From Sunsets to Monroeville

Frank looked down at the carpet of the living room and frowned at the color. It was pink. Fucking pink? Why pink? It could have been tan, like Allison's was. But no, of course his house had to have the odd carpet. On the second level is where his mother sat at the dining room table, three Coors lights on the table. Her blond hair hung loosely around her drained face and her brown eyes looked dull. She giggled drunkenly.

"How was," she hiccups. "School?" She asked and giggled again.

Frank sighed and dropped his bag on the floor by the stairs, slowly approaching his mother. He picked up the empty bottles.

"How many of these have you had today?" He asked.

"Enough babe. Frank, oh my gosh, you don't have my eyes!" She hiccups again.

"Yours change color mom."

"Oh yeah," she chuckled drunkenly.

"Let's get you upstairs Mom."

"Sure Frank," she stuttered. "You're such a," another hiccup, “Good boy."

Frank shrugged and just led her from the dining room to the stairs, the both of them tumbling around a bit. She struggled to walk alone, so she mainly held onto Frank and the stairwell. At the beginning of the hall was her room where Frank sat her down atop her bed.

"I'm sorry..." She mumbled, finally realizing what was going on. She lay down on her bed, her eyes drifting a couple times until she finally passed out.

Frank snorted and shook his head, his feet padding lightly on the carpet. He closed the door to her room behind him and skipped down the stairs to fetch for his bag, not really wanting to elaborate on what his mother had just said.

Honestly, if she were really sorry – why would she continue?

Bag strap in hand, he froze when the door clicked to let you know it was unlocked, and the door flew open. Mr. Iero stepped inside, his eyes lighting up as he connected with Frank’s, slamming the door behind him.

"Oh look, the little homo is home.”

Frank gulped, watching his father as he flicked off his shoes and threw down his jacket. Mr. Iero was a little taller than Frank (honestly, who isn’t?), with dark brown hair and a murky green for an eye color. His face had the permanent expression of stone, cold and hard, his beady eyes staring down at everything.

My how Frank despised his father, Mr. Iero felt since he was a firefighter, he was bigger and better than every single person he’d ever encountered. Like he could take on bears and huge mountains, like nothing could take him down. And beer? Psh, that was his air and his life, always being consumed.

But all Mr. Iero was, was just a foolish little boy, in a huge man's body. Frank gave him a dirty look and continued on up the stairs. He needed to get away, now.

"Hey, I'm talking to you, ya’ lil’ faggot! You need to learn some fuckin’ respect," he yelled, his Jersey accent coming out, and chased after him. But Frank was already up the stairs and heading towards his room, when his father came and smacked him in the head.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Frank turned around to face him, clenching his jaw. He refused to reply; it would just escalate into a bigger fight. And that was all his father wanted anyway. Opinionated with a big ego, he always took up the opportunity to show someone how much bigger than them he was. But Frank always wondered, why wouldn't he let him just leave? Isn't that what he wanted, since he didn't like him all that much?

Mr. Iero smacked him on the side of the head again, “I think you need to answer me ya’ lil’ bitch! Where do you think you're going?" He repeated.

Anger boiled inside of Frank, causing him to snap back with, “Away from you.”

Before Frank could blink, Mr. Iero had grabbed him by his collar, causing him to let go of his bag. He wrenched him in the opposite direction, towards the stairs and threw him right down them. Frank flew, his hands soared out in front of him to stop his fall, but they just buckled underneath him.

Frank, after what seemed like forever, landed at the bottom in a crumpled heap and groaned, his eyes leaking in tears at the pain. Everything hurt, from his face, to his arms and legs, to his torso. He groaned and turned over, the soft carpet coming in contact with his face. But he saw a drop of blood fall on it, and knew he’d scraped his face.

He heard a thundering sound, and before long he was being snatched up again, his father’s strong grip on his shirt again. He dragged him over to the basement door and continued taking him down, Frank’s body trailing along like a child holding a blanket.

He let out another groan, causing his father to yell, “Shut up!”

Frank pressed his lips together tightly, afraid of what would happen if he let another peep out. When they finally came to the bottom, Mr. Iero threw him down one last time and tsked at him, leaning down low, close to his face.

“You’re such a…” He said, thinking of the words. “Failure. Yeah, that’s it – you’re a fuckin’ failure. Like what the fuck do you do with your life, eh? You do nothing but mooch off of your mother, off of our hard work and me. All you do is play that pansy guitar of yours and talk to that girlfriend of yours.”

“Shh…shh,” Frank stuttered, his eyes fighting to keep open.

“Shh, shh,” Mr. Iero mocked in a girl voice. “Oh shut up, you don’t have enough fuckin’ guts to talk back. I could sit here and bad mouth your fuckin’ girl and you wouldn’t even be man enough to fight back. Like for instance, she’s too much of a hot lil’ ass for your prepubescent self…she probably doesn’t even fuckin love you. Probably lies, I mean everyone else does. No one loves a faggot.”

“Sh…” Frank tried again, cracking his eye open to see his response. It was getting harder to breathe than anything else. “Sh-shut the fuck up.”

But Mr. Iero just stood up and let out a hearty laugh, bending down to look at Frank once more, “That the best you got?” He hissed.

Frank tried to gulp, but the pain all over was becoming unbearable. His throat tightened up, his stomach felt like it was in pieces. He could feel the bruises forming all over him, and both of his arms felt sprained.

“Fuckin’ pathetic,” his father snapped, and pulled Frank up to face him. He laid one swift smack on his face, and then another, and then one turned into a punch before he threw him down.

“I think you need to be treated the way you used to,” he said suddenly, and patted his pockets.

Frank’s eyes got huge, it clicking in the back of his mind. His father was going to do what he used to do, something he liked to call ‘burning’. Before he could give any other thought to it, his father had snapped ‘don’t move’ and was up the stairs, probably trying to find a lighter.

Frank groaned again in pain. He still had the scars from the last burning his father gave him. He could hear his father shuffling around for that lighter, which surprised Frank cause he usually had one in his pocket, and his mom’s screams. There was loud crash and more stomping.

Realizing he had to escape before he even found it, he scrambled to get up. But his legs gave out, and he fell again. He crawled towards the backdoor as quickly as he could, and held onto the handle as he stood up. He pictured the happy, peacefulness going on across the street and threw the door open.

The cool, brisk air hit his face all at once, and Frank was glad he still had his hoodie on. Blood seeped out of the corner of his mouth, but he just ignored it and wiped it away. He staggered threw the doorway and outside, hobbling through the small backyard to the steps that led to the side yard.

Another scream sounded out of his house, but he pushed onward, fumbling with the lock on the gate. When he finally got it open, he ran through his side yard and into the back of the complex. Dragging his useless feet along, he finally made it to the other side and tripped, landing on the fresh green grass that was Allison’s side yard.

Tears crept out of the corners of his eyes, glad that he’d made it that far. But he knew he couldn’t just stop there, and struggled to get up again. He coughed and spat, the blood evident in it as it flew across the yard. He approached the fence and snapped the lock open, stumbling down the stairs as it clicked behind him.

Finding a couple of small rocks, he gained enough strength to toss them at the window in the back of the house. The window to the room he knew Allison was always in at her house, sitting in that same chair. The shades moved slowly and Frank hobbled over to the back door, knowing that any minute she’d throw it open and embrace him.

Soon enough, the lights came on and the binds shook open.

Allison appeared, in black slacks and a white tank top. Bugs Bunny slippers were on her feet and her hair in a loose ponytail. Frank smiled slightly, but then the pain in his face came back and he winced. She opened the door.

"Lovey!" She exclaimed. "My mom's not here but I kind of told her everything and she said you could always stay until your Dad leaves, anytime…" She rambled.

Frank grunted in response and stumbled inside, Allison closing the door behind him and put back on the lock. She closed the blinds and turned, hugging Frank close.

He sort of sank into her arms, but kept his head up so he wouldn’t get any blood or anything on her. Tears came to his eyes as he realized his situation, yet again, and just held her tight. Allison rubbed small circles into his back, pecking his neck and snuggling into him.

“Lemme get a look at you,” she ordered, pulling away from him. She onced him over, her eyes never changing expression and touched his cheek lightly, probably next to where he was cut. “Babe…”

Frank tried to give her a small smile, but that turned into a grimace and soon broke into a sob.

“Oh Frankie,” she muttered softly in his ear, pulling him close to her again. She slid her arms around his body tightly, but not too tight as to hurt him.

“So, wanna tell me what happened?”

"The usual bullshit. Trash talk, smack me around, and punch me too, like the asshole he is. Oh, and I don't know…also decided he needed to throw me down the stairs. He tried to...you know, but I got out before then," he cried and buried his head in her shoulder.

"Oh..." She murmured and sat him down on the chair, pressing a light kiss to his cheek, "Let me get you some ice and clean you up a bit, yah?"

Allison began to walk towards the stairs the stairs but then Frank called out her name.

“Yeah?”

"Thank you," he whispered softly.