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Reflections Of You In The Blade Of My Knife	By : LadyRevenge Category: My Chemical Romance > General Views: 857 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of My Chemical Romance. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Reflections Of You In The Blade Of My Knife
- 1
Savannah loved My Chemical Romance. She had all the posters she could find of them in magazines, Hot Topic and online plastered to the walls of her bedroom. She often sat and stared at them, fantasizing about meeting them, knowing them, and especially fucking them. Gerard in particular. He was her favorite. His heartfelt lyrics, his amazing performances, the emotion he put into everything he did related to the band. She felt like he had saved her life many times over by just being alive.
See, Savannah was a cutter. Specifically, one that cut to release her inner pain. Not one of those poser cutters, who only did it because they thought the scars were cool or for attention. She did it to release the pain from her fucked up life. She went to live with her grandparents when she was 15 because her parents had been killed in a freak plane crash. Then, two years later, her little brother was shot at the city park during a drug related drive by. He was only 6. The horrors of her life could not be fixed by any amount of therapy appointments or pills. Been there, done that. Cutting was the only thing that seemed to get her through the rough times. At least for a while. One particular night, she was busy staring at the bathroom wall while she dragged the blade of a scalpel across her wrist over and over again. A radio blared above her on the top of the toilet tank. She glanced down at the growing pool of blood below her outstretched arm. It wasn't normally that large. She looked down at her wrist. It was open down to the bone. All the tendons, veins and ligaments severed. She tried to move her fingers and blood spurted onto her chest. She dropped the scalpel and screamed, the pain of it all rushing to her nerve endings suddenly. Grabbing the bath towel that hung across from her on a bar, she wrapped it around her wrist and tried getting to her feet. She slipped in her own blood and nearly fell. But she managed to get to a phone and dial 911. She sat and waited, contemplating her actions. She really didn't want to die, but she couldn't figure out why she felt she had to cut herself to feel better. She didn't know what she was going to tell the paramedics when they arrived. She was covered in her own blood and had a self-inflicted gash in her left wrist. She was sure they were going to take her to the mental hospital, and that was the last place she wanted to be. She wasn't crazy; nowhere close. She just needed release. And no matter how sick or twisted her cutting sounded to someone else, she knew it was the only thing that kept her sane. Hearing the distant sirens grow closer, she closed her eyes and waited for the ambulance to arrive. The last thing she remembered hearing before they crashed through her front door was Gerard on the radio singing, "I am not afraid to keep on living..."

Two weeks later, Savannah came back home. The surgery to fix her wrist left her with minimal movement in her left hand and fingers. She would have to go through a lot of physical therapy to get it to work halfway normal again. She didn't much care about that at the moment though. She only wanted to take a hot shower in her own bathroom. She felt grimy from a week's worth of sponge baths and another week of cold showers. And she was jonesing to hear My Chemical Romance and see Gerard's heavenly image. Her house was a shambles. The police had come in to do their required search of the place since she had tried to commit suicide, so they said. She knew she could never be sloppy about her cutting again. The doctors at the hospital had talked to her extensively about her cutting habit, and she reassured them over and over that she had never cut herself that deep before and that it was a complete accident. They didn't believe her and wanted to send her to the mental hospital, but she begged and pleaded until they changed their minds. She told them about her good job as an illustrator, how she always paid her bills, how she owned her own home and car, and how she was just a regular citizen like everyone else. How could someone that did and owned all that possibly be a nutjob? Just because she had a taste for cutting didn't automatically make her insane. She explained her past and told them it was the only thing that she had to relieve her frustrations. They didn't like the idea of sending her home without a stint in Holly Rose mental hospital, but she had persuaded them to somehow. So she now stood in the doorway of the bathroom, looking down at the dried blood all over the floor she had spilled from her veins two weeks prior. She knew it had to be cleaned, so she got a mop and a bucket and went to work. It didn't take as long as she thought it would, and after she finished, she drew herself a steaming hot bath and sunk down into the tub. Two hours later, she stood up from the now cold water and put her fluffy black robe on. She padded to her bedroom and turned on the bedside lamp. Gerard and the rest of the boys stared at her from all directions. She smiled at them.
"Hello boys. Miss me?" She snickered at herself as she dried off her hair and then wrapped the towel around her head. She sat down in her desk chair and fired up her computer. Gerard's boyish smile blinked into view as her desktop loaded. Savannah sighed and rested her elbow on the desk, her chin propped up in her palm. She gazed at his face; every detail, every eyelash, every pore. She let his image consume her. She began fantasizing about what it would be like if he suddenly just crawled out of her monitor and swept her up in his arms. Then she thought about the movie "The Ring," and decided to fantasize about something else. She leaned back in her chair and grazed her eyes over her walls. Dozens of Gerards stared back at her, and she began to think about what would happen if one of the posters came to life. What if Gerard crawled out of the poster and into her bedroom? She knew it was a silly fantasy, but a fantasy nonetheless. She could make anything happen in her fantasies. She closed her eyes and imagined her favorite poster of him. He was standing front and center in his Black Parade uniform, and the other four guys were fanned out behind him to the left and right. They too had their uniforms on and looked mighty dapper, Savannah had to admit. Gerard's white blonde hair almost glowed atop his head; his sexy scowl giving her chills. She could almost see the muscle of his jaw rippling with every clench of his teeth. And then he moved. He raised his head so his brow shaded his eyes from the light above until they looked like black holes in his face. He stepped closer, until his face was in the "camera" and he looked to his left and then to the right. Then he spied Savannah, there in her desk chair, eyes closed, head back and a smile on her face. He brought his hands up and pushed. Savannah heard a ripping sound and jolted in her chair. She looked around her room. Nothing. No sound but the fan of her computer's tower. She rested her head again and let her eyes flutter shut. Gerard was pushing his way through the paper of the poster. His hands emerged first, and they opened up to rip a space big enough for his body to slip through. He poked his head out and looked down at Savannah. His mouth slid into an almost evil grin and his head lowered so he was looking from under his brow. He stepped out with his right foot onto the bureau below him. The poster was now nearly torn in two. When he fully emerged, it fell to the floor and there was nothing but the wall left where it had been. Gerard was crouched on top of Savannah's bureau, just looking down at her in the chair. She still had a smile on her face, as she was imagining the exact thing Gerard was doing at that moment. Gerard jumped down then, and his heavy black boots made a thud as they hit the hardwood floor. Again, Savannah was ripped from her fantasy from an odd sound in her room. She opened her eyes and looked up at the poster she was just thinking about. It wasn't there. She gasped and stood up, alarmed and scared half to death. A noise from the doorway made her turn suddenly as she clutched her robe to her chest. A figure was silhouetted in the doorway, leaning nonchalantly on the door jamb.
"Savannah," it said, stepping forward and holding out its hand. Savannah screamed and backed up into the bureau in horror. Tears were streaming down her face now, and she could barely breathe.
"Sshhh...It’s okay. It's me." Savannah squinted in the dim light to try and see who it was in her room. His voice sounded eerily familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. He stepped closer and light briefly shone on the side of his face, illuminating his white blonde hair.
"Gerard?" Savannah was mortified. She couldn't believe it was him. It couldn't be him. It was just some intruder that looked like him. How did he know her name? How the fuck did he get in there? She moved sideways along the wall, trying to distance herself from the man.
"Yes. It's me. Don't be frightened." He moved closer to her as she tried to move further away, and soon she was trapped between her desk and him.
"You lie. You aren't him. You can't be him. Please don't hurt me." She slid down the wall, crying hysterically and almost in shock from fright. He moved over in front of her and knelt down. He leaned into her and the light flooded his face. It was Gerard. Savannah's eyes grew wide with surprise. She'd know that face anywhere. She didn't feel her hand extending to touch his face until she saw it come into her view. She stared in awe as her fingers traced over his lips and chin.
"It's impossible for you to be here." She looked over at the bare spot where the poster he had come out of in her fantasy used to hang. Gerard turned his head to look as well, and then turned back to look at her again.
"Not according to that," he said, smirking slightly. She just shook her head in disbelief.
"That was just my imagination. There's just no way." Gerard smiled and looked down. He touched her left arm and she flinched.
"Sshhh..." He lifted it and studied the bandages around her wrist.
"Why?" was all he said, looking up at her from under his brow. Savannah looked down at her arm and back up to him. She felt ashamed.
"I...I don't know."
"Is it because of your parents and little brother?" Savannah was really scared now.
"How do you..."
"I'm in your head Savannah. I know everything you know. And we both know your family wouldn't want you to hurt yourself like this over their deaths. You tell yourself that every time before you start to cut."
"That's IMPOSSIBLE!" She suddenly screamed out and jerked away from Gerard. She scrambled to her feet and ran out into the living room. She went to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. She jerked open the medicine cabinet and knocked half of its contents into the sink below looking for her medication. When she found it, she closed the cabinet door and Gerard's face appeared behind her in the mirror. She screamed and ran out the door and back into her bedroom. The only thing she had to defend herself with was the small roll of scalpels she kept tied up under her mattress. She dug for them, and as she pulled the roll out, they fell to the floor and scattered everywhere. She fell to her knees, trying to pick them all up and put them back in their roll. A black boot appeared on the floor in front of her hand as she reached for one of the blades, and she followed it up to see Gerard looming over her menacingly. She dropped the scalpels and backed up on the floor against her bed. Gerard knelt on one knee and rested his elbow across the other one.
"You don't need these Savannah. You have me. You have my music. I can get you through anything you might have difficulty getting through alone. I'm always here for you. All you have to do is close your eyes." Savannah looked up at him, tears flowing fresh upon her cheeks.
"How can you be here with me now then if you're just in my head?" Gerard moved over to her and took her in his arms. She clung to him and cried. He stroked her damp hair and moved it out of her face.
"I don't know how to stop cutting myself," Savannah suddenly said.
"You just have to try."
"I can't," she softly whispered into his chest. Gerard leaned away from her and tilted her chin up with his finger. He looked her in the eye and smiled softly. He studied her face for a moment. She was so beautiful. He couldn't believe she wanted to make herself so ugly by cutting.
"You don't know until you try," he whispered. "Promise me you'll try. Next time you get the urge, listen to one of my songs, write a story about me, fantasize about fucking me." Savannah blushed violently. He really was in her head. "Turn to me instead of your knives. I promise I'll save you. You'll see." He bent down and kissed her softly. Her eyes fluttered shut and she grasped his waist with her hands. His lips were cool, not warm like she expected. He tasted like ice. A frozen wind gently licked at her cheek and when she opened her eyes, Gerard was gone. She was alone in her room on the floor. Her scalpels were still scattered around in front of her. She looked up at the place he had come from on the wall. The poster was there, untouched and whole. Savannah stood up, stepped over to the bureau and reached up to run her fingertips over Gerard's face.
"Turn to me instead of your knives," rang out in her head, like someone had whispered it in her ear. She could almost feel the breath from their words. She backed up until she was at the foot of her bed, where she sat down and sobbed into her hands long into the night.
A couple of weeks later, after a long day of nothing going right at work and a minor fender bender on the expressway, Savannah sat in her bathroom on the edge of the tub. In her shaking hand she held a scalpel. She felt the cold, thin handle resting in her palm. She looked down at the severe scarring on her left wrist, uncovered and barely healing. She raised it and moved it over her wrist. As she began to touch it to her skin, a glint of light reflected in the blade, catching her eye. She held it up to her face and looked into the mirror-like finish. Gerard's face was looking back at her, not her own. He was shaking his head and beckoning for her to come to him. She dropped the blade and sobbed into her hands. Suddenly, she felt a lightness overtake her body. Her tears quit, and she stood up to look in the mirror. She wiped her face and ran a hand through her hair. She left the bathroom and went into her bedroom. She sat in her desk chair and turned on the computer. She opened her media player and began playing "The Black Parade" as she surfed the internet for things related to Gerard and MCR. After a while, she glanced up at the poster on her wall. Somehow, Gerard's pose was different. She stood up to get a closer look. He was smiling. She clamped her hand over her mouth and giggled. Then she laughed out loud. She closed her eyes and thought back to two weeks prior, when Gerard had been her saviour. She sat down again and smiled at the poster for a long time. She knew she could beat her addiction, as long as he was there in her head and her heart. She finally had something to live for once more. Savannah never cut herself again.
- 1
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Reflections Of You In The Blade Of My Knife