Breaking Hearts Has Never Looked So Cool

I swayed on the spot, and I watched Gerard be dragged out of the house by the male officer as if it was happening in slow motion. It felt like it was a dream, a horribly vivid dream – the sort where something you didn’t even realise was your worst fear happens.

“Oh my God,” I heard Donna utter, and I wasted no time in rushing down the stairs, tripping on every step, to get to her.

She had tears threatening to spill out of her eyes that were so much like Gerard’s. I wanted to apologise; if it hadn’t been for me they wouldn’t have carted him off like that...but I couldn’t think of a way to say it without sounding emotionally backward, so I said nothing and focused on trying to ward off my own tears instead.

“Are you Miss Mance?” asked the female police officer, and close up I saw that her face was not that soft at all, she looked rather like an angular brick.

“Yes,” I whispered, knowing that if I spoke any louder I would burst into hysterical tears. It was such a surreal situation – I had the blood-chilling feeling that it was particularly horrific, and yet I still felt almost as though I was watching it from a spectator’s seat a long way off.

“We’re going to need to speak to you too,”

I nodded mutely, wondering if they would take me in the same car as Gerard. At least then I would get to hold his hand.

“I’ll take her down,” said Donna suddenly, and I felt my mouth drop open in shock. I thought that she would be close to physically throwing me out of her house. Because of me, and my actions, and my stupid age, her son had been arrested and was about to be jetted off to the police station.

“Are you sure?” I asked, and from her incredulous expression that my face was betraying my shock.

“Of course I am,” she said firmly, “It’s our boy they’ve got, we need to stick together and straighten this out,”
And then, with an awe-inspiring collectedness, she gently picked up her handbag and turned back to Donald. “Don,” she said softly, “will you wait for Michael and tell him what happened?”
I heard a quiet yes come from the living room before Donna wrapped a soft, florally perfumed arm around my shoulders and led me out to her car.

We were both silent on the way there. I felt my insides get ravaged over and over again by guilt. I had known from the start that I would be nothing but an encumbrance for Gerard. He deserved so much more than me...The thought that this episode would make him realise that hit me, and I fully dissolved into dry, hacking sobs.

“Don’t cry dear,” Said Donna gently, but looking quickly back at the road, “it’s not your fault...he’s a grown man, you know,”

“It’s not his fault either!” I protested, “I’m not a child,”

The sobs were coming even harder now. Surely, after this horrific event, Gerard would look at me with disgust and regard me as nothing more than an immature child causing him more trouble than I was worth.

“I know,” she said caringly, “but in the eyes of the law...”

We both sat in silence as I worked hard to keep my breathing under control. I kept running my hands through my hair and blinking to keep the tears back. I could feel from the sticky consistency of the water on my face that what remained of my mascara had come away during my sobs, but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered, except making sure that Gerard was ok.

The second we pulled up outside the shabby old police station, Donna and I leapt out of the car and positively sprinted to the entrance. The female officer was waiting for us there, a falsely welcoming smile fixed on her mouth.

“Don’t worry,” she told me patronisingly, “you’re going to be alright,”

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” I replied bluntly, “I want to know if Gerard’s ok,”

She cocked an eyebrow at me as if to say ‘oh you are a silly girl, he really tricked you good,’ and placed a hand on my back, “He’ll be just fine. I’m going to ask you a few questions now,”
Rather rudely, she steered me away to a side room, leaving Donna standing quite alone under the unflatteringly neon strip lighting. I waved sadly to her as I was led away and prepared myself for a difficult interrogation.

“You don’t have to be scared,” she said when we had sat down opposite each other. I was acutely aware of the big mirror on the other side of the room and I wondered if anyone was in there watching us talk.

“I’m not,” I said, confused, “why would I be?”

She gave me another look as though I was an irritating child and cleared her throat, “You can call me Sylvia, if you like,” she said in what she probably imagined was a kind voice; she was clearly attempting to build a rapport with me.

“Alright,” I said stiffly, fiddling with the cuff of my cardigan. “Why did you arrest him?” I asked, just as she was drawing breath to ask me a question.

“Because statutory rape is against the law,” she said matter-of-factly, “and we received a call,”

“What, like a tip-off?” I demanded, suddenly incensed with rage. My mind burned as I wondered swiftly who could have done such a terrible, underhanded, beastly, cruel thing.

“Who?” I asked forcefully, resisting the urge to slam my hands impatiently on the table.

“I can’t tell you,” ‘Sylvia’ answered, eyeing my reddening face with distaste. She had evidently thought that I was going to be easier to interview than this.

“I think I’m supposed to be the one asking you questions,” she said, pursing her lips and looking down her nose at me.

“What is your relationship to Gerard Way?” she asked,

“He’s my boyfriend,” I replied belligerently, “Yeah,” I added, “my boyfriend so clearly no one got raped, for crying out loud!”

“The definition of statutory rape is different to that of rape!” Sylvia reminded me, “And being in a relationship with someone doesn’t makes sexual abuse right,”

“Sexual abuse?” I asked sarcastically, “who’s getting sexually abused! You’re blowing this way out of proportion!”

“And you’re making this even more difficult for yourself, and for Mr Way,” replied Sylvia dangerously, so I shut up and folded my arms and tried to look anywhere but her coldly penetrating pale blue eyes.

“Now, tell me, have you and Mr Way been...intimate?”

I blushed, and looked down embarrassedly. I had never directly been asked that question before. “Yes,” I whispered, figuring that it was best just to tell the truth.

“Was he aware of the fact that you are only 17?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at me,

“Oh for the love of God!” I exclaimed, unable to contain myself, “I’m 18 in September! Aren’t there people out there getting murdered? Or actually raped? Are you sure that this really should be your priority?”

Sylvia only raised her eyebrows frustratingly at me, “The law must be upheld,” she said calmly,

“Well the law’s stupid!” I replied immaturely,

“But it’s there,” she said, “Now tell me, was Mr Way aware of your age?”

“Yes,” I answered reluctantly,

“Do you know if he’s ever had younger girlfriends before?” she questioned, scribbling on her notepad,

“No...” I said slowly,

“Does he seem to be...aroused by the fact that you are younger?” she pried,

“NO!” I yelped in return, feeling as though I had been physically hurt.

“Did he or does he manipulate you in any way?” she asked, “Do you feel obligated to stay with him? Does he buy you things to keep you around?”

“No,” I replied, tears erupting once more, “Stop it!”

“Has he ever pressurised you into doing something that you don’t want to do?” she interrogated,

And I felt at breaking point, “Stop!” I cried out again.

I felt racked with pain; she was taking what Gerard and I had and making it into something it wasn’t – seedy, sleazy and dirty. I simply could not tolerate hearing him be slandered constantly like that.

“I love him,” I whispered simply, “Pure and simple. I’m in love with him, and he didn’t force me to be, or ask me to be, or manipulate me to be, I just am. I can’t help it.”

Sylvia looked somewhat perplexed; it seemed like she had been expecting better things from me, the alleged ‘victim.’

“What time is it?” I asked, suddenly realising that it must have been getting late,

“It’s quarter past ten,” answered Sylvia,

We sat in silence for a few moments, and I was finally relieved that she had stopped talking. I wondered if they had fired the same sordid questions at Gerard, and if he had found it as dreadful as I had.

“What will happen to him?” I asked fearfully, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t be tried.

“That depends...” replied Sylvia, trailing off somewhat,
A knock on the door sounded, and an immaculately dressed young policeman walked in and whispered something in Sylvia’s ear.

“Come with me,” she said calmly, and I did as I was told. Leaving the poky interview room was like being set free from a dungeon; everything seemed more pleasant and brighter; the modest corridor almost seemed cavernous.

Then, at the end of the hallway, standing by the reception desk, I saw a hunched little figure I really did not want to see. She was sniffling, and I could tell from the look on her face that she was tremendously upset. My heart wanted to run away and find Gerard, but somehow my feet carried me to where my mother was standing.

“Hi,” I whispered embarrassedly,
“Hello,” she replied awkwardly,

We stood looking at each other helplessly for a moment, before she shamelessly pulled me into a huge hug,
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, “how could you not tell me that you were this serious about someone?”
“I thought you’d flip because he’s older...” I trailed off pathetically, wondering hopelessly where Gerard was now. Donna had disappeared too, and I hoped that that was a good thing.

“Not as much as I flipped when I got a call from the police saying that you’d been raped!”

“Statutory!” I protested, “It doesn’t even count,”

My mother’s deep brown eyes that may have been my own bore deep holes in me.

“Was it you?” I asked quietly after a while,

“What?”

“They were acting on a tip-off,” I told her, still in my deadly quiet voice, “did you call?”

“Honey, I didn’t know anything about it,” she said sadly, “how could I call?”

She looked downcast, and I felt like I had to alleviate her suffering.

“I really love him mum,” I told her sincerely, and once again she looked shocked; but it subsided as quickly as it rose up.

“At least you’re with someone you care about deeply,” she commented,

“Someone I love,” I corrected. I could tell that she was just dying to snap ‘you don’t know what love is,’ but happily she refrained and clapped her hand to her forehead.

“I decided not to press charges,” she said quietly,

“What?” I asked, hardly daring to believe that this nightmare might finally be over.

“You’re a minor, so it’s up to me if I press charges or not, and I told them I wouldn’t,” she reiterated.

I looked her in the eye again and felt sure that she was being honest about not being the tip-off. She was my mother, after all, even if she was freakishly over protective sometimes.

“Connie!” called a voice from behind me, and I felt unspeakable pleasure; it was like I hadn’t heard him speak for years,

“Gerard?” I called eagerly, turning around to see him power walking towards me, with a tired but relieved looking Donna in tow.

“I’m not being charged!” he enthused with a wide grin, pulling me into a warm and affectionate hug.

“I’m so pleased,” I whispered into his neck,

“I was so worried about you,” he told me quietly,

“You were worried about me?” I laughed, “Why?!”

“I was worried about how you’d cope with it, with what they implied about...”
I knew what he was talking about, and communicated that through meeting his eyes meaningfully.

“I realised something while I was sitting there though,” he said, suddenly looking quite shy, and looking down.

“What did you realise?” I asked, panicking slightly. This was it; he was going to tell me that he’d realised I was too young for him after all and that we would be better off apart.

“I realised that...fuck, I’m just going to say it, I’m in love with you,”

It took a while for my brain to register what he had said, “what?” I grinned, not caring that all of the surrounding people were now staring at us,

“I love you,” he repeated, “I don’t know how the hell you managed it, but somehow you got me to fall head over heels for you,”

I couldn’t help but grin forcefully, “I love you too,” I replied, making him look very relieved before he lent in and kissed me briefly and softly.

“Ahem.” My mum was clearing her throat behind us, so I turned around nervously, clutching Gerard’s arm like it was my lifeline.

“Mum,” I said clearly, “This is my boyfriend Gerard. Gerard, this is my mum.”

“It’s nice to meet you Mrs Mance,” said Gerard politely, “I’m sorry about the circumstances...thank you for...uh, not pressing charges,”

“That’s quite alright,” replied my mother, taking in Gerard carefully, as though she was still surmising whether or not he was ‘good’ enough for me.

Little did she know that it was the other way around! I was the one not good enough for him!

“It would be lovely if you came around for dinner sometime soon,” my mum said, looking at me significantly. At least she was trying to make an effort.

“Well, it’s getting late,” Donna jumped in, “we should probably get these two crazy kids home,”

“Absolutely,” agreed my mother, “thank you for bringing her down here,”

“I think it was the least I could do,”
We drew nearer to the parked cars.

“I love you,” said Gerard, giving me a parting peck on the lips,

“I love you too,”
It should have been a perfect end to a fraught night. I should have gone to sleep happy, thanking the heavens that something good ended up coming from such a dire situation. Gerard loved me, and that was all I had wanted for a long time...yet still I could not sleep. I could not be content enough to lay still, and I knew exactly why.

If my mum hadn’t made the call, then who had? I wasn’t going to be able to rest until I found out...