Frank's getting better and better. Mikey might just be fed up with Gerard. Frank has a new kind of nightmare.
Frank sat there in his typical arm chair.
Opening and closing his hand. Something he found he could do. But that was pretty much it. Yay, progress, he thought sarcastically.
In two days, he had learned to try and push his limits. And honestly, he was quite limited.
His mom was watching some traumatic LifeTime movie that was so obviously bond to have a happy ending. Her ice tea melting, and soon to fall asleep.
Frank didn't understand why she felt the constant need to always be around. He could fair well without her, of that much he was certain. Though his mom's random blather was entraining, mostly.
He watched with numb enthusiasm as a blonde girl sat in her attic, sobbing her heart out.
Frank didn't have a chance in hell.
He just wanted to be able to move his fingers. He wanted to be able to write. That'd make his life so much easier.
He hand laid open flat, in his lap.
He wanted, wanted. His finger to move. Just one. Simply one, was his goal. For today. For this week. Soon.
He pushed, pushed his finger. His mind, he did.
Willing it to move.
Even just a bit.
Aggravation and hopelessness pushing down on him, resting on his shoulders, threatening to crush him, to eat him whole.
Then, Frank's first finger slid backward.
He did it!
And he curled it. The room filled with the cracking of his knuckle. The sound making him wince slightly.
He felt his lips drag up, into a broadening smile.
Mikey sat down. He couldn't even count on both hands how many coffees he'd had anymore. They were stacking up, to say the least. His brain was on haywire. He hadn't left the room since he had entered it. Two days ago.
Gerard's heart was beating consistently, as the beeping monitors he was hooked up to proved.
Mikey had a relatively small fear, that if he left, that beeping might cease.
That wasn't really what kept him there, though.
A tired, pretty nurse came in. She handed him another coffee.
He forced himself to smile as best as he could. It probably had the opposite affect of the reassurance Mikey had be aiming for.
"Thanks, Janet." He nodded at her.
"He'll be okay, Mikey." She said soothingly, as she took more blood samples.
She had been there the other night when he'd had a nervous brake down, comforting him, and rubbing Mikey's shoulder.
Mikey just didn't know how much more he could take. He had had so much Gerard drama in the past years.
And the paramedics had barely been able to bring him back. Officially, Gerard did kind of die. They had been about to give up and call time of death when Gerard's heart started to whisper back into life.
And Mikey had been there witnessing the whole thing.
He had thought his big brother was going to die, again.
How many times would he have to think that?
Gerard eyes opened. He blinked at the painfully blinding light.
Everything was white.
Everything was blurred.
He could faintly make things out.
Was he dead?
The idea scared Gerard very much.
The twisted his head in all directions, things were beginning to regain focus. Things still had a blurry tint that made him want to constantly rub his eyes.
Because he could remember nothing...
Frank had this, this dream. It was repeatedly haunting him.
The nightmares of his father long gone, or so he kept telling himself. Though, they were always on the edge of his mind. Never truly gone, and fully prepared to suffocate him.
His newest dream, he was in an empty whiteness. He had the use of arms and legs in his dreams. At first it had awestruck him, but the feeling didn't last long. In the dream he was numb and dull, like his body had been shot with novacaine. And Frank would run off into the white, where the floor was hard to tell from the ceiling, only so far until he would hit into an invisible wall. Only to turn and try a different direction hitting another wall. Walls, walls, walls. Wall after wall.
There was no escape and no where to go.
Being able to do nothing was the scariest thing for Frank.
I was thinking very Black Parade-esque for this chapter.
So, got any theories?
What about the little girl? Or the shit she spewed? Who was she?
I enjoy hearing what you guys think.
Okie Dokie I gots two questions I want and or need answers to. Here goes:
Do you want more Frankie?
And, Car Crash or Cancer? (Decide BEFORE you try to figure out what I'm talking about. Because I'm pretty sure you have absolutely no clue what I'm talking about.)