Seventy Times Seven

Stupid fucking Frank Iero. Ten dollars an hour, I reminded myself repeatedly. It wasnt worth it though, and I knew it. But for some reason I never quit.

I got up slowly and pulled my hair back, being careful not to touch my face. Then leaned against the wall, my arms crossed. How the hell could he do this? He's always said things, like, telling me how I was gonna die, and calling me a bitch and stuff... I mean, I don't really care, I normally said stuff back. But hit me? He never hit me... For some reason it kind of scared me. If he hit me once, he probably wouldnt care if he did it again. And I don't know why he hates me. So there isnt anything I can do about it.

Ok so yea that is kind of scary.

My face was still throbbing. I walked to the freshly cleaned bathroom and looked in the mirror. Sure enough, the area around my left cheek bone, right below my eye, was turning a light purple, and the rest of the area around it was bright red, indicating that it would soon bruise too.

I sighed and went back to the kitchen. I cleaned up the glass, finished the dishwasher, and wiped down the sink. Then picked up some of the stuff that I would've vacuumed in the rooms that had carpet, and swept the ones that had linoleum or tile, swearing that next time I'd have to do a good job of moping and vacuuming.

Franks POV

I walked out the door, Gerard following me slowly.

"Dude what the hell'd you do to her? She looks like shit!"

She always looks like that, I mumbled under my breath. "I already told you, she was being stupid," I replied, getting into the drivers side as Gerard got in the passengers.

"Yea but you've never hit her. What'd she do that was so bad?" he pressed.

I thought about the answer, and about how stupid it would be. So I left it at, "I fucking told you, she was being stupid!"

We drove to Ray's house in silence. I could tell it bothered Gee a lot. "Why does it bother you so much? It's not that big a deal..."

He scoffed, "You fucking hit her Frank! You punched her! In the face! I mean...saying shit to her is one thing..but-"

"Gerard! Yea! I punched her, so what?! People get punched everyday!"

He didnt say anything as we pulled up to Ray's house. He greeted us at the door, "Hey guys, whats up?"

"Nothing," I said sharply, looking over at Gerard.

"Dude ok, you know that chick from school? Chelsea Manson?" Gerard said, which kind of made me mad.

He smirked as we walked in the house, "Yea, doesnt Frank like, hate her?"

"Yes.." I replied.

"Well, he just fucking punched her in the face!" Gerard said, Ray looked at me in shock.

"What the hell... why?!"

"Oh my god you guys! What is it with you! I punched her, oh my freaking god how surprising! You even said, I hate her!!" I protested. "People get punched all the freaking time."

"Yea but Frank, why do you hate her?!" Ray replied after rolling his eyes. "I think she's kinda cool, I never talk to her, but I don't see a reason to hate her!" he said, he and Gerard taking a seat on the couch.

I paced back in forth in front of them. Fuming because I couldn't exactly think of an answer. "Because she's..she's..just so.." I was starting to get pissed. God I fucking hate her! "She's just...stupid!"

"You hate her because she's stupid.."

"You know, you arent exactly, 'smart' either.."

"Shut the fuck up you guys!" I yelled, severely irritated. "I punched her. Big fucking deal. I'd do it again if I felt like it!"

I glared as they looked at each other, then shook their heads in disappointment.

The Next Day at School. Chelsea's POV

So keep your blood in your head, and your feet on the ground...

"Stupid thursdays," I muttered under my breath as I pulled into the school parking lot. The only spots left were in the back, but I didn't mind. I pulled in and killed the engine. I pulled down the mirror, so that I could look at my bruise. I had gone to the store to buy some cheap make-up that I could put over it until it went away. Fortunately though, it remained unnoticable from underneath the layers of make up. I tucked it in my bag in case I needed it inbetween classes.

The cold November breeze was horrid. My nose was numb before I got to the doors, and my arms wrapped around me in my thin jacket. I walked to the Sophomore locker section and shuffled toward locker 080. Thankfully, they assigned lockers by last name, so Frank was far away.

I couldn't help but look down the never ending wall of lockers to see if he was there though. There he was, standing with some friends, one of them his friend from yesterday. He wasnt saying anything, kind of just watching everyone else talk.

He looked over at me, and I quickly looked back down at my backpack, letting my hair fall over my face. Which was kind of weird. I guess I had never thought he would hit me, and now I was kind of scared of him...agh I hate that.

I felt him breeze by me and spin me so my back was against the lockers. "Hey bitch. Hows your face?"

"Fine," I said quietly, hoping he would go away.

He stopped. It kinda surprised us both.

I turned back around to my locker, but he quickly spun me back, shoving my forhead back and hitting my head against the other lockers.

I cringed, there must be a bruise there too from yesterday. I started shaking from the familiarity, scared of what he was going to do next. Then I realized he was just looking at my face. "Doesnt look to bad to me..." he muttered, letting go.

"I put make up on it," I mumbled, then quickly went back to my locker. I continued to empty my backpack, listening for when he would leave. Hoping it would be soon...

"What the hells up with you Chelsea? I've never seen you so..quiet," he said, sounding kind of irritated.

I didn't say anything, I wasnt really sure what to say.

"Chelsea!" He spun me around again and shoved me up against the lockers, my head hitting them yet another time, and his hands pinning me again at the shoulders, "What the hell is wrong with-"

The similaritys got to me. "Nothing Frank I'm sorry please!" I yelled, putting my hands over my face and turning my head away, so if he hit me again it wouldnt hurt as bad.

I shook (almost violently!) beneath his strong arms. My muscles tensed up, knowing what came next yesterday. Even though I, myself, didn't expect him to hit me again, I was still scared.

Stealing a glance, he had a straight face. I couldnt read what he was thinking. But he gently let me go, and left.