Finding a Way | Adopted by Gerard Way

Plastic Waiting Room Chairs

*trigger warning ⚠️*

Gerard's POV

The image of her unconscious body on the floor and the pills that scattered around it is painfully vivid every time I close my eyes. For the first time I noticed how truly unwell she looked: How drained of all colour her skin was, how hollow her cheeks had become, and how sunken her eyes seemed to be in the artificial light of the bathroom.

How she was just the skeleton of a girl I'd met during the summer.

I thought I could handle myself in stressful situations with at least some dignity, but the way I sank to my knees when I saw her is embarrassing. The way I grabbed her cold hand through my tears, already bracing myself for the worst. The way I couldn't even dial 911 myself. I had my brother do it, who had previously been standing in the doorway in shock.

And the ride in the back of the ambulance was the longest few minutes of my life.

This was never supposed to happen. I was supposed to help this girl, have a happy life with her, protect her. I want to throw this stupid plastic waiting room chair across the room, but instead I sit with my elbows resting on my knees, my face buried in my hands.

I feel Mikey's hand on my shoulder and it takes an incredible amount of self control not to swat it off. "Gee..." he says.

"What?" My words are muffled.

"Should we call Frank and Ray?"

"I don't know."

Just like that, we fall back into the deafening silence of the waiting room, empty other than Mikey and I as it's somewhere around 3, nearing 4AM. The only sound that can be heard is the bustling of nurses and doctors in the hallways. And, if you listen very closely, the distant beeping and whirring of machines.

The passing of time always seems distorted in such places. Deserted parking lots, highways in the middle of nowhere, empty swimming pools, hospital waiting rooms at night... All places that make you feel slightly uneasy and out of place, like you're just not supposed to be there. The hour we've spent sitting here could easily have been days.

Realization hits me when I finally look up from the palms of my hands to see the cheap decorations adorning the room. "Mikes, did I even ask her what she wants for Christmas?"

He doesn't get to answer, though, because a woman's voice pipes up from the entrance. "Mr. Way?"

I hop up out of my seat and practically run toward her, Mikey only two steps behind me. "Can I see her? Can I see Eve now?" I ask, basically begging to see my daughter. It was crushing when we first arrived and I was told that I couldn't stay with her after she was taken out of the ambulance. I've never been more eager to see anyone than I am now.

"Yes, Mr. Way, she's awake. We're just trying to get her to eat something." At the blank expression on my face, she goes on. "She didn't ingest any pills, but she collapsed due to dangerously low blood pressure. Her body is in a state of starvation, she seems to have been depriving herself of food for a while now."

"What? No, no she—" I shake my head in disbelief, covering my mouth with one hand.

"She'll have to see a psychologist for an official diagnosis, but I don't hesitate in saying that Evelyn has an eating disorder." Her voice is laced with a practiced sympathy only someone used to delivering bad news could muster.

"Just tell me what room she's in," I say.

Mikey and I are lead down a hallway past other rooms. I try not to pay attention to the crying that can be heard coming from some of them. The doctor stops outside a door and gives my brother a questioning look before he awkwardly says, "I'm her uncle." Then she steps aside to let us both in.