Identity [Gerard Way] *Completed*

Chapter Forty Two

Have you ever heard the sound of gunfire?

Have you seen a bullet before? Have you seen one up close? The dark, rough look of it? Have you seen one that close? So close, so close that you can smell the blood, so close, close enough that you suddenly start to remember all the things you're thankful for? Because that bullet, that bullet is so close to your face, so dangerously close that it could kill you. It could kill you and your life could be gone.

Have you held a gun in your hands? Felt the murder? The power. The knowing that you could take someone's life, right from their grasp, just with one pull of the trigger. Have you felt that?

Have you pulled a trigger before, or seen the victim's eyes that stare at the gun?

I've never done it. I've never... felt it, people's lives, piling up on my shoulders. And you know. I'm scared of everything. You know that's how I am; a startled rabbit, running away from the forest fire. Never thinking to grab water and put it out. You- you get what I'm saying?

I've only watched others do this. The brave and the completely fearless, pulling their triggers and walking away, like it never happens. Watching, watching. Hiding. Hiding behind things. Hiding behind Gerard's shadow.

And... right now. I'm doing it again. Hiding behind a wall, the sounds of struggle and repeated gunfire on the other side. Gerard. Doing everything. Me, doing nothing. Hiding.

And even behind this wall, I try. I do. I try. I try to do it, try to raise the gun and let the trigger go, release the bullet. Trust me, I try. It seems so easy. But it's really like it's the most difficult thing in the world. The gun just hovers in my hands, stays there, shaking, death in the form of a gun, shivering. It's like - it's like there's something blocking me, I don't know. Something in my brain, telling me not to do it. A roadblock on a street inside my head.

Somewhere in front of me, Gerard is squeezing a trigger repeatedly. And somewhere in front of me, IT are dying. Six of them. Or possibly more. More could've ran in by now. But, you see, I wouldn't know. I don't. I don't because my mind numbs when these things happen. My mind numbs and I hide. When people die. It numbs, and there's a fog that settles over my vision, makes itself at home. The fog's cold and it freezes me, freezes me in my shoes, until I'm frozen and scared and unable to do anything.

I'll stay behind this wall, and I'll hide here until all the noise is gone, until the fighting stops, until my brain stops drowning it out, until the fog lifts, until Gerard appears from around the corner. I'll wait...

Remember what I said, not too long ago? That thing about fighting and death?

Fight or die.

Right. Well. That phrase means nothing. I'd thought it meant something before, but now it's just another pointless string of words.

These gunshots are loud. The deafening, ear-splitting echo of the bullets - they almost hurt. They almost - no, no, not almost. No, this is real, searing, burning pain, reaching my eardrums first and then sending this... tremor through my head. Throbbing pain. A headache. But so much worse than a headache. A tornado in the form of one, maybe, I don't know.