I stepped outside into the cool September air and smiled, for once actually happy to be staring out over the yellowed grass of the Samuel A. Hannelly Rehabilitation and Post Comatose Trauma Center. I turned to face the building, relishing in the last time I would ever be forced to see the whitewashed walls and peeling wooden sign of the godforsaken rehab center. I shot the men in white one last smirk as they broke into light conversation, both disappearing behind the white double doors. I made sure nobody was heading around the corners before breaking into a mischievous grin and producing a black sharpie marker from my back pocket. I turned to the wooden plaque bearing the name of the center and the year it was established and hastily added my own..personal, touches to the sign.
I pulled away after a minute, satisfied that Id left my mark on the hell hole that Id been forced to call home for the past two years. I capped the marker and chortled, knowing the other inmates patients would appreciate my handy work; It takes being suppressed and locked up for years at a time to appreciate the phrase 'Lobotomized USA' like we do.
I sighed, walking down the familiar road as if I hadnt seen the real world in centuries, while in reality it had only been two years. I continued along the streets of my childhood, reminiscing on countless occasions that I had sprinted down the lane on bikes, skateboards and scooters with the neighborhood kids. Back when we had been uncaring, free, nothing holding us back from doing what we wanted, no prescribed pills to keep us stupid and conforming-no suppressing the urges. Those pills had robbed my of two years of my life, of two years of happiness, of two years of feeling anything but the slow decaying of my own soul.
I stopped suddenly, finding myself in the center of town as opposed to the quiet residential streets. I had barely noticed turning the corner. I blinked, finding that I didnt recognize the surrounding buildings, and frowned. It seemed I had missed a revolution of new shops and offices during my stay in Lobotomized USA, and I had no idea which way would lead my back towhere? I felt the blood drain from my face as realization dawned on me-I had no home, no money, my family would surely slam the door in my face if I asked them for help, any friendships I had once managed to maintain would have long since disintegrated, and to top it all off, people think Im crazy. I blame the media.
I groaned, running my hands through my shoulder-length brown hair and biting my lip anxiously. I sighed and looked around, deciding I would need to clear my head if I was going to be able to do anything, and shuffled into a coffee shop to my left. I blinked harshly, my eyes quickly adjusting to the dim lighting of the small shop and slumped into a seat at the bar, the scent of fresh coffee strong in my nostrils.
I fished around in the pockets of my torn jeans, hoping that I would miraculously come up with enough loose change to purchase a small coffee, but to no avail. Dammit, I cursed under my breath. Why does everything have to cost more than $.27?
The hairs on the back of my neck spiked suddenly, and I swore I could feel a pair of eyes burning into the back of my head. I turned sharply, catching the eyes of a surprised looking young guy dressed in all black, scraggly black hair surrounded his face and lightly brushed his leather clad shoulders. I stared at him for a few moments, a faint familiarity ringing in the back of my head. I was still trying to remember why he looked so familiar when he broke into a nervous smile.
"Jessa? Is that you?" he asked, rising from the small table he was sat at and filling the seat next to me.
A jolt ran through me upon hearing his voice, and I felt my eyes widen. A strange smile quirked my lips as I remembered my favorite vampire, and I realized I was sat next to a recovering alcoholic, and my old rehab roommate, Gerard Way.
"Gerard?" I asked in disbelief. He smiled widely at me, and enveloped me in a tight hug, the scent of cigarettes and coffee radiating off him like a trigger to the past, pulling up some of the only good memories that Id managed to make in the Samuel A. Hannelly Rehabilitation and Post Comatose Trauma Center.
At last Gerard pulled away and held me at arms length, looking me over. "I havent seen you in almost a year! When did you get released from the center?" he asked, sitting back down at the bar with a grin plastered onto his pale features.
"About two hours ago," I smirked, watching Gerards eyebrows shoot up in slight surprise.
"So it took two whole years for the shrinks to realize that youre completely and utterly sane?" he chuckled, and I felt my entire body tense. Sane. definitely not a word to describe me. For the purpose of being released from hell the center as quickly as possible, nobody knew about my real problem. Not that its actually a problem. I dont have to do it. But once that other side of me comes out...the bloodshed becomes something that I want more than air.
I thought my whole body had gone rigid, but I somehow managed to pull a fake smile and force out a convincing chuckle.
I faked a cough and shook myself to relax my tensed limbs. Turning back to Gerard, I gave him a small, sincere smile. "Sane is a word I would use very loosely."
This place is my lobotomy.
Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge Chapter 3
