Never let them take you alive // Adopted by Frerard

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My lips part as a final grunt escapes my lips. He pulls out, and releases onto my stomach. He puts his pants on, and slams the door on the way out. I let the tears I was holding in out, and I sob into my pillow. My whole body feels so sore, my stomach in a knot, I attempt to get up. My legs wobble to my mirror. I wont be able to walk or sit for some time. God, was he rough. I wipe my tears and study my body. Its slowly becoming red where he hit me. A dark handprint forming on my ass and thighs, slowly trailing up to my back. I gather my things to prepare myself for a shower.

I muster my clothes and run the shower. I hop in, due to me already being naked. The cold water stings my back. Oh, you have some questions? Well, my name is Ry. Short for Rainn. I'm a 13 year old anorexic/bulimic/biploar/anxiety-enduced/depression-enduced/gay/probably-schizophrenic(¿) emo. My gender identity right now is unknown, but I just have everyone stamp me as female. What just happened back there? I got raped by 'the jock'. Well, he isn't exactly the friendliest. Oh, what is he doing in my room? I live in an orphanage. And my room doesnt have locks.

I have grey eyes, and black hair. My hair creates an ombre effect, so my hair is black, but my tips are red. And my skin is concerningly pale. Mhm. Fuckin' hideous, I know. But enough about me, I have to finish my shower. I reach for the apple shampoo and the coconut conditioner. I need to use shampoo and conditioner everyday because I'm not provided with soap, and I gotta smell presentable somehow. My job pays minimum wage, so that also sucks. I usually use my pay for food, and very occasionally, clothes. I work at a small drug store, meaning not many people buy from it. I'm pretty sure it has a methlab in the basement. I run my fingers through my long hair. Jesus fuck I need to cut it.

I exit the bathroom and dry up. I put on my selected clothes. A Panic! At The Disco shirt, an 'I survived the black parade' sweatshirt, some ripped jeans, and my converse. I do my makeup, frantically attempting to cover the dark rings under my eyes. I get my scissors and cut my hair shoulder length. I then take my razor and buzz the side of my hair, leaving a ball of floof on top. I don't have time to redye- and yes, I cut and dye my hair myself. I comb my hair and go downstairs. It's 5 am, so I have plenty of time. I'm on breakfast duty, so I make a fat serving of pancakes. Enough so everybody can get 2. And there are quite a few people here. 30 in total. That's 60 pancakes. Minus me, of course. I don't eat.

I get the syrup out and go back upstairs. 5:40 am. Everyone gets up at 6:30. They eat. They get adopted. And yes, it is adoption day. 7:00 rolls around fairly quick. Everyone is getting ready to go to the lobby. People are pouring in to adopt. I, for one, do not. It's not like I'm gonna get adopted. I mean, I can dream. I grab my phone and put my headphones in. I open my window and jump out. Yes, ever so casually. I land in a bush, and get up to brush myself off. I walk to the nearest park and seat myself on a bench. I blare some music for an hour, mindlessly tapping my feet. It starts getting dark, and clouds start to form. The drizzle in the mist contacts my sweatshirt. I put my hood up. A few more mintues wont hurt. Another long 30 mintues pass by, the rain is heavy. It pierces onto my skin, just to dribble off. My sweatshirt is now soaking. I sigh and close my eyes. A mintue of me humming to my playlist. A thick fog appears. The nearest park was sorta far, so it was an adventure getting here, and I wont be able to go back when the fog is making my vision blurry.

I get up and begin my walk home. This wont take longer than 15 mintues, considering my speed walking. I hum some songs to myself, and before I know it, I'm here. I take a deep breath and head for the doors- to be met with not doors? I stumble back as my body contacts something- someONE- not 5 centimeters taller than me. I land on my ass, the cold and wet pavemet soaking my jeans. I hear a laugh and look up. A figure with black hair and greenish-hazel eyes. Perfect facial features, and the widest smile I've ever seen. I escape my trance, only to realize right before my eyes were THE Gerard Arthur Way. I quietly gasp, which only puts him in a louder fit of laughter. He lets out a final chuckle and squats down to my height- me still being on the pavement. He lets out a hand.

"Gerard" he says "Awesome sweatshirt, kid" he says, referring to my MCR sweatshirt. I let out a hand to shake his. With a soft smile, I say "Ry". He gets up and helps me do the same.
"Ry Dallas I presume? You owe me an interview" He states. I contain my happiness, to be left with the question floating around my head. Me? ME? WHY M E?????

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uwuwuwu first fanfic uwuwuwu sorry its so shitty

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     -mark/marie