Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Suicidal Changes
((Hey guys! I finally responded to all of your reviews, and most of the remarks were just thank-yous and woo-hoos, so feel free to check it out.
I'd really like to thank you for not being all jerks about you know, a spelling mistake or something like a lot of people do to others. I usually get that because apperantly I'm 'young in the age.' Enjoy!))
OUT OF THE HOSPITAL, Gee's apartment, January 3rd
"Dammit, Eve, you're mother would be ashamed!" Yelled my father, slapping me across the face. "It's your fault she died!" He yelled, shoving me into the wall and punching me across the face. I choked, coughing up blood as he stared at me. Slowly his face melted into my mother's, her beautiful small face leaning forward to give me a kiss on the cheek.
"It'll be okay, love. I'll always be with you, and you will never have to worry about a thing as long as I'm here." She smiled, and then her teeth suddenly sharpened to fangs. Her eyes turned black, and her hair burned off of her head. The skin tone was then a black and red burnt look, and suddenly she looked old.
"You'll never be what I wanted you to be! You're just an emotional screwed up kid who'll never get a chance to actually live!" She screamed, clawing at me until I bled almost everywhere. She knocked me over, and I hit the ground with a thud.
"Everything's fine. You can tell me anything." Said Gerard, smiling. And then he was my father again, kicking me in the gut.
"You're a disappointment!" He screamed, picking up a gun and putting it to his head, when Marty came in and his hand melted into the gun when he pulled the trigger, and my father's head melted into blood and brains as it fell onto the floor.
Mikey stood in front of me, looking at me like a mother would a child.
"Do you love me?" He asked, leaning forward. His face flickered to Marty's face, looking at me like a mother would a child.
"I don't love you. Do you love me?" Marty asked, leaning forward farther as if to kiss me, when suddenly my hand reached out and a knife was melted into it. I slammed it into his heart.
I awoke with a start, to see Mikey leaning over me.
"Hey, are you okay? You sounded like you were dreaming." I sat up instantly, breathing hard. I was lying on the floor next to the couch that I had fallen off of.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I lied, rubbing my head.
"You don't look so good." He said, helping me onto the couch.
"I just have a headache, that's all." I said, rubbing my forehead still.
"Do you want some hot chocolate or something?" He asked, sitting next to me.
"No, I'm fine." I said again, dropping my hand onto my thigh that was covered with with a pair of red and blue pajama boxers.
"You're having dreams again, aren't you?" I looked at him, into his eyes, and then back at my hands.
"What do you mean 'again?'" I asked, wringing my hands.
"In the hospital you used to twist and turn and say things in your sleep." He responded, running a hand through his hair.
"Yeah, I guess I am." With that confession I leaned back in the cushions in the couch.
"What are they about?" He asked softly, and I looked at the ceiling.
"My mother, my dad, and Marty mostly. My dad... my Dad was-" I coughed slightly and didn't know how to explain it. "He hit me a lot. I said, reaching a hand behind my back to feel a scar across my back, and feeling my eyes water. "But he also loved me, or so he said. He would protect me and give me good advice, but he would still hit me. And my mother- he hit my mother too. She-she went suicide. And I just keep having these dreams about them... What my mother would say about me now." I smiled slightly. "So in school and all I was like known as 'the fucked up kid' and stuff. It got annoying, and I never knew how word got out. I guess it was rumors, and well... In the locker room." I said, still feeling the scar on my back.
"What's on your back?" Asked Mikey, and I sighed.
"I'll just have to show you." I said, standing slowly and lifting up the back of my shirt just below my bra. I heart his sharp intake of breath, so I dropped the shirt and sat back down with a small 'swoosh' as I sat on the old cushions.
"How did..." He began, but I cut him off.
"My Dad had a friend over and... He took the glass off a beer bottle and cut it across my back." I said that quietly, glancing around the room. "I never told anyone because I just didn't want people to feel sorry for me, I guess. I didn't want to be the screwed up kid at my school. If people knew they would all just think I was that one girl who's father hits her and all of that crap." I didn't realize it, but I was talking quietly.
"That's kind of... Harsh." Mikey responded, and I nodded.
"But I got over the whole hitting thing, anyway. My Dad only did it for a month or so- then it stopped, basically."
We went off talking, about pointless things, basically. It was then that I turned towards Mikey, and he leaned forward slightly, and so did I... And then our lips met.
I'd really like to thank you for not being all jerks about you know, a spelling mistake or something like a lot of people do to others. I usually get that because apperantly I'm 'young in the age.' Enjoy!))
OUT OF THE HOSPITAL, Gee's apartment, January 3rd
"Dammit, Eve, you're mother would be ashamed!" Yelled my father, slapping me across the face. "It's your fault she died!" He yelled, shoving me into the wall and punching me across the face. I choked, coughing up blood as he stared at me. Slowly his face melted into my mother's, her beautiful small face leaning forward to give me a kiss on the cheek.
"It'll be okay, love. I'll always be with you, and you will never have to worry about a thing as long as I'm here." She smiled, and then her teeth suddenly sharpened to fangs. Her eyes turned black, and her hair burned off of her head. The skin tone was then a black and red burnt look, and suddenly she looked old.
"You'll never be what I wanted you to be! You're just an emotional screwed up kid who'll never get a chance to actually live!" She screamed, clawing at me until I bled almost everywhere. She knocked me over, and I hit the ground with a thud.
"Everything's fine. You can tell me anything." Said Gerard, smiling. And then he was my father again, kicking me in the gut.
"You're a disappointment!" He screamed, picking up a gun and putting it to his head, when Marty came in and his hand melted into the gun when he pulled the trigger, and my father's head melted into blood and brains as it fell onto the floor.
Mikey stood in front of me, looking at me like a mother would a child.
"Do you love me?" He asked, leaning forward. His face flickered to Marty's face, looking at me like a mother would a child.
"I don't love you. Do you love me?" Marty asked, leaning forward farther as if to kiss me, when suddenly my hand reached out and a knife was melted into it. I slammed it into his heart.
I awoke with a start, to see Mikey leaning over me.
"Hey, are you okay? You sounded like you were dreaming." I sat up instantly, breathing hard. I was lying on the floor next to the couch that I had fallen off of.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I lied, rubbing my head.
"You don't look so good." He said, helping me onto the couch.
"I just have a headache, that's all." I said, rubbing my forehead still.
"Do you want some hot chocolate or something?" He asked, sitting next to me.
"No, I'm fine." I said again, dropping my hand onto my thigh that was covered with with a pair of red and blue pajama boxers.
"You're having dreams again, aren't you?" I looked at him, into his eyes, and then back at my hands.
"What do you mean 'again?'" I asked, wringing my hands.
"In the hospital you used to twist and turn and say things in your sleep." He responded, running a hand through his hair.
"Yeah, I guess I am." With that confession I leaned back in the cushions in the couch.
"What are they about?" He asked softly, and I looked at the ceiling.
"My mother, my dad, and Marty mostly. My dad... my Dad was-" I coughed slightly and didn't know how to explain it. "He hit me a lot. I said, reaching a hand behind my back to feel a scar across my back, and feeling my eyes water. "But he also loved me, or so he said. He would protect me and give me good advice, but he would still hit me. And my mother- he hit my mother too. She-she went suicide. And I just keep having these dreams about them... What my mother would say about me now." I smiled slightly. "So in school and all I was like known as 'the fucked up kid' and stuff. It got annoying, and I never knew how word got out. I guess it was rumors, and well... In the locker room." I said, still feeling the scar on my back.
"What's on your back?" Asked Mikey, and I sighed.
"I'll just have to show you." I said, standing slowly and lifting up the back of my shirt just below my bra. I heart his sharp intake of breath, so I dropped the shirt and sat back down with a small 'swoosh' as I sat on the old cushions.
"How did..." He began, but I cut him off.
"My Dad had a friend over and... He took the glass off a beer bottle and cut it across my back." I said that quietly, glancing around the room. "I never told anyone because I just didn't want people to feel sorry for me, I guess. I didn't want to be the screwed up kid at my school. If people knew they would all just think I was that one girl who's father hits her and all of that crap." I didn't realize it, but I was talking quietly.
"That's kind of... Harsh." Mikey responded, and I nodded.
"But I got over the whole hitting thing, anyway. My Dad only did it for a month or so- then it stopped, basically."
We went off talking, about pointless things, basically. It was then that I turned towards Mikey, and he leaned forward slightly, and so did I... And then our lips met.
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