FicWad

((Frank's P.O.V.))

I quickly ran a finger across my lower lip and looked down at it, only to see the blood I had expected to see.

“Bob, please,” I whimpered, my eyes pleading with him to not hit me again. My back was leaning against the refrigerator in the kitchen area of the tour bus, there were pieces of broken glass from a plate that Bob had thrown towards me.

Bob had been washing some dishes and putting them away while I cleaned up the kitchen area a bit. Mikey, Gerard, and Ray were still sleeping in their bunks. I was telling Bob that I was spending our week off from the tour in Chicago to go to my sister's wedding. For some reason, though, he got angry and said that I wasn't allowed to go.

“Excuse me?” I asked him in disbelief, knowing all the while that I really shouldn't.

“I said, you're not going. You're staying with me. All week,” he said, apathy in his voice, not taking is eyes off the dishes.

“Bob, Amber is my SISTER. Are you seriously not gonna let me go to my own sister's wedding?”

“No Frank, I'm not letting you go. You're gonna stay with me at the house in Jersey the entire week.”

“NO BOB, I'M GOING TO THAT FUCKING WEDDING NOW FUCK OFF!” I yelled, immediately regretting it.

Bob then took the plate he was washing and hurled it towards me. I realized what was going on just in time for me to dodge it and listen to it shatter against the refrigerator door. Infuriated by his failed attempt to harm me once again, he punched me in the mouth and I fell to the floor, not really because of the impact but more as a defense mechanism so that he would think he won and just leave me alone.

I watched the blood drip from my lip and hit the floor. My tears finally began to fall and mix with the blood, and the mixture spread about the kitchen floor. My lip was numb and I curled into a ball and began sobbing a bit loudly, knowing that the pressure to my face was only making my lip bleed more.

I could hear Bob sigh loudly and walk away. He walked through the living room area and I heard the door to the bus open and shut. I didn't know where he was going; quite frankly I didn't care. I just want to find a dark corner and sit in it and cry, because it seems as if that's the only option Bob has left me.

I hear footsteps running toward the kitchen area. I hope I'm just hearing things from all the blood loss, but I know I'm wrong when I see the legs of skeleton pajamas getting closer. I hate when people find me in moments like this, at my most vulnerable. It just confirms for me that I am in a bad situation, a terrible one that I really should get out of. The only problem is—I don't want to get out of this situation, when it comes right down to it. Because getting out of this would mean getting out of my 3-year relationship with Bob. I couldn't do that; as much as Bob hurts me, I can't stand the thought of not being with him. I really do love him; dear God, I love him with every fiber of my being. But it's times like these that make me not want to close me eyes when I lie next to him each night. Sometimes I'm not sure if it's because I love him so much that I just love to watch him breathe, or if I'm afraid of the monster he could become.

“Oh, Frank,” Gerard says, kneeling down next to me and cradling me in his arms. I continue to sob into his chest and getting more blood on his pajamas.

“Why do you let him do this to you?” he asks me, obviously not expecting an answer.

“He doesn't mean it,” I try to tell him between hiccupping sobs. I wipe at my running nose. “He only does it because he loves me,” I try to explain. Gerard gets up and wets a towel with freezing cold water and holds it against my lip. I wince.

“Then for your sake, Frankie, I hope he doesn't love you tomorrow.”