Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > It's Just Beneath My Skin
It's Just Beneath My Skin
When Frank's life takes a tragic twist he's made to live in a rehabilitation clinic, so he can work off his therapy fees. He's disenchanted, disillusioned and worst of all, unpaid for his troubles....
?Blocked
Driving around Jersey was probably one of the hardest things to do. There were these odd laws that said you couldn't make left turns. Ever. Then you couldn't make right turns on red, even when there were no cars coming. The speed limit was either too slow or far too fast. The laws weren't the only reason that Frank didn't want to drive. He was afraid of being in control of that huge hunk of metal that could cause deathly accidents. And that's why Frank chose to walk, everywhere. Yeah, the area wasn't the best, but it wasn’t the worst either. And yeah, he was a relatively small guy, but he got used to it, nothing had ever happened to him. He didn’t feel the need to feel frightened. He used buses for the big journeys so it didn't take him hours to get to where he needed to be, but apart from that, he enjoyed walking. It was therapeutic and he often took walks if he ever needed to think; to clear his mind after few of the rare explosive arguments that occurred between him and his boyfriend.
Frank was lucky that his community college was only two bus rides and a ten minute walk away. Every day, he walked three minutes from his mother's house to the bus stop on the corner of Carltion and Union. After he then rode that to Main Street, before getting off the bus to cross the street, which didn’t take long. He then got on the bus that luckily came only minutes after his previous one. Once through the automatic doors he had a habit of settling into his seat to rest dozily as he waited the half an hour until it was his stop. He would then get off the bus, finishing his seven minute walk to his campus. This was his morning routine; he was as reliable as the tick of a clock. He made it his pride to always arrive on time. This was what destroyed him in the end.
The funny thing about Frank was that he had a lot of friends. A lot of licensed friends and they all mostly went to his school and lived around him. Another funny thing about Frank was he had a very loving, caring boyfriend who was always doting on him offering millions of times to drive Frank to college. Jepha, Frank's steady other-half, lived about ten minutes from Frank but passed Frank's college on his way to work and was more than willing to make the extra drive to Frank's house to ensure that his precious boyfriend was safe. But Frank wouldn't ever agree, he detested the idea. Frank would usually make up some story about how he was saving the environment, when everyone knew that Frank couldn’t care less about the depleting ozone layer, he’d rather walk with his head held high to the bus stop, because he didn’t need people bending over backwards to accommodate him. This was another reason he was vulnerable without realising. His pride made him an easy target.
Franks real issue was, he didn't want to burden anyone. It was silly, but he always felt like making his friends and boyfriend go out of their way just so he didn't have to walk a few miles was rude. He was capable of walking, if he was stupid enough to be afraid of driving, then he should be able to walk to where he needed to go. It was simple enough in his mind.
On this particular day in question; a September morning - crisp and fresh. Frank was in the midst of his routine, walking the seven minutes from the bus stop to his school campus; his ear buds placed firmly in his ears, music blasting relentlessly, drowning out the constant stream of cars passing him on his left, when he felt a strange presence behind him. Not thinking that this person would do any harm, considering they were on a busy street, Frank continued to walk, even though his heart rate increased, this had never happened before... He did, however, turn his music down a tad, listening more intently to the thudding of the stranger’s footsteps, being alert and keeping an eye out always helped. If this presence seemed more than benign he’d simply try to lose him...
As he continued to make his way to the campus, Frank turned onto another street which was slightly more secluded and filled with residential homes. The footsteps of the stranger still mimicking his own, he walked past the familiar two story cookie cutter houses, wishing that he was already in his math class, away from this person. Turning onto yet another block, he felt the stranger’s footsteps quicken, the thudding becoming more frequent. Beginning to feel an ever increasing feeling of dread amass in his stomach he sped up his pace, incredibly wary of his surroundings… He began to panic as the stranger still tailed him, their shadows gradually coming closer together. Gulping as adrenaline pulsed and the blood roared in his ears, he sped up so his fast walk was more like a slow sprint… Big mistake. Soon he had a hand over his mouth and harsh whispered threats resonated menacingly in his ear. The rest was a disturbing blur, one that belong in a fucked up pornography film or an incredibly harsh horror flick.
Or that's what Frank would have like to been able to say because his memory of the actions of this stranger were not blurry at all. They were as clear as glass and as haunting as a graveyard. A graveyard that filled his mind with rancid decaying memories of what carefree life was like. The gravestones in this bone yard weren’t marking deteriorating bodies; no. They were marking the death of treasured memories and emotions…
He remembered being dragged violently into the front yard of a house that he'd passed thousands of times. He remembered how he’d scattered the rose petals of the bush he was forced through, they were one of the things he remembered most accurately. He didn’t know why, maybe because he’d walked past that same bush a million times and wanted to pick one for his boyfriend. Probably because he couldn’t comprehend how ironic it was that he’d once loved to see and admire it during his daily routine.
He remembered being shoved harshly into the already opened front door leading him into a house that smelled like stale cat’s fur and cigarettes. He distinctly remembered how the vile stench burnt his nostrils. He remembered the hasty hands shutting the door discretely; he remembered them pushing him hurriedly to a small door that lead to the basement. He remembered struggling, he remembered fighting against a pair of broad shoulders, and he remembered resisting. Resisting that only brought a stricter punishment. He also remembered the same quick hands removing his messenger bag from his body angrily, inconsiderately discarding it with a kick in the opposite direction, those same hands ripping his sweatshirt away from his subdued, restricted stature. His body was pinned to the gravel of what he assumed to be a garage by the hooded attacker. His weight anchored him to the floor; but it didn’t stop him squirming and his pleas for mercy only seemed to encourage the deranged maniac further. Those hands that were once clasped around his mouth were now removing his clothes with such malice; he thought the stranger, who he found out was a man, would rip his skin off as well.
The man demon, used the shredded pieces of Frank's shirt as a blindfold and as a muzzle. Maybe muzzle wasn't the right word to use but after this day Frank no longer felt human, so to him, muzzle fit. After the rough, scarred hands had easily rid him of the rest of the garments that were adorning the skin below his waist, those hands touched him everywhere. Exploring the skin that only one man had ever explored, that only one person had ever caressed… His stomach curdled as tears sprang into his eyes, bursting out with explosive tendencies before crashing down his cheeks. He could hear the hand's owner mumble words of excitement about the ink that was marked on his skin. It made him feel even more violated because only one man had ever whispered hushed compliments about their beauty.
Soon the body that the hands were attached to wrapped around Frank. He felt that this man was definitely a man by the seemingly big member that pressed against the small of his back. The man shoved Frank back against the floor, declaring how he’d needed this for song long. Declaring that this feeling would bring him his best high yet… Not being able to make any real noise Frank's eyes shot open in pain and in shock. The tears now flooding their way down Frank's face were absorbed in the cotton of the muzzle in his mouth, there was such a huge amount of them he had begun to taste the salt they contained. If it wasn’t for something blocking his mouth right now, he would have probably puked. The feeling of this disgusting specimen of the human race thrusting into him made him feel putrid; tainted. But the worst was yet to come. He remembered how the man demon had announced that he’d been so angry when he found out Frank had cheated him, had betrayed him by being taken, owned by someone other than himself. He remember with such disturbing clarity how the man had shamefully found that one place inside of him that would make him feel good no matter what before whispering about how he desperately wanted Frank to feel good. The whole entire vivid account haunted him every night. The man’s demon’s dark eyes burnt forever into his memory…
Frank felt every finger that roamed his body that afternoon. He heard every moan that the stranger behind him produced. He tasted the soggy cotton that was forced into his mouth, demanding him to stay silent. He saw the blackness that surrounded his eyes because of the dark material forcing him into blindness. He smelled the grimy smell of cats, cigarettes, sweat, sex, and blood.
Frank also felt the betrayal of his own body. The arousal that was being caused by the constant tapping of his prostate. He felt the man's demanding hand take Frank's young member into his hand and stroke it until he felt the familiar sensation form in his lower stomach. He heard the whimper escape his mouth, muffled by the muzzle, as he reached his orgasm. As even more tears made their tracks down his face he felt his attacker’s face nuzzle into his hair, a hand lazily stroking his fringe and he flinched. He remembered the words that sprung to his mind every time he looked in the mirror. “Your hair is so beautiful.” The words were uttered in a such an admiring fashion it made him even more repulsed by the reflection these days…
After the man was finished with his dirty violation he shoved Frank to the cold, gravely floor once more before he heard him sneer about how Frank was finally his own. The shards of dirt and gravel of the basement floor poked at Frank's skin. The man’sdemon’s final words still cut him like the sharpest blade, they were the words that ruined his life and inevitably drove him away from the love of his life.
“You can leave when you're ready, Sugar. I have to head to work now. You better not tell anyone or that pretty little boyfriend of yours will get it too.” He felt the lips of the offender against his muzzled ones, sloppily. “I'm looking forward to next time.”
And with that the presence left, leaving Frank on the floor of this basement, with the inability to either get up and walk away or pass out. As he lay on the floor, Frank's mind had processed all that had occurred. He was trying to figure out why he didn't fight harder. His hands were left untied, along with his legs. Why didn't he just push away from the man? Hit him? Things hurt his mind as he constantly wondered why he hadn’t tried harder to get away… What was wrong with him? What was he waiting for…? Someone to save him? Well welcome to fucking reality, he thought as he realized that no one would ever be able to save him now… After what seemed like five minutes, but was really four hours, Frank stood up and carefully undid the ties around his eyes and mouth, with shaky hands. He found his pants and boxers sliding them on slowly, before finding his sweatshirt sliding that onto his nude torso.
Now that Frank finally had his eye sight back, he went to find the exit of this nightmare, checking the address as he left. It would be one he’d need to remember. Memorising the name he fled from the scene of such a revolting crime. There was a pain in his ass that he couldn't quite feel but knew was supposed to be there. He was numb. Frank couldn't think, he couldn't feel. He had no idea what he looked like. He had no idea how he felt. He also didn't know how he was supposed to feel. He was numb. Numb and shaking. That was it.
The rest of Frank's day was the blur and he always wished it was the other way around. He retraced the steps that led him to his house, he needed the solace of his own home but he ended up arriving at his mother’s house. Now that he was home he showered. The dirt and gravel was still on his skin, hidden by the fabrics of his clothes. He tossed his jeans and sweatshirt in the hamper in the bathroom and tossed the soiled, bloody boxers in the trash. His mother did not need to see that.
Standing under the hot water, he wished that the feeling of numbness would burn off. He wanted to know what happened to him. He wanted to feel it. If he could feel it he could process it. If he could process it he could make sense of it. But he couldn’t feel it. He stared at the tiled wall of his shower, cleaning the skin nervously. He scrubbed hard, reddening his skin, he needed to feel something, anything other than this suffocating numbness. He also needed to be cleaned, detoxed of the demon’s soul draining touch.
After Frank had scrubbed his skin raw, he made his way out of the bathroom and into his bedroom where he put on a pair of sweatpants and his boyfriend's sweatshirt. The sweatshirt which smelled like the cologne that Jepha frequently wore... The sweatshirt that usually made him feel safe. The sweatshirt that usually made him feel whole. The sweatshirt that comforted him when Jepha wasn’t there to hold him. The sweatshirt that always made him realize how lucky he really was.
Unfortunately, today that sweatshirt did not make Frank feel safe or whole. It made him feel dirty. He was now putting his boyfriend in danger. He needed to find a way to stop it. He needed to find a way to keep his older lover safe. So as Frank drifted off into a nightmare infested sleep, he left his phone in his messenger bag, ignoring the one man that meant everything to him. Ignoring that perfect man who would be the only person that could save him from self-destruction. An action that would lead to a slippery slope; an uncontrollable downward spiral.
A/n: Ok, so this is a co-write with me an another amazing author who does not have an account here. Her mibba about is "Pfft":http://member.mibba.com/57704/
We have this story completely planned out and the epilogue, so updates shouldn't be too long, hopefully.
Well, let us know what you think and make sure your read her stories.
Frank was lucky that his community college was only two bus rides and a ten minute walk away. Every day, he walked three minutes from his mother's house to the bus stop on the corner of Carltion and Union. After he then rode that to Main Street, before getting off the bus to cross the street, which didn’t take long. He then got on the bus that luckily came only minutes after his previous one. Once through the automatic doors he had a habit of settling into his seat to rest dozily as he waited the half an hour until it was his stop. He would then get off the bus, finishing his seven minute walk to his campus. This was his morning routine; he was as reliable as the tick of a clock. He made it his pride to always arrive on time. This was what destroyed him in the end.
The funny thing about Frank was that he had a lot of friends. A lot of licensed friends and they all mostly went to his school and lived around him. Another funny thing about Frank was he had a very loving, caring boyfriend who was always doting on him offering millions of times to drive Frank to college. Jepha, Frank's steady other-half, lived about ten minutes from Frank but passed Frank's college on his way to work and was more than willing to make the extra drive to Frank's house to ensure that his precious boyfriend was safe. But Frank wouldn't ever agree, he detested the idea. Frank would usually make up some story about how he was saving the environment, when everyone knew that Frank couldn’t care less about the depleting ozone layer, he’d rather walk with his head held high to the bus stop, because he didn’t need people bending over backwards to accommodate him. This was another reason he was vulnerable without realising. His pride made him an easy target.
Franks real issue was, he didn't want to burden anyone. It was silly, but he always felt like making his friends and boyfriend go out of their way just so he didn't have to walk a few miles was rude. He was capable of walking, if he was stupid enough to be afraid of driving, then he should be able to walk to where he needed to go. It was simple enough in his mind.
On this particular day in question; a September morning - crisp and fresh. Frank was in the midst of his routine, walking the seven minutes from the bus stop to his school campus; his ear buds placed firmly in his ears, music blasting relentlessly, drowning out the constant stream of cars passing him on his left, when he felt a strange presence behind him. Not thinking that this person would do any harm, considering they were on a busy street, Frank continued to walk, even though his heart rate increased, this had never happened before... He did, however, turn his music down a tad, listening more intently to the thudding of the stranger’s footsteps, being alert and keeping an eye out always helped. If this presence seemed more than benign he’d simply try to lose him...
As he continued to make his way to the campus, Frank turned onto another street which was slightly more secluded and filled with residential homes. The footsteps of the stranger still mimicking his own, he walked past the familiar two story cookie cutter houses, wishing that he was already in his math class, away from this person. Turning onto yet another block, he felt the stranger’s footsteps quicken, the thudding becoming more frequent. Beginning to feel an ever increasing feeling of dread amass in his stomach he sped up his pace, incredibly wary of his surroundings… He began to panic as the stranger still tailed him, their shadows gradually coming closer together. Gulping as adrenaline pulsed and the blood roared in his ears, he sped up so his fast walk was more like a slow sprint… Big mistake. Soon he had a hand over his mouth and harsh whispered threats resonated menacingly in his ear. The rest was a disturbing blur, one that belong in a fucked up pornography film or an incredibly harsh horror flick.
Or that's what Frank would have like to been able to say because his memory of the actions of this stranger were not blurry at all. They were as clear as glass and as haunting as a graveyard. A graveyard that filled his mind with rancid decaying memories of what carefree life was like. The gravestones in this bone yard weren’t marking deteriorating bodies; no. They were marking the death of treasured memories and emotions…
He remembered being dragged violently into the front yard of a house that he'd passed thousands of times. He remembered how he’d scattered the rose petals of the bush he was forced through, they were one of the things he remembered most accurately. He didn’t know why, maybe because he’d walked past that same bush a million times and wanted to pick one for his boyfriend. Probably because he couldn’t comprehend how ironic it was that he’d once loved to see and admire it during his daily routine.
He remembered being shoved harshly into the already opened front door leading him into a house that smelled like stale cat’s fur and cigarettes. He distinctly remembered how the vile stench burnt his nostrils. He remembered the hasty hands shutting the door discretely; he remembered them pushing him hurriedly to a small door that lead to the basement. He remembered struggling, he remembered fighting against a pair of broad shoulders, and he remembered resisting. Resisting that only brought a stricter punishment. He also remembered the same quick hands removing his messenger bag from his body angrily, inconsiderately discarding it with a kick in the opposite direction, those same hands ripping his sweatshirt away from his subdued, restricted stature. His body was pinned to the gravel of what he assumed to be a garage by the hooded attacker. His weight anchored him to the floor; but it didn’t stop him squirming and his pleas for mercy only seemed to encourage the deranged maniac further. Those hands that were once clasped around his mouth were now removing his clothes with such malice; he thought the stranger, who he found out was a man, would rip his skin off as well.
The man demon, used the shredded pieces of Frank's shirt as a blindfold and as a muzzle. Maybe muzzle wasn't the right word to use but after this day Frank no longer felt human, so to him, muzzle fit. After the rough, scarred hands had easily rid him of the rest of the garments that were adorning the skin below his waist, those hands touched him everywhere. Exploring the skin that only one man had ever explored, that only one person had ever caressed… His stomach curdled as tears sprang into his eyes, bursting out with explosive tendencies before crashing down his cheeks. He could hear the hand's owner mumble words of excitement about the ink that was marked on his skin. It made him feel even more violated because only one man had ever whispered hushed compliments about their beauty.
Soon the body that the hands were attached to wrapped around Frank. He felt that this man was definitely a man by the seemingly big member that pressed against the small of his back. The man shoved Frank back against the floor, declaring how he’d needed this for song long. Declaring that this feeling would bring him his best high yet… Not being able to make any real noise Frank's eyes shot open in pain and in shock. The tears now flooding their way down Frank's face were absorbed in the cotton of the muzzle in his mouth, there was such a huge amount of them he had begun to taste the salt they contained. If it wasn’t for something blocking his mouth right now, he would have probably puked. The feeling of this disgusting specimen of the human race thrusting into him made him feel putrid; tainted. But the worst was yet to come. He remembered how the man demon had announced that he’d been so angry when he found out Frank had cheated him, had betrayed him by being taken, owned by someone other than himself. He remember with such disturbing clarity how the man had shamefully found that one place inside of him that would make him feel good no matter what before whispering about how he desperately wanted Frank to feel good. The whole entire vivid account haunted him every night. The man’s demon’s dark eyes burnt forever into his memory…
Frank felt every finger that roamed his body that afternoon. He heard every moan that the stranger behind him produced. He tasted the soggy cotton that was forced into his mouth, demanding him to stay silent. He saw the blackness that surrounded his eyes because of the dark material forcing him into blindness. He smelled the grimy smell of cats, cigarettes, sweat, sex, and blood.
Frank also felt the betrayal of his own body. The arousal that was being caused by the constant tapping of his prostate. He felt the man's demanding hand take Frank's young member into his hand and stroke it until he felt the familiar sensation form in his lower stomach. He heard the whimper escape his mouth, muffled by the muzzle, as he reached his orgasm. As even more tears made their tracks down his face he felt his attacker’s face nuzzle into his hair, a hand lazily stroking his fringe and he flinched. He remembered the words that sprung to his mind every time he looked in the mirror. “Your hair is so beautiful.” The words were uttered in a such an admiring fashion it made him even more repulsed by the reflection these days…
After the man was finished with his dirty violation he shoved Frank to the cold, gravely floor once more before he heard him sneer about how Frank was finally his own. The shards of dirt and gravel of the basement floor poked at Frank's skin. The man’sdemon’s final words still cut him like the sharpest blade, they were the words that ruined his life and inevitably drove him away from the love of his life.
“You can leave when you're ready, Sugar. I have to head to work now. You better not tell anyone or that pretty little boyfriend of yours will get it too.” He felt the lips of the offender against his muzzled ones, sloppily. “I'm looking forward to next time.”
And with that the presence left, leaving Frank on the floor of this basement, with the inability to either get up and walk away or pass out. As he lay on the floor, Frank's mind had processed all that had occurred. He was trying to figure out why he didn't fight harder. His hands were left untied, along with his legs. Why didn't he just push away from the man? Hit him? Things hurt his mind as he constantly wondered why he hadn’t tried harder to get away… What was wrong with him? What was he waiting for…? Someone to save him? Well welcome to fucking reality, he thought as he realized that no one would ever be able to save him now… After what seemed like five minutes, but was really four hours, Frank stood up and carefully undid the ties around his eyes and mouth, with shaky hands. He found his pants and boxers sliding them on slowly, before finding his sweatshirt sliding that onto his nude torso.
Now that Frank finally had his eye sight back, he went to find the exit of this nightmare, checking the address as he left. It would be one he’d need to remember. Memorising the name he fled from the scene of such a revolting crime. There was a pain in his ass that he couldn't quite feel but knew was supposed to be there. He was numb. Frank couldn't think, he couldn't feel. He had no idea what he looked like. He had no idea how he felt. He also didn't know how he was supposed to feel. He was numb. Numb and shaking. That was it.
The rest of Frank's day was the blur and he always wished it was the other way around. He retraced the steps that led him to his house, he needed the solace of his own home but he ended up arriving at his mother’s house. Now that he was home he showered. The dirt and gravel was still on his skin, hidden by the fabrics of his clothes. He tossed his jeans and sweatshirt in the hamper in the bathroom and tossed the soiled, bloody boxers in the trash. His mother did not need to see that.
Standing under the hot water, he wished that the feeling of numbness would burn off. He wanted to know what happened to him. He wanted to feel it. If he could feel it he could process it. If he could process it he could make sense of it. But he couldn’t feel it. He stared at the tiled wall of his shower, cleaning the skin nervously. He scrubbed hard, reddening his skin, he needed to feel something, anything other than this suffocating numbness. He also needed to be cleaned, detoxed of the demon’s soul draining touch.
After Frank had scrubbed his skin raw, he made his way out of the bathroom and into his bedroom where he put on a pair of sweatpants and his boyfriend's sweatshirt. The sweatshirt which smelled like the cologne that Jepha frequently wore... The sweatshirt that usually made him feel safe. The sweatshirt that usually made him feel whole. The sweatshirt that comforted him when Jepha wasn’t there to hold him. The sweatshirt that always made him realize how lucky he really was.
Unfortunately, today that sweatshirt did not make Frank feel safe or whole. It made him feel dirty. He was now putting his boyfriend in danger. He needed to find a way to stop it. He needed to find a way to keep his older lover safe. So as Frank drifted off into a nightmare infested sleep, he left his phone in his messenger bag, ignoring the one man that meant everything to him. Ignoring that perfect man who would be the only person that could save him from self-destruction. An action that would lead to a slippery slope; an uncontrollable downward spiral.
A/n: Ok, so this is a co-write with me an another amazing author who does not have an account here. Her mibba about is "Pfft":http://member.mibba.com/57704/
We have this story completely planned out and the epilogue, so updates shouldn't be too long, hopefully.
Well, let us know what you think and make sure your read her stories.
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