Raise Your Glass High (For Tomorrow We Die)

Tingling. Stinging.

Whatever was mixed with the blood in my veins made my whole body sting. Burn. Every part of me was aching for relief as I laid motionless on the sodden ground. I could feel every drop in my veins scorching and searing and sparking with agony. What would have been the cue for me to make a valiant attempt at survival - to be the rock and heroine of strength - was passed up. My entire body was limp; it was difficult to think, let alone move. With all the horrors that I had pictured as a child, this was what I imagined dying to feel like.

But as agonizing and torturous as the wolf bite may have been, it was keeping me awake. Through the darkness - broken at the foot of the most repulsive tombstone - I was alive.

Face down in mud, the few patches of damp grass around me soothed some of the burn. My fingers flexed and dug themselves into the muck, the slabs of mud I gathered playing between my digits and cooling my aching skin.

It was at that moment that I realized my hair and the remains of my coat was also soaked not in pure blood but weighed down and diluted in fresh rain water.

The red that had previously stained my hands had vanished, revealing my nearly pure ivory flesh. It was paler than usual - sick and ill-nourished. I wondered briefly how long I had been bleeding in the graveyard if I had been unconscious through an entire rainfall.

How close was I to the end?

"Do you need someone to guide the way?"

I had never heard that voice before. It was a cold, rattling, sinister sound that made my breathing hitch and come back more ragged and strained than before.

The effort it took to lift my face out of the grime was almost maddening. And when I surfaced, I instantly wished I hadn’t.

"Are you lost, little lamb? I can help you find your way." Father Death held out a long, skeletal hand from under the ripped sleeve of his black cloak, his empty eye sockets shining with mischief and malice from under his hood. "Take my hand, little lamb. I'll get you to where you're supposed to go."

I knew what would happen if I took the hand he offered. I wasn't completely stupid; I knew the stories.

"I saw Gerard Way push you earlier. House of wolves, huh? You must have just escaped dying by a hair. I'm here to get you all the way there, of course. And I hear you only have one year left. I think the devil would be pleasantly surprised to see you arrive so soon."

I used all my strength to twist my neck and peer over my shoulder up the hill. The spot where I had seen Death’s statue earlier empty, save for a small, stone platform.

My throat tightened as I let out a soft groan of pain and panic, my lungs heaving. He stretched out his bony index finger so it hovered just inches from my face.

"Come on," he coaxed, the breeze picking up and sending a painful chill throughout my entire body. I whimpered at the spasm of my muscles and recoiled as much as my body permitted. "Take my ha--"

"Leave her alone, Death."

"Oh, Mother War, I was just having my fun."

"You know it's not her time yet."

"I'm just trying to help her along," he rattled, the words coming out as soft, shuddering hisses. “And you know how pleased Lucius would be to see her crash the gates ahead of time.”

"It's not allowed!" Mother War scolded, her voice amazingly clear through the gas mask on her face. Her fragile and sickly sweet voice could almost mask the venom sewed intricately inside every letter. "It's not her time!"

She threw her head to the side and emitted the harsh tone I knew she was hiding. "Gerard! Frank! Show yourselves!"

Frank came out from behind a large tombstone, tugging angrily at something that refused to reveal itself. "Quit it!" Frank whined, giving one particularly hard pull. Seconds later, Gerard came stumbling out from behind the stone, looking utterly pissed and harassed.

The pair froze at the sight of me, Frank’s expression suspended in pure shock and disbelief, while Gerard could hardly conceal his outrage at the sight of me still breathing.

I threw him the best smirk I could muster.

Mother War spoke maternally, pointing a delicate hand at me. “Explain.”

"Uhm," Frank cleared his throat, finally snapping to his senses. "What happened?"

"Mauled by the wolves," she replied grimly. She turned expectantly towards Gerard, while Frank shifted his attention to his leader, eyebrows furrowed. By that time I had picked up that Frank was probably Mother War's favorite. Even if he did have a hand in all of this - though I was sure he didn’t judging by his reaction to the sight of me - he could probably put off all of the blame.

"What? I didn't do it!" Gerard protested, his gaze moving from my limp body to Mother War. His eyebrows rose and the corners of his mouth bent in performance to the lie he was spewing. "I didn't!"

"He didn't do it," Frank supported, nodding in genuine belief. "Gerard wouldn't do that."

“Wouldn’t he?” Father Death rattled, eye sockets briefly glowing red under his hood.

Mother War turned. “What do you know?”

“How did Jack break his crown?” Death offered cryptically, hissing out an eerie laugh.

Frank’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean? He just fell.”

Mother War shook her head and tilted her head at me. “He was pushed."

Father Death cackled as he swept back up the hill, leaving us with a final “and Jill came tumbling after”, before mounting his platform and turning back into stone. Frank’s eyebrows sloped upwards in confusion as Gerard suddenly turned rigid.

“I smelled wolf’s blood on her.” Mother War spoke grimly, her voice carried in a swift whisper. “I want both of you to check on the wolves while I discuss this with Lucius. He will not stand for having executioners outside of his control.” With that, she calmly marched towards the shadows, leaving the two Black Parade men to stand over me in silence.

“You think she did something to deserve it?” Frank uttered, starting towards the shack I had climbed out of hours ago. Gerard’s black-gloved hands flew out and gripped Frank’s shoulder. “What?”

“We don’t need to check on them.”

“Why? Mother War just said--”

“They’re dead. All of them. Trust me.”

A stunned silence hung over the two before Frank yelped. “How the hell do you know, Gerard? Why didn’t you tell Mother War that you knew--”

"Shut up! Just shut up, okay? Before you get me in shit."

“What did you see?”

"Frank, will you shut the fuck up and move out of my way? I need to get rid of her before she regains her strength and squeals--"

"I can't believe you didn't tell me that you actually did feed her to the wolves! You had me tell Mother War a lie?"

"Shhh!"

"Gerard!"

"Shhh!"

"I can't believe you!" Frank hissed, throwing his hands in the air and pacing up and down. “When Mother War finds out -- when Lucius finds out--”

"Well they're not gonna find out," Gerard barked, advancing menacingly on Frank and towering over his petite figure. “Because you’re not going to tell and she is going to die before Mother War gets back.” His pointed face turned to me, eyes glinting wickedly in the street lamp and moonlight glow. “Aren’t you, honey?”

My breathing grew heavier as I clawed uselessly at the mud. I had to ignore the stabs of pain in my mutilated ankle and the reverberating ache in my body if I wanted to get away. If only I could just move...

Gerard’s harsh laughter rang in the air as he watched my feeble attempt to inch away. His thick-soled boot landed over the back of my hand, pinning me down in place and crushing me further into the mud. “Try all you want, sugar; you’re not getting out of this one.”

"I'm telling Mother War," Frank threatened abruptly, staring in horror as his leader crouched beside me. I let out a strangled cry before his palms wrapped themselves around my neck.

Gerard froze, peering up at his second in command, whose fists were balled tightly at his sides. “What did you say?”

"I said I'm telling M--"

"Shut up!" Gerard spat, his malicious eyes daringly boring into Frank's. "Now, why would you do that, Frankie? I'm simply doing what's best for all of us - for the Parade."

"You fed her to the wolves, Gee! Not only that but you lied to Mother War! You know you can't tamper with this shit!"

"No, I believe I don't..."

"Cut the bullshit, Gerard! You're the fuckin' leader; you know we can't feed anyone to the wolves for no reason!"

"I had good reason."

"Which is...?" Frank pressed, quirking an eyebrow expectantly.

"I didn't like her," Gerard shrugged simply, eyeing my crumpled form under his grip.

Frank threw his hands up in the air, growling in frustration. "You’re is ridiculous!"

"You're right. I still don't like her," Gerard corrected himself, turning the past tense into a very arrogant present tense. I laid motionless under his hands, afraid that any movement would set him off on me again. Though, I could barely contain myself from calling him a downright asshole.

"I can't fuckin' believe you."

"What can't you believe? That I don't like her? Frankie, she's not that great," Gerard said bluntly, crossing his arms. The pressure that weighed down on my shoulders from his touch lifted, and I quietly gasped in a large breath of air.

"No, you're stalling and I'm telling Mother War what you've done."

Gerard threw his head back and scrunched his shut in anger. "Why can't you ever do as I say and keep your mouth shut? I'm the leader, Frank. Me. Not you. You're only second in command and I swear to Lucius that I regret making you my right hand over my own brother so many years ago--"

"That's a shame, Gerard." Just from behind the largest tombstone in the graveyard reappeared Mother War, her wrath carefully concealed by her elegant strides. “I think Frank makes an excellent second. By why the quarreling?”

Neither of the boys answered. Gerard straighted himself out from the crouch he was in, taking a few tentative steps back from me as Frank nervously worried his bottom lip.

"Frank, what did he do?" Mother War pushed kindly, adapting her voice so it came out sugar sweet and motherly.

The shorter Executive’s eyes widened, his gaze shifting from Mother War to his glaring leader. His teeth sunk further into his lip.

"Go on, Frank. Tell her," Gerard permitted, rolling his eyes at how childish the scene came out to be. He looked resigned, removing his glare from his second in command to my pathetic composure. “We both know you will.”

"G-G-Gee fed Axel to the wolves," Frank said quickly, his tongue just barely shaping the words. I couldn't tell but I was pretty sure Mother War's face was horrifically enraged behind the gas mask. “I didn’t know before - “

"In my defense,” Gerard drawled, shifting his weight to his left foot. “She's still alive."

I could almost feel the rage emanating from Mother War as the ends of her wide skirt gently swept over my fingertips. She peered down at me through her gas mask for several moments before looking back up. Her voice came out icy and sharp.

“Gerard Way, just who do you think you are?”

Frank took an involuntary step back as Mother War took one towards his leader. Gerard instantly straightened up and folded his hands behind his back, traces of fear lingering on his poker face. He stood toe to toe with Mother War and, despite her being inches shorter, I could tell her wrath was greater than his could ever be.

“Your deal with Lucius isn’t bulletproof. Though the town may think otherwise, you are not at the top of the chain. I may let you get away with treating me as just another Executive on your Parade from time to time, but I will not allow you to abuse your power and get away with it. Especially now.”

My mind started to drift in and out of the darkness as I watched the scene unfold. It was hard to make sense of what she meant at the end as my vision began to darken around the edges. Especially now, especially now. What did that mean?

“With all due respect, Mother War, but I have just as much power as you--”

“You have less!” Mother War screeched, causing Gerard to stumble back. “You will always have less, and don’t you ever forget your place again! You are here only to collect souls when Lucius tells you to and only when Lucius tells you to. You go by his orders and when you’re not under one, you live quietly in your sin. You don’t meddle with the order in which we claim the souls in this town. You of all people should know not to mess with this one.

"Gerard, for partially breaking your deal with Lucius, you are hereby suspended from the Black Parade until October."

Gerard let out a snarl and glared at Mother War as she disappeared back into the shadows of the night, no doubt informing the entire Underworld of the suspension. I gasped as silently as I could for air, finding it harder to stay conscious with every passing second.

"I'm sor--" Frank spoke up finally, only to be cut off by the banned member.

"Shut up, Frank. You got what you wanted," Gerard said coldly, promptly turning and starting towards the top of the hill.

"What?"

He stopped and whipped around, teeth gritted and hands balled into fists. "You got what you fucking wanted, Frank! Don't you get it? Now that I'm off the Parade, you're the fucking leader! And don't play dumb with me because I know you knew that all along."

"I didn't mean for you to get --"

"Fuck off, Frank! Go home! Thanks to you, I have to sleep out here until October! That's three fucking months if you're not counting!"

"But Gee --"

"Go home! Go! Tell the guys you turned traitor and got the one who gave you a second chance at life booted out! Go on! Tell them you're taking over and that the fact that I got you all on the Black Parade in the first place meant shit!"

I shifted my dying focus to Frank's tiny stature, his lip quivering and his eyes glassy in the moonlight. I didn't know whether it really was his intention to take over or not but it was plain to see that he was regretting opening his mouth. It astounded me that the Black Parade functioned like this when the town wasn’t looking - that they were horridly dysfunctional and almost human in the way they interacted.

Gerard heaved and shook his head, heading up the incline after bringing Frank's self-esteem down a few notches with a final "you're so fucking pathetic, traitor."

The one now in command stood rooted to the spot, his hands hanging limply at his side. He must have been standing there for a good five minutes before he willed his legs to move out and head home with the others.

I peeked over my shoulder up the hill, still unable to move from the dirty, muddy ground. Gerard sat perched at the peak, his chin rested on his knees while they were drawn to his chest, and his arms wrapped around them. He had been kicked out of his home - a stray. He would be spending sweltering days and freezing nights out in the graveyard with nothing and no one for comfort and company.

And I couldn’t give a single damn because I was still dying and unattended to, and it was all his fault.