yeah, i really like how this story just keeps getting suckier and suckier. haha, another short one. inspiration shall come soon.
"I'm sorry!" I sobbed, sinking further back into the corner. He was towering over me. And I was the weak pathetic thing blubbering in the corner like always.
"Why'd you fucking tell him I want to know!" he yelled.
"He just figured it out he's not stupid!" I screamed back. My raised voice was nothing compared to his. He was in a screamo band for Christ's sake he did it for a fucking living.
"No," I whimpered.
He wrapped his hand around my throat, and pulled, forcing me to stand. His grip tightened around my neck and I pulled on his arm rasping for air. I dug my nails into his hand and pulled down, causing him to bleed, yes, but also pull his hand away and mutter fuck, under his breath.
I took in a big breath of air, rubbing my neck. That's going to bruise I thought. I pressed my hands against the wall for support as I took in more painful heaps of sweet air.
I don't even remember his fist contacting me, all I recall is collapsing into the corner of the room, tears pouring down my cheeks making my right eye sting even worse than it already did. Frank stared at me for a moment, chewing his nails and breathing loudly. He quickly turned and left the bathroom. A few seconds later, I heard the front door slam.
I slowly stood up and looked down at myself. I was a fucking mess. I turned to the mirror to see that familiar shade of purple invading my neck and eye. I pulled on the wooden frame surrounding the mirror revealing the medicine chest, hoping to find some form of pain killer. Tylenol threes were all I could find. I dumped some in my hand, a dry swallowed every single one of them.
I sped the whole way to her place, and took up two spaces in the lot, I rushed toward the entrance.
Frank passed me on the way in, shoving past me like he had no idea who I was. I tried to stop him, "Frank what's-"
He spun around "I don't want to fucking talk right now Gerard, go save the damsel in distress okay? She's all yours," And with that he walked away.
I brushed that off, and walked inside the building, not needing to buzz in having had the door ever-so-graciously opened for me. I walked down the long hallway and knocked rapidly on Evan's door. When she didn't answer within thirty seconds I knocked again, faster and louder.
The door swung open revealing her, with her hands jammed into her hoodie pockets. Her chestnut brown hair was down; I wouldn't remember a time I had seen her with her hair not done up. She wasn't dressed like she usually was. She had a black hood pulled over her head, and big black shades on....indoors. It did NOT take a genius to figure out what had happened prior to Frank leaving.
I stared at her for a moment. Before stepping into the apartment. "This is a stupid question, but are you okay?"
She nodded, "I'm sorry I called." her voice sounded like it was being forced from her throat.
I shook my head, "No, don't apologize. I'm glad you did,"
She grabbed her bag from the floor. "Do you wanna go...somewhere? Anywhere?"
"Yeah," I said, "I'd like that,"
Authors Note: (ew am I allowed to call myself an author? ugh whatever) Uh, yeah just so we are all clear this takes place like about a year-ish before the band started, like when Frank was in Pencey Prep kinda deal and they were all just kinda friends or whatever, and yeah.
Oh, and p.s. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEEEEEASE tell me what you actually think of this story, if you read it and think it sucks totally tell me because, yeah false hope sucks. okay. yeah.