The Glass of Fashion - The Black Parade

Salvo · 05-04-2008, 12:18 AM

The Glass of Fashion

Rating: 15+
Main Characters: Gerard/OFC
Summary: After learning about the basic morals one should live by, Gerard is shocked that the one he trusted most has taken advantage of him for years. He seeks help and gets away from the dysfunctional situation only to be thrust into another one, and he’s not sure if he’ll survive it this time.
Disclaimer: This is completely fictional. The following events have never taken place. This is merely a result of my twisted imagination.

Chapter Index:
Part I
Prologue...Page 1
Chapter 1...Page 1
Chapter 2...Page 2
Chapter 3...Page 3
Chapter 4...Page 3
Chapter 5...Page 4
Chapter 6...Page 4
Chapter 7...Page 5
Chapter 8...Page 6
Chapter 9...Page 7
Chapter 10...Page 8
Chapter 11...Page 9
Chapter 12...Page 11
Chapter 13...Page 13
Chapter 14...Page 14
Chapter 15...Page 15
Chapter 16...Page 16
Chapter 17...Page 17
Chapter 18...Page 18
Chapter 19...Page 19
Chapter 20...Page 21
Chapter 21...Page 22

Part II
Chapter 1...Page 23
Chapter 2...Page 25
Chapter 3...Page 26
Chapter 4...Page 28
Chapter 5...Page 29
Chapter 6...Page 30
Chapter 7...Page 31
Chapter 8...Page 32
Chapter 9...Page 33
Chapter 10...Page 34
Chapter 11...Page 35
Chapter 12...Page 36
Chapter 13...Page 37
Chapter 14...Page 38
Chapter 15...Page 39
Chapter 16...Page 40
Chapter 17...Page 41
Chapter 18...Page 42
Chapter 19...Page 43
Epilogue...Page 44

Prologue

My bedroom door opened and my mom, one of the very few people I trust, walked in cautiously. Her eyes were on me the whole time as she made her way closer to my bed. She eyed me hungrily. I opened my mouth to question her, but she spoke before I had a chance to.

“Do you love me, my beautiful son?” she whispered. I grew tense. Trying to calm myself down, I told myself that whatever she was planning on doing that night was for the best. I completely trusted her. She’d never done anything to make me think otherwise.

“Yes. I do, Ma.” I told her. She grinned.

“I love you too, honey. Very much. I want to show you how much I love you.” I was very confused. Show me, how? Show me at 2 o’ clock in the morning?

“But you can’t tell anyone about this,” she continued. “because they wouldn’t understand. They would take me away from you. The bad people.” I grew very panicked at the very prospect of being separated from my mother.

“B-but why?” I whimpered. “Why would the bad people take you away?”

“Because they would be jealous of the love we have for each other.” she stepped closer. “Most people are very lonely and miserable.” Step. “And as I’ve told you before, misery loves company.” Step. “So they make other people miserable so that they don’t feel so alone anymore.” Step. Nothing she was saying was making any sense to me. But I trusted her, so I decided not to question. Her face was hovering over mine now.

“And that, my lovely Gerard, is why this must be kept a secret between only us.” I felt special. A secret between my mommy and I. I wouldn’t have to share this secret with Dad or Mikey. Mikey was Daddy’s boy. I didn’t spend much time with my father. Being just an infant, Mikey was unable to do anything himself. Mom was always paying attention to me. So Mikey had Dad, and I had Mom. It was something only Mom and I shared, this secret. Mom trusted me, and it felt great to be trusted by the person I respected most in the world.

She ran her fingers through my hair and across my cheek and sighed contentedly. I shivered. Her fingers were cold. She slipped in bed with me, and I waited for her to show how much she loved me. I didn’t know of the evils in the world at 4 years old. No 4-year old should know. But my mother introduced it to me early.

That was the first night my mother defiled me.

From then on I was corrupted, ruined, and undesirable to anyone except my mother. She told me what a good boy I was for keeping our special secret and often times, during her visits at night, she would tell me what a handsome boy I was, which made me feel good because no one else ever said nice things about me. I was uncomfortable with what she did to me at night and it made me feel awkward. I squirmed under her cold fingers every night and didn’t complain. She was the only one who loved me.

So I faithfully kept our little secret.

I avoided people as much as possible. I didn’t deserve friends. I was tainted, unclean. Unworthy. I had no friends. I put a wall between me and the rest of the world.

One day in fourth grade, while I was doodling in my notebook, the counselor came in the classroom and taught us about good touch and bad touch. I remember being very confused. I thought that every touch was good unless you were being physically hurt. So when the counselor explained that if anyone touches you in a way that makes you feel uncomfortable, I almost started crying right then. My heart was shattered. At that moment, I realized that my mom had been lying to me. She used me.

When kids would pick on me at school or I got yelled at by the teacher for drawing and not paying attention, I’d think: Well, at least Mom loves me. When I go home, after the uncomfortable part is over, I know I’ll be safe. That last piece of hope was gone. I was outraged. I had been taken advantage of, and I wanted to get away from my mom, the enemy.

I went to the counselor after school and told her everything. I told her I wanted my mom to get in trouble because she lied to me. I was assured that her nightly visits would immediately cease. They took Mom away to a correctional facility. Dad was very shocked and blamed everything on himself. He drank until he passed out almost every night. “If only I had paid more attention…the signs were there…” he would moan drunkenly as I tried to sleep.

I would occasionally ask Mikey if Mom did the same thing to him as she did to me. He’d always say no, and tell me that he was “Daddy’s boy” and I was “Mommy’s boy.” I felt sick every time he said that.

Mommy’s boy…I wasn’t Mommy’s boy anymore! I ended it. I don’t get anymore nightly visits. I should be able to relax now. She wasn’t coming back. I knew that. Yet I still couldn’t sleep at night.

Dad stopped coming into work. He would usually pass out sometime in the middle of the night and sleep throughout the day. He got fired. He was a pediatric doctor and made excellent money, but he threw it all away. With no money coming in, our food supply was dwindling to nothing. Mikey and I began eating every other day, to make what we had last longer. We ate what we could during lunch at school. Teachers started noticing that we were getting very thin, in a sickly way, and how much we ate at school, like there was no tomorrow.

I had gotten called to the counselor’s office because a few teachers had been voicing their concerns, but I assured her that everything was okay at home. I knew what would happen if she knew my dad was a neglectful drunk. Mikey and I would be sent to a foster home. Somehow I felt like living in a foster home would be worse than living at my real home. If you could call it that. I hated change. I was content with living this way, because I was desensitized to everything. I was numb.

Apparently Mikey wasn’t. He told her about our current living conditions, leaving nothing out. I refused to speak to him after that. I was angry, the first emotion I’d shown in a long time. They did in fact, make us go to a foster home. My dad pleaded with them to not take us away, that he would find a job and support us, but they kept assuring him that this was best for us.

Mikey was the social butterfly at the foster home. He made friends with everyone. I, on the other hand, was always the kid sitting in the corner alone. That was because I was rude to anyone who tried to talk to me. I was a bitter little fuck and I made no attempt to hide it. Besides, I reasoned with myself, if I had no friends, there was no chance of anyone hurting me. People don’t just like you for you. Most people who give you the time of day just want something. They want to take advantage. My mother taught me that.

Mikey was happy living at the foster home, and it showed. He was the most charming, adorable kid there. He could even make his lisp sound cute. Unsurprisingly, he got adopted very quickly after arriving by a middle-aged couple. He threw a fit, saying that he wanted them to adopt me, too, but they insisted that they only wanted one child. The years went by, and I knew all hope of being adopted was gone. I was getting too old. Parents wanted cute little kids that they could raise to be wonderful additions to society. I was always depressed and quiet. I became the oldest kid there. No one wanted me, and even though I was expecting it, it still hurt. I thought about death almost constantly. I thought about how different ways to commit suicide, which weren’t a lot, since I didn’t have access to anything that could cause me physical harm. I just wanted to escape. I couldn’t even be granted that.

I’ve learned that the majority of life is misery with a small amount of happiness mixed in, just enough to get most people by. Those who aren’t strong enough to handle it, or don’t quite know what to do with their rare amount happiness are the ones who give up on life. Some people are just unfortunate enough to not get their share of happiness, and they may choose to make an early escape from this hell. They never had a chance.

Now, if you can be perfectly content with yourself and being completely alone, you may make it. That doesn’t mean your life will be easy. Everyone is born cold and afraid, and everyone will die cold and afraid, regardless of how comfortable your life was. But if you can die knowing that you have no one special that you’re leaving behind, no regrets, or no fears, that would nearly be ideal. That is why it’s best to live in solitude, never going in public, never accomplishing or doing anything. That way you won’t get attached to someone, therefore, you probably won’t have any regrets. There will be no one you regret leaving behind, and there will be no one to leave you. But fear is an entirely different thing. That’s why no death is ideal. There’s always fear. That’s why I couldn’t bring myself to end my suffering. I was a coward.

--

Please tell me what you honestly thought. If you have any suggestions for me, please say so. I want to improve.

*katelyn* · 05-04-2008, 12:33 AM

okay this is officially amazing. seriously

VivreChem · 05-04-2008, 01:43 AM

Dear god above. This is so amazing. Ah! Update asap! :D

RachelS · 05-04-2008, 03:41 AM

Wow, I adore this so far.

It's very different to anything else I've read.

Simply amazing

Julia · 05-04-2008, 11:39 AM

Very different, I like it

xo.

**Angila** · 05-04-2008, 02:04 PM

Wow. This is one of a kind. Talk about heart-ache. I can't wait for more!

Issabbella · 05-04-2008, 02:45 PM

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOW does that sum it up? that was amazzzzzing

Kayla?! · 05-04-2008, 04:39 PM

This is simply amazing.

Salvo · 05-04-2008, 06:40 PM

Thank you to everyone who commented. It really inspires me to put forth as much effort as I possibly can. =)

One

~Present time. Gerard is 16 years old.~

I shot up in bed, gasping for air and clutching my chest. I had the nightmare again. Every night, around 2 o’ clock in the morning, I would have the nightmare. I had an irrational fear that she would creep back into my room at 2 a.m., right on time. I would relive her visits every single night in my nightmares.

How someone functions on 3 or 4 hours of sleep each night, I don’t know. But I manage to do it. I prefer to be awake, anyway. It’s when I’m asleep that my subconscious recreates the unpleasant events of my childhood.

Adrenaline was running through my body because of the nightmare and I didn’t want to go back to sleep. I didn’t want to return to my past. I got up and got dressed, even though it was ridiculously early. My tutor sessions started at 8:00. Most kids got educated normally. I didn’t. I insisted that I couldn’t be around so many people. I had a severe social phobia. I’m not sure when it developed. I would get anxiety attacks if I was around too many people. They were kind enough to get me a tutor. I excelled well beyond my grade level because I didn’t have the distraction of a real life. I constantly studied, and when there was nothing to study, I read. I needed distractions. I didn’t like remembering. I welcome distractions.

I stared at the ceiling texture for six hours, trying to find shapes or objects. I didn’t find any. I had already read all the books I owned multiple times to the point of almost memorizing them, so there was nothing else to do. I was so engrossed with my current activity of ceiling-staring, that I didn’t notice Mr. Galway, my tutor, come in. He set my homework in front of me without a word, and I expertly worked at it without any difficulties. I was done before long, and Mr. Galway looked at me apologetically. He had nothing else to teach me.

That was as interesting as my day ever got. I stayed in my room for the majority of the time. Someone would come in three times a day and give me my meals, since I refused to eat with the others. I rarely did eat. I was never hungry. I forced myself to eat, though. They had threatened to take me to psychiatric hospital for eating disorders if I didn’t.

Someone knocked on my door. I didn’t get up to answer it, nor did I tell them that it was okay to come in. I never spoke. It’s just another way for me to detach from people. Another way for me to avoid companionship of any kind.

Whoever was on the other side of the door entered anyway. I darted to the corner of the room when I saw that it was a female. Females are shallow, conniving beings who will stop at nothing to get what they want. That is everyone’s ulterior motive, but females especially. They are particularly selfish. I glared at her as fiercely as I could, my way of warning her to stay away. I covered my fear and anxiety with anger.

“A c-couple just came here wanting to adopt…I-I was sent to get you…” she stuttered. Apparently she had sufficiently delivered her message, because she darted back outside, not even bothering to close the door.

I grudgingly stood up and walked outside, only because I was obligated to. I knew that I was never going to get adopted. Everyone knew that. It was too late. I didn’t understand why they still made me make myself known to everyone wanting to adopt.

I saw that there were two men. I assumed that they were a homosexual couple that desired to have kids, but couldn’t, for obvious reasons. They both looked very young, maybe early to mid-twenties. One of them was very tall with light blond hair, a friendly smile on his face as he observed the children. The other had angular features, a frown prominent on his face. He looked miserable and when the children merely glanced at him, they shied away. What an odd couple. There couldn’t be any two people less compatible. After I was done observing, I leaned against the wall in the far corner of the room and fixed my gaze on the floor. I was as far away from everyone as the room would allow me.

I was so sick of this. So sick of life. Everyday is so bleak and monotonous. As soon as I get out of here, I’m ending it. Just two more years, I chanted in my head. Two more years…

“Young man?” The masculine voice came from my left. Was someone speaking to me? No one was near me when I last checked. Who else could they be talking to? I cautiously lifted my head and looked to where I thought the source of the voice was. The couple stood there. It was the happy blond guy who spoke. He was grinning for a spilt second, but when he saw my face, he frowned and the euphoric look turned to a concerned one. Probably due to my unusually pale skin, bony, unhealthy appearance, and the dark circles under my eyes from many sleepless nights. I edged away from them slightly and tried to calm myself. They were too close.

“Uh…I’m Stephen, and this,” he pointed to the miserable guy. “is Finn.” My eyes darted between the two nervously. Finn raised a dark brown eyebrow at me because of my strange behavior.

“What’s your name?” Stephen asked. Gerard, I said in my mind. I couldn’t speak. I hadn’t spoken since I’d arrived here. I couldn’t let them know me. A man, who I assumed worked here, decided to intrude. I was feeling increasingly anxious and trapped.

“I’m sorry for his behavior.” he apologized. “He doesn’t speak. We’re not sure why. It’s not like he’s ever told us.” There was an edge of annoyance in his tone.

“What is his name?” Finn spoke for the first time.

“Gerard.” the man answered. “He’s been here since he was eight years old.” Stephen looked at my with pure sympathy in his eyes. I glared at him. I didn’t need anyone’s sympathy. He looked hurt at my reaction. I felt no remorse.

“Why did he get put here in the first place?” Stephen asked. The man sighed.

“His little brother alerted an adult that they were being neglected by their alcoholic father. His mother wasn’t there…we’re not sure where or who she is. Gerard, of course, has never told us. His brother seemed perfectly fine. He was adopted the very week he arrived. We’re not sure why Gerard is so introverted.” The man rolled his eyes. I was angry that they were talking about me like I wasn’t even there.

“Sir, I would like to speak with my boyfriend in private for a few moments.” Stephen announced shamelessly. I admired him for being so open and honest. Finn cringed as if he was ashamed. The man just gave him a bitter look and walked off. Finn and Stephen walked a few feet away from me and were discussing something in harsh whispers. Although I didn’t want to admit it, I really did want to be wanted.
--

I’d like to point out that Gerard is not sexist, if you were wondering. He has a severe phobia of females because of what his mother did to him. Childhood trauma like his doesn’t go away that easily. His past is clearly still haunting him.

Kayla?! · 05-04-2008, 06:48 PM

Okay, this is fantastic.
Your grammar and spelling is all correct and the end of every chapter leaves me wanting more.

I'm definitely putting this in Fanfiction Recommendations.
Amazing story so far, Allison.
<3