That Tattoo Guy (MCR Fanfic)

The Abyss. (Chapter 20 Part 2)

The Abyss. (Chapter 20  Part2)

“Hey kiddy kiddy… come out to play!” They sing in that horrific haunting way, I can hear them getting closer and closer along with the tapping of feet, harder and faster. I don’t know how they can catch me up, how my wheezing breath rattles in my chest and my legs feel like they are going to give out. I had been a sick child, constantly ill with a weak immune system; I had my brush with fate trying my first cigarette and now I am hooked it’s killing me drag by drag. I keep running with them on my tail, a few blocks pass but they don’t give up, I go to look over my shoulder as I turn onto a new street.

But then a pain shoots through my legs, my ankle twists and I crumble to the floor feeling my body skid on the gravel, it cuts into my hands into my skins and knee’s along my whole body like tiny knives embedding into my skin.

With heavy breaths I feel a large weight on top of me pinning me down and the sweaty scent over powering me again, “Now, Faggy Frank, no need to run. We just want to play.” He growls at me, I knew this day would come, I knew he’d get back at me for defending Gerard.  His large grimy hand finds its way into my hair before I feel his hand run down my back and then up the back of my shirt, I recoil and squirm trying to kick him off before I feel the sole of a boot come down on my cheek pressing it to the gravel holding me down like a fish they’re about to kill. I now know what it felt like when me and pop went fishing, how terrified and vulnerable I felt knowing the inevitable before we bashed them over the head until we could feel their hearts stop or their eyes popped out. And then they stand over me, I see them from the corner of my eye trying to move my head away but all I can do is bite my teeth together as a sudden blow comes to my ribs, they fire at my side, stomach and legs adding more pain to my already torn, grazed and bleeding body. I try to move but I can’t, I try to fight but my body won’t let me. They attack me with such hard and heavy blows I panic that these may be my last moments. That I may die with blood, puke and a sweat piss and booze mix coated on my body; that I may die not telling him how I really feel.

Then I hear a belt. The beating I could take, it wasn’t the first but the idea of losing my guy virginity reluctantly wasn’t the top of my list of ways to be found dead.

“Hey! Leave the kid alone! I’ve called the cops!” I hear from above, realising we are between a block of apartments and a few lights cast our shadows across the building.

“F*ck. Let’s just go.” I hear the other guy slur and stumble away.

Doing up his belt buckle, the jock who had stared into my eyes only days ago grabs my hair to pay his final respects. “You tell a word to anyone, I will kill you next time, and believe me there will be a next time.” He spits in my face as he smashes my head back onto the pavement.

They leave and I’m left cold. I hope to hear the sirens in the distance but don’t, I don’t hear anything until I start to see the sunrise and I will my body to stumble onto bruised, bleeding legs.

I clutch my sides hating the stinging pain that shoots through me, my clothes have gashes taken out of them from my fall blood seeps through them making the black turn to brown. I walk the few blocks I know I have left till I reach home, my feet drag and my body aches I hold back the sickening feeling that starts to crawl up my throat. I promise myself if I make it home I would get to school, I would see him and I would grow the balls to talk to him- I had an idea, I had my pain rolled up into one- the rumour of his waiting doom and my own thoughts of self-sacrifice; I wanted a piece of art and when it came my time I wanted to die with a piece of him forever tattooed into my DNA.

When I reach home I make my way into the bathroom, my house empty at the early hour. I pick out the stones imbedded into my flesh, I almost sob at the pain of blood running into the shower and feel my legs tremble from keeping my body up right. I settled back against the tile of the shower feeling the hot steaming water before I began to scrub at my skin with a fury, the white pale flesh still sore from previous showers but I scrubbed harder deeper till my skin burned and the blood hit the surface forming burgundy speckles although I still felt like every pore was filled with dirt and grime; their touch still infested in my skin. This is where I cry. I let my tears run into the ripples of the hot water and my sobs to rack my body as I scratch and scrub. With every tear I feel like the water pushes it away and hides the evidence, it covers my betrayal to myself to my promise I would never cry again because crying never got anybody anywhere, no one cared or bothered, no one wanted to hear your problems, crying was pathetic and showed weakness. In the confines of the shower stall it was me and the water, water didn’t know me it just washed away as easy as that- it could never carry away my problems but it could mask my emotions just for a while before I had to step out and face reality.

The guy I see in the mirror isn’t me anymore, thin and pale, my ribs poke out, my porcelain skin marred red, my bones poking through the skin dangerously, my blue veins jumping with my pulse under the skin… my eyes. My deep olive green eyes turn a cold dull murky green hollow and empty. They look too big for my thin skeletal face, my lips a shocking red from constantly biting them, my hair a dull brown with no life left in its limp wet state tangled across my forehead. I looked like a corpse and for some reason I liked it. I didn’t like seeing myself so broken but at the same time I felt like I deserved it. I deserved to be as broken on the outside as I felt on the inside. My eyes bore into the ones in the glass, staring into the deep black soulless orbs, it was like looking into an everlasting cycle of a black hole- an abyss.