Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Woke Up Screaming Through a Slit Throat
I'll paint this town blood red tonight,
Erase this scum from my fucking sight.
A gift from god doing the devil's crimes,
I set shit right one whore at a time.
A gift from god doing the devil's crimes,
I'll carve these bitches one slice at a time.
You'd better catch me before i have my fun.
Frank's P.O.V.
"Frankie, Frankie, Frankie. Maybe you've become professional at hiding after running for all these years, but that just means I've become twice as professional at finding your sorry attempts for doing so. You know what that means, don't you?" the stranger chimed in an almost elegant, smoothed out tone. It's a shame to know that a beautiful voice like that is being occupied by such a gruesome, sick man. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if this never did happen. Would I ever come to know this, as much as I hate to admit it, dazzling, morbid stranger? Would I even know of his existence, or maybe I would know, maybe we could have ended up being friends... Because it seems as though our paths were destined to cross at one point of time, and it definitely seems like one day they will cross in person for the first ti—
A loud vibrating crash enveloped my thoughts, as his steel toe shoe came crashing into the other side of the dumpster. My breath caught in my throat as I stifled a hoarse cry in realization that now the only thing separating our sheets of delicate skin is a thin wall of rusted metal an garbage. Of course I should have known that hiding behind a dumpster definitely is a mediocre move, practically shouting for his attention, but then again I am usually more crafty with my hiding spots, which is what he is looking for, so I guess I figured that hiding here would actually be a rather smart move. Well that and the fact that he caught me in a fucking empty straight alley that seemed to stretch for miles, just my luck, this seemed like the only available hiding place. However, at the time, none of the regrets for my stupidity even mattered, the only thing that did matter was the fact that this might be the final few breaths I take because there just seems to be no way out of this one. Either way I run, he could very easily snipe me without thinking twice about it...This is the closest I've ever been to the man, and unlike any other situation, that's definitely not something to brag about.
But at the same time... being anywhere near this man, the shakes that eat my skeleton, the acidic substances that burn my flesh, I actually sort of, enjoy it. Fuck, I'm one screwed up man, that's very apparent to me, this stranger is out to slaughter me in the most torturous way he can think of, and all I can think about is seeing the face that follows his pretty, luring voice. Yes, I think I have some serious issues, really I do, but it's not like I choose to feel like this. It's not my fault that his voice has the power to numb my fragile mind. It’s one of those situations where your body takes total control of your mind and uses you like a voodoo doll, forcing you to comply to all it’s absurd commands, this being one of them. It makes me sick, it makes me want to let myself take a bullet to the head and burn alive for thinking like I do, but it’s still beyond my control.
It's just, something about his presence, his threats, his determined will to destroy me... it's almost dazzling. I’ve never been a person that ever attracted anyone’s attention, I was always alone and forgotten, one of the children that just get’s dusted off the other kids clothes whenever the day ended, like I never existed to begin with. That’s how my life has always felt, like I was just translucent, a waste of space and air, that’s how I thought it always would be. Then there’s him… he’s so dedicated to destroying me, he studies my every move and learns my every tactic so that he can perfect his own to be in sync with mine. It gives me this weird since of satisfaction, like I’m actually desirable even though I know that this is so far from this. There is nothing in me that he finds attractive or appealing, it’s simply his revenge driven thirst to douse his hands in my blood. Still it gives me delightful chills at the thought… god I’m fucking sick.
It’s odd though, it makes me so jealous of him, the fact that he has seen me a countless number of times nearly every day as if routine, but I’ve yet to see the face that hides behind that lovely voice. Never once have my eyes graced his face features, the most I've ever seen of him was his faded blurry outline resting in front of the moons luminous glow. Since the very night I saw that beautiful sight, however, since that exact night, I've been addicted, dedicated to letting my eyes somehow sink into his pores, dedicated to just know his name. Even if it means getting killed. This is no problem for me seeing as I know that death is a guaranteed thing for me and he will undoubtfully be my murderer. Like I said, even if I had never met him in this brutal and terrible way it seems like we would have met in some other form and he still would have been my cause of death.
"It means, my dear Frank, two things actually. One is that eventually I am going to exceed your skill level of hiding, and I will get you... Maybe I'll even manage to beat you to your dark little hiding place, mmm, that would be just lovely, wouldn't it? Don't you just adore the idea that the minute you let your adrenaline crash back to the pit of your stomach, the minute you've reached a place where you're bones stop rattling and the shakes melt off of you, the very minute this all happens, I will have you trapped. You won't ever find a safe place again because right then and there and I can skin you of your lovely, glowing flesh. I can slice open your back to leave an exposed, chain of spine, and cut out the pieces bit by bit. Maybe if you're lucky I will hang you by a noose and let you suffocate, rather than piano strings" he chuckled, sending a earthquake cascading through my body as his voice dissolved to a disturbing, uncomfortable silence.
When has silence ever been a good thing? I mean in the movies a person thinks they are safe but then everything turns quite and bam, the next thing they know their brains have become wallpaper for the room and they are sprawled out like carpet glued to the flood. I'd feel much safer if he would at least speak, mumble, breathe deeply, anything to excavate and cleanse the stale air that coils around my shaking body. No, I don't take comfort in the sound of his voice, that-that's just absurd. It's more so the fact that when the predator is talking, I know his current location... but silence is just an opportunity for them to cleverly migrate locations, dissolving from place to place without any detection what so ever, and that is what shakes me to the core.
My body went stiff, paralyzing itself in fear, the atmosphere seeping through my skin feeling as if it has just liquefied into pure static and terror, clinging to my tattered clothing threatening to choke me before he could even lay a hand of me. An odd force seemed to linger around my body, coating my right ear in an unmistakable sound barrier almost like… like when someone walks up behind—
"Second, it means I've found you, kitten" the distinct voice purred in my ear, sweet, hot breath coiling down my neck, an instant whimper escaping my lips as my body grew involuntarily weak... the moment I've been preparing for...
Erase this scum from my fucking sight.
A gift from god doing the devil's crimes,
I set shit right one whore at a time.
A gift from god doing the devil's crimes,
I'll carve these bitches one slice at a time.
You'd better catch me before i have my fun.
Frank's P.O.V.
"Frankie, Frankie, Frankie. Maybe you've become professional at hiding after running for all these years, but that just means I've become twice as professional at finding your sorry attempts for doing so. You know what that means, don't you?" the stranger chimed in an almost elegant, smoothed out tone. It's a shame to know that a beautiful voice like that is being occupied by such a gruesome, sick man. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if this never did happen. Would I ever come to know this, as much as I hate to admit it, dazzling, morbid stranger? Would I even know of his existence, or maybe I would know, maybe we could have ended up being friends... Because it seems as though our paths were destined to cross at one point of time, and it definitely seems like one day they will cross in person for the first ti—
A loud vibrating crash enveloped my thoughts, as his steel toe shoe came crashing into the other side of the dumpster. My breath caught in my throat as I stifled a hoarse cry in realization that now the only thing separating our sheets of delicate skin is a thin wall of rusted metal an garbage. Of course I should have known that hiding behind a dumpster definitely is a mediocre move, practically shouting for his attention, but then again I am usually more crafty with my hiding spots, which is what he is looking for, so I guess I figured that hiding here would actually be a rather smart move. Well that and the fact that he caught me in a fucking empty straight alley that seemed to stretch for miles, just my luck, this seemed like the only available hiding place. However, at the time, none of the regrets for my stupidity even mattered, the only thing that did matter was the fact that this might be the final few breaths I take because there just seems to be no way out of this one. Either way I run, he could very easily snipe me without thinking twice about it...This is the closest I've ever been to the man, and unlike any other situation, that's definitely not something to brag about.
But at the same time... being anywhere near this man, the shakes that eat my skeleton, the acidic substances that burn my flesh, I actually sort of, enjoy it. Fuck, I'm one screwed up man, that's very apparent to me, this stranger is out to slaughter me in the most torturous way he can think of, and all I can think about is seeing the face that follows his pretty, luring voice. Yes, I think I have some serious issues, really I do, but it's not like I choose to feel like this. It's not my fault that his voice has the power to numb my fragile mind. It’s one of those situations where your body takes total control of your mind and uses you like a voodoo doll, forcing you to comply to all it’s absurd commands, this being one of them. It makes me sick, it makes me want to let myself take a bullet to the head and burn alive for thinking like I do, but it’s still beyond my control.
It's just, something about his presence, his threats, his determined will to destroy me... it's almost dazzling. I’ve never been a person that ever attracted anyone’s attention, I was always alone and forgotten, one of the children that just get’s dusted off the other kids clothes whenever the day ended, like I never existed to begin with. That’s how my life has always felt, like I was just translucent, a waste of space and air, that’s how I thought it always would be. Then there’s him… he’s so dedicated to destroying me, he studies my every move and learns my every tactic so that he can perfect his own to be in sync with mine. It gives me this weird since of satisfaction, like I’m actually desirable even though I know that this is so far from this. There is nothing in me that he finds attractive or appealing, it’s simply his revenge driven thirst to douse his hands in my blood. Still it gives me delightful chills at the thought… god I’m fucking sick.
It’s odd though, it makes me so jealous of him, the fact that he has seen me a countless number of times nearly every day as if routine, but I’ve yet to see the face that hides behind that lovely voice. Never once have my eyes graced his face features, the most I've ever seen of him was his faded blurry outline resting in front of the moons luminous glow. Since the very night I saw that beautiful sight, however, since that exact night, I've been addicted, dedicated to letting my eyes somehow sink into his pores, dedicated to just know his name. Even if it means getting killed. This is no problem for me seeing as I know that death is a guaranteed thing for me and he will undoubtfully be my murderer. Like I said, even if I had never met him in this brutal and terrible way it seems like we would have met in some other form and he still would have been my cause of death.
"It means, my dear Frank, two things actually. One is that eventually I am going to exceed your skill level of hiding, and I will get you... Maybe I'll even manage to beat you to your dark little hiding place, mmm, that would be just lovely, wouldn't it? Don't you just adore the idea that the minute you let your adrenaline crash back to the pit of your stomach, the minute you've reached a place where you're bones stop rattling and the shakes melt off of you, the very minute this all happens, I will have you trapped. You won't ever find a safe place again because right then and there and I can skin you of your lovely, glowing flesh. I can slice open your back to leave an exposed, chain of spine, and cut out the pieces bit by bit. Maybe if you're lucky I will hang you by a noose and let you suffocate, rather than piano strings" he chuckled, sending a earthquake cascading through my body as his voice dissolved to a disturbing, uncomfortable silence.
When has silence ever been a good thing? I mean in the movies a person thinks they are safe but then everything turns quite and bam, the next thing they know their brains have become wallpaper for the room and they are sprawled out like carpet glued to the flood. I'd feel much safer if he would at least speak, mumble, breathe deeply, anything to excavate and cleanse the stale air that coils around my shaking body. No, I don't take comfort in the sound of his voice, that-that's just absurd. It's more so the fact that when the predator is talking, I know his current location... but silence is just an opportunity for them to cleverly migrate locations, dissolving from place to place without any detection what so ever, and that is what shakes me to the core.
My body went stiff, paralyzing itself in fear, the atmosphere seeping through my skin feeling as if it has just liquefied into pure static and terror, clinging to my tattered clothing threatening to choke me before he could even lay a hand of me. An odd force seemed to linger around my body, coating my right ear in an unmistakable sound barrier almost like… like when someone walks up behind—
"Second, it means I've found you, kitten" the distinct voice purred in my ear, sweet, hot breath coiling down my neck, an instant whimper escaping my lips as my body grew involuntarily weak... the moment I've been preparing for...
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