FicWad

Don't get me wrong, I'm not asking anyone for sympathy.

I'm sure you remember me. I'm Gerard Way -- the one with the pale face and the lank black hair. You could honestly say I haven't changed since we were last together. I'm still pale, and my hair is still lank and black, greasy as ever.


Do you remember the last time we were together? I do. It stays fresh in my mind like a bullet, and every time I think of it, it hurts.

I was in my red tie, and it was just after we'd performed a show in front of about a thousand kids. I was more drunk than anyone there, and I thought we were the shit. We were the life of the party. Anyone who messed with us would get beef, and we'd make sure they didn't look pretty afterwards.

It was Frank's car we drove in, I know that because it had a constant smell of smoke and old fast food junk, and other rubbish littered the floor like you wouldn't believe. There were eight of us -- I remember that, we were all squished together like sardines. Eight people in a small, 5 seater car just doesn't cut it.

I think we were all drunk, except for poor Ray, who was dragged into this by his ankles with his fingernails digging into the ground. He really didn't want to get into that car -- and looking back, I can't blame him.

I was sat in the passenger seat next to Frank, who was driving. I can recall you sitting on my lap so clearly, because you were so drunk that you threw up all over my legs before passing out. The medics must have been scared to go near me with that smell hovering around me.

There's no mistaking that I was high on adrenaline and cocaine, I'd managed to score almost an eight-ball before that night. I was saving it up for some special night -- that was the special night, and it turned out to be far more "special" than anyone had ever thought. Looking back, the look on Ray's face really upset me, but I was so wasted and caught up in the moment that I didn't think anything of it. He was pleading with me to let him stay out of the hype, and if I had, he might just still be alive to this day.

I still can't believe that Frank was driving on the wrong side of the road, on the MOTORWAY for fuck's sake. I think he was as high as I was, maybe a little bit more wasted. What the hell am I on? It doesn't matter who was more wasted than who, we were all jackasses to try pulling off a stunt like that.

I felt you tense above me, because you were scared when you saw some huge truck coming towards the car. However, that was only a warning. We should have turned right around on the spot and gone the right way. But, acting stupid as we were, we carried on.

It was only a small Toyota driving at the right speed on the right side of the road that sent our car veering off into the motorway barriers. I felt that familiar feeling of having too much alcohol and lurching forward to throw up, and a loosening burden of weight on my lap.

But I didn't throw up.

As for the weight shifting from my lap, it was because the car had come to a lurching holt. We didn't think seatbelts were cool then, we didn't need them because we were invincible. For a split second, I saw your dead body sprawled across the bonnet of the car. The brown eyes under your glasses were wide open, but they weren't moving. Or looking. Or living. You lay there, spread eagles and motionless, and for my last few seconds of awareness, the sight broke my heart.

I feel dirty and unclean for what happened. I don't know if you died instantly or not, but what I do know is that i still wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for your body cushioning my fall, or should I say, trip. For lack of a better word, you understand.

Everything went black after a few seconds, and I was still laying on top of you. I thought you might like to know this, because I feel I owe you an explanation. It's not every day that something like this would happen.

Anyway, the paramedics rushed me into hospital. You were in a bodybag laying next to me, limp and lifeless. So I've been told, anyway. Everyone else was there, Ray was in a coma, and Frank was the only one with a seatbelt, so he only had a few cuts and a broken collarbone. That lucky bastard got away with it.

Bob and the three girls who decided to tag along after the gig came out okay, but they were really shaken up at what happened. It really doesn't surprise me, you must have to be psycho not to be shaken up by it.

Although the doctors did everything they could, my neck was broken, and the top of my spinal chord had shattered, so that meant that there was no way I'd ever be able to move again. Thirty-two fractures -- I'd like to see someone beat that!

Anyway, two big chards of glass bad been lodged into my eyes and mouth, so apart from losing my sight, my tongue healed, so at least I can still speak.

I can still hear everything that goes on around me. Although being locked in the darkness was quite daunting at first, I'm growing used to it now, and I like to think of my ears as a sort of light that helps me guide my way through communication.

Last week, the doctors noticed that my leg had turned gangrenous due to lack of circulation -- I can't move, remember? So, now I only have one leg. I still live in this hospital bed, and it's been a year now. I have practically no forms of human contact these days, and every day drags by worse than yesterday, because I know that tomorrow will be just as tedious as today, and the day after, and so forth.


Don't get me wrong, I'm not asking anyone for sympathy.


I only want people to listen. If I could turn back time to do anything, it would be bringing you back into the world, because I'd know you'd care. You don't know how much it hurts without you being here, without your presence walking the earth, brightening people's lives because that's what you did. Now mine is completely grey. Or a darker shade of red, I should say, because that's what it looks like when you're blind.

I had a long talk with the nurse who cares for me yesterday. Her name is Joyce, and she's a caring soul. I've asked her to turn off the life support I'm attatched to, so that I can come and be with you. At first, I could hear her crying, because I know that she /cares/. It's not often that people care about drug-ridden oafs like myself, and much as it hurts to say that, it's true.

Eventually, Joyce agreed to turn off my life support. I'm a vegetable, tied to these bedsheets like some prisoner of war or something. I'm looking forward to seeing you again anyway.

Oh! She must have caught me off guard, because here she is now. I can hear her feet come bustling in, the familiar pitter-patter that I'm used to because I've heard it so many times. She asks me if I'm okay, and I can here her start to sob when I tell her that I will be.

I can't wait to see you again, Mikey. I'll be there soon -- I just hope the Devil doesn't do me justice for the drink and drugs. I know you've gone to Heaven; you were too innocent for the Devil's dirty hands, unlike myself.


I'll soon find out. She's about to pull the plug, and I just want to say that I love you.

--- Help! Help me, Mikey! I'm choking! I--I can't move! Help! --- I grit my teeth in pain and aggravation as the lack of oxygen consumes my body.



That's when my world fades to black.