Hurricane

The looks and whispers were hard on me. Some days, I didn't want to leave the house, and most days I didn't. I was so worried about what others thought of me, I shut myself  down. 

I hadn't been an adequate mother that you needed, Izzy. I was a shell of my former self. I was back to being Ladonna.

Then, I had a rushed thought. I was tired of being my old self. It wasn't who I was use to. I wanted to be Rooney. I needed to be Rooney. On paper, more so than a nickname.

I went to my mother and told her my idea. I was changing my name. I wasn't going to be Ladonna Rooney anymore.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" She had given me an incredulous look.

"No, I think it's a great idea. I need to step away from being Ladonna. I'm sorry, mother, but this is what I have to do."

My mother just nodded her head, "What will this accomplish, aside from boosting your confidence?"

"I can go out, get a job, and interact without people knowing who I truly am. If they recognize me, I can say, 'No, I'm not her', without the awkwardness of having my birth name displayed."

"What is your name going to be?"

"Marie Rooney. No middle name."

My mom nodded again, "Okay, you have my permission, I guess."

I took that approving gesture and went to the court house. Within days, I was Marie Rooney, and I was a totally different person. I felt better, I must say.


It was 6 months before I had taken you to see Mikey again. Now that things around us were different; we lived in an apartment, I had a job and you went to daycare. I didn't know what to expect from him, honestly, if I gave up this information.

Anyway, he never seemed to happy when we came to visit. He would hold the phone and listen to you ramble about the kids in daycare and all the cartoons you watched. I could see, in his gestures, that he loved to hear it, he just wanted to be a tough ass and pretend he didn't care.

"She talks a lot." Mikey had told me; our visit was ending and you had given me the phone.

"Izzy likes to tell stories."

"Maybe she'll be a writer." He smirked at me.

"Why are such a D-I-C-K?" I had spell it so you wouldn't understand.

"I'm just being what everyone expects of me: a heartless, psychotic serial murder."

I had rolled my eyes, "Why not surprise them?"

"Why do you care? You're free, you don't have to deal with this shit anymore."

"I had to change my name to feel different." I told him.

"Changing your name doesn't make it stop, now does it?" He gave me a sinister look.

"No, it doesn't."

"Now that they decided to make movies of this shit, it'll haunt you and me and Isabel forever."

I hung my head, "I sometimes wish..." I stopped myself.

"What do you wish, Rooney?" He spat, "You'd never given so easily to me?"

"No...that I would have push you to tell me--"

"It's too late to wish. What's done is done." He hung up the receiver and walked away.

You had looked up, frowning, "Daddy didn't say goodbye."

I had sighed, "I know, sweetie."


God, the assumptions people made of us made me sick.

Those stupid TV movies made Mikey out to be some monster. They made me seem like I was pushing him to do it all. No one seems to think I was naive, no, they painted me as a fucking New Jersey Lolita. I was no sex kitten, I wasn't seducing Mikey to kill him. The sad fact that my father had caught us nude together just got warped in second hand talk.

I had dwelling on those stupid movies, but you will probably see that trash one day. This is why I'm writing this, so you'll know the truth. Hollywood, media, don't know the truth. 

I and Mikey do.

I guess fear drives me to hide the fact that I really am Ladonna. That I really am in this nightmarish type of life. I won't ever escape being Ladonna, you'll never escape being Mikey Way's daughter. It's foolish to think we can. We can't, we can't make people stop talking or thinking or judging us.

Until the story dies, or if everyone involved, spontaneously, dies; it'll never end. Second hand talk, teaching, history, it's always gonna be here. I can only hope that you never hear the harsher points of others ideals and speculations.

I can only hope you never hear what people think of us. But, alas, I can't close your mind or ears, I can't stop you from wondering. When you're older, I hope you ask me first, I hope you read this before you hear others opinions.

I wish we could talk about it now.