Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Innocence Eternal
Chapter Three
5 reviewsSorry for the delay, and thanks for the reviews! Please read and review!
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` Disclaimer- I don't own anything recognizable, but everything else is mine; this never happened.
A/N- See first chapter for important author's notes and warnings. Brendon's still five in this chapter. Gah. I'm tired. I can't keep my eyes open. But I'm still going to keep writing. 'Cause I beast. Enjoy...
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It was raining in the cemetery. It was raining, and Brendon was angry.
His tiny fists were balled up, his chocolate eyes glimmering with unshed tears as he watched the sleek black coffin be lowered into the ground. The smelly, fat woman who had taken charge of Brendon had a meaty hand on his shoulder, and he was seriously considering slapping her hand off of him.
Brendon was angry, for the simple reason that he didn't understand what was going on. He didn't understand why, when he had finally ventured downstairs that night, his mommy had been covered in that thick, ugly, red liquid. He didn't understand why those men took his mommy away that night, six days ago.
He didn't understand why his mommy hadn't woken up at the hospital the next morning, or why the yelling doctors had pushed him away from her when that loud beeping noise had filled the room. He didn't understand what those paddles were for.
He didn't understand why his mommy was in that black box, especially when she was only sleeping.
The police had told him that his mommy was dead, gone, but Brendon didn't believe it. His mommy wouldn't leave him! She loved him too much. And he loved her too much.
But right now, as the box was lowered into the ground, realization hit him like a brick.
His mommy /wasn't /coming back.
Those men were telling the truth. Mommy was gone, and it was raining.
The Fat Lady, Missy, her name was, told him that a funeral was supposed to be a celebration of Mommy's life. Brendon understood that much of today, but there were a few questions nagging at the back of his young mind.
If this was a celebration, where were all the people?
The only people in the cemetery were Brendon, the Fat Lady, the priest, the gravedigger, and various mourners for their own families' graves.
Why was there no one there for his mommy? Didn't they realize how amazing she was? How sweet and caring and pretty she was?
Fat Lady didn't count as a mourner. She had actually tried to talk Brendon out of coming today, saying that it wasn't healthy for such a young boy to witness something as tragic as this. Brendon had thrown a full-blown temper tantrum, screaming and crying and yelling about how he needed to see his mommy be laid to rest.
Why would his mommy leave him like this?
She had to have known how much Brendon relied on her. He was lost without his mother. Lost and confused. And angry because he didn't know what to do with himself or with his emotions. Fat Lady didn't help. She just yelled at him for being too loud or being to quiet, being too lazy or being too active, or just existing.
Why couldn't he do anything right?
Brendon was sure that everything that was happening was his own fault. His mommy wouldn't have died if he hadn't stayed upstairs when it had gone quiet. In the back of his mind, he kept telling himself that he could've saved her. And because no one told him otherwise, he believed himself to the point that he hated himself. Plus, Fat Lady yelling at him for everything he did wasn't helping at all.
Why was God making it rain?
He had to know that Mommy loved the sun. He knew everything, didn't He? But, then again, why would He take Mommy away from Brendon? Brendon needed his mommy. God had to have known that.
New questions arose in the boy's mind as he stood there, eyes narrowed as he bit down hard on his bottom lip. His young mind was buzzing, and his head began to throb. Anger filled his entire being, and he felt as if he was going to explode.
He screamed.
Fat Lady gasped, and everyone turned to look at the now visibly shaking boy. Blood ran down his thin fingers as he clenched his fist so hard his nails bit into his palm, hard enough to break his skin. His head was lowered, his face drained of all color.
Fat Lady asked incredulously, "Brendon-?"
"Shut up," he spat. "Take me home."
Fat Lady hesitated, "But-."
"Now!" Brendon shrieked, fixing her with the fiercest, most intense angry glare she'd ever seen. Fat Lady blinked, suddenly slightly frightened of this five-year-old.
"Oh-okay," she stammered, reaching for his hand to lead him to her car. He tore his hand away, stuffing them in his pants pockets. She blinked, surprised at the sudden change in the normally quiet boy. Together, they trudged to her car, both deadly silent.
By the time Brendon slid into the passenger seat, he had a twisted grin on his full lips.
It was silent again.
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A/N- Uh-oh. You know that can't be good...thanks for reading. Please review. Thanks again! Next chapter will be up soon...if you review, that is. grins**
A/N- See first chapter for important author's notes and warnings. Brendon's still five in this chapter. Gah. I'm tired. I can't keep my eyes open. But I'm still going to keep writing. 'Cause I beast. Enjoy...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was raining in the cemetery. It was raining, and Brendon was angry.
His tiny fists were balled up, his chocolate eyes glimmering with unshed tears as he watched the sleek black coffin be lowered into the ground. The smelly, fat woman who had taken charge of Brendon had a meaty hand on his shoulder, and he was seriously considering slapping her hand off of him.
Brendon was angry, for the simple reason that he didn't understand what was going on. He didn't understand why, when he had finally ventured downstairs that night, his mommy had been covered in that thick, ugly, red liquid. He didn't understand why those men took his mommy away that night, six days ago.
He didn't understand why his mommy hadn't woken up at the hospital the next morning, or why the yelling doctors had pushed him away from her when that loud beeping noise had filled the room. He didn't understand what those paddles were for.
He didn't understand why his mommy was in that black box, especially when she was only sleeping.
The police had told him that his mommy was dead, gone, but Brendon didn't believe it. His mommy wouldn't leave him! She loved him too much. And he loved her too much.
But right now, as the box was lowered into the ground, realization hit him like a brick.
His mommy /wasn't /coming back.
Those men were telling the truth. Mommy was gone, and it was raining.
The Fat Lady, Missy, her name was, told him that a funeral was supposed to be a celebration of Mommy's life. Brendon understood that much of today, but there were a few questions nagging at the back of his young mind.
If this was a celebration, where were all the people?
The only people in the cemetery were Brendon, the Fat Lady, the priest, the gravedigger, and various mourners for their own families' graves.
Why was there no one there for his mommy? Didn't they realize how amazing she was? How sweet and caring and pretty she was?
Fat Lady didn't count as a mourner. She had actually tried to talk Brendon out of coming today, saying that it wasn't healthy for such a young boy to witness something as tragic as this. Brendon had thrown a full-blown temper tantrum, screaming and crying and yelling about how he needed to see his mommy be laid to rest.
Why would his mommy leave him like this?
She had to have known how much Brendon relied on her. He was lost without his mother. Lost and confused. And angry because he didn't know what to do with himself or with his emotions. Fat Lady didn't help. She just yelled at him for being too loud or being to quiet, being too lazy or being too active, or just existing.
Why couldn't he do anything right?
Brendon was sure that everything that was happening was his own fault. His mommy wouldn't have died if he hadn't stayed upstairs when it had gone quiet. In the back of his mind, he kept telling himself that he could've saved her. And because no one told him otherwise, he believed himself to the point that he hated himself. Plus, Fat Lady yelling at him for everything he did wasn't helping at all.
Why was God making it rain?
He had to know that Mommy loved the sun. He knew everything, didn't He? But, then again, why would He take Mommy away from Brendon? Brendon needed his mommy. God had to have known that.
New questions arose in the boy's mind as he stood there, eyes narrowed as he bit down hard on his bottom lip. His young mind was buzzing, and his head began to throb. Anger filled his entire being, and he felt as if he was going to explode.
He screamed.
Fat Lady gasped, and everyone turned to look at the now visibly shaking boy. Blood ran down his thin fingers as he clenched his fist so hard his nails bit into his palm, hard enough to break his skin. His head was lowered, his face drained of all color.
Fat Lady asked incredulously, "Brendon-?"
"Shut up," he spat. "Take me home."
Fat Lady hesitated, "But-."
"Now!" Brendon shrieked, fixing her with the fiercest, most intense angry glare she'd ever seen. Fat Lady blinked, suddenly slightly frightened of this five-year-old.
"Oh-okay," she stammered, reaching for his hand to lead him to her car. He tore his hand away, stuffing them in his pants pockets. She blinked, surprised at the sudden change in the normally quiet boy. Together, they trudged to her car, both deadly silent.
By the time Brendon slid into the passenger seat, he had a twisted grin on his full lips.
It was silent again.
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A/N- Uh-oh. You know that can't be good...thanks for reading. Please review. Thanks again! Next chapter will be up soon...if you review, that is. grins**
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