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I Am the Way...	By : mychemicalresurrection Category: My Chemical Romance > General Views: 1369 -:- 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
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Disclaimer: I in no way know Gerard Way and the members of My Chemical Romance. The works I write are completely fictitious and should be taken with a grain of salt. The events in my stories mean no harm, and are works of fiction only. ~ Enjoy

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~The Patient is a Virtue~

The alleyway was illuminated in an eerie yellow light by the single lamppost. I leaned against the grimy wall, staring up and down the alley expectantly as if I were meeting someone. The graffiti on the walls gleamed slightly on the wall across from me. I don’t remember what it said, but it didn’t seem important. The silence was completely deafening.

“Drinking is bad for you, Gerard.” The whispered, hollow voice from right beside me spooked me and I turned in place.

“Who’s there?”

“If you don’t know, you haven’t been paying attention…”

A white mist seemed to glimmer from the darkest parts of the alleyway and collected about ten feet to my right. Staring wide-eyed, I could feel chills travel up my spine, the hair on the back of my neck now erect in terror. The familiar phantom who had haunted me in the recording studio had returned.

“You… no… please…” I was trembling now. “Please leave me be…”

“Oh, but Gerard, you wouldn’t be as successful as you are now without me… without me you wouldn’t have had the inspiration for The Black Parade. I think you owe me a little something in return,” the pale figure drawled. As in my many drawings, he was so pale he was almost white, his hair having abandoned his body, an IV with blood platelets implanted in his arms hung from a metallic pole that seemed to creep along by itself.

I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to run, but I was paralyzed in the spot, my feet two heavy cinderblocks held by gravity’s merciless pull. The Patient stood before me, his frigid breath on my face. He reached up with his thin, joint-bare hand and stroked my cheek.

“Alive… so beautifully warm…” he whispered. He leaned forward and placed a stone-frozen kiss on my parted, white lips before pulling away again and staring at me with his black eyes.

“What are you doing to me?” The panic was clear in my voice.

“Taking advantage of you the way you took advantage of me,” he said, the look on his face changing to something like a sick humor and an inner disgust. He reached his hand out and placed it on my chest. I tried to back away but couldn’t. He was controlling me somehow and I knew it. His hand turned into the white mist and sunk into my chest. I could feel the chill of death pass through my body, but I couldn’t see as my back arched and my eyes closed. It was cold and sensual as his limbs extended into mine.

I heard a loud moan escape as he settled into my warmth, his fingers stretching into mine, his legs landing where my feet stood. I opened my eyes and knew he could see exactly what I saw. My heart raced so much now that I could hardly catch my breath. Screaming, I leaned over and vomited in the alleyway, and then everything turned black.

“Oh shit! Something’s wrong with Gerard!” I heard a voice call from somewhere far, far away. Was it my little brother? My friends? Was it the voice of death? I couldn’t tell. I wanted so much to move, but my very skin felt heavy around my muscles and bones, which were like lead. I felt hands on me, turning my body. A cold cloth was wiped across my face, over my burning lips, my neck, my chest. What was going on?

The light was so bright when my eyes finally, lazily slid open. I could see my brother kneeling over me, concern clear on his face. “Gerard? Oh, god…” There were tear stains on his face. Apparently something was really wrong with me.

“Water…” I moaned, a rancid taste in my mouth.

“Get him some fuckin’ water,” Mikey roared at those who had gathered around and weren’t attending me, his voice cracked a little. He smoothed my hair a little and looked back at me again. He was so worried. I closed my eyes again, they were so heavy. I could feel someone tilt me up and a cool stream trickled over my mouth. I drank what I could, the water helping remove the nasty taste of vomit. When I was finished, I pushed the glass away and shook my head a little.

“I’m fine… what happened?” I moaned, rubbing my throbbing forehead. I noticed the puddle of vomit on the floor beside me and gagged again. Luckily, I was able to contain myself and the nausea went away. I was lying between the aisles of bunks on the bus again. The whole alleyway was gone. It had all been a dream.

Mikey’s eyes narrowed as he said, “It depends… just how much of that vodka did you drink last night?”

My eyes went to the bottle sitting on the table. It had been three quarters full when I pulled it out of the cupboard, now it was about halfway. Rubbing my eyes, I muttered, “Shit…” In my shame, I got up and pushed past all the prying eyes and went straight to the bathroom. I slammed the door and locked it.

I was barely able to pace in the bathroom, but somehow I managed it. I thought I had gotten past my alcoholism, but it had happened again. I had drunk more than I thought and I had almost choked on my own vomit again. What would have happened if I hadn’t left the curtain on my bunk open and just happened to have been pulled out in time? Where would Mikey be? What would have happened to the band? I could see the headlines now, “Alcohol Claims Another Rising Star.” It would be like the singer from Drowning Pool all over again.

Going to the sink, I stared down into it, wringing my fingers through my hair. I could hear people stirring outside. Mikey was trying to talk to the others about what had happened and was failing miserably at being discreet. I covered my ears a second and took a deep breath. The hissed whispers outside the door silenced and left me silently looking down into the white porcelain sink. Long minutes passed in silence before I leaned against the sink with my palms resting on the edge. I wanted to throw up again just for posterity’s sake… it would take my mind off of my guilt.

I slowly raised my head to look in the mirror as I had yesterday. The image that stared back at me wasn’t my own; it was the Patient. It flickered back and forth a moment between his and my image as my eyes widened.

“No… NO!” I screamed, backing away from the image. The Patient’s bald face smirked at me, staying in the mirror even as I moved back. He solemnly nodded, affirming my fears. “NOOOOO!” I roared, slamming my fists against the mirror. It took a few hits before shattering. The angry roar suddenly turned into a shriek of pain as the splintered glass clung to my fists. I stepped back, staring at my bleeding knuckles as I tripped and fell backwards into the shower. I landed hard, but hadn’t hurt myself anymore. I screamed, pulling a few shards gingerly from my knuckles.

“GERARD! OPEN THE GOD DAMN DOOR!” Frank yelled from outside the bathroom. “OPEN THE DOOR NOW!”

I was crying now, not even yelling. There was something seriously wrong with me… I knew that when my cries turned into sharp biting laughter. I heard them breaking down the door, coming in, seeing me and getting our body guards to grab me while they called an ambulance to get me.
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I Am the Way...