Bleed Like Me
songfic. Sort of AU. Everyone is still the same. Angel is alive. 'T' for language. I understand not all of this adheres to the actual characters. 'Bleed Like Me' is the property of Garbage.
Avalanche is sullen and too thin. She starves herself to rid herself of sin. And the kick is so divine when she sees bones beneath her skin. And she says 'Hey baby, can you bleed like me? Come on baby, can you bleed like me?
Mimi believes she has sinned. What she does for a living is bad. She believes she is dammed. She strips and seduces men for a living. It's wrong. She draws into herself. And she won't talk anymore. Not to anyone. Even Roger. She isn't talking. Her penance is to not eat. She was too skinny already. Now she's given up eating for good. She slowly fades away. When she's so skinny that bones are visible, she smiles. She believes her penance is almost done. She moves slowly now, she's too weak. Roger sees her shuffle down the stairs. He grabs her shoulder and is surprised when he feels the bones move beneath his hand. He tells her to eat, she could die. Mimi looks at him with her now too-big eyes. She tries to walk away. Roger doesn't let her. He takes her back up to the loft. She refuses to listen as he tries to convince her too eat. Mark comes in and agrees. She glares at them, tear falling. 'You don't understand!' she cries. She slowly leaves. 'You'll never understand!' she cries silently. They don't understand.
Chris is all dressed up and acting coy. Painted like a brand new Christmas toy. He's trying to figure out if he's a girl or he's a boy. And he says 'Hey baby, can you bleed like me? Come on baby, can you bleed like me?'
Angel sits in his chair. He looks in his mirror. Is that a boy or a girl? Will I be a boy or a girl? He stares into his own eyes, wondering. He sees something in his eyes. His clothes from the Men's side of clothing stores suddenly don't seem to fit right any more. He has some girl's clothing. He pulls on tights. He likes the way they make his legs look. He finishes dressing and tries to walk in the platform shoes he has. He falls over, but that's okay. It's his first time in shoes like these. He will get it at some point. He has make up too. And a wig. He puts these on too. Now, until he undresses, he is a girl. He takes a walk. Some men his age whistle at him, or make obscene comments. They think he is a girl. Angel is happy that he is now thought to be a girl. But he is hurt, and his eyes fill with tears. Just this morning, they were laughing at me, and insulting me. For being who I am. Now they whistle and try to compliment me. For being who I am. Angel thinks. He doesn't understand. Don't they understand?
Doodle takes Dad's scissors to her skin. And when she does, relief comes setting in. While she hides the scars she's making underneath her pretty clothes, she sings 'Hey baby, can you bleed like me? Come on baby, can you bleed like me?'
Joanne feels pain. Pain that doesn't bother other people. She doesn't understand it, but it hurts. Joanne doesn't want the pain anymore. She moves through her house. Silver scissors blink innocently at her. She stops and looks at them. She smiles. She has an idea. Joanne takes the scissors with her to the bathroom. She starts out just pressing a blade to her wrist. No cutting. Not yet. The metal is cold against her skin. The blade slips 'accidentally', she says to herself. Joanne takes the scissors away from her wrist and sees a line of dark red blood. To her it's beautiful. And the pain disappears. She covers her growing scars. Whenever there is pain, she runs and slices away at her wrist. One day she forgets to hide the scars. Maureen finds them. Maureen yells at Joanne. Joanne cries. Joanne didn't want to hurt Maureen. Maureen doesn't want Joanne to hurt herself. Joanne kisses Maureen and promises to never do it again. But the pain comes back. She has to. She cries as she cuts herself again. You don't understand, Maureen. You don't understand.
Therapy is Sweetie's brand new drug. Dancing with the Devil's past has never been too fun. But she's better off than trying to take a bullet from a gun. And she cries 'Hey baby can you bleed like me? Come on baby, can you bleed like me?'
Mark is desperate now. It's too much for him. He can't bear to live anymore. Not with his friends dieing. He can't live anymore, not with knowing that Roger, Collins, Mimi and Angel will die and Maureen is with Joanne. He's all alone. He will always be alone. He sees knives in the kitchen and thinks. But he is not weak. Is he? He wants relief. He won't get it from knives. He runs out crying. No relief, no relief. No relief. His steps taunt him. His feet take him to the community center. Paul is in there, from Life Support meetings. Mark is still crying. Mark is trying to hurt himself. Paul stops him, gets him to talk. Mark breathes deep and gulps air. He talks. It all slides out. Paul says he understands. Mark doesn't want to bring up the past. No. No. He doesn't want to. Paul tries to make him. Mark becomes angry. 'You don't understand!' he yells. Fresh tears pour down his face. He runs out. Paul doesn't follow. Mark keeps running. They don't understand. He doesn't understand. They don't understand.
J.T. gets all fucked up in some karaoke bar. After two drinks he's a loser, after three drinks he's a star. Getting all nostalgic as he sings 'I Will Survive; 'Hey baby, can you bleed like me? Come on baby, can you bleed like me?'
Roger is in a bar. Again. He doesn't remember how many beers he's had. He doesn't remember if anyone came with him. He doesn't remember if he has money to pay for the drinks. Through his drunkenness, he sees his problem. Drink, he thinks. He knows this new addiction would break Mark and Mimi's hearts. Like the heroin. But he can't help it. Ever since April, he's needed fixes of something. Of anything. April put out her own candle. She killed herself and left Roger to deal with all the problems by himself. 'If she killed herself, she never really loved me! She couldn't handle. She couldn't deal. I'm the survivor! I can make it through…" he slurred through his drinks. Everyone else in the bar gives him strange looks. He never was popular in bars. Their patronizing looks only make him mad. 'You don't understand! You don't! You don't!' he yells. They think he's too drunk. They don't understand.
Hey baby, can you bleed like me? Come on baby, can you bleed like me?
Maureen's razor slips. A small diagonal red line decorates her calf. Watching and feeling her blood drip out of her is a feeling she doesn't like. She blots. Maureen thinks of the scars on Joanne's wrist. Tears sting in her eyes. Maureen lets the cut scar over. She looks at her blood. It enthralls her. Is everyone's blood alike? She is curious. She has scars too. But they're on the inside. But she knows the scars still look alike. Maureen cries. Maureen knows about scars.
You should see my scars. You should see my scars. You should see my scars. You should see my scars.
If you could see people's emotions and souls, you'd see hers. Maureen knows she has problems. She knows that. But she knows others do too. Joanne didn't stop cutting. She's watching Mimi waste away. She's watching Roger fall into a drunken hole. She's watching Mark trying to run from his pain, but really only making it worse. She also knows hers. Her scars. From being tortured for being bisexual. No one really understands.
Try to comprehend that which you'll never comprehend. Try to comprehend that which you'll never comprehend. Just try to comprehend that which you'll never understand. Try to comprehend that which you'll never understand.
Collins sits and glares at the homework he has to grade. He hates his job. He wants to spend more time with his friends. And more time with his Angel. He loves Angel. His colleagues would not like that. He is gay. He knows it. His coworkers don't. They wouldn't understand, anyways. It's the line he tells himself. Every day. Every night. It's become a comfort to him. We're not like everyone else. He forgets. Bitter tears are locked up inside him. He doesn't want to lie anymore. But they can't, wont, don't understand. But he's used to it. It's useless. Collins has given up. He gives in to the tears and cries. Angel comes in his apartment. He's all done up, the girl that is so pretty to Collins. He wraps his arms around Collins and lets him cry. 'Oh, Angel,' he says. Tears still fall. 'Hush, love. You'll be okay,' he whispers back. He kisses Collins' forehead. Tears fall. From who, they don't know. They share this pain. Both know it. Angel strokes his face. 'They don't understand, Angel. They can't understand.' He says. They don't understand.
You should see my scars. You should see my scars.