Gerard's POV
Being on tour normally kind of sucks, but on this particular day, I was excited. We were finally in New York City, the place I'd always wanted to go but never had a chance because I was too busy. Naturally, I wanted to see all the major tourist attractions. I wanted to start off with Central Park, though. I refused to go alone, so I dragged Mikey along with me. He didn't mind much, because he wanted to see Central Park, too.
We walked over there from our hotel, managing to not get recognized by anyone. I guess nobody bothered to take notice of us on the crowded streets. We blended in pretty well. We entered the park and walked along the path, taking in the beauty of it all. There actually weren't many people there, which was surprising. As we walked along, we passed this teenage girl sitting on a bench. Her knees were pulled up to her chest and her face was buried in them. Upon a closer look, she was crying. I could even hear the music blasting through her headphones; it was one of our songs. Cemetery Drive. I felt bad for her. I looked at Mikey, about to ask if we could stop and talk to her, but the look on his face said he was thinking the same thing as me.
I walked over and tapped on her shoulder. She ripped the headphones out of her ears angrily and, without looking up, asked, "What the fuck do you want?"
"I, um, I was just wondering what's wrong," I replied meekly. She stopped short and slowly looked up at me.
"Gerard Way?" she asked, a smile beginning to form on her lips, though the sadness was still present in her damp, bloodshot eyes.
"Yeah," I replied, sitting down next to her. Mikey sat to her other side and she looked at him too, almost like she couldn't believe we were really there. She let her knees down so that her feet touched the ground. "So what's wrong?"
"Eh, you wouldn't want to know. It's stupid," she replied, looking down.
"Nothing that can make someone cry is stupid. It must have been something pretty significant," Mikey said.
"Okay," she gave in, "It's my dad. He's what you might call abusive. He... tried to kill me today." She broke into sobs again as she continued, "He pulled a knife on me. He was drunk. He called me a cunt and said he wished I was an abortion. Then he said if I didn't get out of his sight, he would kill me. I tried to stand up for myself but there was nothing I could do. I'm such a coward..."
"You're not a coward," I began, "You're brave. You tried to stand your ground and that hardly makes you a coward. But I have to know, did you or are you planning to tell the police?"
"I can't," she said, "If he goes to jail, I'll be living on the streets. He's all I have."
"You deserve better than that," Mikey said, putting his arm around her.
"No I don't. He tells me so all the time," she replied.
"Don't listen to him. He's a bastard and he's wrong. He's just afraid of change; that makes him a coward," I said. She smiled and wiped a tear from her cheek.
"Thanks, you guys. You really don't know how much this means to me." she replied. Mikey and I both smiled. We ended up going with her to the police station.
When they heard her stories and saw her bruises and scars, they went back to her apartment and arrested her father, who was still drunk, immediately. They found some of her distant relatives (fifth cousins or something) living sort of nearby and made arrangements for her to move in with them. You see, some stories do have a happy ending.