The Black Parade

LAUREN'S P.O.V.

I stared blankly, emotionlessly, waiting for an inspiration to strike me in my clouded eyes. Soon, the emotionless turmoil was transformed into a needless guilt of the mind, if I couldn't face my inner demons, how would I be able to catch a vengeful and perverse murderer? How would I be able to live with myself? Every single body found was like another blow, every fast-flowing blood drop scattered across the night sky and the alleyways was like my own... deep crimson teardrops were those I cried and bled for myself, for the dead strangers, for my own sorrow and loneliness that haunted my every movement. I never did call that guy back, but I didn't have time to do so, since I already had a hard enough time trying to deceive my partner of my never-ending hangover that I continued to encourage with my continuous and outsized alcohol consumption.

My drinking problem wasn't a way to keep the pain away, by getting drunk, or to feel happy. Drinking didn't make me happy, nothing did anymore; I couldn't even find the confidence in myself anymore to catch a lazy and constantly mistaken killer. I truly just wanted to depress myself even more with frequent alcohol consumption.

I sighed and decided to get some coffee, even though, as Agatha Christie said, “All coffee in England tastes like a chemistry experiment.” I would need it if I was going to survive yet another despondent and disheartening day of searching for a needle in a haystack. During my self-deprecating lack of attentiveness I realized something; I was already at the coffee machine and the ancient television that stood beside it flashed the news of the night: A woman and child had been saved from a burning building by the seemingly-Good-Samaritan, and that was none other than: Abigail Walters, also known as, Mary Jane Venin, also known as: the mass murderer Vengeance So Sweet. And she was currently at a nearby hospital. I called Tony over from his unorganized and food-splattered desk and seeing the TV he grinned wider than I’d ever seen the handsome man smile before, it was like a reincarnation of Cheshire Cat, “Well, I’ll be damned!”

“Damn yourself, let’s go catch us a criminal.” I stated bluntly, grabbing my trench coat, with Tony following behind me, a bounce highlighting his jaunty steps. I sighed at his emanating happiness and decided that I would try to be appreciative that the murderer was handed to us on a silver platter. Or a hospital gurney, as it should be said. Though, I’d still continue to beat on myself for all of the mistakes that comprised my being and living style. Or attempt at living.

As soon as my self-contempt-rant began, it ended, because we had made it to the hospital.

Showtime.

GERARD’S P.O.V. (Now where we left off last chapter…)

“How is it that you save two people and are repaid by blatant lies?” I asked Mary Jane, while glaring at the federal agent very ‘obliviously,’ acting for Abbey’s sake… acting as if I didn’t know o the past that haunted her… though I’ve finally found… I really have never know either of these people, Mary or Abbey, she was just Vengeance So Sweet now, inside and out. I would try and clear her name, for the sake of a month that had made me fall in love, for the sake of a deeply buried sentiment that I knew would remain unrequited, but I had only fallen for an idealized version of a ‘reformed’ killer. I was such an optimist to think that, after all she had gone through; she could live like a regularly functioning Londoner.

“Do you really think that any of us care what lies she has fed you? Mary Jane Venin might be a vigilante, but vigilantism is a crime punishable by law when the vigilante is also more of a murderer than any I’ve met before. And I’ve met plenty before, darling.” She directed the last at Abbey, with a smirk contorting her tired features. I stood between both women, protecting Mary, but in the next few moments, I finally realized that… she didn’t need my protection.

“Move, Gerard, I’m innocent until proven guilty, so why should I care?”

‘You’ve already been proven guilty, so let the dear go, Mr. …?” The agent said, her tone colored with amusement, which my angry glare held none of.

I remained silent, not intent on giving her the satisfaction of pulling my strings. Though, in truth, she shouldn’t have been able to even marionette one of my threads, or I shouldn’t have any more yarn connected to Abigail Clarice Walters, Mary Jane Venin, or the murderous vigilante… But I do, and there’s nothing I can do to change it.

“Well then, if you won’t lend me your name, then you could at least tell me which of the pseudonyms you know your ‘friend’ by.” She nonchalantly made air quotes, while leaning against the sterile hospital walls. The law-enforcer wasn’t even aware of what I knew about Mary, she wasn’t aware that she had found redemption, but she was right in saying that Abbey had deformed into a merciless killer again.

“Or I could just charge you with harboring a murderer, which is also known as ‘Aiding and Abetting.’” She seemed like she was having the most fun she had in years, but I knew better. After many years of working through emotions, music, I could tell what lay behind an individual’s eyes, and all that I could see behind her eyes was vacant emptiness. And it scared me.

ABBEY’S P.O.V.

“What’s with people and protecting me? Guess what, I confess, yeah, I did it, all of it, and I deserve to be put away, for killing the cancer patient. The rest, yeah, I did kill my parents, parents who didn’t deserve to take care of even a plant, because their influence would let it wither and die, or they’d beat the plant into a pulp as often as possible.” I told her, as she took me away, handcuffing me roughly, I turned back to the people that I had come to know as friends, “Thanks for the good times, I’m glad for your friendship, but this isn’t the person you knew, this is me. I loved you Gee, don’t forget it.”

I let myself be taken out of the hospital, but another gust of air followed us after the door closed, I turned to see the nurse shouting after us, “Stop, stop, STOP! I need to tell you something!” She pleaded, but Lauren Lobotomy kept going, she let the woman shout something inaudible after us, but the door opened again. I saw Gerard stare out after me with starless eyes, and I briefly let a look of compassion overtake my features, then I looked away. Stone, again.

I was forced into the backseat of the dark SUV, I was pushed into the seat, where I was buckled in, and we departed from the hospital. After a few minutes, I let the cool metal of the handcuffs rest comfortably against my wrists, well, it wasn’t comfortable, but did I care? No, of course not, I deserved every moment of pain.

I deserved everything that had ever gone wrong for me, all because I killed a witness, why did I even care, anyways? It wasn’t as if I had an identity! I just killed him because I lost my morality in all of the bloodshed and I began to enjoy it… oh, hell, did I enjoy it. Every slash that murdered a murderer was just another laugh in my frothing mouth. I was as rabid and careless as any narcissistic killer, because self-absorbed killers think that blood looks good with their skin tone. Blood was my method of bathing, cleansing both the spirit and the soulless heart that I kept so locked away. I was stupid, why didn’t I just die before I went insane?

We reached the jail. I reached my bona fide redemption.

Or not.