Anonymous
Part Three: The Doctor
When I heard the words, “You won’t be coming with us…” I think I went to slice your throat. I knew you and the guys wanted me to get better before I started playing again. Sure I could understand that and I loved that everyone cared enough about me to worry. But I hated being treated like a paralyzed child. It was a suicide attempt, it was a mistake, but you were making sure I learned from it…the hardest fucking way.
I threw shit at you- not actual shit of course, I am one step above the primates. I threw your clothes, your art books, your stupid little comic books. I threw them all at you, watched them with some sick excitement as they hit your flinching body and fell to the floor ruined. What I didn’t enjoy was how you didn’t even try to stop me. You just looked at the floor, in shame, like you were a child accepting a punishment. I was punishing you, for punishing me for hurting myself over you. It seemed so stupid…
So I stopped throwing stuff at you. I dropped the Batman comic, wincing at the loud thud that echoed through the room when it hit the floor. I stared at you weakly, more tears wanting to form but I tried my best to suppress them. You brought your eyes to look at me- slowly as if afraid I was going to throw something else. You removed your hands from your pockets…
“Are you done?” You scolded me, “can I speak.”
“No,” I countered immaturely, “no. I don’t want to hear it.”
“Too fucking bad!” You stomped over to me, grabbed my shoulders and gently shook me as if to knock some sense into my thick scull, “It’s for your own good!”
“Is lying to our fans for my own good to!”
They were all going to say I had teeth pulled…that my sinuses were acting up because of it- oh what a load of crock of shit; but I am sure our lovely fans will eat it up because My Fucking Chemical Romance said it. Oh they sure liked to take advantage of the fact our fans believe us too much.
He tightened the grip on my shoulders, “How do you think they’d react to their hero trying to kill himself.”
“Oh, so you can be the martyr for the cause and not me huh?”
“That’s not what I mea-“
“Gerard fucking Way tried killing himself, makes him a fucking hero, but Frankie Iero tries to kill himself and we have to hide him like he’s a fucking disease!”
You pushed me…you pushed me into the fucking wall. My small body hit the wall with a loud crash- some pictures of us fell to the floor- smacking my head…hard and ejecting tears from my eyes. I stared at you as if you had just fucking shot me…you just stared as if I had fucking shot you.
“How could you say that,” you whimpered, “how could you fucking bring that up?”
I looked at the floor, taking in a deep breath to shy away the rest of the tears. I dug my nails into the palms of my hands, hoping that the pain would go away if I did. The brain could only focus on one source of pain…I wanted it to focus on the pain on my hand rather than the pain in my heart.
“How could you,” I whispered, “how could you betray me?”
There was a painful silence between us, but I could hear everyone call for you from our living room; even that whore…oh her voice sure knew how to travel. All of them, calling for you Gerard. Like our fans. Only you, Gerard, only you!
“I didn’t betray you,” your body was shaking, “I didn’t mean to betray you.”
You turned and walked out of your room. Abandoning me again…you were leaving me to wallow. I snapped though. Like the other night when I slit my wrist. I couldn’t have you leave- no, not again. Not physically. You left me emotionally, you proved that when you called her…when you said she….I couldn’t let you leave….
“Gerard! Don’t leave me!” I shouted and ran after you, only to have my body collide with yours. Your arms quickly wrapped around me, pulling me closer to you than ever. I grabbed your jacket, holding and praying to whatever god was up there to never let me let you go.
“I’m not leaving you, Frankie,” you choked out, “I’m not leaving…stop shaking please.”
I couldn’t help it though; I was shaking like a leaf caught in a violent wind…trying to hold on to life. It sounded so dramatic, but I couldn’t help the raging emotions that tore through my body. I wanted to be mad at you, but I didn’t want you to leave me. I was going insane. I was going fucking insane.
“Leave her for me-“
“Don’t ask that of me.”
My knees gave way…I think it was because somehow, the wound on my wrist re-opened…same as the wound on my heart.
I threw shit at you- not actual shit of course, I am one step above the primates. I threw your clothes, your art books, your stupid little comic books. I threw them all at you, watched them with some sick excitement as they hit your flinching body and fell to the floor ruined. What I didn’t enjoy was how you didn’t even try to stop me. You just looked at the floor, in shame, like you were a child accepting a punishment. I was punishing you, for punishing me for hurting myself over you. It seemed so stupid…
So I stopped throwing stuff at you. I dropped the Batman comic, wincing at the loud thud that echoed through the room when it hit the floor. I stared at you weakly, more tears wanting to form but I tried my best to suppress them. You brought your eyes to look at me- slowly as if afraid I was going to throw something else. You removed your hands from your pockets…
“Are you done?” You scolded me, “can I speak.”
“No,” I countered immaturely, “no. I don’t want to hear it.”
“Too fucking bad!” You stomped over to me, grabbed my shoulders and gently shook me as if to knock some sense into my thick scull, “It’s for your own good!”
“Is lying to our fans for my own good to!”
They were all going to say I had teeth pulled…that my sinuses were acting up because of it- oh what a load of crock of shit; but I am sure our lovely fans will eat it up because My Fucking Chemical Romance said it. Oh they sure liked to take advantage of the fact our fans believe us too much.
He tightened the grip on my shoulders, “How do you think they’d react to their hero trying to kill himself.”
“Oh, so you can be the martyr for the cause and not me huh?”
“That’s not what I mea-“
“Gerard fucking Way tried killing himself, makes him a fucking hero, but Frankie Iero tries to kill himself and we have to hide him like he’s a fucking disease!”
You pushed me…you pushed me into the fucking wall. My small body hit the wall with a loud crash- some pictures of us fell to the floor- smacking my head…hard and ejecting tears from my eyes. I stared at you as if you had just fucking shot me…you just stared as if I had fucking shot you.
“How could you say that,” you whimpered, “how could you fucking bring that up?”
I looked at the floor, taking in a deep breath to shy away the rest of the tears. I dug my nails into the palms of my hands, hoping that the pain would go away if I did. The brain could only focus on one source of pain…I wanted it to focus on the pain on my hand rather than the pain in my heart.
“How could you,” I whispered, “how could you betray me?”
There was a painful silence between us, but I could hear everyone call for you from our living room; even that whore…oh her voice sure knew how to travel. All of them, calling for you Gerard. Like our fans. Only you, Gerard, only you!
“I didn’t betray you,” your body was shaking, “I didn’t mean to betray you.”
You turned and walked out of your room. Abandoning me again…you were leaving me to wallow. I snapped though. Like the other night when I slit my wrist. I couldn’t have you leave- no, not again. Not physically. You left me emotionally, you proved that when you called her…when you said she….I couldn’t let you leave….
“Gerard! Don’t leave me!” I shouted and ran after you, only to have my body collide with yours. Your arms quickly wrapped around me, pulling me closer to you than ever. I grabbed your jacket, holding and praying to whatever god was up there to never let me let you go.
“I’m not leaving you, Frankie,” you choked out, “I’m not leaving…stop shaking please.”
I couldn’t help it though; I was shaking like a leaf caught in a violent wind…trying to hold on to life. It sounded so dramatic, but I couldn’t help the raging emotions that tore through my body. I wanted to be mad at you, but I didn’t want you to leave me. I was going insane. I was going fucking insane.
“Leave her for me-“
“Don’t ask that of me.”
My knees gave way…I think it was because somehow, the wound on my wrist re-opened…same as the wound on my heart.