needles • frerard

fourty one

a week later

"Whatcha doing?" Gerard asks, walking back into the bedroom after brushing his teeth. Frank is sitting with his legs bent, resting a journal on his knees.

"Writing down my thoughts so my head d-doesn't explode."

"Oh, cool." The taller one replies, getting into bed next to Frank.

"You can also talk to me, if you want."

"Not about th-this stuff. Not that I don't trust you, but it's like... deep thoughts. Stuff I d-d-don't even tell my therapist u-usually. Stuff that doesn't always stick around, but I still want it out. J-Just horrible, stupid, l-little thoughts."

"Huh." Gerard nods. "Alright."

Frank keeps writing for a few more minutes, beginning to grind his teeth. This is irritating him, thinking about all of the things that he's writing down. The more he writes, the worse it gets.

"Y'know wh-what pisses me off?" He slams the notebook shut.

"What?"

"He ruined my life. F-F-Fucking ruined it. I let him take five years a-away from me, and now he's still haunting me. In my s-sleep, when I'm awake. It's not fucking fair."

"You didn't let him. It wasn't your fault. But yes, it's incredibly unfair." Gerard says.

"Five years. Five. Five y-y-years of being tormented by this vile creature and it's still n-not over. I feel dirty, all the time, like he's still t-touching me. I don't want to exist i-in a body that he tainted. Five fucking years that he beat and degraded and d-defiled me." Frank sits up, folding his legs criss-cross. "And I still feel like I-I-I deserved it. There's still a part of me that b-believes that I deserved it. That I'm worthless, th-th-that I'm only good for being used." His voice cracks.

"I t-tried to kill myself over him. I let someone get me t-t-to the point-"

Frank stands up.

"-where I tried to d-die to get away from what he did." He begins pacing the room. "And that j-j-just makes me feel weak, like my dad always said I was. I was never g-good enough. Not for my dad, not for Bob. Sometimes I feel like I'm not good enough for y-you, either. I was always a f-f-fucking disappointment to him, you know that?" Frank looks at Gerard, who's sitting there, silently watching. Gerard shakes his head.

"Well, I was. He gave me h-his name cause he wanted me to live up to what he was. A-A-A-And I couldn't. Nothing I did ever pleased him. N-Not when I got a B on my ch-chem test, cause I still had a D in algebra. I h-had still skipped the football tryouts, I still had my stupid dream of b-being a musician, I was still weak. I mean, fucking look at me. D-Do I look like a man to you? Do I sound like one? N-N-No, cause I barely ever speak up and when I do it's a-all butchered by my dumb stutter. God, my d-dad, my mom-"

Frank counts on his fingers, still pacing.

"-Bob, everyone. I've never been good enough f-f-for a single fucking person in my life. I was b-barely even a good enough fuck to keep around. He'd say that s-sometimes, y'know. Afterwards. When I was bruised and c-crying and wanting so badly to crawl out of my own disgusting skin. He'd s-say that my body was hardly even worth keeping, that he could f-f-find someone better."

Angry tears well up in his eyes.

"So, basically, m-my entire life has gone to shit and I can't do anything about it. I-I'm trying, I'm going to therapy, I'm taking my meds, but it's not enough. I c-can't get rid of any of them!" He glances at the mirror on the wall, jaw clenched.

"It's just... it's j-just not fucking fair!" Frank screams, lunging forward. His fist collides with the mirror, and it shatters completely. He falls to his knees, hunched over, clutching his bloody hand.