Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > To the end
*Bob POV*
February 25th, eleven days after Jen's twelfth birthday. Michelle burst through the door and threw it shut behind her.
"Michelle?"
She was still rattling around.
"Michelle?" I got up. She was leaning against the wall, very stressed, with tears streaming down her face.
"What happened?" I asked, taking her firmly by the shoulders.
I let her catch her breath.
"It's Jen," she said, "She's been shot."
My heart skipped a beat. Shot? Was she dead?
"Is she ok?" I asked, stupid question.
"She's alive, if that's what you mean," said Michelle, "We have to go to the hospital."
We left the house and went to the hospital. Michelle was really quiet the whole way there.
"She's gonna be alright Michelle," I said.
She stayed quiet.
Jen was in majors. I was expecting her to be on a bed with a gas mask on, but she was unconscious. Fast asleep on a gurney with blood pouring out of her shoulder. Michelle broke down just at the sight of her. I was horrified. Why would someone want to do this? And especially to Jen; she'd never set a foot wrong in her life.
My cell rang. It was Gerard.
"Hello?" I said.
"Hey man. Where are you? You were supposed to meet us like an hour ago," he said.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry. I'm at the hospital," I said. I had completely forgotten.
"Hospital? Why the hell are you at a hospital?" Gerard asked.
"Jen's been shot," I said.
"What?"
"Yeah. She's still alive though,"
I heard Gerard tell the others.
"Ok. Shall we see you whenever then?" he suggested.
"Ok. See ya," I said, and hung up.
Two hours later, Michelle and me were sitting by Jen's bed. She had just come back from theatre so they could remove he bullet from her shoulder and she was fast asleep.
"How do I even know whether she's gonna wake up?" said Michelle. She and Jen were so close, I felt so sorry for her that this was happening to her.
"She will. She's a tough kid," I said. It was true though; she'd seen the death of her father, which is something no kid of her age should ever have to go through. And then she's shot herself! Life hasn't been particularly fair to Jen.
Her hand twitched. And then it did it again.
"Jen?" said Michelle, in the hope that she would respond.
"What?" she groaned.
Michelle breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.
"What the fuck is up with my shoulder?" she groaned, a tone of pain in her voice.
"You've been shot," said Michelle.
"What? Am I dead?" she asked.
"No," Michelle laughed, "Not quite."
"So I have a chunk of metal inside my shoulder?" said Jen.
"Well, they've removed it now, but yeah, you did have," said Michelle.
"Cool," said Jen, a small smile appearing across her face.
"Is there room for four more?" asked Ray, opening the door. The guys were behind him.
"Sure there is," I said.
They came in.
"So, how's it going?" asked Frank. Ray clapped him over the head and everyone laughed.
*Jen POV*
I don't really remember anything. I can't even remember where I was when everything must have gone black. Oh well, at least I was still alive. The guys stayed for the best part of an hour, then it was just Bob and Michelle and me. Some cop came in and asked me a load of questions I couldn't answer, but then he was asked to leave as I needed 'plenty of rest' to quote. I wondered who had done this, why they had done it, and whether they'd do it again. Michelle stayed with me overnight, I don't think she like the idea of me being alone in a hospital room all night. Frankly, I didn't particularly like the sound of it either. They said I could go home the next day, if I didn't get any worse or die or something. I sort of wished my dad had ended up like me when he was shot, and didn't die before my eyes. Thinking about him made me feel ill, depressed, and gave me reasons to not keep on living. But I was past the whole suicidal phase and wasn't planning on going back.
Life didn't seem so evil after that. School wasn't a problem, and those Monkfish-son-of-a-bitches weren't hanging around outside my house, waiting for me to step out of the door. And everyone looked out for each other more, probably to do with everything that was going on. The next bad thing that happened to me was that I caught the flu. I was stuck on the couch for six days straight with a fever, headache and the most disgusting cold you've ever seen; no wonder nobody would come near me. I couldn't take being horizontal anymore, so I got up, wandered three yards up to the top of the stairs and sat there. It was about half ten at night, Michelle was out and supposed to be back anytime. Apart from me and Cal (my twenty-two-years-older-than-me brother), everyone was out. The phone rang. And again. And again.
"I'll get that, shall I?" said Calvin, sarcastically, picking up.
I guessed that it was just someone for mom. I did, until I heard Calvin's voice crack.
"Ok. Thank you," he said, sounding close to tears.
"Calvin?" I said.
"That was the police," he said, "It's Michelle."
"What happened to Michelle?" I asked. I was getting worried. Somehow the flu didn't seem so bad anymore.
"She was is a car accident," he said.
"Is she ok?"
He looked at the floor.
"Is she... dead?"
He nodded and walked away.
February 25th, eleven days after Jen's twelfth birthday. Michelle burst through the door and threw it shut behind her.
"Michelle?"
She was still rattling around.
"Michelle?" I got up. She was leaning against the wall, very stressed, with tears streaming down her face.
"What happened?" I asked, taking her firmly by the shoulders.
I let her catch her breath.
"It's Jen," she said, "She's been shot."
My heart skipped a beat. Shot? Was she dead?
"Is she ok?" I asked, stupid question.
"She's alive, if that's what you mean," said Michelle, "We have to go to the hospital."
We left the house and went to the hospital. Michelle was really quiet the whole way there.
"She's gonna be alright Michelle," I said.
She stayed quiet.
Jen was in majors. I was expecting her to be on a bed with a gas mask on, but she was unconscious. Fast asleep on a gurney with blood pouring out of her shoulder. Michelle broke down just at the sight of her. I was horrified. Why would someone want to do this? And especially to Jen; she'd never set a foot wrong in her life.
My cell rang. It was Gerard.
"Hello?" I said.
"Hey man. Where are you? You were supposed to meet us like an hour ago," he said.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry. I'm at the hospital," I said. I had completely forgotten.
"Hospital? Why the hell are you at a hospital?" Gerard asked.
"Jen's been shot," I said.
"What?"
"Yeah. She's still alive though,"
I heard Gerard tell the others.
"Ok. Shall we see you whenever then?" he suggested.
"Ok. See ya," I said, and hung up.
Two hours later, Michelle and me were sitting by Jen's bed. She had just come back from theatre so they could remove he bullet from her shoulder and she was fast asleep.
"How do I even know whether she's gonna wake up?" said Michelle. She and Jen were so close, I felt so sorry for her that this was happening to her.
"She will. She's a tough kid," I said. It was true though; she'd seen the death of her father, which is something no kid of her age should ever have to go through. And then she's shot herself! Life hasn't been particularly fair to Jen.
Her hand twitched. And then it did it again.
"Jen?" said Michelle, in the hope that she would respond.
"What?" she groaned.
Michelle breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.
"What the fuck is up with my shoulder?" she groaned, a tone of pain in her voice.
"You've been shot," said Michelle.
"What? Am I dead?" she asked.
"No," Michelle laughed, "Not quite."
"So I have a chunk of metal inside my shoulder?" said Jen.
"Well, they've removed it now, but yeah, you did have," said Michelle.
"Cool," said Jen, a small smile appearing across her face.
"Is there room for four more?" asked Ray, opening the door. The guys were behind him.
"Sure there is," I said.
They came in.
"So, how's it going?" asked Frank. Ray clapped him over the head and everyone laughed.
*Jen POV*
I don't really remember anything. I can't even remember where I was when everything must have gone black. Oh well, at least I was still alive. The guys stayed for the best part of an hour, then it was just Bob and Michelle and me. Some cop came in and asked me a load of questions I couldn't answer, but then he was asked to leave as I needed 'plenty of rest' to quote. I wondered who had done this, why they had done it, and whether they'd do it again. Michelle stayed with me overnight, I don't think she like the idea of me being alone in a hospital room all night. Frankly, I didn't particularly like the sound of it either. They said I could go home the next day, if I didn't get any worse or die or something. I sort of wished my dad had ended up like me when he was shot, and didn't die before my eyes. Thinking about him made me feel ill, depressed, and gave me reasons to not keep on living. But I was past the whole suicidal phase and wasn't planning on going back.
Life didn't seem so evil after that. School wasn't a problem, and those Monkfish-son-of-a-bitches weren't hanging around outside my house, waiting for me to step out of the door. And everyone looked out for each other more, probably to do with everything that was going on. The next bad thing that happened to me was that I caught the flu. I was stuck on the couch for six days straight with a fever, headache and the most disgusting cold you've ever seen; no wonder nobody would come near me. I couldn't take being horizontal anymore, so I got up, wandered three yards up to the top of the stairs and sat there. It was about half ten at night, Michelle was out and supposed to be back anytime. Apart from me and Cal (my twenty-two-years-older-than-me brother), everyone was out. The phone rang. And again. And again.
"I'll get that, shall I?" said Calvin, sarcastically, picking up.
I guessed that it was just someone for mom. I did, until I heard Calvin's voice crack.
"Ok. Thank you," he said, sounding close to tears.
"Calvin?" I said.
"That was the police," he said, "It's Michelle."
"What happened to Michelle?" I asked. I was getting worried. Somehow the flu didn't seem so bad anymore.
"She was is a car accident," he said.
"Is she ok?"
He looked at the floor.
"Is she... dead?"
He nodded and walked away.
Sign up to rate and review this story