The Kids from Yesterday
Preface
This story starts with a man's dissension into a dark depression over the parting of his wife and only child. He could not explain to her the reason they must be apart when he looked into his daughter's questioning eyes the day before. The intricacies of her parent's feud being too grown up for her five year old self, all he could do was shake his head in sorrow. Now, he can hardly ascertain the reasons himself, his tired brain unable to sort through the angry words and hateful feelings shrouding it from view. Yet, this he is sure is true: his heart broke free from his chest with the breaking of their embrace and a gaping emptiness is all that remains.
Alcohol and drugs begin to call to their former host and wait in every shadow he passes on the street. The wind from passing cars lashes out at him like hands, drawing him to the jet black pavement. A single word echoes in his mind: fatality.
He pulls a scrap of paper from his pocket with one freezing hand and glances down at the address scribbled on it then up at the sign on the building before him.
Lacuna Mental Health
Robert Chappell P.H.D.
Neuroscience and Behavioral Therapy
He dragged his feet up the stairs to the plain, gray building and slipped in the front door. A tinny bell hung over the door jingled in response to his arrival into the tiny, gray waiting room, scattered with homely chairs. He strode to the desk where the only inhabitant of the room sat typing data into a dated computer.
"Good morning," she greeted flatly.
The man cleared his throat and finally lifted his eyes to meet the girl's. She wasn't altogether very pretty but she was young and wore her hair in loose braids which complimented her otherwise drab appearance.
"I have an appointment with Dr. Chappell. My name's Gerard Way," he intoned, voice still raw from screaming into his pillow last night. Suddenly conscious of the red, puffy condition of his eyes, he dropped them once again to the floor.
"Sure. Right this way," the girl got up from her chair and grabbed a file off the desk. Disappearing momentarily around the corner, she appeared once again, holding open the door to the hall beyond. The low hum of the fluorescent lights seemed loud in the man's ears as the blanched light closed in on him.
The conversation with the young Dr. Chappell was short, hazy and followed by the signing of many documents entitled "Lacuna Research Form".
After the third sheet he'd skimmed over, reoccurring words and phrases began catching his eye, though he paid them precious little attention. "...molecular manipulation," "...research," "...discoveries."
When the last signature was signed, Gerard slid the pile of papers across the hardwood desk to the man opposite him.
"The final stage of the process requires you to record your verbal consent." He slid a black tape recorder across the desk and handed Gerard another piece of paper. "Read this, please."
Click.
"I, Gerard Arthur Way, hereby give my consent to Doctor Chappell and all other Lacuna Research Corporation affiliates to erase vital portions of unwanted memories pertaining to… my daughter and ex-wife… I understand the risks involved with the procedure and do not hold the Lacuna Research Corporation responsible for dangers associated with participation in this study."
Click.