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Post by Blue on Nov 29, 2015 23:21:09 GMT -8
[♢]{FANFIC} My Chemical Romance: Frank/Gerard, [Graphic murder scenes, frequent strong language, inferred mental illness, possible future drug use, future sexual content...]
The Art of Life and Death - Chapter One
{An alternate universe fan fiction in which Frank, a 17 year old boy, is faced with what he thought to be his untimely death—though the events play out a bit more… artistic}
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It had been one of the most dangerous years since 1990. New Jersey's annual murder rate had climbed to a record high of 111 homicides, a quarter of which occurred in Newark.
***
Hands popped bones out of socket with a sickening pleasure. Limp wrists tied to the ceiling of the RV crucified his victim at eye level. Nimble, blood soaked fingers tore skin from muscle and bone, a long elastic strip from the ribcage. He stepped through the crimson puddles at his feet and marveled at the sight of the drops on the toes of his leather boots. Beautiful. The word rang again and again in his head while he stretched the skin over the stripped boards of an old canvas. Beautiful. He let his fingers dip in the pools of blood on the floor, cooling and congealing and spread a path from his victim’s pallid lips to his temple. “Beautiful,” he whispered to him. “You’re going to be so beautiful.”
***
My mother wrung a dishcloth in her hands in the doorway as she waved me off to school; a worried look aged her in front of my eyes. “Frank, be careful. It’s a long walk.” Her face contorted into a smile, forced but thoughtful.
I sighed and shook my head, shouldering my bag. I was annoyed, but I felt the need to comfort her. “Ma, you know we’re okay, don’t you?”
She began to agree, but her eyes betrayed her. She leaned a wide hip against the door jamb and made an unsure groan. “Frank,” she began, but never finished.
“Mom, it’ll take me like five minutes to get to school.” I balanced impatiently on one foot and then the other, focused on reassuring her before I left for the day. “If you’d like me to stay home, I can.”
She shook her head immediately. “No, Frank Anthony, you get your education. Don’t fuss about me.” She twisted the dusty dish rag she had into knots, her nerves still getting her on her weak side. I nodded but as I turned to leave she started again with a deep breath. “Frankie, honey, I just worry about us sometimes, you and I, alone in this house. Belleville isn’t the greatest place on earth, y’know?” Tucking the rag in her back pocket, she brushed her tan hands on her legs. “I’ve been thinking of leaving Jersey a lot lately.”
I stepped up and kissed her on the cheek. “Jersey’s fine, we’re fine. Now can I go to school?” She nodded and shooed me off the porch.
She called to me again while I made my way down the leaf strewn sidewalk. “Be back before dark; don’t give me any damn heart attacks.” Then she closed the front door and all was quiet in the street.
Mom had reason enough to be nervous about letting me out on my own, the neighborhood had been a general crime scene for several homicides over the past few weeks and the recent kidnappings had all featured boys around my age. I was worried too and I’d learned to keep an eye out while walking to and from school, but I wasn’t the type to be paranoid.
The path I took to Belleville High wound through a couple side yards and trails before reaching a clearing in the trees on the edge of the basketball courts. I rooted for a cigarette in my sweatshirt pocket and pulled my neon green lighter out of my shoe, crouching in the trees and finding a nice place to smoke before the bell rang. The smoke filled my lungs and warmed them before I let it curl through my pursed lips and out in front of me. I was never keen on the taste or the smell, but the warmth that radiated in my chest had been my vice for a little over four years, something I definitely wasn’t proud of.
My fingers made patterns in the dirt and mud around my crossed legs and I thought I could probably find a better use of my time rather than sitting in the trees and smoking one too many cigarettes. I only had a few friends—Bob had band practice until second period and Ray usually joined him on days that he wasn’t sleeping in. The only time any of us saw each other during the school day was during lunch, then Ray and I had Chemistry together fourth period.
When the bell rang, I grabbed by bag and squished out my smoke in the mud. The day stretched before me and I dreaded my first period poetry class; a course my mother selected with the pitiful excuse of ‘Well, since you like to write songs so much,’
I drudged through the hallway, my wet sneakers squeaking on the splitting, mustard yellow linoleum, circa 1975. Oak doorways lined the walls to my right and left, separated by rusty, dented and equally yellow lockers. I kept all my things in my bag; I never had enough trust to keep my belongings in a steel box overnight, especially not in this town.
When I got to my poetry class, we jumped right into the projects we’d been working on which took up the entire period. Second and third were pretty much the same, though Geometry was a bitch and History felt like reading the dictionary. And by the end, my stomach twisted and groaned with hunger. I made my way down the creaky basement stairs to meet Bob and Ray for lunch.
Bob had a key to the basement. He, and the other band dweebs, used the basement to store their equipment for home and away football games. The three of us ate lunch here because the cafeteria smelt of rotting garbage and it was too cold to eat outside.
I knocked three times on the door so Bob would let me in, his blue eyes scanning the surroundings for possible snitches before he let me through.
“Hey, Frank!” Ray’s cheery voice sounded from inside through a bite of food. I stepped past Bob, avoiding the puddles gathered in the dips of the concrete where rainwater had seeped in through the giant rolling door. I sat cross legged across from Ray; his curly hair was a mop atop his head as he devoured his meatball sub.
“Dude’you hear?” Bob asked after swallowing a sip of his Sprite. I shook my head and he continued. “One of the kids from band is gone.” His eyes were wide ponds staring at Ray and me.
“Okay..?” I shrugged, unzipping my bag and grabbing my peanut butter sandwich. Ray chuckled, “So what? Did he just up and leave or--”
“No,” Bob interrupted. “Like gone gone. Missing.” I stopped chewing on my bite of sandwich. Another kidnapping? Another kid missing in Belleville.
I shook out the thought. “So, you think he’s dead?” I raised an eyebrow to Ray and Bob. “I mean, none of the other kids have been found. Alive at least.”
“But none of the bodies either, Frank. Damn why do you have to be so morbid? Guys, it could be any one of us, at any time.” Bob said roughly.
I sighed apologetically and glanced at Ray, who seemed to agree with me nonetheless. “Anyway,” Ray concluded in the angry silence. “You guys wanna hang at my place for bit tonight? I have video games and pizza.”
Bob and I agreed and we finished our lunches and then headed off to our separate classes. The rest of the day was monotonous but my mind kept wandering to the news of the band dweeb getting nabbed by some psycho freak, or something. Someone from our school; It really could have been any of us.
Ray met me at the flagpole in the front of our school after class. “Hey bud, Bob bailed so it’s just you and me.” I nodded; I was really okay without Bob considering his snap at me during lunch.
The closest way to Ray’s house was a trek across a grassy meadow and through a tangle of trees. The grass was brown now, but it was still a pretty cool place to chill if the weather permitted. With the dead trees lining the outskirts it looked like a scene out of a slasher flick.
The wind had picked up and was howling by the time we finally reached Ray’s house. It smelt warm and inviting with the smell of fresh baked pizza and coffee. “Pick a slice, any slice.” Ray said, opening the boxes of pepperoni and cheese pizzas. “If you want a soda, you know where they are.”
He crossed the room towards the TV and booted up a videogame. Ray was always a master as games, I wasn’t much of a player but we both kicked ass at Tony Hawk: Underground.
***
It was late in the evening when we’d finally given up on trying to beat each other. He stored away his console and stood up, stretching. “Well, that was riveting.” He smiled. “Too bad Bob couldn’t be here, he loves Underground.”
“Yeah,” I said absently, looking out the window at the dark streets in front of Ray’s house and the realization hit me. “Oh my god, Ray. I’m so screwed. It’s late. I’m late. Mom’s gonna be so pissed.”
“Don’t flip,” Ray said calmly. “I’ll have my brother drive you home.”
“No, no.” I shook my head, grabbing my coat and bag. “It’ll take too long, I’ll just go through the field.” I said, opening the back sliding door and stepping out.
“Are you sure, Frank? Remember what Bob said?” Ray looked concerned as he stood next to me at the door. “It could be any one of us, at any time.”
“Don’t worry.” I said quickly and closed the door, crossing his backyard, stumbling over stones and twigs and into the birch trees. If I ran, I could get through the field in no time, so I picked up speed as I broke through the last of the trees and headed toward home.
***
Streetlights appeared in front of me as I entered into the more residential areas. I was close, but I was tired. My feet were liquid and my breath quickened. I could feel my heart beating in my throat and the cold November air froze my lungs. I began stumbling over my own feet, my pace slowing.
Then, a force came beside me, pushed, and I collapsed to the side of the road. My pain receptors flared and I was pulled from the gutter into a side road. My elbow throbbed and my knees ached, I felt the warm rush of blood trickle behind my ear from where I must’ve hit my head during my fall.
A figure appeared in the dim moonlight, hardly anything but a silhouette, my vision blurred. He pushed me against a fence; I laid my head in the soft, damp earth. I became aware of more substantial injuries while I lie there, trying to collect myself to get up and run if I had to.
“Do not move,” a voice, harsh yet refined, said. I obeyed, but I still tried to steady myself in the dark. Fingers tangled in my hair and pulled me upright. Cold hazel eyes pierced through mine as he studied my face. He looked careful and calm, but underneath the demeanor all I could see was pure evil.
“W-Who are you?” I stammered, a shiver racking my mud stained and bloody body.
“Shh,” he whispered, clapping one hand to my mouth. “Do not say another word or I will gut you on the spot, I swear to God.” He threatened. “Now, where’s a pretty little boy like you coming from at a time like this?” He got close to my ear and displayed a grin so disgusting my stomach lurched.
“Don’t you know it’s dangerous out here?” His words were venom spilling out into the night air; his hot breath stirred the hair behind my ears. He took a lock and twined it between slender milk-white fingers of his other hand. My skin lurched from his touch and I watched him from the corner of my eyes. His fingers trailed delicately over my jaw line and pressed to my pulse.
I shuddered and bit my lip. Tears pricked at my eyes and I gulped back the urge to scream. He moved his hands, sensing my words. “I want to go home,” I sobbed. “I’ll do anything.”
Sympathy flashed in his eyes for a nanosecond, but was gone immediately.
“Absolutely not, you’re mine now. And I’m gonna make you beautiful.”
[Note: Wrote this gem for my Writer's Craft class in my senior year, I still can't believe that I read it out loud. And people actually liked it. Hopefully I end up finishing this at some point. At the moment, there are only 3 chapters and I completely forget what happens in the rest of the story]
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