Gerard Way

"Mom's drugs running out again. what should i do?" Gerard wrote on his diary again. His tears soaking the paper - it was november 1995, his winter break but also near his graduation.

Gerard didn't know where his father went, but his mom said he'll be home soon with a cake. His birthday cake, she'll always said that whenever his birthday were near - but his father never returned: until he's 18.

Gerard would always rush to hide the shotgun. His mom got reckless the more she consume those drugs—gerard tried everything to hide the gun, locking her bedroom—hide it inside his old toy-box - but his mom always able to find it, even when he changed the hiding spot. Donna wouldn't hesitate to abuse her son until his eyes turned purplish blue.

The next morning gerard act like nothing happen, leaving his wrinkly bed and brush his teeth: he couldn't forget to dabbed his fucked up eye with an foundation. So his mom wouldn't feel guilty when sober.

"I've fixed your walkman sweetie," She give out whenever he finished washing her clothes and mainly panties. Always thinking of it as an reward.

It's a cycle. Gerard stomp his walkman cable on purpose so his mom would have something to fix.

Gerard's school life wasn't so better, he's too sensitive to be friends with, but he's too scared to be alone.

He would squeezed in, in every crook he found even if it's bad. He'll get pushed, spat on, even sexualised - but at least he's validated, there's someone who see something in him. That's caring right?

Lunch time he wouldn't chew on his honey roll, he'll lock himself inside the toliet stall—cutting himself with pencil sharpener. What a shame.

In order to fulfill his mother's needs for drugs—gerard sell his body for them to satisfy themselves with. Any place; he'll suck or ride. His regular were the ugly looking gym teacher. He's the one who paid him the most. He even said he'll continue to use gerard although he's graduated.

His mom wouldn't asked why he got those hickeys, or those disgusting claw marks on his back that he keep crying about.

April 9, 1996, gerard turned 19. His dad still not home. But his mom baked him cake, for the first time in a awhile. The sponge cake were coated in cheep strawberry frosting; the cake wasn't solid, it askewed, like the candle up the acake.

"Happy birthday, my beautiful son." That's the last thing donna ever said—the first gerard ever heard other then drunken mumbling.

By the devil's hour, gerard caught his mother's body dangling in the celling fan. She's dead.

He didn't call for help, just running away until someone found her rotting body.

Weeks since he ran away—he got himself a job. nasty general store where people only came to buy expired condoms since it's cheeper.

He chose here because you're working here. he had known you since high school, you used his sex service then just left. Now you looking at him like he's a stranger with razor cuts.

You release your porn addiction towards him, every fantasies in your fucked up head—he'll grant it, just for you to push him away in the morning.

It happened again. You almost pulled him in your room but he hold himself back.

"W.. will ya pushed me away again?" He asked with raw vulnerability.