Words Mean Nothing.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The smell of Booze had become too pungent for Frank to bare anymore. His eyes watered at the smell of the fowl liquid, holding back the tears that the smell had made his memories swell like a tumor in his brain. Without looking at boy on the bed drinking himself into oblivion he rushed out of the room. He’d put up with that for hours. Hours of hell, of doing nothing but trying to convince Gerard to put the bottle down. He’d done that enough with his father, he couldn’t take it.
Frank wasn’t entirely sure where he was headed, just out of the god-forsaken basement, with so little light it made him feel like it was permanently dark outside. ‘Course, taking by the lack of light coming in the hallway window, it probably was dark outside.
He made his way into the way’s small bathroom, checking in doors until he found it. Third door on the right. He wandered in locking the door behind him. He fully intended to just simply throw some water on his face then maybe head to find Mikey or Elena but, that’s when he saw it; sitting there glistening.
One would think the Way boys would have realized that Frank was re-covering addict and removed the razors from their bathroom but they didn’t. The orange and white Bic razor sitting on the counter was a brand new puppy on Christmas to a little boy. He reached for it and stared at it’s glistening blade. One slice. That’s all Frank needed. One Slice. Not enough to kill him...just enough to help him cope with everything going on.
His shaking fingers pried the razor out of the white protective backing. He held the razor in his fingers, moving it between the tips of his thumb and index finger. One slice, but where. He had to make it count. His eyes surveyed his frail body, coming to rest on his bandaged arm. He bit his lip contemplating his idea.
Before letting himself second guess himself, Frank reached down and sliced through the bandage letting it fall to the floor beneath him with a plop. He stared down at the still bloody mess from earlier in the day. He placed a finger on the outside of the mangled flesh and poked it in. He felt nothing. He stared in disbelief at his arm pressing down and not feeling anything except the trickle of blood hitting his finger.
Curiosity getting the best of him, he placed the razor to the outside of the wound and pulled it down creating a straight line parrelle to the hole. Still nothing. The boy had never felt anything like this he knew he wasn’t numb, because he could feel the trickle of blood hitting his fingers as he pulled the razor along. Curious he pulled the razor across his shoulder.
“Fuckkk.” he exclaimed realizing he’d pressed too hard when the pain was almost unbareable. “What the fuck.”
He took the razor back to his wound and ran it through the whole. Still nothing.
The knock at the door cause Frank to drop the razor clumsily down the drain.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed again rushing to see if he could see it in the sink, all there was, was black. His lifeline had just been flushed down the pipes almost literally.
“Is there anyone in there?” Elena Way called from the hallway.
“Um...Yes. I’ll be out in a second.” Frank exclaimed panicking with what he should do with his now bleeding arm. He grabbed the towel used to dry hands and wiped up the blood on the floor. Little droplets, nothing more. Not like what was on his arm, trickling down into his palm. He wrapped the towel around his arm and went out the door.
Elena Way smiled at him as he passed by. Frank breathed a huge sigh of relief when she didn’t notice the towel or his arm. He rushed as fast as he could down the stairs where Gerard had already passed out on the bed. Sprawled. Sighing Frank lay down on the floor beside the bed yanking a sheet off of Gerard.
As he cried himself to sleep to the pang in his arm he had no idea just how bad his arm was or that this would be the last time he’d sleep in the Way household. The only thing he knew was the smell of blood and booze, an all too familiar smell to the poor boy.
Frank wasn’t entirely sure where he was headed, just out of the god-forsaken basement, with so little light it made him feel like it was permanently dark outside. ‘Course, taking by the lack of light coming in the hallway window, it probably was dark outside.
He made his way into the way’s small bathroom, checking in doors until he found it. Third door on the right. He wandered in locking the door behind him. He fully intended to just simply throw some water on his face then maybe head to find Mikey or Elena but, that’s when he saw it; sitting there glistening.
One would think the Way boys would have realized that Frank was re-covering addict and removed the razors from their bathroom but they didn’t. The orange and white Bic razor sitting on the counter was a brand new puppy on Christmas to a little boy. He reached for it and stared at it’s glistening blade. One slice. That’s all Frank needed. One Slice. Not enough to kill him...just enough to help him cope with everything going on.
His shaking fingers pried the razor out of the white protective backing. He held the razor in his fingers, moving it between the tips of his thumb and index finger. One slice, but where. He had to make it count. His eyes surveyed his frail body, coming to rest on his bandaged arm. He bit his lip contemplating his idea.
Before letting himself second guess himself, Frank reached down and sliced through the bandage letting it fall to the floor beneath him with a plop. He stared down at the still bloody mess from earlier in the day. He placed a finger on the outside of the mangled flesh and poked it in. He felt nothing. He stared in disbelief at his arm pressing down and not feeling anything except the trickle of blood hitting his finger.
Curiosity getting the best of him, he placed the razor to the outside of the wound and pulled it down creating a straight line parrelle to the hole. Still nothing. The boy had never felt anything like this he knew he wasn’t numb, because he could feel the trickle of blood hitting his fingers as he pulled the razor along. Curious he pulled the razor across his shoulder.
“Fuckkk.” he exclaimed realizing he’d pressed too hard when the pain was almost unbareable. “What the fuck.”
He took the razor back to his wound and ran it through the whole. Still nothing.
The knock at the door cause Frank to drop the razor clumsily down the drain.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed again rushing to see if he could see it in the sink, all there was, was black. His lifeline had just been flushed down the pipes almost literally.
“Is there anyone in there?” Elena Way called from the hallway.
“Um...Yes. I’ll be out in a second.” Frank exclaimed panicking with what he should do with his now bleeding arm. He grabbed the towel used to dry hands and wiped up the blood on the floor. Little droplets, nothing more. Not like what was on his arm, trickling down into his palm. He wrapped the towel around his arm and went out the door.
Elena Way smiled at him as he passed by. Frank breathed a huge sigh of relief when she didn’t notice the towel or his arm. He rushed as fast as he could down the stairs where Gerard had already passed out on the bed. Sprawled. Sighing Frank lay down on the floor beside the bed yanking a sheet off of Gerard.
As he cried himself to sleep to the pang in his arm he had no idea just how bad his arm was or that this would be the last time he’d sleep in the Way household. The only thing he knew was the smell of blood and booze, an all too familiar smell to the poor boy.
@WelcomeToTheMarmalade
Sitting alone in 2016 crying because i love this and all the good fanfics are old
1/22/16