Gerard's POV

I've only been a freshman for one month, and I already despise Belleville High as a whole. The teachers are rotten and unreliable in any situation possible, the faculty gossips and chatters of others' misfortunes, and the students are far from friendly. I sometimes wonder how this building still stands, with all the foul commotion of everyone inside its cheap and crumbling walls.

All my classes are almost unbearable, but I pull myself through, just until music class begins. For the first month, all the boys were learning how to sight read. Guitar was one of my hobbies, and sight reading came to me easier than other students. In the meantime, I drew quietly in my notebook, and sat as far as possible from the choir.

The music instructor arrived, and had begun talking about a new subject. Something about song writing. I ignored him, until he had called my name.

"Mister Way," he said, coldly. "Why don't you say one of your own song lyrics?"

"S-sir?"

"I believe you are scribbling because you have already written songs of your own?"

I blush. "W-well, I've written a couple."

"Sing one," he spat out, his tongue full of venomous words.

My voice was cracked and almost mute. "O-one of my own?"

He smiled maliciously, "Precisely," he instructed. "Now come here and sing it to the class."

I widened my eyes and did as told, stepping ever so slowly to the front. Fifty witnesses. I stood silently, causing the teacher to smirk.

"Sing."

The look in his eyes, they were fierce and cold. His grin became smug. He crossed his arms and pointed to the grand piano sitting magnificently in the corner.

"You should sing and play the piano for the class," he chuckled lightly.

Honestly, I've never touched a piano, let alone play it. However, I nodded and found myself sitting on a leathery stool by a bunch of white and black keys. For a few minutes, I ran my fingers along the keys, listening to every single note. My dad used to play piano, but never let me touch his. As a kid, I watched him play Mozart and Beethoven almost effortlessly. I hope that it somehow runs in the family.

"Play, Gerard," the teacher mocked, gaining snickers from the class.

I began by playing single notes, and they sounded beautiful. Whatever I was playing, I loved it. My mind circled around my father, and I wondered what I would sing about. My choir instructor motioned me to start singing, like the arrogant bitch he (and, frankly, everyone else in this goddamned hellhole of a high school) is. Finally, I decided to sing about my dad.

"When I was a young boy, my father, took me into the city to see a marching band...."

I remember it like it was yesterday. The balloons, the smell of cinnamon and sugary sweets, the kids crowding to see the event. My taste buds recalled the taste of roasted coffee on that cold winter morning. Snow, fun, smiles, laughter. During all the excitement, I had asked my dad why he hadn't been home for the last couple weeks. I was only seven at the time, and he simply told me he was sick and would be going someplace very soon, someplace really nice. He told me to be strong. He never told me he had cancer.

"He said, 'Son when you grow up...would you be the saviour of the broken, the beaten and the damned?' He said 'Will you defeat them,your demons, and all the non-believers, the plans that they have made? Because one day I'll leave you, A phantom to lead you in the summer, To join The Black Parade.' "

I was too nervous to continue, and stopped playing those mysteriously beautiful notes. The teacher stared at me blankly.

"You wrote that?"

I nod and leave the choir room, and head towards the men's restroom. The cool thing about the restrooms is that no one is ever inside. Most kids in this school, no matter their class, rich and poor, are total neat freaks. I happen to be a total slob and don't mind the constantly wet floors and peeling walls. Actually, I hang out here all the time. Teachers don't give two fucks.

My mp3 player is my savior, so I blast some Master of Puppets (Metallica) and slow it down with some Bohemian Rhapsody (Queen). I grin in happiness, and wait for the period to end. Once it does, I walk down the halls to reach my last destination, art.

Notes

The chapter I previously wrote...well I wrote it because some people told me horrible things :/

I hope this chapter starts the story a lot better c: