Blinded

I’m sitting on the couch in front again – waiting for Frank to get back. I asked the guys earlier where he was, and they said he was out. So I wait for him.
I need to talk with him – to him, perhaps. I need to tell him. I need to ask him how and when he knew – why he fell in love with me. It’s a long shot, but maybe that’s when I fell for him too.
I’m picking at my nails again. Earlier a chip of my nail broke off, and when I tried to get rid of it I wounded up pulling it out all the way to the root. Now the left side of my left thumb hurts like a fucking bitch. I’m trying to bite away the rest of the line of nail that seems to dig into my finger, but it’s fucking hard.
Suddenly the door opens and footsteps trudge up the stairs. The door closes and the footsteps continue. They sound heavy – struggled.
I stand.

“Frank?” The footsteps stop. Nothing is being said. No one answers.
I know it’s Frank.
“I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t wanna talk,” Frank snares at me. I’m taken aback.
His footsteps walk closer to me and his shoulder bumps against me. I keep my balance this time and I quickly grab him arm with my good hand. I’m surprised when I get a good, firm grip on my first try.

“Frank, stop! Just listen to me.”

“I’ve listened to you enough!” He’s yelling. His voice sounds slurred. I frown.

“Have you been drinking?” I hear Frank laugh and then sigh loudly.

“No, Gerard! I haven’t! I don’t solve my problems the way you do!” His words hit me like a bullet to the brain – it knocks all sense and strength out of me and leaves me feeling and thinking nothing.
Frank tears his arm out of my grip and walks away – his footsteps moving quicker this time.
And then he’s gone. And then everything is quiet – silent.
When I snap out of my trance, I realize my torn nails are ripping holes in the hem of my shirt. I keep doing it. It somehow comforts me – makes me think I have control of something.
But I don’t. I don’t have control of anything.
My chest is tight and my throat feels like it’s slowly being squeezed shut by an invisible pressure.
And then one single thought literally brings me to my knees. It rips my soul apart and takes away any sign of strength in my entire body. It tears my mind apart and leaves it behind in a million broken pieces.
It kills me. Just one single thought kills my insides – finishes them all off.

I need a drink.