Suffering Alone In Silence

Frank’s POV
Gerard picked me up out of the car and took me to my own room. I begged him to stay; he gave in after a while and lay down with me. I didn’t want to fall asleep, but I was just so damn tired. I didn’t want to close my eyes. I didn’t feel like being haunted in my dreams. It was inevitable anyway.
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“Stupid faggot!”

I closed my eyes and prayed to god for death. I feel the belt make contact with my neck. I howl in pain.

“Take it like a man, faggot!”

I now beg for god to kill me. I hear the belt, I wait, tense, then whimper, biting my tongue, as it makes contact with my back.

“Does that feel good?” He sneers at me.

“Please...please stop.” I beg. It’s no use.

“Not until, you stop being a faggot!”

The belt hits my broken body three more times. Another to my back, one to the top of my ass, and the third to my thighs. I hear the belt fall to the floor with a metallic clink. I think the worst is over, but I am wrong.

My eyes are closed, and I am curled into myself, muttering about just wanting to die. I am pulled up from my position by my hair. He’s dragging me by the hair, down the hallway, up the stairs, into the bathroom.

He strips me of my clothes, strips himself, and then pushes me against the wall. He shoves himself harshly into me. I scream, beg, and plead for my life. He curses me and grabs my hair, forcing my forehead into the wall as he continues to rape me. I feel him release in me and pull out. I sink to the floor, hoping he is finished with me. Mom’s out, so no one will save me if he finally decides to kill me.

I watch with half lidded eyes as he turns the shower on. He drags me into it and closes the shower door. I am so broken and beaten that I can only scream as the hot water burns me. It singes my skin instantly. I can see the blood starting to seep out of my skin, I just cry harder. The water suddenly shuts off and dad walks away.

I am still in the shower cubicle when mom finds me. I cry and scream at her. She leaves, tears in her eyes, pity is evident. I find the little strength I have left and crawl out of the shower, clothe myself in what I wore before and stumble out of the bathroom, down the stairs and down the hall. I get to the door, pull it open. I take a deep breath and start running.

I can vaguely register the sound of a car coming up behind me, but I don’t remember anything after that. It’s all blank. I think the car may have hit me, I don’t know though, because next thing I know is that I wake up in Intensive Care.

Child services were called in because it was reported that my dad ran me over, that plus the third degree burns, lacerations to my neck, back and thighs. My malnutrition was of concern to the doctors and kept me in hospital for two weeks. From there I was put in a group home, where I caused havoc, due to my now dependency on Mikey’s prescription drugs, the violent nightmares and my irritable mood.
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I wake up screaming. The bed now void of anyone other than me. The sheets are soaked with sweat and tears and a few, barely noticeable drops of blood. I search for the source of the blood and notice that I ripped open an old wound on my arm. I am crying and shaking, terrified of what my mind conjured up.

Suddenly my door opens up and bangs against the wall. I scream, terrified and cower in my bed, closing my eyes and curling into a ball. I hear the footsteps approach and scream even harder.

“NO...PLEASE...NO DON’T HURT ME....PLEASE I’LL DO ANYTHING...NO!” I scream and plead.

“Shh, Frankie...Shh, it’s me Gerard...Shh Frankie.”

“NO...DON’T...NO...NO PLEASE!” I scream terrified.

“Shh Frankie.”

I cry hysterically, but the footsteps stop. I can hear another set of footsteps coming into my room.

“What’s going on!?” A female voice asks.

“He...he won’t calm down...I don’t know what happened or what to do...he just won’t calm down,” The same voice from before replies.

I scream, and cry and I just can’t stop. I am gripping the sheets desperately, clawing my way further into the bed. I can feel everything. The lacerations, the cuts, the burns. They are all ripping me open. I cry out in pain.

“Mom make him calm down...please,” the voice mumbles.

“I don’t think I can. I don’t even think he is really conscious of reality.” She mumbles.

“Oh god...Frankie.” the male voice mumbles.

“STOP....STOP, STOP, STOP...STOP IT...IT HURTS....STOP!” I scream as the pain get worse.

I sit up in the bed, still in hysterics. I see the window. I make a run for it. I have to get out of here. I almost make it when I am caught off guard, by someone wrapping their arms around me, holding me quick.

“LET ME GO...YOU’RE HURTING ME...LET ME GO...IT HURTS,” I scream.

The person lets go but I just curl myself under the desk.

I start to bang my head against the desk. I go faster and harder, crying and screaming as I do. Suddenly I hit my head and everything turns black.

Oh god I think I just killed myself.