Skin and Bones

It wasn’t until the second movie of the night had just started that my night got worse. The movies had all been scary, but as always, life turns out to be scarier.

“Frank?” Donna whispers softly from the doorway, and everyone turns their head.
“Can you come upstairs?” I just stare at Donna as I wait for a reason to follow, but there is none. At least none to mention in front of the other three that are in the basement with me and Gerard.

“Sure,” I say and use the bed behind me to get up off the floor.

“What is it, mom?” Gerard asks from behind me.

“Nothing, honey. You just stay here and watch your movie. Frank will be right back.” I follow Donna out of the room and up the stairs. We walk down the hallway, and voices start growing louder the closer we get to the living room.
Once I turn the corner to follow Donna, I quickly scan the living room.
There are 3 people aside from me and Donna.
1 of them, I know.
1 of them, I wish I didn’t.
The last, I wish never existed.

“Frank,” the social worker says and gets up from his seat.
“We’ve found your father.” I stare at the last person as he gets up and walks over to me – walking past the social worker, Donald and Donna.
None of them stop him.
And I can’t move away.

“Frank,” he says caringly – as if he ever cared about anything – before he quickly wraps his big arms around me and brings me in close to him.
A tear escapes my burning eyes.
I don’t think I’m breathing.
I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.

“Let him go,” Donald says. I try to spot him, but the world has turned into blurry, colorful spots.
My father loosens his grip, but he doesn’t let go. He keeps one of his arms around my shoulders tightly.

“He is my son.”

“And if you’re any good as a father, you should be able to see that your son doesn’t feel comfortable around you.” Donald’s voice has grown in volume.

“Mind your own damn business.” So has my father’s.

“Gentlemen. Please,” the social worker says quickly.

“He is my son! I have the right to hug him! I’m here to bring him home! I know my rights!” My breath hitches in my throat and sends a jolt through my body.

“He hasn’t been your son for years! You left! You gave up your rights a long time ago!”

“Please. Let’s just all sit down and-“

“I’m taking him home with me!” My dad interrupts the social worker.
My body is shaking. My muscles are convulsing. I’m aching all over – inside and out.

“He’s not a fucking pet! He’s a human being! And he’s already home!”
My father finally lets go of me. I stand still. My body is frozen, yet I can’t stop shaking as my breaths keep coming to sudden holds in my throat.

“This is not his home!” I close my eyes. The yells have grown louder and I can’t stand it. I just want to disappear. I want to get away from it all, but I’m too scared to move.
If I move, I don’t know where I’ll be going.
I might never come back.
I can’t leave.
“Come on Frank,” my father says calmly with a tone of lurking fury in his voice.

“He is not going anywhere!” Donald quickly yells – louder than any of the previous yells.
“You can take this to court if you need to, but I will damn well not just leave him in your incapable hands!”
My dad laughs.
He laughs.
And it scares me more than anything.
I can’t breathe. Now; I truly can’t breathe. I’ve stopped.

“My incapable hands?” He laughs louder.
“Look at him! You haven’t been taking care of him! He’s nothing but skin and bones!”

“That’s only because you haven’t been there for him!” Gerard’s voice sounds so out of place when it’s dripping with venom, but it’s his nonetheless. And it brings me the strength to breathe again.
“Where the hell have you been?” Even in a calm, low tone of voice, there’s still a large pool of venom overflowing with his words.
I don’t open my eyes. I don’t want to see anything.

There’s a long silence. Not a word is said – only the sounds of three heavy breathings are heard, and are completely out of rhythm.

I flinch when I feel a hand wrap around my wrist, but I recognize it as being Gerard’s It’s also Gerard’s voice that softly whispers something in my ear, but I can’t hear it. He tugs at my arm, but I don’t move.
I can’t.
I won’t.

“I’m taking my son home,” my father snarls.

“No, you’re not,” the social worker says. Gerard tugs at my arm again, but I refuse to move.

“What?” It’s not even a question when it comes from my father.
“You told me he was legally still mine!”

“He was. But your behavior today gives me no reason to let him leave with you.” I whimper in relief.
Gerard’s arms are around me before I’m done and he holds me tight as I start sobbing against his chest.

“Fine! He’s a fag anyway.” My father mumbles the last bit.

“Get out of my house!” Donald yells, making me flinch in Gerard’s arms.
Each loud footstep makes me flinch as well.
The sound of the front door opening makes me flinch.
The sound of that same door slamming shut with great force makes me jump.
But Gerard keeps holding me.
He keeps kissing me.
He keeps me safe in his arms.