Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Drugs Never Work

The Drugs Never Work

by akissgoodbye 9 reviews

Kelsey get sent to a mental institution, All the while, she's convinced that she's the sane one. Although she meets someone there that makes her confidence falter, and hopes that they can help each...

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama, Humor, Romance - Characters: Bob Bryar, Frank Iero, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Ray Toro - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2007-02-23 - Updated: 2007-02-23 - 2319 words

"I despise the fishing network. How ridiculous it is that an entire channel is dedicated to the sport of fishing, which is supposed to be enjoyed outdoors, not inside, in a sterile environment, but outside. When did fishing cease to be interesting by itself that a television channel had to be dedicated to it to spice up the sport? Ask my father, oh sorry, scratch that, my step father, what he finds so interesting about the faint glow, that is the fishing channel, emitting from his television that seems to capture his notoriously short attention span. He sits there, all day, in front of the television, a beer in one hand, the remote in the other, even though he won't change the channel for a typhoon, and watches until he passes out or falls asleep. The pizza delivery guy even knows its okay to walk right into our house, I wouldn't be surprised if my lard tub of a step father gave him a freaking key."

I looked around at the blank faces around me and smirked. Idiots. All of them idiots. I needed to get out of here as soon as possible. My mentor was nodding at me and smiling, he probably thought I had had some big breakthrough, an epiphany or whatever the hell was going through his small head. I had been staring at everyone while I was talking. Most of these kids look like ghosts, like there not even there, two of them were staring at me wide eyed though, probably because I haven't said a single word since I got here yesterday. I didn't have a reason to. Besides, I was pissed that they took my iPod away. The bastards. I sighed and continued on my rant, pleased with the shocked and stunned faces I was getting from everyone.

"But this isn't about him, this isn't about the pizza guy, this isn't about the fishing network, this is supposed to be about me, right? Oh yes why I'm here. I was molested when I was in the second grade, my minister did it. I just got out of an abusive relationship, my mother hates my guts, and doesn't even look in my direction, she slapped me the other day, oh joy. My dad, my real dad, died when I was three, never knew the guy, he lost his life to the cause, aka the war.. Never had a father figure until about five months ago when mom married that tub of lard I was talking about earlier. My school despises me, apparently I'm a hooligan because I dye my hair pink and have a tattoo. I just had a major emotional breakdown, which lead me to this beautiful crazy house, I mean growth and nurturing facility. Sorry. I hope I didn't offend my fellow crazies by saying the last two sentences." My mentor's smile had faded away and had been replaced by a slanted attempt at a smile, as he started flipping through my files trying to find out why I was really here. The two kids that were actually listening were looking at me with horrified faces at what they had just heard; one of them looked close to tears. I was trying my best not to laugh. I sat down on the cold metal chair, one of the ten that they had put in a circle for /peer mediation time/. I chuckled a bit and stood back up, my mentor now shaking his head at my hopelessness. I gave everyone a big smile. Even the kids that had dozed off were looking at me frightened now.

"I'm sorry! I forgot, didn't I? Hello everyone. My name is Marie. Not Mary, like the fucking Queen of the Britain. Not fucking pot pie like fucking Marie Claire. None of those idiot names. Anyway crazies," I battered my eyelashes for effect, everyone had their mouths hanging open stupidly now, except for one kid who was smiling oddly. Note to self, I need to break him of that later. "My name is Marie. I'm borderline bipolar, and a pathological liar at times. Thank you." I sat down promptly and started to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Whatever his name was, Reggie, Ronald, Robert, something with an R I didn't really care to learn his name, my mentor, stood up and was looking at me and had a fake smile on his face, but you could tell he was getting ticked off. He opened his mouth and looked as though he was about to yell at me when a bell rang, dismissing us from peer mediation. I ran out of the room and started laughing as I walked into the hallway.

I really am borderline bipolar, but that's just a scapegoat disease they hand to anyone that they can't peg. I was weaving my way through the hallway, trying not to bump into any of the crazies. I'm not as psychotic as I act. I just like to freak people out. That's probably why I'm here. I do have a real dad. And my mom has never hit me in my life, but she hurts me emotionally, she really does ignore me and I haven't said two sentences to the woman since she sent me to boarding school. If you were to look at my house right now you'd probably think we were the average American family. We have a dog named skip (fuck. Don't look at me I didn't name the mutt), I have a younger sister that's been described as a piano prodigy, A dad (yes biological, my dad didn't die in the war, and yes this is the truth because I don't lie to myself, that's just stupid) that is a bowling champion, an mom who rules the corporate office and makes it home in time to make a fucking meatloaf for dinner, and an older brother who's studying at Harvard. The only problem with the family is me. I'm a fuckup, or so they say. I've had those words yelled at me so many times it's like it's been stapled on my forehead. After I got my lip pierced (which luckily the bastards here weren't able to take out, if they did I'll get an infection, idiots) she sent me to boarding school, where I defied as many people as possible which landed me in here. What did I do to get sent to Bakke's Institute for the Rehabilitation of Young People? I started one small gambling ring on the school's chess tournament. Big fucking deal. And I'm supposedly/ crazy/ because I tried to escape from school after the jig was up. Stupid, huh? So I come here and a Dr. Bryar (you have to say Dr. otherwise their soft ego's get damaged) diagnoses me as borderline bipolar, but I already knew that, and because I gave him lip apparently I'm also a pathological liar. I got three shiny prescriptions, oh goody. He was a giant man, I don't know why he's a doctor because he could easily be a pro wrestler like that. Anyway. I found myself in front of spotless clean nurse's station, at the end of my living corridor. I almost lost it laughing when I got ready to bug the nurse. They want me to be crazy, I'll be crazy.

"Oh NANCY BOY!" I had said it in a sing song voice. Apparently it worked because my nurse, a hot guy named Frank came out of his office with a scowl. You wouldn't even know he was a nurse if you took away his blinding white scrubs. He had his lip pierced, exactly like mine, and a ton of cool tattoos, and his hair was dyed at the sides. He was definitely the sort of guy I'd hang out with back home, the punky kid, who practically lived by his guitar. I battered my eyelashes yet again and his scowl didn't move. I liked him, duh. But I knew he wouldn't lose his job over me, and he definitely had a girlfriend, because he had a ring on his finger. So I kept up with the crazy act.

"Yes Kelsey?" Did I mention my name isn't Marie? Must have slipped my mind. He had his arms crossed, and even though he was short he looked pretty menacing.
"Where's my iPod Nancy?" He grimaced and sat down on his chair where he began to swivel around.

"They told me to take it, so you're not getting it back until you take your meds. And I'm Frank, but you know that don't you." I stuck my tongue out at him and he rolled his eyes and continued to swivel around.

"Sorry Nancy dear. I don't need 'em. But could you please,/ please get my iPod?/" I started to end the sentence seductively. For a supposed crazy chick I was hot by normal standards. I did have decent sized proportions and learned about when I was thirteen that I could get a lot of shit if I just poured on the charm, that probably why I get in trouble so much. I started to fan myself lazily and started to rub my neck through my stupid crazy person outfit they gave me (it's fucking hard to be seductive in some baby blue jumpsuit thing! You fucking try.). I tried not to smile when he stopped swiveling and was staring at me. Ha. Score. He sighed and pulled out my iPod and handed it to me with a small little plastic cup with some pills in it. He was looking around for someone to see and leaned forward.

"If anyone asks I saw you swallow? Got it?" I smiled and nodded and walked away happily. Before I took two steps I turned around to see him staring at me. I smiled and winked.

"Hey Frank! I never said I love your tats!" He blushed a bit. Aw cute. But off limits. Boo damn crazy house rules. I walked away down the hallway and put on my headphones and started to listen to Placebo, Meds. Irony is weird...
"Fucking shit!" Did I mention I like to curse? I found myself on the ground. Apparently I had run into one of the crazies, and he was rubbing his head and looking at me. I was lying on the ground and so was he. Hmmm it felt nice here on the floor. All cold and quiet. He stood up and held his hand out. I looked at it as though he was infected with germs. Well he was. Crazy people germs. I sighed and took his hand and he helped me stand up. When I did I saw that he was the guy in peer mediation that was smiling. His black hair was greasy, like everyone else's here (dude, a shower every other day? Where are we, the fucking zoo?) His eyes really struck me though, because they were sort of hazel, and really stood out, ya know? After a few seconds of me being dazed I realized that we were still holding hands and I let go right away.

"Hello Marie." Ahh! He's creepy like Tim Burton, or Dracula, or uhh... some other weird guy. Well, he was pretty cool looking; he did look like a vampire a bit (and vampires are fucking hot!). I gave him a small smile.

"Uh. My name's Kelsey. Sorry. I just wanted to freak my mentor out. What's-his-name. He smiled at me.

"Oh Ray. He's a pretty cool guy, if you give him a chance." Why was I still talking to him? I had my fucking iPod! Dude, I would totally die happy as long as I had my iPod. Hmmm... I could sprint to my room, and hope that the crazy person I share it with was hanging out in the wreck room (its supposed to be a rec. room, but it's really a fucking wreck. Crazy people not taking care of their stuff...) I guess he saw me daze off and smiled at me again. Ahh... My stomach just tingled. No! I will not fall for a crazy! A hot male nurse maybe, but not for a crazy.
"I'm Gerard. And I don't lie. I'm borderline bipolar also though." I nodded. He looked pretty sane. Which helped my /borderline bipolar is a phony illness theory/. "I just wanted to say hi. Maybe you'll come hang out with me a bit later in the art room? It's one of the only places they leave you alone, I guess they don't think it's possible to hurt yourself with a paintbrush, never tried it myself..." I laughed a bit. I liked this dude. Not like like, but like like. What ever. I nodded and gave him a smile that he returned.

"Sounds cool, never been much of an artist though." He smiled again. More fucking tingling. Stop fucking tingling stomach! I command you!

"Oh its okay, we can find something there you're good at. But I'll meet you there in about an hour? I need to talk to one of my friends over there..." I nodded and gave him the devil horns to which surprisingly he responded. Note to self; ask crazy kid, I mean Gerard, what sort of music he likes. I walked to my room and started humming again to my music.

"Hi Marie." It was my roommate. What's-her-name. I didn't bother correcting her, cause I still wanted to mess with her a bit. I pulled out the notebook they gave me and told me to "set my emotions free!". Idiots.

I grabbed a crayon. (yes, fucking crayons, because apparently they think you can stab yourself with a pen.) and wrote. In big letters all I was going to write for the day. (they picked it up at night and looked at what you wrote, how fucking messed up is that?)

I am NOT Fucking Crazy!!!
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