Sequel: Did We All Fall Down, Well After All ›
We'll Fly Home, You And I
Chapter 17
::Gerard's POV::
I sat on the couch with my foot propped up, encased in some sort of make shift cast. I could use it, but if I wanted it to work the best for when the show I have to stay off of it completely.
Bob's burn turned into a staph infection. A bad one. The doctors called telling how if we had waited one more day to bring him in, he would've died. They also said that he had been trying to escape the emergency room, but if he did he wouldn't make it. The infection gave him unusual stiffness on the left side of his face. We've also been told that he has to constantly have an ice-pack in his mouth to prevent loss of brain functions.
It was really tough on all of us to receive this news. I knew we should have moved Bob's drums farther away from the fire, but I didn't say anything. It made me feel like this was partially my fault and I was responsible. But, Bryan had found a temporary replacement. His name is Ryan. I don't like him that much, but I guess I don't really have that much of a choice.
We hated having to drive off and leave Bob in LA. We felt that we were leaving a part of us behind. We were leaving a part of us behind. Bob was our brother.
"Dad?" I heard a quiet voice interrupt my thoughts. I looked over to Hannah. She seemed quieter. More shy around me. No, it wasn't shyness. She was scared. She kept her distance.
"What," I asked, trying to sound as comforting as possible.
"I. . ." she trailed off. And went back to her bunk. She had been doing this for the last two days. It was beginning to worry me.
Ray sat across from me, staring at the ceiling. I knew he and Bob were closest out of the rest of us. They were the only ones that weren't kids at heart 24/7. Well, I guess I wasn't that now either now that I have Hannah. But they worked so hard and they've done so much for this band.
"Ray?" I asked. His head turned, his hair following.
"What." I felt helpless.
"Can you help me up?" He looked over at my foot and nodded. He came over, put his arm underneath my shoulder and lifted me up to my feet. "Thanks."
"No problem." I watched as he went back to his seat and his eyes returned to the top of the bus. It was sad to watch them like this. Using the walls, I managed to make my way back to wear Hannah's bunk was. Her curtain was closed. I knelt down to the floor.
"Hannah?" I pulled part of the curtain back to see her lying on the cushion. She glanced over at me, bags hanging underneath her eyes. "What's going on?" Her gaze left mine. She closed her eyes and answered.
"I've been having dreams." I studied her face for what she meant, but she showed no sign of emotion.
"What kind of dreams?" I asked. She squeezed her eyes shut even more.
"The kind I used to have when I was little. The really realistic kind." I leaned closer to her.
"Do you remember any of them?" She opened her eyes and light reflected off the small tears that had gathered. Hannah nodded her head, but remained silent. "Can you tell me?" Her eyelids closed once more and I barely heard her whisper.
"No." I sat there for a moment. What ever was in her dreams was greatly bothering her. I want to help her, but she won't let me. She rolled over and faced the wall so she was completely opposite me. "Can I talk to Uncle Mikey?" she asked. Maybe that was the best choice. He had dealt with this kind of stuff himself in the haunted mansion. He'll know what to do.
"Sure. Mikey?" I called to the back of the bus. His head popped out of the door. I pulled myself to my feet and told him the situation. A grim look came over his face and he agreed to her request.
"Do you want to go in the back room?" he asked. She didn't answer, but merely pushed herself out of her bunk and followed him. "Frank. Out." He said. Frank looked at both of them, instantly figuring out that another thing was wrong and left.
::Mikey's POV::
She sat on the couch opposite me, lying on her stomach. I got off of my seat and came to sit next to her head. "Describe your dreams," I told her. Her head bent lower to her chest. I could tell this was hard for her, but she wanted to get it out so she wasn't keeping it locked up inside.
"I don't see anything, but I hear his voice. It's always cold. He starts at my head and moves down my entire body. He tells me how much he loves me in a sarcastic tone before hitting me. My clothes just. . fall off of me and begins to bight everywhere. He likes to grab my hair and twist it and pull it. I've tried to run but he grabs me and pulls me back. And when he does, he is naked as well. He rubs my head against. . himself and tells me to bight it. When I refuse he twists my arms behind my back. He rapes me. And it feels ten times worse than real life." I was silent. Speechless. My pity for her grew even more. Her worst memories must be combining into one and torturing her in her sleep.
"Who is the man in your dream?" I asked. Her eyes looked up to mine and I see that they are red and sickly. Her mouth opens and closes. A shuttered breath escapes her lips.
"Gerard."
I sat on the couch with my foot propped up, encased in some sort of make shift cast. I could use it, but if I wanted it to work the best for when the show I have to stay off of it completely.
Bob's burn turned into a staph infection. A bad one. The doctors called telling how if we had waited one more day to bring him in, he would've died. They also said that he had been trying to escape the emergency room, but if he did he wouldn't make it. The infection gave him unusual stiffness on the left side of his face. We've also been told that he has to constantly have an ice-pack in his mouth to prevent loss of brain functions.
It was really tough on all of us to receive this news. I knew we should have moved Bob's drums farther away from the fire, but I didn't say anything. It made me feel like this was partially my fault and I was responsible. But, Bryan had found a temporary replacement. His name is Ryan. I don't like him that much, but I guess I don't really have that much of a choice.
We hated having to drive off and leave Bob in LA. We felt that we were leaving a part of us behind. We were leaving a part of us behind. Bob was our brother.
"Dad?" I heard a quiet voice interrupt my thoughts. I looked over to Hannah. She seemed quieter. More shy around me. No, it wasn't shyness. She was scared. She kept her distance.
"What," I asked, trying to sound as comforting as possible.
"I. . ." she trailed off. And went back to her bunk. She had been doing this for the last two days. It was beginning to worry me.
Ray sat across from me, staring at the ceiling. I knew he and Bob were closest out of the rest of us. They were the only ones that weren't kids at heart 24/7. Well, I guess I wasn't that now either now that I have Hannah. But they worked so hard and they've done so much for this band.
"Ray?" I asked. His head turned, his hair following.
"What." I felt helpless.
"Can you help me up?" He looked over at my foot and nodded. He came over, put his arm underneath my shoulder and lifted me up to my feet. "Thanks."
"No problem." I watched as he went back to his seat and his eyes returned to the top of the bus. It was sad to watch them like this. Using the walls, I managed to make my way back to wear Hannah's bunk was. Her curtain was closed. I knelt down to the floor.
"Hannah?" I pulled part of the curtain back to see her lying on the cushion. She glanced over at me, bags hanging underneath her eyes. "What's going on?" Her gaze left mine. She closed her eyes and answered.
"I've been having dreams." I studied her face for what she meant, but she showed no sign of emotion.
"What kind of dreams?" I asked. She squeezed her eyes shut even more.
"The kind I used to have when I was little. The really realistic kind." I leaned closer to her.
"Do you remember any of them?" She opened her eyes and light reflected off the small tears that had gathered. Hannah nodded her head, but remained silent. "Can you tell me?" Her eyelids closed once more and I barely heard her whisper.
"No." I sat there for a moment. What ever was in her dreams was greatly bothering her. I want to help her, but she won't let me. She rolled over and faced the wall so she was completely opposite me. "Can I talk to Uncle Mikey?" she asked. Maybe that was the best choice. He had dealt with this kind of stuff himself in the haunted mansion. He'll know what to do.
"Sure. Mikey?" I called to the back of the bus. His head popped out of the door. I pulled myself to my feet and told him the situation. A grim look came over his face and he agreed to her request.
"Do you want to go in the back room?" he asked. She didn't answer, but merely pushed herself out of her bunk and followed him. "Frank. Out." He said. Frank looked at both of them, instantly figuring out that another thing was wrong and left.
::Mikey's POV::
She sat on the couch opposite me, lying on her stomach. I got off of my seat and came to sit next to her head. "Describe your dreams," I told her. Her head bent lower to her chest. I could tell this was hard for her, but she wanted to get it out so she wasn't keeping it locked up inside.
"I don't see anything, but I hear his voice. It's always cold. He starts at my head and moves down my entire body. He tells me how much he loves me in a sarcastic tone before hitting me. My clothes just. . fall off of me and begins to bight everywhere. He likes to grab my hair and twist it and pull it. I've tried to run but he grabs me and pulls me back. And when he does, he is naked as well. He rubs my head against. . himself and tells me to bight it. When I refuse he twists my arms behind my back. He rapes me. And it feels ten times worse than real life." I was silent. Speechless. My pity for her grew even more. Her worst memories must be combining into one and torturing her in her sleep.
"Who is the man in your dream?" I asked. Her eyes looked up to mine and I see that they are red and sickly. Her mouth opens and closes. A shuttered breath escapes her lips.
"Gerard."