Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Mirror, Mirror
Chapter One
0 reviewsFrank has major self esteem issues, resorting to self harm to make himself feel better. That is, until he meets Gerard: a boy who encourages Frank to stand up for himself and to not be afraid to sh...
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Mirror, Mirror
Chapter One
Frank hadn't smiled properly in two years. Frank was bullied. Everyday he woke up, terrified of going to school in fear of those who took pleasure in tormenting him, often coming home bruised and bloodied. His mom would fuss relentlessly over him whilst his father, a proud figure, told him he must stand up for himself if he ever wanted to get through life. These two conflicting opinions brought many arguements between his parents and so Franks home life wasn't that much better either. For him though, it wasn't his parents arguing or even being bullied everyday that caused him so much conflicting emotion and self hate. It was the fact that to make himself feel better, he had to inflict violence upon himself. No one knew he had this problem. He couldn't tell anybody. His mom would fuss more, his dad would get angrier at the fact that he couldn't stand up for himself or take it 'like a man.' Frank had fallen into depression and he didn't see a way out for himself, he was certain he would end up drinking or smoking himself to death and the worrying thing about that was Frank seemed content to go along with it.
They'd moved house a week ago. His mum said a it would be a new start for Frank, a chance to be normal again, to make friends and enjoy spending time with them. but Frank couldn't believe her; his self esteem had been lost in the deepest cavern of his mind long before that and he didn't even see the point. Why would anyone want make friends with him? A self harming, alcoholic, emo loser. He wanted to be left alone, wanted no one to approach him, even if they were trying to be kind (unlikely) because he couldn't stand anymore pain, he couldn't deal with it if someone tried to be his friend and then turned nasty when. Frank didn't trust anybody.
He still hadn't unpacked half of his posessions which lay on the floor of his room in their cardboard homes. Several boxes had been opened, but only the ones he needed. A mattress lay in one corner of the room where Frank slept, the rest of the room a heap of mess and boxes. Clean clothes lay in disorganised piles where he had carelessly ragged items out from near the bottom and 'forgot' to put them back again, whilst dirty clothes and used underwear lay strewn across the bedroom. The small window over the mattress overlooked the front and the street below. Just across the road was a local park where he could hear small children screaming from the early hours on a weekend which always woke him and never improved his mood. The walls were left unpainted, the colour of grey plasterwork. There were no posters up either. Frank had torn them down and ripped them up in a moment of rage after he realised the only reason he had been bullied in the first place was his music taste and how he dressed. It wasn't as if he was mean to anybody. It wasn't as if he had done anything to deserve a bit of payback, but obviously wearing black clothes and listening to heavy metal obviously did deserve a smack across the face in some people's eyes.
Franks first day at his new school went just as he had expected. His phone alarm went off at 8:30am signalling the start of a new day. Frank grumbled indistinctly as he rolled over to turn it off, his arm knocking over a bottle of open vodka that lay by his bed. 'Shit!' he cursed aloud as he picked it up and tried to mop up most of the damage with his bedsheet, eyes shielded against the blinding early morning light which streamed through his window. Frank didn't remember going to sleep. He had probably passed out drinking, he reckoned to himself. He had a headache. Briefly he considered just going back to sleep but that plan was abolished as he heard his mother stomping up the stairs. 'Frank, get up, you can't miss school on the first day' she said knocking on his door. 'yeah yeah' Frank replied sarcastically, grumbling as he sat up. God he had a headache. He stood up slowly, not wanting a wave of dizziness to overcome him, and when he felt steady on his feet, slowly progressed to get ready.
Ragging any items out of his clothes pile that he could find, he put on. He couldn't care less what he looked like right now. 'Frank, I don't start my new job until Wednesday so since you're not in, i'm going to get started on unpacking your room since you're never going to do it. ' His mum called from downstairs. 'I'm making breakfast if you want some.' Shit, Frank thought to himself, going over to the vodka bottle by his bedside and tucking it into his school bag. His mum didn't know about his drinking problem. He didnt communicate much with his parents. Once he got home from school he would hole himself up in his room, maybe taking a snack with him to last him through the night. His parents left him alone.
Picking his bag up from near his bed, Frank caught sight of himself in the reflection of the window and grimaced. He looked a mess. Black ripped skinny jeans with old worn red converse, falling apart on one side, with an old frayed plain black hoodie. He had neglected to wash his hair for several days and now it hung in a oily tuft over his left eye, the right side, once cropped, had started to grow out and stuck out in random places and the dye he had used on his hair had also started to fade and grow out at the roots. 'Nothing like making a great first impression' he thought bitterly to himself as he picked up his bag and bedsheet and left the room.
Once downstairs, Frank went straight to the kitchen where his mother sat reading a book in her nightgown. Frank ignored her greeting as he walked towards the washing machine, shoving the bedsheet inside, adding powder and slamming it shut. 'I'm going' Frank stated monotonously grabbing the pack of cigarettes which lay on the counter and heading towards the front door. 'At least have something to eat Frank, you havent eaten properly in ages' his mother replied, standing up quickly and hurrying over to him with a plate in her hand. 'just take some toast or something.' She pleaded. 'Bye mom' Frank said, ignoring her comments and closing the door in her expressionless face.
School didnt start for another 45 minutes but Frank wasn't going to school just yet. He headed across the road to the empty park. He had eveything he needed for now in his bag: his bottle of vodka, his cigarettes, and the pencil sharpener blade still encrusted in days old blood.
Chapter One
Frank hadn't smiled properly in two years. Frank was bullied. Everyday he woke up, terrified of going to school in fear of those who took pleasure in tormenting him, often coming home bruised and bloodied. His mom would fuss relentlessly over him whilst his father, a proud figure, told him he must stand up for himself if he ever wanted to get through life. These two conflicting opinions brought many arguements between his parents and so Franks home life wasn't that much better either. For him though, it wasn't his parents arguing or even being bullied everyday that caused him so much conflicting emotion and self hate. It was the fact that to make himself feel better, he had to inflict violence upon himself. No one knew he had this problem. He couldn't tell anybody. His mom would fuss more, his dad would get angrier at the fact that he couldn't stand up for himself or take it 'like a man.' Frank had fallen into depression and he didn't see a way out for himself, he was certain he would end up drinking or smoking himself to death and the worrying thing about that was Frank seemed content to go along with it.
They'd moved house a week ago. His mum said a it would be a new start for Frank, a chance to be normal again, to make friends and enjoy spending time with them. but Frank couldn't believe her; his self esteem had been lost in the deepest cavern of his mind long before that and he didn't even see the point. Why would anyone want make friends with him? A self harming, alcoholic, emo loser. He wanted to be left alone, wanted no one to approach him, even if they were trying to be kind (unlikely) because he couldn't stand anymore pain, he couldn't deal with it if someone tried to be his friend and then turned nasty when. Frank didn't trust anybody.
He still hadn't unpacked half of his posessions which lay on the floor of his room in their cardboard homes. Several boxes had been opened, but only the ones he needed. A mattress lay in one corner of the room where Frank slept, the rest of the room a heap of mess and boxes. Clean clothes lay in disorganised piles where he had carelessly ragged items out from near the bottom and 'forgot' to put them back again, whilst dirty clothes and used underwear lay strewn across the bedroom. The small window over the mattress overlooked the front and the street below. Just across the road was a local park where he could hear small children screaming from the early hours on a weekend which always woke him and never improved his mood. The walls were left unpainted, the colour of grey plasterwork. There were no posters up either. Frank had torn them down and ripped them up in a moment of rage after he realised the only reason he had been bullied in the first place was his music taste and how he dressed. It wasn't as if he was mean to anybody. It wasn't as if he had done anything to deserve a bit of payback, but obviously wearing black clothes and listening to heavy metal obviously did deserve a smack across the face in some people's eyes.
Franks first day at his new school went just as he had expected. His phone alarm went off at 8:30am signalling the start of a new day. Frank grumbled indistinctly as he rolled over to turn it off, his arm knocking over a bottle of open vodka that lay by his bed. 'Shit!' he cursed aloud as he picked it up and tried to mop up most of the damage with his bedsheet, eyes shielded against the blinding early morning light which streamed through his window. Frank didn't remember going to sleep. He had probably passed out drinking, he reckoned to himself. He had a headache. Briefly he considered just going back to sleep but that plan was abolished as he heard his mother stomping up the stairs. 'Frank, get up, you can't miss school on the first day' she said knocking on his door. 'yeah yeah' Frank replied sarcastically, grumbling as he sat up. God he had a headache. He stood up slowly, not wanting a wave of dizziness to overcome him, and when he felt steady on his feet, slowly progressed to get ready.
Ragging any items out of his clothes pile that he could find, he put on. He couldn't care less what he looked like right now. 'Frank, I don't start my new job until Wednesday so since you're not in, i'm going to get started on unpacking your room since you're never going to do it. ' His mum called from downstairs. 'I'm making breakfast if you want some.' Shit, Frank thought to himself, going over to the vodka bottle by his bedside and tucking it into his school bag. His mum didn't know about his drinking problem. He didnt communicate much with his parents. Once he got home from school he would hole himself up in his room, maybe taking a snack with him to last him through the night. His parents left him alone.
Picking his bag up from near his bed, Frank caught sight of himself in the reflection of the window and grimaced. He looked a mess. Black ripped skinny jeans with old worn red converse, falling apart on one side, with an old frayed plain black hoodie. He had neglected to wash his hair for several days and now it hung in a oily tuft over his left eye, the right side, once cropped, had started to grow out and stuck out in random places and the dye he had used on his hair had also started to fade and grow out at the roots. 'Nothing like making a great first impression' he thought bitterly to himself as he picked up his bag and bedsheet and left the room.
Once downstairs, Frank went straight to the kitchen where his mother sat reading a book in her nightgown. Frank ignored her greeting as he walked towards the washing machine, shoving the bedsheet inside, adding powder and slamming it shut. 'I'm going' Frank stated monotonously grabbing the pack of cigarettes which lay on the counter and heading towards the front door. 'At least have something to eat Frank, you havent eaten properly in ages' his mother replied, standing up quickly and hurrying over to him with a plate in her hand. 'just take some toast or something.' She pleaded. 'Bye mom' Frank said, ignoring her comments and closing the door in her expressionless face.
School didnt start for another 45 minutes but Frank wasn't going to school just yet. He headed across the road to the empty park. He had eveything he needed for now in his bag: his bottle of vodka, his cigarettes, and the pencil sharpener blade still encrusted in days old blood.
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