Never Leave Me

9 : All is Forgiven

Frank's POV

I don't know how long I laid there.

My head feels like it was put in a blender. I can feel blood dripping out of my nose, the crimson liquid filling my mouth and making me sick. I wrapped my arms around myself and gripped my ribs, wincing from the pain. Surely he couldn't have broken my ribs that easily, right? They feel broken.

I sat up and saw a small pool of blood that had formed from the slow drip coming out of my nose. I blinked hard, my vision still somewhat blurred as I dragged myself over to the mattress. Pulling myself up I grabbed the blanket, wrapping it around myself and holding the edge up to my nose to stop the blood.

I whimpered softly against the throbbing pain, tears welling up in my eyes. Why did I do that? Why had I slapped him? I should've known better. I've already learned he won't hesitate to hit me when he's angry. I hadn't expected him to get that angry.

I leaned back against the wall and looked up at the light above me. It was flickering, only making my headache worse.

"Fuck..." I groaned, sliding down the wall until I was laying on my back. He said I could call for him and he would come back right? Does he still mean that?

"Gerard!" I tried calling for him, my lungs feeling like they were going to collapse. "Gerard! I'm sorry!" I cried.

Nothing.

One of two things is going to happen. Either Gerard is going to come down here and kill me, or he's going to leave me down here to rot. I'll starve to death, or maybe I'll catch a cold and die from my own weak immunity. A small sob ripped through my chest.

All I had done was ignore him and brush him off for the past year, that's all I had to do for him to abduct me. Why? Why me? What the fuck did I do to deserve this?

I allowed myself to cry, finally feeling the weight of my situation crashing down on me. I'm really trapped here, I'll never see my stupid apartment again. Never go to the bar with Ray and Mikey. I'll never hear Marge yell at me, telling me to get a haircut or to stop smoking so much. Cigarettes. Fuck, I need a cigarette.

I curled up on myself and closed my eyes, waiting for sleep, or possibly death, to find me.

***

"Frankie?" Light flooded the room and I tried to blink against it, but it was still difficult to see anything. I'm not sure how long I slept for but I certainly don't feel well rested. In fact, I feel much worse. My head is throbbing ten times as hard, the left side of my face felt like it was swelling a bit and it was becoming increasingly harder to breath as panic set in. Worst of all, the man who did this to me was walking up to me.

I shuffled away from him, ducking my head down and gripping the blanket around me, trying to make myself as small as possible. He's finally decided to kill me, thats why he came back.

"Frankie, look at me." His voice was gentle, like he was speaking to a cornered animal. That's what it feels like at least.

I glanced up at him to find concern painted across his face. His eyes are warm again, no longer dark and full of rage. He's crouching in front of me, watching me carefully.

"I'm so sorry." He murmured.

I didn't say anything. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? He's sorry? He's almost acting as if he didn't do this to me. His mood swings are only making my head pound harder as I tried to keep up with him.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly. "Let me see."

He reached out and pulled the blanket away from my face. I let him, unable to move, I was frozen in fear of what he might do next. He slowly reached to cup my face in his hand, frowning slightly as he did. I almost welcomed his touch, now that it wasn't aggressive. I don't want him to hurt me, I can't handle anymore pain. I'll accept anything right now as long as he's not hurting me. I tilted my head against his hand, making myself wince.