The Dainessetchen Barnacle Tales

Season 1 Episode 4

Gretchen's Point of View

Well, as you could probably guess, we did end up dying Lainey's hair. We had decided on a bright red, but not like Gerard's. Then we did orange ends, kinda like fire. AND IT WAS FUCKING AWESOME.

The three of us kind of stood in front of the mirror, touching our hair, looking for missed spots. Gerard knocked on the door and I turned to open it, but he had already barged in.

"WELL, excuse you!" I yelled at him. Then, I noticed he was crying really hard. My heart fell to my stomach as he held out his arms for a hug. I gladly gave him one.

"Gerard, what happened?" Jesse asked as he joined our hug. It was awhile before my brother could answer.

"Dylan said he can't be with me," he said, trying to choke back tears. I had never seen him this upset over anyone before. I couldn't help but think about when I had found out about Peter.

It wasn't like we were expecting Peter to die any time soon. You know, we didn't think he had cancer or something. His death came as a complete and awful surprise. And the worst part about it was that I had watched the entire thing. I had witnessed the love of my life take his last breath.

It had been an average day for us two. We were just lying around at his house, cuddling, eating Nutella and Doritos, and watching old black and white movies. I remember exactly what we were wearing, exactly what he smelled like, the exact place on my cheek he had kissed, and everything else that had been happening in the five minutes before the accident.

The back door had slammed shut, making us both jump.

"Gretchen, go upstairs...now," Peter had commanded.

"What's wrong?" I whispered. Peter pushed me toward the stairs. "It's probably just your mom or dad."

"That's the problem." I could tell by the tone he was using that he was being serious and I turned to go up the stairs. Before I could put my foot on one step, I heard someone clear their throat. I turned back around.

"What do ya think yur durn, ya damn bass turd." (I am writing it how he had slurred it.)

"Dad," Peter had said in a calm manner. "Please go back outside. You aren't sober. You know what the doctor said about alcohol." Peter's dad huffed.

"Don't need no mutherfackin doc ta tell meh wut ter do." I watched as Peter slowly made his way toward his dad, like he was some kind of animal.

"Please come with me, Dad. We can go on a drive and talk about this." Peter put his hand on his Dad's arm and started to coax him out of the living room. But, in a split second, Peter's dad had swung his arm around and had Peter in a headlock and used his fist to pummel his son in the head. I screamed when I saw blood and I tried to think of something to do, but I didn't know. Peter managed to wrestle away from his attacker, but only weakly maintained his freedom for a short while.

"I don't need no halp," the drunken man said as he wrapped his arm around Peter's neck and started to squeeze. Peter coughed and clawed at his father's arm, but his face began to lose color. In a fit of rage and terror, I lunged at the huge man and effortlessly beat him with my fists. He mumbled a word under his breath and kicked me in the chest, sending me down to the floor. I was soon joined by the lifeless body of my boyfriend. I listened to his dad shuffle out of the room, like nothing had happened.

I reached for Peter's hand when I had gotten some of my strength back, but I cried out and cowered back into my first position when an excruciating pain screamed up my chest and neck. Carefully undoing my shirt, I slipped it off and gasped at the purple and green bruise that was beginning to appear. I assumed the kick and fall had resulted in a broken rib or two. But I lost concern for myself when I heard my boyfriend groan. Forgetting what pain was, I forced myself to crawl over to him.