Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Stolen From My Eyes
Chapter 1
When a band member is kidnapped, will the other members find him? And how far will they go to get him back?
?Blocked
The intense pain in his arms was the first thing that he noticed when he awoke. The second thing he noticed was that he was hanging chained to a wall. He felt panic begin to set in as he wildly thrashed about in his restraints, trying to release himself. He looked around the room, trying to familiarise himself with his surroundings, trying to see if he could recognise where he was.
He was in a room, a fairly dark room. There were no windows but there was one flashing neon light on the ceiling. It instantly annoyed him and he tried to take his mind off of it and see if there was any way that he could escape. There was a door in the far right-hand corner of the room but he could see that it had two locks on it, and it looked pretty secure. The walls were dirty, the floor was dirty. The room looked like one of the rooms that people in horror movies wake up in before they are brutally tortured to death. That thought terrified him and he started screaming for help, for someone to tell him where he was, what was happening. His screams were to no avail however, as they just reverberated around the walls, making him feel claustrophobic.
He tried to decipher how he has gotten to be in this position, what was the last thing he could remember? He could remember after the concert going outside and talking to the fans, signing autographs and taking countless pictures with them. Then he remembered wanting a cigarette, one of the drawbacks of not drinking or doing drugs was that he was constantly smoking now. It was very windy and so he had gone into an alley with his bodyguard to shelter himself from the wind so he could light up the cigarette. That was the last thing he could remember...smoking. Maybe he had smoked a spliff by accident and was just incredibly high? No. There was no way that he or anyone else would let him get his hands on drugs again. There was no way this was just a dream...it was much too real. So he had gone into the alley, lit up a cigarette, and woken up chained to a wall in a dark cold empty room....something wasn't adding up here.
He started to panic again, but tried to calm himself down, knowing that it would do no good in this situation. He needed to stay calm. He had always been good at that, being calm under pressure. This was no different. He wasn't going to let himself panic again when he could be thinking about how to escape. Well the room looked like it had been made to keep someone in. There wasn't an obvious flashing neon sign reading "EXIT!" in bold letters. There were no windows. That thought scared him; he had no way of telling where he was, what time it was...that really scared him. He was securely chained to this wall and he could tell now that there was no way he was going to get out of the handcuffs unless he found the key. So all he could do now what wait, wait for someone to tell him why he was here. He was suddenly reminded of the film "Hostel" that all five of them had gone to see at the cinema a while ago. He prayed that someone wasn't going to come in with a drill and drill holes in him for their own sick pleasure. He couldn't see any instruments of torture in the room, and he was thankful for that as if there had been, he didn't think he would be able to keep his relatively calm state-of-mind.
The next thing he did was to see if he was injured, as he wanted to escape from here as soon as possible and that would be harder to do if one of his legs was crippled. He methodically moved each joint, making sure that he couldn't feel any pain. Other than the now-dull ache in his arms, he found that he was unharmed. That was one thing to be grateful for at least.
Though he seemed to be quite calm, he could feel his pulse racing in his chest and he was having trouble breathing, probably due to the small panic attack he had had earlier. Why would anyone take someone and lock him in a room, chained to a wall? What would be their motive? Maybe they knew who he was and wanted ransom? Or maybe it was some crazy fan girl trying to live her fantasy of being with Gerard Way? That was something they had always joked about, but what about if it had actually happened? Maybe someone it was just some sadistic man who wanted to torture and then kill him? Maybe it was the mafia? No wait a second, why would the mafia want him? He sighed and decided that he should just wait for someone to come in, passing the time by counting the cracks on the ceiling.
...eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen...
The door opened. He jumped in surprise, making the chains clang together noisily. A dark, large figure entered the room. He was wearing all black and he had a black balaclava covering his face. Gerard looked up at him with fire burning in his eyes, waiting for an explanation. He received none however, just a sharp kick to his left side and a punch to his temple, knocking him out cold.
He was in a room, a fairly dark room. There were no windows but there was one flashing neon light on the ceiling. It instantly annoyed him and he tried to take his mind off of it and see if there was any way that he could escape. There was a door in the far right-hand corner of the room but he could see that it had two locks on it, and it looked pretty secure. The walls were dirty, the floor was dirty. The room looked like one of the rooms that people in horror movies wake up in before they are brutally tortured to death. That thought terrified him and he started screaming for help, for someone to tell him where he was, what was happening. His screams were to no avail however, as they just reverberated around the walls, making him feel claustrophobic.
He tried to decipher how he has gotten to be in this position, what was the last thing he could remember? He could remember after the concert going outside and talking to the fans, signing autographs and taking countless pictures with them. Then he remembered wanting a cigarette, one of the drawbacks of not drinking or doing drugs was that he was constantly smoking now. It was very windy and so he had gone into an alley with his bodyguard to shelter himself from the wind so he could light up the cigarette. That was the last thing he could remember...smoking. Maybe he had smoked a spliff by accident and was just incredibly high? No. There was no way that he or anyone else would let him get his hands on drugs again. There was no way this was just a dream...it was much too real. So he had gone into the alley, lit up a cigarette, and woken up chained to a wall in a dark cold empty room....something wasn't adding up here.
He started to panic again, but tried to calm himself down, knowing that it would do no good in this situation. He needed to stay calm. He had always been good at that, being calm under pressure. This was no different. He wasn't going to let himself panic again when he could be thinking about how to escape. Well the room looked like it had been made to keep someone in. There wasn't an obvious flashing neon sign reading "EXIT!" in bold letters. There were no windows. That thought scared him; he had no way of telling where he was, what time it was...that really scared him. He was securely chained to this wall and he could tell now that there was no way he was going to get out of the handcuffs unless he found the key. So all he could do now what wait, wait for someone to tell him why he was here. He was suddenly reminded of the film "Hostel" that all five of them had gone to see at the cinema a while ago. He prayed that someone wasn't going to come in with a drill and drill holes in him for their own sick pleasure. He couldn't see any instruments of torture in the room, and he was thankful for that as if there had been, he didn't think he would be able to keep his relatively calm state-of-mind.
The next thing he did was to see if he was injured, as he wanted to escape from here as soon as possible and that would be harder to do if one of his legs was crippled. He methodically moved each joint, making sure that he couldn't feel any pain. Other than the now-dull ache in his arms, he found that he was unharmed. That was one thing to be grateful for at least.
Though he seemed to be quite calm, he could feel his pulse racing in his chest and he was having trouble breathing, probably due to the small panic attack he had had earlier. Why would anyone take someone and lock him in a room, chained to a wall? What would be their motive? Maybe they knew who he was and wanted ransom? Or maybe it was some crazy fan girl trying to live her fantasy of being with Gerard Way? That was something they had always joked about, but what about if it had actually happened? Maybe someone it was just some sadistic man who wanted to torture and then kill him? Maybe it was the mafia? No wait a second, why would the mafia want him? He sighed and decided that he should just wait for someone to come in, passing the time by counting the cracks on the ceiling.
...eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen...
The door opened. He jumped in surprise, making the chains clang together noisily. A dark, large figure entered the room. He was wearing all black and he had a black balaclava covering his face. Gerard looked up at him with fire burning in his eyes, waiting for an explanation. He received none however, just a sharp kick to his left side and a punch to his temple, knocking him out cold.
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