needles • frerard

eight

Muffled voices. Slow beeps. The room is hazy as I open my eyes to find myself in a hospital bed. There's a doctor hovering by me, but after flipping through my chart, he walks away.

Everything is sore. There's a pressure on my hand and when I look down, Gerard is holding it. My heart jumps. I vaguely remember asking for him, but I didn't really think he'd be here.

"H-Hey." I say weakly, my throat feeling scratchy. The taller one immediately snaps his head up, eyes wide. "Hi, Oreo." He smiles. "How l-long was I o-out?" "Couple hours." "W-Were you h-h-here the whole time?" He nods. "Aw, you d-didn't have to d-do that."

"I know."

We look at eachother for a second, though I can only really see out of one eye. Then someone walks in. It's a cop.

"Hey, Frank Iero, right?" He asks, holding a notepad and a pen. I eye him nervously, sitting up against the pillows. I wince at the motion. "Uh, y-yeah."

"Is it okay if I ask you a few questions?"

I glance at Gerard. "You'll be okay, Oreo." So I look over at the officer and nod.

"Do you know who attacked you?"

There's the million dollar question. "My boyfriend." I mutter. "And his name?" "Bob." "Last name?" "Bryar."

"And, uh, will you be pressing charges?"

I pause for a moment. If I press charges, he'll be gone and I'll have nothing. I'll be back on the streets like I was when I was 16, spending all my money on drugs, selling myself when I had to buy food instead.

"No."

"Frankie, please." Gerard says.

"I said no."

"Could I talk to him alone for a moment?" The black haired man asks the cop. He nods and leaves.

"Frank, I know that it probably isn't my place to say any of this, but I will anyways. This is your chance. I mean, I've only known you for like a month but I've seen you with a dislocated wrist, a split nose, a black eye. If you don't press charges, then he'll continue to hurt you. Doll, you deserve so much better than him. You're wonderful. You're smart and handsome and so, so strong and you don't deserve to have someone like him hurt you like this. Frankie, please do it. Think about every single time he's laid a hand on you, drunk or not. If he sees that you can wind up in the hospital and still not say anything, he'll get so much worse. You can't let him get away with hurting you. I know you can do this. All you have to do is tell them you're pressing charges, then it'll all be over."

My eyes are brimming with tears by the time he stops talking. "I k-know, but h-h'ell find a w-way out, G-Gerard. He'll c-come back."

"No, he won't. I'll protect you, Oreo. All you have to do is press charges, and he'll be gone forever. I promise." He squeezes my hand tightly. "O-Ok. Y-You promise?"

"I promise."

I nod weakly. "Okay."

"I'll go get the guy." Gerard says, nodding towards the door. He goes to stand up and I feel a jolt of fear. I grab his wrist, my eyes automatically widening. "D-don't go."

"I'll just be a second, hun. Just a quick second and then I'll come right back." Gerard says, sounding sure. I reluctantly let go of his wrist, nodding my head. I watch as the black-haired man walks over to the door, opens it, and says something I can't hear to the police officer. He comes back in. Gerard sits down and I grasp his hand anxiously, the tight grip making me feel a little safer. His hands are soft and warm and even my whole body is sore, I can't let go. I can't.

"So, Frank. Are you going to press charges against him?" With a shaky, shaky voice, I answer. "Yes."

Gerard squeezes my hand. "There. It's over, you're safe now."

"Do you want us putting a guard outside your door, just in case?" The policeman asks. I shake my head.

"N-No, I d-doubt h-he'll come here."

He won't, right?