Shut Up && Play -- Frank Iero Fanfiction

[disaster notes.]

<div align="center">Current Graphic (You can make me some!!):

Made by Darko at Pandorascloset


www.freewebs.com/switchbladefightsx

Check out my Freeweb for story, character, and setting info! (Could be useful when I lack vivid description...)

Current Chapters:
00 | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21
Total Chapters (Possible):
25 including epilogue?
--------------------------------------------</div>

Prologue

I pushed the razor into my skin, seeing the blood peek from around the razor and slip down the sides of my wrist, a droplet of crimson on the white tile of my bathroom floor. I sighed as I pulled the razor along my wrist, lengthening the cut. More blood. It gushed from my wrists, rivers of angst. I took the razor from that cut and placed it on another section of my wrist. I cut again. Deep and long. I gave sighs and sobs of relief. I felt ... alive. I felt ... exhilarated. It may sound odd, but I honestly felt as if I could fly at the very moment. Cut after cut after cut. Finally, I dropped the razor onto my sink, the blood staining the virgin-colored porcelain.

But ... I felt faint and weak. My knees felt as if they could give out on me. Seeing my bathroom swim before my eyes, I wondered just how much blood I had lost. Maybe I had cut too deep. Involuntarily, I fell to my knees and slumped over, my breathing coming in hard, quick gasps. I watched as the blood from my wrist poured onto the floor. As the blood filled the gaps between the tiles, flowing downwards on the slightly uneven ground.

Is this what it's like to die? I guess it's not so bad. My vision was going darker, unclear, fuzzy around the corners. I kind of liked this tunnel-vision. Maybe tt really wasn't that bad.

I didn't want this.
I wanted to know what it was like to feel alive. To feel something, anything.

Even if it was pain.

I never wanted this. Not in a million years.

I tried to count the cuts on my wrists. There were too many. Why did I put so many there? I'll tell you now, God -- I ain't that bright of a girl. Was I even going to go to heaven? Maybe this counted as suicide. That was a sin. But ... I didn’t mean to kill myself. Hell, am I even Catholic anymore?

The bright white tiles on my floor was slowly fading to a dull black. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I closed them, slowly and painfully. I kept trying to keep them open. I tried to push myself from the floor. My arm barely moved, and it killed. I felt another gush of blood come from my cuts.

Maybe dying really wasn’t so bad.[/b]

[disaster notes.]

<div align="center">Current Graphic (You can make me some!!):

Made by Darko at Pandorascloset


www.freewebs.com/switchbladefightsx

Check out my Freeweb for story, character, and setting info! (Could be useful when I lack vivid description...)

Current Chapters:
00 | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21
Total Chapters (Possible):
25 including epilogue?
--------------------------------------------</div>

Prologue

I pushed the razor into my skin, seeing the blood peek from around the razor and slip down the sides of my wrist, a droplet of crimson on the white tile of my bathroom floor. I sighed as I pulled the razor along my wrist, lengthening the cut. More blood. It gushed from my wrists, rivers of angst. I took the razor from that cut and placed it on another section of my wrist. I cut again. Deep and long. I gave sighs and sobs of relief. I felt ... alive. I felt ... exhilarated. It may sound odd, but I honestly felt as if I could fly at the very moment. Cut after cut after cut. Finally, I dropped the razor onto my sink, the blood staining the virgin-colored porcelain.

But ... I felt faint and weak. My knees felt as if they could give out on me. Seeing my bathroom swim before my eyes, I wondered just how much blood I had lost. Maybe I had cut too deep. Involuntarily, I fell to my knees and slumped over, my breathing coming in hard, quick gasps. I watched as the blood from my wrist poured onto the floor. As the blood filled the gaps between the tiles, flowing downwards on the slightly uneven ground.

Is this what it's like to die? I guess it's not so bad. My vision was going darker, unclear, fuzzy around the corners. I kind of liked this tunnel-vision. Maybe tt really wasn't that bad.

I didn't want this.
I wanted to know what it was like to feel alive. To feel something, anything.

Even if it was pain.

I never wanted this. Not in a million years.

I tried to count the cuts on my wrists. There were too many. Why did I put so many there? I'll tell you now, God -- I ain't that bright of a girl. Was I even going to go to heaven? Maybe this counted as suicide. That was a sin. But ... I didn’t mean to kill myself. Hell, am I even Catholic anymore?

The bright white tiles on my floor was slowly fading to a dull black. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I closed them, slowly and painfully. I kept trying to keep them open. I tried to push myself from the floor. My arm barely moved, and it killed. I felt another gush of blood come from my cuts.

Maybe dying really wasn’t so bad.[/b]

[disaster notes.]

<div align="center">Current Graphic (You can make me some!!):

Made by Darko at Pandorascloset


www.freewebs.com/switchbladefightsx

Check out my Freeweb for story, character, and setting info! (Could be useful when I lack vivid description...)

Current Chapters:
00 | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21
Total Chapters (Possible):
25 including epilogue?
--------------------------------------------</div>

Prologue

I pushed the razor into my skin, seeing the blood peek from around the razor and slip down the sides of my wrist, a droplet of crimson on the white tile of my bathroom floor. I sighed as I pulled the razor along my wrist, lengthening the cut. More blood. It gushed from my wrists, rivers of angst. I took the razor from that cut and placed it on another section of my wrist. I cut again. Deep and long. I gave sighs and sobs of relief. I felt ... alive. I felt ... exhilarated. It may sound odd, but I honestly felt as if I could fly at the very moment. Cut after cut after cut. Finally, I dropped the razor onto my sink, the blood staining the virgin-colored porcelain.

But ... I felt faint and weak. My knees felt as if they could give out on me. Seeing my bathroom swim before my eyes, I wondered just how much blood I had lost. Maybe I had cut too deep. Involuntarily, I fell to my knees and slumped over, my breathing coming in hard, quick gasps. I watched as the blood from my wrist poured onto the floor. As the blood filled the gaps between the tiles, flowing downwards on the slightly uneven ground.

Is this what it's like to die? I guess it's not so bad. My vision was going darker, unclear, fuzzy around the corners. I kind of liked this tunnel-vision. Maybe tt really wasn't that bad.

I didn't want this.
I wanted to know what it was like to feel alive. To feel something, anything.

Even if it was pain.

I never wanted this. Not in a million years.

I tried to count the cuts on my wrists. There were too many. Why did I put so many there? I'll tell you now, God -- I ain't that bright of a girl. Was I even going to go to heaven? Maybe this counted as suicide. That was a sin. But ... I didn’t mean to kill myself. Hell, am I even Catholic anymore?

The bright white tiles on my floor was slowly fading to a dull black. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I closed them, slowly and painfully. I kept trying to keep them open. I tried to push myself from the floor. My arm barely moved, and it killed. I felt another gush of blood come from my cuts.

Maybe dying really wasn’t so bad.[/b]

[façade]

hehe, i'm glad you started a new iero fanfic. :]]

ahh, i'm loving the descriptions. it's so prettyy.

nice beginning, update soon! :]]

[façade]

hehe, i'm glad you started a new iero fanfic. :]]

ahh, i'm loving the descriptions. it's so prettyy.

nice beginning, update soon! :]]

[façade]

hehe, i'm glad you started a new iero fanfic. :]]

ahh, i'm loving the descriptions. it's so prettyy.

nice beginning, update soon! :]]

[disaster notes.]

Chapter 1

“Thompson, Kaity?” A cheery voice called, peering into the crowd of f_ck-ups and mishaps. I was situated somewhere in the middle, blending in quite well. The young woman peered into the crowd as I stood and squeeze in between chairs, trying not to bump my bandaged wrist on any of them.

I waved my hands at her slightly, showing that I was here and just as f_cked-up as the other people. I waved the hand that had to pinkish gauze.

“Hello, honey. We’re gonna take you down back so you can pick up the bed sheets and pillows and you can go and get settled. We already brought your luggage.” She smiled, revealing pearly white teeth that gleamed under the ugly florescent lights. I nodded at her as she turned on her heels and motioned for me to follow her.

We left the main room and walked down a small hallway into a back closet where she grabbed a couple of sheets from the shelves and handed me two pillows.

“No pillowcases, honey, in case you try and hide something in there. There’s a daily bed-sheet check, too.” She told her, flashing me those teeth again as she dumped the load in my waiting arms. Her teeth made me nauseous.

Couldn’t I easily hide something inside the pillow? But I kept my mouth shut. I was an empty void. A doll without a mouth. A soul without a tongue. She turned me around so I was facing the door again. A man, who was bald with a gold earring, smiled at her.

“Thanks, Martha.” He said in a deep, booming voice.

“No problem. She’s room 217.” She informed him, squeezing out of the room and walking back down the hallway, calling in another poor soul.

The man motioned for me to follow him. We turned down a few more hallways until we were in the main ward. There were rooms on either side, the glass textured so nothing could be seen. On the glass were large, thick black numbers. Some of them looked like eyes. Some looked by angry faces. I almost giggled at them. But I kept my mouth shut, as if my tongue had been cut out

He stopped in front of 217, taking out a key to open the door.

“Here are some rules,” the man began, “Your door is only locked after lights out. During the day, it’s always open. Expect a daily check of you bed and suitcases. The girls bathrooms are down the hall here, turn to your left. There's a daily shower period. Yes, it's mandatory. There's no shaving here. If you want something removed, go and see the hospital wing, and the nurse will remove it for you. No razors, you hear me.?” He asked and I nodded feebly. I felt like a child.

“No sleeping in others rooms. We do daily checks every night. Laundry is done once per week. Someone will come around and collect it. Later on today, someone will come by with a schedule of all your meetings and activities. Clear?”

I nodded once more, my eyes glazed over from boredom. I hadn’t really listened to all of that. But the bald man looked satisfied, and he backed away from the door and began to walk down the hallway.*

“Hey, Manny.” A friendly voice greeted him. I turned. He was one of the most gorgeous men I had seen my entire life. He was only a bit taller than me, around 5’6”. But his hazel eyes shone in the bright-white of the hallway, his black hair gleaming under all the lights. Usual florescent lights made people look ugly, sickly with their yellow hues. They made him look marvelous. His nose and lip held a single ring each. His arms covered in colorful and gorgeous looking tattoos. I couldn’t help but gawk.

He stopped at room 216, looking over at me with both an amused and friendly look on his face. “Hey. Welcome to Lowood.” He nodded before walking into his room and closing the door.

It was a beginning.
But it was one that surely didn't belong to a black and white photo.
Because beginnings like that never ended up in a nuthouse/rehab center.

But who's to say it couldn't happen this time?

[disaster notes.]

Chapter 1

“Thompson, Kaity?” A cheery voice called, peering into the crowd of f_ck-ups and mishaps. I was situated somewhere in the middle, blending in quite well. The young woman peered into the crowd as I stood and squeeze in between chairs, trying not to bump my bandaged wrist on any of them.

I waved my hands at her slightly, showing that I was here and just as f_cked-up as the other people. I waved the hand that had to pinkish gauze.

“Hello, honey. We’re gonna take you down back so you can pick up the bed sheets and pillows and you can go and get settled. We already brought your luggage.” She smiled, revealing pearly white teeth that gleamed under the ugly florescent lights. I nodded at her as she turned on her heels and motioned for me to follow her.

We left the main room and walked down a small hallway into a back closet where she grabbed a couple of sheets from the shelves and handed me two pillows.

“No pillowcases, honey, in case you try and hide something in there. There’s a daily bed-sheet check, too.” She told her, flashing me those teeth again as she dumped the load in my waiting arms. Her teeth made me nauseous.

Couldn’t I easily hide something inside the pillow? But I kept my mouth shut. I was an empty void. A doll without a mouth. A soul without a tongue. She turned me around so I was facing the door again. A man, who was bald with a gold earring, smiled at her.

“Thanks, Martha.” He said in a deep, booming voice.

“No problem. She’s room 217.” She informed him, squeezing out of the room and walking back down the hallway, calling in another poor soul.

The man motioned for me to follow him. We turned down a few more hallways until we were in the main ward. There were rooms on either side, the glass textured so nothing could be seen. On the glass were large, thick black numbers. Some of them looked like eyes. Some looked by angry faces. I almost giggled at them. But I kept my mouth shut, as if my tongue had been cut out

He stopped in front of 217, taking out a key to open the door.

“Here are some rules,” the man began, “Your door is only locked after lights out. During the day, it’s always open. Expect a daily check of you bed and suitcases. The girls bathrooms are down the hall here, turn to your left. There's a daily shower period. Yes, it's mandatory. There's no shaving here. If you want something removed, go and see the hospital wing, and the nurse will remove it for you. No razors, you hear me.?” He asked and I nodded feebly. I felt like a child.

“No sleeping in others rooms. We do daily checks every night. Laundry is done once per week. Someone will come around and collect it. Later on today, someone will come by with a schedule of all your meetings and activities. Clear?”

I nodded once more, my eyes glazed over from boredom. I hadn’t really listened to all of that. But the bald man looked satisfied, and he backed away from the door and began to walk down the hallway.*

“Hey, Manny.” A friendly voice greeted him. I turned. He was one of the most gorgeous men I had seen my entire life. He was only a bit taller than me, around 5’6”. But his hazel eyes shone in the bright-white of the hallway, his black hair gleaming under all the lights. Usual florescent lights made people look ugly, sickly with their yellow hues. They made him look marvelous. His nose and lip held a single ring each. His arms covered in colorful and gorgeous looking tattoos. I couldn’t help but gawk.

He stopped at room 216, looking over at me with both an amused and friendly look on his face. “Hey. Welcome to Lowood.” He nodded before walking into his room and closing the door.

It was a beginning.
But it was one that surely didn't belong to a black and white photo.
Because beginnings like that never ended up in a nuthouse/rehab center.

But who's to say it couldn't happen this time?

[disaster notes.]

Chapter 1

“Thompson, Kaity?” A cheery voice called, peering into the crowd of f_ck-ups and mishaps. I was situated somewhere in the middle, blending in quite well. The young woman peered into the crowd as I stood and squeeze in between chairs, trying not to bump my bandaged wrist on any of them.

I waved my hands at her slightly, showing that I was here and just as f_cked-up as the other people. I waved the hand that had to pinkish gauze.

“Hello, honey. We’re gonna take you down back so you can pick up the bed sheets and pillows and you can go and get settled. We already brought your luggage.” She smiled, revealing pearly white teeth that gleamed under the ugly florescent lights. I nodded at her as she turned on her heels and motioned for me to follow her.

We left the main room and walked down a small hallway into a back closet where she grabbed a couple of sheets from the shelves and handed me two pillows.

“No pillowcases, honey, in case you try and hide something in there. There’s a daily bed-sheet check, too.” She told her, flashing me those teeth again as she dumped the load in my waiting arms. Her teeth made me nauseous.

Couldn’t I easily hide something inside the pillow? But I kept my mouth shut. I was an empty void. A doll without a mouth. A soul without a tongue. She turned me around so I was facing the door again. A man, who was bald with a gold earring, smiled at her.

“Thanks, Martha.” He said in a deep, booming voice.

“No problem. She’s room 217.” She informed him, squeezing out of the room and walking back down the hallway, calling in another poor soul.

The man motioned for me to follow him. We turned down a few more hallways until we were in the main ward. There were rooms on either side, the glass textured so nothing could be seen. On the glass were large, thick black numbers. Some of them looked like eyes. Some looked by angry faces. I almost giggled at them. But I kept my mouth shut, as if my tongue had been cut out

He stopped in front of 217, taking out a key to open the door.

“Here are some rules,” the man began, “Your door is only locked after lights out. During the day, it’s always open. Expect a daily check of you bed and suitcases. The girls bathrooms are down the hall here, turn to your left. There's a daily shower period. Yes, it's mandatory. There's no shaving here. If you want something removed, go and see the hospital wing, and the nurse will remove it for you. No razors, you hear me.?” He asked and I nodded feebly. I felt like a child.

“No sleeping in others rooms. We do daily checks every night. Laundry is done once per week. Someone will come around and collect it. Later on today, someone will come by with a schedule of all your meetings and activities. Clear?”

I nodded once more, my eyes glazed over from boredom. I hadn’t really listened to all of that. But the bald man looked satisfied, and he backed away from the door and began to walk down the hallway.*

“Hey, Manny.” A friendly voice greeted him. I turned. He was one of the most gorgeous men I had seen my entire life. He was only a bit taller than me, around 5’6”. But his hazel eyes shone in the bright-white of the hallway, his black hair gleaming under all the lights. Usual florescent lights made people look ugly, sickly with their yellow hues. They made him look marvelous. His nose and lip held a single ring each. His arms covered in colorful and gorgeous looking tattoos. I couldn’t help but gawk.

He stopped at room 216, looking over at me with both an amused and friendly look on his face. “Hey. Welcome to Lowood.” He nodded before walking into his room and closing the door.

It was a beginning.
But it was one that surely didn't belong to a black and white photo.
Because beginnings like that never ended up in a nuthouse/rehab center.

But who's to say it couldn't happen this time?

[façade]

ooh, his room is right next to hers? : D

i suppose this is her chance to start over. i hope she doesn't start cutting again/do something bad to herself.

update!