|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Wake Up :Frerard: 1"Mom! Dad! No! You can't leave me!"
I bolted up in my bed, my breathing coming out in sharp ragged huffs. My throat was raw from my unconscious sobbing and my face was slick with tears. I ran a hand through my hair which was sticky with sweat. I let out a sigh after a few deep breaths. "Just a dream Just a dream," I muttered to myself.
But it wasn't. No matter how many times I woke up, my parents were still dead. My parents still died in a car accident. My little brother Mikey and I were sitting in the back. I was trying to keep Mikey in his seatbelt when it happened. A semi-truck had burst into the intersection and hit the front of the car. And only the front of the car. My parents died, and I couldn't do anything to stop it.
I was seventeen then; Mikey two. Now, five years later, I was in custody of Mikey. I had made it my job to take care of him and give him the life he deserved.
There was a soft knock on my d
What If We Didn't Know- Chapter One
"Fucking finally!" Frank hollered, slamming the front door of his house open and parading inside. "Summer didn't come soon fucking enough."
I laughed, following after him and dropping my bag on the floor next to the couch. "Jesus Franklin, watch your fucking language!" I mock-scolded.
"Both of y'all need to watch your mouths," Gerard drawled from behind us, and I turned to see a smirk adorning his face. "This is no place for such vile obscenities."
Frank raised an eyebrow at him. "My house, my rules," he stated, then stuck his tongue out. "So go make love to a fruit cake or something."
Gerard chuckled and draped his arm over my shoulder. "How come you didn't bitch at Mikey-Mike when when he told you to shut up but I got told to violate a dessert?"
"Because I like Mikey better," Frank retorted, crossing his arms and plopping down on the sofa.
"Well I like Mikey better too," Gerard laughed in my ear, his arm sliding down to my waist to give me a quick squeeze. I felt myself blushing slig
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
Keep in Touch!