Born and Broken Every Single Time.

“Why’s there no vegetarian food?” I yawned as I looked in the fridge. I’d decided to go home due to my own conclusions that although the Ways welcomed me it was unfair to stay because of my own trouble at home. I continued taking my pills but still lacked a steady flow of food, which only worsened, upon my return home. I avoided my dad like the plague, ignoring any attempt he made to talk, not one of them containing an attempt of an apology.

“You want food? You go buy food,” my mum casually replied as she ironed one of her shirts.

“I’m not well,” I groaned. It was Monday and I wasn’t at school again. My black eye was still pretty visible and on the days I had stepped out to town with Mikey it had been highly remarked on.

“Tough ain’t it?” she smiled, casually ignoring my hints for her to go. They complained that I didn’t eat, which I still stand by the statement is not my fault – but then when hunger strikes which is in fact a rarity they have no food.

“Fine whatever.” I muttered my complaints under my breath as I dragged myself back upstairs and slumping back into bed. I looked for a few moments around my room from where I sat. All the remains of my belongings still lay scattered across the room, although I had tried to tidy them. It became so disheartening with every piece I picked up, thinking of how my room used to look and casting my mind back to the night it was wrecked and eventually I always stopped.

I pulled the cover over my head and willed sleep to take over, and after a few further disheartened thoughts it did just that.

-

“Frank,” I heard a random voice pull me sharply from my sleep as I was shaken. “Wake up man.”

“Huh?” I squinted my eyes as the light attack them upon moving the quilt as a shield. I saw Mikey standing over me, and Gerard by the door looking around at the carnage surrounding.

“So we thought we’d just come round and see how you are, cause you weren’t at school-“

“Mikey thought,” Gerard interrupted harshly.

“Yeah well I thought. Cola?”

“Sure man, thanks.” I watched as Mikey rummaged through his bag as he sat on the edge of my bed then handed me the cola.

He spun into one of his random moments where he’d speak, only searching for a suitable noise at the appropriate moments to make him believe I was listening fully. As he spoke I watched Gerard walk over and slump in the recliner I had, spinning randomly around through what appeared to be boredom a lack of want to be here.

When I tried to take a drink I realised there was something wrong. I held it with both hands, like I usually did through my own weakness but still the shaking was so notable I couldn’t hold it properly. Mikey hadn’t really noticed but I saw Gerard stop spinning out the corner of my eye and sit up straight, now watching me like a hawk. I decided to place it on the bedside table although my attempts to make it look normal were greatly unsuccessful.

“Oh by the way,” Mikey finally directed a comment to me properly. “You said you had that album you’d lend me?”

“Oh, yeah,” I muttered as I forced myself to stand up. The moment my feet touched the ground I knew it wasn’t going to work out. The album was in a drawer by where Gerard sat and as soon as I took a step in that direction I felt my legs give way and I crashed onto the floor.

“Oh my god, Frank are you okay?” I heard Mikeys concern wash over me as the room blurred and faded.

“Does he look okay? Idiot,” Gerard muttered

I heard what was going on faintly as I felt myself drift slowly into an unconscious state. When I woke up I found myself back in my own bed and everyone sitting watching me. Mikey sat on the end of my bed beside my mother and Gerard was back at the chair. They all looked so relieved as I forced myself to sit upright.

“What happened?” I muttered as I grew conscious of the staring.

“You had another bad turn sugar,” my mother replied calmly. “But worse than usual. Are you okay now?”

“Oh, yeah I’m fine,” I smiled faintly. I saw Mikey and Gerard share a look questioning why they hadn’t heard about these ‘turns’ before. I faint, I shake, I vomit, I can’t write – it varies. But all that is guaranteed is that there is always someone there to tell me I faked it.

“Of course he’s fine,” I heard my dad speak as he walked into my room. “School just called and said they want him out, his nonsense has paid off.”

“What?” my mum spoke for everyone as she looked round in shock at his statement.

“No,” I interrupted. “I sorted this out, she said it was fine.”

“Well apparently not you little dick, looks like you’ve let us down again. How proud you make us, come on love,” he snapped. My mum followed his instruction, leaving me with the Ways.

I clenched my fists as I muttered under my breath. I hated school, but I hated her. Mrs. Clarkson was a teacher I’d never liked and had been promoted to a place of power, not that she was suitable for it. She’d told me if a doctor could justify my illness then it wouldn’t come to this, and I did – I took in a note from the doctor from my appointment explaining everything. I resented the fact that she put downers on my home life as well, sending out letters telling my ‘rents I was failing subjects I was excelling in just to annoy everyone and constantly phoning with problems that had already been cleared up. I was known to talk back to her. Honestly, if I don’t accept abuse from people out of school why should it be any different from her? It shouldn’t, and thus by the fact I wouldn’t let it I was deemed to be cheeky where as she was just doing her job.

“So…” Mikey continued awkwardly. “I think we’ll go, one of us’ll come round tomorrow if you want?”

“Cool man,” I forced a smile. “Thanks for coming round.”

Mikey smiled as he picked up his bag and walked out. Gerard waited until he was downstairs before even moving. He crouched down beside me and spoke gently.

“Frank, please just try eat.”

Before I could make my usual protests he pulled himself up and lightly kissed my forehead before walking out to join his brother. I lay back down, pulling the cover over my head and just remained there, thinking.