From the Ashes, You Crawl

Chapter Four: Flashback

It was ages ago. How long Gerard was unsure. He could remember it though, just like it had happened a month ago, a week, an hour. The man can remember every aspect. The color of his skin, what it felt like, what it smelled like, where he was, what he was doing.

Everything.

Gerard Way stood at his windows. The day was Sunday, April 13th, the only day of the week he had off from his laborous job in the butcher's shop. He used Sundays to clean, to scrub every surface of his tiny apartment. He felt like it was his duty, his job, to make sure every think was germ free. Every single Sunday, Gerard would wake at five AM and start his all day cleaning spree.

Now, it was 11:43 AM, and Gerard was standing at the windows. The white, latex gloves were pulled up over his hands. He remembered how he had to take the off and put them on thirteen times this morning because each individual time didn't feel good enough. His hands were nearly peeling even beneath the thin layer of rubber. Where the ends of the gloves were, his skin was red and raw from being introduced to so many chemicals in the past six hours. Gerard's hands scrubbed on the insides of the windows, the gray, wet cloth he had was frantically rubbing away at the pane. His eyes were wide as he fought with the grime and dust.

There was a noise around him.

The noise was constant, never pausing, never ending. It hadn't started long ago, but it had been going on long enough that it was beginning to bother him. It was high-pitched. It hurt his head. It felt like there were bees frantically spreeing in his brain.

Gerard knew what it was, but he wouldn't allow himself to think about it. No. He couldn't.

The sound that was constantly besieging his brain was the ring of an air-raid alarm.

On the inside, Gerard was panicking. He had to get to shelter. He had to get away from the window, but he couldn't. He couldn't tear himself away from the glass. He couldn't part with his schedule, There was still so much that needed to be done, So many chores. So much that needed to be cleaned, swept, dusted, folded, shined, moved, moved again, scrubbed.

He couldn't stop now.

"Perhaps," Gerard told himself mentally, "It is only a drill. Yes, yes, a drill, yes." Everything around him told him otherwise, however. On the street below, people ran frantically. There was the screech of car brakes, and the strident sounds of screaming and yelling. Something inside Gerard told him that there was no way, no Earthly way, that this could be a drill.

But he had to convince himself it was so he wouldn't break the schedule.

It was 11:45 AM, and Gerard was done washing the windows. He held the cloth in his hands as he stripped the latex gloves off. The cloth was still wet with a mixture of water and cleaning products. The feeling made him almost want to panic. He hated how it was wet.

Gerard was watching out of the freshly cleaned windows when it happened.

There was a flash.

It was brighter than the sun, brighter than anything the man had ever seen. Gerard thought for a moment that somebody was taking a picture. Then, as soon as it had happened, it was over, and Gerard was flung across the room as a sonic boom shook the whole city. The man landed in a pile on the sofa, shattered glass laying around him. His last thought before he blacked out was of how his hard work was demolished around his body.


-


His ears were ringing.

That was the only noise though. Everything else was dead silent.

Dead.

Gerard still lay on the couch, on his stomach, face in the cushion, and his head was rocketed with the most splitting headache he had ever encountered. The cloth was still in his hand, he noticed, but it was dry. It was as dry as dirt. The cloth slipped from Gerard's hand as he raised his palms and pressed them over his ears with a soft cry. He wanted the noise to stop. He wanted the ringing to stop.

After several seconds of rubbing, Gerard rolled onto his back, eyes wide as he stared straight ahead. It took a moment for his eyes to focus because of the dramatic flash that had blinded him some time ago.When they did, he was aware if the smoke in the air, and the fact the whole house smelled like burning flesh. It seemed like the walls were even singed. Gerard looked around the room, still stunned. It felt like he had a sunburn all over his skin. His eyes found his paintings on the walls, the few that were still around since his dramatic move from his home a few years ago. The corners were black and beginning to disintegrate, smoke whispering off of the ends into the already hazy air.