With Every Blade You Stain

As the afternoon began to fade to darkness, our conversation turned to more trivial things - like why cats didn't like water, and what it would feel like to ride a unicorn. I was amazed at how eloquent this girl was - I could tell just by the way she spoke that she was highly intelligent. She was pretty as well, although something in her demeanour told me she didn't see that in herself. I looked at her thin form as she sat on the rock beside me and wondered how she had come to this - it was very clear to me that she suffered from depression. And I would know. I wondered why she trusted me - by the looks of it she didn't have anyone else to confide in. She memorised me - the way she spoke - that accent that I couldn't quite place. I'd noticed that a lot in the short time I'd been here - as well as the times before. If you go to South Africa, the people have a strong South African accent. Same with Australia, and America was like that too, I suppose. But in New Zealand, it was different. No two people had the same accent - there was a neutral tone that every New Zealander had - but everyone spoke differently. I didn't really understand it. Was it something to do with being a small country with no land borders that gave everyone an indistinct mixed accent? I had no idea. But she certainly pronounced every word the way it should be said - not like how most Americans I've come to notice tend to pronounce the 't' sound in a word like a 'd' and so on. But that wasn't the only thing. I know she only went to the airport for one reason, and she lived at least an hour's drive away! But she wasn't like any other fan - screaming and yelling and trying to wave things in your face. She sat back, and drew. And that was another thing - I had never met an ambidextrous person before - and she was amazing at drawing. I could sit and watch her draw for hours - the way she used two pencils at the same time - it was fascinating. I was lost in my thoughts when I heard my name. "Gerard?" She asked, and I jerked my head up to look at her.
"Yeah?" I answered.
"What's it like in America?"
I had to think about that.
"Well, it's kinda the same as here - just busier, and not as green, and noisier, I guess." It was a pretty lame answer, but I really didn't know what to say.
She smiled. "I've always wanted to go there. See what it's like. Most books - and tv shows - movies, they're all set there. And it looks so interesting. I - I just wanted to know..." She trailed off and looked away, out over the sea.
And then I remembered. I pulled out a folded piece of paper I always kept on me and took out a pencil from my pocket. I unfolded it and closed my eyes - letting the memories of home flood back to me. I sketched the view from my window - drawing in all the detail of the rising sun - the buildings and the street below. My hand moved without my control and before I knew it, I was sketching a scene from the day before I left on this tour. When I'd got up early, unable to sleep and sat on the floor of the living room, watching the sun rise. Then Bandit had come in silently, rubbing her eyes as she walked to the window and looked out. I smiled fondly at the memory - remembering how she had come and crawled into my lap, and we'd talked, and she said how much she was going to miss me.
God I missed her now.
I sighed, and looked back up at the world I was in now. Karla was staring at me - or rather the drawing in my hands - a look of pure awe on her face. I sighed again and looked down at it, feeling a lump of sadness and longing rise in my throat. I missed my family so much. At least when I'd gone on tour with My Chemical Romance the guys had been there too. I'd always had my friends, and my brother - but now I didn't even have Mikey. And it was really starting to get to me. I was alone now, and while that was exciting, and different, I still missed the days of being in a band. But that was over now. MCR had run its course, and we had all decided that it was for the best. I looked up at Karla, and she looked back at me, and I could see in her eyes that she understood what I was feeling. She gave a small, half-smile of sympathy, and pointed to my drawing.
"That's your daughter, isn't it" she said, and I smiled sadly.
"Yeah", I said, and my voice came out as a sort of croak as we looked down at the smiling Bandit, her already long hair flying over her shoulder as she turned.
"You must miss her so much...." She whispered, her voice trailing off as she gazed at the drawing of my daughter, and I could see in her eyes the pain that I felt. I shifted over and put my arm around her shoulder - we both needed the comfort, I think. Seems we do, because instead of just sitting there, Karla turned and wrapped her arms round me, hugging me tightly, and I did the same.
"You miss someone too huh?" I ask, and I feel her nod slightly against my shoulder.
"Yeah", she whispered hoarsely. "I miss my... I mean....sometimes it's just hard not having my dad anymore. I know it's been two years - and I should be used to it - but sometime when I see other... Families... I just..... It's hard. "
I know how she feels. I remember how long it took me and Mikey to come to terms with our grandmother, Elena's death. Even after writing a song about her.
Karla sighed and leaned back, and I found myself missing her warmth.
We were silent for a minute before she turned to me and smiled.
"I almost forgot", she said. "Thanks for saving my life"
I laughed at that, and so did she. Soon we were talking about the most random things, and I laughed the most since I had left home.
I had found a friend, and I was immensely glad of it.

Notes

I did Gerard's pov guys! Yayy!

Sorry if this stories kinda boring - coz its not really going anywhere at the moment - but soon, I promise! Just keep in mind that its rated tragedy for a reason, so if you're easily triggered, then it's maybe not the best thing to read, but that's still a couple chapters away, so just a heads up! :3

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