Red Scars Shimmer on Your China Skin

-Who? Can you repeat it please?-
- Gerard Way-
- Mm-mm…let me check, but I have to warn you, this is a small structure and I’ve never heard this name before.- My heart misses a beat. I clench my fists, what remain of the nails stuck in the palms. I begin to sing a song for not to hear. Not to hear her fake nails beating those keys, typing the name. Not to hear the computer making a sound, the sound of entry error, don't hear it once, twice, and the final puff from the woman
My ears roar and I desperately try to find among my memories anything that can distract me from her, who stands up and shakes her head and moves her lips. But she's really good. She knows what that means, for a moment, in her eyes has passed the same void that there is now in mine. She grabs my arm and brings me back to the hard reality.
- I'm sorry but there isn't any Mr Way in the archive... –
I'm not going to collapse here. I force a smile on my lips, I force the voice to the vocal cords. You have a lifetime to cry, stupid Frank, you can wait five minutes. It is with this song that I swallow tears and bile and the shards of my poor heart.
- Never mind, I knew that I wouldn't have found him. I knew he was wrong-
- It happens sometimes-
- He has insisted so much ... - I feel the anger mounting. He insisted so much. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Damn Dowson, damn fucking Dowson. - Mick had told him, even I knew it... -I clench my teeth, is coming out. I allow myself to break the pen on the desk. She looks at me sideways. She doesn't’t like me to break her objects. She lets go of me, her cheeks a little flushed. Maybe she's pissed.
- Who has informed you? We don't usually send around data of our patients-
I look at her straight in the eyes. Who the fuck does care about privacy? I did miles, I ate dust because a dickhead woke up one morning and thought he had seen a dead person. And she comes to me talking about privacy?
- Forget it, now I have to go-
- You relatives are always the same...- she lets slip between her lips, poisonous
- What?-
- I said you relatives act always the same way-. She straightened up, a flush of pride in her eyes, like one of those who knows it all and is too superior to talk.
- We do what?- I am in disbelief, I can't say more. But what the fuck she think she knows? Does she really understand how it feels? What it means to lose?
- I've seen hundreds like you. Desperate, grieving, spending days commiserating yourselves. And then, when they hear a rumor, they'll fly across the continent to search. Searching what, I ask? You’re always the same, that at the first difficulty break pens and fuck off back there where you came from -.
I let myself be soaked by all her words, her hatred. I understand that she is the first to pick up the pieces, she is here when these poor souls, during the night wake up screaming, pleading for mercy. I turn and I see all these old people abandoned by those who believed loved them. Left here to get shit on themselves and drool. And this woman is the only one that remains, the only one who washes them and gives them rest from rheumatism, from Parkinson's disease, from becoming beasts and empty shells.
I let myself be soaked by all her words, because I holed up in my corner too. I buried you even before I had at least a piece of your white meat.
I let myself be soaked by all her words because I've always been a coward.
I fell down on my knees again, crying again. But this time the woman is with me on the floor and knees.
- Tell me what he looks like. We have 4 patients in pavilion 3 without memory. We have no data on them and we keep them here for charity. Maybe who you are looking for is among them-
I stand up and I wipe my tears with my shirt sleeve. I nod.
- Follow me, the pavilion is on this side- she stretches the skirt with her hand. She returned cold. I tag along behind her and say goodbye to all the vows I’d made.