The *** of Gerard Way
The Transition
Mikey sat frozen in his white hospital gown. His heart was beating a hundred miles an hour. The room was cold. So cold, he could actually see his breath. He listened to the hum of the heater, but felt nothing but coldness.
Mikey let out a shiver and pulled the white blankets up to his chin. The room was empty, except for a ton of monitors and cables.
"I'm right here."
The voice echoed in his head. He thought of Bob.
He was telling the truth.
"Um... hello...?" He felt stupid talking to the air.
Nothing.
Mikey let out a cloud of breath and pretended to be relieved, but it was the silence that scared him the most.
Was it possible for the dead to communicate with the living? Was it possible that Gerard really was a ghost? Because if that was so, well then that wasn't really being dead. In a sense, you're still alive... even though you're dead.
Mikey screwed up his face. He had just succeeded in confusing himself.
He sat back and lay his head on the pillow, which was also white. His hands lay by his sides.
He stared at the hospital bracelet tied around his bony wrist. His full name was neatly printed above a barcode. He smirked.
"Looks like you're being sold on a supermarket shelf."
For the second time, Mikey froze. He sat still, except for his eyes, searching wildly for anyone hiding in the room.
Finally, he gave an exasperated sigh.
Without thinking he said, "Gerard, if you're in here, you better come the fuck out."
Suddenly, it was as if the entire room had darkened. The colors in the room were duller and blurry... except for one spot.
The area next to the television glowed with color.
Mikey gripped the white blanket, his knuckles also becoming white. He breathed quick, sharp breaths, afraid to relax and let his guard down.
A shadow appeared on the wall. A tall, dark shape, just standing still.
Mikey's eyes widened.
"What the hell?" He managed to whisper.
He suddenly felt drowsy. He squinted through the dark, watching as the shadow became more than just a shadow. But he could barely see anymore. It was like he needed glasses again. Everything was blurry.
The shadow, now more of a figure, moved toward him. All he could see was that he--it--had pale skin.
Mikey squeezed his eyes shut and opened again, hoping to wake up soon. His vision was beginning to darken. This feeling was now all too familiar.
The figure was closer now. It was practically standing over his bed. It had longish dark hair.
The color of Gerard's hair, he thought sadly. But Gerard had blonde hair when he had died.
Mikey was sleepy now. His eyelids became heavier and heavier. He struggled to blink them open, only to succeed in making himself even more drowsier.
He couldn't keep his eyes open. Finally, he just gave up.
He felt himself slowly slipping away. Slipping into a deep sleep filled with dreams.
The last thing he saw was the blurry figure bending over him, touching his face.
Or at least trying to.
Mikey let out a shiver and pulled the white blankets up to his chin. The room was empty, except for a ton of monitors and cables.
"I'm right here."
The voice echoed in his head. He thought of Bob.
He was telling the truth.
"Um... hello...?" He felt stupid talking to the air.
Nothing.
Mikey let out a cloud of breath and pretended to be relieved, but it was the silence that scared him the most.
Was it possible for the dead to communicate with the living? Was it possible that Gerard really was a ghost? Because if that was so, well then that wasn't really being dead. In a sense, you're still alive... even though you're dead.
Mikey screwed up his face. He had just succeeded in confusing himself.
He sat back and lay his head on the pillow, which was also white. His hands lay by his sides.
He stared at the hospital bracelet tied around his bony wrist. His full name was neatly printed above a barcode. He smirked.
"Looks like you're being sold on a supermarket shelf."
For the second time, Mikey froze. He sat still, except for his eyes, searching wildly for anyone hiding in the room.
Finally, he gave an exasperated sigh.
Without thinking he said, "Gerard, if you're in here, you better come the fuck out."
Suddenly, it was as if the entire room had darkened. The colors in the room were duller and blurry... except for one spot.
The area next to the television glowed with color.
Mikey gripped the white blanket, his knuckles also becoming white. He breathed quick, sharp breaths, afraid to relax and let his guard down.
A shadow appeared on the wall. A tall, dark shape, just standing still.
Mikey's eyes widened.
"What the hell?" He managed to whisper.
He suddenly felt drowsy. He squinted through the dark, watching as the shadow became more than just a shadow. But he could barely see anymore. It was like he needed glasses again. Everything was blurry.
The shadow, now more of a figure, moved toward him. All he could see was that he--it--had pale skin.
Mikey squeezed his eyes shut and opened again, hoping to wake up soon. His vision was beginning to darken. This feeling was now all too familiar.
The figure was closer now. It was practically standing over his bed. It had longish dark hair.
The color of Gerard's hair, he thought sadly. But Gerard had blonde hair when he had died.
Mikey was sleepy now. His eyelids became heavier and heavier. He struggled to blink them open, only to succeed in making himself even more drowsier.
He couldn't keep his eyes open. Finally, he just gave up.
He felt himself slowly slipping away. Slipping into a deep sleep filled with dreams.
The last thing he saw was the blurry figure bending over him, touching his face.
Or at least trying to.