Sequel: Lost in Paradise ›
Can I See You Now?
This is it
~Frank's POV~
"Frank, please, y-you can't stay in there forever, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I lied, making sure that my voice didn't sound shaky.
I always lied.
Non of what had coming out of my mouth lately has been true.
I haven't left my room since Gerard's mum told me about what happened, I also moved my bed across my room to block the door. I'm not planning on leaving this room any time soon.
I looked at the computer across my room. I felt tears well in my eyes again. I lied down on the bed I was sitting on and clutched the pillow close to my chest, sobbing into it. Everything literally reminded me of either him or dad. How can dad be so fucking selfish? Why do I feel like all of this is my fault? I sobbed harder as I thought of it more.
It is my fault.
If it hadn't been for those dumb messages non of this would have happened. I felt my sadness evolve into rage. I had to get involved in Gerard's life, right? If i just stopped thinking about it, maybe he'd still be fucking alive! I reached for a book beside me and threw it as hard as i could against the window. The window didn't fall apart, but the book did. I got up and tugged my hair. I was stressed, so stressed. After a bit I found myself walking around in circles, panting with anger. I slammed my fist in the nearest item, which happened to be the mirror hanging beside the window. It shattered into pieces.
I kept my fist there for a second, pushing it further in, and watching the blood flow out of my knuckles. I groaned quietly in pain, furrowing my eyebrows. I needed to end this, for good.
I pulled my fist away from the mirror, there were still a few glass shreds in my skin. I didn't bother taking them out. Instead, I reached for some of the broken glass shreds on the floor. I stared at it for a second, then I lifted up my arm and turned it around, staring at my wrist. I looked to my other hand, which was holding the broken piece of the mirror; then back at my wrist. Do I really want to do this?
Yes I do.
--
I was shaking, a sobbing mess. I haven't done anything yet. I was just crying, staring at the broken piece of glass. I finally reached for it, not hesitating a second before stabbing it right to my wrist. I pinched closed my eyes, groaning loudly in pain as i felt the glass cut right through my skin and through my veins. I then opened my eyes, my mouth opening along with it, panting. I closed my mouth, pulling the piece of glass out. I gritted my teeth, not wanting to make more noise. I realized what I had done. And I'm about to do it again. I plunged the piece of sharp glass right into my other wrist, screaming inside, but just whimpering instead. I twisted it around, which caused me to nearly scream. I instead grabbed the pillow as fast as I could and bit it hardly, screaming into it. I pulled the glass out. Crying in both pain and angst. I now made a few shallow cuts over my skin, I wanted to make sure this would work. I found my vision getting blurry, and my head hurting. This is it.
"Frank, please, y-you can't stay in there forever, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I lied, making sure that my voice didn't sound shaky.
I always lied.
Non of what had coming out of my mouth lately has been true.
I haven't left my room since Gerard's mum told me about what happened, I also moved my bed across my room to block the door. I'm not planning on leaving this room any time soon.
I looked at the computer across my room. I felt tears well in my eyes again. I lied down on the bed I was sitting on and clutched the pillow close to my chest, sobbing into it. Everything literally reminded me of either him or dad. How can dad be so fucking selfish? Why do I feel like all of this is my fault? I sobbed harder as I thought of it more.
It is my fault.
If it hadn't been for those dumb messages non of this would have happened. I felt my sadness evolve into rage. I had to get involved in Gerard's life, right? If i just stopped thinking about it, maybe he'd still be fucking alive! I reached for a book beside me and threw it as hard as i could against the window. The window didn't fall apart, but the book did. I got up and tugged my hair. I was stressed, so stressed. After a bit I found myself walking around in circles, panting with anger. I slammed my fist in the nearest item, which happened to be the mirror hanging beside the window. It shattered into pieces.
I kept my fist there for a second, pushing it further in, and watching the blood flow out of my knuckles. I groaned quietly in pain, furrowing my eyebrows. I needed to end this, for good.
I pulled my fist away from the mirror, there were still a few glass shreds in my skin. I didn't bother taking them out. Instead, I reached for some of the broken glass shreds on the floor. I stared at it for a second, then I lifted up my arm and turned it around, staring at my wrist. I looked to my other hand, which was holding the broken piece of the mirror; then back at my wrist. Do I really want to do this?
Yes I do.
--
I was shaking, a sobbing mess. I haven't done anything yet. I was just crying, staring at the broken piece of glass. I finally reached for it, not hesitating a second before stabbing it right to my wrist. I pinched closed my eyes, groaning loudly in pain as i felt the glass cut right through my skin and through my veins. I then opened my eyes, my mouth opening along with it, panting. I closed my mouth, pulling the piece of glass out. I gritted my teeth, not wanting to make more noise. I realized what I had done. And I'm about to do it again. I plunged the piece of sharp glass right into my other wrist, screaming inside, but just whimpering instead. I twisted it around, which caused me to nearly scream. I instead grabbed the pillow as fast as I could and bit it hardly, screaming into it. I pulled the glass out. Crying in both pain and angst. I now made a few shallow cuts over my skin, I wanted to make sure this would work. I found my vision getting blurry, and my head hurting. This is it.