Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > But No One Sees the Gnashing Teeth of My Heart [Frerard]

Jet Black Mystery

by eccentricpaige 3 reviews

I apologize for the shortness ]:

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama - Characters: Frank Iero - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2011-09-04 - Updated: 2011-09-04 - 1176 words

Nearly a week has come and gone and the arguments between my parents and I can be counted on one hand. Some would call this progress, but I know better. They've simply chosen a different tactic. If they can't threaten me to be involved in their lives, they'll try and con me into it, instead.

"Honey, when you have time, will you pick up some things in the living room?" my mother's false voice asks through an iron-on smile.

"Sure, when I have time." I gripe. At this point, I figure it's a 'What the hell' situation. I'll get a rise out of her eventually, and then everything will go back to normal and we'll be fighting like the twisted family that we are.

"Thank-you." she says brightly. I can taste the vomit threatening to heave itself up my throat, and decide my evening will be better spent elsewhere.

I yell to whoever's listening that I'll be out for a while, and reach inside of my pocket to grab my earphones. Once I'm outside of the house -and the music's blasting- I take a few moments to observe how simply stunning it is out here. I've never been one for nature, but even I can accept that it holds some beauty. The forgotten humidity of summer has been harnessed and kept in a chamber for next year, and the crisp air of fall has taken its place.

The final remnants of warmth are bound to stick around for another few weeks, but I can already tell from the cold nights how simply frigid this upcoming winter will be. I'm not looking forward to it in the slightest.

I lose track of time for the umpteenth time before reality sets in and I've found myself at the local park once again. I habitually take a seat on the bench stationed near a tree and start to kick around crumbling rocks to occupy myself.

I allow my mind to take me to a far off place where problems don't exist and everyone's tolerant of others. Though I know this is but a trick, I'm terribly grateful for the temporary escape and decide to soak in whatever I can.

I eat away at the congregation of rational minds, and start to find flaws and fault in the people as my daydream fizzles to its end. It was nice while it lasted.

Over by the swings, I can't help but notice a shady character grab a seat. The park is hardly ever a center of activity, which means this person is either lost or foreign.

I'm never one to make acquaintances, so I decide to leave the mystery person to his territory. Before I'm completely away, I glance back in a way that nearly shows my curiosity. I see nothing very unusual; just some dark jeans and a pair of scuffed up shoes. His blackened hair is purposefully hanging in his eyes, and his head is bent low. From how he's angled, I can tell he's focusing deeply on the dirt that's piled around the poles supporting the swing set. Seeing any physical features would be nearly impossible, given that his entire body is covered in dark fabric. Lastly, I notice the faint whisper of solitude in his very aura.

This gives me more reasons than necessary to leave and head for home.

I lift my hood and book it as the rain starts to stab the concrete beneath my feet. I'm so over this bi-polar weather. I want to move to a place known for its warm climates and consistent precipitation patterns.

The jog home nearly sets fire to my lungs, and I'm forced to double over in exhaustion once I step foot through the door.

"Frank? Are you home?" my mother calls from the kitchen. I suck in as much air as I can before giving her a quick answer and heading upstairs. School's tomorrow and I already feel like the week should be over. I tread the steps and thank God as I finally make it to the top. My heart is still pounding from the physical exertion as I think about how great a shower would feel at this very moment.

I collect a towel from the closet and lock myself inside of the bathroom. I strip off my clothes and step in the shower at record speed, before turning the heat to full blast and standing perfectly still. I take in the brutal collision of the water for a moment before running my hands over my face. I press my palms against my eyes long enough to start seeing stars before I'm back to thinking like a normal human.

Sometimes, I simply forget what it's like to escape the masochism. Almost every waking moment of my existence is spent seeking after another way to hurt. To feel. Whether it's disrespecting my parents on purpose to feel the impact of their harsh words, or gliding a blade over top of damaged skin. When I start to feel contentment, I don't quite know what to do with the frightening thoughts. The ideas and scenes that constantly play in my head to keep this morbid dream alive.

My best bet is to plow through them; to ignore the shouts of every sting I've ever felt. This only lasts for so long, but it's enough to allow me a day or so of normalcy before I'm back to scraping skin.

I just don't know what it's like to be normal, anymore. I'm so out of touch with the way things were, and I have no ability -or desire- to change things back.

The ending of my shower is marked by the sudden loss of hot water. It runs out much too soon, and I'm usually left washing myself in a lukewarm blanket of disappointment.

I cut the faucet off and step out. Once I've rubbed away the moisture that collected on the glass, I peer at my reflection and take in how water-logged and tired I look. The towel I'm holding is suddenly wrapped around my waist, and I leave the room with sopping feet.

After all is taken care of, I'm finally allowed to drown in a deep sea of sheets and pillows; something I've looked forward to from the time I first woke up. My mind races until I pick a thing to focus on.

That boy. He couldn't have been much older than me. His catatonic attitude sparked my interest for a reason unknown. In a way, his presence left me feeling insecure. I'm not even sure if he knew I was standing in front of him. If not, then his aversion to being observant is amusing.

I mindlessly pick at the skin on my thumb, and wish to have an expanded knowledge on how the mind works.

I grow comfortable and try to taste the warmth provided by this comforter. I find that I can't keep my eyes open any longer, and I fall asleep with his bang-covered face etched before my mind's eye.
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