We Are So Far From You

Chapter 1

I walked off the door step as I recognized the roar of Ray's Volvo increasing down the road. The car was a piece of junk, but Ray insisted that it was his baby; no one was going to make him depart from it. Bob always got a ride with Ray, but being of the gloomy clouds above, I decided I would accompany them. It was an occurrence that was extended to more then an occasional thing, New Jersey was famous for rainy days. So much so, I was given a ride to school by Ray at least twice a week.

Can't complain, though, I loved walking. It gave me an onsite to what goes on, but sometimes it's better if I don't, horrible things get on here. Once I witnessed a murder, I told no one; it was the murder of Sidney Thomson. They found her body afloat in a nearby lake, a week prior to the witnessing of Gerard. That seemingly never ending topic, Gerard, why does anybody care anyway, but I'm one to exhaust his name, I can't speak like I don't talk, that'd be hypocritical. How come a person who had became insignificant, got the most attention? Even more, a person who'd never earned the engrossment of the town, he'd merely sat in his basement.

A particularly rigid gust of air blew past me, Ray's Volvo screeching to a halt, a low grumble being heard through the crack of the car's window, bellowing to me to get in. It was Bob; speaking through that one window that would never roll up completely, nor did Ray have the money to fix it. He'd be better buying a new car anyway. It broke last summer when Ray was giving a ride to Jamia Nestor, the former girl infatuated with me. Ray got to her humble abode, but told her as she got out that I was not as interested as she'd hoped, slamming his door with a force Ray explained as 'hulk like'. He got a broken window and a thousand apologies from me; I made him interfere with our love life, as if we'd ever have one.

I sat in the back of the car, humming along to the static mess that was Ray's radio, a rattle from the broken window intermittently messing up my vocals.

My initial humming proceeded to a mumble of each song that aired on the old radio. At least Ray received decent stations through the bent antenna on the hood of the beat up Volvo. How, I could not fathom, though it was probably from all the love that Ray had for the hunk of metal. Things seemed to be quiet pleasant, he was blessed with a aurora of upbeat emotion, being the only happy hair ball I've witnessed. His fro was a sight to behold. I don't dare try to infiltrate the ball of hair atop his head, though I do wonder what he did to obtain such a magnificent head of hair.

"So," Ray started, intervening my low singing, "I have an idea." That got Bob and I's attention, Ray wasn't much for idea composing, he'd follow us around like a guard dog, going by our commands. Though, he did butt in occasionally, putting in his opinions, usually keeping us from dangers. "We should prank it again," Ray squealed, not manly in the slightest. We knew what 'it' was, it was him, thoughts of him came back once more- Gerard Way.

Why he was a recurrent nightmare, plaguing my mind, was beyond my understanding. He was always there, the gleaming of the blood-coated knife blinking in the back of my mind constantly. It was like a sickness that's incurable, it's there, always there- no getting rid of it.

Although a huge portion of me doesn't want to, he's the insufferable chunk in my head, yet i still crave more. Just the fact that he inhabits a basement and is an introvert to the max, makes him prominent next to anyone in Belleville, New Jersey. The murder rumors, the reported death threats he gave, might be more attractable to some, but those were gossip stories told by old women in hair saloons. But i did have proof that he has a bloody knife down with him.

"What are we going to do," I said in an over-excited tone, the mere thought of catching a glimpse of him again made my blood run sickeningly fast. Maybe he will see me, or maybe- we might talk. I can imagine his voice to be slurred due to his minimal human contact, can he communicate at all? Doubtful, but i was curious to know.

"Break his window, Iero, then we slip a letter through." The entrails of the letter, Ray didn't know, he left it up to me to write it.

I was enthralled by the very thought, maybe I could get him out, just possibly. He, Gerard, couldn't hide forever, I felt some kind of pull. Well, more of a drag, it felt like he was dragging me in forcefully. He may not know me nor does he know my friends, but he was attracting me in, may it be the basement he resides in or the fact he has no human interaction on a daily basis, I'm being pulled in.

I was already writing the letter in my head, should I be rude? Nice? He deserves kindness since he hasn't seen much people. But if the murders were possibly him, what would he do to us.

I get lost into my thoughts, by the time I've snapped out of it Ray had already parked into his reserved spot. Everyone that drove knew never to take his spot, he would never do anything and that was just it- Ray was the sweetest person that lived in New Jersey. No one would even think about hurting poor sweet innocent Ray. It was a bonus to us three, considering that the spot was right in front of the school.

We walked up the highschool stairs and went to our individual lockers, completely off from each other. Let the day of hell begin!