We're All Bloody Misfits

CHAPTER ONE-  

GERARD'S POV-

The year is 2010. I was born on April 9th 1994 in Summit, New Jersey. I know Jersey gets a lot of shit for being a place full of crime and unfortunate happenings. Some of the people used to joke that most of the crap that went on over there started when I was born- I don't care. If all they're going to is hit me with words, they can't expect to do much damage. I'd like to think that someone back there would miss me but we all know, even you, who have just started learning about me, that it's extremely doubtful. I actually have a perfectly fine family, a mother who's fine, a father who works so much that I actually never see him and a brother who's absolutely fine to me, yet despite this, none of it pleases me. Saying that, I seem like an ungrateful son of a bitch and on some levels that may very well be true. I pass the days and nights by listening to The Misfits barely emerging from my bedroom- my sanctuary. I know they all get worried about me, but I frankly don't see why. I'm not worth worrying about. No one cared for me back in Jersey; I don't see why people would start now. Occasionally Mikey tries to tempt me out by saying he'll lend me some of his Misfits CD's if I come and have dinner with the family downstairs for a change- silly Mikey. He never learns that it always ends in bitter failure. We're starting our new school in the morning. At the moment everyone is asleep, except for me and my thoughts. I just had everything swirling around in my brain- just memories of beatings (from pricks at my old school) and whether I will actually come home one day without a black eye. I doubt Mikey will have trouble; he never really did at our old school. There would be the infrequent 'dickhead!' and a tripping once in a while but other than his word and me seeing it occurring, there are no wounds to show for it. I lay in my new bed in my new house feeling unbelievably apprehensive about the week that was awaiting me... Cold. I pulled up the sheet and duvets and twisted and turned in the dark to get comfortable.... still cold. Maybe it was just the warmth of my confidence draining from my body, yes, probably- not that I had any beforehand. I knew Mikey was probably in his bedroom, worrying about me or worrying about himself... or maybe he was asleep. That was almost certainly it- I'm not worth worrying about anyway. I'm sure he won't be a target for arseholes as much as I will, but you never know. I hate feeling like this. The uncertainty just gets to me, the more it gets to me, the more I think and the more I think, the longer it'll take me to fall asleep. It's a vicious cycle. My brain wouldn't turn off, it just kept replaying these thoughts that made my heart pound and my body shudder. I just got colder and colder. So cold, in fact, that I swear I was able to make out the shape of my exhaled breath even in the darkness. I couldn't take it anymore... I kicked off the covers and swung my legs to the side so they were dangling off my bed. I felt the fluff of my carpet tickle between my toes. I stood up and walked to my suitcase, attempting to unzip it without making a sound. There, in front of me was all my crap but I didn't give a shit about that. On the inside of the lid of the suitcase was a zipped pocket and again, undoing it, I felt a feeling slight power and guilt. Inside, laid a razor. I'm a troubled being. I grasped it tight in my hand and went over to the window of my bedroom. I stood at the window. The bitter air seeped through the opened window and the cracks in the frame. Looking outside, the darkness covered the area. The place was dead and silent. It was freezing. No stars were visible. I looked at my digital clock, '00:51' it smugly glowed with a dim light. Street lamps were on and cars did drive by, all were asleep except for me. I took the razor and plunged it through my wrist. Not a deep cut, just one to make me feel calm with the world again. The blood dripping on the white glossed paint of the windowsill and trickled down to my elbow. I took a deep breath and was relaxed once again. I tucked the razor back in the pocket of my suitcase, as if I were tucking it into bed. I clambered back under the sheets and my eyes closed slowly... I was finally drifting off. The last thing I saw in my mind was a hospital... I wonder why...