He's a Bitch

Frank POV

If I had to rate how happy I felt with my life on a scale from one to ten, one being ecstatic and ten being depressed, I think it'd be an eleven.

Everything has become a whirlwind of quick pashes and gropes whilst at school. Mikey seems to be able to find me wherever I go and finds any excuse to pull me off into the boys' toilets for a make-out session. Normally I would have been up for this kind of thing and I would have loved the attention, but I just hate it. And it's really making me hate him to be honest. What kind of guy can't even tell that his boyfriend doesn't love him? I mean, Mikey's not stupid but he can sure be dumb sometimes.

I still run into Gerard sometimes at school, but we keep it impersonal and brief. I'm pretty sure he's trying to avoid a repeat of what happened on the day I got out of hospital, and he's intent on denying it ever happened....which hurts me actually. How can he say that he liked me and then just ignore me?

I sat there, sitting on my knees on the grass behind a row of bushes. Gerard and that guy with big hair, Ray were hanging out and smoking; they were sitting in the small courtyard around the back of the school. It was paved and had a garden that ran around the sides with a small wall that the two of them were sitting on, enjoying their free that they had at the moment.

I watched as Gerard brought his cigarette up to his mouth, held so delicately in his hand, and inhaled gently on it; it brought back memories of when he'd given me head and I fought to keep dirty thoughts from creeping into my mind.

The two of them were sitting casually; slouched posture, legs crossed at the ankles. My eyes travelled down Gerard's body; he was wearing really tight pants which didn't leave much to the imagination...not that I'm complaining.

There was just something about him; his sense of dress, his taste in music, his artwork and his looks...it just seemed to work and all fit together. It's as if he's some well-defined character in a book or movie. There's nothing that's out of place with him.

In actual truth, I should have been in class...but with Mikey always able to find me during our breaks, I'd reduced myself to skipping class in order to spy on Gerard. Yes, that is how low I have stooped and that's how desperate I am to look at him in real life. You don't want to know how much time I've spent jerking off to the photos of him on the camera he gave me; cause if I added it all up, it'd be a lot.

I shook my head of that thought and peered through the branches of the bushes once more. The bushes were thick enough that I couldn't be seen from where Ray and Gerard were sitting, but I could see them through the mass of green. It was the perfect cover and if I kept quiet, they'd never know I was here.

I leant forward as I heard Ray say something to Gerard.

"Mikey told me you've found some new guy that you're into."

My eyes widened as he said that and I saw Gerard stiffen a little at Ray's words. I wondered if he'd tell him...and if he did, would Ray tell Mikey? God, I hope not.

Gerard took his cigarette daintily from his lips and I saw him exhale deeply through his mouth. He turned in Ray's direction and stubbed out the cigarette on the wall, his expression neutral.

"What's Mikey been saying to you?" he asked; his voice was gravelly as if he had a cold and for some reason it sounded really sexy.

Ray shrugged and looked down at his feet, probably sensing that Gerard didn't want to be questioned about it.

"Nothing really," Ray said lightly. "He just said that the reason you've been so anti-social lately is because you're having some guy problems."

"And since when is it Mikey's business to discuss my private life?" Gerard asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Dude, he was worried about you," Ray said, eyes widening at the look on Gerard's face. "All of us have been....Bob too."

"Yeah, it's all dandy for you," Gerard hissed. "You're all happy and in love, and Mikey has his fucking little whore and do you see me with anyone?....No."

I blinked, hurt that he could call me a whore. He knew my dad abused me, he knew that I had low self-esteem, he knew I slept around because I wasn't fucking useful for anything else. When he'd said it so many times before, it didn't hurt me because I hated him. But I really liked him now and he just...how could he say that?

I felt tears come to my eyes and I knew I had to get out of there before I gave myself away by crying...but they'd see me anyway. What can I do? I sniffed and gulped a few times before composing myself. I turned away from them though and covered my ears, not wanting to hear another word that Gerard said. I'd already heard more then I wanted to.

In no time, the bell for next period had sounded and I heard Gerard and Ray's footsteps as they departed the courtyard and headed to their next class. I waited until they'd gone and I stood up, brushing grass and dirt off my pants.

It'd all been a lie. He'd just pretended to like me and he still thought that I was a whore. Why couldn't I put two and two together and see that he was just looking for someone who would be easy to get with? Why else did he visit me in hospital? To gain my trust so he could fuck me around. I felt so angry at him and myself for letting him just use me like that. But who could blame him really? He was a horny teenage guy and I was an unhappy teenage whore.

But then...why did he cry? A thought in my head quickly answered that question. Frank, you know better then anyone that pretending to cry isn't hard.

I wiped away my tears, slung my bag over my shoulders and headed out of the school grounds and back home. I didn't care that I was supposed to be in class; it wasn't even lunchtime yet, but I didn't want to chance an encounter with him. I'd rather face my physcially abusive, alcoholic dad then have to face an emotionally abusive, alcoholic Gerard.

-

When I walked through the front door of my house, I found my dad sprawled out on the couch. Not suprising.

He looked hung-over. Not suprising either.

I hoped that I'd be able to tiptoe past him and to my room, but I was sprung. His eyes flickered open and scanned the room, finally focusing on me as I stood paralyzed with fear. My breathing quickened....I knew what was coming next.

"Why aren't you in fucking school, faggot?" he spat at me.

I flinched at his words; they were filled with such hate. I already knew that I hadn't been planned, but he was my dad....shouldn't he care about me?

"I-I wasn't feeling too good," I stuttered, just wanting to lock myself in my room.

My dad struggled to sit up on the couch but failed. He glared at me, an annoyed grunting noise leaving his throat. I wondered if mum was home, but it wouldn't matter. If dad decided to beat me, she'd just stand back and let it happen. I couldn't even call this place I lived in home. It wasn't my home. I didn't feel safe here.

"Fucking help me sit up, boy!" my dad roared at me.

I hurriedly disposed of my bag and rushed forward, not wanting to anger him further. He never called me by my name or by any proper nickname. His nicknames for me consisted of fag, faggot, dipshit, little cunt, dickhead, fuckhead and when he was feeling especially nice he'd simply call me boy.

I didn't want to touch him; I hated being anywhere near this sad excuse for a human being, but I looped an arm underneath his and hoisted him up into a sitting position. He didn't thank me, but I'd come to expect that from him. Instead, I was met with a slap to the side of my face. And it wasn't soft either. It was so hard that my cheek stung, my eyes filled with tears and I fell backwards into dad's CD player. My back connected painfully with the hard plastic and I could already imagine myself trying to explain how this happened to Mikey.

Dad got up with an angry yell and grabbed me by the collar of my school shirt. My eyes were wide with fear as he looked at me, teeth bared.

"Me and your mother pay for your fucking education, boy," he snarled, spit flying from his mouth. "You'll never amount to anything if you don't get an education. I told your mother she should have had an abortion. I fucking said that having you would ruin our lives...but she wouldn't fucking listen to me and now look at where we are. You are a screw up, boy. You're a mistake and I never wanted you. I should have fucking put you up for adoption when I had the chance....the least you can do is attend school and try to do something useful for once!"

I nodded frantically, knowing that it was best to agree with him and not argue. I hoped that he would let me go, but he flung me against the wall and I only just avoided hitting my head against it, but my back hit the plaster, sending pain throughout my entire body.

The force of the throw made me fall down the wall and onto the ground, where my dad proceeded to kick my hard in the stomach one, two, three, four times and counting. I just lay there, not bothering to fight back, not bothering to do anything. There was nothing I could do except just whimper in pain and wait until he got bored. Each kick to my stomach made me feel as though I was going to be sick and I struggled to keep down the contents of my stomach. I was sure my insides would just rip from all this abuse and I sometimes wished they would so I could just die.

My dad's rough hands pulled me up to standing and I was about to thank him for cutting me some slack, when his hand came into contact with my face again. I felt blood dripping out of my nose. The next hit was aimed at my eye and soon enough it had become so puffy tha I was finding it hard to see out of it. He repeatedly hit me and soon hits became punches until I was being fully beaten as he used every ounce of energy he could muster.

"Pl-please stop!" I begged, blood and tears flowing down my face. "I'm sorry....I'll go back to school! I'm sorry."

He didn't stop. He continued beating me around my face and torso until I could barely stand. I was scared shitless. I began to shake and tried to pull away but he held me tightly around my wrist and just beat me with more force.

My vision became blurrier with each new punch and hit to my face, and I wasn't sure of the exact instant in which my dad stopped beating me. All I knew was, one minute I was getting assaulted by rough and brutal hands and the next I was being comforted with soft and gentle ones. I heard yells of 'pathetic human being' and 'child-beater' and I tried to work out who my savior was as I stared with blurry eyes into their face. I couldn't see any of their features properly.

They struggled to pick my body up in their arms and I was carried out of the house. I gripped tightly to them, thankful that they'd saved me but then scary thoughts infiltrated my brain. I didn't even know who this person was yet....what if they were going to take me away somewhere and rape me?

"Please don't hurt me," I whimpered.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, Frank," they replied softly. "I'm gonna take you back to my place and get you cleaned up."

They came to a slow halt and I felt their hands move over my lower back as they tried to keep me in their arms.

"Wrap your legs around my waist," I heard them say. "It'll make it easier to carry you."

I used whatever little strength I had left to wrap my legs around the person's waist. Their voice sounded familiar, but in my bad state I just couldn't work out who they were. They continued to walk down the street with me in their arms and I lifted my head, giving them a small kiss to the cheek. I may not be able to see who they are but they saved me from my dad and I was so grateful to them for that.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Don't thank me," they replied; their voice became harsh and I wondered what I'd done wrong. "That fucker should have been locked up ages ago."

I gave a small "mmm" of agreement and rested my chin on their shoulder as the blurred outlines of houses went past. One of their hands rubbed my back while the other was supporting me under my ass. I had a feeling that whoever was carrying me was also groping me, but for some reason I didn't have a problem with it.

"Who are you?" I asked quietly.

"Y-you don't know who I am?" they asked, their voice filled with surprise.

"My eyes are too blurry....I can't see properly," I whined.

"But you still know who you are, right?"

"Frank Iero," I responded.

They let out a sigh of relief and turned right as we reached the end of my street. I lifted my head to study their face once more; trees and houses were slowly coming into focus. It took me a while to decipher their features, but I could tell that they had dark hair and I knew that they were a guy from their voice and the fact that they didn't have boobs.

And then I realized. A pale-skinned face framed with black hair swam into focus as they stroked my bloodied hair out of my eyes and held me tighter. I could not believe it. Out of all people, I hadn't expected it to be him.

"Gerard?"