Chipped Black Nail Polish
folder
My Chemical Romance › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
2,760
Reviews:
19
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
My Chemical Romance › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
2,760
Reviews:
19
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of My Chemical Romance. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
You're My Drug
Disclaimer: You know I don't own them, right? If not, you're dellusional. Evanescense owns the song.
Chipped Black Nail Polish
Part Six: You're My Drug
You can't escape
You don't want to escape
I'm not afraid of you talking. I'm not even afraid of you not coming home. I'm like a drug. No matter how bad I am for you, you need more.
I have to put my coffee down. My hands are shaking. I can't remember the last time I was alone in this house, the last time you weren't in my line of sight. I go to the bathroom and wash my face before going to the bedroom and changing my clothes. Mundane tasks, task to keep my mind off you.
Now I'm wondering who's the dealer and who's the addict.
You don't understand the power you have over me. If you left . . . if you told them and they took you away from me. You don't understand how much that would kill me inside. It hurts me so badly to hurt you, but there's no other way but fear to guarantee this bind between us. You always wonder if today will be the day I say I love you or the day I won't hit you.
And the moment you stop fearing me is the moment you'll realize you can leave. And you will. You'll realize what I did was wrong, realize that there are other people who won't treat you like I do.
If they say something to you . . . sometimes you're so easily swayed. Sometimes you'll believe anything with those big innocent eyes. Your hands twisting as if you're trying to hold onto the last strands of whatever is slipping from your grasp. The threads of us. Will they rip it from your hands?
Now I'm terrified. I go to the phone and punch in his number.
"Hello?" he asks after the third ring.
"Hey. Have you seen Frank today?" I keep my voice level, but touched with a hint of worry and concern. "I think he may have taken something last night."
He hesitates and that's all the answer I need. "No." he says. If he hadn't hesitated I may have bought it. "I haven't, but if I see him, I'll bring him home, all right?"
"Okay." I hang up the phone. If you live with someone for twenty years you know what they sound like when they lie. Gerard was never good at it.
I'll give you an hour. You'll know who called and I want you to squirm.
I go to the fridge and pull out a bottle of vodka, filling a glass and adding water from the kitchen sink. I can't even count the drinks I pour.
---
*Cue lame dramatic music*
Chipped Black Nail Polish
Part Six: You're My Drug
You can't escape
You don't want to escape
I'm not afraid of you talking. I'm not even afraid of you not coming home. I'm like a drug. No matter how bad I am for you, you need more.
I have to put my coffee down. My hands are shaking. I can't remember the last time I was alone in this house, the last time you weren't in my line of sight. I go to the bathroom and wash my face before going to the bedroom and changing my clothes. Mundane tasks, task to keep my mind off you.
Now I'm wondering who's the dealer and who's the addict.
You don't understand the power you have over me. If you left . . . if you told them and they took you away from me. You don't understand how much that would kill me inside. It hurts me so badly to hurt you, but there's no other way but fear to guarantee this bind between us. You always wonder if today will be the day I say I love you or the day I won't hit you.
And the moment you stop fearing me is the moment you'll realize you can leave. And you will. You'll realize what I did was wrong, realize that there are other people who won't treat you like I do.
If they say something to you . . . sometimes you're so easily swayed. Sometimes you'll believe anything with those big innocent eyes. Your hands twisting as if you're trying to hold onto the last strands of whatever is slipping from your grasp. The threads of us. Will they rip it from your hands?
Now I'm terrified. I go to the phone and punch in his number.
"Hello?" he asks after the third ring.
"Hey. Have you seen Frank today?" I keep my voice level, but touched with a hint of worry and concern. "I think he may have taken something last night."
He hesitates and that's all the answer I need. "No." he says. If he hadn't hesitated I may have bought it. "I haven't, but if I see him, I'll bring him home, all right?"
"Okay." I hang up the phone. If you live with someone for twenty years you know what they sound like when they lie. Gerard was never good at it.
I'll give you an hour. You'll know who called and I want you to squirm.
I go to the fridge and pull out a bottle of vodka, filling a glass and adding water from the kitchen sink. I can't even count the drinks I pour.
---
*Cue lame dramatic music*