The Hunger In My Heart

It’s quiet, in the Iero household. Too quiet. There is no sign of life within the four walls, there is no pointless conversation echoing from the television set, no buzzing music coming from any of the many CD players buried around the house; the loudest sound to be heard is the low rumble the fridge emits from the whooshing extractor fan built in its mains.

The atmosphere is eerie. Although all but one of the rooms is unoccupied, there is still a strangling tension masking each oxygen particle like a parasite. It could probably make an intruder think twice about invading the unnaturally organised interior.

Upstairs, a recognised guitarist lies in bed, his unfocused eyes red and naturally tanned skin pale. His uneven teeth mechanically chew on the thin sheet covering his blanket, as he stares ahead at the drawn curtains. The room is dark and stuffy.

Over the day and a half, Frank Iero has allowed himself to slip into a state of near depression; every hour has slipped past painfully slowly just the one before and like the one to come will. He’s hurting, inside and out.

Since he left the Gerard’s swanky apartment almost forty eight hours ago, his mind has clouded over with a grey mass; it’s blocking all rationality, sense and motivation. Everything and nothing seems to make sense to him, in this state of sadness. Regardless to say, he’s dealing with his hurting heart the only way he knows best. Not talking, not moving, and not sleeping. Not eating.

It’s as though someone has sucked out Frank’s personality and left behind this lifeless being that does nothing but stare aimlessly into space.

Frank’s mother has been going out of her head with worry, seeing as the guitarist refuses to tell her what’s wrong and why he returned from Gerard’s place in such a state. There was no chance in hell that the short haired Frank was going to tell the women that the man he loves is now engaged to the women who stole him away. However, her worries where only intensified when Frank refused to exit his room at meal times, forcing her to bring the small portioned plates to his room, where they remained beside his bed untouched.

The greying women would skulk out of her sons dark bedroom praying to god he wasn’t slipping back into his old ways. ‘Why won’t he just open up to me?’ she repeatedly questioned to herself and to her husband who decided to stay out of his sons way until absolutely necessary. However, Frank is oblivious to the turmoil he’s causing within his mother as he’s too occupied with his own heartache; being unknowingly selfish. After the second meal his mother brought up for him yesterday he hauled himself up and locked the door- in hope of shutting out every trace of the outside world; he’s convinced that inside his stuffy room now extra pain can get to him. However, in reality shutting himself away like so, only exemplifies his existing troubles as he ponders the events of the other night.

Frank continues to grind his teeth down on the bed sheet subconsciously, blinking every so often.

Is this a dream? He wonders for the hundredth time today, has Gerard really gotten engaged to Maria? Is this new relationship the reason why he never bothered to contact me when I was in California? Was he too busy playing happy families with her to remember the man he claimed to love?

Questions play over and over in the twenty five years olds mind.

I just wanted answers, he thinks, I just wanted to know why he left me, I promised myself I would be content with whatever is thrown at me as long as I find out why I never heard of him for six months. I swore I’d be mature; I wouldn’t let my emotions show like this. But, I wasn’t expecting him to have moved on so suddenly leaving me without so much as a fucking glimmer of hope that we can rebuild are broken relationship.

A tiny hole develops in the weak material beneath Frank’s teeth but he continues gnawing away at it.

All that crap he spun me was probably all part of his plan, Frank continues, he just wanted to lock me away so he can carry on with his filthy affair. Well, I guess it’s not really an affair anymore.

He sighs a little when his stomach vibrates beneath his worn out bed cloths.
I thought he really wanted me to get better, he told me I’d be beautiful at a normal weight; he told me we’d be happier. How could be lie so easily to my face? How could I have so willingly believed him?

Another vibration emits within Franks stomach, a little stronger, a little louder.

They taught me so much shit in Abbeymoore, but they didn’t help me to deal with a broken heart. What’s the point in learning how to stay fat when it does nothing but turn away those who love you?

His tummy rumbles properly now, bringing to attention that for the first time in two days Frank is in fact hungry. On the floor beside his bed is a tray with some sandwiches on it; they’ve been sat there for over twenty four hours and Frank can’t think of anything he’d like to do less than eat them. He’s certain he’d die if the mature cheddar cheese infected his tatse buds.

Downstairs, the front door clicks shut. The noise tingles the man’s ears as they adjust to the sudden noise. His parents are home. Within seconds, steady footsteps can be heard making their way up the carpeted stairs. The same stairs Frank and Gerard almost had sex on, before moving into the bedroom.

“Frank?” Mrs Iero calls hopefully. Her booming voice hurts her sons head as it has been submerged in silence for so long. From downstairs her husband is trying to convince her to ‘give the boy some space’; she ignores him and calls out again.

From behind the locked door, Frank Jr, wishes him mother away. She never cared when I was locked away, why should she care now?

“Are you hungry?” she tries, her voice dripping with desperation. As if on que Frank’s stomach rumbles from the bed covers; he ignores it though.

“No,” he finally replies, his voice hoarse from lack of use. Surprisingly his mother heard and reminded him of her availability to talk if he needs to. Frank rolls his eyes in annoyance. Retreating footsteps make their way back down the stairs where Mrs and Mr Iero engage in conversation about their son’s lack of cooperation.

More hours pass, and Frank is still in the same position. Outside, the sky is darkening but he is oblivious seeing as he’s been in blackout for two days. Occasionally, laughing can be heard in the street and it stabs at the man’s heart. The only thing he strives for in life is happiness yet no matter what strengths he goes to, it can never be achieved.

Without warning, the house phone rings making Frank jump. He hears his mother rushing from the kitchen to answer it; for some reason Franks ears burn to know who’s on the other line. Knowing his luck it’ll probably be one of his mum’s friends offering advice on rebelling children; even though Frank is neither of those, rebelling or a child.

“Hello?”

“Oh thank god, it’s you,”

“Yeah, one second,”

Carrying the cordless phone Linda rushes up the stairs and bangs on her sons
door. “Frank?”

He doesn’t reply.

“Frank, Gerard’s on the phone.”

Suddenly, Frank becomes very alert. His heart pumping blood around his body quicker than it has in a while. What should I do? He thinks, should I answer or not? Part of him wants to talk to Gerard, wants to get all his new questions answered but then the other part of him wants to wash his hands of the black haired man, just like he did to Frank.

“Frank honey please, Gerard needs to talk to you,”

Silence.

Finally, his mother gives up and slumps away, back downstairs.

“I’m sorry,” she sighs before explaining the situation to the singer. “He hasn’t been himself over the last couple of days, I’m so worried,” unexpectedly, she breaks down in to hard heavy sobs. Gerard tries his best to console her but she continues, sniffing every couple of seconds.

“He hasn’t even been eating,” she cries, “I don’t know what to do,”

From upstairs, Frank can hear everything and he doesn’t know what to feel. Why do I always somehow end up ruining people’s lives? I’m such a hassle to live with. All I want is to be happy, yet all I provoke is gloom and unhappiness.

Tears begin to well up in his hazel eyes, for the first time since he was at Gerard’s.

I can make you happy Frankie.