Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Mirror, Mirror
Chapter Two
Blood dripped down Franks arm as he took the blade to himself, trailing it lightly over the pale skin at first before pressing down deeper, moaning into the pain as his arm cried scarlet. This made him feel good. Nothing could beat this pain, he thought. It made him feel better. Tears sprung to eyes as he reopened a healing cut. Blood seeped through his fingers and pooled onto the floor underneath where Frank sat on the swing. He grunted, breathing heavily as he took the blade out of his flesh. He opened his eyes and wiped the small blade on the inside of his jeans waistband. Then he looked down to inspect his work. His parents had argued again last night. This upset Frank a lot. If he wasn't such a loser, he thought, then he'd be able to stand up for himself and his dad wouldnt be angry at him. There wouldn't be any arguements at home. But he couldn't stand up for himself. He cut when he hurt. He hurt when he cut. Not just from the physical pain but the emotional pain of liking what he was doing to himself. Slowly bringing about his own death. 'But what is the point in surviving' Frank thought 'if I can't live?'
He roughly pulled the sleeve of his hoodie down back over his arm, wincing slightly, and then turned to put the blade back into his bag, pulling out the vodka in turn and taking a gulp, screwing the lid back on and throwing it back in his bag. Gingerly, with his good arm, he jumped down from the swing and picked up his bag with his good hand, and slung it over his shoulder, setting off for school. He brushed past a boy staring open mouthed at him as he exited the park. Frank ducked his head to hide his face and the pink blush which was creeping up his cheeks. 'well shit!' Frank thought again as he turned a corner and lost sight of the boy. 'I hope he didn't see me.'
Frank arrived at school a little over 10 minutes late. And the rest of the day went exactly how he had expected. He picked up his new timetable and went to his first lesson. He got laughed at. He left first class and arrived at his second. He had a pencil aimed at the back of his head. He left his second class and arrived at his third. He got his chair pulled out from undeneath him. He left third class and went for lunch. Somebody 'accidently' hit him in the face with a tray as he queued to buy a drink. He left the lunch room and took the rest of the day off, storming out of the school in tears, not caring what trouble he would be in tomorrow. He spent the rest of the day at the park opposite his house, carving hate onto his arm.
When Frank heard the distant bell for school let out a few streets away, he sighed to himself and picked up his schoolbag from the ground, heading across the road, unlocking the door and creeping up the stairs of the empty house to his room. He closed his door quietly, locked it and turned around, taking in the cleanliness of the room. His mom had done a pretty good job of tidying it, Frank admitted to himself.
He dropped his bag at his bedside and fell forward onto the mattress which served as his bed, laying there for a few moments with his head buried in the matress before sighing and sitting upright again. His mom had put the propped a mirror up against the wall opposite his bed where he could see himself, obviously planning on hanging it up. 'Great' Frank said aloud in a sarcastic voice 'just reminds me how much of a loser I really am.' He leaned forward to look at himself. Arms folded on his lap, his face stitched in a serious expression. He leaned froward towards the mirror and looked himself in the eye 'you're nothing but a piece of shit' he spat angrily to his reflection, his voice rising with each word, as he turned away disgustedly. Silence loomed over the room for half a minute while Frank stared at the ceiling, his arms now folded across his chest and his eyes smarting. He took in a deep breath before looking again at his reflection 'Bet you can't even hear me in there can you?' He said to himself 'What is this, one way glass or something. Well I'll tell you something. Sort your fucking life out you worthless piece of shit!' He looked away from the mirror again, arms folded and chin raised in a childish manner as he lowered his voice which had risen considerably in the last few sentences. 'great, now im talking to myself, way to go Frank, make everyone think you're crazier than they already do. Stupid emo.' He sneered. 'Technically, emo is a music genre, not an insult to a person' a voice said from behind where Frank sat.
Frank yelled as he glanced in the mirror and saw a boy sitting on his window ledge. He stared at him. Frank hadn't even noticed. How long had he been there? He silently prayed the boy hadn't heard him performing a new version of Jekyll and Hyde. 'wh..wha..what?' Frank stuttered, staring at the boy, eyes and mouth open wide in shock. 'I said' the boy repeated calmly 'the term emo is used to describe a music genre and should in no way be used to offend somebody, or in this case, yourself, assuming you don't have an evil twin which you trapped in a mirror? no? Thought that would be unlikely'. Frank gawped open mouthed. So, a random person who he had never even met before had found out where he lived, climbed a wall up to his window and listened to Franks conversation with himself just so he could tell Frank that the word he had just used to insult himself wasn't actually an insult but a music genre? This was beyond unbelievable. All Frank was missing was the long golden hair and this would practically be a performance of Rapunzel. It took Frank a few moments to close his mouth and compose himself 'Just who are you?!' he finally demanded to the boy. In response, the boy hopped down from the window and headed towards Frank, his hand outstretched in greeting. 'Names Gerard' he smiled.
Blood dripped down Franks arm as he took the blade to himself, trailing it lightly over the pale skin at first before pressing down deeper, moaning into the pain as his arm cried scarlet. This made him feel good. Nothing could beat this pain, he thought. It made him feel better. Tears sprung to eyes as he reopened a healing cut. Blood seeped through his fingers and pooled onto the floor underneath where Frank sat on the swing. He grunted, breathing heavily as he took the blade out of his flesh. He opened his eyes and wiped the small blade on the inside of his jeans waistband. Then he looked down to inspect his work. His parents had argued again last night. This upset Frank a lot. If he wasn't such a loser, he thought, then he'd be able to stand up for himself and his dad wouldnt be angry at him. There wouldn't be any arguements at home. But he couldn't stand up for himself. He cut when he hurt. He hurt when he cut. Not just from the physical pain but the emotional pain of liking what he was doing to himself. Slowly bringing about his own death. 'But what is the point in surviving' Frank thought 'if I can't live?'
He roughly pulled the sleeve of his hoodie down back over his arm, wincing slightly, and then turned to put the blade back into his bag, pulling out the vodka in turn and taking a gulp, screwing the lid back on and throwing it back in his bag. Gingerly, with his good arm, he jumped down from the swing and picked up his bag with his good hand, and slung it over his shoulder, setting off for school. He brushed past a boy staring open mouthed at him as he exited the park. Frank ducked his head to hide his face and the pink blush which was creeping up his cheeks. 'well shit!' Frank thought again as he turned a corner and lost sight of the boy. 'I hope he didn't see me.'
Frank arrived at school a little over 10 minutes late. And the rest of the day went exactly how he had expected. He picked up his new timetable and went to his first lesson. He got laughed at. He left first class and arrived at his second. He had a pencil aimed at the back of his head. He left his second class and arrived at his third. He got his chair pulled out from undeneath him. He left third class and went for lunch. Somebody 'accidently' hit him in the face with a tray as he queued to buy a drink. He left the lunch room and took the rest of the day off, storming out of the school in tears, not caring what trouble he would be in tomorrow. He spent the rest of the day at the park opposite his house, carving hate onto his arm.
When Frank heard the distant bell for school let out a few streets away, he sighed to himself and picked up his schoolbag from the ground, heading across the road, unlocking the door and creeping up the stairs of the empty house to his room. He closed his door quietly, locked it and turned around, taking in the cleanliness of the room. His mom had done a pretty good job of tidying it, Frank admitted to himself.
He dropped his bag at his bedside and fell forward onto the mattress which served as his bed, laying there for a few moments with his head buried in the matress before sighing and sitting upright again. His mom had put the propped a mirror up against the wall opposite his bed where he could see himself, obviously planning on hanging it up. 'Great' Frank said aloud in a sarcastic voice 'just reminds me how much of a loser I really am.' He leaned forward to look at himself. Arms folded on his lap, his face stitched in a serious expression. He leaned froward towards the mirror and looked himself in the eye 'you're nothing but a piece of shit' he spat angrily to his reflection, his voice rising with each word, as he turned away disgustedly. Silence loomed over the room for half a minute while Frank stared at the ceiling, his arms now folded across his chest and his eyes smarting. He took in a deep breath before looking again at his reflection 'Bet you can't even hear me in there can you?' He said to himself 'What is this, one way glass or something. Well I'll tell you something. Sort your fucking life out you worthless piece of shit!' He looked away from the mirror again, arms folded and chin raised in a childish manner as he lowered his voice which had risen considerably in the last few sentences. 'great, now im talking to myself, way to go Frank, make everyone think you're crazier than they already do. Stupid emo.' He sneered. 'Technically, emo is a music genre, not an insult to a person' a voice said from behind where Frank sat.
Frank yelled as he glanced in the mirror and saw a boy sitting on his window ledge. He stared at him. Frank hadn't even noticed. How long had he been there? He silently prayed the boy hadn't heard him performing a new version of Jekyll and Hyde. 'wh..wha..what?' Frank stuttered, staring at the boy, eyes and mouth open wide in shock. 'I said' the boy repeated calmly 'the term emo is used to describe a music genre and should in no way be used to offend somebody, or in this case, yourself, assuming you don't have an evil twin which you trapped in a mirror? no? Thought that would be unlikely'. Frank gawped open mouthed. So, a random person who he had never even met before had found out where he lived, climbed a wall up to his window and listened to Franks conversation with himself just so he could tell Frank that the word he had just used to insult himself wasn't actually an insult but a music genre? This was beyond unbelievable. All Frank was missing was the long golden hair and this would practically be a performance of Rapunzel. It took Frank a few moments to close his mouth and compose himself 'Just who are you?!' he finally demanded to the boy. In response, the boy hopped down from the window and headed towards Frank, his hand outstretched in greeting. 'Names Gerard' he smiled.
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