The Hunger In My Heart

A young man with a fresh mind and a troubled past, waits patiently by the reception area of a clinic most people would dread to have to enter. For a little over six months, this exact clinic, Abbeymoore, was home to none other than Frank Iero.

He raps his soft fingers against the counter creating a steady beat, which seems to echo within the confines of the hallway. The emptiness is shocking, seeing as throughout Frank’s stay, the reception had always been filled with crying sufferers and family members trying to ‘do the right thing’. Today is quite the contrast.

Frank’s hazel eyes scroll over to a wooden door on the other side of the reception, a silver plate with the words ‘Visiting room’, spelt out in black is stuck against the front. The room which would normally go unnoticed has an extreme significance in Frank’s life. In that very chamber, Frank’s life made a turn for the worst and he’ll never forget it. Every moment he spent in there is still painfully fresh in the young man’s memory, the shadow of every tear he cried still stings his cheeks and every word that slipped from his partners mouth remains clear in his mind; he’ll never forget being dragged out of there screaming at the top of his lungs, begging for his lover, his best friend, to just come back to him. Unfortunately he never did; and even though it’s been exactly six months and 3 days since leaving that room a damaged man, the wounds created from the experience have not yet fully healed.

“Sorry for wait Mr. Iero,” a young women, not much older than Frank returns to the desk with a couple of white sheets in her manicured hands. Her eyes, bright and happy, skim through the various forms before sliding them over the desk for Frank to sign. He follows her indications and scribbles his signature in the lines provided.

Thank god, he thinks, I’m finally a free man. No more meal plans, no more involuntary weighing, I can finally take control of my life once more; and this time, I’m going to do it right.

The young blond women behind the desk jabs her slender finger once more against the white sheet, signaling for Frank to sign; he obliges then places the pen back in the holder when he’s done. Although his face is neutral and not showing much emotion, his mind is riddled with various feelings. Some of them Frank isn’t even sure of, however, relief is the boldest. It’s running through his blood like another substance, it can be seen his lively hazel orbs; the receptionist can even feel it radiating of him like some sort of nuclear power; yet his face is quite blank.

I want to say a final goodbye to Alison. He decides. She’s been one of the only people keeping me sane, god help me if she didn’t manage to lift me up when the pits of depression became all too powerful and suicide actually looked like an easier option than life.

“Is it possible I can speak to Mrs Summers?” he questions. The young women nods before trotting over to the phone and calls for Alison Summers to report to the reception.

“You can take a seat; she’ll be here any minute.” Frank smiles great fully at the women before heading over to the spongy chairs in the middles of the reception room. His bottom sinks into the material happily; he can now sit freely without having the burdening thoughts of weight loss tampering with his mind. He no longer feels the need to shake his leg vigorously or hold his stomach in so tightly his muscles threaten to rip.

I’m free, he concludes; free from myself, back to who I used to be. No more nasty voices, no more spontaneous behavior. I’m finally back in control of myself and I’m enjoying my own mind.

The voice which once haunted the young man’s thoughts has long since departed,

obviously not agreeing with Franks fight for recovery. Occasionally his insecurities still worm their way into his thoughts and try to poison his new state of mind, but he learns to deal with them. He swore to himself, after coming very close to death a little after Gerard broke off from him, that he’ll never intentionally cause himself so much pain. If his fingers ever find their way down his throat he will no doubt chop them off with a hack saw.

Although the brunette male is no longer starving himself into non existence, he’s still only just bordering an average weight. Many of his bones are still rather defined; however they don’t look sharp enough to slice through his once ill looking skin. Color has returned to pigments in his skin and life is once again visible in his sparkling hazel eyes. He’s healthy but still rather thin.

The click- clocking of heels against the glossy floors echo’s through the reception much like Frank’s make shift drumming had. He turns his head quickly making a few strands of his long brown hair flick into his face. He smiles both internally and externally when he catches sight of Alison marching down the hall a large white smile plastered on her slightly aging face. The grin Frank once found sickeningly fake has become a comfort of his.

He pulls himself away from the soft chair and into the arms of the worker. He is quite a lot shorter than the women in her mid- forties, even when she is without the high heels.

God I’m going to miss her hugs, he sighs to himself. I hope I’ll be able to cope without her reassurance when I get low. I’d love to take her with me, but I know how much trouble it can be welcoming nice women into your life; I’ve learnt from my mistake with Maria.

The thought of Maria, still brews raw emotions that resemble anger within the man. He can’t help but wonder if Gerard had never slept with Maria, would they still be together? Although, the question is built on madness, seeing as Maria left to go back to Chicago, where she’ll probably occupy herself in the run down café like old days, but perhaps if she hadn’t opened Gerard’s eyes to all the problems Frank was throwing at him then maybe, just maybe they’d still be together.

“I’m going to miss you Frank,” Alison coo’s while rubbing he gentle hand vertically on Frank’s back. The gesture seems to soothe him somewhat and make him sink into her grasp. For the eventful period of time Frank’s occupancy at Abbeymoore, Mrs Summers has becoming something of a mother figure, providing him with all the support he craved. For his whole stay, she was all he had. Gerard never returned to visit, he never called or wrote; for all he knows Frank could have passed away beneath the laborious grasp Anorexia had on him. Equally, his parents never bothered to check in on him, their only son left to rot in a clinic. Or that’s how it feels to Frank.

“Me too,” Frank whispers into her shoulder. He uses all his might not to cry, crying is a weakness and one thing Frank has learnt over the past year and a half, is not to reveal your weaknesses- unless of course you don’t mind them being used against you.

After a little while, the two pull away from each other throwing final goodbyes back and forth, holding onto any final moments they can catch together. Frank never has coped well with goodbyes.

“If you ever need anything just call the clinic, I’ll always be willing to help, ok?” The voice of the lady embeds itself within Frank’s memory; he’ll bare the offer in mind. It’s guaranteed that some time during his departure from Abbeymoore he’ll be tempted into his old ways, it will be handy to have Alison’s help still available.

Shortly after, Frank walks slowly out of the large white doors for the final time dragging his two cases along behind him. The spring breeze blows calmly through his growing locks and the smell of freedom seems to linger in his nostrils for a little while as he stands outside on the clinic path for a few seconds.

His neck cranes a slightly, allowing him to take a final look at his old home, while one of his hand slip into the pocket of his now almost fitting jeans. His fingers clutch a tiny item which he pulls it out into the open. A tiny pale pink shell rests between his thumb and two fingers;
a thoughtful smile rests on his lips as he stares down at it.

Gerard slipped it into his pocket the day he walked out of his life.

Slipping the shell back into the safety of his pocket, he picks up his cases and continues through the large gates and out into the Californian streets with one destination in mind.

"Jersey, here I come."