FicWad

(A/N: I do not support self-harm or suicide. I think this has to be here. Don't get mad at me for this chapter. It's needed for the rest of the story! You'll see)


Franks POV:

Fuck.

Thats all I can think of right now.

Fuck. Fuck Fuck. FUCK. FUCK. FUUUCCCCKKKK!!!!

Why did I have to be suck a fucking bastard and a pussy!? The guy that I am madly in love with practically threw him self at me and every part of my body was screaming yes! but my brain was screaming NO!. I have been waiting for that moment to happen for like... EVER! And I swore to my self that I would wait and for him to make the first move. But now he did and I had to fucking blow it!

Fuck.

Then it hits me... Gerard is gone. A wave of emptiness and loneliness floods my whole body. Its suffocating me. Drowning me. I can't breath. My body doubles over and I start heaving. Nothing comes out except for dry sobs. I wipe my face on my sleeve. I look at it and notice its a mixture of tears and salt and some blood. My nose is bleeding. It takes me a few moments for my brain to register that fact. A new wave hits me. Its a wave of nausea. I rush to the nearest bathroom and bend over the toilet. Heave. And vomit. I lay my head on the rim of the toilet and start to cry again.

Why do I have to take a perfectly good situation and ruin it. The moment replays over and over in my head. I don't know what I said wrong. I was saying to Gerard that I loved him, and still do, and how having sex wont work for me. He just stood there swaying side to side looking off in the distance with a dazed look in his eyes. He didn't respond to me so I kept saying I'm sorry. I start to cry harder. Before I know it I'm sobbing. I pick my self up off the floor and drag myself to my room and throw myself onto the bed.

I don't know how long I was laying there. I just keep staring at my ceiling. Not really seeing it. Looking at it, but off into space. A couple thoughts floated around my mind and I couldn't really grasp anyone of them and hold on to it. Think about it. Then let if go. But one dangerous thought entered my mind. One that will give anyone chills. Suicide. Kill my self and join Conner. Be happy in my own corner of hell, with Conner.

Suicide.
Fuck.

I lay there for what seems like hours thinking of ways to end it all. Thinking of ways for it to look like an accident. Or frame someone else. I roll off my bed and slink to the closet where by hidden box of treasures lie. I push away some old clothes and trow some hangers on the ground. I reach my hand into the pocket of my old winter coat my mom bought me a few years back and find what I was looking for. I take the box out and place it on my bed. An old box of razor blades that I bought over the summer right before freshmen year in highschool.

I slowly open the box, blood pounding in my ears. The spur of adrenalin that even the SIGHT of clean, unused razors give me makes me a little light headed. I look into the box. 27 unused razors. There used to be 30. I roll up my sleeve and gaze at the pale skin covering my arm. I trace my finger along the old scars. I can remember the stories to each scar. The lightest for family. The deepest for Conner.

It feels... different for me to be adding a (Hopefully) deep cut for someone other than Conner. Someone that I may love more than Conner. Love him more than Conner!? I scream. A scream full of hatred. Not toward Conner, Gerard, or the universe. But toward myself. The scream gets louder and stronger. I push everything off my bed and I throw all the clothes out of my closet.

Screaming.
Suicide.
Fuck.

I throw my lamp onto the floor and smash the bulb against the wall. I grab a razor, slicing my finger as I do so, and slash it at my wrist. Over and over again. Pressing had onto my veins. Into the muscle. Pressing and slashing. Watching the blood POUR out of my wrist and arm. I switch hands and press and slash the razor on the other arm. Messier and more shallow. But I honestly don't care. I press and slash the razor on my chest, my stomach, and my legs. Blood is everywhere. I keep cutting until my hands are shaking. I go weak. I can't feel anything. I fall the the floor and curl up. Pain.

Pain.
Screaming.
Suicide.
Fuck.

I slowly start to black out. I shift my gaze to my wrists. Pulsing with blood. I smile to my self. Mentally reuniting myself with Conner. I loved him more than anyone. But Gerard was the exception. He left me. He fucking left me! He ran. He ran from me. I whimper softly and black out. Full of anger and and sadness. I'm gone.

I'm floating. Weightless.

Weightless.
Pain.
Screaming.
Suicide.
Fuck.

My heart beat slows and I'm not breathing. But I can feel oxygen flowing through my lungs and Co2 flowing out. I feel pressure on my chest. Like someone's sitting on it. I feel like choking but I now I wont be able too.I can hear the peep of a monitor. A sterile smell fills my nostrils. I can't seem to string my thoughts together. I know where I am, but I don't know the name.

I slowly open my eyes. At first I can't see anything because I was momentarily blinded by the light. I moan softly and realize that I have a splitting head ache. Once I can see again I realize that I'm in a hospital. I look at my body. I have tubes in my arms, shit attached to my chest, I'm covered in gauze and bandages, and I have an oxygen mask on. I look over to the seating area and I see a dark figure hunched over in one of the chairs shaking and crying. They are all dressed in black with dark raven hair in front of their face. Gerard.

Gerard.
Weightless.
Pain.
Screaming.
Suicide.
Fuck.

I feel weak all over and my breathing is getting shallower and faster. I hear the beeping of my monitor increase in speed and volume. I hear Gerard calling for the nurse. Gerard. Oh my God! GERARD. My body lurches and my eyes roll back in my skull. Gerard. My body is shaking and I rip off the oxygen mask. Then the monitor flat lines. And I black out.

This time I sink into the fuzz and darkness.

And I don't resurface.

Gerard.
Weightless.
Pain.
Screaming.
Suicide.
Fuck.