Cancer//adopted by my chemical romance

Chapter 20:

Twelve hours.

Twelve hours...

Twelve hours since I thought that finally, for once, my life was turning around for it all to go to shit.

My brain won't stop.

It won't end, the whirring, the spinning.

I just want to put my head through a fucking wall.

I feel so empty, so numb.

Yet so full of every emotion at the same time.

-

We had gotten into the house, Ray and Frank following us in.

I could tell that they hadn't wanted to go home or leave, and for their own peace of mind, as well as the comfort of themselves Gerard nor Mikey had the heart to tell them to go home.

They're family; and they practically live here anyway at this point.

It didn't take long before my mum walked down from the stairs.

She looked tired, heavy bags forming under her eyes, but otherwise okay.

She explained that she has simply had a one off episode.

It couldn't be put down to anything more than that; they'd run tests on her and she'd been okay.

She excused herself to go to bed, she was exhausted.

The guys had all forced me to come down to the basement with them, to watch movies and hang out.

I know that it was for their own peace of mind, and soon enough the topic of my cutting had came up.

Gerard had taken me to one side as everyone else has gone upstairs.

I know that it has been executed that way, they hadn't wanted to upset me; they wanted to keep me calm, and not overwhelm me.

And because of my good mood, my positive outlook, I had gladly gone and gotten my blades, bar for two, just in case, and handed them over.

The shocked look on his face when I had come back downstairs with a box full of roughly thirty blades was enough to tell me how bad my addiction with harming myself was.

Some were so ruined and stained with blood that they had gone blunt, and others were sharp as anything, despite my heavy use out of them.

I had kept two that were unused; sharp.

I needed up a backup plan just in case that everything went to shit, I couldn't let go of everything entirely, not yet, probably not ever.

Gerard had told me that he was proud of me, and had embraced me.

I couldn't help but start to feel slightly guilty as he told me.

I had initially planned to give him everything, all of them.

But when I had walked upstairs, opened my bedroom door and rooted around in my little black suitcase, stashed under my bed, still filled with a series of objects that I had neglected to unpack; purely as an alibi for going through my suitcase for my blades.