Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Can't Find The Way Home
I Can't Help But Think I'll Die Alone
5 reviewsGerard's an orphan, it's his birthday and all he wants is to get out of that place. Will his birthday wish be granted when the Ways come to visit?
5Insightful
Mhm, another fic by me. I had to get the idea out if my head and now its just more on my list. sigh but whatever.
Kay. Don’t think there’s much else to say, now scroll down and reaaad.
Can’t Find The Way Home.
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Chapter one; I Can’t Help But Think I’ll Die Alone.
My name is Gerard. That’s all I knew of myself. I don’t have a last name; well no one knows what it is. I don’t know who my parents are; nor do I care. I know nothing of my culture, or birthrights. I didn’t know why I was even sent to Earth if I was going to be given up, not long after my existence commenced. I knew I wasn’t loved, or appreciated or else I would not be here. I’ve been here, at St Mary’s Orphanage for the entire thirteen years of my subsistence.
I was deserted on the doorstep, a torn piece of parchment stapled to my thin blanket, reading my name, on the 9th of April, Thirteen years ago today. so that’s when my birthday was celebrated; not that they celebrated birthdays here. Especially not mine. I’m not really the most wanted person here. Personally, I think I’d do better on the bitter, dangerous streets of New Jersey. Sitting in a gloomy alley way alone at dusk was better than having my comic books snatched off me and then ripped into pieces. I’m just the kid they make fun of, I’ve learnt to deal. With the help of my single friend, Frank. Frank was eleven years old and he too has been at St Mary’s since he was born, due to his mother being only fifteen years of age when she gave birth to him and his father, unidentified. There’s America for you, I guess. Frank’s mother had come back to visit him three or four times but Frank was not, and still isn’t in any mood to return to her. And I don’t blame him.
I stood at the doorstep I laid on when I was merely half the size of it and sighed. The warm, humid spring breeze filled my lungs as it squeezed through the cracks in the door. I gazed out the window, which was covered in a layer of early morning frost. I covered my knuckles with my thin jacket and used my wrist to clear the frost so I could see properly. I stood on the tip of my toes so I could reach the small window. Flowers had begun blossoming on the tall tree that stood high in the front yard. They were a soft pink colour that looked moist from the dew. I wondered how they would smell, I had never actually smelt a flower; we were rarely allowed outside. But hopefully that would change and I would be out of this old, crooked house by this afternoon. That was my only wish; to escape this place.
Everyone was called to breakfast, which I decided to ignore. It’s not like they were feeding us anyway. Footsteps where heard, thumping loudly as everyone rushed down the stairs to be first in line. The loud bickering of the various aged children filled the air. I was purposely knocked on the back of the head once or twice which I also ignored, along with the constant insults. The noise quietened as everyone was in the small kitchen.
“Gerard,” Frank called from the entrance to the kitchen. “C’mon.” he waved his hand, gesturing for me to hurry up. I groaned but without arguing, followed through to the cramped excuse for a kitchen. It would probably be pretty decent if all 23 kids weren’t standing on one another waiting to be served our oh.-so-filling slice of bread. I took one of the plastic trays which were stacked up on a small, round table and stood next to Frank, in the line.
He nudged me with his elbow,
“Hey, man.” He spoke quietly “Happy birthday!” he beamed. I nodded as a response, not really in the mood to talk.
“I got you something.” He said. My eyes grew wide; no one’s ever given me anything for my birthday.
“What?” I muttered.
“I got you something.” He repeated.
“Why’d you do that?”
“Wait ‘till after breakfast.” He seemed somewhat excited to give me something. I shrugged and we took our seats with our trays, cold slice of bread and shot glass of orange juice. We sat at the end of the long wooden table and began to nibble on the pathetic breakfast we were given.
“So,” Frank started, “How’s it feel being a teenager?”
I shrugged, “Not much different.”
“You got an interview today, right?” he asked.
I nodded, excitedly, “Yep.”
“Oi!” called one of the kids, at the opposite end of the table. “Harry Potter, pass the butter.” I sighed at the name they had stuck me with, and slid the basket, with the small squares of butters filling it, down the table.
“Don’t listen to ‘em.” Frank rolled his eyes.
Breakfast passed agonisingly slowly before Frank took me by the wrist and quickly lead me upstairs, almost tripping as he jumped the creaky stairs, two by two.
“Hurry up.” He pulled me harder.
We eventually got to the room where all the boys bunked.
“Close your eyes.” Frank grinned.
“Frankie do I ha—“
“Do it.” He interrupted. I sighed and obeyed his command.
“don’t peak.” He said, warningly.
“Oh I wouldn’t dare.” I answered sarcastically.
“Put out your hands.”
I once again did as he said.
I felt a slightly heavy object, occupy my hands. It felt like, whatever it was, was covered in velvet.
“Open them, Open them!” he jumped.
I smiled at him immaturity and slowly opened my eyes, glaring at the present I received.
It was a thick book. I flipped the pages, which were blank.
“Now, I know it’s not much, but I found it on the ground when I was sent to the markets, I thought you might like it. Y’know, to do all your little drawings and stuff in…” his voice sounded less excited and more worried.
“Thank you, Frankie.” I quickly embraced him, “I love it. It’s the best birthday gift ever.”
He smiled proudly.
“We’d better get to lessons, yeah?” I said, placing the book underneath my pillow, on my bed.
He nodded and followed me downstairs into the classroom, where we were schooled.
I played with my pencil, during class, pondering on how the interview will go. Will they take me home? Will they be a family?
Right on cue there was a knock on the door before it sung open, revealing Annie, the owner of the orphanage.
“excuse me, but we need Gerard for his interview.” She smiled sweetly at the teacher and then at me. He nodded, gesturing for me to go.
I glanced at Frank who mouthed ‘Good Luck.’ I bit my lip before exiting the classroom, slowly.
Yep, okay. So the St Mary’s Orphanage is in existence in Newark so yeah. Don’t sue me.
Review, Yeh?
xD
Kay. Don’t think there’s much else to say, now scroll down and reaaad.
Can’t Find The Way Home.
--------------------------------
Chapter one; I Can’t Help But Think I’ll Die Alone.
My name is Gerard. That’s all I knew of myself. I don’t have a last name; well no one knows what it is. I don’t know who my parents are; nor do I care. I know nothing of my culture, or birthrights. I didn’t know why I was even sent to Earth if I was going to be given up, not long after my existence commenced. I knew I wasn’t loved, or appreciated or else I would not be here. I’ve been here, at St Mary’s Orphanage for the entire thirteen years of my subsistence.
I was deserted on the doorstep, a torn piece of parchment stapled to my thin blanket, reading my name, on the 9th of April, Thirteen years ago today. so that’s when my birthday was celebrated; not that they celebrated birthdays here. Especially not mine. I’m not really the most wanted person here. Personally, I think I’d do better on the bitter, dangerous streets of New Jersey. Sitting in a gloomy alley way alone at dusk was better than having my comic books snatched off me and then ripped into pieces. I’m just the kid they make fun of, I’ve learnt to deal. With the help of my single friend, Frank. Frank was eleven years old and he too has been at St Mary’s since he was born, due to his mother being only fifteen years of age when she gave birth to him and his father, unidentified. There’s America for you, I guess. Frank’s mother had come back to visit him three or four times but Frank was not, and still isn’t in any mood to return to her. And I don’t blame him.
I stood at the doorstep I laid on when I was merely half the size of it and sighed. The warm, humid spring breeze filled my lungs as it squeezed through the cracks in the door. I gazed out the window, which was covered in a layer of early morning frost. I covered my knuckles with my thin jacket and used my wrist to clear the frost so I could see properly. I stood on the tip of my toes so I could reach the small window. Flowers had begun blossoming on the tall tree that stood high in the front yard. They were a soft pink colour that looked moist from the dew. I wondered how they would smell, I had never actually smelt a flower; we were rarely allowed outside. But hopefully that would change and I would be out of this old, crooked house by this afternoon. That was my only wish; to escape this place.
Everyone was called to breakfast, which I decided to ignore. It’s not like they were feeding us anyway. Footsteps where heard, thumping loudly as everyone rushed down the stairs to be first in line. The loud bickering of the various aged children filled the air. I was purposely knocked on the back of the head once or twice which I also ignored, along with the constant insults. The noise quietened as everyone was in the small kitchen.
“Gerard,” Frank called from the entrance to the kitchen. “C’mon.” he waved his hand, gesturing for me to hurry up. I groaned but without arguing, followed through to the cramped excuse for a kitchen. It would probably be pretty decent if all 23 kids weren’t standing on one another waiting to be served our oh.-so-filling slice of bread. I took one of the plastic trays which were stacked up on a small, round table and stood next to Frank, in the line.
He nudged me with his elbow,
“Hey, man.” He spoke quietly “Happy birthday!” he beamed. I nodded as a response, not really in the mood to talk.
“I got you something.” He said. My eyes grew wide; no one’s ever given me anything for my birthday.
“What?” I muttered.
“I got you something.” He repeated.
“Why’d you do that?”
“Wait ‘till after breakfast.” He seemed somewhat excited to give me something. I shrugged and we took our seats with our trays, cold slice of bread and shot glass of orange juice. We sat at the end of the long wooden table and began to nibble on the pathetic breakfast we were given.
“So,” Frank started, “How’s it feel being a teenager?”
I shrugged, “Not much different.”
“You got an interview today, right?” he asked.
I nodded, excitedly, “Yep.”
“Oi!” called one of the kids, at the opposite end of the table. “Harry Potter, pass the butter.” I sighed at the name they had stuck me with, and slid the basket, with the small squares of butters filling it, down the table.
“Don’t listen to ‘em.” Frank rolled his eyes.
Breakfast passed agonisingly slowly before Frank took me by the wrist and quickly lead me upstairs, almost tripping as he jumped the creaky stairs, two by two.
“Hurry up.” He pulled me harder.
We eventually got to the room where all the boys bunked.
“Close your eyes.” Frank grinned.
“Frankie do I ha—“
“Do it.” He interrupted. I sighed and obeyed his command.
“don’t peak.” He said, warningly.
“Oh I wouldn’t dare.” I answered sarcastically.
“Put out your hands.”
I once again did as he said.
I felt a slightly heavy object, occupy my hands. It felt like, whatever it was, was covered in velvet.
“Open them, Open them!” he jumped.
I smiled at him immaturity and slowly opened my eyes, glaring at the present I received.
It was a thick book. I flipped the pages, which were blank.
“Now, I know it’s not much, but I found it on the ground when I was sent to the markets, I thought you might like it. Y’know, to do all your little drawings and stuff in…” his voice sounded less excited and more worried.
“Thank you, Frankie.” I quickly embraced him, “I love it. It’s the best birthday gift ever.”
He smiled proudly.
“We’d better get to lessons, yeah?” I said, placing the book underneath my pillow, on my bed.
He nodded and followed me downstairs into the classroom, where we were schooled.
I played with my pencil, during class, pondering on how the interview will go. Will they take me home? Will they be a family?
Right on cue there was a knock on the door before it sung open, revealing Annie, the owner of the orphanage.
“excuse me, but we need Gerard for his interview.” She smiled sweetly at the teacher and then at me. He nodded, gesturing for me to go.
I glanced at Frank who mouthed ‘Good Luck.’ I bit my lip before exiting the classroom, slowly.
Yep, okay. So the St Mary’s Orphanage is in existence in Newark so yeah. Don’t sue me.
Review, Yeh?
xD
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