A brief preface: I spent about 2 hours on The Way Back Machine trying to find an archived copy of this fanfic on Quizilla to no avail. Mostly I wanted to find out what I titled each chapter of this giant mess of a “story”. All story text will appear as a block quote and all comments will appear as regular text. So here it is folks, the first chapter of Legitimate Self Destruction.
In my room. On my bed. There it lay. The blade. A single sharp solitary razor blade. It stared at me as if saying, “Please Maria, please! I’m begging you! Use me! Cut! Cut! Cut!” I started to reach for the blade.
I read this book called Cut in middle school, and to give a brief summary it’s about a girl who comes home after winning a running meet for her school and her parents aren’t home (again) so she slits her wrists and is taken to a rehab center for teens and doesn’t speak until the end of the book. It’s written in this short choppy sentence style, and it clearly made a huge impact on 12 year old Maria. My friend Lisa once told me I basically stole the first couple chapters of this from Cut. Which is not entirely wrong.
Very slowly, very cautiously, as if my hand would brake off and disappear if I moved too quickly.
Oh tween!Maria, if only you knew how much you would come to love terrible analogies like this.
Once my fingers touched the cold metal of the blade’s handle I felt that much more alive.
I placed the blade on my bedside table and gently pressed on a piece of paper. It sliced as if I were slicing warm butter. I gingerly placed the blade on the palm of my hand. I could feel a warm, tingling sensation grow over my scalp. Before the blade broke my skin the door to my room burst open, practically falling off of its hinges. My brother and his friends were standing in the door way looking at me.
They looked like they were coming to say happy birthday.
Look how advanced I was, I knew how to use /italics/
Though the way they looked now was shocked. They stared at me in amazement, total horror written across their faces.
The blade fell from my hand leaving only a dull clink as it landed on my smooth wooden floor.
I’m pretty sure you can’t leave a sound because it’s something we perceive and doesn’t last all that long, so…
I looked at them apologetically, my brother stared back, his eyes glowed with anger and hurt, he slowly shook his head. I rushed over to him, trying to make an attempt to apologize for my act of stupidity. I knew I should have locked my door. He simply shook his head and walked out of the room.
I sank onto my bed and rested my head in the palms of my hands. I felt a weight on either side of me. I looked up to see my brothers (and my)
Seriously American Education System, I should never have thought this was grammatically acceptable.
friends looking at me inquisitively. I leaned into the head board and sighed slowly and regretfully.
“Why Maria?” Mike asked. Mike was my very best friend, as well as my brother’s, best friend. I loved him like a brother.
“Because it makes me feel alive. All any guy ever wanted was sex or money or something like that. They never took the time to get to know me, and today, I talked to someone. Someone that I really liked, but he just tried to get into my pants,” I said starting to sob a little in between words; I was trying to connect my self-esteem issues about men to my incessant cutting habit.
Welcome to the redundancy party! If you take a shot every time I repeat myself I’m pretty sure you’ll be dead by the end of this chapter.
Also welcome to the pre-feminist, independent, bad ass Maria. If only I could go back in time and teach her the wonders of exposition through dialogue and valuing yourself higher than the opinion of a man.
“Maria, you can do other things besides cut to make yourself feel better about… yourself,” Tre said wrapping an arm around me, as he looked a little bewildered at the statement that he had just made. Tre was another of my brother’s friends. Mike and Tre were in a band with my brother.
If you haven’t caught on yet then allow me to explain; my brother is Billie Joe Armstrong, the lead singer and guitarist of Green Day. Making me Maria, or rarely Ria (usually when he’s mad) for short, Armstrong. The no name sister who had many jobs in the past but has not had anything nearly as successful as Billie Joe.
I honestly thought this “twist” was a genius story telling technique.
I stood up and cautiously walked into Billie Joe’s room. I lay next to him on his bed and looked into the emerald green eyes that he and I were cursed with. They were a curse, and a gift.
SOMEONE SHOULD HAVE STOPPED ME OMG THIS IS DISGUSTING! How can they be a curse and a gift? They’re just eyes.
“Why Ria, why?” He asked looking over at me. His eyes were searching mine. They pleaded to know why I did it.
“Because guys are jerks. It’s the only thing that made me feel better! I didn’t really mean to!!” I said tears starting to spill quickly from my already blood shot eyes. Thinking about how disappointed he was in me made my eyes well up with tears. They streamed quickly down my cheeks and I hurried to wipe them back. I told him I didn’t mean to do it. I did mean to. But he, he of course didn’t need to know that. No one needed to know that.
Too many exclamation points, also not the time for them.
This is literally the end of page one. Are you even ready for where it goes from here? Because it just gets crazier.
And actually your brother probably did need to know that you were about to commit suicide, and a mental health professional.
“Maria, you know I’m going on tour, and I’m leaving today. I know that you’ll never stop this habit if someone isn’t constantly with you watching you,” He started into one of those typical protective older brother monologues. “And Addie and the kids well…” He trailed off slowly; he didn’t want to continue the sentence. I knew the end of it, but he didn’t want me to.
“I know they don’t particularly like me. The kids do but, Addie doesn’t, so…” I said amusement rising in my voice.
Okay, so first she wanted to commit suicide, then she was upset because she let down her brother, now she’s laughing? Well. This 10 minutes has been an emotional roller coaster.
I enjoyed watching Billie Joe squirm at the thought of leaving me alone with Addie for three months. It gave me some sort of sick, I’m-getting-back-at-you type of pleasure.
“Yes and, I’ve unilaterally decided that you will come on tour with Green Day and My Chemical Romance!” He smiled at me, and wiped the remaining salty tear water from my cheeks.
“Aren’t you leaving in like…an hour for that?” I asked bewilderment creeping into my voice. I would never be ready in an hour.
The saddest part of all this, is the fact that it was one of the best written Gerard Way fanfics on Quizilla.
“Yes. I already packed your bags; well Addie helped me pack your bags. I don’t particularly like being reminded my baby sister wears tight underwear, and has lacy bras, or needs tampons,” He scrunched his face up in slight disgust.
WAIT A MINUTE, WAIT A MINUTE, WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE.
HE MADE THIS DECISION LESS THAN A MINUTE AGO! IN WHAT TIME DID HE MANAGE TO CONSULT HIS WIFE AND PACK HER BAGS?!
I giggled softly at him. “But all you need to do is meet us downstairs in 10 minutes.” He said pushing me out the door. I looked back at his now closed door in slight confusion and then turned to walk down the stairs to find my messenger bag.
I walked down the stairs and settled on the couch. I picked up the book that I’d left on the coffee table and turned to the page I’d left off on. I was about to finish the last page when I heard the front door slam.
BUT YOU’RE LEAVING FOR TOUR IN UNDER 10 MINUTES AT THIS POINT! THIS MAKES NO SENSE! WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME THIS MADE NO SENSE? It’s not like I’m referring to a plot point from three chapters ago. This happened literally 2 paragraphs ago. Come on tween!Maria, get your shit together.*
“Hello…” I heard an oddly familiar voice behind me. I turned to come face to face with one of my best friends. Frankie.
“Aloha Frankie,” I said without looking up from my book. I finished the last page and stood to hug him; only to find him not standing there anymore. I walked into the kitchen where I saw Gerard Way casually sitting at the table with his younger brother Mikey Way raiding my fridge. I’d become fast friends with Mikey and Frankie, though they’d neglected to introduce me to Gerard, Ray, or Bob.
WHEN? HOW? WHY? AND WHY DID THEY GO TO BILLIE JOE’S HOUSE TO START THE TOUR?! I don’t know a lot about touring bands, but I’m pretty sure they all meet at the first tour location and go from there.
“Umm… why are you in my fridge Michael?” I said in the most serious tone I could muster. The giggle I was trying to suppress wanted to escape badly.
Mikey turned and screamed as if he were a little girl who just saw her dad naked.
This is disturbing on many levels.
I’m pretty sure that he wasn’t expecting me of all people to be standing there. Though it was my house, so I’m not sure who he expected to be standing there.
“Maria! How are you? Why can’t I have a popsicle?” His voice was small and childish, as if he were asking me why his puppy ran away.
“You can have a popsicle.” I pulled the box of popsicles from the fridge and dangled them in front of his face. “But introduce me first,” I gestured to Gerard.
“Oh ya!” Mikey spoke as if just now remembering Gerard was in the room. He took a Popsicle from the box I’d stopped dangling, and now held in front of his face, and ripped off the cover in one fluid motion.
“Mikey,” Gerard turned to face Mikey from his position at the bar stool writing in a notebook at the island in our kitchen. “How do you know Maria Armstrong?”
“Well, we went to a music seminar together when I was staying in New York for a while and we kept in touch after hitting it off so well talking about bass tabs,” I said taking the quarter eaten Popsicle from Mikey’s grasp and started to lick it. He whined annoyed and defeated in his quest for a full Popsicle.
“Is your name Mikey?” Gerard now faced me. His hazel eyes gleamed with laughter, as he smiled. The smile touched his eyes, and the corners wrinkled up in happiness. It was as if I could see the laughter rising into his eyes. It was an amazing smile.
“Yes, as a matter of fact it is and this is Maria,” I smiled wrapping my free arm around Mikey, and continuing to lick the cherry Popsicle.
“No I want to be Mikey! Not Maria!” Of course Mikey couldn’t go three minutes without whining about something. The boy would never grow up, he should have played Peter Pan not Gerard. He squirmed next to me; he crossed his arms in protest against not getting a complete Popsicle.
This entire section pains me because I know that I once thought this was intensely funny.
I’m also taking this moment to apologize to all the real people in this story who I completely just… fucked up. I’m sorry. I didn’t know any better.
“Fine you can be Mikey,” I finally gave in and let go of his shoulders. “So why are you in my kitchen anyway?” I finished the Popsicle, throwing the stick into the garbage. Looked at my tongue in the mirror Billie had hung on the fridge (don’t ask me why he did that. I think it was some kind of mental preparation thing). It was the perfect shade of blood red.
What does this even mean?! Does this mean it’s the same color as blood? Does it mean she wanted her tongue to look like blood so it’s perfect in that sense? Why was it important for the reader to know any of it? If I could go back in time…
“Because the buses are here and we didn’t want Billie Joe and Tre and Mike to miss the tour.” Frankie said walking into the room while still punching buttons on his Sidekick. He sat down next to Gerard and picked up his bottle of soda.
“Oh, I’ll tell them.” I said walking up the stairs, banging on Billie Joes bedroom, and the bathroom doors three times each. That was our agreed signal that said that we had to hall ass to get this tour underway.
When did you come up with this signal?! Is it from the past?! Did they figure it out at the same time that Addie packed Maria’s suitcase?! There are plotholes for days in this son-of-a-bitch.
My bags were packed. My ipod was charged. My computer had the wireless card in, as I triple checked the connection on the bus.
Shit. This was 10 years ago. This is dated. Also, when did you move from the house to the bus?
Everything was good to go. The busses were parked conveniently outside our house. Everyone gathered together to carry bags, and place things in their rightful bunks. It took us about an hour to get everything prepared, but we eventually left.
The buses were the same as the last, (well technically they were all the same because it was the Green Day tour buses). Blue and green and black everything, depending on the bus that is, TV DVD Xbox you know… the works. I plunked myself down on an empty bunk. Tre and Mike came in and set up there stuff on this bus. Billie, apparently, requested a bus for each member. Except me, because I wasn’t a member thus I shared a bus with my brother.
- Every time you see the incorrect use of their/there or to/too take a shot. I promise it’s a better drinking game than any you’ve ever played.
- I am about 90% sure this is the only time I mention or refer to each member having their own bus and that through the rest of the story they’re on two buses.I can see my thought process, but by the next sentence I was on to a new plot twist. This repeats over and over and over.
I lay down on the bed; my ipod was playing My Chemical Romance’s Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge CD. This CD described how I felt about everything. The songs connected with me. I could feel the lyrics, as if they were in the air I breathed and the water I drank. I looked within the songs to find myself not having to look very deep past the metaphors to find my reality. It was as if they’d written the songs about me. The music just touched something in my soul that made me feel so much more alive. More so then I’ve ever felt, I just clicked with the words, and the songs made me feel like I was on air.
IT. ALL. FUCKING. HURTS.
Check back next Friday for chapter 2 where we see Gerard and Maria confessing their deep dark secrets to each other, even though they’ve never met before today.
*Spoiler alert: tween!Maria does not get her shit together and this train just keeps rolling