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What's Life Like Bleeding On The Floor?	By : Marisol Category: My Chemical Romance > General Views: 901 -:- 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: None of this happened. This is a work of complete fiction. I don't own any members of My Chemical Romance and Mariah was a name taken from one of My Chemical Romance's songs.

“Sister … It’s not what you think … please …”

No, I wasn’t a criminal. I couldn’t have. There was no way in hell …

The church walls were covered sloppily in blood and the priests hands shook horribly with guilt and realization of the crime he had just committed. The alter where he spoke at church every Sunday morning was knocked over, though a knife stood out on it’s end, shoved roughly into the sanded wood.

Mariah had always been such a pretty girl. Bright eyed and charming. She was last seen before her weekly confession on Thursday and as usual, she was still an unusually innocent sixteen-year old. She didn’t deserve anything that happened to her that night and in return, she wouldn’t be held responsible. Surely, it had taken place in the house of God, and therefore, He had been the only witness.

“Father, don’t give me excuses. This is exactly what it looks like.”

“I … I …” My breath was caught in my throat.

“Goodnight, Father. I’ll see you on Sunday, as usual!”

Mariah flashed one of her award-winning smiles as she slipped her arms through the sleeves of her jacket. It was a good thing she was wearing one. The October air was unusually chilly this year and it was bound to snow anytime. The priest smiled warmly at her, waving kindly as he clasped his fingers together. She always had been such a sweet girl and that’s the way he wanted her to be remembered.

He walked alongside her, escorting her to the door. His fingers trembled unnoticeably as he fought to keep them steady. Just as her slender fingers reached out and enclosed themselves around the handle of the wooden doors of the church, the priest made his move. In one quick motion, his hand wrapped around her elbow and pulled back, sending the teenage innocence to the floor.

Her mouth opened to question his actions as the priest locked and sealed off the heavy church doors, leaving the two alone to face the presence of one another. The silence was deafening and the priest could stand it no longer and all Mariah could do was watch and question the priest’s bizarre behaviour. Somehow, she knew from this point on that God would be the only one to save her from this horrid fate she was about to meet.

The priest gave one mere glance about the empty church. The rows of seating were empty, though they always seemed to be filled with some sort of presence, like ghosts praying for the souls of their loved ones who were still among the living. The stained glass windows were dull, though once occupied by the bright light of day and of course, the son of God, the great statue of crucifixion that stood at the very back of the church, a symbol of all that was once and is holy and all that was ever and ever will be good in this world.

The merciless eyes of the statue in the back bore into the priest’s mind. Somehow, the moonlight that shone in through the coloured glass of the windows cast an eerie shadow upon the young man’s stone face, giving it almost a more life-like appearance than usual. The priest shuddered softly and looked away and down at his victim who was inching slowly towards the door, as if not to disturb the eye contact between the statue and the priest.

“I think I’m going to leave” My voice was calmer now.

“I think that might be a good idea, father.” Sister back away from me, obvious fear in her eyes as a forced smile unwrapped itself across her lips. I could tell she was fighting off the urge to make a run for the door and escape the crime scene like so many others before her had done.

The priest had grabbed the teenage innocence and dragged her to the altar at the front of the church. Before brandishing the blade that the priest carried in his pocket, the man looked up into the eyes of the one who died for our sins and did the good deeds that no one had the courage to do now. The silver of the blade shone brilliantly as the priest withdrew it from the pocket of his white robes.

Mariah began to struggle in the priests grasp as her eyes fell on the blade, widening and her pulse quickened, her breath coming in short, hurried gasps. It was obvious that breathing was becoming a chore now. She pulled back, trying to free her arm that the priest had in his tight grip. Her struggling proved to be of no use as the priest was considerably stronger than she was.

The priest looked even more insane than usual on this night. The priest usually had a shabby, mysterious look about him and something else flickered behind those eyes of his, though, what it was exactly was hard to pinpoint. Though, on this particular night, Mariah was sure that the something that occasionally flickered behind his eyes was insanity. There was nothing else that she could think of besides that, for, what other reason would there be to explain his odd behaviour right now?

A loud piecing scream ripped the silence of the church open violently as the priest drew the blade across the innocent’s wrist. Blood dripped slowly down the girl’s wrist as she sobbed, finally wrenching her arm away from the priest’s grasp to cradle her deep gash protectively against her as the priest stood, staring wide eyed at his victim. She sobbed loudly as she made a break for the door and the priest merely stood there, taking no action as the girl bled heavily onto the carpet, running for the door until the priest kicked over the altar, viciously stabbing the knife into the wood.

She wasn’t getting out of here alive. The priest sprinted down the aisle after the girl and just as she reached the doors, her goal was deferred as she was ripped back and dragged back to the alter where the priest reached for the knife again. Once the bleeding teenager saw what he was reaching before, she could no longer form words. Only screeches of pain and horror were ripped from her throat.

The priest wrapped his fingers around the handle of the blade and wrenched it out of the wood. Unlike a psychopath, there was no look of glee on his face, no look of anger either. It was completely expressionless, as if he had been put into a trance. She shrieked frantically, begging the holy man to take mercy upon her but it seemed as if he had gone deaf, or just chose not to listen. Her shrieks only progressed to get louder as he continued his work upon her skin with his knife.

The priest sat back to admire his work. The word GOD had been engraved into her stomach, though, the beginning of the G was a big crooked as she was tossing and turning, frantic to get away from her gruesome fate that the priest had set up for her to meet. Though, the girl was no longer in her original frantic state. She now lay in a pool of her own blood, her clothes and her skin soaked. Small whimpers of pain fought their way out of her mouth as she fought and struggled to breathe.

But no … He wasn’t done. The priest then grabbed the un-slit wrist and dragged her up onto the step that the fallen alter was lying on. Once again, the priest had savagely shoved the knife deep into the wood, creating another deep dent. He heard another few moans of pure pain coming from the wounded and he just ignored them, just as he had ignored the screams. He then had an idea … It was sick and it was wrong, but it was going to be done.

Poor … Poor Mariah … Poor Mariah …

The priest was careful not to ruin the bleeding artwork on her stomach as he lifted her up off the ground, his hands cradling underneath her arms as if he was lifting up a small child. He then placed her on the cross and nail by nail, bit by bit, Mariah Black died for their sins, just as the son of the holy lord had done … nailed to the very cross.

With that, the priest took a step back to admire the deed that had just been done, his black hair falling into his eyes as he stumbled slightly, the world around him going black as he tripped over the fallen altar, his limp body landing on the ground, only to be found by the nun’s early the next morning.

“Father … Father? Gerard, answer me … The police are here to see you now”

“They are?” My voice trembled with fear and nerves. Surely the police would believe me.

“Yes … They are. Coming along now, Mr. Way … We can’t keep them waiting any longer”

I obliged, getting up from the back room of the church. The faint smell of blood was still lingering from the scene last night. I didn’t do it. The police …The police would be on my side. Surely, they would be.

I wasn’t a criminal. I couldn’t have. There was no way in hell …

So what do you think? Second chapter? Yes? No?
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What's Life Like Bleeding On The Floor?