Flea Bite

I'm going to tell my boyfriend, rings in my ears a thousand times. No matter what Elizabeth says, no matter how many times she tries to calm me down, the sentence continues to play over and over again in my head. I'm going to tell my boyfriend.

It's not even that Venus is going to tell her boyfriend -- if her boyfriend was just anyone, I would not be in such a spiraling state of desperation and anxiety. But her boyfriend isn't just anyone, her boyfriend is Frank Iero, and the thought of him being made aware of me publicly, seeing me as an actual person outside of closed, secluded areas terrifies me.

So when Frank shows up at Belleville Park, catching me completely off guard despite my thoughts never leaving him, I'm left with an unsettling feeling. I feel scared. I feel anxious -- giddy. He's standing in front of me.

"What's your deal, Rowan?" He sounds breathless and angry, eyes broody and shoulders hunched. His whole demeanor screams "don't fuck with me."

I'm speechless. I twist the sleeve of my coat, wanting to say a million things but not saying anything at all. He pulls a hand through his shortly trimmed hair shakily, muttering something under his breath. Little smoke-like clouds puff from his mouth as he talks, the poor weather only seemingly to make him angrier.

"I told you Venus was a nice girl," he growls, "so what's your deal? Targeting her? Making her feel bad? And for what?" And for what? The unspoken truth is louder than what he's actually saying.

"I... I didn't target her, Frank. I was in the bathroom with Elizabeth, we were talking. And Venus came in and said some nasty things." I can't even recall what was said -- something about names? I want to go back and erase that moment. I want to erase me.

"Yeah," he huffs. He looks me up and down, tongue trailing slowly across the ring in his lip. "I'm sure she just decided to target you right after we stop talking. Sounds pretty goddamn fishy to me, Rowan."

I want him to stop talking, I want him to disappear. I want to forget about my lust for him, forget my feelings, forget the diner incident. I want a perfect world where Frank accepts my soft persona as a good girl, just like where I accept him as he is, flaws and all. I hide my face in my hands.

"Rowan," Frank snaps. I can hear him -- feel him -- get closer to me. Something sharp presses against the front of my arm. The cool metallic sensation causes me to gasp, jolting back against the bench I'm resting on.

"F-Frank..." I stare at the small blade in his hand, barely able to make it out as it's nearly hidden within his sweater sleeve. "I said something rude to Venus, I know, but...this, a knife, is a little much, don't you think?" I can barely swallow through my anxiety, nerves completely shocked and wrecked. I see Frank tighten his grip.

"What are you doing to me, Row?" Frank pulls me up with his free hand, blade pressing against my lower abdomen. My breath catches. "Are you trying to make a fool out of me? Expose me? Expose the bad decision of actually talking to you?" The blade is pressed firmly against my stomach, the only thing keeping me from being cut is the bulky coat I decided to wear today.

"Please, Frank," I softly plead, "just go. I won't say anything -- I never say anything -- just please go before you do anything bad. I don't want this. You can't want this... so please, Frank, just go." My words tremble with fear and my heart pounds with hurt. I just want to go and lock myself away in my bedroom, I want to make amends with God so he can stop with all the hurt.

"You know what I want?" Frank laughs hysterically, and for a moment I think I smell alcohol in his breath. "I want to forget you. You, Rowan. The way you pleaded with me, the way your lips felt against mine, I want to forget the way your body felt against mine. How your hand felt in mine. I want to forget about you."

In one swift movement my coat is torn and I can feel a slow trickle of blood ooze from the cut on my stomach. The wound isn't terrible, it doesn't require stitches, but it hurts enough to bring tears to my eyes.

As if only now realizing his actions, he flips the blade back into the knife, stumbling back slightly and shoving me away from him. I fall on the ground, scrambling away and attempting to gather myself. For a split second we make eye contact.

"Don't say a fuckin' word about this," he growls. Frank doesn't spare me another glance, storming away into the direction he came. I place my hand over the cut on my stomach, looking around to see if anyone has noticed the heated encounter. The park shows empty.

I pull out my phone, the crack on the screen seeming to have grown. With shaky hands I dial Elizabeth's number, as soon as she answers I erratically plead with her to come to the park, to come get me.

As I wait, the before scenario replays in my head like a movie, with each passing moment I become more hysterical, only calming down slightly when Elizabeth embraces me, cooing to me that it's going to be alright, that I'm going to be alright.