Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Keep The Faith.
GERARD’S POV
We never made it the shops.
“Wait, I’m gonna go up and get a jacket. It’s cold out here.” I said as Frankie got into the car. “Sweet. Can you get my cellphone? It’s on the lounge in your room.” I nodded and headed for the basement. I got down there and picked up my favourite leather jackets. It was a bit worn out, but still mega comfy. I slipped it on and picked up Frankie’s phone, seeing he had a new message. Should I look? I wondered, looking at it. I snuck a sneaky grin and opened the message. It was from his ex, Jamia. What did that bitch want?
Haha me 2 babe. When u leaving the ways house? come c me. i cant wait 2 fuck u ;)
My hands froze… A chill went down my spine. I immediately went to his inbox and saw all the messages from her. I went to his outbox, and there were just as many to her. I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t even wanna read them. I closed the phone and walked out, almost in tears. I threw the phone to him and walked back up to the porch. “Here’s your phone. You can go home if you want. Or wherever you want. I’m staying home. Lock the car and leave the keys on the table by the door.” And then I stormed back into the house, back down to my bedroom, where I collapsed in bed, crying. How could he do that to me? Why would he lead me on. I sobbed into my pillow. Is this what I became sober for? To have my heart fucking broken four days later? I sat up and looked around, eyeing an old Tupperware box. I picked it up and pulled out an old pill bottle and a razor. I downed a few pills and close my eyes, tears seeping down at them. Then I looked at my wrist, bit my lip and started carving. Frank knew all about how I used to cut. I did it as an outlet, to relieve and punish, to cleanse. But this cut would never heal. Behind this one, the other’s wouldn’t exist. I dug in deep in a curve, to spell a large, deep “C”. I sucked in a deep breathe and drew three lines and made an “H”, just as deep as the first letter. I was crying even harder, and my hands shook as I made a crooked “E”. I held my hand steady and held my breathe and slowly carved an “A”. And then, both my hand shaking and aching and covered in blood, and tears falling down my cheeks, I finished with a “T”. There. CHEAT. That’s what he was. That’s what he was going to be to me. And this is how I would remember.
lolol ALWAYS REVIEW.
We never made it the shops.
“Wait, I’m gonna go up and get a jacket. It’s cold out here.” I said as Frankie got into the car. “Sweet. Can you get my cellphone? It’s on the lounge in your room.” I nodded and headed for the basement. I got down there and picked up my favourite leather jackets. It was a bit worn out, but still mega comfy. I slipped it on and picked up Frankie’s phone, seeing he had a new message. Should I look? I wondered, looking at it. I snuck a sneaky grin and opened the message. It was from his ex, Jamia. What did that bitch want?
Haha me 2 babe. When u leaving the ways house? come c me. i cant wait 2 fuck u ;)
My hands froze… A chill went down my spine. I immediately went to his inbox and saw all the messages from her. I went to his outbox, and there were just as many to her. I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t even wanna read them. I closed the phone and walked out, almost in tears. I threw the phone to him and walked back up to the porch. “Here’s your phone. You can go home if you want. Or wherever you want. I’m staying home. Lock the car and leave the keys on the table by the door.” And then I stormed back into the house, back down to my bedroom, where I collapsed in bed, crying. How could he do that to me? Why would he lead me on. I sobbed into my pillow. Is this what I became sober for? To have my heart fucking broken four days later? I sat up and looked around, eyeing an old Tupperware box. I picked it up and pulled out an old pill bottle and a razor. I downed a few pills and close my eyes, tears seeping down at them. Then I looked at my wrist, bit my lip and started carving. Frank knew all about how I used to cut. I did it as an outlet, to relieve and punish, to cleanse. But this cut would never heal. Behind this one, the other’s wouldn’t exist. I dug in deep in a curve, to spell a large, deep “C”. I sucked in a deep breathe and drew three lines and made an “H”, just as deep as the first letter. I was crying even harder, and my hands shook as I made a crooked “E”. I held my hand steady and held my breathe and slowly carved an “A”. And then, both my hand shaking and aching and covered in blood, and tears falling down my cheeks, I finished with a “T”. There. CHEAT. That’s what he was. That’s what he was going to be to me. And this is how I would remember.
lolol ALWAYS REVIEW.
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