Chapter 4 - Misinterpretations

Gerard's Way

Chapter Four: Misinterpretations



Gerard's Point of View



There are multiple definitions for the word “right.” In some cases, it's hard to tell which meaning of the word is meant to be used. If someone says to turn right, then the first thought to come to mind is to turn the way that's opposite of left. However, like said before, some cases are more difficult to understand. To turn right might mean to turn away from wrong, which is another misunderstood word itself. The first option is usually easier. The second option is generally ignored, but it might save multiple lives if noticed and followed.



Before I begin to narrate this section of my life, let me describe my scenario. At this point, I can be referred to as a drug-addicted man, the vocalist for My Chemical Romance, Michael James Way's elder brother, the guy who's pants fell down during Warped Tour, a crack head, that insane dude, and Gerard Way. I can't say if any of those descriptions fit me, and that includes even my own name. That's right; I don't believe I'm even my own self anymore.



You see, recently, the rest of the band has begun to notice my drug addiction more and they decided to take action. Mikey, my little brother, has been doing whatever he can to help me get off drugs. He's hidden my pills, crack, pot, marijuana, whatever.



But apparently, he has yet to learn about withdrawal.



I've beaten him to the point where he's on the verge of death, and I'm afraid a few moments ago he may have stepped over that line and fallen of the cliff that's beyond it. I'm currently wishing with all my heart that he'll be able to climb back up and cross back over that line so I might be able to spend some more of my life knowing him as my little, caring brother, not just another dead body under a tombstone in the mossy church graveyard.



Bob continued to hold me back with all his strength. And unfortunately, he's pretty strong. If I couldn't get to Mikey soon, then hopefully Frank had already called 911 and an ambulance is on its way. And God, I hope it's close.



Frankie's POV



I hung up the phone after getting confirmation from the operator that the ambulance and police would be here soon. I almost didn't want to go back into the hallway, but from the way things were sounding, I could tell I was needed. I ambled to the door and cautiously peeked around the wall, and the scene I saw was the most horrible thing I ever did see.



Ray was bleeding profusely from his nose, but it was hard to tell that was the source. His whole face was covered in blood, and the sticky liquid had splattered all down his front. His hands were crimson blobs scrambling around his face, trying to stop the bleeding. Pink streaks were streaming down from each of his eyes; the result of his tears mixing with his blood made the pastel color. His eyes were hard to see, and I was kind of glad I couldn't see them. I didn't really want to see what they looked like… What emotion was in them, I had no desire to know.



Bob was probably the most comforting to look at, and he still wasn't a very comfortable sight. Gerard was struggling in his arms, but it didn't look like Bob was going to give in anytime soon. The drummer's face was a mixture of many emotions; sympathy, anger, worry, strength, anxiety, and confidence. Each weak emotion was backed up by a stronger one, just like Bob had always been. If he was happy, he'd usually be really concentrated on whatever was making him happy. He barely had any visible injuries besides a black eye and some blood dribbling from the corners of his mouth. I guess he'll be covered in bruises later, judging by the way that Gerard was beating on him.



Mikey… His face was pale and I felt my eyes burn from just one glance at him. His glass's lenses were cracked, and the frames were broken. Damp blood was coming from his nostrils and his mouth, which was slightly open, revealing blood-stained rows of teeth. I couldn't get the thought out of my head about how he could die by just being beaten in the chest. His asthma had probably helped not let him get oxygen, but still, why the hell did he die that way?



I felt something wet roll down my cheek, and I swatted at it with my right hand. I could tell what it was right away. I was crying. Tears were overflowing my eyes and needed somewhere to go, so they traveled down my face and off my chin.



Damn it, Frankie, I slapped myself mentally. He's going to be alright, so don't you dare cry!!



“This way!!” the deep voice of a paramedic rang throughout the hallway and I saw them running towards us with a stretcher and other various medical items.



They pushed past Bob, Gerard, and Ray, straight towards Mikey. The four men tried to treat him quickly on the spot, using the jumpstart machine. They tried multiple times, using the two handles, rubbing them together, then pressing them to Mikey's chest and shouting “Clear!” before his body would squirm for a moment, then go back to its lifeless stage.



I clutched the gun charm that dangled around the necklace I wore and fidgeted with it nervously. Mikey, no…



Gerard's POV



I stopped struggling to get free from Bob as soon as the paramedics tried to revive Mikey. I couldn't stand the thought of knowing that I killed my own brother, and I hoped with all my heart that they'd be able to keep him alive. He had always been there for me and I had always been there for him, and I'd probably kill myself if he died.



“We've got a pulse!!” I heard one of them shout and my heart soared. I felt Bob relax his grip on me and I caught Frank wiping his tears away.



I took the chance and yanked away from Bob, darting towards Mikey. I kneeled down next to him and stared at his face with a concerned look on mine. His hazel eyes opened slightly and gazed up at me with unreadable emotion.



“B… Brother…” he said in a raspy, hushed voice.



“What?” I replied.



“F… frack you…” he chuckled hoarsely and his eyes faded back into that unwelcome cloudy gray.



A/n: Bwahahee. Make you sad at first? Good, that's my goal, whatever your response was. I'm just glad you continued reading to this point. Now for the suspense builders… Will Mikey survive (again)? Is Mikey a cat with 8 lives left? How will Gerard react? How will Frankie react? How will Ray ever get all that blood off of himself? Some of that stuff and more, in the next chappy, which I have yet to think over. Oh yea, comment and critic please. Even if you're Lynn, comment please (on this site, not just on IM)!!



Like it when I kill rockers my stories? Then check out my other one, High School Horror!! I slay multiple members of various rock bands with immense detail. But please note, I'm still working on it.

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