You Mean More to Me Than Words Could Ever Say

Elena had offered I stay for dinner but I knew I needed to go back home. My mother left me nasty messages, probably when she was drunk, and I knew if I stayed at the Way’s than I would’ve been fucked. The second I walked in the door, I heard her storming through the hallway from the kitchen. Why was she home? She came at me, slightly stumbling. I raised my eyebrows at her as she gripped my shirt and starting screaming at me, but I wasn’t listening.

Not only is she home when she should be working, but she’s already drunk.

“Mom!” She stopped yelling, but stared me down angrily.

“Why are you home?” I asked, my voice sounding shaky, almost scaring me. She stared at me a few moments, before her face relaxed, and her grip loosened. She took a step back and looked at the floor.

“I got fired.” She said, her voice as quiet as a whisper. I asked why before I could stop myself. She didn’t freak out, but instead answered.

“Started drinking at work, and they said they couldn’t risk it becoming a habit.” I stood there confused. I guess she had drank on her break. But how would people at the store not notice? People at walmart can’t be THAT dumb can they? Suddenly I realized what this meant. We’re gonna be broke practically. Unless I get a job or she finds another one. My mom is so careless and irresponsible. Getting angry, I shoved her back before I could stop. I didn’t think. I just acted.

She reacted quickly and raised the wine glass she had in her hand, hitting it hard on the side of my neck. It shattered but I didn’t feel the pain until the wine poured into the cuts, burning them. Some pieces of glass fell on the floor, and I glanced down only to realize she didn’t have any shoes on. As I felt her banging her fist into my chest, trying to hurt me, I grabbed her wrists urging her to stop. She might hurt her feet.

“Mom. Mom! Stop. There’s glass! Your feet!” But she kept charging at me, again and again. I tried to move from the glass but it was too late as I saw her face go from anger to pain. She looked down, before not being able to stand anymore and starting to fall. I grabbed her and picked her up, bringing her to the couch. She was breathing heavy as I laid her down, looking at her feet. I figured it was best to drive her to the hospital, and not remove any glass in case she bled too much.

“It’s not too bad, but I’m going to take you to the hospital.” I told her.

“No you’re not you son of a bitch. You did this to me so you fix it.” I did this to her?

“I told you to watch out for it.”

“Shut the fuck up, you want to explain this to the people at the hospital? I sure as hell don’t. Take this fucking glass out. And take care your neck too, I don’t need people asking questions.” Instead of arguing with her, I just did as she said.

I went to the kitchen and grabbed paper towels, then rushed to the bathroom. I grabbed a rag and wet it with cold water, got ointment, and a few bandages. I went in the living room and sat down by her feet again, taking out the pieces of glass. She hissed as I did so, but I didn’t stop. The bleeding wasn’t too bad. I washed them with the cold rag and then coated her feet in ointment, before wrapping them up.

“Get me some pain killers!” She yelled.

“Mom, you can’t combine alcohol and medicine.” I told her sternly.

“Then get me a drink. Something strong to knock me out.” Gladly. I poured her some crown and gave it to her. She sat up on the couch with her eyes closed, sipping the drink, distorted in pain. I grabbed all the first aid stuff and headed to the bathroom.

I looked in the mirror and winced at my reflection upon seeing my neck. Blood and wine seeped into the collar of my shirt. As I looked closer, I noticed there was a small shard of glass wedged in my neck among the many scratches. Now that I saw it and I wasn’t distracted by my mom, I was noticing the pain much more. The scratches weren’t bad, they were on the side of my neck and very shallow, but they were bleeding slightly. The spot where there was glass didn’t look too bad either. It wasn’t in very far at all, and I bet if I give it a tap it will fall out. Before I did however, I took a couple pain killers to ease it a bit, and grabbed an ice cube from the kitchen.

I finally built up the courage and placed my index finger and thumb on the small piece of glass. Sure enough, it came right out. Looking at the wound, it had just barely been in there, and could’ve fallen out if I even turned my head. I placed the ice cube on it, numbing the pain more and stopping the bleeding. After doing that I washed my neck with a rag, applied ointment, and bandaged it up.

As I looked in the mirror, I knew I’d be questioned non stop at school tomorrow. Hell, my neck was half mummy. But there was nothing I could do. What was worse was the fact I missed school today, so when I walk in tomorrow with a bandaged neck, it’s going to look suspicious. But who gives a flying fuck.

X~x~X~x~X

I was walking into art, after dealing with shit from Mark the whole day. He told people I tried to slice my neck open and kill myself. Good one, Mark. Never heard that before. But of course people believed him, and I recieved odd looks all day. Whatever, fuck them. Bob and Ray asked what I did but I told them I didn’t want to talk about it. And now, as I walked into art, I made eye contact with Gerard. His eyes moved down to my neck, where I knew he was questioning me with his eyes. He didn’t look weirded out, but instead worried. I sat in my seat awkwardly, avoiding his glance.

“Frank...”

“Don’t.” I spat. But he didn’t listen.

“Frank, what happened to your neck?” I shifted my gaze to his eyes.

“He tried to kill himself, too bad it didn’t work!” Mark yelled at Gerard. But he was unaffected. Gerard looked over at him, rolling his eyes.

“Sheesh, you sure don’t ever shut up do you?” Mark twisted his mouth in an annoyed way.

“Fucking watch it, Way.” He spat. Gerard turned to fully face him.

“Wow, you called me by my last name, I’m so scared. Listen, Mark. Why don’t you watch it, before you get your ass beat. But we all know you’d just enjoy it.” Gerard said, his tone calm just like last time. I was mesmerized by him.

“You’re such a fucking faggot!” Mark yelled. Gerard smirked mischievously at him and winked, before turning around in his seat. Mark was quiet.

How does he do it?

He faced me once more, that smirk still evident.

“So, Frank. What happened?” But I wasn’t listening, my eyes were drawn to his mouth. I was zoning out, forgetting where I was or why.

I wonder what his lips taste like.