Eat My Heart Out

“Gerard?” I roll onto my stomach and hide my friend before my door creaks open.
“Gerard, did you get a chance to go buy some milk?” mom asks. My lips tremor as I feel the tears well up in me again.

“No. Sorry,” I whine out. The door creaks some more, my floor following.

“What’s wrong, honey?” mom asks as she strokes my hair once. I close my eyes, press my lips together and fight away the stabbing pain in my gut.

I shake my head.

I hear her sigh behind me, before she strokes my hair once again.

“Dinner will be ready soon. Are you hungry?” I quickly shake my head again.
“Alright,” she sighs, before she leaves.

I hate lying to her.

‘I fucking hate you!’

When I hear the door at the top of the stairs click shut, I reach down to the floor. I don’t have to search long before I hear the clink and feel the harsh, smooth glass against my fingers.

I grab the neck of my friend and bring it up onto my bed. I press the cool, brutal glass against my cheek, feeling reassured and safe again.

I bring its lips to my own, sucking on the hard glass, tasting the fumes of the liquid as they rise up through the neck.

I roll onto my back, turn the bottle upside down and pour the burning liquid into my numb throat, feeling the warmth race down my gullet and into my chest.

I close my eyes and enjoy it. I don’t need Frank to feel that warm feeling spread from my chest into my entire body.