Red rivers ooze like veins over the slippery floor and a hundred steel blades slash and rip through fragile flesh, destroying, consuming and mutilating without mercy! It's so dark down here but the blood still shines bright crimson and Frank's ears ring with the sick sound of metal tearing skin, muscle and cartilage apart. Her blood soaks his face like rain as she screams for her life, weeping in the darkness, begging him to save her. "Help me, Frank! HELP ME, PLEASE!"

But he can’t help or even move. He's chained to a filthy floor, lying in his own spilled blood and no matter how hard he fights to free himself he's just not strong enough. His skin crawls with pain and tears fill his throat and burn his eyes. Her lifeless body sinks onto the floor at last and the fatal blades sever her head which rolls stickily towards him trailing wet bloody hair. Sick with grief and terror, Frank tries to scream as the sharp flashing blades come to claim him in the darkness but blood fills his mouth and he starts to choke...

With a strangled cry, Frank jerks awake and falls off the sofa, landing with a smack on a hard concrete floor. With the metallic taste of blood still on his tongue, he looks up and sees his four band mates staring down at him in confusion and concern. For a few seconds they're all too embarrassed to do anything. Then Gerard walks over and offers Frank his hand, pulling the smaller man easily to his feet.
"Are you okay?" the singer asks softly out of the corner of his mouth, his hazel eyes bright with worry. Frank nods self-consciously, clenching his shaking hands into fists and trying to calm his ragged breathing. Gerard is wearing black and red clothes and the cheap white make-up that makes him look dead. They're backstage at the Chicago gig before the show in a small smoky dressing room with too many mirrors.

The band's new drummer Bob is perched on the arm of the couch Frank just vacated tapping away on his phone while Ray plays with a laptop in the corner and Mikey is standing in the doorway holding a cup of coffee. They're all awkwardly avoiding Frank's gaze and he feels his cheeks start to burn. "Come on," Gerard says quietly, nodding at the door, “Let's take a walk.” Wanting very much to vomit from the gory taste in his mouth, Frank follows his friend outside.

"What's going on with you?" Gerard asks, pulling a cigarette from behind his ear and lighting it outside the Stage Door. Frank stares at the icy ground and shuffles his feet in the frost, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Nothing," he lies pathetically.
"Nothing," Gerard echoes, "Uh huh sure. Look, I know you don't want to talk about it...whatever it is, and I can understand that, but don't shut yourself off completely Frankie. Promise me you'll talk to someone about what's wrong even if it's not anyone we know.”
Frank nods miserably, planning to do no such thing.
“I know shit seems to come our way a lot,” Gerard adds, breathing tobacco smoke at the dark sky, “And we can take most of the punches but at some point something always gives and if it's your mind then you should take it seriously."
Frank nods again, scratching his neck as his skin tingles with cold. The sun has set and a chill wind is howling and moaning around the venue.
"Are you okay to play tonight?" Gerard asks hesitantly, his expression serious.
"Of course I am!" Frank blurts, "I'm not sick, Gee. I'm just... I dunno. I haven't been sleeping well."
“I see.”There's a long pause while Frank lights himself a cigarette inside his cupped hands out of the wind and smokes it furiously down to the filter. "Alright," Gerard says at last. "Are you sure there's nothing you want to talk about while we're out here? You know I'll always listen."
Frank sighs and closes his eyes then flinches as the dead girl's face flashes into his mind, stained with blood and dark with hate. Snapping his eyes open, he throws his cigarette stub on the ground and lights up a fresh one, avoiding Gerard's gaze as his heart pounds like a hammer in his chest. "No. Nothing."

That night onstage Frank is ashamed to mess up the intros and chords for three different songs and even though Gerard just laughs it off to the crowd - "Hey, did anyone notice Frank screw up there? He does it on purpose just to fuck with me!" - Frank feels like utter shit. He can't concentrate on his job and can barely feel the heavy guitar in his hands when usually it feels so close to him it's like a part of his body. Playing in this band is what he lives for and what he’s always wanted to do but right now he can’t even do that right!

After the show he goes straight to his motel room alone to shower and sleep determined to beat this thing. He will beat it, he just needs some proper rest. Then everything will go back to normal. Swallowing a couple of over-the-counter sleeping pills with a glass of warm whiskey he lies down in the soft bed in his boxer shorts and an old t-shirt and closes his eyes on the world...

In his dreams Frank is standing in a bright empty room with silver walls and a metal floor and no doors or windows. He's not sure where he is but at least there is no darkness here. There are no murder weapons and no pools of blood. No screaming. It's quiet and empty and he feels safe and sound.
With nothing else to do, he sits down on the smooth shiny floor and is startled when a girl suddenly appears next to him. He doesn't recognize her but she's quite pretty, about his age, with bleached hair, pink-framed glasses and dramatic eye make-up. She's wearing a purple t-shirt with tight black jeans and some doc marten boots with red ribbons for laces. He smiles at her and she smiles back with perfect white teeth. "That's not the right way," she says loudly.
"Huh?" Frank stammers, confused.
"That's not the right way," the girl repeats. Then she laughs at him, her voice echoing off the metal walls.
Frank stares at her in confusion, "I'm sorry, I don't understand."
The girl smiles patiently and glances down at Frank's hands. He follows her gaze and sees that he is wearing bright red fingerless gloves. He looks up again and the girl has vanished. So has the safe shiny room....

He is now sitting on a black stage at a My Chemical Romance concert while 'The Ghost of You' plays at full volume in front of a hysterical crowd of fans who are singing along to every word. Looking around, Frank sees Gerard striding around the stage in a black suit and pink feather boa, wielding his microphone like a weapon, while Mikey plucks at a white bass guitar and Bob plays the shit out of some drums. On the left side of the stage, Ray is lounging in a neon green garden chair drinking a Cosmo cocktail with a paper umbrella in it.
'That's all gravy,' Frank mutters, leaning back against a huge black amp and vaguely wondering why he isn't going deaf. The song pounds along, sounding just like it always does despite the fact that neither Ray nor Frank are playing and after a while Frank feels the comforting weight of a guitar in his lap. When he looks down he sees 'Pansy' - his beloved white Les Paul - and with a smile he gets to his feet, walks into the swirling spotlights and begins to play. The crowd cheers and 'Pansy' sounds so beautiful, responding perfectly to his touch. It's just like old times.

The bright lights shine hot on his face and Frank grins happily as his fingers slide up and down the guitar's strings as naturally as his lungs breathe. The excitement and energy of being onstage courses through his body in waves of pure joy and it seems like such a long time since he's felt this alive that he almost cries with relief. This is what he's been missing since the nightmares began and it feels so good to get it back!

'The Ghost of You' ends triumphantly and Gerard announces 'Headfirst For Halos'. Frank joins in with the opening chords and as the show goes on he plays and sings and throws himself around the stage with everything he has, enjoying every second if it. A sweet euphoria surges through him as sweat streams from his skin and all the pain and anxiety he's been holding on to for the last ten days pours out of him. This is his life and he loves it, this is everything to him! This...
...isn't real... is it?
Without warning the headless dead girl appears in front of him like a bolt of lightning and the song sputters and warps into a chorus of inhuman screams. Her blood floods his mouth once more, pouring down his throat and choking him. He's drowning in it! Dropping Pansy, Frank vomits up mouthfuls of scarlet puke and drops to his knees, covering his ears against the deafening screams of pain screeching through the air. "Shut up! Leave me alone!" he begs but his voice is drowned out by the noise and he drags himself upright, ready to run away, confused and frightened... and finds himself back in the empty metal room.

The concert is gone and the euphoria of performing has run out of him like water down a drain, leaving him cold and empty. The shining walls loom in too close and too bright and a chill of fear runs down his spine. He doesn't want to be here. This feels wrong! Looking wildly around for a door or a window, he can't find any. There's no way out! "Hey!" he shouts nervously, "Can anyone hear me?" No answer. No sounds at all.

Panting anxiously, Frank rubs at his bare arms and his skin feels hot and prickly like bugs are crawling all over him. A wave of dread washes through his stomach and he hugs himself, chewing his lip, afraid without knowing why. There's a flash of light and a rush of unbearable heat and then white-hot flames burst out of his skin and surge across his body in a roaring crackling fire that burns through his clothes and flesh! Screaming in pain and shock, he tries to beat the flames with his hands but his fingers are burning too: blistering red and black as lumps of charred skin sizzle and melt off his bones! Collapsing to the floor Frank screams in agony as the flames consume him...

...and he wakes up in bed with a hoarse cry of fear. Throwing back the covers, he desperately slaps his shaking hands all over his body to fight off the roaring flames burning into his flesh. But he isn't actually on fire anymore. It was just another nightmare.

Gasping and trembling against the crumpled pillows, Frank tries to catch his breath and ends up bursting into tears instead. His chest feels weighted and tight and his skinny body shudders with the force of his violent panicky sobs. His skin feels hot to the touch and his face is wet with sweat and tears. The fire felt so real and hurt so much, like he was really dying! What the fuck is happening to him?!

It's still the dead of night and the motel room is pitch black but like a frightened child he's too scared to get up and turn on the light. Finally after several minutes alone shivering and whimpering in the dark he can't take it anymore and lunges for the bedside lamp, flicking it on and checking the time on the alarm clock. It's only 12:45am: he's been asleep for less than an hour! Groaning miserably, he rubs his eyes and immediately sees fresh flames roaring out of the dark to kill him in the worst way possible! Gasping with panic, Frank stumbles off the bed and runs for the bathroom, turning on the lights and setting the shower to Cold before climbing in fully clothed. As the torrent of freezing water drenches his hair and skin he forces himself to calm his frightened breathing and racing heartbeat, gulping deep lungfuls of moist air and keeping his eyes wide open against the imaginary fire.

An hour later he still can't bring himself to leave the safety of the shower so he curls up miserable and exhausted on the wet tiles, hugging his knees to his chest and sobbing weakly as the cold water gushes down upon his head. He can't let himself fall asleep again. He can't take anymore of these dreams.

Notes

((Yeah, um, I hope you're gonna like this. If not then maybe check out my other stories or read some stuff by GeesGirl! because she's awesome! I'll never stop updating something as long as people seem to like it so we'll see how this goes. xox))