Never Let This Go
I Feel Like I Don't Know You…
“Okay, Mum… Yeah, Franks fine. Look, I swear I’m okay. Mum! I AM O-FUCKING-KAY!” I grimaced as a buzz of abuse came screaming down the phone. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to swear… okay, I love you too… bye.”
I rolled my eyes and dropped the phone back down on the table. That’s the bad thing about being on tour with my boyfriend’s band. My mum calls every five minutes to check I’m not drunk or doing drugs behind her back.
I heard the click as the door to the hotel room opened. It slammed shut a few seconds later as I exited out of the bedroom. I saw my boyfriend slumped against the closed door, with a bottle of vodka in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. An empty bottle of vodka. It was a familiar sight nowadays. As I sniffed disapprovingly, his eyes flickered and blurrily leered at me in the bedroom doorway.
“Hey, babe...” he slurred, as he stumbled towards me. I backed off, shocked.
“What the hell d’you think you’re doing, Frank? This is the fourth night in a row you’ve come home completely plastered,” I was disgusted at what he’d become. A few months ago, he was still the man I loved. But not anymore… My Chemical Romance had gone on tour, and any nights there weren’t shows on; like tonight, were spent getting pissed.
Frank was still stood, swaying in front of me, and when he spoke, I smelt alcohol and smoke on his breath. He went to take a swig of vodka, and held it up to his mouth. But when nothing came out, he frowned and slammed it down on the table next to him. It teetered on the edge, his hands still wrapped around the neck of the bottle. He steadied himself, by leaning on it.
“I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss about it, Abby; I’ve only had a few. You remember when you used to have a drink now and again?” He glanced around the room, “You really don’t do much anymore do you? Not like you used to”. His frown transformed into a smirk. He shoved the vodka bottle away from the edge of the table, and pushed it. It slid across the smooth wood, and shattered against the wall. I shut my eyes. I heard him march across the room and wrench open the minibar. There was a clink of glass bottles, and the sound of Frank pouring them all out. I opened my eyes in time to see him down the entire lot.
I turned silently and went to bed, disappointed, angry and scared. I lay awake until I felt a weight sit down on the opposite end of the bed. Frank lay down and switched off his cell phone, putting in on the side table. I turned over without a word, and dreamt of Frank and me in the early days.
We wandered down the waterfront, hand in hand. The sun was sinking out of view, leaving the sky a pale orange. It had been a hot day, and the heat lingered in the air, but the beach was deserted. I gave Frank a mischievous look, and slipped my hand out of his. I sprinted down the beach, and when I reached the water’s edge I kicked off my shoes and rolled up my jeans. I waded in, laughing and kicking water up into the sky. The orange glow made it sparkle in arcs across the sky. I giggled, prancing around. Frank stood chuckling, the water lapping at his shoes. He imitated an irritated parent, arms crossed, tapping his foot. But his face was smiling, and I began ambling back onto the beach, the turn-ups on my jeans dripping.
I suddenly stood on a sharp pebble and yelped. I hopped on the spot, clutching my painful foot. The grin slipped off Frank’s face and he started towards me with a concerned look. I continued to hop around, until my foot slipped on a slimy rock. I fell into the water, water rippling out from me. Frank ran straight into the water after me. I sat in water up to my waist, and looked up at Frank. I started a fit of laughing again. He took my hand and pulled me out of the water. “Watch out there, girly” he told me, as I once again stood at his height. He smiled at me, and as the sun completely disappeared, we stood, both standing with water washing over our feet. We walked back onto the beach, and sat on the sand watching the sea. After a few minutes, he put his arm around my shoulders and kissed my forehead. I looked up at his face, illuminated in the soft light. I buried my face in his jacket and snuggled under his arm. He tightened his grip, making me feel safe and secure, like nothing could ever go wrong.
A second of cuddling later, Frank turned to face me. His face was no longer friendly. He had a frown on his face and was staring into my suddenly scared eyes. He began shaking me. The sky was dark, and I started to worry. His grip on my shoulders was tight. What was happening?
I gasped, and sat up in bed. Frank had his hands on my shoulders, and was staring expectantly at me. He was dressed in the same clothes as when he came in last night. He had taken a shower though, because his hair was sopping wet, and any remaining eyeliner had smudged.
“Huh…what’s happened, what is it?” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.
“I’ve got band practice, I’ll be back sometime tonight.” Frank gave me a rough peck on the cheek, and was gone.
I rolled my eyes and dropped the phone back down on the table. That’s the bad thing about being on tour with my boyfriend’s band. My mum calls every five minutes to check I’m not drunk or doing drugs behind her back.
I heard the click as the door to the hotel room opened. It slammed shut a few seconds later as I exited out of the bedroom. I saw my boyfriend slumped against the closed door, with a bottle of vodka in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. An empty bottle of vodka. It was a familiar sight nowadays. As I sniffed disapprovingly, his eyes flickered and blurrily leered at me in the bedroom doorway.
“Hey, babe...” he slurred, as he stumbled towards me. I backed off, shocked.
“What the hell d’you think you’re doing, Frank? This is the fourth night in a row you’ve come home completely plastered,” I was disgusted at what he’d become. A few months ago, he was still the man I loved. But not anymore… My Chemical Romance had gone on tour, and any nights there weren’t shows on; like tonight, were spent getting pissed.
Frank was still stood, swaying in front of me, and when he spoke, I smelt alcohol and smoke on his breath. He went to take a swig of vodka, and held it up to his mouth. But when nothing came out, he frowned and slammed it down on the table next to him. It teetered on the edge, his hands still wrapped around the neck of the bottle. He steadied himself, by leaning on it.
“I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss about it, Abby; I’ve only had a few. You remember when you used to have a drink now and again?” He glanced around the room, “You really don’t do much anymore do you? Not like you used to”. His frown transformed into a smirk. He shoved the vodka bottle away from the edge of the table, and pushed it. It slid across the smooth wood, and shattered against the wall. I shut my eyes. I heard him march across the room and wrench open the minibar. There was a clink of glass bottles, and the sound of Frank pouring them all out. I opened my eyes in time to see him down the entire lot.
I turned silently and went to bed, disappointed, angry and scared. I lay awake until I felt a weight sit down on the opposite end of the bed. Frank lay down and switched off his cell phone, putting in on the side table. I turned over without a word, and dreamt of Frank and me in the early days.
We wandered down the waterfront, hand in hand. The sun was sinking out of view, leaving the sky a pale orange. It had been a hot day, and the heat lingered in the air, but the beach was deserted. I gave Frank a mischievous look, and slipped my hand out of his. I sprinted down the beach, and when I reached the water’s edge I kicked off my shoes and rolled up my jeans. I waded in, laughing and kicking water up into the sky. The orange glow made it sparkle in arcs across the sky. I giggled, prancing around. Frank stood chuckling, the water lapping at his shoes. He imitated an irritated parent, arms crossed, tapping his foot. But his face was smiling, and I began ambling back onto the beach, the turn-ups on my jeans dripping.
I suddenly stood on a sharp pebble and yelped. I hopped on the spot, clutching my painful foot. The grin slipped off Frank’s face and he started towards me with a concerned look. I continued to hop around, until my foot slipped on a slimy rock. I fell into the water, water rippling out from me. Frank ran straight into the water after me. I sat in water up to my waist, and looked up at Frank. I started a fit of laughing again. He took my hand and pulled me out of the water. “Watch out there, girly” he told me, as I once again stood at his height. He smiled at me, and as the sun completely disappeared, we stood, both standing with water washing over our feet. We walked back onto the beach, and sat on the sand watching the sea. After a few minutes, he put his arm around my shoulders and kissed my forehead. I looked up at his face, illuminated in the soft light. I buried my face in his jacket and snuggled under his arm. He tightened his grip, making me feel safe and secure, like nothing could ever go wrong.
A second of cuddling later, Frank turned to face me. His face was no longer friendly. He had a frown on his face and was staring into my suddenly scared eyes. He began shaking me. The sky was dark, and I started to worry. His grip on my shoulders was tight. What was happening?
I gasped, and sat up in bed. Frank had his hands on my shoulders, and was staring expectantly at me. He was dressed in the same clothes as when he came in last night. He had taken a shower though, because his hair was sopping wet, and any remaining eyeliner had smudged.
“Huh…what’s happened, what is it?” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.
“I’ve got band practice, I’ll be back sometime tonight.” Frank gave me a rough peck on the cheek, and was gone.