The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys

Party Poison. The name was fresh on my tongue. That's the name they had given me. I wasn't Gerard Way anymore. I didn't have a younger brother, Mikey, who liked cuddling and coffee and needed protecting. I didn't have a boyfriend, Frankie, who was small and cute and needed my help reaching the glasses on the top half of the kitchen cabinet. I wasn't even aloud out of the house after the accident.
I had abandoned my black eyeliner and my snow white hair. My hair was now long and fire truck red. It made me slightly uncomfortable but this was the way things had to be, I guess.
I dance for people now and that's the most human interaction I get. I don't strip of anything - I just dance, my gloved hands high above my head or even sometimes shoved down my pants to tease as I fake moaned and mouthed along to whatever song was playing. Maybe sometimes the moans weren't even fake. I actually liked what I did. After all, I wasn't Gerard Way anymore. I was a new person. I was Party Posion. I wore a mask that hid my face and shirts that were ripped along the sides and showed off my ribs and sometimes even my stomach. I liked this life. It was better than sitting in my basement getting drunk, after all. Sometimes I missed my younger brother who would sit on my lap and tell me how good or even bad his day had been. Sometimes I'd miss my boyfriend who'd stand on his tip toes to kiss me. Who I could tell how he was feeling just by how he kissed me or how he looked at me with those big, innocent puppy eyes. Sure, I miss them. And sometimes if I turned my head very fast, I think I can see them. But, of course, it never tunes out to be them.
I wonder if Mikey and Frank had stopped looking for me the day after I was sent to the orphanage and then taken. I wonder I'd they though I had run away. I know I hated it there and I wanted to, but I didn't have any balls.
Party Posion, however, had many balls and can do whatever he wanted. He can moan like a cheap whore on stage and it'll be okay because he wasn't Gerard Way. No, he was Party Poison and he lived with three other boys just like him. We were always permitted to wear our masks, so I didn't know them. Their names were Fun Ghoul, Kobra Kid and Jet Star and we weren't aloud to speak to each other. Ever. We were constantly threatened to get our tongues cut out because, after all, we were just slaves. What did we need to speak for?
But I need my tongue. I needed it for my shows and my shows are my only support beam right now. May be it's just me, but I think my vocals are the best part of the show. I wonder if the other three put on shows like I do in the underground club. I do my shows then another job is given to me. I don't complain and I don't question it. These were the way things were. I'd like to see the other's put on shows though. Maybe I could improve mine by watching theirs.

Notes

Something that had been sitting in my notebook for awhile. I know this chapter sucks, but I actually really like this story so please stick around.