Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Crash: Prologue
Chapter one
The car ride home was deathly silent. My mother didn't even bother to ask how my day went- not that she does anyway. Or I care. As I glanced over at her from the passenger's seat, her eyes appeared red and puffy as if she had been crying.
Today marked one year. A whole year since that day.
I was in the car too. Why couldn't I have gone instead of him?
Why him?
That question that will forever buzz around in my head. Like a masquito buzzing around my ears. Tormenting me. Buzzards around a corpse. Picking away at the remnants that is flesh and gore.
I clenched my eyes shut at the memory. The pain of physical injuries will never amount to the ample pain of loss. Only minor lung problems, a beaten and bruised face, a broken arm, and a small muscle tear or two. I escaped with the minimal. Lucky. A slight guilty chuckle. Gerard lost everything he had to loose. Dead on impact.
I often go down to his room. Sometimes just to sit in his bed and smell his scent. I sift through his notebooks reading his notes to no one but himself, pretending like he's still here. Of course it would only hurts. I snap back into reality only to remember the unfortunate truth. Gerard no more.
"Mom" I cleared my throat. It was slightly hoarse from lack of use. "Can you drop me off downtown?"
She took a deep breath and slowly released it. "Sure." She only briefly took her eyes off the road and looked over at me. Her smile was weak. I returned a small grin and focused my gaze back towards my hands. The smile soon faded.
•
I walked down the snow covered sidewalk. My hands were stuck deep in my hoodie pockets preserving any warmth to be saved.
I stopped in front of a small thrift store I had never noticed being here before. The small sign hanging from the door read 'The Raven's Claw' and had a small hand painted crow behind the shop name. I place my face to the glass of the shop windows and peered inside. It was only dimply lit by the front windows and a small lamp in the far back by what appeared to be the cash register. A brass birdcage sat on a set of shelves filled with dusty books. Vintage dresses hung from racks and jewelry pieces were displayed in glass cases. I stepped away and checked the store hours taped on the door just above the doorknob.
Open.
I slowly open the door as a breeze of cool air pushes into my face. Shutting the door behind me, I proceed toward the back counter. Dark, wood floorboards creak under my weight making it rather obvious that someone was here. Probably intruding.
"Hello?" My voice just above a whisper as I call into the seemingly empty shop. I turn my back to the counter, my weight resting slightly against the aged wood.
"Can I help you?" The smooth voice of a female asks in a harsh gone. I quickly turn to meet her face.
"I- I- Umm." Her face was narrow. Chiseled jaw bones. Pale, iced skin framed by dark brown, wavy hair. Sunglasses perched upon the bridge of a pointed nose. "Are you the owner?"
Only a small nod of the head to indicate her ownership.
"Okay." My voice was only a mere whisper. There was just something about her that made me want to shit my pants.
I made my way back toward the front of the small shop. One shelf of old board games grabbed my attention. I read off the names of them in my head.
Firebird Speed Chase, Electronic Intercept, Mr.Wizard's Science Secrets and Ouija.
I slid the Ouija board off of the shelf and brushed away the thin layer of dirt and dust.
You can contact the dead with these things right? I want it.
I return to the counter where the shop owner now sat. She turned to meet me as I sat the game down. Slender fingers ran across the edges finding an indication of price.
"Be careful with this, son. You do not know the dangers of such a powerful tool as this." She adjusted the thin, gray sweater that donned her body. "Some call this devil's play."
Bony fingers pushed each button on the cash register with a slight click as the nail hit the plastic.
Who is she to warn me? Am I to have any contact with my deceased brother? If so, let it be. If not, I will take my chances.
To have the one who means the most to you suddenly ripped from your arms- you can't fathom the pain.
"I'll be fine." I managed to choke out.
•
AN:This has been done for a while. I still don't like it at all really. I can't write words down for shit. I'll probably write a more lengthy author's note later. I'm not really in the mood. -L
The car ride home was deathly silent. My mother didn't even bother to ask how my day went- not that she does anyway. Or I care. As I glanced over at her from the passenger's seat, her eyes appeared red and puffy as if she had been crying.
Today marked one year. A whole year since that day.
I was in the car too. Why couldn't I have gone instead of him?
Why him?
That question that will forever buzz around in my head. Like a masquito buzzing around my ears. Tormenting me. Buzzards around a corpse. Picking away at the remnants that is flesh and gore.
I clenched my eyes shut at the memory. The pain of physical injuries will never amount to the ample pain of loss. Only minor lung problems, a beaten and bruised face, a broken arm, and a small muscle tear or two. I escaped with the minimal. Lucky. A slight guilty chuckle. Gerard lost everything he had to loose. Dead on impact.
I often go down to his room. Sometimes just to sit in his bed and smell his scent. I sift through his notebooks reading his notes to no one but himself, pretending like he's still here. Of course it would only hurts. I snap back into reality only to remember the unfortunate truth. Gerard no more.
"Mom" I cleared my throat. It was slightly hoarse from lack of use. "Can you drop me off downtown?"
She took a deep breath and slowly released it. "Sure." She only briefly took her eyes off the road and looked over at me. Her smile was weak. I returned a small grin and focused my gaze back towards my hands. The smile soon faded.
•
I walked down the snow covered sidewalk. My hands were stuck deep in my hoodie pockets preserving any warmth to be saved.
I stopped in front of a small thrift store I had never noticed being here before. The small sign hanging from the door read 'The Raven's Claw' and had a small hand painted crow behind the shop name. I place my face to the glass of the shop windows and peered inside. It was only dimply lit by the front windows and a small lamp in the far back by what appeared to be the cash register. A brass birdcage sat on a set of shelves filled with dusty books. Vintage dresses hung from racks and jewelry pieces were displayed in glass cases. I stepped away and checked the store hours taped on the door just above the doorknob.
Open.
I slowly open the door as a breeze of cool air pushes into my face. Shutting the door behind me, I proceed toward the back counter. Dark, wood floorboards creak under my weight making it rather obvious that someone was here. Probably intruding.
"Hello?" My voice just above a whisper as I call into the seemingly empty shop. I turn my back to the counter, my weight resting slightly against the aged wood.
"Can I help you?" The smooth voice of a female asks in a harsh gone. I quickly turn to meet her face.
"I- I- Umm." Her face was narrow. Chiseled jaw bones. Pale, iced skin framed by dark brown, wavy hair. Sunglasses perched upon the bridge of a pointed nose. "Are you the owner?"
Only a small nod of the head to indicate her ownership.
"Okay." My voice was only a mere whisper. There was just something about her that made me want to shit my pants.
I made my way back toward the front of the small shop. One shelf of old board games grabbed my attention. I read off the names of them in my head.
Firebird Speed Chase, Electronic Intercept, Mr.Wizard's Science Secrets and Ouija.
I slid the Ouija board off of the shelf and brushed away the thin layer of dirt and dust.
You can contact the dead with these things right? I want it.
I return to the counter where the shop owner now sat. She turned to meet me as I sat the game down. Slender fingers ran across the edges finding an indication of price.
"Be careful with this, son. You do not know the dangers of such a powerful tool as this." She adjusted the thin, gray sweater that donned her body. "Some call this devil's play."
Bony fingers pushed each button on the cash register with a slight click as the nail hit the plastic.
Who is she to warn me? Am I to have any contact with my deceased brother? If so, let it be. If not, I will take my chances.
To have the one who means the most to you suddenly ripped from your arms- you can't fathom the pain.
"I'll be fine." I managed to choke out.
•
AN:This has been done for a while. I still don't like it at all really. I can't write words down for shit. I'll probably write a more lengthy author's note later. I'm not really in the mood. -L
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