I Can Transform You

War

POV: Frank

-2 weeks later-

If I wasn’t insane before, I definitely fucking was after a fortnight in this mental prison. Everyone around me was a total whackjob, either talking to themselves, lamps, or no one. Ever.

I chose the third option of talking to no one ever.

I'd never felt so completely fucking alone. I’d become a total recluse since coming here. But what did they expect when I didn’t even belong here? There was nothing wrong with me, damn it. I was completely consumed with frustration and rage at my mom and Mr. Way for sending me here, and Gerard for not doing anything to stop it, or even coming to see me. Two fucking weeks I had spent in this hell, completely alone, with no contact to the outside world. It was enough to make anyone crazy.

Therapy sessions were worse than I remembered them. At first, I didn’t talk at all; I just sat and sulked, staring down at my lap and playing with my hands. Then, my psychiatrist, Mrs Leigh, told me I would never make any progress and be allowed to leave if I didn’t cooperate, and well, she couldn’t shut me up after that. Unfortunately for both of us, I was just ranting about the injustice of my imprisonment mostly, and other stuff she didn’t want to hear: I still wasn’t telling the twisted fucking truth about my past.

So, two whole weeks into my therapy programme, I still wasn’t making any progress. I was still as secretive and suicidal as ever, spending my days just planning how I was going to escape this place and then the world altogether. Because let’s face it, I had nothing to live for on the outside now either. No one seemed to be missing me while I was in here, so they wouldn’t miss me if I disappeared from planet earth altogether, right?

“Frank?” one of the nurses suddenly knocked on my door, making me jerk out of the light sleep I had drifted into. It was only the middle of the afternoon, but there was little else to do in this place when it wasn’t therapy time or meal time; I spent most of my day locked in my room, sleeping awake.

I sat up slightly in bed and just stared at the door, wondering what they wanted. They would never just leave me the fuck alone to die of boredom. What was it this time? More fucking medication? I was already drugged up enough on anti-depressants, thanks. Not to mention benzodiazepines, since I’d become somewhat prone to panic attacks recently. (That’s what they get for locking me in a place with complete strangers and forcing me to dwell on certain memories that were better left forgotten.)

Seriously, I was mentally falling apart in here.

“You have a visitor,” the nurse’s nasally voice sounded again, making my chest tighten with anticipation.

Wait, what? Someone has actually remembered I exist?

I let my curiosity get the better of me and dragged myself off my bed and over to the door, hesitating for just a second before pulling it open. I hadn’t let myself think for one second it might be him… How the fuck could it be? I’d told myself he’d moved to fucking Africa. It was literally the only logical explanation I could think of for why he didn’t come to see me the first fucking day I came here.

But there he was. The last person in the world I wanted to see right now. And all I could do, as he stood there and smiled sheepishly at me, was frown deeply and slam the door in his fucking face.

“Frankie, please!” he whined desperately, and so many emotions crashed over me in one massive tidal wave: anger, sadness, confusion, frustration... I could barely contain everything.

“Fuck off!” I shouted through the door, gripping the door frame with shaking hands as I fought against the tears burning my eyes.

“You have every right to be angry with me,” he spoke calmly, sounding like he was pressing himself up against the door and talking through the crack. There was only a door separating us, and I couldn’t take it. Why did he have to fucking come now?

Sure, I was spending everyday thinking about him; wondering what he was doing, who he was with, if he was thinking about me… But I was coping. I was just about learning to function without him. I was almost getting over him.

So yes, thank you, Gerard, for understanding my right to be angry with you. Now understand this: I want you to fucking leave.

“But please, let me explain,” he persisted, deaf to the voices in my head raging at him.

I didn’t want a fucking explanation. Okay, that’s a lie, I did… But I couldn’t even bear to be in the same room as him right now. I wasn’t emotionally stable enough for it; I’d probably just end up screaming at him in blind anger and bursting into tears, then having a panic attack from the stress of it.

I was shaky on my feet, so I ran back to my bed and collapsed on it, pressing my face as far into the pillow as I could, trying to block out the images in my mind of his beautiful face.

How could he possibly think I would want to see him and talk now? I gave up waiting for him after the first week. He missed his fucking chance. I mean, where the fuck has he been the last fourteen days, huh? Where the fuck was he when I was being dragged to this hellhole in the first place? He abandoned me right when I needed him most, and I would never forgive him for that.

“Frank, we’re coming in,” the nurse suddenly declared, taking matters into her own hands and unlocking my door with her spare key.

I’m sorry, was this her motherfucking decision to make? No, I don’t believe it was. If I didn’t want to see Gerard, who the hell was she to get involved and force me to?

I lifted my head from my pillow and shot her a death glare over my shoulder, as she burst into my room, breaking an entry and pissing me off beyond belief. Gerard hesitated in the doorway behind her, clearly too nervous to come straight in against my command, which yeah, good, he fucking should be. I’d be scared too if I was him.

“I said fuck off!” I spat at both of them, before faceplanting my pillow once more.

Why did no one listen to a word I said anymore? When I said I was fine and didn’t need to be here, they just gave me pitying looks and started scribbling on their clipboards. And when I told them to fuck off, they always did the opposite and hung around like a bad smell, forcing me into cooperating.

“Maybe this is a bad idea,” I heard Gerard mumble to the nurse, “I should just go.”

Yes, good riddance, halle-fucking-lujah.

“No, I wouldn’t have rang you if it wasn’t essential you be here,” the nurse replied firmly, and it suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks that Gerard didn’t want to be here any more than I wanted him to; he had been brought here, against his will, to see me.

Huh. And here I was thinking he must have actually been missing me and wanting to see me again… God, when would I stop being such a fucking naïve fool?

“What the fuck?” I snapped my head up again so fast I nearly pulled a muscle in my neck. “It’s not essential! As if I fucking need him here…”

What would even give the nurse that impression? I hadn’t even mentioned Gerard’s name the whole time I’d been here. Had she read my goddamn thoughts or something? I felt like my mind had been violated, and I hated that my embedded need for Gerard had somehow caught her attention and brought him here today.

“Frank, you’ve been living in isolation for the last two weeks, refusing to talk to anyone,” the nurse sighed in a condemnatory manner. “Don’t you want to talk to an old friend?”

Oh, I see. They just rang Gerard because I’m being antisocial and they figured they’d bring in a ‘friend’ from the outside and I would want to talk to them… Boy, were they wrong.

I couldn’t control the paranoia I felt that Gerard was judging me, looking down at me and thinking I was just as pathetic as he remembered me. I was just a fucking burden to him now. He thought he’d gotten rid of me when they sent me away, but now he was being forced to come and visit me.

“He’s not my friend.” The words rolled off my tongue like the deadliest of venom, poisoning the atmosphere. My eyes flickered dangerously in Gerard’s direction and I saw him flinch at my sharp words and stare back at me with hurt in his eyes.

I didn’t regret what I’d said and I wasn’t going to take it back anytime soon. It was the truth, and hey, I was supposed to be telling nothing but the truth now, right? Not my fault the truth hurts. Lies and broken promises hurt more though, and I’d lost fucking count of how many promises Gerard had broken to me…

“I’m gonna be right here holding your hand and helping you through it.” “I wouldn’t ever fuck you over and break your heart.” Empty fucking words. Everything he said to me. Fuck him. He’s just as untrustworthy as the rest of them.

“Well, you’re still my best friend,” he croaked, hesitantly stepping forward, daring to invite himself into my room on his own accord.

I glared at him warningly, my expression stony and getting harder by the second, despite the fact that his words had effected my heart massively. It was swelling with love and breaking with betrayal all at the same time. I wanted to fucking cry, but I refused to let him see what he was doing to my emotions.

“Then, where the fuck have you been?” I demanded angrily, looking up at him in desperate confusion.

I wanted to believe him; wanted to believe that I still meant something to him, but I couldn’t, because it made no sense. He certainly hadn’t treated me like I was his ‘best friend’.

He hung his head in shame, knowing full well that he had screwed up and let me down.

“I’m sorry. I tried to come, but my dad didn’t want me seeing you,” he explained feebly, and I just narrowed my eyes at him.

Was that the extent of his explanation? His dad wasn’t fond of the idea, so he did as he was told, like the good little Daddy’s boy that he has always been? How precious. Too bad for him I’d never understand such a respectful father-son relationship. Why did he always choose to obey his dad’s fucking ludicrous rules?

“He said you were making progress in here without me, and I would only make you worse,” he added desperately, upon seeing the disgruntled look on my face, but I only scrunched my face up more at that.

“And you believed that?”

Seriously, that is a fucking blatant lie, and he shouldn’t have taken his dad’s (false) word on it; he should have come here sooner and found out for himself. How would his dad know how I was doing anyway? He hadn’t exactly been in touch the last two weeks. Nobody had. Not even Mikey.

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have listened to him,” he cried guiltily, sighing and taking a few more steps into the room, ignoring the threatening look in my eye and coming closer. “But he was telling me all this shit about your mental health, and I didn’t know what to believe.”

I suddenly realised in that second that the nurse was gone, and this distracted me from my total rage for a moment, making me crane my neck to look round Gerard and search the room with wild eyes. The door to my room was closed and everything: it was just me and Gerard now, completely alone.

Fucking brilliant.

“Your dad is full of shit,” I spat, snapping my eyes back to Gerard and glaring into his soul. “You should have fucking come and spoken to me yourself! But instead, you just fucked off and left me here on my own, like you didn’t give a single fuck about me.”

There was no excuse for his complete lack of contact recently. Nothing he could say would make me feel better about this. I trusted him to be there for me and he fucking wasn’t.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t care,” he denied immediately, looking wounded by my words, even though they were true and he knew it. “Of course I care! I love you, Frank, you know that… I just thought -”

“Don’t you fucking dare say you love me!” I exploded, flying off of the bed and onto my feet so fast I went a little light-headed. I was in a state of disbelief that he had actually just said those three words, after everything he’d put me through. What the fuck was he trying to do to me? “God, you’re more full of shit than your dad!”

He recoiled from my razor-sharp words and the sheer volume I had said them, backing away from me slightly as I took a step closer to him. If he thought he’d seen me lose my temper before, he hadn’t seen anything compared to this. This was what he fucking got for hurting me when I was already bruised and scarred. He was supposed to be the one that helped me, not fucking pushed me overboard without a lifejacket.

“I’m not lying,” he responded weakly, cowering away from me slightly, like he was expecting me to hit him. Well, my fists were clenched and I was definitely thinking about it. “I really do love you,” he repeated boldly, pushing me further over the edge into an abyss of overwhelming emotion. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you… These two weeks have been the longest of my life. I’ve never missed anything as much as I’ve missed you. Not even my own mother.”

How could I believe a word he says anymore? He broke my trust, just like the rest of them, and I would never trust him or anyone ever again.

“Shut the fuck up!” I shouted hysterically, lunging forward with outstretched arms and shoving him backwards, barely able to see through the tears that were now stinging my eyes and falling like ticking bombs. “I hate you! I swear to God, I hate you!”

My fists were grabbing his shirt and I was trying to push him towards the door, wanting to throw him out of it, but he wasn’t going anywhere without a fight.

“Y-you don’t mean that,” he stammered, grabbing my wrists and prizing them away from his shirt. “I know you don’t – you’re just upset.”

Neither of us stopped struggling to overpower the other; I even threw a few punches his way, but he was no longer the weak victim he used to be, and he managed to block them all and hold me off.

“Just fucking – leave me alone!” I finally cracked, giving him one final forceful shove towards the door, before staggering away from him and just sinking to the floor, struggling to catch my breath through the choked sobs. My chest was painfully tight and I was feeling extremely light-headed suddenly.

I knew this horrible dizzy feeling all too well.

The room felt like it was spinning and I had to close my eyes and put my head in my hands to try and make it stop. I knew I needed to get my breathing under control and fast, because my hearing was already becoming distorted. I could distantly hear Gerard’s voice echoing in my head, but he sounded suddenly so far away, and I couldn’t make out what he was saying. The panic was starting to set in now and I could feel myself breathing faster and shallower, on the verge of hyperventilating.

Part of my brain vaguely registered a hand on my back and the fuzzy murmur of Gerard’s voice in my ear, but then it was gone and everything just faded out to black.
♠ ♠ ♠
Ahh, sorry for the delay, I would have updated sooner, but I've been at work all day.

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