Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Poison
For an MCR fanfiction, it's surprising I haven't used any of their songs as lyrics at the beginning of the chapters. Fitting, how when I finally do, it's the last one.
I meant to have this up sooner, but writer's block and high school orientation and schedule pickup (which are, for some stupid fucking reason, on different days- I know, my school system is retarded), as well as jet lag from my trip to New Mexico. I did write more than half of the chapter in NM in a notebook, but I couldn't find the inspiration to finish it until now.
::
The Poison
Chapter Twenty One
Can’t find my way home
But it’s through you and I know
That day hadn’t gone well at all. I couldn’t photocopy Natasha’s homework on time and I was yelled at in all of my classes (except English, where Ms. Macbeth just looked at me with a vaguely disappointed expression and told me to turn it in tomorrow, which I thought was worse than the yelling). It only got worse after the school day ended and I was harassed on the bus. Sharing the details isn’t something that needs to be discussed.
I came home tearful, but silent. I quickly retreated into my room as I always had in days past and worked diligently on my homework- at least until I was sure Wayne and Helena were asleep. Then, I ran to Gerard’s house to continue on the playset. It wasn’t always productive, only being able to work at night. Sometimes, in order to stay in bounds of my curfew of 4:30 in the morning, I could only work for a few minutes and then run back to my house, stealing a few meager hours of sleep before the bus came. And despite what others may say about such a small window of time, I believed every second was worth its weight in gold. However little it was that I did, at least it was something.
It had been some time since that day when I finally got over it, coincidentally the day I finally turned in the last of my makeup work as well as the day I turned fifteen- June 8th. It was also the exact day when school let out, but that’s a little less important.
I finished clearing out all the loose papers from my locker and turned to Ramya, who was already pulling me into a half-hug. Behind me, Natasha pounced on both of us. We stood in our awkward group hug for a minute, maybe longer. Ramya was to travel to England, along with the rest of her family for the entirety of the summer, which meant there would be no one around to protect the skinny freshmeat (read: me and Natasha).
“I’m gonna miss you both so much.” she said, sadness edging her voice.
Natasha hugged her tighter, nearly suffocating me between them.
“Say hi to Oliver Phelps for me, ‘kay?” she tried to smile, but failed. “I... I... god damn it, I’ll miss you too, Ramya!”
With that, she practically flung herself into Ramya’s arms, a tiny sniffle being the only sign that she was crying.
“I’m going to miss you, too.” I said quietly. “Too bad I don’t have a phone or anything. I could’ve called you.”
Ramya shook her head. “Wouldn’t have made a difference. I don’t have international coverage.” She sighed. “Oh well.”
A loud horn sounded from outside the building, followed by an equally noisy voice shouting my friend’s name.
“Oh, that’s my ride.” she said, already running for the front doors. “Bye guys!”
I half-heartedly waved goodbye over my shoulder as I checked my locker for anything else I might have missed. When I saw that there was nothing, I grabbed backpack and started towards the exit. Natasha tackled me with one of her infamous flying hugs before I could, though, and if she had been acting soft when Ramya had gone away for England, the waterworks were on full blast now.
“Natasha, I can’t miss the bus!” I exclaimed, trying hard to extricate myself from her vice-like grip.
“I know,” she answered, still refusing to let go. “But you didn’t say goodbye yet!”
I laughed a little and hugged her back. “Oh, right! Well, goodbye, don’t talk to strangers, don’t drink or do drugs, eat your vegetables, gotta go!”
As quickly as I could, I pulled myself up and ran for the bus loop, just barely catching my bus as it got ready to leave.
The bullying had subsided entirely for today. Most likely, everyone was so caught up in the end-of-the-school year festivities that they had completely forgotten about me. It was just as well- I needed peace to figure out how I was to survive this coming summer. Obviously I’d gotten through all the others mostly intact, but somehow I was sure that this one would be quite a lot different from all the others. I’d been missing for four straight months this time around, and I was certain I would pay dearly for it. There was also the matter of readjusting the schedule of my visits so that I wouldn’t run into my father on his way home from his nightly bar runs, and also being careful not to sleep in too late which would no doubt arouse some suspicion. I knew I would still be beaten, but late night visits to Gerard’s house would provide just enough comfort to pull me through.
I hoped.
The bus jerked to a stop and let off the first group of kids, effectively pulling me out of my silent scheming. I looked up to see if it was my stop (even though I was sure it wasn’t) and returned to my thoughts.
By the time my stop came, I had more or less figured everything out. Things would go just as they had before, exercising a little extra caution on the return trip being the only difference- why this had taken me so long to plan out, I didn’t know. It helped that it was now summer, though, as I could be more liberal with my curfew. Seeing as there’s no bus I have to catch, and all.
I climbed off the bus and headed towards my house. Out of habit (or concern for my personal safety) I went into my room as soon as the door slammed shut behind me. I also pulled out the scrap pieces of paper from my backpack as a force of habit, from when homework was the only thing to fill my hours with.
But there were no assignments for me to do. Nothing to pass the time.
And oddly enough, I found myself missing my schoolwork a little.
I never thought I would ever even think about thinking that in my life, but then again, a lot of things have happened to me lately that I have never expected.
Absently, I played with the hem of my skirt- the one that Gerard had given to me that first night. I wondered how neither of my parents had noticed my sudden wardrobe expansion, then quickly debunked that with a smirk, thinking that they were probably too busy hating one another to notice me.
I risked a peek outside my door- if no one was home, I could leave early and get much more time to work. Although that course of action ran the risk of an unscheduled meeting with Gerard (whom I still hadn’t plucked up the courage to speak to at that point), it was much more desirable than lazing around in my room as I waited for nightfall with nothing to do. I didn’t hear or see anything, but then again my vision was limited and I didn’t trust my ears to pick up softer movements. I coughed loudly and waited for a response. There was none. The coast was clear.
I stood up, carefully closed the bedroom door behind me and started towards the front door with caution. I had no velvet tread, but I could be quiet when I wanted to.
“Whoever he his, Atropine, I hope he’s worth your time.”
My back stiffened and I bit down hard on my lip to keep from crying out. The voice had been female- I knew that for sure- but I couldn’t imagine my mother ever letting me leave the house, which left her vulnerable to my father. I turned to her, trying to pretend I didn’t know what she was talking about but gave up after only half a second. Helena was perceptive. There was no lying around her.
“He is.” I said with conviction, because this was something I really believed in and suddenly I wanted her to believe it, too. “I know he is.”
She had a faraway look in her eyes as she reached out for me, pulling me into a hug, which unlike so many others we’d shared, wasn’t stiff and awkward and artificial.
“I hope so.” she breathed, then let me go.
I didn’t begin work until long after I had gotten to the house. For at least an hour I just stood in front of the house, trying to visualize how I could have seen it as so unfriendly back in January. It was beautiful. Even if no one had kept the construction on the playground going, they had certainly continued work on the house. I remember thinking that if he had any taste at all, he’d have painted the shutters over in navy blue- and he had. The windows gleamed under the light of the setting sun, the trim was now a bright white and was no longer chipped, and the grass was actually growing now, and had taken on a healthy green hue. The toolbox was still where I’d left it the last night and I retrieved it, trying to make as little noise as possible, and started work once more.
It wasn’t until then that I realized I was very close to being finished. About two nights’, or maybe only one’s worth of work left. It thrilled me, yet at the same time saddened me. The playground was the one thing I had left in life to look forward to. I didn’t want it to be over, which was actually kind of funny when I thought about it a little more- towards the beginning, that was all I wanted it to be. Finished. But now I wanted to stretch it out over weeks, months, maybe even forever. Because if I could never see Gerard again, I wanted to at least help him in my own secret way.
With that in mind, I slowed down work a considerable amount. I imagined that with how slow I was moving, potential passers-by would have thought I was a zombie. That made me smile, recalling how much Mikey and Alicia loved the Dawn of the Dead movies. But that quickly became a bittersweet memory, tinged with nostalgia.
I pushed it away. Even small recollections were big distractions here. I didn’t know what it was, but something here increased the potency of my emotions tenfold. Perhaps it was Lindsey, hiding somewhere here where I couldn’t see nor sense her.
The crickets slowly, steadily lulled me into a working trance, drowning out all other sounds of the night. The moon shone down on the house, giving it an almost spectral glow. With all the insects croaking, the moonlight, and the grass rustling in the light breeze, it could almost be considered peaceful.
But something put me off- why, I had no notion. I didn’t know how I knew, but I was sure that something would happen very, very soon. Something significant, that may change my life- for the better or for the worse, well, that was yet to come.
I put down the tools I was using, supposing it was time to head home.
And I did.
And I didn’t like what I found when I walked through the front door.
My father stood hunched and mean in the kitchen, the broken edge of a beer bottle grasped tightly in his hand. Helena cowered against the cabinets. Scratches already lay scattered across her face- I didn’t know how long he’d been at it. I didn’t want to know.
When the door shut, my father lurched around towards me, like a wild animal temporarily distracted from its prey by a gunshot. When he saw that it was me, his face cracked open into an ugly smile that I knew all too well.
“You,” he snarled viciously. “You still ‘aven’t learned yer lesson, have yeh? Little bitch!”
He lunged at me and I dodged, running over to Helena to assess her injuries when he was still distracted from running into the wall. Her scratched looked bad. I felt awful that I had been so selfish- she must have known something like this would happen to her tonight, yet she still let me go fulfill my self-serving tasks. How could I have been so blind?
My fists clenched into tight, tense balls. I felt the blood pumping through each vessel, each vein in each of my fingers. My fingernails dug harshly into my palms, but I hardly noticed. A red cloud of anger had slowly eclipsed my vision, and in that moment all I wanted was to make my father feel every ounce of pain, every single bit of bullshit that he’s put me and Helena through for seven years.
But when I turned back, he had already gotten back up, no doubt running like a coward from us.
“Dad?” I stopped myself. He was no father of mine. “WAYNE! YOU GET OUT HERE. NOW!”
I breathed heavily, spinning around in a circle. Helena stood frozen behind me, probably wondering who this violent maelstrom of a girl was and what she’d done with her daughter. I was so focused on finding my lying, beating, disgusting father that I hadn’t bothered looking behind me.
By the time I heard the crack and the scream it was too late. Helena dropped, a rivulet of blood flowing down the center of her forehead from the harsh blow Wayne had dealt her. I felt a gasp worming its way up my throat as I looked my father straight in the eyes and saw nothing but darkness there. He might have been a good man once, but that was all gone and he knew it, trying to escape it with alcohol and sex.
I silenced the gasp. I was afraid to fight him, but seeing my own mother dead on the floor had awakened anger anew in me.
I wanted to kill him.
I flew at him, an animalistic scream wrenching through the night. I grabbed him by the throat and tackled him to the ground, slamming his head again and again into the floor.
“YOU! You cheating, lying, stealing BASTARD! Fuck you! FUCK YOU!” the sounds coming from my mouth were unearthly, seven years of bottled-up rage all escaping in the same moment. Wayne’s face was slowing degrading into a bloody pulp below me and I knew he was dead but I still didn’t stop. I wasn’t finished paying him back. I got up off his body and started towards my parents’ bedroom. I knew there was a shotgun in there, fully loaded with ammo. I grabbed it without a second thought.
Now back in the kitchen, I turned off the safety and, bullet by bullet, reduced Wayne’s face to a mass of blood, muscle and bone. The sneering face that had tormented me for so long was gone now.
Haunt me no more. I said to his body, silently.
Then I sat down on the floor and cried for my mother until the sun rose.
Then I buried them in the backyard, planting a single daisy at each of their otherwise unmarked graves.
Now you must find Gerard.
I walked, stuffing my hands under my armpits as I did so- even though it was now officially summer it was barely dawn and still cold. My feet knew the way by memory, and I distracted myself from the long walk by singing.
Saints protect her now
Come angels of the lord,
Come angels of unknown
I sang it over and over again, imagining it to be the dirge sung at my parents’ funeral that would never occur. In some way, I tried to make that up to them.
When the sun neared the noon point in the sky, I stood solemnly in front of the house. My stomach churned, resembling concrete tossing in a washer. I walked up to the porch, raised my hand, and knocked.
I hoped to God it was Gerard that answered the door. I had so many things I needed to tell him.
“Yes?” a voice called from inside that sounded like Gerard but could have been Mikey. “Coming.”
The dark-haired, slender figure I knew so well opened the door but didn’t greet me, standing frozen- in shock or anger, I didn’t know. But I couldn’t help myself. I flung myself into his arms, streaming tears and telling him what happened through the cries.
“A...” he ran his hands through my hair, shushing me gently. “A, come here. It’s okay. Shhh...”
“I don’t have any family anymore.” I said in a hushed voice as the gravity of the situation finally hit me.
“But that isn’t true, Atropine.” another voice said, and I saw that Mikey, Alicia, Ray, Frank, Jamia, and someone who must have been Christa stood in the doorway as well, and even though no one else could see her, Lindsey was there too. “We’re your family now, okay?”
As I ran to my new family, I still felt Gerard’s arms around my waist, his thin fingers in my hair, and the warm breath next to my ear as he whispered, “I love you.”
::
As I finished typing this, I can’t help but think wow, because I’ve been working on this for a little over a year (though it may only seem like eight months to the rest of you), and I’ve finally gotten to say the end, with only an epilogue left to tie up loose ends (like what happened to the mouse, Lindsey? Don’t worry, she’s fine).
Also, I tried eating that Chobani Greek vanilla yogurt stuff. It does not taste like yogurt. More like, like, fermented cow fat or something. That’s what it smells like, too. (cringes) Ewwwww.
I meant to have this up sooner, but writer's block and high school orientation and schedule pickup (which are, for some stupid fucking reason, on different days- I know, my school system is retarded), as well as jet lag from my trip to New Mexico. I did write more than half of the chapter in NM in a notebook, but I couldn't find the inspiration to finish it until now.
::
The Poison
Chapter Twenty One
Can’t find my way home
But it’s through you and I know
That day hadn’t gone well at all. I couldn’t photocopy Natasha’s homework on time and I was yelled at in all of my classes (except English, where Ms. Macbeth just looked at me with a vaguely disappointed expression and told me to turn it in tomorrow, which I thought was worse than the yelling). It only got worse after the school day ended and I was harassed on the bus. Sharing the details isn’t something that needs to be discussed.
I came home tearful, but silent. I quickly retreated into my room as I always had in days past and worked diligently on my homework- at least until I was sure Wayne and Helena were asleep. Then, I ran to Gerard’s house to continue on the playset. It wasn’t always productive, only being able to work at night. Sometimes, in order to stay in bounds of my curfew of 4:30 in the morning, I could only work for a few minutes and then run back to my house, stealing a few meager hours of sleep before the bus came. And despite what others may say about such a small window of time, I believed every second was worth its weight in gold. However little it was that I did, at least it was something.
It had been some time since that day when I finally got over it, coincidentally the day I finally turned in the last of my makeup work as well as the day I turned fifteen- June 8th. It was also the exact day when school let out, but that’s a little less important.
I finished clearing out all the loose papers from my locker and turned to Ramya, who was already pulling me into a half-hug. Behind me, Natasha pounced on both of us. We stood in our awkward group hug for a minute, maybe longer. Ramya was to travel to England, along with the rest of her family for the entirety of the summer, which meant there would be no one around to protect the skinny freshmeat (read: me and Natasha).
“I’m gonna miss you both so much.” she said, sadness edging her voice.
Natasha hugged her tighter, nearly suffocating me between them.
“Say hi to Oliver Phelps for me, ‘kay?” she tried to smile, but failed. “I... I... god damn it, I’ll miss you too, Ramya!”
With that, she practically flung herself into Ramya’s arms, a tiny sniffle being the only sign that she was crying.
“I’m going to miss you, too.” I said quietly. “Too bad I don’t have a phone or anything. I could’ve called you.”
Ramya shook her head. “Wouldn’t have made a difference. I don’t have international coverage.” She sighed. “Oh well.”
A loud horn sounded from outside the building, followed by an equally noisy voice shouting my friend’s name.
“Oh, that’s my ride.” she said, already running for the front doors. “Bye guys!”
I half-heartedly waved goodbye over my shoulder as I checked my locker for anything else I might have missed. When I saw that there was nothing, I grabbed backpack and started towards the exit. Natasha tackled me with one of her infamous flying hugs before I could, though, and if she had been acting soft when Ramya had gone away for England, the waterworks were on full blast now.
“Natasha, I can’t miss the bus!” I exclaimed, trying hard to extricate myself from her vice-like grip.
“I know,” she answered, still refusing to let go. “But you didn’t say goodbye yet!”
I laughed a little and hugged her back. “Oh, right! Well, goodbye, don’t talk to strangers, don’t drink or do drugs, eat your vegetables, gotta go!”
As quickly as I could, I pulled myself up and ran for the bus loop, just barely catching my bus as it got ready to leave.
The bullying had subsided entirely for today. Most likely, everyone was so caught up in the end-of-the-school year festivities that they had completely forgotten about me. It was just as well- I needed peace to figure out how I was to survive this coming summer. Obviously I’d gotten through all the others mostly intact, but somehow I was sure that this one would be quite a lot different from all the others. I’d been missing for four straight months this time around, and I was certain I would pay dearly for it. There was also the matter of readjusting the schedule of my visits so that I wouldn’t run into my father on his way home from his nightly bar runs, and also being careful not to sleep in too late which would no doubt arouse some suspicion. I knew I would still be beaten, but late night visits to Gerard’s house would provide just enough comfort to pull me through.
I hoped.
The bus jerked to a stop and let off the first group of kids, effectively pulling me out of my silent scheming. I looked up to see if it was my stop (even though I was sure it wasn’t) and returned to my thoughts.
By the time my stop came, I had more or less figured everything out. Things would go just as they had before, exercising a little extra caution on the return trip being the only difference- why this had taken me so long to plan out, I didn’t know. It helped that it was now summer, though, as I could be more liberal with my curfew. Seeing as there’s no bus I have to catch, and all.
I climbed off the bus and headed towards my house. Out of habit (or concern for my personal safety) I went into my room as soon as the door slammed shut behind me. I also pulled out the scrap pieces of paper from my backpack as a force of habit, from when homework was the only thing to fill my hours with.
But there were no assignments for me to do. Nothing to pass the time.
And oddly enough, I found myself missing my schoolwork a little.
I never thought I would ever even think about thinking that in my life, but then again, a lot of things have happened to me lately that I have never expected.
Absently, I played with the hem of my skirt- the one that Gerard had given to me that first night. I wondered how neither of my parents had noticed my sudden wardrobe expansion, then quickly debunked that with a smirk, thinking that they were probably too busy hating one another to notice me.
I risked a peek outside my door- if no one was home, I could leave early and get much more time to work. Although that course of action ran the risk of an unscheduled meeting with Gerard (whom I still hadn’t plucked up the courage to speak to at that point), it was much more desirable than lazing around in my room as I waited for nightfall with nothing to do. I didn’t hear or see anything, but then again my vision was limited and I didn’t trust my ears to pick up softer movements. I coughed loudly and waited for a response. There was none. The coast was clear.
I stood up, carefully closed the bedroom door behind me and started towards the front door with caution. I had no velvet tread, but I could be quiet when I wanted to.
“Whoever he his, Atropine, I hope he’s worth your time.”
My back stiffened and I bit down hard on my lip to keep from crying out. The voice had been female- I knew that for sure- but I couldn’t imagine my mother ever letting me leave the house, which left her vulnerable to my father. I turned to her, trying to pretend I didn’t know what she was talking about but gave up after only half a second. Helena was perceptive. There was no lying around her.
“He is.” I said with conviction, because this was something I really believed in and suddenly I wanted her to believe it, too. “I know he is.”
She had a faraway look in her eyes as she reached out for me, pulling me into a hug, which unlike so many others we’d shared, wasn’t stiff and awkward and artificial.
“I hope so.” she breathed, then let me go.
I didn’t begin work until long after I had gotten to the house. For at least an hour I just stood in front of the house, trying to visualize how I could have seen it as so unfriendly back in January. It was beautiful. Even if no one had kept the construction on the playground going, they had certainly continued work on the house. I remember thinking that if he had any taste at all, he’d have painted the shutters over in navy blue- and he had. The windows gleamed under the light of the setting sun, the trim was now a bright white and was no longer chipped, and the grass was actually growing now, and had taken on a healthy green hue. The toolbox was still where I’d left it the last night and I retrieved it, trying to make as little noise as possible, and started work once more.
It wasn’t until then that I realized I was very close to being finished. About two nights’, or maybe only one’s worth of work left. It thrilled me, yet at the same time saddened me. The playground was the one thing I had left in life to look forward to. I didn’t want it to be over, which was actually kind of funny when I thought about it a little more- towards the beginning, that was all I wanted it to be. Finished. But now I wanted to stretch it out over weeks, months, maybe even forever. Because if I could never see Gerard again, I wanted to at least help him in my own secret way.
With that in mind, I slowed down work a considerable amount. I imagined that with how slow I was moving, potential passers-by would have thought I was a zombie. That made me smile, recalling how much Mikey and Alicia loved the Dawn of the Dead movies. But that quickly became a bittersweet memory, tinged with nostalgia.
I pushed it away. Even small recollections were big distractions here. I didn’t know what it was, but something here increased the potency of my emotions tenfold. Perhaps it was Lindsey, hiding somewhere here where I couldn’t see nor sense her.
The crickets slowly, steadily lulled me into a working trance, drowning out all other sounds of the night. The moon shone down on the house, giving it an almost spectral glow. With all the insects croaking, the moonlight, and the grass rustling in the light breeze, it could almost be considered peaceful.
But something put me off- why, I had no notion. I didn’t know how I knew, but I was sure that something would happen very, very soon. Something significant, that may change my life- for the better or for the worse, well, that was yet to come.
I put down the tools I was using, supposing it was time to head home.
And I did.
And I didn’t like what I found when I walked through the front door.
My father stood hunched and mean in the kitchen, the broken edge of a beer bottle grasped tightly in his hand. Helena cowered against the cabinets. Scratches already lay scattered across her face- I didn’t know how long he’d been at it. I didn’t want to know.
When the door shut, my father lurched around towards me, like a wild animal temporarily distracted from its prey by a gunshot. When he saw that it was me, his face cracked open into an ugly smile that I knew all too well.
“You,” he snarled viciously. “You still ‘aven’t learned yer lesson, have yeh? Little bitch!”
He lunged at me and I dodged, running over to Helena to assess her injuries when he was still distracted from running into the wall. Her scratched looked bad. I felt awful that I had been so selfish- she must have known something like this would happen to her tonight, yet she still let me go fulfill my self-serving tasks. How could I have been so blind?
My fists clenched into tight, tense balls. I felt the blood pumping through each vessel, each vein in each of my fingers. My fingernails dug harshly into my palms, but I hardly noticed. A red cloud of anger had slowly eclipsed my vision, and in that moment all I wanted was to make my father feel every ounce of pain, every single bit of bullshit that he’s put me and Helena through for seven years.
But when I turned back, he had already gotten back up, no doubt running like a coward from us.
“Dad?” I stopped myself. He was no father of mine. “WAYNE! YOU GET OUT HERE. NOW!”
I breathed heavily, spinning around in a circle. Helena stood frozen behind me, probably wondering who this violent maelstrom of a girl was and what she’d done with her daughter. I was so focused on finding my lying, beating, disgusting father that I hadn’t bothered looking behind me.
By the time I heard the crack and the scream it was too late. Helena dropped, a rivulet of blood flowing down the center of her forehead from the harsh blow Wayne had dealt her. I felt a gasp worming its way up my throat as I looked my father straight in the eyes and saw nothing but darkness there. He might have been a good man once, but that was all gone and he knew it, trying to escape it with alcohol and sex.
I silenced the gasp. I was afraid to fight him, but seeing my own mother dead on the floor had awakened anger anew in me.
I wanted to kill him.
I flew at him, an animalistic scream wrenching through the night. I grabbed him by the throat and tackled him to the ground, slamming his head again and again into the floor.
“YOU! You cheating, lying, stealing BASTARD! Fuck you! FUCK YOU!” the sounds coming from my mouth were unearthly, seven years of bottled-up rage all escaping in the same moment. Wayne’s face was slowing degrading into a bloody pulp below me and I knew he was dead but I still didn’t stop. I wasn’t finished paying him back. I got up off his body and started towards my parents’ bedroom. I knew there was a shotgun in there, fully loaded with ammo. I grabbed it without a second thought.
Now back in the kitchen, I turned off the safety and, bullet by bullet, reduced Wayne’s face to a mass of blood, muscle and bone. The sneering face that had tormented me for so long was gone now.
Haunt me no more. I said to his body, silently.
Then I sat down on the floor and cried for my mother until the sun rose.
Then I buried them in the backyard, planting a single daisy at each of their otherwise unmarked graves.
Now you must find Gerard.
I walked, stuffing my hands under my armpits as I did so- even though it was now officially summer it was barely dawn and still cold. My feet knew the way by memory, and I distracted myself from the long walk by singing.
Saints protect her now
Come angels of the lord,
Come angels of unknown
I sang it over and over again, imagining it to be the dirge sung at my parents’ funeral that would never occur. In some way, I tried to make that up to them.
When the sun neared the noon point in the sky, I stood solemnly in front of the house. My stomach churned, resembling concrete tossing in a washer. I walked up to the porch, raised my hand, and knocked.
I hoped to God it was Gerard that answered the door. I had so many things I needed to tell him.
“Yes?” a voice called from inside that sounded like Gerard but could have been Mikey. “Coming.”
The dark-haired, slender figure I knew so well opened the door but didn’t greet me, standing frozen- in shock or anger, I didn’t know. But I couldn’t help myself. I flung myself into his arms, streaming tears and telling him what happened through the cries.
“A...” he ran his hands through my hair, shushing me gently. “A, come here. It’s okay. Shhh...”
“I don’t have any family anymore.” I said in a hushed voice as the gravity of the situation finally hit me.
“But that isn’t true, Atropine.” another voice said, and I saw that Mikey, Alicia, Ray, Frank, Jamia, and someone who must have been Christa stood in the doorway as well, and even though no one else could see her, Lindsey was there too. “We’re your family now, okay?”
As I ran to my new family, I still felt Gerard’s arms around my waist, his thin fingers in my hair, and the warm breath next to my ear as he whispered, “I love you.”
::
As I finished typing this, I can’t help but think wow, because I’ve been working on this for a little over a year (though it may only seem like eight months to the rest of you), and I’ve finally gotten to say the end, with only an epilogue left to tie up loose ends (like what happened to the mouse, Lindsey? Don’t worry, she’s fine).
Also, I tried eating that Chobani Greek vanilla yogurt stuff. It does not taste like yogurt. More like, like, fermented cow fat or something. That’s what it smells like, too. (cringes) Ewwwww.
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