Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > I've got a dirty, little secret.. Or maybe one to many.
Lay still like the dead, from the razor to the rosary..
8 ReviewsFrank is a broken man.
Ladies and Gentleman, this, is almost the end! Sob with me! D:
Anyway, I'm actually writing a new story.. I'd be very grateful if you could take a look. :)
http://www.ficwad.com/story/164635
Standing in the kitchen, his thoughts running wild, Frank sighs, listening intently to the soft drip.. drip.. drip.. on the window. The dreadful whether outside resembles his, also horrible, day; Frank had just packed necessities for his 'trip'. And it was not a trip to look forward to.
He was to be sent to the hospital immediately.
As in, immediately.
He hadn't had even a minute to sit down and think over what the Doctor had told him.. Just 'pack, eat and drink, leave'. So now, Frank leaned against the kitchen counter, chewing the inside of his mouth. He couldn't help but think over what the doctor had said.. or what happened.
"Frank," Dr Lemmings said, a slight look of pity floating in his green irises. "You'll have to leave straight away."
"Okay.. Well.. I'll pack tomor-" Frank frowned as Dr. Lemmings interrupted his line of hurried speech. Frank was still trying to convince himself that this was real life, let alone when he'd pack!
"No, you need to leave immediately, Frank," Ian said, frowning. "Your case is too serious to risk anything happening. Get home, pack, have a drink, then leave. You need to go."
"Ian, you've got to understand.. I'm still getting to grips with my emotions on this whole dilemma."
"hat stupid word for this situation, Frank thought, it's more life or death, not a fucking case of what I want to eat!
"And this is all so new to me.. Can't I just have a day to prepare myself?" Frank's tone was pleading; he simply wanted a few hours to prepare himself. Emotion would build on him, otherwise. Frank could feel Gerard's sympathetic gaze burn through him, causing his nausea and anxiousness to increase.
"I'm sorry, Frank. But we really cannot risk you hurting your loved ones-"
"My loved one is already dead!" Frank spat, glaring at Dr. Lemmings.
For the first time that session, the doctor was visibly nervous. He spoke the wrong words to the wrong man, especially as he was so fragile at that moment.
"Friends and family, Frank," Ian Lemmings said, his voice is quiet, but still projecting a sort of superiority. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to hurt Gerard here?"
Frank gulped, looking back to his friend. "Of course not," he whispered hoarsely, shaking his head. "Fine. What time will they come to collect me?"
Shivering, Frank practically drowns himself in the glass of he poured himself whilst reminiscing. His thoughts have stretched so far by now; what if he did kill Jamia? He would hate himself! There's one thing he knows, though, right now. One little thing.
Nothing will ever be the same for him.
He'll probably be in the hospital for days, months, years.. He won't see a fan in years, and he'll only see his band mates weekly.. That is, if they'd want to still see him after all of this. Heck, Frank wouldn't want to see himself! He's a sick, sick man. Or.. the other Frank is, anyway.
Frank gasps then groans, finally remembering the issue of the band.
What's he to do? Would they split up? Go on a hiatus? Replace him?!
Frank shivers; that's a thought he really doesn't want to think of. He's always been MCR's biggest fan, ever since he first heard them, and he finally got the opportunity to be in them! And he had for many years since.. But now..
He's only 29, he doesn't want to be stuck in a Asylum for God knows how long! What, five years? Ten? Half his life?! Dr. Lemmings had said his case was extreme, who's to say he doesn't get locked up for the rest of his life?!
"Frank!" Gerard shakes Frank silly, staring at him worriedly. He'd been trying to talk to him for a matter of minutes now.
Flicking his vision to Gerard, the glassy look in Frank's eyes disappear. "Hm?" Frank replies, turning his back to Gerard and placing his cup in the sink. He fills it with water, listening to the soft slosh of the crystal-clear liquid.
Gerard says nothing, but keeps watching his broken friend. This month has not been Frank's kindest. His wife got murdered, most probably by him, and he found out he was c r a z y.
Or, that's how Frank had put it in the car.
"What about the guys? How.. how will I tell them? They might hate me.. or ignore me.. or be so sympathetic that I'll.." Frank's voice fades out. He won't say it, he doesn't want too. Frank likes being there for his friends, not having them coo over him. It annoys him, in a way. And that's what he was getting at. What if he hurt them?
Still facing the sink, Frank doesn't turn around. He had just voiced one of his many worries, and could feel threatening tears crawl into his eyes. He tries desperately not to make his voice waver as he leans over the sink, shoulders hunching to protect his broken soul. "I wouldn't be able to look at myself again."
"Frank.." Gerard says softly, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "They'll understand. I'm sure they'll be great about it. It's not your fault at all. It's no one's fault. They'll keep in contact, I'm sure of it. We'll all visit you whenever we can-"
"And what fucking good will that do?!" Frank spits venomously. "My wife will still be dead, you'll all still be scared of me and I'll still be fucking crazy!" Swinging his hands outwards, Frank knocks the sugar and coffee pots to the floor, breathing heavily, as he watches the pottery fall to the floor and explode into small shards of glazed clay. Just like his heart when Jamia died.
When he killed her.
I'm a sick, sick bastard, he thinks angrily, stepping through the shattered pots and listening to them crunch beneath his feet. He's not wearing any shoes, so the sharp pieces slice at his feet, blood trailing along behind him.
Gerard's officially scared. He knew something like this would happen. Frank's wound himself up so much, he's turned into a ticking time bomb. Gerard knows it's best not to say anything, before the worst happens..
"SAY SOMETHING, DAMMIT GERARD!" Frank slams his hand down to the table, growling.
"Please, Frank, calm down. You've just told yourself things tha-"
"Calm down? Calm down..?" For a second, Frank looks like his thinking, and his soft, but slightly on edge, tone would have you think so. But he's furious, repeating his thoughts to himself.
They don't understand. You're sick; crazy! You killed Jamia, you killed others, too. You've raped and beaten. You're a sick man, Frank. You're so, so twisted.. Who would love you now? Who would stick by you now? How could someone possibly want to be with you anymore? You're insane, sick and completely violent. You don't even want to be with yourself.
"I. Will not. Calm down," Frank spits, his face turning redder by the second. His fists are clenched, eyebrows knotted. "You calm the FUCK DOWN!" Frank's eyes flash, turning into venomous daggers.
Gasping, Gerard quickly backs away from the dangerous man, shaking. Frank grins manically and turns around, pulling out a huge, sharp knife. The knife Gerard had seen him sharpen only yesterday. It glints threateningly, sending a trail of shivers down Gerard's spine. He's frozen to the spot in fear, just like he was the other night when Frank had gave him the same look. So Gerard knew..
..This wasn't Frank anymore.
"Frank, Frank please, come back to me.."
"Oh, come now Gerard.. Calm down." The younger man grins sickly, steadily approaching Gerard. Glass is stuck in his feet, emitting crunches at every step.
To Gerard, it only intensifies the fear.
"It's only a game.. Only an innocent, little game," he laughs.
Before Gerard can even breathe, Frank has lunged at him, menacing eyes staring at Gerard hungrily.
"Oh god, Frank, no, please!" Gerard finds himself sobbing as Frank presses the cold blade to his throat, grinning manically. "Please Frank, oh God.. PLEASE!"
Laughing at the petrified man beneath him, Frank places a hand on his cheek.. just so he can increase his fear. Taunt him. "Gerard, it's going to be okay," he says, his rasping breaths crawling across his victim's ghostly skin.
If Gerard moves, he's dead. If he doesn't, he's dead.
The knife is too far in too escape, and Frank's too quick to avoid.
Gerard has never been so scared in his life. He knows he's going to die.
With a final sob, Gerard closes his eyes.
And Frank, with a wicked laugh, slashes the knife across his Adam's apple, and watches as the blood seeps out of the wound. He cackles, more and more, his echoing laughs growing thicker and thicker as he stares down at his bloody victim, smirking. But suddenly, his eyes soften and they're back to their loving pools. As they widen, his heart plummets to the floor; stabbed by thousands of nails.
Gagging, Frank starts to sob, hugging his best friend close to his chest. He's empty, just like Gerard's corpse.
Frank's a murderer, and he can't help but be scared of himself. He wants to hide forever, burst into flames, fall off a cliff, bleed to death, beg for mercy, be well, be fine.. or die.
Yes.. Frank definitely wants to die.
As the empty man blubbers over the loss of his best friend, hunched over the limp corpse and hugging it, he thinks of his friends and family. He thinks about Mikey. Poor, poor little Mikey.
Broken and defeated, Frank stays clinging to the body, his heartbreaking sobs still echoing as the gentle pitter patter of the rain accompanies him.
Drip.. drip.. drip..
So, what do we think? I think there will be two or one more chapter(s)! I'm sorry this chapter isn't the best.. heh.. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! :)
Gratzi for being such wonderful readers, I love you! xox
Anyway, I'm actually writing a new story.. I'd be very grateful if you could take a look. :)
http://www.ficwad.com/story/164635
Standing in the kitchen, his thoughts running wild, Frank sighs, listening intently to the soft drip.. drip.. drip.. on the window. The dreadful whether outside resembles his, also horrible, day; Frank had just packed necessities for his 'trip'. And it was not a trip to look forward to.
He was to be sent to the hospital immediately.
As in, immediately.
He hadn't had even a minute to sit down and think over what the Doctor had told him.. Just 'pack, eat and drink, leave'. So now, Frank leaned against the kitchen counter, chewing the inside of his mouth. He couldn't help but think over what the doctor had said.. or what happened.
"Frank," Dr Lemmings said, a slight look of pity floating in his green irises. "You'll have to leave straight away."
"Okay.. Well.. I'll pack tomor-" Frank frowned as Dr. Lemmings interrupted his line of hurried speech. Frank was still trying to convince himself that this was real life, let alone when he'd pack!
"No, you need to leave immediately, Frank," Ian said, frowning. "Your case is too serious to risk anything happening. Get home, pack, have a drink, then leave. You need to go."
"Ian, you've got to understand.. I'm still getting to grips with my emotions on this whole dilemma."
"hat stupid word for this situation, Frank thought, it's more life or death, not a fucking case of what I want to eat!
"And this is all so new to me.. Can't I just have a day to prepare myself?" Frank's tone was pleading; he simply wanted a few hours to prepare himself. Emotion would build on him, otherwise. Frank could feel Gerard's sympathetic gaze burn through him, causing his nausea and anxiousness to increase.
"I'm sorry, Frank. But we really cannot risk you hurting your loved ones-"
"My loved one is already dead!" Frank spat, glaring at Dr. Lemmings.
For the first time that session, the doctor was visibly nervous. He spoke the wrong words to the wrong man, especially as he was so fragile at that moment.
"Friends and family, Frank," Ian Lemmings said, his voice is quiet, but still projecting a sort of superiority. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to hurt Gerard here?"
Frank gulped, looking back to his friend. "Of course not," he whispered hoarsely, shaking his head. "Fine. What time will they come to collect me?"
Shivering, Frank practically drowns himself in the glass of he poured himself whilst reminiscing. His thoughts have stretched so far by now; what if he did kill Jamia? He would hate himself! There's one thing he knows, though, right now. One little thing.
Nothing will ever be the same for him.
He'll probably be in the hospital for days, months, years.. He won't see a fan in years, and he'll only see his band mates weekly.. That is, if they'd want to still see him after all of this. Heck, Frank wouldn't want to see himself! He's a sick, sick man. Or.. the other Frank is, anyway.
Frank gasps then groans, finally remembering the issue of the band.
What's he to do? Would they split up? Go on a hiatus? Replace him?!
Frank shivers; that's a thought he really doesn't want to think of. He's always been MCR's biggest fan, ever since he first heard them, and he finally got the opportunity to be in them! And he had for many years since.. But now..
He's only 29, he doesn't want to be stuck in a Asylum for God knows how long! What, five years? Ten? Half his life?! Dr. Lemmings had said his case was extreme, who's to say he doesn't get locked up for the rest of his life?!
"Frank!" Gerard shakes Frank silly, staring at him worriedly. He'd been trying to talk to him for a matter of minutes now.
Flicking his vision to Gerard, the glassy look in Frank's eyes disappear. "Hm?" Frank replies, turning his back to Gerard and placing his cup in the sink. He fills it with water, listening to the soft slosh of the crystal-clear liquid.
Gerard says nothing, but keeps watching his broken friend. This month has not been Frank's kindest. His wife got murdered, most probably by him, and he found out he was c r a z y.
Or, that's how Frank had put it in the car.
"What about the guys? How.. how will I tell them? They might hate me.. or ignore me.. or be so sympathetic that I'll.." Frank's voice fades out. He won't say it, he doesn't want too. Frank likes being there for his friends, not having them coo over him. It annoys him, in a way. And that's what he was getting at. What if he hurt them?
Still facing the sink, Frank doesn't turn around. He had just voiced one of his many worries, and could feel threatening tears crawl into his eyes. He tries desperately not to make his voice waver as he leans over the sink, shoulders hunching to protect his broken soul. "I wouldn't be able to look at myself again."
"Frank.." Gerard says softly, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "They'll understand. I'm sure they'll be great about it. It's not your fault at all. It's no one's fault. They'll keep in contact, I'm sure of it. We'll all visit you whenever we can-"
"And what fucking good will that do?!" Frank spits venomously. "My wife will still be dead, you'll all still be scared of me and I'll still be fucking crazy!" Swinging his hands outwards, Frank knocks the sugar and coffee pots to the floor, breathing heavily, as he watches the pottery fall to the floor and explode into small shards of glazed clay. Just like his heart when Jamia died.
When he killed her.
I'm a sick, sick bastard, he thinks angrily, stepping through the shattered pots and listening to them crunch beneath his feet. He's not wearing any shoes, so the sharp pieces slice at his feet, blood trailing along behind him.
Gerard's officially scared. He knew something like this would happen. Frank's wound himself up so much, he's turned into a ticking time bomb. Gerard knows it's best not to say anything, before the worst happens..
"SAY SOMETHING, DAMMIT GERARD!" Frank slams his hand down to the table, growling.
"Please, Frank, calm down. You've just told yourself things tha-"
"Calm down? Calm down..?" For a second, Frank looks like his thinking, and his soft, but slightly on edge, tone would have you think so. But he's furious, repeating his thoughts to himself.
They don't understand. You're sick; crazy! You killed Jamia, you killed others, too. You've raped and beaten. You're a sick man, Frank. You're so, so twisted.. Who would love you now? Who would stick by you now? How could someone possibly want to be with you anymore? You're insane, sick and completely violent. You don't even want to be with yourself.
"I. Will not. Calm down," Frank spits, his face turning redder by the second. His fists are clenched, eyebrows knotted. "You calm the FUCK DOWN!" Frank's eyes flash, turning into venomous daggers.
Gasping, Gerard quickly backs away from the dangerous man, shaking. Frank grins manically and turns around, pulling out a huge, sharp knife. The knife Gerard had seen him sharpen only yesterday. It glints threateningly, sending a trail of shivers down Gerard's spine. He's frozen to the spot in fear, just like he was the other night when Frank had gave him the same look. So Gerard knew..
..This wasn't Frank anymore.
"Frank, Frank please, come back to me.."
"Oh, come now Gerard.. Calm down." The younger man grins sickly, steadily approaching Gerard. Glass is stuck in his feet, emitting crunches at every step.
To Gerard, it only intensifies the fear.
"It's only a game.. Only an innocent, little game," he laughs.
Before Gerard can even breathe, Frank has lunged at him, menacing eyes staring at Gerard hungrily.
"Oh god, Frank, no, please!" Gerard finds himself sobbing as Frank presses the cold blade to his throat, grinning manically. "Please Frank, oh God.. PLEASE!"
Laughing at the petrified man beneath him, Frank places a hand on his cheek.. just so he can increase his fear. Taunt him. "Gerard, it's going to be okay," he says, his rasping breaths crawling across his victim's ghostly skin.
If Gerard moves, he's dead. If he doesn't, he's dead.
The knife is too far in too escape, and Frank's too quick to avoid.
Gerard has never been so scared in his life. He knows he's going to die.
With a final sob, Gerard closes his eyes.
And Frank, with a wicked laugh, slashes the knife across his Adam's apple, and watches as the blood seeps out of the wound. He cackles, more and more, his echoing laughs growing thicker and thicker as he stares down at his bloody victim, smirking. But suddenly, his eyes soften and they're back to their loving pools. As they widen, his heart plummets to the floor; stabbed by thousands of nails.
Gagging, Frank starts to sob, hugging his best friend close to his chest. He's empty, just like Gerard's corpse.
Frank's a murderer, and he can't help but be scared of himself. He wants to hide forever, burst into flames, fall off a cliff, bleed to death, beg for mercy, be well, be fine.. or die.
Yes.. Frank definitely wants to die.
As the empty man blubbers over the loss of his best friend, hunched over the limp corpse and hugging it, he thinks of his friends and family. He thinks about Mikey. Poor, poor little Mikey.
Broken and defeated, Frank stays clinging to the body, his heartbreaking sobs still echoing as the gentle pitter patter of the rain accompanies him.
Drip.. drip.. drip..
So, what do we think? I think there will be two or one more chapter(s)! I'm sorry this chapter isn't the best.. heh.. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! :)
Gratzi for being such wonderful readers, I love you! xox
Log in to rate and review this story