Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > I'll never let them hurt you -
I was surrounded by nothing but infinate, endless grey. I had no idea which way I was running, relying only on a mental map of the park I found i had stored somewhere in the depths of my memory.
As I let my feet lead me towards where my instincts were telling me the gate was, putting as much space between myself and the place I was running from, where I could hear Gerard's cries of pain already ringing out through the empty park, my heart was screaming for me to turn back, but my mind was forcing me to fight the urge.
what am I doing? Gerard needs me!
Gerard needs you to be safe, the last thing he needs right now is to be worrying about you. You promised you'd do what he said.
I can take it back! Oh Gerard...
Praying that Gerard would be safe, I attempted to blank out the sounds of his screams and fled. The gate was padlocked, and in my panic the railings seemed much higher than they had earlier that evening. Scrambling over them I ripped a long gash in my arm on one of the sharp, black, ornamental spikes.
My feat hit the ground on the other side of the fence hard, shaking my whole body, as I stemmed the flow of warm blood from my wrist. Ah shit. There was no time to apply any sort of bandage, so I set my mind instead to the task of working out where I was supposed to go now.
There were two main locations that seemed obvious places to hide: Gerard's "house" in the abandoned factory on the outskirts of town, or my own house, which wasn't far from here, but meant I would have to deal with whatever greif my mother threw at me when I finally arrived home after two days. God dammit, what would my mom think?
I decided to risk the long journey back to the factory; unable to bear spending yet another evening with my horror of a mom. Instead of taking the short-cut through the town, I trudged alongside the desolate perimeter road that looped around the subburbs - I didn't really feel up to bumping into those crazy ass biker dudes for a second time.
I couldn't clear my mind from visions of an injured Gerard, lying in a pool of his own blood, out there somewhere in the park behind me. At times it became almost physically impossible for me to carry on walking away, leaving him behind. Forcing myself to put one foot infront of the other, taking it one tiny step at a time, I made it back to the final streach of road, and then through the massive, rusted side door and into the reception hall.
Inside the factory all droaning of engines whizzing by on the highway and firey beads of light from the headlights and streetlights was lost behind the thick metal of the closed door. Running my fingers along the dusty, faded floral papered wall, I found the cold plastic of the light switch and flicked it on; after a second it buzzed into life, casting its artifical glow around the small, cluttered room.
Straight ahead of me stood a wooden desk - identicle to the one which was home to Gerard's drawings upstairs, except on this desk stood a stack of unopened letters, an old fashioned telephone and a large ornamental fish, with sparkling green eyes that seemed to watch me as I scanned the office in paranoia.
Nothing appeared to be obviously out of place. The room was small and square. On the left side, an opening led to the wooden stair case, that, when you trod on each step, would shake as large clouds of dust puffed up to coat you're ankles. On the right side of the square room was a cracked slate fire place, and above it hung a photograph of what must have been the work force for this place, back when the factory was still up and running. There was only one tiny window into the office, which looked out onto a barbed wire fence and a tower of steel barrels holding gas or oil, but this window was way too thickly encrusted with dirt and grime to be an adequite light source - which was lucky as it meant Gerard could walk freely around this room, even in daylight.
After scanning the office several times my eyes lingered on the blue china fish. What the hell was this doing here? It just seemed so odd, when everything else in the office was so conventional, so ordinary, to have something so bizarre and out of place sitting right there. It was as though it hadn't always been there, and someone had recently placed it there. Killing time, I wondered over and picked it up. It was quite a heavy weight, and chipped around the base. Out of boredom rather than interest I flipped it over, to find those, near forgotten but all too familiar initails, scribbled untidily onto it. E L R - Elena Lee Rush - Gerard's slightly off-center, kindly, grandmother.
And thats when I remembered - I had almost let myself forget most of the happy memories Gerard, Mikey and I had shared when we were kids. Gerard and Mikey had used to spend every sunday at their Grandma Elena's house, and as an almost permanent feature in the Way household, I was often invited to join them, although my mother disapproved.
"You have your own Grandma, and I don't see you jumping through hoops to visit her every weekend!"
But on the rair occasion I was permitted to go. Elena lived on the other side of town; her house backed onto a large feild full of bright yellow flowers and then open scrubland beyond that. The house was red brick, 3 up, 2 down, with a big bright consevatory jutting into the little garden where she grew strawberries and a small army of garden knomes. In this conservatory sat a coffee table - all of the Way's adored coffee - and on this table stood the fish.
Memories of one bright spring day I thought I'd forgotten, I found still vivid, surpressed into the back of my mind.
The sun sparkled over the surface of the paddling pool. The leaves on the trees were still in the process of emerging from their sleepy buds. The occaisional white butterfly skittered past in the light april breaze. It was Gerard's 12th Birthday.
Mikey and I were slumped in the shade, with our backs against the cool stone of the garden wall - trying to avoid the sun and the drowsiness that ensued - sipping overflowing glasses of coca-cola. Gerard's large white iced birthday cake - lovingly crafted my Elena herself - had long been consumed and the sugar rush that followed had long died down, when Gerard came skidding out of the house, his bare feet slapping against the patio, wearing nothing but a pair of greyish green camoflage shorts.
"Grandma said I could have the china fish she made! She said I can turn it into a time capsule!"
We'd all agreed that this was a fabulous idea, and quickly set about locating random objects that could perfectly capture ourselves as we were at that precise moment.
A stack of poloroid photo's, taken by Elena: Mikey rolling on the floor laughing as a television screen flickered images of Tom and Jerry infront of him; Me, hitched up onto Gerard's shoulders, Gerard laughing and wearing an eyepatch, brandishing a sword; Gerard looking terrified as a ladybug crawled on his nose; all three of us, sprawled over eachother in the dappled shade under the blossom tree, bare toes dipping into the cool water of the paddling pool. A bunch of the yellow flowers from the feild - Mikey had climbed the fence to obtain these, and Elena had cut a small peice of red ribbon from the ball she kept in one of the drawers in her massive cabinet in the bedroom to tie the bundle together. A tiny toy cowboy. The eyepatch Gerard had been wearing. And a handwritten letter, signed by all three of us.
I clawed at the base to get it open. Damn biting my finger nails! Inside, I enventually managed to retrieve all of the memoirs we'd hidden all those years ago, and emptied them out onto the messy desk. My eyes landing on the photo's first, I shuffled through them.
Gerard's young, shining hazel eyes were fixed on me in every picture. How had I never noticed that?
I turned to the crumpled note and read,
Dear reader,
This time capsule that you have found originally belonged to Gerard and Mikey Way and their best friend, Frankie Iero. In it we have hidden some stuff which will help you to get to know us better. If you've found this a million years into the future then it will help you see what life was like in the olden days.
we hope you find it interesting. Your's sincerelly,
Gerard Way, 12
Frank Iero, 8
Mikey Way, 9
As I let my feet lead me towards where my instincts were telling me the gate was, putting as much space between myself and the place I was running from, where I could hear Gerard's cries of pain already ringing out through the empty park, my heart was screaming for me to turn back, but my mind was forcing me to fight the urge.
what am I doing? Gerard needs me!
Gerard needs you to be safe, the last thing he needs right now is to be worrying about you. You promised you'd do what he said.
I can take it back! Oh Gerard...
Praying that Gerard would be safe, I attempted to blank out the sounds of his screams and fled. The gate was padlocked, and in my panic the railings seemed much higher than they had earlier that evening. Scrambling over them I ripped a long gash in my arm on one of the sharp, black, ornamental spikes.
My feat hit the ground on the other side of the fence hard, shaking my whole body, as I stemmed the flow of warm blood from my wrist. Ah shit. There was no time to apply any sort of bandage, so I set my mind instead to the task of working out where I was supposed to go now.
There were two main locations that seemed obvious places to hide: Gerard's "house" in the abandoned factory on the outskirts of town, or my own house, which wasn't far from here, but meant I would have to deal with whatever greif my mother threw at me when I finally arrived home after two days. God dammit, what would my mom think?
I decided to risk the long journey back to the factory; unable to bear spending yet another evening with my horror of a mom. Instead of taking the short-cut through the town, I trudged alongside the desolate perimeter road that looped around the subburbs - I didn't really feel up to bumping into those crazy ass biker dudes for a second time.
I couldn't clear my mind from visions of an injured Gerard, lying in a pool of his own blood, out there somewhere in the park behind me. At times it became almost physically impossible for me to carry on walking away, leaving him behind. Forcing myself to put one foot infront of the other, taking it one tiny step at a time, I made it back to the final streach of road, and then through the massive, rusted side door and into the reception hall.
Inside the factory all droaning of engines whizzing by on the highway and firey beads of light from the headlights and streetlights was lost behind the thick metal of the closed door. Running my fingers along the dusty, faded floral papered wall, I found the cold plastic of the light switch and flicked it on; after a second it buzzed into life, casting its artifical glow around the small, cluttered room.
Straight ahead of me stood a wooden desk - identicle to the one which was home to Gerard's drawings upstairs, except on this desk stood a stack of unopened letters, an old fashioned telephone and a large ornamental fish, with sparkling green eyes that seemed to watch me as I scanned the office in paranoia.
Nothing appeared to be obviously out of place. The room was small and square. On the left side, an opening led to the wooden stair case, that, when you trod on each step, would shake as large clouds of dust puffed up to coat you're ankles. On the right side of the square room was a cracked slate fire place, and above it hung a photograph of what must have been the work force for this place, back when the factory was still up and running. There was only one tiny window into the office, which looked out onto a barbed wire fence and a tower of steel barrels holding gas or oil, but this window was way too thickly encrusted with dirt and grime to be an adequite light source - which was lucky as it meant Gerard could walk freely around this room, even in daylight.
After scanning the office several times my eyes lingered on the blue china fish. What the hell was this doing here? It just seemed so odd, when everything else in the office was so conventional, so ordinary, to have something so bizarre and out of place sitting right there. It was as though it hadn't always been there, and someone had recently placed it there. Killing time, I wondered over and picked it up. It was quite a heavy weight, and chipped around the base. Out of boredom rather than interest I flipped it over, to find those, near forgotten but all too familiar initails, scribbled untidily onto it. E L R - Elena Lee Rush - Gerard's slightly off-center, kindly, grandmother.
And thats when I remembered - I had almost let myself forget most of the happy memories Gerard, Mikey and I had shared when we were kids. Gerard and Mikey had used to spend every sunday at their Grandma Elena's house, and as an almost permanent feature in the Way household, I was often invited to join them, although my mother disapproved.
"You have your own Grandma, and I don't see you jumping through hoops to visit her every weekend!"
But on the rair occasion I was permitted to go. Elena lived on the other side of town; her house backed onto a large feild full of bright yellow flowers and then open scrubland beyond that. The house was red brick, 3 up, 2 down, with a big bright consevatory jutting into the little garden where she grew strawberries and a small army of garden knomes. In this conservatory sat a coffee table - all of the Way's adored coffee - and on this table stood the fish.
Memories of one bright spring day I thought I'd forgotten, I found still vivid, surpressed into the back of my mind.
The sun sparkled over the surface of the paddling pool. The leaves on the trees were still in the process of emerging from their sleepy buds. The occaisional white butterfly skittered past in the light april breaze. It was Gerard's 12th Birthday.
Mikey and I were slumped in the shade, with our backs against the cool stone of the garden wall - trying to avoid the sun and the drowsiness that ensued - sipping overflowing glasses of coca-cola. Gerard's large white iced birthday cake - lovingly crafted my Elena herself - had long been consumed and the sugar rush that followed had long died down, when Gerard came skidding out of the house, his bare feet slapping against the patio, wearing nothing but a pair of greyish green camoflage shorts.
"Grandma said I could have the china fish she made! She said I can turn it into a time capsule!"
We'd all agreed that this was a fabulous idea, and quickly set about locating random objects that could perfectly capture ourselves as we were at that precise moment.
A stack of poloroid photo's, taken by Elena: Mikey rolling on the floor laughing as a television screen flickered images of Tom and Jerry infront of him; Me, hitched up onto Gerard's shoulders, Gerard laughing and wearing an eyepatch, brandishing a sword; Gerard looking terrified as a ladybug crawled on his nose; all three of us, sprawled over eachother in the dappled shade under the blossom tree, bare toes dipping into the cool water of the paddling pool. A bunch of the yellow flowers from the feild - Mikey had climbed the fence to obtain these, and Elena had cut a small peice of red ribbon from the ball she kept in one of the drawers in her massive cabinet in the bedroom to tie the bundle together. A tiny toy cowboy. The eyepatch Gerard had been wearing. And a handwritten letter, signed by all three of us.
I clawed at the base to get it open. Damn biting my finger nails! Inside, I enventually managed to retrieve all of the memoirs we'd hidden all those years ago, and emptied them out onto the messy desk. My eyes landing on the photo's first, I shuffled through them.
Gerard's young, shining hazel eyes were fixed on me in every picture. How had I never noticed that?
I turned to the crumpled note and read,
Dear reader,
This time capsule that you have found originally belonged to Gerard and Mikey Way and their best friend, Frankie Iero. In it we have hidden some stuff which will help you to get to know us better. If you've found this a million years into the future then it will help you see what life was like in the olden days.
we hope you find it interesting. Your's sincerelly,
Gerard Way, 12
Frank Iero, 8
Mikey Way, 9
Sign up to rate and review this story