Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > your name crossed my brain on a bullet.
Death, Drink and Drowning.
2 reviewsIt was going to be a beautiful wedding. But they never got that far before the tragedy occured. With flashbacks, dreams and forming his own detective agency, will Gerard and his brothers ever find ...
0Unrated
This is the begining of a fanfic I started last year on another website. I like this one alot so I thought I'd dig it out and try to finish it. Enjoy and let me know what you think ASAP :D x x x
"I'll carve your name onto this bullet, so that everyone will know you were the last thing that went through my mind."
On his knees, Gerard ignored the puddle of blood he was knelt in. His ghostly white face, once glowing with euphoria while she'd been alive, was now buried in his hands and stained with tears.
'How? Oh, even why?' he asked himself over and over. He looked across the old, wooden floor at her limp body in front of him. He followed the stains of blood from the floor leading up to the heavenly white of the bed. They'd been so happy once. HAD been, Gerard, HAD been.
He felt like taking the gun from her frozen hand and shooting himself. He began to realise that when something is taken away from you you'll miss it, you'll yearn for it- you'll love it. 'I loved you from the start...' he said in his head, looking upon her beautiful body clad in the white dress.
"FROM THE START!" He yelled, pounding his fists on the floor.
He took her empty hand in his and laid besides her, crying into her cold, bare shoulder.
'Wake up, please, tell me this is a nightmare- I'll be forever lonely, my heart is empty, my fire is cold- please save me, you were my treasure- my gold...' He whispered, almost singing, tears streaming down his face. As he lay beside her blood soaked through his once smart looking black suit.
Gerard heard footsteps creaking up the old staircase but he stayed where he was, wishing his warmth to bring his bride back to life. The door opened a few inches and Mikey poked his head around, ready to retreat if anything was thrown at him.
"The police said they'd be here shortly." Mikey told his brother, in a calm tone despite everything.
"We don't need police- we need a bloody morgue cart- look at her, she'd dead! DEAD Mikey!" Gerard cried, hiding his face in his hands again.
Mikey walked over and laid a hand on his brother's shoulder.
"And peace be on her soul..." Mikey replied.
"Then why do the fucking cops have to see her?" Gerard asked, showing bitterness in his voice.
"I think they just want to check it actually was suicide, take a few notes, the gun and maybe ask a few questions...Anyone is a suspect"
"You mean they think I did it?" Gerard frowned at the idea, his eyes still bloodshot, so blood shot he could have been crying blood.
"They'll take us all down as the possible culprits until they've enough evidence to say its suicide."
The eerie, low tone of the doorbell echoed throughout the house and the brothers heard Frank open the door. Moments later he'd led the police upstairs to the room where she lay.
"Do you mind if you wait downstairs while we take a few notes?" The chief inspector asked, looking Mikey in the eyes and not even daring to look past him, down at Gerard. One man had begun drawing a white line around her corpse and another was taking photos.
Mikey nodded and he took Gerard's arm. Gerard looked up at the photographer.
"You're a fucking sicko!" He hissed at him, teeth bared in a snarl. Mikey hauled him up and led him down the creaky steps to the living room.
It was as equally dark down here as in the chamber of death. All the curtains remained undrawn and none of the lights or candles were lit. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and a great, white marble renaissance fireplace was the main feature of the room.
On the red, luxurious sofa laid Bob, wide-eyed and unblinking, his eyes dark and blank. Ray sat beside him, on the edge of the sofa, his head on his closed hands, his face expressionless and hidden in shadows.
Gerard threw himself into one of the empty chairs and immediately his hand went for the decanter of crimson wine. He began downing the bottle and drowning his sorrows in the alcohol.
Frank tapped Mikey's shoulder in the hall.
"How is he?" He asked, quite timidly like a mouse. He could clearly see but wanted to know more so that he'd have some chance of being able to help his friend. Mikey could see the fear in Frank's face and so instead of screaming 'How do you think he's fucking feeling?' replied as calm as possible;
"He tried talking to her to wake her up...he's laid in her blood, he's sang to her. He just can't accept that it's happened."
"I just can't understand why..." Frank whispered, his voice trailing off as they watched Gerard through the doorway nodding off to sleep at last and clutching the now empty bottle in one hand.
"Hopefully, that's what the cops will find out to help." Mikey replied with a soft smile, which didn't show any form of joy at all.
* *
Gerard's dream:
He pulled away from the kiss, tears in his bride's eyes.
"I love you." She told him sincerely in barely a whisper.
"My love is undying for you." He replied, stroking her hair away from her face.
She was in that white dress again, the bottom of it fanning out around her on the bed. He sat behind her, his hand on her shoulders. Suddenly he was standing, the bed was still there and his love was still sat on the edge of it in front of him, but it was as if his feet were touching the floor. He felt something cold and heavy in his hand and he looked at it to see a small revolver, a lady's gun- a bulldog, he recalled hearing it called before.
"I'll carve your name onto this bullet-" His bride began and somehow he knew exactly what she was going to say. He heard his own voice join in and he watch her holding two separate bullets between her pale, delicate fingers. One with her own name on, and one with Gerard's.
"-so that everyone will know you were the last thing that went through my mind." They finished together. Suddenly Gerard felt terribly confused. Small white feathers began pouring in from the ceiling, which appeared to have disappeared. The night's sky was fabulous, stars shone like magnificent fireworks. The stars lit their faces up with a white glow, making them both look like ghosts.
Gerard felt his bride's head rest against his chest and she looked up with wide eyes. She handed him the bullets. Before Gerard knew what he had done he had loaded the gun with the first bullet, with his name carved on it.
"I'll see you in Heaven." He said, kissing her softly on the lips. She blinked in agreement and looked away from him as he pressed the gun at her head.
* *
"No!" Gerard yelled, waking in a panic attack. He found himself sitting bolt up right. He wouldn't let himself think over the dream. He felt sick with himself. He stumbled off the sofa and realised that the room was empty, and so much very darker, the only source of light seeped in through a gap in the curtains. The full moon poured in its venomous rays like spilt liquid.
He was shaking all over as he made his way to the kitchen. He stuck his head under the cold tap and let the water fill in his mouth- too quickly to swallow it. He turned it on faster, letting it pour out his moth and covered his face. He dropped head to the bottom of the sink, his raven black hair blocking the plug. He turned the tap to the max, letting icy cold water fill the basin and he began to gargle, as he realised that this was a mistake.
'No! No!' he thought. 'Don't let me die!" he felt himself burning up and fading to black as the water engulfed his lungs. He was in the middle of a panic attack. He struggled to pull his head out of the sink but the plughole was sucking his hair down firmly. He lashed about with his limbs, water going everywhere.
And then he stopped.
His movement-
His panic-
His heart-
Everything. It just stopped.
"I'll carve your name onto this bullet, so that everyone will know you were the last thing that went through my mind."
On his knees, Gerard ignored the puddle of blood he was knelt in. His ghostly white face, once glowing with euphoria while she'd been alive, was now buried in his hands and stained with tears.
'How? Oh, even why?' he asked himself over and over. He looked across the old, wooden floor at her limp body in front of him. He followed the stains of blood from the floor leading up to the heavenly white of the bed. They'd been so happy once. HAD been, Gerard, HAD been.
He felt like taking the gun from her frozen hand and shooting himself. He began to realise that when something is taken away from you you'll miss it, you'll yearn for it- you'll love it. 'I loved you from the start...' he said in his head, looking upon her beautiful body clad in the white dress.
"FROM THE START!" He yelled, pounding his fists on the floor.
He took her empty hand in his and laid besides her, crying into her cold, bare shoulder.
'Wake up, please, tell me this is a nightmare- I'll be forever lonely, my heart is empty, my fire is cold- please save me, you were my treasure- my gold...' He whispered, almost singing, tears streaming down his face. As he lay beside her blood soaked through his once smart looking black suit.
Gerard heard footsteps creaking up the old staircase but he stayed where he was, wishing his warmth to bring his bride back to life. The door opened a few inches and Mikey poked his head around, ready to retreat if anything was thrown at him.
"The police said they'd be here shortly." Mikey told his brother, in a calm tone despite everything.
"We don't need police- we need a bloody morgue cart- look at her, she'd dead! DEAD Mikey!" Gerard cried, hiding his face in his hands again.
Mikey walked over and laid a hand on his brother's shoulder.
"And peace be on her soul..." Mikey replied.
"Then why do the fucking cops have to see her?" Gerard asked, showing bitterness in his voice.
"I think they just want to check it actually was suicide, take a few notes, the gun and maybe ask a few questions...Anyone is a suspect"
"You mean they think I did it?" Gerard frowned at the idea, his eyes still bloodshot, so blood shot he could have been crying blood.
"They'll take us all down as the possible culprits until they've enough evidence to say its suicide."
The eerie, low tone of the doorbell echoed throughout the house and the brothers heard Frank open the door. Moments later he'd led the police upstairs to the room where she lay.
"Do you mind if you wait downstairs while we take a few notes?" The chief inspector asked, looking Mikey in the eyes and not even daring to look past him, down at Gerard. One man had begun drawing a white line around her corpse and another was taking photos.
Mikey nodded and he took Gerard's arm. Gerard looked up at the photographer.
"You're a fucking sicko!" He hissed at him, teeth bared in a snarl. Mikey hauled him up and led him down the creaky steps to the living room.
It was as equally dark down here as in the chamber of death. All the curtains remained undrawn and none of the lights or candles were lit. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and a great, white marble renaissance fireplace was the main feature of the room.
On the red, luxurious sofa laid Bob, wide-eyed and unblinking, his eyes dark and blank. Ray sat beside him, on the edge of the sofa, his head on his closed hands, his face expressionless and hidden in shadows.
Gerard threw himself into one of the empty chairs and immediately his hand went for the decanter of crimson wine. He began downing the bottle and drowning his sorrows in the alcohol.
Frank tapped Mikey's shoulder in the hall.
"How is he?" He asked, quite timidly like a mouse. He could clearly see but wanted to know more so that he'd have some chance of being able to help his friend. Mikey could see the fear in Frank's face and so instead of screaming 'How do you think he's fucking feeling?' replied as calm as possible;
"He tried talking to her to wake her up...he's laid in her blood, he's sang to her. He just can't accept that it's happened."
"I just can't understand why..." Frank whispered, his voice trailing off as they watched Gerard through the doorway nodding off to sleep at last and clutching the now empty bottle in one hand.
"Hopefully, that's what the cops will find out to help." Mikey replied with a soft smile, which didn't show any form of joy at all.
* *
Gerard's dream:
He pulled away from the kiss, tears in his bride's eyes.
"I love you." She told him sincerely in barely a whisper.
"My love is undying for you." He replied, stroking her hair away from her face.
She was in that white dress again, the bottom of it fanning out around her on the bed. He sat behind her, his hand on her shoulders. Suddenly he was standing, the bed was still there and his love was still sat on the edge of it in front of him, but it was as if his feet were touching the floor. He felt something cold and heavy in his hand and he looked at it to see a small revolver, a lady's gun- a bulldog, he recalled hearing it called before.
"I'll carve your name onto this bullet-" His bride began and somehow he knew exactly what she was going to say. He heard his own voice join in and he watch her holding two separate bullets between her pale, delicate fingers. One with her own name on, and one with Gerard's.
"-so that everyone will know you were the last thing that went through my mind." They finished together. Suddenly Gerard felt terribly confused. Small white feathers began pouring in from the ceiling, which appeared to have disappeared. The night's sky was fabulous, stars shone like magnificent fireworks. The stars lit their faces up with a white glow, making them both look like ghosts.
Gerard felt his bride's head rest against his chest and she looked up with wide eyes. She handed him the bullets. Before Gerard knew what he had done he had loaded the gun with the first bullet, with his name carved on it.
"I'll see you in Heaven." He said, kissing her softly on the lips. She blinked in agreement and looked away from him as he pressed the gun at her head.
* *
"No!" Gerard yelled, waking in a panic attack. He found himself sitting bolt up right. He wouldn't let himself think over the dream. He felt sick with himself. He stumbled off the sofa and realised that the room was empty, and so much very darker, the only source of light seeped in through a gap in the curtains. The full moon poured in its venomous rays like spilt liquid.
He was shaking all over as he made his way to the kitchen. He stuck his head under the cold tap and let the water fill in his mouth- too quickly to swallow it. He turned it on faster, letting it pour out his moth and covered his face. He dropped head to the bottom of the sink, his raven black hair blocking the plug. He turned the tap to the max, letting icy cold water fill the basin and he began to gargle, as he realised that this was a mistake.
'No! No!' he thought. 'Don't let me die!" he felt himself burning up and fading to black as the water engulfed his lungs. He was in the middle of a panic attack. He struggled to pull his head out of the sink but the plughole was sucking his hair down firmly. He lashed about with his limbs, water going everywhere.
And then he stopped.
His movement-
His panic-
His heart-
Everything. It just stopped.
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