Tears sting my eyes, but I try to swallow them down. Well, fuck. That didn’t go how I wanted or expected it to. I wander around aimlessly trying to hold back all my terrible thoughts before realizing I have nowhere to go. A café? Which one? I find my feet walking to one of my only places of comfort. I haven’t been here in a long time. It’s this amazing locally run art studio that gets new art every week.
I step inside and out of the frigid winter air. Fuck, I still have the same clothes on from yesterday. Now they smell and remind me of Gerard. That stupid fucker. I fucking hate him. No, you don’t… a voice whispers. You loved every kiss he gave you, everywhere his fingers touched … Ugh! I claw, frustrated, at my knotted hair.
Trying to get my mind off of Gerard and the thought of my razor in my bag I check out what kind of paintings the studio has this week. Oil paintings…ohhhh…if only I could afford the supplies… It seems to be an abstract themed week, with the walls decorated by varying sizes of canvases covered in bright interpretive colours.
I find myself lost in one medium sized one in the corner. The canvas’s original cream colour is completely disguised by twisting swirls of blue, and seafoam, turquoise and light green. It reminds me so much of the sea. Free, open and beautiful. All the things I want to be…
Suddenly the owner starts to shoo me out telling me that it’s closing time. Wow, I’ve been here for hours. Now comes the difficult task of finding somewhere to sleep. I could sleep at school like I did that horrible night, but frankly I don’t want anything to do with school right now. I guess that leaves the street. Fucking great…
I find a dark alleyway where I hopefully won’t be disturbed and settle down. I dig around in my bag trying to find extra shirt or something to lay my head on when I cut my hand on something. I pull it out and find it was only my razor. My razor… I stare, paralyzed, at the small metal object in my hand. It seems so small yet so powerful. My father’s daunting words and Gerard’s hurtful ones ring in my head, …get your bloody body off my carpet…have fun living on the streets like the whore you are...You have no life now, you will disappear and no one will remember or miss you, and Gerard’s, I don’t care if you die. I’m sure the whole school would have a fucking field day of celebration, you just don’t have the guts. You’re just a wimp, like your father. I’m sure you like it in some fucked up way.
The razor in my hand catches the street light. Beautifully ugly…just like me.
I hide the razor back in my bag, somehow managing to not use it and my mind wanders as sleep refuses me. I can’t feel my fingers anymore; they’re frozen solid and my legs which are only covered by fishnets are ice cold.
Gerard fucking confuses me. It used to confuse me when he would pick on me, I mean nobody liked me in the first place, I couldn’t understand why he would want to make me even less popular. Then I thought I was just unlucky, that maybe he was in a bad mood one day and I had done something without even knowing to piss him off and he had a grudge. Then I concluded that I was just his toy. He liked hurting me and I was an easy target. I would try to put up a fight, but quickly grew tired and just accepted my fate. But now…these last couple days, when he would hurt me I thought I could see this new regret in him. Ever since he found my drawing of him he started acting weird. Like it pained him to hurt me and then when he found out about my dad he became this protective, gentle weirdo that I’ve never seen before. I can’t say I didn’t like it. He could be really nice…especially when he was kissing me…Oh god…that whole situation. There’s no denying that I liked it, but why, I can’t tell. Whether I was craving human interaction or for someone to want me or that I was just so distressed that I couldn’t think clearly, I don’t know. I wonder what he thought of it. He said that I matter to him at first, but then after he seemed so confused. Oh man, confused…that seems to be the word of the day. One thing is for sure, I know that he’ll never kiss me again. He doesn’t like me, it was just an experiment. He was probably just horny…right?
~
I wake to the sound of some homeless dude digging through the dumpster beside me. He catches my eye and scowls. Hmph! I think to myself. Gathering my stuff up I make my leave.
When I’m around the corner I catch sight of myself in an apartment window. How many times do I have to look in the mirror disappointed before I finally accept my ugly fate? I will never be pretty or skinny or desirable. I will always be the pale skinned, stringy haired, wide hipped girl with fat thighs and a stupidly annoying butt chin. Licking my finger, I try to wipe away some of my two day old, smudged make-up. Then I dig out my signature red lipstick and paint my lips with it. Luckily I packed a hair brush, but it does nothing for the week old grease in my hair. When was the last time I had a shower? Yesterday, I was kissing Gerard, the Wednesday of the past week, I woke up in the hospital and went shopping with Frank and Jamia, the day before that Gerard found me at school and brought me to the hospital and the day before that my dad…r-raped me… So yeah, I haven’t had a shower in a long time since self-care certainly hasn’t been a top priority for these miserable 10 days. I was raped on a Monday. Today is...Friday.
My body still feels like utter shit, so I pull out that bottle of painkillers and the birth control pill and swallow them dry. Where do I go now? What time is it? Early morning probably, that means I woke up just in time for school. What a joy…
Reluctantly, I drag my feet to school with a warm coffee and muffin, spending a good chunk of my precious money. When I’m three quarters of the way there, the sidewalk becomes more crowded with other students on their way too. The big, daunting building comes into sight and now the urge to turn back and run away is almost unpreventable. People give me dirty looks and whispers rude things as I start to climb the stairs. At least it’ll be warm inside… I just start to feel the heat warm my frozen face when I feel a rough hand on the small of my back and another clasp my hand. They spin me right around and suddenly I’m being guided back down the stairs and away from school.
When I look up to see the one and only, frustrating, confusing, and annoyingly sexy Gerard, I begin to struggle. All the mercy or affection is gone from his eyes. They stare straight ahead with purpose and are narrowed with anger. This is not good. He only grips me tighter as I twist and thrash, trying to free myself. He never looks down at me only forward, leading me at a quick pace away from school.
“Where are we going?!” I shout at him, exasperated.
“We need to talk.” He grunts back through clenched teeth.
I scoff. “Talk? I don’t want to talk with you. Let me go!”
He just chuckles, “You really don’t have much say in the matter.”
“Fuck you!” He just ignores me and keeps on walking, dragging me alongside.
I notice that we’re headed into the less nice side of town, where I live. I’m surprised when we actually pass my street, but instead head towards the good side of the bad part of town, if that makes any sense. Where the fuck are we going? What the fuck does he want to talk about? Why is he dragging me all the way out here? A voice inside me whispers, he’s going to kill you…that’s why he’s bringing you out here. He doesn’t want to talk…he’s a killer.
We’ve been walking fast for almost twenty minutes and I’m just about to make another escape attempt, when he stops in front of a medium tall apartment building. It looks quite dodgy and sketchy with a few broken windows and graffiti covered walls. I’m surprised when he pulls out a set of keys and unlocks the lobby door. His grip on me loosens, but he still forcefully pulls me into the building. It’s, to my surprise, actually fairly clean inside. Definitely still dirty and creepy though. We head over to the stairs and begin climbing three flights before we stop at the end of the hall at the door with the number 305 on it. To the right is 304 and to the left 303. Then there are only two more doors with 302 and 301 on them proceeding down the hall.
Again he uses the keys from his pocket to unlock the door and only then does it hit me that maybe this is his apartment. We step through the door straight into a mess of a living room. There are big windows facing opposite us looking down to what I suspect is the street. The walls are painted dark ugly coffee colour with faded parts where the sun has aged them.
This is not a place I want to be.
Gerard stalks solemnly to the windows and stares out, neglecting to take off his dirty white converse, not that it would make any difference to the already disgusting floor.
“What in the hell do you want Gerard? I’ve been having a pretty shitty few days thanks to you and I don’t intend to let you steal my Friday too,” I tell him firmly.
“Shut the fuck up Lindsey.” My words seem to activate something in him, waking him from his thoughts. He spins around harshly “This,” he motions between us, “this new way between us, is not going to work. I don’t know what has gotten into you,” he pauses, and then adds reluctantly, “or me, but I’m putting a stop to it. You need to start treating me with some respect like you used to.”
My tongue is quick to respond; my brain moving a million miles an hour. “Oh, right respect. That word, that seems to have disappeared from your vocabulary. I will start treating you with respect once you deserve some. I’ve had enough of your bullshit and you can hurt me all you want but I’m done being the victim of your cruelty and mind games. I’ve got enough of a fucked up brain for the two of us but I’ve finally got my head out of my ass and realized that what you’re doing, how you act, who you are, it’s wrong and it’s unacceptable.”
“Unacceptable? Oh, you want to talk unacceptable? Try your father raping you, me taking you to the hospital, caring for you and making sure that that sicko won’t hurt you again only to have you come screaming at me about how I’ve really fucked you over now! That is un-fucking-acceptable!”
“You need a real big reality check, Gerard fucking Way! I do not give a flying fuck if you brought me to the hospital one time or if you bought me some nice new clothes. I had to put with a whole year and a half of your torment and that doesn’t go away with some few indirect apologies. In fact, it never goes away, but it is going to stop and you will just have to pray to fucking god that I don’t report you to the fucking police for all the criminal abuse you’ve inflicted!” My heart is racing and my skin is flushed. His hair is tousled from his violent fingers and his eyes are flaming, untamed infernos.
He takes a menacing step forward. “Oh, really? I’d like to see you try. You’re weak and broken.”
I mirror his dominance; challenging him. “You know that’s not true. You’re the one who’s broken. You’re responsible for your brother’s rape, you live in this crime ridden neighborhood and prey on me. Only a weak, sick person would torture someone as innocent as me.”
“Oh please,” his eyes flare and as he takes another step closer. “We both know you’re far from innocent.” His gaze travels slowly down my body, taking in my signature mini skirt and fishnet tights. I should feel self-conscious, but something in me loves the hungry look in his eyes.
“You’re disgusting,” I spit, although my tone disobeys me, sounding far from mad.
“Oh, really?” he asks again, taking another step towards me.
“Yes. I hate you.” I challenge him, again, mirroring his action; testing his advances.
“So do I. I hate the way you refuse to bend to anyone’s demands. I hate it when you test me and the look in your eyes as you try to conceal your fear. I hate it when you come to school with bruises that I didn’t give you and how it tears me up inside.”
The room suddenly feels hot and my warm sweater seems extensive. “Well, boo hoo for poor little Gerard Way. I don’t give a shit that I hurt your precious little feelings and your precious heart. I don’t give a single fuck to hear that it worried your pretty pale face.” I feel like I’m trying convince myself instead of him.
He swiftly closes the gap between us, stopping just an inch in front of me. His warm breath blows down to me. I defiantly tilt my head up to meet his gaze full on.
“You. Wish.”
His simple comeback shatters my strong front. I try desperately to come up with something to shoot back, but my breathe comes in short and my mind seems to have shut off.
“I don’t care about your constantly depressed feelings. I pay no mind to your beautiful yet forever frowning face. I ignore your bright red lipstick, your raven hair and how well they contrast.” He takes another step forward, bringing us closer, if that’s even possible. We’re practically sharing the same air; exchanging the same oxygen and carbon in a weirdly intimate way. I feel heat radiating off him, as if I need to be any hotter right now. “I never notice your creamy thick thighs and the way they catch everyone’s eye. All because I. Do. Not. Give. A. Shit. About. You.” I’m so caught by his words that I miss his hand suddenly placed on my hip; fingernails digging in slightly.
My eyes are glued to his blown hazel orbs. They lure me like a sailor to a siren; trapped even if wanted to get away.
But, I don’t. This connection is not one-sided.
My hand, like a flint striking a rock, stokes the flames between us when placed of his arm. Sparks fly, my bag falls unceremoniously to the ground. Our lips attach, acting like long separated twins; desperate to make up for their time apart.
One warm hand slides around to my thigh, guiding my leg up to his hip. My once depressed, slow moving neutrons fire up. The combination of his wet lips tracing down my neck to my collar bones and his fingers slowly inching up my raised thigh to squeeze my ass is as torturous as it is pleasurable. I can feel his teeth nip at the dip right above my left collar bone. It goes straight to my panties, striking another shot of desperation through me.
Horrible memories dance before my eyes. Clothes. Clothes off. I need to see his body, not my father’s. That’s all I’m able to think right now. I need him and only him. I want him to fuck the memories right out of me. I want his fingers to replace all the invisible marks from my father. I need them to leave me alone and I need his help.
I fist his already rumpled hair and bring his face back to mine. My eyes shoot open in surprise when his frosty hands slide under my sweater and pull it up over my head. His eyes flare with lust and excitement at my newly uncovered flesh.
I do the same to him; shedding his jean jacket, the most bulky item of clothing keeping us apart.
When our lips meet again, there’s a hungry need for each other behind the kiss. I’m fed up with our clothes; I need to feel his skin on mine, his skin inside me. While he starts, no doubt, covering my neck with hickeys, I scramble to pull his fleece lined hoodie and Jawbreaker tee over his head, which proves difficult when he’s reluctant to leave my neck, even for a second.
“Gee…” I whine. He complies, giving me a lopsided grin, once it’s over his head, that heats my core. He notices, pulls me close by the waist and presses a hand teasingly against my clit.
“Ah…!” A shocked whimper rushes through me. “Don’t tease me.” I command sternly, regaining my dominance by returning the favour, earning a delicious groan from him.
At the same time, we both reach for the waist bands of our lower garments. He wins first, tugging my tight skirt off my hips and circling an arm around my waist, making me step out of the discarded garment.
My hands, shaking with desperation, claw at his frustrating belt as he selfishly ignores my efforts, declining to help and instead opts to kiss a trail down my shoulder, nudging the collar of my Green Day tee that Frank gifted me with his pixie nose. Finally I drop his belt to join our other clothes on the floor.
“Lyn-z…” He growls into the hollow of my collarbone.
“Fuck, Gee, help me goddamit,” I command, breathily, caught off guard by my awarded nickname.
“Mhmmm…” He releases my neck so I can fully undo his pants. I sink to my knees to mouth his clothed cock. He moans sinfully and tangles my hair in his fist, turning me on incredibly. Pulling down his boxers, I take him slowly into my mouth. I have no clue what I’m doing but, judging by his groan and bucking hips, I’d say I’m doing something, good or not is to be determined. I swipe my tongue up the underside of his dick where a large vein pushes back against me.
Nightmare visions of my father flash before my blown eyes staring up at Gerard while he uses my mouth. I squeeze my eyes shut trying to block out the images and focus on Gerard.
He seems to notice my sudden dip in mood and strokes my cheek while comforting me with gentle words. “Hey, hey, look at me. Gerard. I’m here. You’re with me; Gerard.” Rage shoots through me at the thought of my father, constantly ruining-my life even when not present. “Let’s just slow d-.”
I cut him off, removing him from my mouth. “No.” Gerard. I need him. Now.
He seems reluctant but my mouth around him again seems to convince him and he goes to pull me up muttering, “Fuck, I fucking love your mouth.”
“God Gee, j-just fucking fuck me. C’mon, I need your cock in me. Now.” I whine shamelessly like a little kid begging for candy. He kisses me forcefully, probably bruising my lips, something I find myself loving.
“Yes, god, yes. Harder…” I claw fiercely at his hips, trying to bring us closer, and grind onto his hard member. He grips my ass tight in his warm hands, adding to my boiling inner core. He goes to rip my fishnets off but I stop him, remembering that I have a very limited amount of decent clothing for this extremely cold winter. We fumble together with my fishnets, both our shoes and underclothes. He’s careful to avoid my left breast while groping and squeezing my clothed chest, aware of the healing from the cuts I carved.
I sigh and realize we’ve migrated further into the room. All limbs and lips, clashing and fighting through our delirious, lust-filled minds.
“Oh, god Lyn-z…” He mutters in between kisses.
“Yes, yes. Say my name… I-I’m not h-his…” I mumble not really making sense but just kind of letting words flow from my mouth.
“No.” He states firmly, agreeing with me and trying to help. “You’re Lindsey. You’re your own person, acting r-right now with your own consent.”
“Mhmm,” I’m starting to become putty in his hands. Melting into his every touch, we’re both desperate for each other, practically trying to meld our bodies into one. “Gee…c-condom…” I suddenly remember that important tool.
“Oh god…” he reluctantly pulls away and strains trying to reach a basket under the coffee table while still holding onto me. When he comes back up, I see that he neglected to actually put the protection on, instead, apparently, electing to return to me before any more lost time. Man, he’s almost more desperate than me.
I let him take the lead. His hands reach around to the back of my legs, sliding seductively up to my thighs then my ass, until he’s full-on gripping it, holding me tight against him. We crash against the wall, me underneath him, kissing passionately. I rake my hands through his silky hair, tugging and pulling softly which earns satisfying groans of pleasure from him. His strong arms flex as he lifts me off the ground, guiding my legs to wrap around his defined hips. Our mouths move perfectly in sync, pressing hard against each other. His are silky soft and smooth, yet his kisses are hard and fast, like he’s dying of thirst and I’m his water. Suddenly his member moves from poking against my stomach as he lines himself up with my entrance.
We pull away and stare into each other’s eyes, silently checking that we’re both ready. His eyes are blown wide in a savage-like manner and I nod furiously, whispering into the velvet shell of his ear, “Fuck me.”
I moan obscenely and press my hands firmly into his back as he finally impales me on his hard cock. His growl is fiercely animalistic, breath gliding across my collarbone. My hands travel up around his neck into the back of his hair, raking through it and then slide back to his shoulder blades. I pull my arms back and slide them under his arms to his hips, squeezing and releasing as waves of pleasure wash over me.
I’ve never felt so alive. It’s like my body is electric, in a good way. My pain has vanished from my earlier beating and pathetic excuse of a night’s rest, instead a foreign, but pleasant, tingling feeling spreads over my skin.
“Oh, fuck, harder, harder!” He complies, starting a rough pace.
My head falls back against the wall, his leaning in to nuzzle the crook of my neck; a place I’m learning he loves just as much as I do. Tiny teeth nip at my skin.
Our sweat covered thighs slap together loudly, my head knocks against the wall painfully, but I don’t have the energy, concentration or strength to care.
He’s completely in control and for some reason I love it. All thoughts of my mistakes, all my injuries, all my sadness, retreat to the back of my mind. I let the sensation of his thrusts, in and out, in and out, consume me. For now Gerard is there for me. Whether in a healthy way or not, I don’t know and don’t really care. All I know is that in this moment, right here, having sex with Gerard, is what I need. His hands digging into the fat of my thighs and his breathy grunts of pleasure in my ear, is all I want, all I have. And, I think, that’s okay.
The pulsing, intense heat his cock is doing to my core is the best feeling I’ve ever felt. So what if we’re using each other? So what if what we’re doing is exactly the wrong kind of therapy I need? Why start caring about my wellbeing now, after 17 years of abuse?
“Mmmm, fuck, keep making those beautiful sounds.” His words have the opposite reaction out of me though. Brought out of my train of thoughts, I worry I’m being too loud and try to suppress my moans and groans. He laughs against my skin and seems to take it as a challenge.
He licks my jaw down to my collarbone where he settles for a bit, choosing a spot and focusing on it, biting and sucking, licking every so often. I feel the blood rise to that spot and I know I’ll have a huge hickey, but I remain defiant and don’t make any loud sounds. He groans and moves onto my earlobe. Caught off guard, I gasp as he takes it between his teeth, rolling it around and sucking.
“C’mon, baby…for me.” He whispers seductively. I can’t help it; I give in and let out a sinful moan. “Yes…so goddamn sexy…” He sighs. His hands travel back down to my thighs squeezing harshly, and if he hadn’t already left marks, I sure they’ll make an appearance now, but they’re bruises I find myself wanting to bear. His mouth slowly moves back to mine but I get impatient and use my hands to guide it back, gripping his cheeks. He chuckles against my lips. I arch my back, craving to feel closer to him and he gets the message. Slipping one hand around to the small of my back and one supporting my ass, he walks us over to a disgusting looking couch that actually isn’t as uncomfortable as it looks.
He lays down, setting me to rest on top of his sweaty torso. It’s not as good of an angle, but we’re both already too close to the end to need thatmuch more to finish. I lean up for a moment to pull my shirt and bra off. The feeling of us being chest to chest is a lot more comforting than I would’ve anticipated.
His upwards thrusts start to stutter; I know he’s coming to the end soon. Snaking a hand between our bodies, I rub my clit, wanting to finish with him.
“Gee, please... Say me name,” words roll off my tongue without even thinking. Begging and pleading, demanding…I have no clue what I mean.
Nonetheless, he answers, “Lindsey,” he breathes my name like it’s a work of art. “Oh, Lyn-z…”
“Ger…gee… Ger-ARD!” My finish happens all the sudden; my name on his lips obviously had more of an effect on me than I had anticipated.
He follows right after me, groaning low and long into my hair. I feel the burst of his seed shoot into the condom.
His hips stay pushed against mine, rising off the couch slightly, while the ecstasy consumes us both. Slowing they lower and we both breathe a drawn out sigh. My face buries into the welcoming spot between his muscular shoulders and his neck. His stubbly chin is tucked atop my head, his slowing breath blowing cool air across my neck to ghost over my naked back.
A sudden shiver wracks my body, the cold atmosphere finally settling on my drying sweat. Despite my reluctance to leave his warm body even for a second, he lifts me by my hips and slips out of me, then lays me back down, ties the condom off, sets it down and then wraps his arms around me.
I take back my earlier claim, that his thrusts were the best feeling I’d ever encountered, this, this right here, just laying against Gerard’s warm chest with his strong arms encompassing me, this takes the cake.
Even though it’s still early morning, my eyelids feel heavy. A satisfied, content energy fills the room. I shuffle down his body slightly to stretch my legs between his, with our hips aligned despite the fact that my legs are longer. One arm reaches up and entangles itself in his hair, the other is tucked underneath his hold. My head rests, again, right under his chin.
I feel him move slightly before a warm blanket is dropped atop our knotted bodies.
A gentle kiss against my forehead is the last thing I feel before my mind gives out and the bad night sleep I had yesterday catches up with me.

Notes

So, what do you think? I rewrote this chapter about 3 times but I'm finally happy with the end product.
Give me feedback, do you guys like my story at all?
xox
writing2savelives