The *** of Johnny Ramone and Other Stories
The Lies I Gave You.
Gerard's POV
Two weeks later
I banged the wall with my fist.
"LET ME OUT, FRANK!" I yelled with all my might. Frank stood in front of me, a small smile on his face.
"Not until you behave," he said quietly, yet it rang in my ears a thousand times.
"I will, I will," I sobbed. Frank crept over to me, his face bathed in amber light. His eyes burned red and spoke in a distorted, deep rumbling voice.
"I know you've been cutting yourself everyday. You deserve it. You don't deserve to live."
I crouched down on the floor, my hands practically ripping my hair out with all this suffering, I just wanted this nightmare to end...
"Gerard?"
"GERARD WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
My eyes snapped open and I could see Frank rushing towards me. I tried to move away but my legs, arms and body felt like lead.
"I not doing nothing," I mumbled childishly.
"Gerard, what is this?" Frank's voice was heavy with sadness and a little anger. He held up a syringe so I could see it.
My syringe.
"Gee, what have you..." he didn't wait for an answer, he had already grabbed me by the shoulders and heaving me up. He pulled back my sleeves and gasped in shock. My sight was blurry but I could tell he was looking at my arm. I could feel blood tricling down my arm. Frank dropped my arm as if it was infected.
"You've been using again..." He said.
"It was only a bit," I slurred.
"It doesn't matter, I told you to give up heroin or give me up!" He shouted. It rang in my ears, the sound excrutiating, I gave a grunt of pain and growled:
"Don't do that! Just leave me alone until I'm sober!"
"Fine. I'll be getting pissed while your here injecting!"
A scuffle.
The door slamming.
I screamed in pain again.
Frank didn't know anything, anything about my pain and suffering.
Two weeks later
I banged the wall with my fist.
"LET ME OUT, FRANK!" I yelled with all my might. Frank stood in front of me, a small smile on his face.
"Not until you behave," he said quietly, yet it rang in my ears a thousand times.
"I will, I will," I sobbed. Frank crept over to me, his face bathed in amber light. His eyes burned red and spoke in a distorted, deep rumbling voice.
"I know you've been cutting yourself everyday. You deserve it. You don't deserve to live."
I crouched down on the floor, my hands practically ripping my hair out with all this suffering, I just wanted this nightmare to end...
"Gerard?"
"GERARD WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
My eyes snapped open and I could see Frank rushing towards me. I tried to move away but my legs, arms and body felt like lead.
"I not doing nothing," I mumbled childishly.
"Gerard, what is this?" Frank's voice was heavy with sadness and a little anger. He held up a syringe so I could see it.
My syringe.
"Gee, what have you..." he didn't wait for an answer, he had already grabbed me by the shoulders and heaving me up. He pulled back my sleeves and gasped in shock. My sight was blurry but I could tell he was looking at my arm. I could feel blood tricling down my arm. Frank dropped my arm as if it was infected.
"You've been using again..." He said.
"It was only a bit," I slurred.
"It doesn't matter, I told you to give up heroin or give me up!" He shouted. It rang in my ears, the sound excrutiating, I gave a grunt of pain and growled:
"Don't do that! Just leave me alone until I'm sober!"
"Fine. I'll be getting pissed while your here injecting!"
A scuffle.
The door slamming.
I screamed in pain again.
Frank didn't know anything, anything about my pain and suffering.