Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Powerless
After last night’s events, you can probably imagine that by morning, I was anxious for the hours to come. Everything seemed to collide, yet still nothing made sense. Something, presumably to do with me, would happen “by tomorrow night”, yet Gerard told me that if I “kept my fucking mouth shut”, I’d live until Friday. Hell, he’s spent the past couple of days waffling between beating the shit out of me and making me think, for some odd reason, that I’m free.
What were you expecting? A cute little itinerary with lace around the edges and a slot at 3:00 for a tea party?
Not a word said, he walked back in from the bathroom, where he had just words with yet another enraged psycho on the other end of the phone. His footsteps were irritatingly slow; with a slight trot to them, almost. Like he thinks he’s some sort of fucking aristocrat.
“We’re leaving.” He stated, pulling the key out of his coat pocket and releasing me.
“Where?” I asked as I rubbed my once again red and swollen wrists.
“What did I tell you about keeping your fucking mouth shut?”
I folded my arms against my chest and did as he said.
“I said we’re leaving. Get up.” He said, grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet. “Leave my side, and you’re mafia meat. Got it?”
I nodded my head and he dragged me out the door roughly.
We arrived in the parking lot once again, and once again he shoved me into the backseat of the old El Camino, before taking his seat in the front.
Oh, the memories. The hills are practically singing.
“Okay, here’s the deal.” He grumbled as he pulled out of the lot, the engine barking at his recklessness. “We’re basically going wherever we can at this point.”
He pulled onto the highway and I watched nervously as the speedometer cranked up to 110.
“So we’re just driving around the country for the pure fucking hell of it?” I laughed in disbelief. “Why don’t you just shoot me?”
Watch yourself. You’re walking on a field of eggshells.
“Shut your fucking mouth, I’m buying you a few days here.” He snapped.
“Why? Why are you even bothering? We both know what my fate is, why are you drawing it out?”
“Nothing better to do with my time, I suppose.” He said, his mouth forming the beginnings of a devious smile.
Don’t trust this guy. He lies and kills for a living; don’t even fucking go there.
After trying for a few minutes to come up with something to say, I realized that for the first time in my life, I’ve been outsmarted. There’s nothing more to say to this guy; everything I say, he either blows off, or turns back on me. I could run around in circles asking him what the hell he’s doing until I’m blue in the face. He ain’t gonna give in.
But why? Why is he buying me time?
I looked over at the clock in the front. 8:39. Gerard’s eyes were fixated on the road ahead once again; that devious grin still glued to his face. I feared for both my sanity, and my future. Nonetheless, I decided to make the best of the situation and try to get some rest.
Rockabye Frankie, on the treetop. When the gun shoots, the cradle will rock. And as the bough breaks, Frankie will fall. Down will come Frankie; Gerard still stands tall.
Someone, help me.
I closed my eyes and pictured myself on a road trip, like when I was a kid. My parents in the front, arguing about which route would be the fastest; the air thick with the tension of their words; myself, in the back seat, leaning my head against the hard glass window and pretending I wasn’t there. I was somewhere else. In my own little fantasy world, where everything was quiet.
Then as a teenager, I bought my own car and took my own road trips. Nobody was there to argue or fight, to make unwanted noise, or to otherwise disturb me in my journey. The first day I drove the streets of Chicago, alone with the world, was the day I decided that I would live my life alone. And then my mind would wander off, back to my own little fantasy world; but this time, it wasn’t the quiet that I desired. I dreamed of dying young and reckless; a picture in the newspaper.
For some reason, I was always scared of the idea of history repeating itself. Not necessarily the events themselves, but the idea of relieving them in a parallel universe-esque fashion. I was a smart kid, and I knew what I was thinking. So why is it so mind-blowing to me to come to the realization that this moment – right here and right now – history is repeating itself? The tension in the air, and the fantasy world that I forced myself to retreat into in order to escape it. It creates a bit of a mental wormhole; how now, I’m finding myself retreating into a fantasy world in which I remember how I used to do the same thing. It’s almost a paradox of some sort. And then once again, just as a teenager, it’s quiet. But what’s the difference this time? I ain’t alone. But I’m figuring out that sooner rather than later, my dream of dying young and reckless will be coming true.
Better start printing my picture for the newspaper.
Suddenly, the car pulled to a stop. Awakening from my thoughts, I looked around, trying to figure out where in heaven or hell we were.
“Uhh…” I started, trailing off as I remembered his threats.
“Stay in here. I’ll come get you in a few minutes.” He said, hopping out of the car gleefully. “Oh. And if you try to escape, I have no problem whatsoever with shooting you.”
He walked off, heading towards what looked like an abandoned bar about 30 feet away from where he had parked the car.
Run. Either you escape, or you get shot and cut out the fucking drag-on.
Bad. Bad idea.
Run.
I waited a minute or two until I was sure he wasn’t coming back out. And as soon as I managed to muster up the balls to do it, I threw the car door open and ran as fast as I humanly could. All I could see on the horizon was miles and miles of sandy, desert-like highway; but there must be someone out there. Someone… something…
I ran and ran and ran until I could run no more. Taking a quick look behind me, I could barely see the bar or the El Camino anymore.
Damn, Frank. You just might pull this off.
Walking with my shoulders and head held high, and my heart light with the confidence that God had taken mercy on me. In the distance, I heard the familiar sound of a car’s engine heading my way. I ran forward, hoping to the heavens above that whoever it was would be humane enough to give me a ride out of here.
“Hello!” I called out, running faster and faster.
I turned around for a second, checking once again for the bar. To my delight, the bar was far out of my sight. But my heart dropped straight out of my chest and into the dusty ground as I realized that the car wasn’t coming from in front of me. It was coming from behind.
The motor chugged and barked and got closer and closer, and it wasn’t long until I saw the familiar hood of the El Camino.
Run.
No, don’t run, you fucking idiot!
So I guess this is what death feels like.
Figuring I had nothing left to lose at this point, I booked it as fast as I could, looking around for a fucking cactus, or something that I could hide myself behind.
Stop it.
I heard a gun fire, and no sooner did the sound reach my ears than I was on the ground, clutching my thigh as blood poured out of it. It all happened within a second; far too fast for me to even notice as the bullet shot into my flesh. In fact, it wasn’t until the old El Camino was parked in front of me, and Gerard was standing beside it looking down on me sadistically, that I even felt the pain.
“Told you I don’t have a problem shooting you.” He grinned, looking proud of his work.
“I… I…” I whimpered, pushing my hand to the open wound.
“You keep surprising me. I thought you were a smart one. Guess first impressions can be wrong.”
He grabbed my arm, just as he had earlier, and dragged me back into the back seat of the El Camino. I winced and cried with every step, but he didn’t seem to notice. Either that, or he just didn’t care.
What were you expecting? A cute little itinerary with lace around the edges and a slot at 3:00 for a tea party?
Not a word said, he walked back in from the bathroom, where he had just words with yet another enraged psycho on the other end of the phone. His footsteps were irritatingly slow; with a slight trot to them, almost. Like he thinks he’s some sort of fucking aristocrat.
“We’re leaving.” He stated, pulling the key out of his coat pocket and releasing me.
“Where?” I asked as I rubbed my once again red and swollen wrists.
“What did I tell you about keeping your fucking mouth shut?”
I folded my arms against my chest and did as he said.
“I said we’re leaving. Get up.” He said, grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet. “Leave my side, and you’re mafia meat. Got it?”
I nodded my head and he dragged me out the door roughly.
We arrived in the parking lot once again, and once again he shoved me into the backseat of the old El Camino, before taking his seat in the front.
Oh, the memories. The hills are practically singing.
“Okay, here’s the deal.” He grumbled as he pulled out of the lot, the engine barking at his recklessness. “We’re basically going wherever we can at this point.”
He pulled onto the highway and I watched nervously as the speedometer cranked up to 110.
“So we’re just driving around the country for the pure fucking hell of it?” I laughed in disbelief. “Why don’t you just shoot me?”
Watch yourself. You’re walking on a field of eggshells.
“Shut your fucking mouth, I’m buying you a few days here.” He snapped.
“Why? Why are you even bothering? We both know what my fate is, why are you drawing it out?”
“Nothing better to do with my time, I suppose.” He said, his mouth forming the beginnings of a devious smile.
Don’t trust this guy. He lies and kills for a living; don’t even fucking go there.
After trying for a few minutes to come up with something to say, I realized that for the first time in my life, I’ve been outsmarted. There’s nothing more to say to this guy; everything I say, he either blows off, or turns back on me. I could run around in circles asking him what the hell he’s doing until I’m blue in the face. He ain’t gonna give in.
But why? Why is he buying me time?
I looked over at the clock in the front. 8:39. Gerard’s eyes were fixated on the road ahead once again; that devious grin still glued to his face. I feared for both my sanity, and my future. Nonetheless, I decided to make the best of the situation and try to get some rest.
Rockabye Frankie, on the treetop. When the gun shoots, the cradle will rock. And as the bough breaks, Frankie will fall. Down will come Frankie; Gerard still stands tall.
Someone, help me.
I closed my eyes and pictured myself on a road trip, like when I was a kid. My parents in the front, arguing about which route would be the fastest; the air thick with the tension of their words; myself, in the back seat, leaning my head against the hard glass window and pretending I wasn’t there. I was somewhere else. In my own little fantasy world, where everything was quiet.
Then as a teenager, I bought my own car and took my own road trips. Nobody was there to argue or fight, to make unwanted noise, or to otherwise disturb me in my journey. The first day I drove the streets of Chicago, alone with the world, was the day I decided that I would live my life alone. And then my mind would wander off, back to my own little fantasy world; but this time, it wasn’t the quiet that I desired. I dreamed of dying young and reckless; a picture in the newspaper.
For some reason, I was always scared of the idea of history repeating itself. Not necessarily the events themselves, but the idea of relieving them in a parallel universe-esque fashion. I was a smart kid, and I knew what I was thinking. So why is it so mind-blowing to me to come to the realization that this moment – right here and right now – history is repeating itself? The tension in the air, and the fantasy world that I forced myself to retreat into in order to escape it. It creates a bit of a mental wormhole; how now, I’m finding myself retreating into a fantasy world in which I remember how I used to do the same thing. It’s almost a paradox of some sort. And then once again, just as a teenager, it’s quiet. But what’s the difference this time? I ain’t alone. But I’m figuring out that sooner rather than later, my dream of dying young and reckless will be coming true.
Better start printing my picture for the newspaper.
Suddenly, the car pulled to a stop. Awakening from my thoughts, I looked around, trying to figure out where in heaven or hell we were.
“Uhh…” I started, trailing off as I remembered his threats.
“Stay in here. I’ll come get you in a few minutes.” He said, hopping out of the car gleefully. “Oh. And if you try to escape, I have no problem whatsoever with shooting you.”
He walked off, heading towards what looked like an abandoned bar about 30 feet away from where he had parked the car.
Run. Either you escape, or you get shot and cut out the fucking drag-on.
Bad. Bad idea.
Run.
I waited a minute or two until I was sure he wasn’t coming back out. And as soon as I managed to muster up the balls to do it, I threw the car door open and ran as fast as I humanly could. All I could see on the horizon was miles and miles of sandy, desert-like highway; but there must be someone out there. Someone… something…
I ran and ran and ran until I could run no more. Taking a quick look behind me, I could barely see the bar or the El Camino anymore.
Damn, Frank. You just might pull this off.
Walking with my shoulders and head held high, and my heart light with the confidence that God had taken mercy on me. In the distance, I heard the familiar sound of a car’s engine heading my way. I ran forward, hoping to the heavens above that whoever it was would be humane enough to give me a ride out of here.
“Hello!” I called out, running faster and faster.
I turned around for a second, checking once again for the bar. To my delight, the bar was far out of my sight. But my heart dropped straight out of my chest and into the dusty ground as I realized that the car wasn’t coming from in front of me. It was coming from behind.
The motor chugged and barked and got closer and closer, and it wasn’t long until I saw the familiar hood of the El Camino.
Run.
No, don’t run, you fucking idiot!
So I guess this is what death feels like.
Figuring I had nothing left to lose at this point, I booked it as fast as I could, looking around for a fucking cactus, or something that I could hide myself behind.
Stop it.
I heard a gun fire, and no sooner did the sound reach my ears than I was on the ground, clutching my thigh as blood poured out of it. It all happened within a second; far too fast for me to even notice as the bullet shot into my flesh. In fact, it wasn’t until the old El Camino was parked in front of me, and Gerard was standing beside it looking down on me sadistically, that I even felt the pain.
“Told you I don’t have a problem shooting you.” He grinned, looking proud of his work.
“I… I…” I whimpered, pushing my hand to the open wound.
“You keep surprising me. I thought you were a smart one. Guess first impressions can be wrong.”
He grabbed my arm, just as he had earlier, and dragged me back into the back seat of the El Camino. I winced and cried with every step, but he didn’t seem to notice. Either that, or he just didn’t care.
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