In Death We Shall Cry For You

Those Skeletal Bones We See Darlin'

(I'm just gonna put a trigger warning right here)

Gerard had just got home from a tricky Tuesday; his English teacher had set way too much homework, and he had to read the book again? Like really?

He just felt so sick to the stomach, like nothing was right. He was anxious about something, but what was there? Absolutely nothing. Currently he had no major assignments due in that week, he had a no homework day as he'd done it at the weekend, so he was gonna have a 'personal evening' and relax.

But it happened when he got home.

His mother.

Already on her first bottle of wine of the night.

Fuck.

His mother's drinking was a real big problem - his fifteenth birthday was ruined because of her. He'd managed to get his grandmother up for once, and it was going amazingly well, until his mother drunk way too much and started screaming at him. He broke down in tears and his Nan had to deal with yelling at her daughter, ashamed, and worried for her grandson.

Gerard ran upstairs, jogging himself from the horrid memory, and threw his bag in the corner of the room. He dropped to the ground, head in hands, crying.

He felt broken. His head was fucking with him, making him so panicked and sick to the stomach - he had to freaking leave his lesson to spend an hour in the nurse's office to try and stop it. It didn't really go, but it calmed down a smidgen.

His arms were littered with cuts and scars, and so were his upper thighs. He'd discovered that his thighs were a good place to cut a few months ago when he had Gym and couldn't cut on his arms, and so cut his thigh instead. Look where it had gotten him now; cut up legs with scars, old and new.

He really did hate himself.

Food was a struggle. How could he stomach edible death? What was the point? He knew he was going to die soon anyways, might as well not eat - there'd be less body mass to get rid off, wouldn't there?

Gerard sobbed loudly, his chest pounding and aching. He crawled forwards to his bedside table and pulled out the small box he kept his blade in. Taking it out with trembling fingers, he held it to the pale skin of his thigh. His breath shook as he dragged it down, deep and long, and whimpered softly. He was used to the pain. It surrounded him.

Ten minutes later his legs were smeared with his blood, and his nostrils flared with the copper tang. He felt leaden, eyelids drooping, yawns sneaking past closed lips. He forced himself to put away the blade and pull up his trousers before climbing into his bed and drifting off to sleep.

----

Gerard woke up three hours later to the sound of the front door slamming shut. He knew it was his mother, no one else lived here.

He pushed himself out of bed and went downstairs to get something to drink, scratching the back of his messy black hair and yawning as he did so. Once he got to the fridge, hr remembered there was nothing there this morning, no juice or squash or milk, and got a glass of water instead.

Gerard went back to his room, the small space trapped by four walls, and dropped back down onto his bed. He sat there quietly thinking things through, and before he really knew what he was actually doing, he was heading to the bathroom and towards the medicine cabinet.

He dragged out the remaining ten ibuprofen pills, the loose thirteen paracetamol, and he found a very old looking packet of some painkillers with a name he couldn't pronounce. Altogether he knew he had enough pills to actually do it.

They hurt going down, and his stomach felt bloated. He felt worse than before, tears were streaming down his face for no reason, and he slid down the back of the bathroom door with his pulse in his ears.

He was so numb, life was so numb, and now his heart was numb.

----

It wasn't until two days later that Gerard was found, dead, on the bathroom floor. He wasn't found by any family, but by a policeman who was called to see if the boy was there as he hadn't gone to school and no one had heard from his mother.

But Gerard Way was dead, and his mother nowhere to be found.