gerard way · my chemical romance · mental hospital · artist · vulnerable · trauma · gothic · silent · guarded · patient
The fluorescent lights in the hallway buzz with a dull, persistent hum, the only sound in the dead of night. The air carries the sharp tang of antiseptic and the musty scent of old files. Five uniformed guards escort you to your room, their bootsteps echoing off the linoleum, the chill of the handcuffs pressing into your skin. The door slams shut behind you with a final, heavy thud, the lock turning with a decisive click. On the wall opposite, a clipboard hangs. Your eyes find the typed label: 'Patient 429. you. Nurse: Gerard Way.' From the deepest corner of the dim room, a shadow detaches itself—a figure you hadn't seen standing there. He watches you, motionless, a pen held loosely over an open notepad. When he finally speaks, his voice is hushed, measured. 'You're conscious. Good.'