These Bright Lights Have Always Blinded Me

Gerard’s P.O.V.

It was at the end of the day and I was in Mrs. Lake’s class waiting for the last art class to come in. I was helping Mrs. Lake out with her art classes because she was a bit sick. Soon the class filled up and I waited and watched as each student walked in. The last student was a girl with her head down and her hood up. Her shoulders were bowed and she slipped along silently, looking as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. I frowned, why was she like that? I watched her more and she took a seat towards the back, in a dark, secluded corner.
“Now class, I am a bit sick so Mr. Gerard Way will be helping us out. I know Mr. Way is not a teacher but I expect you to treat him with the same respect you give me,” I let Mrs. Lake’s voice drone off to a background hum.
I was watching the girl, she was more interesting. She wasn’t paying attention; I could see that by the way she was drawing. I became intrigued by what was holding her attention so absolutely so I walked up to her desk and stood behind her. I watched as she added in what appeared to be rain in her drawing and I was amazed at her talent. None of the other students so far, had drawn anything remotely as good.
“That’s a really good drawing,” I breathed in her ear.
She jolted back in fright which caused her head to hit my jaw hard. I yelped in pain and she looked up at me with her hand over her heart. She ripped a page out of her book and scribbled a note to me,
Are you okay? I’m sorry for hitting you
“I’m okay, it’s fine. I’m sorry for scaring you,” I said. She nodded and then turned her attention back to her work. Luckily, in the commotion it hadn’t been damaged. I didn’t want to lose this chance to talk to her so I asked,
“So, what’s your name?”
Belladonna.
That was a really nice name, it kinda suited her. It was nice but different. It had it’s own personality.
“How old are you?” I asked.
17.
“Why won’t you talk to me?” I asked, slightly annoyed. All she ever did was write notes.
I’m a mute.
I stared at her answer in shock, I wasn’t expecting that.
“Oh…” I said.
Now run along and help someone who needs it, and leave me alone.
I looked at her.
“Is that what you really want?” I asked.
It doesn’t matter what I want.
I frowned, how could she think that?!
“Of course it does! You’re a human being!” I burst out.
No it doesn’t. I’m just a fuckin' mute.
I looked at her, she never looked up from her art book. This drawing was different. It showed the shadow of an angry man and a small child curled up against a wall in a ball, clutching a teddy bear. It was a really moving piece and I said softly,
“Wow, that’s really motivating…”
The artwork was designed to show something that moves you or motivates you
“Well, it does exactly that. Well done!” I praised.
Thanks.
I wondered if she ever put any emotion into her replied or kept them plain and simple.
If you…if you really like it, then I have others. It’s part of a series you see.
I looked at her book, eager to see what other drawings she had. She then handed her book to me and I quickly snatched it away.

I flicked through the pages and saw the same child crawling away from the man on her back, the beloved teddy bear still in her grasp. Another showed the girl in tears and reaching up to grab something. The shadow showed that the man had ripped the bear in half and was holding them tauntingly in front of the child. My mouth had dropped open slightly; these pieces were really moving masterpieces. The next page showed the man backhanding the girl who was screaming and in tears and now also had an accumulation of bruises and cuts. The next showed the girl holding the two halves of the bear up to a mother figure, but the mother was screaming at her. The next showed the girl trying to sticky tape the bear back together but tears were building up in her eyes as the head started to fall off. The last showed that the girl had given up and was clutching both halves of the bear as she cried, curled in a ball, much like the first one. It actually broke me heart to see these. I knew that somewhere out there, this was happening…and I wanted to stop it, but I couldn’t.

I finally found my voice and I said softly,
“These are…amazing in a way that I feel so emotionally moved…no other artworks have moved me as much as these.”
They’re emotional works for me too. It makes me sad and angry at the same time.
“Yeah…does the girl have a happy ending?” I asked.
I watched as she wrote something, but then scribbled it out and wrote something else.
I wish. I don’t know yet.
I saw that the scribbled out words said, ‘I wish.’ I frowned, what the hell? But then I shrugged, maybe she has a story planned for the girl.
“Who is she?” I asked.
Her pen froze before writing,
Some girl I made up.
“You’ve brought her to life wonderfully,” I said.
And she had too. It was…indescribable.
Thank you…
“May I keep flicking through your artworks?” I asked.
I knew how artworks were incredibly personal things, and that most were never intended to be seen by other people’s eyes, so I was pleasantly surprised when she replied with,
Sure
I turned to the front of the book and I started from there. Each art work was brilliant and each character had been brought to life amazingly well. Each drawing had a depth/deeper meaning or a certain impending darkness that I loved. Each artwork was…amazing.

Once I’d finished I looked at her and said breathlessly,
“Your artwork is simply amazing!”
I’m glad you like it
“Have you considered doing something with your life in art?” I asked, she had more than enough talent! It would be a crime to hide the world from such fine arts. Her shoulders slouched a little,
What makes you think I’m going to do anything with my life at all?
“Why…why wouldn’t you?” I asked confused.
…Doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything.
My eyebrows creased together, forget? Yeah, right! That was the kind of thing I used to say when I was depressed.
I’ll talk to you later or something.
“What?” I asked.
She took the art book out of my hands and gave it to Mrs. Lake before walking out. I realized that I’d been so enthralled with her art I’d wasted the entire lesson.
“I see you’ve met my star pupil,” Mrs. Lake said.
“Belladonna?” I asked, to be sure.
She nodded.
“Does she ever take her hood off?” I asked.
“She did…once, a couple of years ago. It’s a shame she keeps that hood on, she’s a beautiful girl. Beautiful long, golden hair. Wide and innocent but sad crystal blue eyes and flawless skin. Except for a few scars. She could have guys kissing the very ground she walks on if only she would show herself off a bit,” Mrs. Lake said.
I raised an eyebrow at that.
“And Gerard, thank you for helping me,” Mrs. Lake said, giving me a kind smile.
I gave her a warm one back and said,
“My pleasure.”

I looked back at where Belladonna sat and I saw a black book lying, splayed out on the floor. I curiously picked it up and opened to the first page.
Dear Diary,
My Mama gave this book to me and told me it was a place to write my thoughts and feelings and stuff. I am 7 years old. I am a big girl! But Papa says to be a big girl I have to stay in my room and be very quiet, and I will. I want to make my Papa happy, like Tammy does when she runs and jumps in his arms, giving her Papa a big hug. But it’s boring in my room. Mama used to read to me all the time and we’d go to the park and play in the sun for ages. We never do that any more. She’s always got that bottle with the black and white paper around it that has two words that start with a J and a D. or she has I different bottle with pink liquid in it. I wanted some but Mama only lets me have it when I can’t sleep. It tastes weird and burns my throat, but I sleep nicely. No nightmares. When I’m older I’ll have that stuff all the time. I don’t like my nightmares. They scare me. Everything’s so dark. I don’t like the dark, it scares me. I’m getting sleepy now. It’s been ages and Papa still hasn’t told me he’s happy with me. I wonder what I did. Maybe if I ask him he’ll tell me. I’ll ask him tomorrow.
Night Diary.
Belladonna.

I stared at it in shock, it was Belladonna’s diary from when she was seven years old. I knew I should give it back to her but I wanted to know everything about her, from start to finish. I decided that, even though it was a terrible thing to do, I would take her diary home and read it. I packed it into my messenger bag and started to walk down the hallway to the office to sign out.

Up ahead I saw my brother Mikey with a hooded figure. I recognized the figure as Belladonna and I watched as she and Mikey conversed. I then saw Mikey throw back his head as he laughed. I saw Belladonna shove him and he stuck his tongue out at her and said something. Belladonna then clapped her hand over his mouth. I chuckled as I saw her pull her hand away in disgust and wipe her hand over Mikey’s clothes feverishly, as he laughed his head off, confirming my suspicions. He licked her hand. I was glad that Mikey was making a friend here, even if she didn’t talk. I watched them closely as they continued to mess around, behaving like idiots.