I've been on the streets officially one week. The first day was rough, but I managed to stay somewhat safe. I just walked around and people saw it as normal. I got away with sleeping against some bookshop, it was cold though and the ground was covered in snow but it was a nice little tuck away. The manager made me leave the next morning so it's not like it mattered much.
The second day, I had found myself a nice little bench in a park I didn't know existed. It was kind of pretty actually, I would've loved to go there with Remington and just draw all day. But I didn't have anything to draw with and I was alone, so I stayed there, doing nothing but trying to stay warm all day and praying. There was a gas station near here, a 7/11, and I used the bathroom there. A bit of a walk, down the street a little, but that's okay. I was just grateful that I had a place to use the bathroom.
On the fifth day, I started coughing and sneezing. I was always cold, I thought I was surely dying. I had just the white shirt and black slacks, once clean now dirtied. I had socks and shoes, thank God, but nothing else. And it was still December. For some reason, my mind wouldn't drift away from the cold which was strange for me because I'd been trained to be unbothered by it. Put it out of your mind and focus on something warm, but my mind refused to focus on warmth right now. It was just cold.
The sixth day, the final day of December, is when the trouble began. A group of four guys and two girls came up to me and one of the guys dragged me off my bench before they all began kicking me. One of the girls was standing back and watching though, it might've been the heals she wore or maybe it was the dress that hugged her knees tightly, but she hung back. The other girl was wearing black boots and baggy pants though, and all of the guys dressed similar to her.
One guy asked if I had money to which I said no, but they patted me down anyway and quite frankly I let them because I had nothing and also I was too cold and in pain to move. The guy checking me down had short blonde hair and a beard, and he swore when he found that I had in fact, no money.
Then he groped me and I tried to flinch away, but he just chuckled as he retracted his hand before standing up and signalling for the group to leave. The six of them had then walked away, and I haven't seen them since.
Today, on day seven, I decided to move. I didn't want to stay here at the park but I couldn't move last night. So I took the opportunity now, and pushed myself up to my feet. I groaned, I probably looked awful. I had blood from my mouth smeared on the back of my hand and I was probably bruised. Not to forget being constantly flushed from how FUCKING COLD it is. I couldn't feel my fingers anymore as I hobbled along with the wind ripping through my thin clothes and had resorted to sticking them in my mouth for warmth.
I staggered down the sidewalk along the street, leaving tacks in the snow. Eventually, I came across a nice little alleyway, dark and seemingly empty. It belonged to some building with bright neon signs on it and letters that I was too tired to read and what looked like a hotel, or motel. Did I mention I was tired? And cold?
So I pushed my feet forward until my legs collapsed under me and my head began spinning as I sat in the snow. I hadn't eaten anything since the night before my father had kicked me out and I took a painful beating just yesterday. My body most likely hated me. I was only right at the entrance of the alley, still in view of anyone passing by, but I couldn't move any further.
My spine decided it didn't want to support me anymore and I fell completely over, my face landing in numbing snow. Fuck, it was like a thousand little needles poking at my skin but they were the temperature of ice cubes. My eyes drifted shut and blackness surrounded me. A high ringing sound pierced my ears and I was out.
***
"Hey, kid. Kid! Are you okay? Hey!"
My mouth slipped open slightly and a small breath of air escaped my lips. I could now feel that someone was taping my shoulder and I fluttered my eyes a little, trying to will them to open. My back was on the ground now, snow fluttering in a dainty manor only to maliciously land on my face.
"Oh my god, kid, you scared me," the person sighed. The voice was male and he had an accent that was almost undetectable. I didn't have much experience with accents, but I could imagine him saying 'coffee' as 'cawfee'. That kind of accent.
I managed to force my eyelids open and shivered from how cold I was, groaning slightly. I took in the look of this guy, he had black hair that was relatively short and a tad bit longer on the top. He had something black on his neck, and a set of hazel eyes that were staring directly at me. I hoped the thing on his neck wasn't a tattoo, I was taught that people with tattoos didn't go to heaven when they died.
A wave of coolness hit me and I shivered again, my clothes soaked and frozen stiff from the snow. I didn't want to look pathetic in front of this man, but really I had no choice. My body was doing it's own thing. I remembered all those resistance trainings that my father had made my brothers and I do, how he would tell us that 'pain is just in your head'. He'd trained us to be in control of our own bodies. Even sexual urges, he'd trained us against those too, but those memories were ones that made me uncomfortable. I guess everything I was taught left my system when I left the church because right in that moment I was shivering against my will.
"What's your name?" he asked me kindly, his eyes displaying sadness and concern. It was weird.
I tried to sit up so I could talk to him like a normal person but my ribs stopped me with their aching, so I ended up wincing and crying out sharply before falling back onto the ground. My face would've flushed in embarrassment, but it was most likely already red and I couldn't feel it from the cold. I coughed, surprised to find specks of fresh blood on my hand that had flown from my mouth. The culprit was more than likely a cut inside my lip, but the guy didn't know that and he seemed to get really tense and worried when I coughed again, wincing at the pain in my sides.
"Fuck, um," he said, dragging his eyes over my body. "It's late. I can take you to my place, get you something warm. Is that okay?" I looked at the sky behind him and found that it was late. The sky was darkening, and this man wanted to help me.
My jaw dropped, he was being so nice to me. Or did he have other intentions? Maybe he was just an amazing human being, kind and generous. I tried to form words but they were stuck in my throat so I just gave him the most grateful look I could muster. Thankfully he got the message and smiled at me, his face still partially sad. Why?
He picked me up bridal style and I groaned, my face contorting as he touched a spot on my back that particularly hurt. He quickly apologized and shifted his arms, and I honestly didn't know how I would repay this kind man.
He carried me through the cold and then a doorway, but my eyes were shut and my face was rolled into his chest, the fur ringing the hood of his jacket brushing against my forehead. I didn't open them until he set me down on a soft surface and I took a look around. I didn't get to look for long though, because the lights were bright and my head began spinning as my vision went unfocused. I groaned and screwed my eyelids back shut, twisting my body into a fabricy wall. I gathered that I was most likely on a couch. The guy put a hand on my arm and I curled up, my ears ringing again.
"Kid... Can you talk to me?"
I groaned and his words just swirled around colorfully before my eyelids. Then once again, I was endorsed in darkness.
But this time, my mind didn't go to sleep with me. No, it stayed up to torment me how it would when I was young. When my unconscious cries would wake Sebastian or Remington and one of them would hold me until I calmed down, hushing me and telling me to be quiet.
I stood on the street in front of the church. The air was still and yellowish, frozen in time. My clothes had been restored to their original style, crisp and ironed flat. My hair was combed and clean. The world began to slowly heat up, forming droplets of sweat that emerged on my face and underneath my clothes.
The door opened to reveal my father standing in the doorway. He was holding the bull whip, his mouth pressed into a firm line.
"My son shall not remain a sinner, he will repent for his sins," he spoke, his voice hard.
I fell to my knees and the scenery shifted.
I was on my hands and knees, clinging to the base of the pulpit in the middle of the night. No one would be entering the church tonight, the doors were locked. I didn't have to see it happen to know the pattern. No one would interrupt my begging forgiveness.
The whip cracked, slicing a new gash in my back next to the others, overlapping scars. The whip didn't always pierce the skin, but it did when Father used enough force.
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned!" I cried out, feeling blood dripping down my back.
"Are you ready to be forgiven?" My father asked, setting the whip down.
"Yes," I pleaded. "I'm sorry, I'm ready."
He set the whip down and raised his hands to the sky, his fingers like daggers up to heaven.
"May our Lord and God, Jesus Christ, through the grace and mercies of his love for humankind-,"
I bit my lip to keep from whimpering.
"-forgive you all your transgressions. And I, an unworthy man, by his power given me, forgive and absolve you from all your sins, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit."
He extended a hand to me and pulled me to my feet, the motion sending me into another scene.
A scene that had completely slipped my mind.
I laid on the ground of the park, motionless in the snow as the man with blonde hair and a beard checked me for cash. My father stood in the distance, watching with his hands behind his back as he observed the situation. The man grabbed my crotch and rubbed his thumb over it through my slacks before chuckling and leaving me there.
My father stepped closer to me, towering over my figure in the cold snow. He shook his head in disappointment and he walked away as well. Leaving me alone and freezing.
I woke up with my heartbeat pounding in my chest, my body coated in a thin layer of sweat. I struggled to catch my breath as I sat up and ran my hands through my hair, tugging it slightly. Why had those dreams been put together? What did this all mean?
I used my usual tactic, underlining the main points. The church, repenting, and... oh. Oh.
The realization hit me like a blow to the chest. I had sinned, as unwilling as it was, it was a sin. It was a mix of sloth and lust. Even if I wasn't lusting, someone touched me there and I didn't move to do anything about it.
But I couldn't move.
That's a lie, I'm lying to myself. I must stop. Of course I could move, I am in control of my body. It's will, it's all in my head. I always can force myself to move.
I needed to repent...
The guy who had rescued me cleared his throat and brought me out of my thoughts. I looked over to him, he was watching me with curious and semi-concerned eyes. My cheeks tinged warm and I looked away. This man was a saint.
"U-um are you feeling better?" he asked me, moving to sit on the floor in front of the couch that I was sitting on. He leaned slightly back against a coffee table that separated the couch from a TV. If this man was a saint, why did he have a TV? TV's were made by the devil, playing off of human weakness and making them commit a multitude of sins.
I sat up more, rubbing my eyes. I had a red blanket draped over me, the guy probably put it on me when I was asleep.
"Yeah..." I replied, my hand trailing up to press against my forehead before falling back down to my lap. "Thank you, sir. You are very generous."
He huffed a small laugh out, rubbing his hands together. His hands. This guy had tattoos, just as I had feared. He won't go to heaven...
"What's your name?" he asked, and it felt kind of nice because it seemed like he actually cared. Most people asked names out of politeness or awkwardness, but this guy seemed to mean it with every ounce of his soul. His hazel eyes were fixed on me with a lot of care that I wasn't used to.
"Emerson," I told him. "What about you?"
"I'm Frank. Iero, Frank Iero," he told me, adding in his last name after a second. I liked the way he said his last name, it sounded so interesting. I was glad he said it twice.
"I'm pleased to meet your acquaintance, Mr. Iero," I said, formally, just as I was taught. My father told my brothers and I to always be polite.
He flashed me a crooked smile. "It's okay, you can call me Frank, you know."
I nodded, taking a mental note to address him as Frank.
"Um, I can make some hot chocolate if you want some?" he offered, raising his eyebrows.
"Yes please, thank you," I told him, amazed at how kind he was. A lot of people who went to the church were not this kind. Most tended to be a little rude, actually.
He just chuckled again before standing up and walking behind me to where I presumed was the kitchen. It was small, a little half wall was the only separation that it had from the living room. There was a door by the TV to the left of it, probably leading to his bedroom, and another door at the end of the short kitchen ledge, probably a bathroom. Then by the entrance to the kitchen there was another door, but this one looked thicker, more like a front door. The walls were like a yellowish cream color and the couch I was sitting on was brown and old looking. The floor was wood planks, not carpet, similar to the church only the church's planks were thicker and old and not smoothed down like these ones were.
After a few minutes, Frank came back holding two mugs and sat down beside me on the couch, well more like in front of me because I was still angled like I was laying only I was sitting up. He sat at the same angle so we were facing each other and handed me a black mug that contained something that smelled amazing. I'd never had hot chocolate before.
I took a small sip, the warm taste filling my mouth with... sweetness..
Sugar.
Sugar was a sin, it could boost lust for both food and sex.
And I had accepted it...
"So, Emerson," Frank started, his voice once again drifting back to a more concerned tone. "How did you- uh. I should get you back to your family-"
My heart dropped. I couldn't explain it, but I didn't want to go back. Is this how Sebastian felt?
"-did you run away, or something?"
I slowly shook my head and his brows furrowed. "I didn't run away, m-my father doesn't want to see me anymore, I shamed him." I bowed my head down a little, looking at my hands that were wrapped around this warm, very warm, and amazing feeling mug.
"Oh," is all he said. After a while of studying me he added, "I can talk to him, if you want. I'm not really suited to take care of another human being, especially not..."
I looked up, both a little hurt and curious at the same time. "Not what?" I inquired slowly.
He fumbled for words as I stared at him in question, and he eventually came up with "I- I mean, you looked like you were having a nightmare or something just now, and you look like you've been mugged, and I don't know how to take care of people and I have a job that I have to go to every day so you'd be alone, and what if something happens, I mean what if you get sick, and I don't know how to handle these things," He stopped himself in his ramble, running a hand through his hair in a stressed manor.
"Oh," I said. And then it was quiet.
"Do you wanna shower?" he asked suddenly, making me snap my eyes to him in attention. "I mean, I could find some clothes for you while you get clean and stuff... we should probably get you warmed up a little better."
My mouth parted like a fish, gaping at him. Was he serious? He was offering to let me shower here. I wished he didn't have tattoos, he was such a pure and sweet person, he doesn't deserve to go to hell.
I made myself nod and whispered out a small "thank you," with big eyes. He smiled at me and pushed his lips to the side, smiling but to the left.
***
I stood in front of the mirror with a towel around my waist. I'd taken a short cold shower, like I always did at the church. Frank hadn't come in to give me clothes yet, but it didn't really cross my mind as I was distractedly admiring all my bruises. The worst one was just above my left hip, the other worst one was on my right ribcage. They looked... ugly. I just stood there until suddenly the door opened and I jumped back with a yelp, startled.
It was Frank, holding a set of clothes in the hand. His eyes were wide and he stood there frozen, just staring at me. I stood there as well, until his senses returned to him and he began talking quickly.
"I'm so sorry, I thought you would still be in the shower, I mean it wasn't even five minutes so I just figured--"
I didn't respond, only continued to stare at him with my mouth open in shock. Unluckily for me, a certain thick scar caught his eye and he was staring at my chest now. After a moment, he looked back up to my face as concern and sadness filled his eyes once again. It seemed to be a running theme with this kind man. Maybe that's all kindness was, concern and sadness.
He stepped closer to me, forgetting the clothes and leaving them on the sink counter distractedly. His fingers reached out and brushed over the scarred flesh, his mouth parting slightly. His wide eyes met mine.
"What, what is this?" his voice was higher than it was earlier and he looked almost mad. It was my fault, wasn't it. I had a cross on me to remind me to be good, so that must mean I'm bad, and he probably doesn't want to be around bad people...
"I- m-my father gave them to my brothers and I s-so we would know that Jesus was always watching, and to remind us to n-not sin," I answered truthfully, nervous at how he clenched his hand that had been on my skin into a fist at the word 'father'.
I braced myself for a hit, but he just stood there.
"I'm sorry this happened to you," he told me. I frowned, confused as to what he meant.
"You showered already?" he asked me, changing the topic.
"Yes?" I answered, unsure as to what he was getting at.
He frowned, reaching a gentle hand out and touching my arm with the back of his hand. "You're still cold."
"I take cold showers," I answered. "Warm showers take away from a person's humbleness," I said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Emerson you nearly froze to death, you gotta warm up," he told me in a softer tone.
I wrapped my arms around myself, debating what to do. I didn't want to be bad, I refused to be a sinner. But there was some truth to what Frank was saying..
"You can take a warm shower, it's okay," Frank told me, looking into my eyes. "I-I'll leave so you can be in private," he added awkwardly.
I nodded, and he turned to leave but I grabbed his arm and stopped him. He turned around, expression quizzical, and I quickly wrapped him in a hug. He froze for a second before hesitantly hugging me back. I noticed we were about the same height, which was funny because I was only 15 and this guy was an adult.
He turned his head so it was completely around my shoulder and he let out a small gasp. He probably saw my back. Father said to never show anyone because they wouldn't understand, most people let themselves go unpunished. But they also never made it to heaven either.
I whispered another thank you into his neck and pulled away, seeing that his eyes looked a litle glassy. He just nodded and excused himself, leaving me to take a warm shower.
And so I did, I probably spent about 5 entire minutes just standing under the water. I had already washed my hair and body when I took the cold shower, but now I had nothing to do but try to get warm.
I did get warm, and I felt slightly better.
***
When I left the bathroom, Frank was laying a blanket out on the couch and tucking it in. There was also a bowl of popcorn resting on the coffee table. I was dressed in baggy grey sweatpants and a lose shirt with the word 'Misfits' over the chest with a weird face thing. It was a T-shirt, so it displayed my arms and the bruises on them I had acquired during the attack when the the group of people were looking for money.
Frank looked up and greeted my presence with a smile that I couldn't help but return.
"Hey kiddo, feel a bit better?" he asked me warmly. My smile faltered for a moment because that's exactly what Sebastian used to say to me. Hey kiddo. Frank seemed more concerned so I tried to smile again to make him stop worrying, but I'm pretty sure it just seemed fake. Thankfully, he didn't press the matter.
"Um, I have movies, and popcorn. You wanna watch something? You can pick, if you have a favorite movie we can go with that even."
I moved over to him and sat with him on the couch, admitting a small, "I've never seen a movie before."
His mouth formed an O and he picked up a case, flicking through several CD boxes. He pulled out one that had a guy dressed in a way that I quite adored. Like a pirate. My mother had taught me about pirates. I thought they were very sinful and wrong, but there was something freeing about them. I also liked their style, although people should only dress in modest and plain clothing.
"You like this?" he asked, catching me staring at the man on the cover. He had cool little braids and beads in his hair and black makeup on his eyes.
I nodded and he got up, inserting the CD into some kind of weird box thing with lights. He grabbed a remote an turned the TV on, and a picture of the same man but with three other people behind him filled the screen. Frank selected the 'play' button and returned to join me on the couch. We sat side by side and he pulled his feet up onto the couch, I did the same. Usually feet were not allowed on furniture, but Frank was doing it so I assumed it was safe to do so.
I leaned up against him with the popcorn bowl in between our legs, already feeling exhausted. But the movie was really captivating, and I payed attention to a lot of it. After a while though, I noticed that Frank wasn't watching it. He was staring at the coffee table deeply in thought, frowning slightly with his jaw set.
"Frank?" I asked timidly.
"Hm?" he hummed, pulling his lips in and looking to me with partially raised eyebrows.
"Are you.. okay?"
"Yeah, why? What happened?" he then asked, but he still seemed distracted. It could easily be my fault. I mean, we just met and I was in his living space watching a movie with him.
"You just seem distracted, is all," I answered, perturbed.
"Oh," he sighed out. "Yeah, just thinking."
"Is it because of me?" I asked him, my voice dropping in sadness because I knew that it likely was.
"What? No, I mean sorta, but no, it's not your fault Emerson," he told me, looking into my eyes. He seemed to hesitate over his next words, furrowing his eyebrows again and twisting his mouth in his internal debate. "Were you-" he shook his head as if to clear it. "Em did your father... abuse you?"
My eyes widened and I sat up off of him, shifting on my hands so that I could face him.
"I saw your back, Emerson. And the cross on your chest... if your father was abusing you--"
"No, he would never do that," I told him defensively, making my point clear. "My father would never hurt me if not to teach a lesson. He loved us, that's why he did it."
Frank looked doubtful and sad, I had no clue why. My father only whipped us for punishment and to ask God and our Lord forgiveness when we sinned. Sure, I didn't like it some days and wondered what it was like to leave, but I would never say that my father was a bad man. He was honorable and righteous. He wanted the best for my brothers and I.
"Who do you mean by 'us'?" he further questioned, his frown increasing.
I opened my mouth but made no sound. Why was I talking to a stranger? Did he need to know? But the way he was looking at me, I just wanted to spill my soul in front of him and throw myself off a building if he rejected it.
"My brothers and I..." I answered reluctantly, lowering my eyes and tone. "Remington and Sebastian, they're both older. Sebastian moved out last year." I bit my lip and tears stung my eyes but I didn't let them fall. I rarely cried, though they would get glassy sometimes.
He went silent, just watching me stare at my hands. A fighting scene was playing across the TV but neither of us watched it.
Eventually Frank spoke up, his own curiosity getting the best of him.
"Why did your father kick you out?" he asked. I cringed. He quickly added, "You don't have to answer that, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said something like that."
"No, it's okay," I told him, looking up to meet his face. "My brother, Remmy, he had a crush on this other guy, Andy," I said, sinking back down onto the couch a little. Frank made a surprised noise and I went on, "On Andy's birthday, Rem was hanging out with him and then they didn't come back, even when the convention was over. My father, he found them-" I shuddered and took a breath. "Rem was sinning with another male. Kissing in the bathroom. It was wrong."
Frank's mouth parted, but he let me continue.
"My father found out that I knew about it, he said I couldn't be saved," I looked down again in shame.
Frank was quiet for a moment before quietly stating, "Sometimes being saved is what really destroys you."
He put a gentle hand under my chin and tilted my head up, just staring at my face.
We settled back down onto the couch and watched the rest of the movie until we both ended up falling asleep, my head in Frank's chest.
I could only hope that my mind would go to sleep with me this time.
A/N AAAAAAAA lolallmystoriessuck. im also not editing again. oop. Welp. hope ur enjoying it so far? maybe? Maybe not?
love yall!
--sage x :)