Lock the Door

Frank P.O.V
Gerard remembered what house I came out of. Shit. He cornered me at the end of school, asking if I wanted a lift. I said yes, but only because of the looks some idiots were giving me. Not because I wanted to talk to him again or anything like that.

Gerard’s brother was called Mikey, it turned out. And Mikey also had awesome taste in music. It was pretty fun to hear them bickering back and forth about which song was better and was the bass on this album improved from the one before. Mikey apparently played bass.
“Oh, yeah Frank, Ray was telling me how he liked the Misfits too, he never knew you liked them!” I snapped my head around, his voice loud ‘cuz of the stereo. Then when I realized what he’d said he surprised me out of silence.
“What!?”
The bastard actually smirked.
“You heard me. Your friends like the Misfits too, you just apparently never bothered to find that out.”
Fuck him. What does he know? Its not like I havent talked to Ray and Bob. I’ve just been a bit too busy being hit and hurt to ask them about things that are not obvious. Too busy making sure my sleeves were long enough to hide my scars. And I couldn’t just tell them about the cd’s and posters in my room. They would want to come see, and I could never let anyone in. Never. I had to keep them all out. Even the fucking sassy Gerard. I especially had to lock him out. I turned away from his smirk, watching it fade out of the corner of my eye. Fuck him. It wasn’t his business. It was cool of him to tell me, but that couldn’t make me talk too much more.
“Gerard! that was pretty uncalled for!”
I looked up. Mikey was glaring at Gerard. Gerard’s face fell.
“yeah I guess… Mikey’s right. I’m sorry. That was stupid.” His eyes searched for mine desperately in the windshield mirror. I turned away and shrugged. We were almost at our street anyway. My nerves hummed, I couldn’t wait to get out of this car.

The moment the car stopped I muttered a thanks and jumped the garden wall so I wouldn’t have to slow down. It might give Gerard time to try to talk to me again. I got inside, my nose scrunching up at the all too familiar smell of crack. I sighed. My day dealing with people was over but my time dealing with her wasn’t. She was sitting on the couch, smoking and laughing this stupid pot laugh. Her hair was greasy and tangled, her bathrobe limp and stained. Endless bottles covered pretty much every surface in the living room. God I hated my mother.

She stared at me and giggled again.
“Hehehe. My lo-ovely little darling is back, are you gonna, gonna give me a kiss? haheeheha”
Her sing-song voice dribbled lazily out of her mouth as she leaned forward, making a sloppy kiss-kiss motion. Drool landed on the floor and she giggled again. Then she started crying.
“Not kissing me! Bad boy, stupid boy! leaving me, your own, own mother!”
she sort of fell over, but then just picked up a glass bottle and began toying with it. She hiccupped and began giggling again.
“Catch this little fucking bo-oy!”
I Tried to dodge, but her throw was damn accurate for a fucking drugged up drunk having emotional highs. It hit my arm and then shattered on the floor at my feet as I staggered back into the wall behind me. Mom began to get angry. Her face going purplish and broken veins showing up. She’d once been beautiful. but now that and her kind, smiling expressions had been faded away by time and drugs. Its been 8 bitter years that I’ve been seeing the face she shows me now. The one that switched between anger, hurt and disappointment, but that always flickered over madness. I slid down the wall. Not point trying to stop the inevitable. I might be able to overpower her, but she had the heavy glass bottle and didn’t care if she hurt me, where as I couldn’t hurt her. She used to be my mom, even if she wasn’t anymore. The first hit hurt the most, and I think I might have screamed. But that was okay, ‘cuz everything felt fuzzier after that and I couldn’t bring myself to care when she hit me with the bottle again. Even though it was jagged and bit deep into my skin.
“You fucking demon! Where’s my son? Stupid son! I need to punish him!”
You always forgets who I am.
Hit.
“Fucking evil son of a bitch! You ruined my life!”
You said you were so happy I was born.
Hit.
“DIE just fucking die! I hate you! Fucking fag!”
I love you.
Hit.
“Fucking worthless pig! Waste of fucking space is what you are!”
No I’m not, mom.
Hit.
“Stupid, Fucking-”
The doorbell rings. Mom’s face changes into a calm mask and she puts the bottle down. I stay slumped against the living room wall. Lots of things hurt. I feel bad for the wall. It has lots of my blood on it.
“We’re Frank’s friends from school. Is he in?”
Fuck, Gerard!?
“Yeah, we wanted to do homework with him!”
Mikey too. Can’t let them in, can’t let them see.
“He’s not feeling very well. I’m afraid you’ll have to talk to him a school tomorrow”
They’re trying to push past her. Fuck. They can see me where I am now.
“please we’ll just be really quick, we promise we won’t disturb him!”
I try to stand up, telling myself its not as bad as its feels. I edge toward the doorway, I just have to make it to the stairs. My foot taps impatiently, waiting for my body to catch up. Shit, stop it foot!
but its too late, the motion caught Gerard’s eye and he stares at me in shock. I must look like shit, but now’s not the time to worry about that. I have to get away. I have to shut them out. I begin to run, ignoring the corner of my brain that is screaming. As long as no one sees it will be okay. Mom won’t be hurt.
“Frank!”
I keep climbing the stairs as fast as I can
“Stop! You’re hurt!”
I see him push past mom out of the corner of my eye, but I’m almost at my room. I see Mikey say something disgustedly to my mom as he follows Gerard up the stairs. I shut and lock the door to my room. Beyond the heavy footsteps I hear my mom crying.
“Frank!”
There’s pounding on the door.
“FRANK! Please!”
I really do love her. She was a great mom, its not her fault.
“Frank, open up, come on.”
I don’t know which voice is which anymore. My head kind of hurts. So does my chest. I think I’m crying.
“Mikey, call 911, he was hurt!”
Or I might be screaming. Wait, that might be someone else. I’m not very sure of anything anymore.
“Just hold on Frank okay? Please don’t die on me!”
That voice sounds sad. I wonder why, after all I'm worthless. There’s a surprising amount of red, I wonder where it came from? Everything is soaked in the dye. There are more footsteps on the stairs.
“MIKEY! Help me open the door!”
What door? Everything has disappeared. It’s all black and red. There’s a crash, and I feel as if thunder shakes my bones.
“Oh god, Oh Frank! Please be alive!”
Of course I’m alive, silly. Its you who’re in trouble. You’re floating away and its getting harder to hear your voice.

For a while there’s sirens and shit. Then I hear one last thing.
“I love you, Frank. Please don’t leave.”