He layed on the bed. It was 3:00 am. He stared up at the ceiling and thought about what happened when he was with Andy not even 15 minutes ago. He thought about how much fucking creepy Andy is. All his make-up... his black eyeliner smudged around his eyes.
He thought about Andy's big head of black fluffy hair. He thought about the scar that Andy draws on the side of his face sometimes with makeup. What a weird guy, he thought.
Frank shut his eyes and began to fall asleep.
"FRANK ANTHONY IERO!"
Frank awoke in a start from the sound of his name being yelled. "FRANK ANTHONY IERO, GET YOUR FUCKING ASS DOWN HERE NOW!" Frank jumped out of bed and headed for downstairs, listening to the voice of his fathers command.
"What dad?!" Frank yelled, rubbing his eyes. "Why the hell are you yelling at me this early in the morning!" He found his father in the kitchen, holding up Frank's sweater. He looked at the time and it was 10:00 am. "What the fuck do you think?"
Frank was confused. He didn't know why his father was so angry. Maybe he found out that Frank had snuck out last night...
"Guess what I found in your sweater!"
...Or maybe he found the cocaine in Frank's sweater.
Frank widened his eyes. Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck shit. "I want you out of the goddamn house! And take your drugs with you, you fucking teenage druggy!" His father yelled. "Found it once, found it twice! Three times is enough! I gave you a warning. NO, I gave you two warnings! I want you out of this house NOW!"
Frank teared up at his fathers words. He heard his mother walk downstairs to see what was going on. Frank stood there, sobbing quietly. His mother walked towards him and put a comforting arm around his shoulders. "What's wrong, honey?" She asked softly.
"He's doing fucking drugs again. I found this in his fucking sweater," his father spat. He tossed the bag of cocaine on the ground in front of Frank and his mom. "Jesus Frank!" His mother yelled. She pushed Frank away and cursed. "For fuck sakes! I thought you were done with that crap!" His mother broke down in tears.
Frank stood there, staring down at the bag of cocaine with teary eyes. He sniffled. "I-I'm sorry mom," he whimpered. "Sorry isn't going to fucking do anything, Frank! You have to leave this fucking house now. I told you, boy. If I EVER see a bag of cocaine again, you're fucking out of here. What do I find a month later?! A BAG OF COCAINE."
Frank stood there, trembling. He didn't want to look at his father. He didn't want to leave the house. He felt so stupid and ashamed in himself.
"Where do you get it from, Frank!?" Her mother choked out.
"Some other crack whore," his father spat.
Frank stared at his feet, tear drops splashing on the floor. His mother stood away from him, and his father stood across from him. "You don't do anything, Frank! You are no good here! You don't have a fucking job, you don't do good in school, you don't help around the house, and you make your mother cry all the time! What good will it do if we keep you here?!" His father yelled.
"HUH? What makes you think you can just get away with anything! What makes you think you're so fucking perfect and you can just do whatever the hell you want? What makes you think that?! You have a fucking dumb brain. You're dumb Frank. You think you're so special. Now get out of here you worthless dumb piece of shit. Before I -..."
"NO! FUCK YOU! I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY AND I FUCKING HATE YOU! YOU MEAN NOTHING TO ME AND I DON'T EVER WANT TO SEE YOUR FUCKING FAT ASS FACE AGAIN! IT NEVER EVEN OCCURRED TO YOU TO HELP ME OUT WITH MY ADDICTION. AND THANK GOD FOR THAT! I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP. IT WOULD ONLY MAKE THINGS WORSE! YOU FUCKING ASS WHOLE! YOU MAKE EVERYTHING WORSE! EVERYTHING!" Frank yelled at the top of his lungs. He picked up the bag of cocaine off of the ground, grabbed his sweater from his father, and stormed out of the room.
"YOU LITTLE SHIT. GET YOUR FUCKING ASS BACK HERE, FRANK ANTHONY IERO." His father ran after him, grabbed the back of his neck and pushed him to the floor. Frank's face slammed against the floor along with his body with a loud thud.
His mother came running over and she pushed her husband away. "Oh, stop it!" She yelled. Frank laid there on the ground. He got up slowly, blood dripping from his nose and onto the white floor. Frank sobbed and he held his nose because it fucking hurt. He was on his hands and knees.
His mother was about to help him up before Frank's father had pushed her away...
His father grabbed the back of his head and picked him up off the ground. Frank grabbed his fathers hand and clawed at it as it was pulling his hair. "I want you out of this house. Now." His father said with his jaw clenched.
"I don't want to leave."
Frank whimpered even though he really did want to leave. His father slapped him across his face. His mother yelled at his dad. Yelled something that Frank couldn't hear. Frank was zoning out. He was in his own thoughts now. His deep thinking.
"Hey. Frank. Pssst. Frank," a voice had whispered. Frank looked around the deserted classroom. Nobody in it but himself - or, at least that's what he thought. He found a freaky looking kid at the back of the classroom. He had eyeliner on, black tight skinny jeans, a black shirt, and his hair was black. Fuck, this kid looks awesome! Frank wondered why he's never seen him here before.
"Hey, how do you know my name?" Frank asked. "I'm in your chore. I'm the fucking weird new kid that everyone hates. The damn emo faggot," he chuckled. "I'm surprised I didn't notice you. You stand out from all of the other kids..." Frank mumbled.
"And I'm surprised that anyone DOES notice you, shorty," he spoke. Frank wasn't taken aback by that comment. He always gets picked on by his size. It's normal. He's used to it. The kid in the back of the room chuckled. "What's so funny?" Frank asked. "Nothing. Nothing... But snow white called and she wants one of her 3 dwarfs back. She put up 'gone missing' signs with a picture of you," he laughed.
Frank rolled his eyes and sighed. Another douche bag that he needs to deal with. An emo faggot douche bag.
"So what are you in detention for, bad boy?" The emo faggot asked.
Frank ignored him and he put his hoodie up. He folded his arms and put them on the desk, laying his head down on his arms.
"I asked you a question. You gonna answer me or ignore me?" He asked.
Frank didn't say anything.
"Hey, I apolagize for making fun of your height. I'm not normally a douche bag. I just thought you were one of those jerks from the first comment you made to me... but looks like you didn't fight back, so you're alright," the emo faggot said.
"I actually like the way you look. You have a good style..." Frank spoke quietly and shyly.
The kid in the back of the room smirked. "Thanks. I'm Andy by the way."
"Very nice to meet you Andy. I'm Frank."
~~~ A Trophy Father's Trophy Son - Sleeping With Sirens
Frank's dad slapped the back of his head. "Answer me, boy!" Frank looked up at him. "See? Those damn drugs are making you stupid!" He yelled.
"No wonder why you're doing so bad in school. You're one of those kids who nobody likes. You are pathetic. Fucking druggy," his dad said.
Frank glared at his dad. Anger building up with every word his dad spoke.
"You are no good here. You're going to run off someday and be out in the streets with the rest of all of the crack heads!" His father had once said.
Frank laid in his bed, drinking beer from the bottle he got from Andy. He hid it from his parents and waited for them to be asleep until he could drink it. He thought about the first time his father had found out that he was doing drugs and drinking. He thought about what happened tonight. He sighed when he had failed to escape the house. His father DID want him out of the house, didn't he? He even said to him. And then when Frank was about to leave, his father didn't let him.
He just yelled at him. He didn't let him leave! He can't let him leave because if he leaves then he has no more punching bag anymore. Frank is his fucking punching bag. Even before Frank started doing drugs... He was always his fathers punching bag.
Frank sniffled, whipping away his tears. He's never felt loved before. Nor has he ever felt love for anyone else. He's been used, cheated on, back stabbed, humiliated, and lied to. He hates this place.
He wants to get out. He wants to escape this town. No one will know. He wants to leave. He just wants to disappear... into a much nicer place.
A quieter place. A place where he doesn't need to deal with anything. Where he can just forget about the people around him. Forget about all the shit he's gone through over the years. He's been living in a hell.
Frank took a sip from his beer bottle.
He wants to leave everything. He wants to forget about everything. He wants to leave everyone and forget about everyone. He wants to forget about himself... and he wants to leave himself.
He took another sip.
Frank placed his beer bottle the nightstand beside his bed, sat up from his bed, and opened the drawer in the nightstand. He searched for it. He couldn't find it. He moved all the papers around, looked under them, but couldn't find it.
"Ouch," Frank gasped.
He found it...
He lifted up his hand and his finger was bleeding. He sure found it. Frank pulled out the blade from the dresser, his hands shaking a bit. His tears began and he got prepared for the hurt.
Frank got out his video camera and set it down on his dresser. He put the video camera in place so it would show Frank. He wanted to make a little video diary...
Frank pressed record.
He sat on his bed criss cross. He glared at the camera and looked down at the blade in his hand. He held the blade up to his arm. "This one is for all of the beatings from my dad. He doesn't love me. He doesn't care about me. He uses me for his punching bag," Frank spoke softly, but loud enough so that the video camera can pick up the sound of his nervous soft voice. There tears streaming down his cheeks.
Frank slid the blade across his arm, pressing hard. The tears came more. Blood oozed out from his arm. "This one is for my mother who also doesn't love me or care for me," Frank spoke quietly. "Sure, she tries to stand up to my father for me, trying to show that she cares. But she hasn't even divorced the fucking bastard. Maybe she likes to watch him beat me up for her amusement," Frank spat, speaking a bit louder now.
"She doesn't even have her own life straight. That women needs some fucking help. She's not all together in the brain," he chuckled. He squeezed his eyes shut tight.
He slid the blade across his arm next to the cut meant for his father. He gasped at the sharp pain that shot through his arm. He held his bloody arm up to the camera. He pointed to the two fresh cuts. "These two cuts are for mommy and daddy," he grinned. "They fucking love me! I'm a great kid! I'm a straight A student and they're fucking proud of me! They reward me with all of my bloody hard work," Frank spat.
"Everybody likes me. What's not to love? Oh, everything. Fucking everything! I don't blame them if they hate me! I EVEN HATE MYSELF!" Frank yelled.
"Everything is so perfect." Frank laughed quietly, glaring at the camera. He clenched his teeth together. "Everything. Is. Fucking. Amazing."
He held the blade up high and brought it back down, cutting his arm deep. "THAT ONE WAS FOR EVERYONE AT SCHOOL!" Frank yelled.
"The fucking bullies! The teachers who do nothing to help! The words. The lies. The cheating, the stealing, the fucking fakers.
The users. The back stabbers. The criminals.
The ones who beat me up. The gossip. The rumors.
The fucking hot girl. The fucking hot guy. The cute couples.
Oh, how I HATE those couples. They're all fucking lovey dovey and annoying. The cute girls, nice girls, mean girls, bad girls, good girls, sleazy girls, slutty girls, whores. I hate them. The lesbians. The gays. The bi-sexuals. The people who are straight and think that there's something totally fucking wrong with the gay kid and they make fun of him. The "friends" who leave a good impression to you at the start and give you their full honesty, but then get used to you and they get tired of you and HATE YOU! I hate them ALL!"
He slit his wrist 3 times and sobbed while doing so. God. He wanted to stab himself in the heart. He threw the blade down on the ground. "FUCK! FUCK YOU ALL!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. "I HATE THIS WORLD!" Frank stood on his bed and threw his pillows down on the floor. He jumped off of the bed and ripped his bed spread off his bead and the sheets. He yelled at the top of his lungs and smashed the beer bottle against the wall, the glass cutting into his hand. "WHY DON'T YOU LIKE ME? WHY DON'T YOU LOVE ME, DAD? HOW COME I HAVE TO BE SO -..."
Frank couldn't finish off what he was going to say. He sobbed so loudly that he choked on his tears. He sat back down on his bed, his whole body trembling. He was shaking so badly. He just needed to sit down. The camera was still filming. It filmed everything that had just happened...
Frank hid his head in his arms and sobbed. He couldn't take it. He couldn't handle all of this pain. "It's all your fault. Whoever started this mess. It's all your -..."
Frank took his arms away from his head and widened his red teary eyes. Who did start this mess? Who's fault was it? Who turned him into this mess. He used to be so popular. Everyone liked him at school. They'd help him out with his problems at home. But now they all turned their backs on him.
Because Frank started becoming a jerk when it started. When what started? The drugs? The drinking? Frank became a whole new person when he started the drugs and drinking... Who started this mess? Frank asked himself. And then it clicked to his drunken mind.
The kid from school. The emo faggot. Andy. His fucking drug dealer.
"Andy," Frank whispered, sniffling.
He pressed the record button on his video camera, and the camera stopped filming.
Frank's mother leaned against Frank's shut door. Her hand was clapped to her mouth, practically clawing her mouth, trying to choke back her loud sobs from over hearing Frank's meltdown in his bedroom. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, tears streaming down her cheeks.
She sobbed into her hand as she slid down the door outside of Frank's room, and sat on the floor, her knees close to her chest. She leaned against the door, crying. She failed at being a mother. Frank doesn't deserve this kind of life. She hates herself for it.
Instead of helping, Frank's mother just sat there through out the whole thing. Listening.
And the next day, she never mentioned it. She didn't ask Frank questions, didn't try to help him, or didn't give him a comforting hug, telling him that it's all going to be okay. She just pretended that the things she heard last night never even happened. She pretended it wasn't real. She didn't want it to be real.