggled to escape through the thick mist of clouds. I held a cigeratte to my mouth and lit it, the burning copper ashes floating in the winter air. I inhaled deeply. Closing my eyes slightly I started panicking a little bit more every step towards that hell hole they call a school.

'Hey faggot!' I ignored it.

'Oi my mates talking to you!' Ignored again

'Leave him alone man, arrogant little fuck, we’ll just get him later, it’s too early.'

‘Fuck that lets get him now, fucking freak.’ I rolled my eyes, pretending not to care.

‘Wait up you ignorant little shit!’

My heart started pounding again as I heard the familiar laughter and jeers of Brett and his below immature clique, their footsteps becoming faster and louder.

Shit.

I started running too.

I ran as fast as I could, trying to block out the constant threats and abuse they were throwing my way. My breathing began to deepen and tears spurted down my face.

I didn't want to hear it anymore.

I turned a corner sharply, pushing myself through brambles and stray braches until I couldn't go on. I halted. My tear stained face flicked around my new surroundings.

It felt safe, secure. The canopies of trees were bare, with no sign of life or colour. Disintegrating leaves scattered the floor, hugging my shoes. More white flakes fell around my body. I concentrated on each snowflake, reaching my hand up to touch them. The warmth of my body made them melt; I didn't think something that beautiful could last in the hands of something this ugly. Feeling tears well up in my eyes, I shakily opened my bag and appeared with a water bottle.

Vodka, and lots of it.

Twisting the cap and dropping it on the floor I guzzled from the plastic. I nearly gagged at the strength. But I knew I would need to be as intoxicated as I could be to go face school today. I hazily threw the empty bottle into the bushes, and began twisting the cap to my second. Feeling my eyes getting heavier, I lit another cigeratte. Nothing like a morning drink to cure a hangover. I desperately didn’t want to go to school, so I could skive again, but I'm so behind, even in Art and that's my favourite subject. Embedding the imprint of my hand on the damp soil beneath me, I picked myself up.

'Fuck my life'. I cursed.


Frank POV

'FRANK YOU SHOULD HAVE BE OUTTA THE HOUSE 5 MINUTES AGO'. My dad yelled. I could tell by the way he slurred he words he was drunk. Great…

I rubbed my eyes and squinted at the sun bursting through my window. Conveniently, my bedroom window is placed just where the sun decides to say good morning to me at 7 fucking am.

Who the fuck wants to get up that early?!

Mid rage I considered it would be best to get up. Flinging myself out of bed I walked zombie-like to the bathroom. Switching on the shower, I watched the mirror fog up with condensation, before drawing stick men in it. The fucking shower takes for ever to warm up. My dad is supposed to be getting a new boiler...Ha.

I decided this would be the time to spark up a joint, it was only another new school, I might as well be high for it. Taking a long, thoughtful drag I blew the smoke out, and tried to recite what lessons I have today. Maths, Science, Art, English and History – what a fucking drag.

I have to move schools a lot, I get into a lot of fights. I never start them, it’s the fucking popular kids who think it’s funny to tease the 5’4 kid with dyed black and red hair and piercings. The whole gay thing doesn’t help the teasing either, no one knows, but people guess due to me wearing makeup…It’s only eyeliner what’s the fucking problem? My dad definitely doesn’t know…that would not end well.

Homophobia is fucking gay.

Anyway they transferred me to Belleville High School in New Jersey, I don’t mind, I’m just expecting another shithole. I took the last burn of my joint and docked it out in the sink, and stepped in the shower.

Yes I sleep naked. Problem?

Smelling fruity I grabbed a towel and made my way back to my bedroom, which was covered in band posters, clothes, fag ends and beer cans. Loving life. I supposedly am a clean freak, well hygienically I am but recently I just can not be bothered. Lack of motivation to be honest.

'Frank for fucks sake you can’t be late for a new school!’ My Dad bellowed, which I ignored. 'YOU'RE LATE AGAIN EVERY FUCKING DAY'

'Dad... FUCK OFF.'

'DON'T YOU DARE TALK TO BE LIKE THAT...'

I took in a deep breath in, shit, why did I have to back chat him? I was awaiting the loud footsteps to begin their decent up the stairs to my bedroom, but it was eerily silent. He’s probably passed out…thank god.

I grabbed some black skinnies and a white shirt, whilst shoving on a pair of red converses. I don't know why I bother; I'm going to receive a beating anyway, but I suppose I might as well look good for it, I might see someone who I like? Ha. Who the fuck would like someone like me….

I glanced at the time; hmm I should be in Chemistry right now. Oh well.

Doing my tie in quick succession I sleepily went downstairs, lighting a cigeratte as I walked. Pouring myself a cup of coffee I glanced over to the living room. My dad looked more peaceful passed out on the sofa. What a tit.

My mum died a few months back from a drug overdose. So too cope my dad started taking drugs and drinking a lot. Then I started to do the same. I shouldn't be, I suffer from depression and I used to be on a lot of medication, but I don’t really take them anymore, I’m used to feeling like shit, anyway I self medicate.

I looked in the mirror before I went out the door, flicking my black bangs in front of my bruised eye, and smoothing out the red side of my hair. My big eyes looked too innocent, so I took some red eyeliner out of my pocket and carefully drew some one. There, I’m not going to hide who I am, they are probably more respectable at this new school. Oh and the bruise is from my Dad….

I think I'm always a bit too light hearted with the life I'm living. I never take anything seriously. Apart from drugs…I take them very seriously, maybe to seriously. But I need them, it chills me out, if it wasn’t for that joint earlier I would be freaking out.

Sparking up I began to walk to school. I’m already half an hour late, that is not a good start, I’m sure they’ll get used to it.

It was snowing and very cold, I don’t mind, I think it’s quite beautiful actually, the way the dark thundering sky compliments the white flakes, it’s intriguing. Digging my hands a little deeper into my pockets I looked up at my new school.

The steel gates looked daunting, towering over my skinny figure. The building itself looked very old, but no too shabby. Shuffling slowly along the sidewalk I considered skipping school. But if I did they would ring home, my dad would answer and he wouldn't' be very happy…. I shuddered at the thought of it.

Swaying from side to side outside the gates I heard a boy bickering with another behind me.

‘Gerard for Gods sake. Mom always treats you so lovely and you ignore her all the time! Listen Gee, we’re worried about you…I’m worried you…Have you been drinking again?!’ The boy questioned.

I couldn’t see properly due to how dark it was, all I saw was this tall thin figure clutching the arms of another. The boy in question shrugged and the tall one flipped him off, before leaving him on the sidewalk and coming towards school. I looked at the school once more whilst my mind was debating with itself whether to go in or not.

Nibbling my silver lip ring I turned to walk away, and managed to stumble face first into the boy who was arguing with the other boy called Gerard.

‘Oh shit...I’m sorry I-I didn’t mean t-‘ I stuttered apologetically,

‘No worries man, it’s cool, no harm done! Hey are you new?’ The boy spoke warmly, and smiled sympathetically.

He was quite good looking to say the least, with mousy brown hair covered in a black beanie hate, but with a slight side fringe framing his thin face. He wore glasses which kept sliding down his nose, and hazel eyes which looked at me intensely. His shirt hung limply on him, but I could only see a slither of white as he was wearing a black Misfits top, which was frayed on the sleeve. This kid must be decent, the Misfits are fucking crazy! He was cute I suppose, but not my type, well I do not really have a type, but there was no spark.

‘Sorry, yes I am, I’m Frank.’ I answered politely, but pretty blunt.

Shit what if he doesn’t like me?

‘Stop saying sorry!’ The boy chuckled. ‘I’m Mikey Way, what lesson have you got first?’ He questioned. Mikey seems nice.

‘Sorry!’ I blurted out alarmed, Mikey giggled and tilted his head, waiting a reply from me.
‘I have Chemistry now; I have no fucking idea where it is though. What about you?’ I said, trying to act more laid back. Fuck I’m a twat sometimes…

‘Ahh cool, I’m show you man, I have English, but my brother Gerard has Chemistry in S17, we could meet up at break if you like, I’ll introduce you to my mates, just meet right here after second lesson, what’s you mobile number if you don’t mind me asking?’ I nodded and we quickly exchanged phone numbers.
Wow, I actually have a friend!
I sound so gay…typical.
Oh god….what if he’s a homophobe!
I’ll have to keep this secrete...
I can’t loose Mikey, I’ve done so well!
That sounded lame.
He called over his brother Gerard, and the boy staggered over to where we were standing.

I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as him in my whole life.