Chalk Outline

5: World So Cold

It was horrible.

He didn't know what had caused it, though, he had a rough idea. The feeling was aching in his chest, feeling as if someone was crushing his ribs. Each cough hurt more than the last. Gripping the sides of the surface, he leaned over the sink and stared at himself in the foggy mirror. Taking a shower had made him feel a little better. (The shower they had on the tour bus wasn't the best, it was barely used and it was small, but Gerard couldn't stand being dirty any longer, hence the hot shower.)

After feeling dizzy, he had stepped out and tied a towel around his waist, then his chest had started aching like nothing he had felt before -not that bad anyway.

Now, he was shaking all over, scared of what he had just brought up. To cough he'd shut his eyes, however, when he had opened them, he hadn't expected anything quite like it. It was troubling him, sending him to dark places in his thoughts. Nothing good could come of it.

There was blood in the sink.

Perhaps, he just had a normal nose bleed. Though, he would have known because he had been studying his face in the mirror for some time. So, he was terrified.

Deciding to forget about it, Gerard turned the tap on, washing the evidence away. Maybe he had imagined it. Making himself believe that was the logical and correct answer, he gathered his dirty clothes and walked over to a carrier bag, the one which meant he had to wash whatever was in there later. Gerard picked out some clean clothes: ripped skinny jeans, black shirt, black suit jacket and a red tie.

Just as he was about to get changed, Frank appeared behind him. The singer had thought they had all left when Bob had told him they were all going out. His back was to the guitarist, Gerard knew he had seen it now.

"Gerard. . ." Frank gasped quietly, staring at his friend in shock. To the left on his back was a mark; colours of yellow, blue and purple swirled together, forming a bruise. "What happened?"

Words failed to form a proper sentence as Gerard stumbled around, picking up his clothes in one hand and holding the towel around his waist with the other. "I-I. . . Nothing. I fell." His face turned red as he became even more embarrassed and nervous as he stood there. "I fell and knocked m-myself on the corner of the table." He lied, pivoting on his heel to face Frank, who had his arms crossed over his chest, but a look of sadness on his features.

"Are you sure? Don't lie to me." The guitarist pleaded, stepping a little closer to Gerard, who shuffled backwards, fearing what was to happen next.

"I-I'm sure. It was an accident." The singer stuttered, nodding his head. "I have to-to get dressed. Please, Frank." He whimpered, hugging his clothes closer to his chest as if he were protecting something, or, most likely, himself.

Sighing, Frank scratched the back of his head and stepped away from Gerard, who instantly rushed off again to hide.

He was angry.

The guitarist knew perfectly well that Gerard was lying, that he was hiding something behind closed doors. Things such as that, couldn't afford to stay a secret. He was going to have to start demanding answers. The whole situation was growing ridiculous.

~

Their stay was coming to an end and frankly, non of them wanted to go back to New Jersey. Even though life on the road and living in a bus was hard, they all still enjoyed it -some a little more than others. Performing every other day was a wonderful feeling and gave them a sense of accomplishment, that maybe, just maybe, they had saved a life up there. Gerard had said at the start, that he wanted to change lives for the better with the music they created. And the other band members had agreed. They too, hoped that their music would capture the attention of someone and possibly make their lives a little bit better.