The Black Parade

A wind sweeps majestically through a barren room, knocking bits of accumulated dust off of stone walls. All is silent, with the exception of a lone cry, echoing through the halls.

I am the patient, I can tell, through the blood that soaks my bare body, to the effects of the chemo, she killed me, I am alone. I am tortured by my own thoughts and actions, no one can hear me scream, and no one is there for me as blood continues to flow relentlessly from my abdominal wound.

A sound, I hear footsteps, tick, click, a piano begins to play. I hear nothing else as drums are added to the beat, I then hear a voice, so angelic, but filled with regret.

I heave a sigh when the song ends, with guitars and bass added on full volume, and the footsteps near their end, as do I...

I am pulled out of the dream world as I feel a warm arm around my bare waist, black fills my vision, and I open my tightly shut eyes to see...

Skin?

I remember the night before vaguely a blur among far more defined memories; I look down to the floor... a sketchbook?

I gently pick up the book, I see that on the last page, there is a sketch of me, and the odd night that I had came back in a flurry of sounds and pictures... Ouch.

The only thing that stood out at me was how elated that I suddenly felt. Like I had felt as I moved away from abusive parents and naive high school scholars, but way better.

He stirred; I crept back to my place within his arms. I fit perfectly; I was warmed, as was my heart.

He awakened, going to stretch but realizing that something was holding his arms down, me.
He giggled, nuzzling my neck, "Morning, beautiful."

I smiled back, "A very good morning to you too, Gerard."

He grinned cheekily, "Call me Gee."