What If They Find Out

Frank's P.O.V.

After a few minutes of crying on the bathroom floor I managed to pick myself up and drag myself home. The pain I was feeling was excruciating. Physical and mental. I couldn't take it anymore.

When I got home, I was glad to find the house deserted. I ran quickly to the bathroom and pulled out my blade. I was worthless. But I didn't need the shit those guys put me through my entire life. Maybe when I was gone, I would finally be respected. Well at least they couldn't hurt me anymore. I couldn't take it anymore.

I filled the tub and got a glass of water from the sink. I grabbed my depression medication from the cabinet. I swallowed as many of the pills as I could. At least twenty. Following that with I big gulp of the water to wash them, I grabbed my razor and stood in the tub. It would finally be over. I couldn't take it anymore.

I dragged the blade down from my inner elbow to my wrist. And repeated this on the other side. I couldn't take it anymore.

Tears were streaming down my cheeks. I pushed the metal into each of my wrist, forming two more deep cuts on each before I began to feel lightheaded. Blood was flowing from my arms and into the water. I knew this was selfish of me, but I didn't have any other choice. "I'm sorry Gerard." I whispered. I couldn't take it anymore.

Suddenly I began to black out. Just before my head hit the bottom of the tub, one single thought crossed my mind. I couldn't take it anymore.

Notes

I am sorry. I truly am. I have been playing with your feels for many chapters in a row. But there was a reason. Actually two reasons.

1. It moves the plot.
2. NEVER forget that I can kill ANYONE at any time.

I love you guys soooo much. Sorry about the emotional distress I just caused (hehe no I'm not). Bye :)