Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
My father beat me in high school. The students who were bigger than me, which many of them were, beat me up too. I never fought back because I knew I wouldn't be able to do anything about it in the end. My friends all knew about it but they just sat back and watched, accepting it as part of the way things were. It was sort of like a show to everyone else.
I'd been rushed to the ER quite a few times for broken ribs and such injuries as that. I'd even been shut in a locker for half a day once when some jock had an urge to stuff the shortest kid around him into anything he could find at the time. My mom was too tired after her night shift at the factory to notice the bruises or the way my dad would slink off to his room and leave me lying on the floor after he was drunk. She only said she would do something about it when I had had to go to the hospital.
The one memorable day I had in my school years was the day I met Gerard. He was new at my school, two years older than me, and seemed to not like to talk much. My other friends called him a fag and refused to go near him, but I was curious.
I sat down a few feet from him on the concrete flower bed. He didn't give any sign of noticing me except the slight action of brushing the hair of his eyes and turning the page in his notebook. He was drawing, I could tell, but I wasn't going to like lean over his shoulder to look, that would've been weird.
I started sitting there every day for a while until he started saying hello. I got the courage to sit closer and after a few more days we would carry on small conversations. By the next month we were best friends and everyone knew it. He couldn't see all the bruises I sported through the sweatshirt and long pants I always wore no matter what.
Then he saw me get hurt. He hadn't been around all the other times; gone off to the art room after school where I'd often find him drawing or painting. I was pinned to the tan colored wall next to the lockers, my face being smashed into the brick repeatedly by my dad. I wasn't yelling or anything, but he could see the silent tears streaming down my face as my skull collided with the surface. I was used to it; almost as if my body had been molded into the shape of the offending material to let it have as much effect as it wanted. He had done this once before; come to the school and punched me, taking out his anger at the world on me. No one ever stopped him. Even if the teachers saw, they would quickly go the opposite direction. My father continued to punch and beat me into the wall relentlessly.
I was close to blacking out when I felt the numbness in my head disappear. The pressure was suddenly off me and I could breathe again. Well, I could breathe better. My head was swimming so bad I didn't hear the angry shouts from my rescuer behind me or the sound of my attacker being forced to the ground. I didn't hear the crack as multiple body parts connected with fists, feet, or joints, or the scuffling on the floor while the two fought.
Gerard apparently won, because next thing I knew, he was picking me up off the floor and rushing me out of the building. I passed out in his arms feeling ashamed that I needed someone else to fight my battles for me, and scared of what would happen to Gerard when/if my father recovered.
When I woke up I could see white lights above me. I was back in the hospital. Gerard was sitting in a chair across the room from me; his black clothing, black hair, and pale whitish skin all contrasting with the white walls around him. He smiled when I opened my eyes and got up to come closer. He told me I had a concussion and had to stay in the hospital for a while so they could fix me up. Then my mom came in and thanked Gerard profusely. She had no idea who my father really was behind that faux compassion he radiated while around her before Gerard saved me.
The next day Gerard had to leave for school but he said he'd come back right afterward. Right before he left he paused, biting his lip next to my bed. Then he kissed me. It was really short and nervous, but he did. He pressed his lips to mine briefly and then left just as my mom returned from outside. He mumbled an anxious greeting to her and picked up his messenger bag. I watched him disappear around the corner and sunk back into the beeping of the machines around me.
When Gerard came back, my mom had just gotten back from getting a restraining order on my dad. My head was dizzy and I couldn't exactly think straight, but I remembered what Gerard had done before he'd left. He sat down and glanced up at me as if trying to speak but failing every time he thought of the words to say. He finally spoke in a whisper like he was telling some big secret. He said he was sorry for kissing me, that he was gross for doing that to someone younger than him and in a hospital bed, for Christ's sake. I told him he shouldn't be and I never said it was a bad thing, so he smiled awkwardly.
The next day was Saturday, so Gerard called his parents to ask if he could stay. I begged him to because I didn't want to stay in the beeping of the machines with only my mom. He spent the night sitting and sleeping in the chair next to my bed. I didn't go to sleep for an hour after he thought I was, staying up just to watch his chest rise and fall for every breath; making sure he was alive.
When I finally got out of the hospital three days later, my mom drove Gerard to our house since his parents weren't home for the day. He had been coming to stay with me after school every day. My body was still really sore, so we didn't do much. He was really quiet for some reason. It was weird already, so I didn't push him to talk.
On Sunday my mom went to church and left me at home. I invited Gerard over and he surprisingly accepted my offer. He wasn't as quiet as before. We were about an hour into his visit, sitting on the couch, when I leaned in and kissed him. I'd expected him to push me away and run out of the house, but he kissed me back. It wasn't needy or anything, just soft like he would stop if I wanted him to. But I didn't. We were interrupted by my mom who had just returned. She just stood there for a moment. My heart almost beat out of my chest. She rubbed the side of her face and looked at me. I almost cried, but I remembered Gerard was there. She told me it was wrong for me to kiss him like that, but I argued and asked why. She said it was because he was a guy and 2 years older than me.
The next week Gerard and I tried to steer clear of my mom. We still kissed, but not in my house, usually in the park next to his house. He spent a lot of time sketching me. I asked him why and he said nervously that it was because he thought I was really good looking and a perfect model for it. I told him I was ugly but he assured me I wasn't.
My mom finally gave in and apologized for overreacting. I was more shy than usual around her, but it meant Gerard could come over again. It wasn't toll 4 months later that we actually made out in public as our friends that we still had after coming out called it. We were both pretty shy, so it was kind of creepy.
A year later he had graduated from high school, I still had a year to go. He called me one night while I was eating and told me he was moving to Seattle. He came over and I just sat in his lap looking up at him. He said his parents were moving there and they wanted him to come too, that they weren't coming back. He was 18, but he still did what his parents told him to because of how insecure he was.
He fucked me that night. It started out with long apologetic kisses, but soon I had him down on my bed, legs entwined and skin on skin. He was gentle, so I wouldn't exactly call it fucking. We made sure to be quiet since my mom was in the room under us, but I didn't exactly know how thin the walls were.
He moved in the summer. He said he would visit, but I knew he'd never have enough money or the guts to travel that far alone. He called me every night for another year. By the time I graduated his voice sounded distant and sad almost. He didn't talk much, but told me he loved me multiple times during one call. He said stuff like, "Even if I never come back, don't forget me okay?" I didn't take it as anything serious.
The last time I heard his voice was on my answering machine. He had called only 2 minutes before I found the message. It said, "Life can be positive if you really try hard at it, but for me, it's not even worth living; not even for you. I'm sorry. I don't think hell could be worse, but that's probably where I'm going for this, so, I'll find out. I don't expect to see you any time soon, but... I love you okay? Remember that. You're beautiful Frank; so don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You're smart, you're funny..." his voice stopped for a moment as I heard him clear his throat; sniffling a little. "You're so perfect, you know? There's nothing wrong with you at all... You're too good for me, and I knew that from the beginning. I just wanted to say I love you one more time, okay? Go live a good life, find a girl, have some kids, alright? Live the life I could never let you... Yeah, so... see you... someday. I hope."
I knew what he was talking about from the beginning; he was going to kill himself. I tried to call him but he never answered. I broke down and cried right there on the floor of the kitchen. My mom was standing in the doorway. She wrapped me in her arms and rocked me back and forth like she did when I was a baby after having a bad dream. I sobbed in her embrace, wishing it was Gerard's and he was the one comforting me, not my mother. He would've brushed my tears away and chased all the bad things from my life.
We got the call the next day. The investigators had found his phone and called the number most frequently called on it. They told us his body had been found a ways downstream from the First Avenue South Bridge in the Duwamish River. It was 3 miles away from downtown Seattle where he lived. They said that the autopsy showed he'd been in the water since at least the evening before. His cheap watch wasn't waterproof, so it stopped at 6:56; 2 minutes after he'd called me from his cell.
A year later and here I am, sitting at his grave. I moved to Seattle after I'd graduated and got a job, but I hardly ever get out of the house. Gerard was right; life can be positive if you really try hard at it. I just didn't want to try without him.
Pain; this is my life.
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i wasnt gonna kill im when i started this, but i had to, i couldnt help it!
its not too good, but had an urge to throw someone off a bridge!
yeah, well im just in the mood for standalones right now, i dont know why. but, yeah. mehhh...
I'd been rushed to the ER quite a few times for broken ribs and such injuries as that. I'd even been shut in a locker for half a day once when some jock had an urge to stuff the shortest kid around him into anything he could find at the time. My mom was too tired after her night shift at the factory to notice the bruises or the way my dad would slink off to his room and leave me lying on the floor after he was drunk. She only said she would do something about it when I had had to go to the hospital.
The one memorable day I had in my school years was the day I met Gerard. He was new at my school, two years older than me, and seemed to not like to talk much. My other friends called him a fag and refused to go near him, but I was curious.
I sat down a few feet from him on the concrete flower bed. He didn't give any sign of noticing me except the slight action of brushing the hair of his eyes and turning the page in his notebook. He was drawing, I could tell, but I wasn't going to like lean over his shoulder to look, that would've been weird.
I started sitting there every day for a while until he started saying hello. I got the courage to sit closer and after a few more days we would carry on small conversations. By the next month we were best friends and everyone knew it. He couldn't see all the bruises I sported through the sweatshirt and long pants I always wore no matter what.
Then he saw me get hurt. He hadn't been around all the other times; gone off to the art room after school where I'd often find him drawing or painting. I was pinned to the tan colored wall next to the lockers, my face being smashed into the brick repeatedly by my dad. I wasn't yelling or anything, but he could see the silent tears streaming down my face as my skull collided with the surface. I was used to it; almost as if my body had been molded into the shape of the offending material to let it have as much effect as it wanted. He had done this once before; come to the school and punched me, taking out his anger at the world on me. No one ever stopped him. Even if the teachers saw, they would quickly go the opposite direction. My father continued to punch and beat me into the wall relentlessly.
I was close to blacking out when I felt the numbness in my head disappear. The pressure was suddenly off me and I could breathe again. Well, I could breathe better. My head was swimming so bad I didn't hear the angry shouts from my rescuer behind me or the sound of my attacker being forced to the ground. I didn't hear the crack as multiple body parts connected with fists, feet, or joints, or the scuffling on the floor while the two fought.
Gerard apparently won, because next thing I knew, he was picking me up off the floor and rushing me out of the building. I passed out in his arms feeling ashamed that I needed someone else to fight my battles for me, and scared of what would happen to Gerard when/if my father recovered.
When I woke up I could see white lights above me. I was back in the hospital. Gerard was sitting in a chair across the room from me; his black clothing, black hair, and pale whitish skin all contrasting with the white walls around him. He smiled when I opened my eyes and got up to come closer. He told me I had a concussion and had to stay in the hospital for a while so they could fix me up. Then my mom came in and thanked Gerard profusely. She had no idea who my father really was behind that faux compassion he radiated while around her before Gerard saved me.
The next day Gerard had to leave for school but he said he'd come back right afterward. Right before he left he paused, biting his lip next to my bed. Then he kissed me. It was really short and nervous, but he did. He pressed his lips to mine briefly and then left just as my mom returned from outside. He mumbled an anxious greeting to her and picked up his messenger bag. I watched him disappear around the corner and sunk back into the beeping of the machines around me.
When Gerard came back, my mom had just gotten back from getting a restraining order on my dad. My head was dizzy and I couldn't exactly think straight, but I remembered what Gerard had done before he'd left. He sat down and glanced up at me as if trying to speak but failing every time he thought of the words to say. He finally spoke in a whisper like he was telling some big secret. He said he was sorry for kissing me, that he was gross for doing that to someone younger than him and in a hospital bed, for Christ's sake. I told him he shouldn't be and I never said it was a bad thing, so he smiled awkwardly.
The next day was Saturday, so Gerard called his parents to ask if he could stay. I begged him to because I didn't want to stay in the beeping of the machines with only my mom. He spent the night sitting and sleeping in the chair next to my bed. I didn't go to sleep for an hour after he thought I was, staying up just to watch his chest rise and fall for every breath; making sure he was alive.
When I finally got out of the hospital three days later, my mom drove Gerard to our house since his parents weren't home for the day. He had been coming to stay with me after school every day. My body was still really sore, so we didn't do much. He was really quiet for some reason. It was weird already, so I didn't push him to talk.
On Sunday my mom went to church and left me at home. I invited Gerard over and he surprisingly accepted my offer. He wasn't as quiet as before. We were about an hour into his visit, sitting on the couch, when I leaned in and kissed him. I'd expected him to push me away and run out of the house, but he kissed me back. It wasn't needy or anything, just soft like he would stop if I wanted him to. But I didn't. We were interrupted by my mom who had just returned. She just stood there for a moment. My heart almost beat out of my chest. She rubbed the side of her face and looked at me. I almost cried, but I remembered Gerard was there. She told me it was wrong for me to kiss him like that, but I argued and asked why. She said it was because he was a guy and 2 years older than me.
The next week Gerard and I tried to steer clear of my mom. We still kissed, but not in my house, usually in the park next to his house. He spent a lot of time sketching me. I asked him why and he said nervously that it was because he thought I was really good looking and a perfect model for it. I told him I was ugly but he assured me I wasn't.
My mom finally gave in and apologized for overreacting. I was more shy than usual around her, but it meant Gerard could come over again. It wasn't toll 4 months later that we actually made out in public as our friends that we still had after coming out called it. We were both pretty shy, so it was kind of creepy.
A year later he had graduated from high school, I still had a year to go. He called me one night while I was eating and told me he was moving to Seattle. He came over and I just sat in his lap looking up at him. He said his parents were moving there and they wanted him to come too, that they weren't coming back. He was 18, but he still did what his parents told him to because of how insecure he was.
He fucked me that night. It started out with long apologetic kisses, but soon I had him down on my bed, legs entwined and skin on skin. He was gentle, so I wouldn't exactly call it fucking. We made sure to be quiet since my mom was in the room under us, but I didn't exactly know how thin the walls were.
He moved in the summer. He said he would visit, but I knew he'd never have enough money or the guts to travel that far alone. He called me every night for another year. By the time I graduated his voice sounded distant and sad almost. He didn't talk much, but told me he loved me multiple times during one call. He said stuff like, "Even if I never come back, don't forget me okay?" I didn't take it as anything serious.
The last time I heard his voice was on my answering machine. He had called only 2 minutes before I found the message. It said, "Life can be positive if you really try hard at it, but for me, it's not even worth living; not even for you. I'm sorry. I don't think hell could be worse, but that's probably where I'm going for this, so, I'll find out. I don't expect to see you any time soon, but... I love you okay? Remember that. You're beautiful Frank; so don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You're smart, you're funny..." his voice stopped for a moment as I heard him clear his throat; sniffling a little. "You're so perfect, you know? There's nothing wrong with you at all... You're too good for me, and I knew that from the beginning. I just wanted to say I love you one more time, okay? Go live a good life, find a girl, have some kids, alright? Live the life I could never let you... Yeah, so... see you... someday. I hope."
I knew what he was talking about from the beginning; he was going to kill himself. I tried to call him but he never answered. I broke down and cried right there on the floor of the kitchen. My mom was standing in the doorway. She wrapped me in her arms and rocked me back and forth like she did when I was a baby after having a bad dream. I sobbed in her embrace, wishing it was Gerard's and he was the one comforting me, not my mother. He would've brushed my tears away and chased all the bad things from my life.
We got the call the next day. The investigators had found his phone and called the number most frequently called on it. They told us his body had been found a ways downstream from the First Avenue South Bridge in the Duwamish River. It was 3 miles away from downtown Seattle where he lived. They said that the autopsy showed he'd been in the water since at least the evening before. His cheap watch wasn't waterproof, so it stopped at 6:56; 2 minutes after he'd called me from his cell.
A year later and here I am, sitting at his grave. I moved to Seattle after I'd graduated and got a job, but I hardly ever get out of the house. Gerard was right; life can be positive if you really try hard at it. I just didn't want to try without him.
Pain; this is my life.
---------------------
i wasnt gonna kill im when i started this, but i had to, i couldnt help it!
its not too good, but had an urge to throw someone off a bridge!
yeah, well im just in the mood for standalones right now, i dont know why. but, yeah. mehhh...
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