It Never Ends

Sometimes he wished his life were a book, and he the author. Then he could write the two blessed words that would solve all his problems, and mend his broken soul. The two blessed words that would leave him at peace, and keep him safe. The End. Then he could start a new book, a new life. But alas, life was not so simple for him. He could not write his own life, and he could not control his own life, only accept things that came his way, no matter how awful, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He looked around the train at the other commuters. Either falling asleep or laughing and chatting with their peers. How easy it was for him to do that only two years ago, he thought sadly as he watched two girls in school uniforms laughing at some secret joke only two of them knew and understood. He was jealous of their freedom; freedom to laugh, and enjoy life, like he could only two years ago. Unfortunately, Gerard Way no longer had that privilege. HE took it away from him. Bert took away all his freedom. Bert took away all reason to live a complete life.. He sat hunched in the seat, perpetually shrinking, so even the small green bucket seat seemed as if it was looming around him, and suffocating, compressing, so he felt as if he could not breathe. He felt a panic attack coming, and shut his eyes, gripping the edge of the worn plastic seat.

“Breathe, just breathe,” Gerard whispered to himself, pressing a hand to his chest to steady his breaths. The faint hum in his ears grew to a crescendo, becoming the roar of a tide that threatened to sweep him off his feet and send him plunging into an eternal abyss of darkness. Shutting his eyes, Gerard forced himself to count to ten, barely hearing his mind’s voice for the deafening roar. Slowly, the noise subsided, then ceased, and he opened his eyes, focusing onto bleak reality. He noticed everyone was staring at him; perhaps his gasping for air drew sympathetic and curious attention. Conveniently, the train reached his stop, and he bolted for the doors, needing to escape all those eyes watching him. Stepping out onto the station platform, Gerard felt his head clear slightly, and he felt a wave of relief as the gray cloud numbing his head lift. But his relief was short-lived, and it turned into dread as he made his way back to the house they shared, each time taking a step closer towards impending tears and pain.

Walking down the gloomy hallway, a blanket of mustiness shrouded him, and Gerard dragged his feet unconsciously, not willing to return “home”, as Bert called it. “Their home.” Well, to him, home was a place of love, where you could be loved, a place of safety and warmth. What Bert referred to, as “home” was NOT home. Opening the door, he winced as it groaned, years of constant slamming having taken their toll. The house was quiet, except for the dripping of the ever-leaking faucet in the kitchen. Good, he sighed in relief, he wasn't home yet. SIghing, Gerard shuffled into the kitchen to prepare Bert's dinner before he came in. While dinner was cooking, Gerard went into the hallway to arrange his shoes into some semblance of order before Bert came in, but then suddenly, the door flew open and the doorknob slammed into the wall and stuck into the plaster from the force of the blow. Gerard looked up, startled, and the gasp in his through turned into zero density mercury as he saw the familar dark figure looming in the door frame, slightly lopsided, indicating a drunken evening, as he had seen it so many times before. Bert yanked the knob but it wouldn't budge, and the door refused to swing shut. Cursing loudly, he yanked the doorknob from the wall, and the old door gave one final groan and fell off its hinges.

“Damned door!” he yelled and threw it against the frame, making it bounce awkwardly before assuming an uncomfortable position against the old wood. Gerard trembled as Bert stormed down the hallway, knocking over the vase that they received during anniversary party a year ago, whe Bert was not to drunk to actually love him.

“Always hated that damned thing anyway,” he appeared in the doorway with a drunken leer on his face. The bitter alcohol odor that his breath carried hit Gerard in his face, although he was standing more than five feet away from him, and he reeled back involuntarily. Not again, Gerard thought miserably to himself.

“What’s for dinner, love?” Bert spat out the last word and lumbered with the grace of an ox, Gerard noted, over to the stove.

“Salmon?? You know I HATE salmon!” he yelled into Gerard's face, spittle spraying on his face, but he did not dare wipe it away, although it might as well have been acid from the way it burnt on his face, and stood stock still, save his involuntary shivering. Bert enjoyed salmon, and had always eaten it with gusto. But who was he to argue? Gerard was powerless when Bert was like this.

“I’ll fix something else then,” he mumbled and reached for the saucepan.

“Fix something else?? I tell you bloody well when you fix something else!” Bert shouted and with a sweep of his arm, sent the saucepan with the fizzling fish in it clattering across the room. Then, he suddenly grabbed Gerard's head and shoved it towards the open flame. Gerard's eyes widened in horror, and he flailed wildly, trying to free himself, but to no avail. Bert cackled manically and pushed him nearer, and Gerard's hair, his beautiful long black hair, caught fire. Bert released Gerard's head abruptly as the flames licked his arm and stumbled back out of the room, kicking the useless door aside and ran down the hallway. Gerard beat at his hair frantically with his hands, searing his bony fingers. Mucus and tears ran down his face, and he choked out gasping sobs. Running to the sink, Gerard beat the faucet wildly until a gush of water exploded out from the nozzle. He thrust his head – now on fire – under the tap and the fire fizzled out, leaving a charred nest where his hair used to be. Sobbing uncontrollably, Gerard remained under the gush of water, willing himself to drown, to be rid of this cruel world, but it was not enough, and he gave up, sinking to the floor. Bringing his head to his knees, Gerard rocked himself to and fro, in hope of stopping the stream of tears, all holding much more than just pain. They were tears of disappointment, crushed hope, wishful thinking and hurt. And as they crashed to the floor before him, so did the rest of his life.

The next day, Gerard cradled his heavily bandaged arms. He had dressed them himself, and they were clumsily tied, already coming apart. He looked at them, and his heart welled up with so much hurt it threatened to explode and fall out of his chest, shattering into a million pieces on the floor. And Bert would make him pick them all up, and he would cut himself on the shards, crimson regret spilling from the wounds. Gerard did not understand who Bert had become. He was not the man he had fallen in love with two years ago. That man had lovingly held him, and whispered sweet nothings to him. That man had wooed him and had captured his whole heart. But ever since he lost his job and started drinking, that man had morphed into a monster that terrorized his existence, everyday. Gerard had always believed that that man he loved was in there somewhere, deep inside that monster, and he always gave him a second chance, convincing himself leaving Bert was not the answer. Convincing, until he could not bear to anymore. But maybe, he thought sadly, it was time to stop believing that. Gerard pressed a hand to his heart, in attempt to stop the ache. But it was no use; it had been like that every single day since he had changed. Everyday, his heart broke, over and over again.

“Would this ever end?” Gerard whispered to himself, wondering if he already knew the answer, and dreading it. Suddenly, he heard the sound of heavy irregular footsteps outside the door, approaching the tiny flat. And before the creature could enter the room, he could only think one thing. No, it would not.

--This is a follow up poem--

I cringe as you spit on me.
And drag yourself out of the door.
Stone drunk.

I hate it when you come home.
Yelling and breaking things.
Deadly dangerous.

I wonder what you will do to me.
The next time you return.
Unceasing paranoia.

I remember when you loved me.
And lovingly caressed my brow.
Aching hurt.

I hear you coming home.
And I wonder if you still loved me.