~~~Mikey's POV~~~

I looked up at Justin as I woke up. I still felt like crap. Brendon had just cast me out of his life like I was nothing. Justin nudged me.
"Pete invited us to his gig on Friday night.. I can't go I have jazz practice. Mikey don't go... Pete's trouble..."
"B- He showed me their demo CD. Ay I might as well go."
Justin nodded.
"Mind if I take a shower?"
I shook my head and stared at the tickets.

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I headed into the club at about 6.30 and headed over to Pete. I nodded at Andy, he was in Gerard's art class. Pete introduced me to Patrick and Joe. I felt out of my depth and wished Justin was here. Pete ordered me a drink and then pulled out a tablet. I frowned.
"It's LSD. You'll feel better.. Trust me."
I nodded and watched him drop it into my drink. I sipped it and frowned when I saw Brendon. What the fuck was he doing here? Pete when running over to say hi. After a few minutes, the guys went to the stage. Patrick mumbled to me as he went by.
"We're so sorry..."
I frowned and shook my head, focusing on Pete's bass as the lights dimmed.

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"I'm watching you two from the closet, wishing to be the friction in your jeans."
The line made me freeze. I remembered something Pete had said to me a while ago.
'Shame you're taken.'
This didn't feel right. I put my drink down and stumbled as I got up. Everything started spinning. I gripped the bar with one hand and my head with the other. Someone grabbed me and I looked up at Brendon, barely able to put a sentence together.
"Home.. Please..."
I got yanked into Pete's arms.
"I'll take you home, Mikes."
I just lay against him, too disorientated to argue. He gently lay me in his back seat and started driving.

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I saw the Costello Woods outside the window and frowned.
"I live... other side... town."
"I know."
"Why-"
"Just shut the fuck up.
I flinched at his tone and fell silent. After about half-an-hour, we stopped and Pete got out. The door opened and he dragged me out by my hair. I struggled weakly as everything clicked. The drugs, the song, Patrick apologizing. I started crying.
"Please.. Don't want... To..."
He smacked me.
"Shut up, slut."
I lay there, helpless, as he stripped me, bending my legs back. I did the only thing I could do. Brace myself for the pain. I felt him slam into me and screamed out. He slapped my again and started slamming hard into me. I cried softly; the pain was red hot. I closed my eyes and waited for it to end.

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I felt Pete cum and I squirmed weakly. He pulled his pants up and helped me dress. He shoved me into the back of his car and started driving. I lay there staring at the ceiling.
"If you tell anyone, you'll regret being born.
Little did he know, I already did.

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The car slowed and Pete got out, throwing me outside a hospital.
"See you on Monday, slut."
I staggered towards the hospital as he drove away, before freezing. Gerard was out of state with Frank and Mama was still in New York on a business trip. I turned around and hobbled home.

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I logged onto Facebook to see I'd been added into a group chat.
'Damn the slut.'
'Wish I could fuck his brains out like that.'
I slowly scrolled up and froze to see a picture of Pete raping me. I let out a sob and went to type something before spotting four words which broke my heart more.
'Seen by Brendon Urie.'

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I stared at my fat in the mirror, my self-loathing increasing when I looked at my face. I grabbed a pair of scissors off my desk and slashed at the side of my face, screaming. Why me? Why couldn't I be popular? Why couldn't I keep a boyfriend? Why couldn't I just die? I let my hand dropped and stared at myself in the mirror. I'd basically shaved half my hair off. I got Gerard's electric razor and sheared the rest off. The cuts would be visible but I didn't care. I ran my fingers through my, now, short hair. I went back to Gerard's room and went into the en suite. I washed myself until it hurt to touch my skin before grabbing the hair dye I'd made up. I rubbed it into my hair, hissing when it got into my cuts. I sat on the edge, leaning back so my head didn't get wet. I closed my eyes. I should have listened to Justin. I should have never gone to that gig. Tears pricked up and I clawed at my legs until they bled.

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I lay on my bed, staring at my posters, running a hand through my now black hair. I sat up when my mobile rang. I sat at my desk and hit speakerphone.
"Mikey?"
I froze hearing Brendon's voice before shaking my head.
"What?"
"I just wanted to make sure you were OK..."
"I'm fine."
I spotted a box on my shelf and thought back to Alicia, my best friend back in Newark. I pulled it down and opened it, staring at the fake I.D. inside.
"I was hoping I could come o-"
"I'm going out. Bye."
I hung up, shoved it into my jeans pocket, grabbed the I.D. and Gerard's wallet off the kitchen table as I left.

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I stared at the spider now tattooed on my lower fore arm and at the piercings through my right helix, the taper in my ear and my nose ring. I handed the cashier Gerard's card and tapped in the code. I took it back and started walking home. It was about 3am. Men leered at me and I pulled my jacket closer around me. I rushed back home trying not to cry.

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I woke up to my alarm on Monday. I flickered my eyes open and got up. I grabbed my black skinny jeans and slashed the knees open before pulling them on. I found a particularly gruesome Marilyn Manson tee, sliding it on. I stared at my tattoo before lacing up my knee-high converse. I delicately painted my eyelids with black eye shadow before applying mascara and eyeliner. I darkened my lips with Mama's dark red lipstick and went downstairs. I slid some of out old dog chains through my belt loops and grabbed my Joy Division school bag, setting off. I took the longer, more secluded route, plugged into Motionless in White. I ran into school realizing I was late. I stood outside Social Studies, flattening my hair and putting my music away. I took a breath and walked straight in, making eye contact with no one and sinking into my usual seat next to Brendon.
"Sorry I'm late.. Family issues..."

Notes

So Mikey now looks like how he does in The Black Parade era.