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What's Life Like Bleeding On The Floor?	By : Marisol Category: My Chemical Romance > General Views: 938 -:- 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.

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“I sentence the verdict, Mr. Gerard Way guilty of the murder of Mariah Black and to spend the next ten years in a high security prison.”

I shivered, the cold air of the cell ravishing my bare arms with kisses as I lay on my back, my eyes glued to the ceiling as if it were the most interesting thing on Earth. In this case, the ceiling actually was the most interesting thing, which was actually kind of pathetic. The frigid air of the cell was almost unbearable and the thin, cotton blanket that I had been given wasn’t exactly helping along with the judge’s words that kept replaying over and over in my head, which were slowly driving me to the edge of insanity. I know what I had done was wrong and if I could, I would take it all back. But wasn’t that what everyone else said? Of course and to them, I was just another no-good, blood thirsty criminal.

Welcome to my life, bitches.

I had been in this cell for the past forty eight hours and I was scared out of my mind. I had always heard horror stories about things that happened in prison on the news and in the newspaper and now it was my chance to see if it was really true or not. I swallowed harshly, the saliva latching itself onto the back of my throat and it seemed to stay there. I closed my eyes for a moment. I couldn’t explain how frightened and cold and uncomfortable I was at the moment. I then jumped, clearly startled as my cellmate spoke, his voice much calmer than mine was. Maybe it was because he had been in here much longer than I was, but he certainly didn’t look it. It was obvious he was a teenager because of the red that was slowly fading its way out of his hair, prominent black roots showing, contrasting horribly with his hazel eyes and pale skin. He couldn’t have been any older than me.

“Jumpy, much? Like, calm the fuck down, buddy. You’ve been in here for like, two days. It only goes downhill from here, let me tell you that.”

I rolled my eyes, though I knew he was right. His name was Frank and so far, he was the only one that hadn’t pushed me or insulted me in any way. So, he had already gotten brownie points for the things that he hadn’t done. I sighed, sitting up and wrapped the tattered blanket around myself as I leaned back against the wall as I faced the other man, my legs dangling over the edge of my bunk which of opposite to his. He seemed to know a little too much about jail, though he looked like someone who belonged in a band or at least in a juvenile delinquency. From the lack of light that created shadows on every angle, it was clear that he used to have piercings; one side of his lips where scabs had formed. They looked painful and I winced, glancing away quickly. He sat with his shirt off, a canvas of tattoos on display as he sighed, making a show of being bored. You couldn't help but wonder what he was in for. He looked innocent enough, but I had already been proved wrong. Never judge a book by its cover, especially not in a place like this.

“Alright, lights out!”

The sound of metal on metal rang through my ears and I sighed, looking up as I tore myself from my thoughts. I caught Frankie looking out of our cell and share a cocky smirk with someone across the hallway, if you could call it that. I saw them exchange mouthed words and I caught a glance in my direction and I was stuck between being frightened for my life or just to laugh it off and nothing was going to happen. I was sincerely hoping for the latter of the two. You know, come to think of it, I was a really shitty priest. No, not just because of the murder, but it was hard to explain. I never really believed in God. Sure, I had read the bible more than one could probably count and I practically lived at the church, but something told me that there really was no God and if so, why?

Because I had already been condemned to hell. Haha. Poor Gerard fucking Way.

You’ve really done yourself in this time. Go die, faggot.

I cursed under my breath. There was no use in insulting myself because little did I know that things would get so much worse for me. Oh, so much worse. It was practically only a matter of time.

Hours, minutes, seconds passed and I wasn’t sure which one. Time just seemed to be one big melded together mess that I could no longer comprehend. The cell was damp with nothing in particular. The air was cold and even that seemed to hang with a wetness that no one seemed to shake off. During the day, the lights were turned on people actually spoke. In the night, no form of light was to be seen by any angel except for the few lucky prisoners who got a beam of light from the moon that shone into their cells on lucky nights. Oh, then they would really have a party. Frank’s soft snores told me that he was fast asleep, but not for long as I heard the rustling of the sheets and I received a small poke to the side. I sat up and looked around, panicked now. Our cell was dark as ever and I could no longer see Frank. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, a gasp escaping my lips as I did so, the cold of the room hitting me in the face like a ton of bricks.

“Frank? Where are you? Frank? Frankie, I can’t see you … “

With another surprised gasp, the next thing I knew, a smaller hand enclosed itself around my wrist and dragged me forward. I knew who it was so I wasn’t nearly as frightened, yet. Somehow, I knew what was coming. Everyone knew this happened in prison, but it was one of those things you never thought would happen to you if you were in there. Let’s just say, these guys were so not picky with who they chose because somewhere in the back of my mind, sirens were going off and something was telling me to fight back, but it was like a dream sequence. My mind was hazy with sleep and Frank had been the nicest to me so far. The next thing I knew after that, I lay face down on the bed and a warm weight settle itself on my lower half, an obvious hardness pressing itself against the curve of my ass and I pushed my hips further into the bed, freaking out. I didn’t want this to happen as my instinct to fight back began to kick in. I moved to push myself up but as built as I was, Frank had obviously done this before.

A hand met itself with the side of my face, the stinging ringing in my ears that made my eyes water. No, I was not fucking crying, thank you. Oh, if only they could see me now. I whimpered pathetically, still totally unsure what was happening to me, but somehow, I still knew. I just didn’t want to believe it. He grabbed my wrists and pulled them from under me so I lay flat on my chest as I received another tear-jerking slap to my face. I turned my head to the side, still trying to fight back by moving every movable part of my body uselessly due to the way I was pinned.

“First of all, Gerard, it’s Frank, not Frankie. None of this cute shit, alright?”

He then pressed his mouth near my ear, and I instinctively pulled my head away but in return, I got his excitement pressed harder against my ass. I was now his toy and the way he said my name made me feel like I was two year old who had just gotten caught stealing candy from his mother’s purse.

“And don’t bother screaming. No one is going to help you. No one cares.”

I felt him smirk as one hand reached down between me and the mattress to grope my nonconsensual growing erection. I now knew what it felt like to be completely alone.

“So, pray tell … Where is your God now, Gerard?”

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What's Life Like Bleeding On The Floor?