Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Circle of Fear

The Capture

by MyVengefulRomance 1 review

Capture, imprisonment, and (perhaps) escape. It's all a vicious cycle, repeated by a few sadistic monsters who enjoy human suffering. Only a lucky few make it to the last stage, and even fewer esca...

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: R - Genres: Angst, Drama, Horror, Romance - Characters: Frank Iero, Gerard Way - Warnings: [!] [R] [V] - Published: 2007-05-22 - Updated: 2007-05-22 - 2772 words

Disclaimer- I don't own. Wait, I-...nope, don't own.

A/N- I know I've been absent for awhile. And I have no excuse. I know you're waiting patiently for updates (maybe not). But, you know what, I've already told you about the way 'Little Bundle of Joy' would be just a side-project, and now I'm gonna tell you that 'When Love and Death Embrace' is going on hiatus officially. It will return, though.

IMPORTANT: This is my new series, guys. This is an insane, in-depth look at the capture, imprisonment, loss of life, and (maybe) escape. This is The Circle of Fear. Enter Frank's mind, in the form of his therapeutic journal. The dotted lines represent a different journal entry. Frank doesn't date his entries, he does title them. The title is in bold and underlined. When he does date them, it's most likely a flashback. Italics represent Frank's thoughts, and bold represent Frank's thoughts at the time of him writing the entry.

Warnings- (Ha, every time you see a 'warning' in my story, you know it's bad.) Gore, violence, mentions of rape, um...alcohol use, what else? Slight religious questioning and naughty language. Slash (kind of).

What's the Fucking Point Anymore?

Have you ever been so scared that your face lost all color and you started shaking, trembling so hard your teeth clattered and your bones shook? Have you ever been so terrified that nothing registered to you, your brain moved so sluggishly that you couldn't form a coherent thought? Have you ever been so afraid that you were unable to force yourself to move, to run away, to make your limbs work?

I have.

I don't know why I'm still here, or if I even deserve to be sitting here and writing to you. I don't think I do. If anything, I deserve to be the one six feet under, not him. He didn't deserve that. Besides, it was my fault. I was the one who provoked him. I was the one who told him to talk to that creepy man sitting in the corner of the bar. It was a stupid dare, one that cost his life, and should've cost mine.

When they found me, they told me that I was lucky. That they had gotten there just in time. Dammit, why did they have to even come 'just in time'? I ask whatever God there is every day, but I get no answer. Of course. I prayed for the first real time during that period of pure hell, praying for him to live, to keep breathing and his heart to keep beating. My prayers remain unanswered.

My therapist tells me it's not healthy to blame myself, that it's not my fault at all. And every time, I answer, "Yes it is." And nothing else is said on that matter. Because it is my fault, and I won't accept that it isn't. My therapist also tells me that it's not good to be so stubborn.

I don't care anymore, about anything. I'm a recluse now, a friggin' loner who talks to no one. Mikey hates me, Ray and Bob tried to get through to me but I refuse to talk to them, my parents hated me since I told them I was gay, I have no family and no friends. I'm alone in this world.

But he would never visit me in my dreams again if I killed myself. Of course I've thought about it, who wouldn't in my position? But I figure, my health's declining anyway, I've only got a few years left. So I'll just wait. I'll just wait until we can be together forever. Together in death. Sounds romantic, yes? That's my point.

I've never told anyone what happened. That's why I got this journal. My therapist actually suggested something, I'll write down what happened and then burn it to 'release me from the burden of these harmful thoughts'. At least, that's what she said. I know I'll always be 'burdened', but I guess it can't hurt.

This is the exact account of the events of April 29, 2007-October 31, 2007. This is the story of the ending of a young life, and the unraveling of a young mind.

About Me, I Guess

I figure you should now who I am, know who this is about. I don't know why I'm pretending that I'm talking to an actual person, I think that I've gone fucking insane. Being lonely, and all. I guess it has finally gotten to me.

ANYway, my name is Frank Iero. I'm an Italian kid who got so fucking lucky, and then that luck was swiped away and my life collapsed. I was in a band called My Chemical Romance, along with my best friend Gerard Way, his brother Mikey Way, and my other friends Ray Toro and Bob Bryar. I played guitar.

Well, long story short, My Chemical Romance got huge. Like, international fame, multiple awards, and a devoted fan-base. Huge. And, well, we were happy.

Gerard had gotten clean and sober, and we ditched our old drummer. We were on top of the world. And I was starting to notice things, like the way Gerard laughed and the way he looked at me like I was something special. And the way that I liked it.

One day, out of the blue, he kissed me. And I kissed him back. We fell in love, dated secretly, and then came out to the world.

It was a mixed reaction, really. My parents hated me, the rest of our band was fine with it, our manager was fine with it, Gerard's extended family was disgusted, my extended family was fine with, our fan-base was split into two, etc., etc., etc.

So we were now able to be openly together. Our relationship had always been rocky, with me messing up and him being messed up on the inside. But we loved each other. I can honestly say that we loved each other.

So, when he proposed, I said yes. We never got to wed.

April 29, 2007: Ghoulardi's Bar (Or, the Gates of Hell, If You Think About It)...

Gerard had just gone on a trip to visit his mother, who had been in the hospital and I stayed behind. He had just gotten back, so after fucking really hard (hell yeah) we went out to a bar to catch up and to just hang out. (We may have been dating, but he was still my best friend and we still did best friend things.)

He was drinking a Diet Coke (no alcohol for recovered alcoholics, of course.) and I had a bottle of beer. We were sitting in the back corner of the dim and smoky bar, in a booth, talking and laughing.

I don't remember how it happened, but I suddenly noticed this man watching us. I'll never forget the way he looked.

He was tall and burly, with wide shoulders and thick arms and legs. His face was sunburned, and his eyes had little crinkles in the corner. They were an ice blue, but his left was lighter, and had no pupil. His hair was brown, with gray strands through-out. His face was round, and his chin was strong. He looked to be in his late forties. And, even though his eye was creepy, he looked to be just a kind, older-than-me-thus-ancient man.

He didn't have scars, he wasn't scowling, he wasn't ugly, he just...was. He wasn't the stereotypical criminal. He wasn't even scary.

That's why, when I caught him watching, I leaned over and whispered jokingly, "Gee, that dude is checking you out."

Gerard blinked, discreetly following my gaze and looking at the man. His nose scrunched (adorably), and he turned back to me.

"Ewww...that's gross. Do you really think-?" he turned back to look at the man, before looking at me again, "Ewww!"

I laughed, "Why don't you go talk to him? I'm sure an old dude like him would love some hot company like you." Gerard narrowed his eyes at me, and scowled.

"He probably can't see good and thinks I'm a chick."

I burst out laughing. "Do you remember that one guy-?"

"Don't even go there," Gerard sighed, holding up a hand to stop me. Catching my breath, I said, "I dare you to go hit on him."

Gerard raised an eyebrow, and asked, "And how old are you, Frank?"

I shrugged, "I don't even know. Now, I dared you. Get your ass over there." Gerard stared at me and stood up, before shaking his head, "You're fucking infantile, Frank." I smiled, "I have no idea what that means."

Gerard gaped at me for a second, before shaking his head and turning towards the bar where the man was sitting. He then straightened his tight black shirt, fixed his black suit jacket that he was wearing for some reason, and flipped his shoulder-length black hair over his shoulder dramatically. Then, he sashayed over to the man, sliding as sexily as he could onto the stool next to him. (Gerard literally sashayed, which was pretty hilarious.)

I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I saw Gerard lean in close to the man, smiling coyly. He nodded, as though listening intently to the man. He was resting his head on his elbow, and still smiling and nodding.

I grinned. Gee had used those exact tactics on our first date. I fell head over heels for that man, for sure. Damn. Gerard's a friggin' genius.

I was watching closely, and then Gerard straightened up quickly. An emotion I couldn't recognize washed over his face, and he glanced over at me. I straightened up too, confused. The man looked at me, and smiled. It was the creepiest thing ever.

Gerard slid off the stool, and walked over to me stiffly.

"Frank," he said, chewing on his lip fearfully, "come on. We have to go with him, now."

"What? Why-?" I asked.

"Frank," Gerard said impatiently, glancing back at the man. He looked at me, his leg bouncing up and down, his face almost desperate. "We need to go. Now."

"I don't understa-," I frowned, confused, but Gerard cut me off, "No, Frank! We need to go with him!" His face was paler than usual, the desperate look in his wide, hazel eyes scaring me.

I stood up slowly, and asked, "Why?"

"He's got a gun," Gerard whispered, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "He'll kill us if we don't go with him."

I blinked. "Why don't we just-."

"Frank!" Gerard cried agitatedly, "We can't. He told me that he's killed before, and won't hesitate to shoot if we try anything."

I nodded numbly, following Gerard. I knew he hated guns, and was probably terrified. Actually, he was. I had my hand on his shoulder, to comfort him, and I could feel him shaking. I wasn't scared at this point. I figured that the man was bluffing, and that we'd be fine. Besides, there were people in the bar. He couldn't just pull out a gun and shoot. He couldn't.

But the second we were next to him, he looked at me in the eye and smiled again. "My name's Samuel. Your friend here, Gerard, told me that your name is Frank. Is that right?"

I nodded, staring with one eyebrow raised at the man. "What's this about?" I demanded, feeling defiant.

Samuel chuckled lightly, before grabbing Gerard's arm and pulling him toward his body. Gerard cried out, his eyes wide. I saw Samuel's arm slip into his pocket, and then come out again. I saw a flash of metal, and my heart caught in my throat.

"Now," Samuel said calmly, "Gerard, tell Frank what you feel in between your shoulder blades right now."

"Th-there's some...something h-hard poking me," Gerard stuttered. My eyes widened considerably. Samuel only smiled. I was now wondering why no one noticed the three of us standing there, with one (Gerard) shaking visibly. No one was paying attention, no one cared. They probably saw Gerard talking to him and thought we were friends.

"Yes, Gerard. Do you know what that is?" Samuel asked, his voice cheery and condescending. Gerard nodded slightly.


Samuel nodded, and smiled, "Let's go to my car, alright? And Frank, don't do anything stupid. I'll blow a hole through his chest without a thought."

I blinked. What choice had I but to obey? I didn't want my fiancé to get shot, but I didn't want to go with Samuel either. So with a sigh of resignation, I nodded and followed the two men out the bar's front door. No one spared us a passing glance.

Samuel led us to a white, rusty old van. At least the movies had that stereotype right.

As soon as we got to the van, Samuel released Gerard's arm. Gerard immediately ran to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. He was still shaking. I still wasn't scared. Right then, I was kind of numb to emotion. Gerard was friggin' terrified, which I felt bad about. Especially since this was my fault.

Samuel pointed the gun at me, and ordered, "Come here."

I gently pried myself from Gerard's death-grip, and walked up to Samuel. He said, "Turn around and put your hands behind your back."

Chewing my lip, knowing full well that the gun wasn't trained on me anymore, but on Gerard, I obeyed. I felt something rough go around my wrists, and I knew he was tying my wrists together with some sort of rope. He then shoved me into the van, and I bounced off it to the ground, losing my balance without the use of my hands. Gerard cried out, and I sighed. Gerard would probably be scared the entire time, and was already an emotional mess. I wasn't sure how we'd be able to escape with him being like this.

I watched Samuel tie up Gerard, who was crying, hard, now. Samuel slid open the van's door, and intertwined his hand tightly in Gerard's long hair. Gerard cried out again, louder this time. I winced.

Samuel's face contorted in a sudden rage, and I just sat there, still on the ground. He reached and grabbed the place where Gerard's wrists were bound together, and before I could do anything, he slammed Gerard's face into the side of the van. Gerard made a muffled cry, and Samuel pulled his head back. I got a glimpse of Gerard's face, the blood running down from his nose and his eyes wide and terrified. Then Samuel did it again. And again. And again. And again.

I could only watch, unable to find the will to get up. I was frozen in my spot, tears pouring down my face. Pretty soon, the white paint of the van was red, red with Gerard's blood. Every time Gerard's face met the metal of the van, his whole body jerked. He struggled in vain, unable to release himself from the larger man's grip. After about ten hits, Gerard was completely limp and Samuel was taking out his anger on the unconscious man.

I was sobbing, begging for him to stop, "Please, please...don't do that, please..." But I was unable to find the strength to get up. It was pure, unadulterated terror flowing through my veins. I knew that we had just been captured by a complete psycho. A psycho whose emotions turned on a dime.

Where the fuck were all the people I saw in the bar? Didn't they hear that noise?

Finally, finally Samuel lifted Gerard as if he were weightless and tossed him carelessly into the van, and I winced as I heard a dull thump. My eyes were riveted to the van, the red spot and the indent in the metal. Gerard's head had actually dented the van.

Samuel then stomped over to me, grabbing me by my bound wrists and lifting me as he did Gerard. I didn't fight. If I did manage to get him to release me, he had a gun and he had an unconscious Gerard. And after that display, I knew not to get on this strange man's bad-side. He could easily kill me, with his bare hands. So, I went limp.

As I was easily tossed into the van, landing on Gerard's limp body, I realized that it was not going to be easy to escape.

At least, escape alive.

A/N- Well, thanks for reading! More soon, I promise! Please review! offers muffins (That's right, I bribe with muffins and not cupcakes or cookies. I'M A NON-CONFORMIST!!!!!!!!!!!) Now, please. REVIEW!!!!
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