FicWad

Dark. Dark night. Night was dark. Or was dark night? No, night was dark. Stupid question. Most questions were stupid, weren't they? Questions like 'What's the meaning of life?' Well nobody knows what the fuck life is and what the fuck the meaning of it is, so stop asking. Maybe the meaning of life was to die, or maybe the meaning of life was to live, ever think of that? Girl walked down the dark night towards her home, hands in her pockets, dark brown hair curling down just past her shoulders, wet from the rain that poured down. She kept walking through the sleet and rain, feeling nothing. She was numb. Completely numb, the only thing she could feel being the soft pounding of her heart in her chest.
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Gerard frowned. Why did this little sketch of some girl feel more real than any other? Why did it look like something happening, something other than a comic? He frowned, leaning over the drawing and flipping over the page, beginning to sketch again, when the tour bus took a sharp turn and the pencil scraped across the girl's cheek.
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Girl yelped and slid to her knees, feeling her cheek as the blood fell down her face. Why was the blood gray? The blood was a led-colored gray, not blood. Not blood at all.
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The drawing was coming faster than ever. It was of some eleven year old girl, on her knees in the rain, hand on her cheek and golden brown eyes staring widely at the sidewalk of the city she was in.
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She was thinking now, ignoring the cut and walking again. The blood had stopped seeping and caused her no pain anymore, for she was numb.
'So fucking worthless.' She whispered, hands in the black hoodie's pockets. With a scowl the girl kept walking, until her cell phone rang. No, it wasn't her cell phone, it was her older brother's. She had borrowed it from him when her mother made her, some sort of 'protection' thing. Girl scraped at her pocket until finally the phone came out, and she scowled, showing her not perfectly white teeth and pointed k-9 teeth.
You're a fucking vampire. Her brother had said, laughing. She didn't care about him then. She cared about answering the cell phone, talking, hanging up and crying. Crying?
Girl paused, and suddenly she seemed to change. Her mental state changed, as if someone was just deciding on her future. Like somebody knew what was going to happen to her Mother, who was dying of cancer. Dying? She gasped, answering the phone.
'You answered.' The person on the other end said, and Girl let out her breath.
'She's dead. Mom's dead.' Girl said, puffing out her breath.
'How did you-' She began, but Girl flipped the phone closed and shoved it into her pocket. Nothing. It was nothing, she kept telling herself as several tears flowed down her cheeks freely.
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Why did this feel so real to him? Why was this just... right? Gerard sighed, setting the pencil down over the girl, who was standing in the rain, crying slightly. He had made up a future for her, but he didn't make up the past. No- he didn't make up the past. He knew the past. She had an older brother, and just a mother. Her father had divorced several years before, and they lived in Chicago then- in the Suburbs. She was in the city for a change, walking towards her brother's apartment that she had been sent to before she left to go see her best friend who was in the hospital, when her mother made her take a cell phone. It was too real. Too right. None of his drawings ever felt like this.
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Girl gasped, walking furiously in random directions, few people who were on the street looking at her strangely as she burst out into a run. Why was she running, and where? She was running away, away from it all because she needed to be away.
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Gerard looked at the next drawing he had drawn, of her running in the middle of Chicago at night, where Gerard was then. Bob needed to visit his family (something had come up- what had it been, a wedding or something?), so they all came along for a bit. And now Gerard was waiting, when he began drawing... Carving an outline of a girl's life.
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'No!' Girl yelled, tripping and landing on her jean-covered knees, her hoodie sticking close to her frame which wasn't dead skinny and wasn't fat. Her face wasn't perfectly matched, either; she had a large nose and a mole on her cheek, along with a boyish, hard chin, but she had a way of making herself look pretty no matter what she really looked like. Girl stood slowly, cringing at the new pains that spread throughout her body.
'What's happened to me?' She whispered, shaking.
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Gerard shivered, looking at the girl on her hands and knees, with tears falling from her eyes along with the scratched on blood from her original cut. Her brother abused her, he knew that- but her mother didn't believe her. Why not? Why didn't the woman believe that her own daughter's brother abused her? She wasn't insane... Was she?
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I'm not insane... Am I? Girl thought, walking silently.
'I'm insane.' She whispered, walking quickly past anything until she ran into someone. Girl stepped back, looking up at the man for a second and then back down to the ground, murmuring a quiet,
'Sorry,' and walking away. The man- who had sharp features and short black hair- looked at her for a moment, then walking away.
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Mikey walked through the door to the hotel they had stayed in, and instantly looked down at the papers Gerard had been drawing (the man was too absorbed in his work) and took a sharp intake of breath.
'Gee,' He said, and Gerard snapped up, almost trying to conceal his work but ignoring it. 'Gee, I swear I just saw that girl outside...' Mikey said quietly, looking at the pictures, and then picking up one single one, the one he had just finished.
'What do you mean, you just saw her?' But Mikey dropped the picture and slid out the door to the hotel and didn't bother closing it. Gee dropped the picture and ran after him, coming down the stairs and then out of the place.
The paper from his notebook floated to the ground slowly, a red color smeared on it across something...
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Girl held it in her hands, nobody around her. She lifted it up, tears flowing down her cheeks as she brought it down to slam into her body.
'No!' Somebody yelled, smashing into Girl. She shrieked, the knife clattering to the ground as she fell, the man she had ran into before on top of her. 'Oh,' He began, seeming embarassed that he had landed on top of her. The man stood, helping her up.
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'Mikey, what the fuck are you-' Gerard began, but cut himself off when he saw the knife outlined on the sidewalk and Mikey holding a girl up from sliding to the ground, as if she were weak. Gerard's mouth dropped and he closed it, biting his tongue. The girl stood up straight, rubbing her head.
'Who are...' Gerard began, but the girl shook her head.
'My name is Riley.' She said in a Chicago accent, turning and walking away quickly.
'No, you can't just go, you just tried to fucking kill yourself!' Mikey said, but Riley shook her head.
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Riley kept walking. She didn't know where she was going, she didn't really know who she was anymore. The girl supposed it was a good thing that her mother died- without death there would be no life, no happiness in it anyway. Without bad no one would know good; nothing would be good. It would be terrible. Death was a gift- many were just to ignorant to realize that.
'Yes,' She whispered to herself, '-death is a gift.'
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Gerard looked at the picture where the girl had stabbed herself, not knowing exactly what he was seeing.
The drawing was blue, completely blue. It looked sort of like a lake- Lake Michigan? There was this one small thing- the shape of a hand or something- sliding out of the water. He sighed, dropping the paper and turning on the TV, instantly falling asleep on the couch.

He awoke, the TV still on. Gerard sat up, rubbing his eyes and running a hand through his blonde hair. He looked up to see the TV showing Lake Michigan, and then the picture of the girl he had met last night.
'Riley Allen was found early this morning, her body washed up on shore, with a note in her pocket, inside a bag. This is what it reads:
You know that you can't make me stay.
But where's your heart?
You know there's nothing you can say to change that part.
All the bright lights cast a shadow.
I can't speak.
It isn't hard understanding I'll never be complete.
My life is so demanding.
I'm always so weak.
My love is really nothing.
I can't speak.
I am afraid to keep on living.
I am afraid to walk this world alone.
If you stay you'll be forgiven.
Everything you say will stop me going home.
These are my Famous Last Words.
Unquote.' Gerard picked up his notebook of songs, flipping to a specific song. The song hadn't been released yet.
They hadn't decided on a name yet, but Gerard knew it now.
Famous Last Words.