Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Louder Than Words You'll Never Say
They’ve taken Gerard, and they’re going to keep him in custody while one of the doctors asks us some questions. He didn’t go easily though, he fought hard. At first it was just simple words, but then he started yelling. The nurses tried to get him to be quiet and go peacefully, but he wouldn’t let up. They tried to get closer to him to grab him, but he threatened to punch them if they touched him. When he said that, I felt like I had completely lost him. Up until now, I’ve been able to say that he’s not dangerous, but after hearing those words come straight out of his mouth without hesitation, it hit me. He’s gone.
They got security in here, and took him away to heaven knows where. I tried to tell the nurses to not inject him with anything, under any circumstances, but I can only pray that they’ll listen.
Ray and I sat down in front of the desk of the doctor that would be looking at Gerard. He was a middle-aged man, somewhat short and definitely the business-oriented type; the kind of guy that would be better suited to a job in advertising or something of the sort, not one in medicine. Yet still, something in his disposition was almost reassuring.
If he helps Gerard though, I really don’t give a shit if he has multiple murder convictions.
“So, men…” He said, folding his hands and tapping his fingers against his knuckles. “Can you tell me why you’re in here exactly?”
I glanced over at Ray, who looked at me expectantly.
Why does he want me to talk? He’s the one that talks. He’s the parent of the band, the one who keeps the rest of us from unintentionally killing ourselves. He’s the glue when Gerard can’t be. I’m the one wandering around with my head in the clouds, thinking up new guitar riffs or daydreaming about Gerard.
“It’s about our friend Gerard.” I answered shakily. “He’s not been doing too great lately. At first we thought it was just lack of sleep, but there’s definitely more to it.”
“Can you describe his behaviours that you find to be of concern?”
“Well at first, it was memory loss. He’d just forget little things. And then he’d forget bigger things.”
“When did this start, and how fast did it progress?” The doctor asked.
I looked over at Ray for help.
“I guess around two weeks ago it started…” Ray said. “And it progressed fast. Within days. That’s why we wanted to get him in here, because who knows what could happen if we left it another day.”
The doctor typed the information into his computer, then looked back at us over his thick glasses.
“Can you describe any particular incidents of this?”
“The first really shocking incident was when he forgot his past with alcoholism.” I said. “He talked about wanting alcohol, and we all thought he was joking as he always does, but then he picked up Ray’s bottle and it’s only because of his brother that he didn’t drink it.”
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.
“Where is his brother?” The doctor inquired.
“Back at the hotel we’re staying in. He was up with Gerard trying to get him to go to sleep until 4, so we took Gerard and he went back to bed.” Ray answered, running his curls between his fingers.
“Mikey, his brother, said he was having delusions… talking about places that don’t exist and whatnot. And he wouldn’t go to sleep. Absolutely refused. I even tried to get him to sleep earlier today, but again, no such luck.” I added. “And he didn’t even remember waking up this morning.”
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.
“So the problem is with his short-term memory?”
“Well, to some extent. He remembers things like memories from years ago, but then he forgets waking up in the morning, and then random long-term happenings such as the alcoholism.”
“Are you sure he’s still sober? Because that could cause these abnormal behaviours he seems to be experiencing.”
“100% sure.” I said with confidence.
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.
“What other behaviours have you noticed, if any?”
“He’s been more aggressive.” Ray said. “Verbally, for the most part. In fact the only incident of physical violence was just half an hour ago, when the nurses tried to take him away. He threatened them, and they had to get security.”
“Also he’s been quieter. I know that counteracts what Ray said about the aggressiveness, but his mood swings have been insane. One minute he’ll be completely zoned out, and then the next he’s yelling and acting like we’re out to get him.” I added on to what Ray said.
“And this has been the first time you have witnessed this behavioural pattern?”
“Yes.” Ray and I said synchronically.
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.
“Do you have any idea what’s wrong with him, from what we’ve told you?” I asked.
“My first guess is a neurotransmitter imbalance.” The doctor said. “But I’ll definitely have to run a few tests to tell.”
“How long do you need him for?”
“A couple of days would be my guess.”
“Damn.” Ray sighed. “He’s not gonna like that.”
“Injections… please, please no injections.” I pleaded.
“We’ll have to see. We might need a blood sample.”
My heart pounded inside my chest at the thought of Gerard having to get a blood test. If there’s one thing that will send him off the deep end (If he hasn’t gone off it already), it’s needles being stuck into his body.
Maybe tranquilizers aren’t such a bad idea after all.
…
Ray and I are in the waiting room currently. They should call it the I’m-so-fucking-tense-and-worried-that-I-can’t-stand-to-leave-this-place room. It’s much more fitting.
We’ve been in here for two hours, and nobody has updated us. Gerard is somewhere in here, we don’t know where, and God only knows what they’re doing to him. I’m scared, I’m confused, and I wonder why things like this happen to good people like Gerard.
Signing out for now before I lose my mind. But then again if I did, maybe I’d be able to keep Gee company.
“How much longer are we gonna be in here?” I sighed, half-asking Ray.
“If I knew, chances are we wouldn’t just be sitting here.” He said. “Doctor what’s-his-face said that if there were any updates or they needed us for anything, they’d call one of us.”
“Yeah but shouldn’t we at least be clued in on what’s happening? I want to know what they’re doing to him, I want to be there…”
“Then go find one of the doctors and ask them. I’d say that’s your only option other than waiting here for an undefined amount of time.”
“I might as well, I need to stretch anyway. Come with me?”
“Nah, I’ll stay here. Just in case someone comes in looking for us.”
I got up out of my chair and stretched my arms out in front of me. Where the hell am I supposed to start with this little Gerard-hunt? Who in this general vicinity is going to have a clue where he is or what is happening with him?
Reception. Damn, I’m a sharp one.
Great job, Frank. Maybe you shouldn’t have dropped out of college after all.
I made my way to the reception desk near the front entrance where we came in, and sure enough, just my luck, nobody was there.
“H-Hello?” I said nervously. “Anybody there?”
I knocked on the desk like it was a door.
“Excuse me, do you need help?”
Slightly startled, I turned around to see a young woman, probably only 20 or so.
Please, please be a receptionist. Or at least someone who can get me to Gerard.
“Yeah, I’m looking for my friend, he’s in here somewhere… they took him away a few hours ago, and-“
“Name?” She interrupted, flipping papers around her clipboard and examining them.
“Mine or his?”
“His.”
“Way. Gerard Way.”
She flipped a couple more pages and traced her finger halfway down the board.
“He’s getting tests done. You may or may not be able to see him.”
“Where is he? Who can I talk to?” I asked, getting more and more anxious by the second.
“This chart says he’s in the lab. But that was 10 minutes ago.”
“Shit!” I cried out, without even thinking. “I mean- I’m sorry, I need to talk to whoever is testing him. Where is the lab?”
“No guarantees they’ll let you in. No guarantees they’ll even still be there. But keep going straight, take a left at then end of the hallway, you should see a sign that directs you to the lab.” She explained with slight impatience.
“Thank you.” I said as I bolted off down the hall, not letting myself waste a second that I could be with Gerard, trying to talk the doctors out of bloodwork.
“Okay, there’s the sign…” I whispered to myself as I passed the bold red sign, directing me to the doors at the end of the current hallway I was in.
I ran over, pushed the doors open and entered what must have been the waiting room for the lab. Chairs lined the edges of the room, and gloomy-looking people sat on them.
If they’re so down on bloodwork that they look like that, I hate to think of what Gerard looks like right now.
“Excuse me!” I said to the receptionist, possibly a bit too loud for the deafeningly silent chamber I was in.
“Yes?”
“My friend, I need to see him. I need to see his doctors… Gerard Way.”
“Gerard Way?” The receptionist asked, looking through the mounds of papers scattered on the desk.
“Yes, can I go in?”
“He isn’t here. They took him out shortly before you arrived.”
“Where is he now?”
“I’m not sure, they didn’t tell me. But if I had to take a guess I’d say mental health, intensive care, second floor.”
“What? Why?”
I nearly vomited all over the desk. I feel sick to my stomach.
Maybe it isn’t what you think.
“I don’t know the full story, but I caught a few words as they took him away. From what I gather, they tried to get a blood sample, and he hit the doctor.”
Puking in 5… 4… 3…
I didn’t know what to say. Nothing could be said. My feet were glued to the ground, I couldn’t move. Why. How.
What.The.Fucking.Hell.
I told him. I told the damn doctor to avoid any and all injections. So what does he do but virtually, get my Gerard, my love, sent to intensive mental. Intensive mental means white rooms and straitjackets.
If they’re gonna put Gerard in a straitjacket and throw him in the bouncy room, I’m going too. If he jumps, I jump. If he hurts, I hurt. If he lives the rest of his life as a poser psycho, I’m staying with him until the day I die. I’ll fucking punch a few doctors too, if it means I can stay with him.
“Sir?”
“Yeah” I said, startled back into reality. The glue melted off my feet and all of a sudden, a thousand and one words poured down to the tip of my tongue.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted Ray:
Meet me at intensive psych, don’t ask just come.
They got security in here, and took him away to heaven knows where. I tried to tell the nurses to not inject him with anything, under any circumstances, but I can only pray that they’ll listen.
Ray and I sat down in front of the desk of the doctor that would be looking at Gerard. He was a middle-aged man, somewhat short and definitely the business-oriented type; the kind of guy that would be better suited to a job in advertising or something of the sort, not one in medicine. Yet still, something in his disposition was almost reassuring.
If he helps Gerard though, I really don’t give a shit if he has multiple murder convictions.
“So, men…” He said, folding his hands and tapping his fingers against his knuckles. “Can you tell me why you’re in here exactly?”
I glanced over at Ray, who looked at me expectantly.
Why does he want me to talk? He’s the one that talks. He’s the parent of the band, the one who keeps the rest of us from unintentionally killing ourselves. He’s the glue when Gerard can’t be. I’m the one wandering around with my head in the clouds, thinking up new guitar riffs or daydreaming about Gerard.
“It’s about our friend Gerard.” I answered shakily. “He’s not been doing too great lately. At first we thought it was just lack of sleep, but there’s definitely more to it.”
“Can you describe his behaviours that you find to be of concern?”
“Well at first, it was memory loss. He’d just forget little things. And then he’d forget bigger things.”
“When did this start, and how fast did it progress?” The doctor asked.
I looked over at Ray for help.
“I guess around two weeks ago it started…” Ray said. “And it progressed fast. Within days. That’s why we wanted to get him in here, because who knows what could happen if we left it another day.”
The doctor typed the information into his computer, then looked back at us over his thick glasses.
“Can you describe any particular incidents of this?”
“The first really shocking incident was when he forgot his past with alcoholism.” I said. “He talked about wanting alcohol, and we all thought he was joking as he always does, but then he picked up Ray’s bottle and it’s only because of his brother that he didn’t drink it.”
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.
“Where is his brother?” The doctor inquired.
“Back at the hotel we’re staying in. He was up with Gerard trying to get him to go to sleep until 4, so we took Gerard and he went back to bed.” Ray answered, running his curls between his fingers.
“Mikey, his brother, said he was having delusions… talking about places that don’t exist and whatnot. And he wouldn’t go to sleep. Absolutely refused. I even tried to get him to sleep earlier today, but again, no such luck.” I added. “And he didn’t even remember waking up this morning.”
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.
“So the problem is with his short-term memory?”
“Well, to some extent. He remembers things like memories from years ago, but then he forgets waking up in the morning, and then random long-term happenings such as the alcoholism.”
“Are you sure he’s still sober? Because that could cause these abnormal behaviours he seems to be experiencing.”
“100% sure.” I said with confidence.
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.
“What other behaviours have you noticed, if any?”
“He’s been more aggressive.” Ray said. “Verbally, for the most part. In fact the only incident of physical violence was just half an hour ago, when the nurses tried to take him away. He threatened them, and they had to get security.”
“Also he’s been quieter. I know that counteracts what Ray said about the aggressiveness, but his mood swings have been insane. One minute he’ll be completely zoned out, and then the next he’s yelling and acting like we’re out to get him.” I added on to what Ray said.
“And this has been the first time you have witnessed this behavioural pattern?”
“Yes.” Ray and I said synchronically.
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.
“Do you have any idea what’s wrong with him, from what we’ve told you?” I asked.
“My first guess is a neurotransmitter imbalance.” The doctor said. “But I’ll definitely have to run a few tests to tell.”
“How long do you need him for?”
“A couple of days would be my guess.”
“Damn.” Ray sighed. “He’s not gonna like that.”
“Injections… please, please no injections.” I pleaded.
“We’ll have to see. We might need a blood sample.”
My heart pounded inside my chest at the thought of Gerard having to get a blood test. If there’s one thing that will send him off the deep end (If he hasn’t gone off it already), it’s needles being stuck into his body.
Maybe tranquilizers aren’t such a bad idea after all.
…
Ray and I are in the waiting room currently. They should call it the I’m-so-fucking-tense-and-worried-that-I-can’t-stand-to-leave-this-place room. It’s much more fitting.
We’ve been in here for two hours, and nobody has updated us. Gerard is somewhere in here, we don’t know where, and God only knows what they’re doing to him. I’m scared, I’m confused, and I wonder why things like this happen to good people like Gerard.
Signing out for now before I lose my mind. But then again if I did, maybe I’d be able to keep Gee company.
“How much longer are we gonna be in here?” I sighed, half-asking Ray.
“If I knew, chances are we wouldn’t just be sitting here.” He said. “Doctor what’s-his-face said that if there were any updates or they needed us for anything, they’d call one of us.”
“Yeah but shouldn’t we at least be clued in on what’s happening? I want to know what they’re doing to him, I want to be there…”
“Then go find one of the doctors and ask them. I’d say that’s your only option other than waiting here for an undefined amount of time.”
“I might as well, I need to stretch anyway. Come with me?”
“Nah, I’ll stay here. Just in case someone comes in looking for us.”
I got up out of my chair and stretched my arms out in front of me. Where the hell am I supposed to start with this little Gerard-hunt? Who in this general vicinity is going to have a clue where he is or what is happening with him?
Reception. Damn, I’m a sharp one.
Great job, Frank. Maybe you shouldn’t have dropped out of college after all.
I made my way to the reception desk near the front entrance where we came in, and sure enough, just my luck, nobody was there.
“H-Hello?” I said nervously. “Anybody there?”
I knocked on the desk like it was a door.
“Excuse me, do you need help?”
Slightly startled, I turned around to see a young woman, probably only 20 or so.
Please, please be a receptionist. Or at least someone who can get me to Gerard.
“Yeah, I’m looking for my friend, he’s in here somewhere… they took him away a few hours ago, and-“
“Name?” She interrupted, flipping papers around her clipboard and examining them.
“Mine or his?”
“His.”
“Way. Gerard Way.”
She flipped a couple more pages and traced her finger halfway down the board.
“He’s getting tests done. You may or may not be able to see him.”
“Where is he? Who can I talk to?” I asked, getting more and more anxious by the second.
“This chart says he’s in the lab. But that was 10 minutes ago.”
“Shit!” I cried out, without even thinking. “I mean- I’m sorry, I need to talk to whoever is testing him. Where is the lab?”
“No guarantees they’ll let you in. No guarantees they’ll even still be there. But keep going straight, take a left at then end of the hallway, you should see a sign that directs you to the lab.” She explained with slight impatience.
“Thank you.” I said as I bolted off down the hall, not letting myself waste a second that I could be with Gerard, trying to talk the doctors out of bloodwork.
“Okay, there’s the sign…” I whispered to myself as I passed the bold red sign, directing me to the doors at the end of the current hallway I was in.
I ran over, pushed the doors open and entered what must have been the waiting room for the lab. Chairs lined the edges of the room, and gloomy-looking people sat on them.
If they’re so down on bloodwork that they look like that, I hate to think of what Gerard looks like right now.
“Excuse me!” I said to the receptionist, possibly a bit too loud for the deafeningly silent chamber I was in.
“Yes?”
“My friend, I need to see him. I need to see his doctors… Gerard Way.”
“Gerard Way?” The receptionist asked, looking through the mounds of papers scattered on the desk.
“Yes, can I go in?”
“He isn’t here. They took him out shortly before you arrived.”
“Where is he now?”
“I’m not sure, they didn’t tell me. But if I had to take a guess I’d say mental health, intensive care, second floor.”
“What? Why?”
I nearly vomited all over the desk. I feel sick to my stomach.
Maybe it isn’t what you think.
“I don’t know the full story, but I caught a few words as they took him away. From what I gather, they tried to get a blood sample, and he hit the doctor.”
Puking in 5… 4… 3…
I didn’t know what to say. Nothing could be said. My feet were glued to the ground, I couldn’t move. Why. How.
What.The.Fucking.Hell.
I told him. I told the damn doctor to avoid any and all injections. So what does he do but virtually, get my Gerard, my love, sent to intensive mental. Intensive mental means white rooms and straitjackets.
If they’re gonna put Gerard in a straitjacket and throw him in the bouncy room, I’m going too. If he jumps, I jump. If he hurts, I hurt. If he lives the rest of his life as a poser psycho, I’m staying with him until the day I die. I’ll fucking punch a few doctors too, if it means I can stay with him.
“Sir?”
“Yeah” I said, startled back into reality. The glue melted off my feet and all of a sudden, a thousand and one words poured down to the tip of my tongue.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted Ray:
Meet me at intensive psych, don’t ask just come.
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