Bob stared up at the ceiling, watching swirls of cigarette smoke float around. 'Why do I even bother turning up to these things?' He muttered to himself. He was sandwiched between Ray and a wall which looked like it had had one coat too many of paint. At the other end of the couch Gerard was being questioned by and over enthusiastic barbie doll. Ray looked as bored as Bob, and every so often his head would jerk up and he'd open his eyes... for about two minutes. '...well thank you for talking to us and good look with the new single.' That was their cue to leave, Bob nudged Ray awake 'Its over, you can wake up.' Bleary eyed Ray looked round 'Yeah...great...thanks.' He shaked his mane of hair and got up. Bob trailed behind muttering 'It's always Gerard. Gerard this, Gerard that. Hello, you're interviewing My Chemical Romance not Gerard, so talk to ALL of us. If you're only gonna talk to Gerard and Mikey then say that, 'cuz it's all you fucking do.' Bob climbed up the steps if the tour bus, moodily he grabbed himself a beer and went into the cramped toilet. He tore off his jacket and flung it on the floor. He sat on the closed toilet and opened his beer as the bus lurched forward. After several swigs he put it on the floor and began to take his shirt off, revealing two bandaged arms. The bandages were a mouldy yellow. 'Fucking hell.' He spat under his breath. He could hear the others playing on the Playstation. Slowly he began to peel the bandages off, biting his lip to stop him from screaming as he pulled cotton from inbetween infected scabs. Finally he'd managed to extract the last of the bandages. His arms were a mixture of blood, puss and scabs. He reached up to the cupboard and took the first aid kit. Inside there was a knife. He took the knife and sliced off every scab on his arms. Puss began oozing out accompanied by blood. He filled the sink with warm water, added a handful of salt and lowered his arms. His eyes watered with pain and the water began to turn Crimson. After a few minutes he raised his arms, letting the blood run down his arms and drip onto the floor. He took some fresh bandages out of the kit and laid them out on his lap. Before he wrapped his arms up he took the knife and drove it into each wound, he began twisting the blade, slowly slicing the tissue. Pain surged through his body. His lips were white. Then he removed the blade and began to wrap his arms up once more. Blood covered the floor; the sink was a swirling pool of blood and water. As Bob pulled the plug and watched the sink empty he began humming 'I gave you blood, blood, gallons of the stuff...'
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