Tell Me Angel, Where Are You
You Were on The Bathroom Floor, I Don't Miss You
The fresh raindrops fell from the ash gray sky, growing steadier every few minutes. We didn't get many hurricanes in Jersey, but when we did, it was big news.
"Of course, I choose today not to call Gee for a ride," complained Frankie.
"Don't know bout you, but I love the rain."
I started doing a little jig in the middle of the puddle-filled road. I spun around getting dizzier and dizzier, until my legs started to wobble. You might find it strange to dance under the rain,but to me, it was natural.
I didn't realize how dizzy I was until I started to fall, but I felt two strong arms pull me up before I hit the ground.
"Hmm. Heh, thank you Frankie-kins."
"You know I'm here to catch you when you fall, always." He smiled.
He always knew how to make me smile.
"Hey, it's Friday, you comin' over to Gee's place? Scary movies during Hurricane Bertha, eh?
"Nope. I'm going to sit in my house, all by my lonesome, while my best friends are having fun without me, right next door."
Frankie looked a bit lost, "Then why don't you just co..."
The light bulb in his brain clicked and he just laughed, mainly at how long it had taken him to understand. He laughed again.
"Ew, too bad, no girls aloud." He stuck his tongue out and started merrily skipping off towards my house like a little school girl.
"Fine....then who am I going to share my skittles with?"
I have never in all my life seen a kid run back so fast. His weakness, that I knew all too well, was skittles.
"Why... me of course!"
He took my arm and forcefully made me skip until we reached my house.
"You go put your stuff away, then come over."
"Yes mommy."
He smirked as we went our separate ways.
Gerard Way lived right next door to me. He was my favorite neighbor, naturally. The other neighbor just said that I was a nuisance to society. Anyway, he usually resided in his fortress downstairs, he's such a little hermit. He was an artsy kid planning on becoming a comic book artist. He was so talented at what he did, I don't think he knew how great he really was. Any agency would be lucky to be graced with his presence. No joke, they would. Gee helped me through times where everyone though I was fine. He refused to believe my lies and he checked my wrists every single day. He's nineteen, only three years older then I am.Gee was the brother God had forgotten to give me.
Infact, all of my best friends were the older brothers that I wished I had. Gee, Ray, Bob, Mikey, and well, Frankie was closer to me in a relationship type way. They all knew of my father. If you couldn't tell, that wasn't a good thing.
I unlocked the door and the stench of the mixture of drugs and alcohol hit me like an atomic bomb. His keys were here which, unfortunately, meant he was here as well. I tired to stay quiet, but I hit the one squeaky tile. You would think I'd avoid that one after a while, but no.
"Adele?!"
Great, thanks a lot squeaky tile.
I didn't answer, I just followed the drunken voice towards the bathroom.
Down in his own sick, drenched in alcohol, and cigarette still burning, lay the man whom they say is my father,
He wasn't a real father. Aren't father suppose to care for their daughters? Aren't they suppose to protect them and love them? He, however, was the total opposite. Those bruises weren't from falling down the stairs or walking into walls and my best friends knew better.
"You bitch, help me the fuck up," He spat.
Angrily, I helped him up and tried to clear the surroundings. He fell once or twice because of the unsteadiness caused by the shaking and twitching. I bent down to try and clean up and he had stumbled into me.
"Hey ,watch wer ya goin' bitch, I'm tryna fuckin' walk!" he screamed in drunken rage.
"I didn't do anything, you walked into me." Me and my big mouth.
I instantly regret even opening my mouth.
He smacked me hard across the face causing my eyes to swell.
"I don't wan non o' yo lip! You were such a mistake, just like your goddamn mother and brother. Don't talk to..t..," with that he collapsed on the floor, fast asleep.
This place brought me on the verge of tears. Over and over again, being told you're useless and that you are a mistake gets to you after a period of time. No matter how many times you tell yourself it's not true, after a while you start questioning yourself.
My mother, she was like him, but God, I missed her. My brother, he was my favorite. Most of the time, they both would take hits for me. She would at least attempt to help, even though she would drink as well. My brother helped me to sleep at night and protected me. But when I was about seven or eight, I had been told my mother and brother died. He told me the entire story of a terrible car crash and how they weren't saved. Back then he used to drink a little bit, but ever since, it became a daily ritual. I didn't attend the funerals, or even say good-bye.
This wasn't a home. This was just a house filled with belongings. Home is suppose to be where you can be yourself. Home is suppose to be a place where memories built the foundation of the walls, making you feel safe. Home is a place where you're suppose to run to when you need help. Home is a place that's suppose to give you the warm feeling inside. Home is a place that's suppose to be filled with people who care. This house wasn't a home. My only home resided with my best friends. They were the home I never had, they were my family. They gave me more then this house ever did.
"Of course, I choose today not to call Gee for a ride," complained Frankie.
"Don't know bout you, but I love the rain."
I started doing a little jig in the middle of the puddle-filled road. I spun around getting dizzier and dizzier, until my legs started to wobble. You might find it strange to dance under the rain,but to me, it was natural.
I didn't realize how dizzy I was until I started to fall, but I felt two strong arms pull me up before I hit the ground.
"Hmm. Heh, thank you Frankie-kins."
"You know I'm here to catch you when you fall, always." He smiled.
He always knew how to make me smile.
"Hey, it's Friday, you comin' over to Gee's place? Scary movies during Hurricane Bertha, eh?
"Nope. I'm going to sit in my house, all by my lonesome, while my best friends are having fun without me, right next door."
Frankie looked a bit lost, "Then why don't you just co..."
The light bulb in his brain clicked and he just laughed, mainly at how long it had taken him to understand. He laughed again.
"Ew, too bad, no girls aloud." He stuck his tongue out and started merrily skipping off towards my house like a little school girl.
"Fine....then who am I going to share my skittles with?"
I have never in all my life seen a kid run back so fast. His weakness, that I knew all too well, was skittles.
"Why... me of course!"
He took my arm and forcefully made me skip until we reached my house.
"You go put your stuff away, then come over."
"Yes mommy."
He smirked as we went our separate ways.
Gerard Way lived right next door to me. He was my favorite neighbor, naturally. The other neighbor just said that I was a nuisance to society. Anyway, he usually resided in his fortress downstairs, he's such a little hermit. He was an artsy kid planning on becoming a comic book artist. He was so talented at what he did, I don't think he knew how great he really was. Any agency would be lucky to be graced with his presence. No joke, they would. Gee helped me through times where everyone though I was fine. He refused to believe my lies and he checked my wrists every single day. He's nineteen, only three years older then I am.Gee was the brother God had forgotten to give me.
Infact, all of my best friends were the older brothers that I wished I had. Gee, Ray, Bob, Mikey, and well, Frankie was closer to me in a relationship type way. They all knew of my father. If you couldn't tell, that wasn't a good thing.
I unlocked the door and the stench of the mixture of drugs and alcohol hit me like an atomic bomb. His keys were here which, unfortunately, meant he was here as well. I tired to stay quiet, but I hit the one squeaky tile. You would think I'd avoid that one after a while, but no.
"Adele?!"
Great, thanks a lot squeaky tile.
I didn't answer, I just followed the drunken voice towards the bathroom.
Down in his own sick, drenched in alcohol, and cigarette still burning, lay the man whom they say is my father,
He wasn't a real father. Aren't father suppose to care for their daughters? Aren't they suppose to protect them and love them? He, however, was the total opposite. Those bruises weren't from falling down the stairs or walking into walls and my best friends knew better.
"You bitch, help me the fuck up," He spat.
Angrily, I helped him up and tried to clear the surroundings. He fell once or twice because of the unsteadiness caused by the shaking and twitching. I bent down to try and clean up and he had stumbled into me.
"Hey ,watch wer ya goin' bitch, I'm tryna fuckin' walk!" he screamed in drunken rage.
"I didn't do anything, you walked into me." Me and my big mouth.
I instantly regret even opening my mouth.
He smacked me hard across the face causing my eyes to swell.
"I don't wan non o' yo lip! You were such a mistake, just like your goddamn mother and brother. Don't talk to..t..," with that he collapsed on the floor, fast asleep.
This place brought me on the verge of tears. Over and over again, being told you're useless and that you are a mistake gets to you after a period of time. No matter how many times you tell yourself it's not true, after a while you start questioning yourself.
My mother, she was like him, but God, I missed her. My brother, he was my favorite. Most of the time, they both would take hits for me. She would at least attempt to help, even though she would drink as well. My brother helped me to sleep at night and protected me. But when I was about seven or eight, I had been told my mother and brother died. He told me the entire story of a terrible car crash and how they weren't saved. Back then he used to drink a little bit, but ever since, it became a daily ritual. I didn't attend the funerals, or even say good-bye.
This wasn't a home. This was just a house filled with belongings. Home is suppose to be where you can be yourself. Home is suppose to be a place where memories built the foundation of the walls, making you feel safe. Home is a place where you're suppose to run to when you need help. Home is a place that's suppose to give you the warm feeling inside. Home is a place that's suppose to be filled with people who care. This house wasn't a home. My only home resided with my best friends. They were the home I never had, they were my family. They gave me more then this house ever did.