Untitled Frerard

I opened my eyes, but it stung so bad I immediately shut them again. From the quick glimse I got of my surroundings, when my eyes were open for merely a second, I had realized I was in the back seat of a car. What happened? Oh God, I was remembering.

At lunch a boy in my class tripped me, causing me to fall, and getting cafeteria food on his shoes. He screamed at me, "You little bitch!" and he told me he was going to kill me after school today. I hadn't many "friends", but there was this one kid, Gerard, who sometimes spoke to me in art class. He's the closest I've got to a friend, although he's probably being nice me only because he's seen me get beaten so severely.

I had never been the toughest kid, and life was rough at home. My mom left when I was really young, and my dad was angry. He started drinking, and he was a violent drunk. He took this anger out on me. He was homophobic and had always thought I was gay, and beat me for it, even though this was untrue. Poorly thought up rumors started that I was a homosexual all the time, and people claimed they saw me making out with other guys, or that I tried to kiss them, or some other bullshit. My Catholic school hated gays, and in no way supported gay rights. The teachers thought the same. They all disliked me for this... even though I was straight.

Now, here I am, in the back seat of a car. I don't know who's in the drivers seat, but I'm too afraid to open my eyes- not because it'll hurt, but because the driver might notice I had woken up, and he was going to kill me. On the other hand, if I don't open my eyes, he'll just take me to the woods and kill me. Either way, I'm going to die. I started to pray.

Hail Mary, full of grace.
Our Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou among women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb,
Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death.
Amen.

Last night, when I was practicing guitar in my garage, or this morning, when I was eating breakfast, or today when I got on the bus to school, or in first class, when a kid ripped open my backpack and threw everything on the floor, I had no idea my life was going to be ending quite soon. My closed eyes started to get misty, but I didn't make a sound. I began to pray again, but this time, a more personalized prayer.

Dear God,
Thank you for putting me on this Earth, and giving me seventeen years of life in this world you created. I am greatly afraid of what is in store for me after this car comes to a stop. I am frightened of being killed. I'm sorry for asking, but could you somehow make it not too painful? Also, I am asking for forgiveness for my sins. Thank you again for giving me a life here on this planet of yours. -Frank Iero

I had thought more and more about the car stopping. I imagined that kid from lunch with a grin on his face that read murder, ripping the door open, and throwing me out onto the ground. He'd then grab me by the arm to get me up. "Useless little fuck. They'll all be glad I'm doing this," He would laugh. I'd be dragged into the woods, and he'd pull out his knife. I could almost feel the way he'll slowly glide it along my neck, while whispering to me "Scared, punk? Don't be, you'll be in hell pretty soon, faggot. When I'm done with you-"

"Hey, you alright? What's wrong?" I heard the car stop and I realized I was crying. I opened my clenched eyes, and I was shocked. "You must be remembering what happened a little while ago. You in pain?"

"N-n-no," I stuttered. I smiled, and began sobbing again. This time, in releif.

"Don't cry, Frankie." He got out of the car and opened my door. "Shit, you've got blood all over you."

"Th-thanks, G-Gerard." I tried to get the words to come out. I had no idea whether to first thank him or to ask what happened. "What- I mean- I- How-" I tried to talk. He started to laugh.

"Sorry. um... You blacked out. After school, that douche started pounding on you. He got his knife out after you were unconscience and I made my way through the crowd and stopped him," Gerard explained to me. He reached into his jacket pocket and took out the knife as evidence. That would've been my murder weapon. There was a short silence. I was still shocked I was alive, and that there was a crowd of people that were going to watch my unconscience body get slaughtered. My eyes started to blur.

"Thank you so much," I said, knowing that wasn't enough to make up for him saving my life. "I-If it weren't for you... I-I'd surely be..." I started sobbing again, not being able to even finish the sentence.

"Shhh," He hugged me. "Don't cry, I wouldn't let that happen to you. You're my best friend," He reassured me. He had to be just saying this to make me stop crying.

"...You don't have to say things to make me stop crying, I just really appreciate how you want me alive," I thanked him.

"It's true. You're a great guy, and these homophobes think you're gay. They're dumbasses. They cant even come up with a better, more believable rumor. And I do consider you my best friend, Frank. Do you ever see me at lunch, or anywhere else with a huge group of people, or a small group of people, or one person... or even there at all?"

"No... actually, now that I think of it, I never see you anywhere other than in class, and in the hallways going to class. Where are you all the time" He laughed.

"At lunch, I grab some food I packed, and I leave. I walk to the bus stop and eat there, in peace. I was just sick of these people who would always find a way to get near me and throw things at me. That was freshman year. I didn't want four years of that, so I left. I don't just deal with shit, and neither should you. You're better than them," He said honestly. He really believed I was better than the guys doing this to me. I've never heard anyone say this to me before. I smiled at my best friend.

"Thanks, Gee." He laughed.

"A nickname. This must be what friendship is," he joked and I couldn't help but laugh with him.

"So... where were you driving me, anyways?" I asked, curious to where I was actually being taken to.

"My place. Where else?" He replied. I laughed, because I felt like an idiot. He got back in the car, and asked again if I was okay. I remembered I hadn't answered him before, because of shock that I'd actually stay alive another night. I promised him I was, even though there was a throbbing in my side and my wrist hurt like hell. He continued driving to a place much farther away than what would seem normal distance from the school.

"Gerard?" I questioned him.

"Yeah" he responded, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

"How far away do you live from school? I mean this seems far enough for you to go to another school."

"Oh. I... uh... I changed schools right before high school," He answered, not seeming to want to share much more.