The Man I Know I'm Not [Frerard] (Sequel To Tell Me I'm A Bad Man)

Nineteen - I Can Watch Your Face As I Take It All Away

"That's the sort of think a drunk person would say." My voice wavered, and he let go, scowling at me. "I told you having Bert in the house was a bad idea. I told you he would bring you down. I told you -" I stopped when I saw him chuckling, shaking his head. "What?"

"You're so determined to blame everything on him...you can't see what's falling apart right in front of you." He looked me up and down. "God, you're so gullible. And naïve."

"Stop it, Gerard. Stop it."

"You're just a stupid kid!"

"I'm not a kid anymore, Gerard!" I took a step back, away from him.

"You sure as hell are acting like one. Grow up, for fuck sake. You're supposed to be eighteen."

"Why are you talking to me like you're my teacher?!"

"Because I was your teacher, and that's what I'll always be to you!"

By now, a few people had gathered in the doorway to watch our argument. I was determined not to let him see me cry, because that would just give his drunken self even more ammunition to tear me apart.

"I hate this side of you." I said, my eyes meeting his.

"Then you sure don't love the rest of me, sugar." He replied, before turning on his heel and storming back inside.

I couldn't go in after him, and I couldn't face my friends. I stayed in the rain, staring at the floor with my arms wrapped around myself. I felt humiliated and betrayed; was that what he really thought of me? Was I just a - a stupid, naïve kid? Just gullible? Just...nothing?

I walked away, away from the hotel, away from his slurs, away from everything and everyone. Several people had seen him take shots at me, and they'd all seen them hit their target. His words buzzed around my head, stinging like furious wasps, and I fiercely wiped a hand under my eyes, certain I was crying.

Even as the rain began to dry up, I couldn't stop walking. I didn't know where I was going, but I honestly didn't care. My body shook, but from anger or cold, I wasn't sure. Probably both. It was sure to be both.

I didn't know whether to trust his words. Maybe I had been so determined to blame Bert for everything that I couldn't see that he'd been doing this himself. It would explain a lot. Then again, it wouldn't.

It was more fucked that I could ever have imagined.

I ended up outside my mom's house, and I stared up at it, trying to get my breathing under control. I couldn't go and knock on the front door; I'd barely spoken to my mom since I'd left for New York, and I suddenly regretted ever leaving. My friends were here, my family...everything I had was in New Jersey, and I'd just left it behind for some stupid teacher.

Before my mom or stepdad or whoever the fuck was in could open the door, I continued walking, feeling hot tears run down my face. I twisted my promise ring around my finger, knowing that everything he'd said was lies, knowing that everything I'd said had just fallen on deaf ears.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I ignored it, the same way I ignored the sting in my arm, the throb of an oncoming headache. I ignored it all.

I didn't know where I was going, but somehow I ended up at a familiar house, and without thinking I went up and knocked on the door. There were footsteps, the scrape of a chain, and then the door swung open to reveal someone I'd neither seen nor spoken to for way too long.

His eyes widened, and he ran a hand over the stubble on his chin. "Frank? What the -"

I gave him a guilty smile. "Hey, Bob."