Born and Broken Every Single Time.

“Oh my god,” Mikey gasped as I finished telling him what had happened. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll survive.” I painfully forced a smile to ease Mikeys concern. I felt bad enough burdening him with my problems anyway. I’m sure he had better things to worry about. “Is it okay if I just head to bed now?”

“Oh sure,” Mikey smiled, his voice still tainted with concern. “It’s been a pretty lame day, it’s cool with me.”

I patted him on the back as a thanks before I set up my usual camp at Mikeys – a mattress on the floor – and pulled the cover over my head, curling up tight and willing my pending sleep to make everything better.

-

“Frank,” Mikey whispered as he gently shook me from my slumber. “Dude I’m going to school. I told my ‘rents just to leave you so don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks,” I smiled weakly as my eyes were pained by the influx of light.

I squinted my eyes and watched as Mikey picked up his bag and left the room, heading out to school and leaving me here. I felt my stomach lurch as it rumbled, telling me I should eat. It was like my stomach and brain weren’t working together. My stomach screamed it’s hunger but my brain told me I was fine. I didn’t eat unless physically made to, but the thing that I found strangest is that I was fine. It didn’t affect me. That’s why I wished people would back off – if it was a problem it would have obvious negative effects, but it didn’t.

I looked up as the door slowly creaked open. I closed my eyes and pretended I was sleeping, not even sure of who was there.

“Frank,” I heard Gerards voice utter quietly. I could hear him walk over and feel him crouching down. “I heard you talk to Mikey like two minutes ago, don’t ignore me dude.”

I resigned myself to the fact he wouldn’t let me be so slowly opened my eyes to be met with him sitting cross-legged beside me.

“I kind of heard you telling Mikey what happened last night,” he began, tilting his head to look at me as I forced myself to sit up. “What does he think you’re lying about?”

He spoke so genuinely, so full of concern. Most people wouldn’t have the confidence to come straight out and ask, others may have gotten the sharper end of my tongue for their nosiness or inconsideration. I felt he was neither being nosey or inconsiderate, he just cared. He wanted to listen, which is what I’d have killed for so many times.

“He thinks I’m faking being ill,” I sighed. It sounded so stupid that at my age it was a matter of truancy, or thinking it was truancy.

“Well what’s actually wrong with you?”

“I have no energy, ever. I can’t just say that though because they’d say it’s my own fault,” I paused to think what else to say. I couldn’t think of anything to redeem myself, it was sheer lack of energy. The problem with the statement is it didn’t demonstrate the full extent – it was beyond a mere lack of energy, some days I could barely move. No one cared, it was laziness to them.

“If you don’t eat that’s what happens,” he sighed. As if I didn’t know that, but I felt fine in myself – I didn’t need it. I looked fine, I felt fine, I was fine, just a little tired – it happens.

“Look, when I do eat, I’m sick,” I shuddered. It was true. I could manage a small portion but go slightly over that and I was done for. “So that can’t be good.”

“Look,” his voice quietened further. “Please go to the doctor today, I’ll take you. Just go see.”

“No.” There wasn’t an ounce of consideration before my answer.

“If there’s nothing wrong, then he’ll tell you there’s nothing wrong. The only reason not to go is that you know I’m right.”

“No,” I sighed. I’ve already had something clinical named, I did not want anything else. Not that there is a condition for ‘I’m not hungry’. I get told I’m anorexic or bulimic – but I’m not, because this is not my choice, this is naturally what’s happening.

“Please,” he said as he squeezed my hand in his gently. “Frank it’s unhealthy, you’re going to screw yourself up really bad.”

“Fine,” I agreed much to my own inner protests, finding myself unable to say no to the look he threw me. “But can you please come with me?”

Gerards smile said all I needed to know. He would come, make sure I was okay. He knew it was a lot for me to consider this within myself, that I was doing this down to his persuasion. As Gerard nipped downstairs to call in and make sure there was a space for me to be seen, I got myself ready. I threw on the clothes I’d packed and forced myself to look in the mirror. I looked notably better now the blood had been cleaned up, but my left eye was surrounded by a nice shade of purple, and my bet was that wasn’t the worse the bruise would be.

Gerard called a cab, which turned up with little delay and our journey was fairly speedy although filled with a notable awkward silence. I offered to pay but Gerard ignored me and paid the driver with a tip and led the way into the doctors’ surgery.
I never liked the smell of this place, even since I was a kid it never agreed with me. It was kind of like rubber gloves, but not if that made sense. The walls were a dingy grey and the floor white, but not gleaming, as it presumably was when it was first laid.

We headed into the room to be met with the silent stares of all other patients. I fidgeted with my fingers, twiddling and flicking them as patient by patient went in. I had a weird feeling in my stomach as the room slowly emptied, butterflies but worse.

”Mr. Iero? The Doctor will see you now.”