Stop Me Going Home (REVAMPED)

Chapter 1

Frank has secrets.

Frank had always hated his home life. His mom never understood his problems, and if anything, she just disregarded him as a whole. It was like this for as long as Frank can remember. His relationship with his mother was never anything special. She always thought that since he was a boy, he can take care of himself, and he doesn't really need her to hold his hand through it all. That, of course, was fine; Frank never developed a huge emotional attachment to her anyway. She was his mom, he was her son, and that's all it needed to be.

When he was only twelve, Frank was diagnosed with the first of his few mental illnesses to come, that one being depression. That was a lot for a twelve year old to take in, and he didn't really understand what it even meant. He was just in his first year of middle school at the time of his diagnosis, and he didn't know how to cope. His depression was bad, and his mental health had been declining in the following months.

The years following that diagnosis weren't the brightest. It wasn't until eighth grade that it got too much to bear. The month after school started, the day before his birthday, Frank decided he'd had enough. He needed to feel something, anything. All he wanted was something to fill the void his fourteen year old heard had. The night before his fifteenth birthday, he decided to do something he'd never done before. He went into his garage where his father's old tool kit had been, and he opened it for the hundredth time, already knowing it's contents he's stared at so much without ever touching. This time was different, though, Frank was planning this the entire day while he was at school. He decided when his mother goes to sleep, he'll down some of her liquor and head out here, which he did. Inside the toolbox, there were just a few scrap tools that his father left behind for Frank and his mother, in case they ever need to fix something. The box remained mostly untouched, until Frank discovered it again about a year prior. That's how he knew there were razors kept in it.

He was drunk and hurt, and he had seen on the internet that people often do things that'll scar just for the high of it. He needed to feel again, and like every other person that became just another statistic, he believed that this would stop his pain. Alcohol was never a normal fluid to be in his system, as he had see what it had done to his mother. On the rare occurrence he did have it, he never liked it too much, it always felt sour after. He drank a lot that night though, and that might have been the reason that he went farther than he originally intended to. He wanted maybe ten cuts at most, but ten turned into thirteen, and thirteen turned into the fourteenth being the one.

Lucky number fourteen was high up on his forearm, and it was too deep. He knew it was bad when it started spurting blood, unlike the other thirteen that were slowly oozing down his pale arm.

The rest of that night was mostly a blur. Frank doesn't know how he ended up at the hospital, but he ended up staying there for two and a half weeks as doctors allowed his wounds to heal. He then went home, his mother acted as though nothing happened, and he carried on about his life, never mentioning the incident.

High school eventually started, and since that last October, Frank hadn't touched a blade since, but he knew his mom never took them away or even bothered to hide them, his mess from that night is still in the garage to be taken care of at a later date.

Frank didn't have any close friends after his accidental hospital stay, so freshmen year was pretty lonely. Frank was still depressed, and that ended up warping into a never ending boredom rather than something else drastic. His sad was still there, but he never ended up getting his sparkle back, those hope and life values most seem to have.

Music was always something that Frank related to, it was always something that could keep him here, kept him feeling. Frank saved up enough money to buy himself a guitar during the summer before freshmen year, and he's been addicted to it ever since. Concerts, too, were always something that he enjoyed, and he skipped school late November that year to go to a Green Day concert. It was something he never felt before. He's been to plenty of concerts before, he'd even seen Green Day once before, but it wasn't the usual.