Art Is The Weapon

The year was 2010 and the sun was rising over the city of New York. The city that never sleeps was going about its daily business, children running to catch the school bus, fathers jumping into yellow taxies after kissing their wives goodbye as they set off to work, leaving their wives to a day of household chores and looking after the kids. In downtown New York, In the poorly kempt flats of Warwick Avenue, a man and his family were waking up to another typical day in the city they called home; unknown to them of the events which were about to befall on them. Gerard woke up to the stale smell of coffee hanging around the room. He slid of out of bed and into the kitchen, made himself some coffee and slumped into a chair. The flat was falling to pieces and he knew it. The door was rickety and hanging on it hinges, there was damp coming from the ceiling with mould beginning to crawl up the yellowing walls, the strong stench of decay often wafted through the decrepit hole of a flat, as if death himself lived here or somewhere nearby; many unpleasant and repulsive people lived in these flats, which was unsurprising as it was an area full of those on low income or living off the state. Nobody really cared for the flats, which was bad enough, but the state of the house which housed this family, while it wasn’t as bad as Mrs Garrets flat two doors down which always seemed to reek of piss, was enough to make your stomach churn.

It’s not because he and his wife were messy people, but since Red had come along, there wasn’t much time to clean a house, go to work and look after a 15 week old baby. He sipped his coffee and continued to kid himself that soon they would move out of this hole, kid himself that he would get another job and stick it this time. Lindsey would encourage him all the way but after the events of last year, he really would do to anything not to lose her.

Red was beginning to cry from her room, or what had to be her room. He went into the living room and picked up his tiny daughter. He was a wiz at stuff that involved kids. He got her changed, fed her a bottle then sat in the chair looking at her. He knew she was going to be a stunner; she was the spitting image of her mum; skin so pale it was the colour of snow, tiny button of a nose which only amplified his daughter’s lovability and her little lips, plump and red just like her mother’s. She really was her mother’s daughter, except the dark brown eyes which she got from him. Red curled her star fish hand around his finger; she always made him smile when she did this.

Lindsey soon walked in; she stood for a moment in the door way watching her husband with their daughter in his arms, dark rings of sleepless nights ghosted under her eyes. Gerard saw her and smiled, she was looking rather sexy standing there with nothing but his blue superman shirt on, her long pale legs seeming to go on forever and her breasts were just visible from beneath the thin blue fabric. Her hair was a sight for sore eyes; a black unkempt looking mess and her face scraped of all its makeup and fakery to reveal a young, tired looking woman but he didn’t care. To him, she was beautiful no matter how bad she looked in the mornings, “Hey how’s my lil girl” She said in the high pitched voice that was only ever spoken to Red. She looked up and into my eyes, the deep blue pools of her eyes shone in the morning sun. “Morning babe” She purred kissing him tenderly. She took the baby from him and began to play with her. She was a good mum; Gerard couldn’t complain about her, he loved her and Red more than anything else in life, but it was him he thought to be the most unstable one. The one he trusted the least.

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“Morning Mickey” A voice said. Mickey’s eyes shot open. He looked over his shoulder; in his bed laid a woman; a blonde bombshell with piercing green eyes and a glamorous face. “I had such a great night last night” She said. He smiled slightly; an awkward, uncomforting smile. He didn’t have a clue who the girl was or how she got in his bed, all he wanted was to get away from her. He pulled himself up and sat naked on the bed, head in his hands unable to look at the shame of the one night stand that lay next to him.

“Not again” he thought. This was the second time in a month. Why he kept getting drunk with Glen? He didn’t know the answer to that, his life was literally in the shitter and when he went out with him somehow, not that he even knew it was possible, it just got worse; but what he did know was that he wasn’t going near him again. He got up, pulled on some jeans and walked out of the room. “Mickey, were you going?” the girl asked. He ignored her and walked to the front door, reaching for his keys and unlocking it for her to leave. His flat somewhat tidier than that of his brothers; yet stale booze hung in the air like burnt toast and stained every inch of his apartment; he wasn’t an alcoholic, he just felt, for this crappy moment in time, he needed the bottle. The abuse he received from his boss back in the office, the fuck up he had become just left him feeling lower than he had ever been. The girl followed him, the bed sheet wrapped round her.

“Listen…..” He began. “Holly” she said. He sighed, his cheeks flushing a deep red; he didn’t want to have this humiliatingly bad conversation again; he just wanted her out of here. “Listen Holly, what happened last night…I think you should go” He explained. She laughed as she walked back into the other room. He waited at the door until she had left. He fell backward over the arm of the sofa and into its welcoming embrace, his head pounding. How the hell had his life come to this? His girlfriend had cheated on him, his job paid bad money and he spent most nights out with Glen which usually ended up with him waking up next to some stranger.

He went to the fridge, opening it to reveal its emptiness except for a single bottle of Stella, taking it out and drinking the last bit of beer in the bottle. “This is what it’s like being an adult, kids" He moaned putting the bottle in the bin. He caught his refection in the toaster, he looked pretty bad, dark rings under his eyes like he had taken one or two very bad beatings, eyes blood shot, skin blotchy and tarnished with bruises, his dark hair was greasy, bedraggled and stank of booze He ran his fingers through his matted hair. “Life couldn’t possibly get any better” He thought miserably.

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“Uncle Ray, Uncle Ray wake up” Jackson said hysterically, shaking his uncle violently to wake him. Ray stirred, forcing open one eye and studied his nephews face. “What?” He murmured he could hear the irritation in his voice, everyone who knew Ray Toronto knew that he certainly wasn’t a morning person. “Get up god dammit, there coming for us” He cried. Ray eyes snapped open, the smell of the sleazy motel made him gag. He jumped out of the clammy feeling bed and hurriedly pulled on his clothes. “Who’s they” He asked as he pulled his shirt on. Jackson didn’t hear. He was too busy shoving their clothes into a bag and running towards the door. “Meet me by the car and hurry up!” He called out before closing the door.
Ray pulled on his converse, his heart full of adrenaline, excitement and dread rushing through his veins and building up in his chest; the feeling alone was exhilarating and he knew that the chase between them and the motel manager was on. He quickly glanced around, checking to see if anything was missed, why on earth did they stay here? There was mould creeping up the sodden walls upon which hung green rags of peeling wall paper, bugs nesting in the four corners of the room and that bed…Jesus what was on that bed that made it feel so wet? He sniffed his arms; he stank! Suddenly there was a bang on the door, startling Ray. “Motel manager” a gruff voice called out. His eyes widened as their situation suddenly became clear, like waking up from a bad dream in the warmth your bed and realising that it really was only a dream. They were out of money and he wanted paying. “Open up scumbag, either you pay or I’m calling the cops” He shouted. The door was shaking on its hinges, any moment that rickety thing was going to come crashing down and he knew what happened after- he’d seen it enough times in the movies.

He grabbed his bag and ran into the bathroom, locking the door. He looked around wildly looking for anything to escape the madman outside. His eyes suddenly caught hold of the window. Within a second of the sight of freedom meeting his eyes, he had picked up his rucksack and thrown it at the window. The glass shattered and the bag landed on the car park floor with a loud thud. He stood there for a moment wondering if this really was a good idea, suddenly the door to the motel room was kicked open; the door swung off its hinges and hit the neighbouring wall with a loud bang. He jumped out of the window, grabbing his bag and running for the car, his heart pulsing with fear as he ran. He saw Jackson sitting in the passenger’s seat of Ray’s car- a black but battered 1980’s Cadillac- beckoning at him to hurry up, eyes wide with panic. “Start the car” He shouted, his chest was heaving and he was slowing down, the run from the motel to the car wasn’t far but it was long enough to steal your breath. The car started up. Ray picked up speed; he could hear the manager running after him, screaming at his heels. Jackson opened the driver’s door to the car and Ray jumped into the car, turned the key in the ignition and sped off into the morning sun, leaving the manager screaming with rage behind them. Jackson was laughing in his seat. “Another great escape hu Uncle Ray” He giggled. Ray smiled. “I don’t fail to impress you eh kid” He said ruffling sun kissed hair.

Couple of hours later, they were driving along the freeway to New York. Jackson lay asleep in the leather of the passenger seat of Ray’s cars. “Poor kid” Ray thought. He and Jackson looked alike in some ways with the brown, afro like hair and light coffee coloured skin. But the person Jackson really took after was Mona- Ray’s sister. Mona was 14 when she had Jackson and died a few weeks later. For the past 10 years, Ray looked after Jackson as if he were his own. Sometimes he would stare at him and wonder what she would look like now, would she be taller? Would she still possess that child like sense about her? Would she be how he remembered her? His beautiful, dark skinned and eyed sister who had been a straight A and B student with a personality which could charm the ugliest of characters? He shook his head as if to rid himself of those thoughts, the pain still felt raw after all these years. He loved her dearly, they had been through so much together and when she was murdered that day, his whole world had fallen apart. He brushed away a stray tear from his cheek and put his arm around Jackson, a thin smile creeping to the corners of his mouth. It was just the two of them now and he would make sure that he would do anything not to lose him like Mona.

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Unlike his friends, Frank Iero woke up this morning to the sound of his daughters crying. His life, to the world outside his front door, was pretty much perfect; big house in the gated community of Fairview Drive, just on the outskirts of New York, a young glamorous wife and two beautiful twin daughters as well as a huge paid job that many people could only dream of. He dragged himself out of the king-sized bed he shared with his darling wife and wandered down into the living room. His wife was sitting there, upon the brown leather sofa with his twin daughters in her arms. “Help” She pleaded. He grinned as he picked up April. Almost instantly, she stopped crying, as did Summa. Claire smiled weakly at him. “You’re like some sort of magician” she breathed.

He smiled as he tossed his daughter in the air. He held her under her arms as she giggled wildly. He suddenly realised how much his daughter looked like him, dark hair and eyes with that stupid nose. Summa was identical to April, except for her mother’s eyes. She was beautiful, they were all so beautiful and this random, sudden realisation choked him slightly. “Did you sleep alright” Claire asked. He nodded happily, eyes fixed on his squealing daughter. “What about you? You hardly sleep anymore” He replied sitting down carefully next to her. She shook her head. “I think its stress y’know, I mean I’m up to my eyeballs in paperwork then there are the accounts that I’ve gotta sort out….” She trailed off noticing her husband’s worried expression.

Frank stared at her. He really wanted her to take some time out, let her spend a weekend with her friends doing what women do or take her out somewhere, leave the girls with his sister and take her on holiday, somewhere sunny and incredible, treat her like a princess. But this, her own life, was tearing her apart and he knew it. “Honey, maybe you need some time off or something” He said softly. She walked out of the room and into the kitchen. He walked after her. “Honey……Claire” He started. She wasn’t listening to him; she was washing up the kids’ breakfast; she was always cleaning as if try and wash away those problems inside her head but no matter how hard she scrubbed, they would never leave. “Claire….Claire…Claire will you give it a break for 5 minutes and just listen” He shouted.

She threw the plate into the sink, anger and total exhaustion pained upon her face. “You don’t have clue Frank! All you have to do is sit in a chair and see if anyone’s turned up! You don't have a clue!” She shouted back. She broke down in tears and slumped into a chair at the table. He put his arms round her. “I’m only trying to help Claire, this it’s…your making yourself ill” He said softly. She didn’t speak. She just kept crying into his chest. To the outside world, Frank Iero had it all but inside, behind closed doors, he felt as though it was all slipping away.

Notes

Hi sorry this is really long!
So this is my first chapter, I hope you enjoy it x

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