~I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE LYRICS USED IN THIS STORY, ALL RIGHTS OF GERARD, FRANK RAY AND MIKEY GO TO... WELL, GERARD, FRANK RAY AND MIKEY~
This story is meant to be set during Revenge era.
“L'inseguimento”
My life is my own fate. As i tried to pace myself down the dark, misty road, i couldn't help myself but stop. I leaned on my knees, hiding behind a transit van, in a pathetic attempt to catch my breath. This is such a harsh reality. If life isn't just a joke, then why are we laughing? Still, while i could die any second, i let out a hysterical and slightly psychotic laugh. No wonder everyone thinks I’m a freak. Ha. I'm freaking messed up.
As soon as i caught my breath, i continued running, getting into fits of giggles now and then.
As I practically ran for my life, it made me think; a lot.
Just, growing up here in Belleville.. Even frank said, NJ's basically New York's retarded brother that’s been kept locked up in a basement. Ah jeez I lo-.. He's great.
But how when I was a kid, NJ would even in a local park, where kids were supposed to play in, would have dead bodies found in the rivers constantly. I think that’s one of the reasons I've spent my time inside so much. I got locked away from it all, along with Mikey, for our own safety. And now i haven't seemed to grow out of that imprisonment, so i stay in my dark room nearly all day.
To think i could be one of those next dead bodies found in the cold river.. Just like in the movies. What a cliché.
I started to get a chill down my spine. I could feel the temperature dropping. It's dark. I have no idea as to where i am. Just that I’m in a dark, dingy city with flickering street lamps. Oh how i love dirty Jersey.
The bottoms of my tatty jeans and sneakers were becoming damp from running through so many puddles and all the sewage water flooding over.
i put my hands in the pockets of my misfits hoodie, still running for my life.
Oh God.
Gun shots and cop sirens. I don't understand any of this. Kinda like those pointless horror movies with a pointless storyline, that make you think what the fuck was the point in any of that?
I finally came to a lit, almost civilized building. "The Hotel Bella Muerté". Sounds classy. 'Hotel bella muerté - 1894' i read on the plaque outside the towering, mossy building, with an almost dead ivory plant clinging on to it for dear life.
Oh my. Shit decor. Flickering lights, just like the ones outside. At least there's a smell of old books... And old things in general.
I walked up to the front, mahogany desk with a black lace cover over it. There was a woman stood there with jet black hair, wearing a black dress with satin red material tinting it throughout. I looked at her name tag. Helena.
She looked me up and down, seemingly disapproving of me and the state I'm in. Considering i just ran through the pouring rain and i'm soaked throughout, head to toe, she could at least cut me some slack.
"Welcome to the hotel Bella Muerté..." she said in a raspy, ghostly tone.
I'm going to fucking regret this.
