Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Stuck in the Middle With You
Friday Night
Frank
There was a scream from downstairs, a woman’s voice. My mom! I jumped off the bed and ran down the stairs. The living room was destroyed. The couch was upside down and across the room, and the TV was lying on the floor, probably broken. All of mom’s little knickknacks that had been on the entertainment center were smashed to pieces. Pictures lay scattered around the room, broken and in pieces. Nothing in the room was untouched, and my mom was nowhere to be seen.
As I headed towards the kitchen I saw that the front door was wide open, and the door jamb was busted, like someone had kicked it open. I raced into the kitchen, and my heart stopped. There was my mom, tied to one of the old wooden dining tables.
The kitchen was in much the same condition as the living room. Dishes were broken and scattered throughout the room. The other three dining chairs had been thrown across the room, and all the drawers were pulled open. Like someone had been looking for something.
I rushed over to my mom, and started trying to untie her when I heard footsteps on the linoleum behind me. Even before I turned around, I knew who would be standing there. I knew he would be coming back to get us. My dad was standing in the middle of the kitchen holding a knife, and smiling darkly.
“I’ve missed you son.” He stumbled toward me. He stopped a mere inches in front of me, pointing the knife to my chest. “How have you been?”
Standing this close I could smell the alcohol on his breath. Of course. He’s always drunk. I barely remember a time when he was ever sober. All of a sudden he pushed me aside, and lunged at mom.
I came crashing down hard on the floor. I was still sore from the incident with Bert, and this only aggravated the pain. My eyes found my dad with the knife he was holding pressed against my mom’s throat. He was whispering something in her ear. I could only imagine what he was saying.
While he wasn’t paying attention, I pulled myself off the floor and attacked him. He flung me down on the ground once again, but instead of turning back to my mom, he focused on me. His eyes were blank, and I had no idea what he could be thinking about. He came crashing down on my stomach. With him sitting on me, I couldn’t move. He was always strong, but alcohol does something to a person. It makes them even stronger.
I grabbed his shoulders and rolled us, so I was sitting on him. He laughed up at me. The laugh was eerily similar to Bert’s yesterday. “Don’t you know your place, faggot?” He spit in my face.
Yes, I had dealt with a million people calling me names and judging me because of my sexuality, but my dad had never been one of them. Of course, I always knew he didn’t approve, he just never said anything before. Hearing him say those words caught me off guard.
Due to my lack of focus, he rolled us back again, this time flipping me onto my stomach. I heard him drop the knife beside me as he grabbed a handful of my hair and picked me up from the floor. As soon as I was standing, He grabbed my shirt collar and forced me against the wall.
From where we were standing I could see my mom sitting in the chair, frantically looking around the room trying to find a way to get out. I had to get away from my dad, I had to help her. All of a sudden a shooting pain shot up my body. He kneed me. The pain was terrible. Before I had a chance to think of anything, he slammed me against the wall again, harder this time. My head bounced off the wall, and soon I could feel a slow trickle of blood travelling down my neck and back.
More blood. That was all I needed.
I did the only thing I could think of, and punched him in the face. Seeing my fist hitting his face was exhilarating. It gave me a new found strength that I never knew I had. He let go of my shirt and I punched him again, right in the stomach.
It was like he didn’t even feel the pain. He charged me. He threw me on the ground and kicked me in the ribs. I tried standing up, but he kicked me again. And again. And again. And again. The moment I heard the crack, pain shot through me. He’d broken a rib. I wrapped my arms around my stomach and curled into a ball.
He laughed again and headed back over to my mom, who was still sitting in the chair helpless. I tried to stand, but couldn’t. The pain was too much. Even crawling was difficult. I watched in horror as he raised the knife and stabbed her once in the heart. She screamed as he stabbed her again and again.
“No!” I jumped up, sweat all over my body. I looked around the dark room, checking my surroundings. I was still in bed, it was just a dream. A really terrible, vivid dream. I ran my hand through my hair, and let out a breathe. My bed was a mess. My pillow was hanging off the side of my bed, my blankets were on the floor and I’d managed to completely kick my sheet off as well. I couldn’t help but laugh a little at myself.
As much as I told myself it was just a dream, I couldn’t shake the feeling. It just seemed to real. Finally, I decided to just go downstairs and check everything out. Of course, as soon as I made it to the living room, I felt incredibly stupid. Everything was just as I had left it. My mom was still sitting there just like I left here.
She must have heard me come in because she turned around to face me. She gave me a wary smile before patting the space next to her. Without any hesitation, I sat down beside her and rested my head on her shoulder. “It sounded like you had quite the dream.”
I just nodded, not wanting to speak. We could talk later.
A//N: Alright! So, here is a second update because I love you. And I just want to take a second to let everyone know that I have finished writing this. There are still about ten more chapters after this, so don't worry! This is not the end.
Frank
There was a scream from downstairs, a woman’s voice. My mom! I jumped off the bed and ran down the stairs. The living room was destroyed. The couch was upside down and across the room, and the TV was lying on the floor, probably broken. All of mom’s little knickknacks that had been on the entertainment center were smashed to pieces. Pictures lay scattered around the room, broken and in pieces. Nothing in the room was untouched, and my mom was nowhere to be seen.
As I headed towards the kitchen I saw that the front door was wide open, and the door jamb was busted, like someone had kicked it open. I raced into the kitchen, and my heart stopped. There was my mom, tied to one of the old wooden dining tables.
The kitchen was in much the same condition as the living room. Dishes were broken and scattered throughout the room. The other three dining chairs had been thrown across the room, and all the drawers were pulled open. Like someone had been looking for something.
I rushed over to my mom, and started trying to untie her when I heard footsteps on the linoleum behind me. Even before I turned around, I knew who would be standing there. I knew he would be coming back to get us. My dad was standing in the middle of the kitchen holding a knife, and smiling darkly.
“I’ve missed you son.” He stumbled toward me. He stopped a mere inches in front of me, pointing the knife to my chest. “How have you been?”
Standing this close I could smell the alcohol on his breath. Of course. He’s always drunk. I barely remember a time when he was ever sober. All of a sudden he pushed me aside, and lunged at mom.
I came crashing down hard on the floor. I was still sore from the incident with Bert, and this only aggravated the pain. My eyes found my dad with the knife he was holding pressed against my mom’s throat. He was whispering something in her ear. I could only imagine what he was saying.
While he wasn’t paying attention, I pulled myself off the floor and attacked him. He flung me down on the ground once again, but instead of turning back to my mom, he focused on me. His eyes were blank, and I had no idea what he could be thinking about. He came crashing down on my stomach. With him sitting on me, I couldn’t move. He was always strong, but alcohol does something to a person. It makes them even stronger.
I grabbed his shoulders and rolled us, so I was sitting on him. He laughed up at me. The laugh was eerily similar to Bert’s yesterday. “Don’t you know your place, faggot?” He spit in my face.
Yes, I had dealt with a million people calling me names and judging me because of my sexuality, but my dad had never been one of them. Of course, I always knew he didn’t approve, he just never said anything before. Hearing him say those words caught me off guard.
Due to my lack of focus, he rolled us back again, this time flipping me onto my stomach. I heard him drop the knife beside me as he grabbed a handful of my hair and picked me up from the floor. As soon as I was standing, He grabbed my shirt collar and forced me against the wall.
From where we were standing I could see my mom sitting in the chair, frantically looking around the room trying to find a way to get out. I had to get away from my dad, I had to help her. All of a sudden a shooting pain shot up my body. He kneed me. The pain was terrible. Before I had a chance to think of anything, he slammed me against the wall again, harder this time. My head bounced off the wall, and soon I could feel a slow trickle of blood travelling down my neck and back.
More blood. That was all I needed.
I did the only thing I could think of, and punched him in the face. Seeing my fist hitting his face was exhilarating. It gave me a new found strength that I never knew I had. He let go of my shirt and I punched him again, right in the stomach.
It was like he didn’t even feel the pain. He charged me. He threw me on the ground and kicked me in the ribs. I tried standing up, but he kicked me again. And again. And again. And again. The moment I heard the crack, pain shot through me. He’d broken a rib. I wrapped my arms around my stomach and curled into a ball.
He laughed again and headed back over to my mom, who was still sitting in the chair helpless. I tried to stand, but couldn’t. The pain was too much. Even crawling was difficult. I watched in horror as he raised the knife and stabbed her once in the heart. She screamed as he stabbed her again and again.
“No!” I jumped up, sweat all over my body. I looked around the dark room, checking my surroundings. I was still in bed, it was just a dream. A really terrible, vivid dream. I ran my hand through my hair, and let out a breathe. My bed was a mess. My pillow was hanging off the side of my bed, my blankets were on the floor and I’d managed to completely kick my sheet off as well. I couldn’t help but laugh a little at myself.
As much as I told myself it was just a dream, I couldn’t shake the feeling. It just seemed to real. Finally, I decided to just go downstairs and check everything out. Of course, as soon as I made it to the living room, I felt incredibly stupid. Everything was just as I had left it. My mom was still sitting there just like I left here.
She must have heard me come in because she turned around to face me. She gave me a wary smile before patting the space next to her. Without any hesitation, I sat down beside her and rested my head on her shoulder. “It sounded like you had quite the dream.”
I just nodded, not wanting to speak. We could talk later.
A//N: Alright! So, here is a second update because I love you. And I just want to take a second to let everyone know that I have finished writing this. There are still about ten more chapters after this, so don't worry! This is not the end.
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