The End is Easier

"fuck off! Bastards!"
"Shut the fuck up bitch! No one told you to talk!"
I could feel the air in my lungs start to dissipate as one of them kicked me in the chest.
*RINGGGG!!*
The bell dismissing us from school rang.
"We'll be back to kick your ass tomorrow Iero!"
One of them spit on me and they all ran down the hall to their lockers.
Fuck my chest hurt.
I stumbled down the hall towards my locker and grabbed my messenger bag. I slammed my locker shut and limped to the front doors of the school.
As soon as I was outside i lit a cigarette and started to walk home.
Fuck school. I'm so sick of those assholes.
I took the short cut threw the forest that I usually take. It was a nice crisp September afternoon. I was home in about 10 minutes.
My house was a smallish two story, all grey, with blue shutters. It was the perfect size for me, my mother, and my dog, Sweet pea.
I walked in. Sweet pea attacked me with her yapping. I ignored her and walked straight to my room.
I threw my bag next to the door and collapsed on my bed.
Fuck! My chest and head were killing me.
I lifted up my shirt to see my chest littered with bruises and cuts. A huge, shoe sized, bruise, below the right side of my ribcage, had begun to turn a sickening yellow purple.
I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.
It was my friend Bob.
He usually protects me from asshats at school, but he was a no-show today.
I unlocked my phone and read what he'd sent me
'You k midget? I herd u got your ass kicked
Sorry I wasnt ther'
I didn't reply.
I got up and went to the bathroom.
I checked out the many small cuts that littered my face, and the dark purple crescent moon that formed under my left eye.
This wasn't even their worst. I've seen Chris and his gang break a kids arm for almost nothing.
I found a wash clothe and ran it under the cold water. I rung it out and started to wash out my cuts and scrapes.
Gross, ugly, thin, fuck up,
all these words swam in my head.
"Fuck off."
I didn't even realise that I had said it out loud.
"Frankie? Is that you?"
I hung up the wash clothe.
"Yes mom!"
I called out to her.
She came strolling by the bathroom.
"Oh Frankie what happened!"
She came over and inspected my face.
"Oh you know skating can be a bitch if you fall."
I lied.
"Be careful Frank. You know I hate it when you do that."
"Ill be careful, I promise."
She sighed and rolled her eyes.
"I have to go to work tonight. There's some left over eggplant parm in the fridge if you want some for dinner. I love you and I will see you tomorrow."
She pulled me into a hug.
I winced.
"I'm serious Frank, take precaution next
time."
"I love you to mom."
As soon as I heard the living room door close, I ran back to my room.
I pulled out my red Vans shoe box from under my bed.
I opened up my little black case I keep my blades in.
I pulled out my longest blade. The one I had broken out of an ladies razor blade package.
I brought it down to my scared wrist and sliced. I don't know why I do it. It just makes me feel alive. It makes everything go away. The voice in my head subsides and so does the world around me.
I cut to many times to count. I stopped when blood from my arm started to drip onto the carpet in my room. I grabbed some tissue and wiped away most of the blood. I put away my blades and pulled my sweatshirt sleeve down. I laid on my bed for awhile. With the voice in my head repeating over and over. 'Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure....."
Until I fell asleep.
The next day was Saturday. I had nothing to do so I slept in until one o'clock. When I felt that I had to get up and do something. I got up out of bed and took a shower.
I walked into the bathroom. I started the shower. Making sure the temperature was just right. I stripped down to my birthday suit and climbed in. The hot water felt good on my skin. I looked down and noticed my poor neglected erection.
Fuck it.
I grasped a hand around my length and gave a firm squeeze.
"Fuck!"
I quickly threw my hand over my mouth, trying to muffle my lustful moans.
But shit! I hadn't done this in awhile.
I picked up the pace as a was coming close to the edge.
When there was a knock at the door.
"Frankie do you have any laundry in your room that needs to be washed?"
Goddamn it!
"No!"
I called back.
I heard her walk away.
Well that was a real turn off.
I sighed, turned the water off, and stepped out of the shower. I wrapped a towel around my naked person, and headed back to my room.
I quickly changed into a pair of skinny jeans, a loose fitting Metallica t-shirt, and just a plane back sweatshirt.
I went down stairs into the living room.
My mom was sitting on the couch folding laundry and watching the afternoon news.
I came and sat down next to her and started to help her fold.
"Frank?"
My eyes Unglued from the tv and wrested on my mothers face.
"Yeah mom."
"let me see your arm."
My mom knows about my cutting. We had had many conversations about how I can always come to her if I need help. She has been wanting to send to me to counseling, but we don't have the money.
I rolled up both my sleeves. Deep red slices were across both my wrists almost reaching my elbows.
"Frankie."
I could see the tears well up in her eyes. And the way her voice shook a bit when she talked.
She lightly moved her fingers across every mark. I winced in pain as her fingers came across a very deep cut.
She quickly pulled them away.
"You know you can always talk to me.
I will always be here for you. I love you Frank with all my heart, But what your doing is breaking it."
She covered her face with her hands and began to sob.
I wrapped my arms around her.
"Its not your fault."
I whispered in her ear.
She moved her hands from her face, and started to hug me back.
She broke the embrace shortly, wiping the last few tears that fell.
"I've signed you up for therapy." She blurted out.
I honestly wasn't that surprised. I knew this was coming. It was just a matter of time.
"When does it start?"
I was very calm. keeping my composer, because I didn't want to lash out at her. If I should be angry at anyone it should be at myself, for even starting this whole charade.
"Tomorrow at five thirty. I'm sorry its short notice. I've been meaning to tell you but I just couldn't find the right time, or moment."
I replied with a short 'ok.'
"Frankie, I just want you to be better. I want to hear you laugh again. I want to see that beautiful smile! You used to be such a happy little baby. I know things haven't been the same in a long time. And I know we heal differently. But please honey, don't take it out on yourself."
I gave her another hug.
I finished helping her with the laundry. I folded it and delivered it to all its right places.
"I think I'm gonna head over to Ray's if that's ok with you?"
I asked her after I had come down stairs from putting away some towels.
"Yes that fine. Just be home by twelve. And if you stay call me."
"I will."
I skipped down the front porch steps and began my short journey.
Ray's house was only like a block away from mine, so I got there shortly.
I walked up the steps to his giant house. Seriously, his house was twice the size of mine! It was huge.
I walked up the big stone steps.
Everyone was always at Ray's house. It was like a sacred place that we all went to
To unwind. I didn't bother knocking, because I was all ways over, and everyone knew me. I just opened the door and waltzed on in.
Ray's younger brother was in the living room playing COD with some of his friends.
"Yo Trey where's Ray?"
Trey didn't even look at me. He was so sucked into his game.
He pointed upstairs.
"Thanks."
I gave a hand wave and headed upstairs.
I could hear Ray before I could see him. He was jamming out on his guitar.
I noticed the song. It was Heart Shaped Box by Nirvana. I poked my head into his room.
Ray's walls were littered with posters. Everywhere you looked there was a different band. I don't think there was one inch of wall without coverage.
His walls may have been obscene and a mess, but his room wasn't. Everything was organized. The bookshelf, his CD's, his sheet music, hell, even his fucking clothes were organized!
"Hey."
He stopped playing looked up at me.
"What's up Frankenstein?"
I came in and sat down on his floor.
"Nothing. Just bored and thought i'd stop by and see what's what."
"Dude what happened to your face?"
He pointed to the huge bruise under my eye.
It still hurt like a bitch and looked as if a fucking crane had backed up onto my face.
"Oh. You know just Chris."
"What a fucking dick! I would go beat the fuck out of him. But sense I'm older I wouldn't want to end up in jail or some shit."
It is true. Ray graduated high school two years ago. He's like twenty,
three years older than myself. He's been staying at home waiting for his music career to take off.
"You look like you have info little Hobbit, spill it."
He could read me so well. Sometimes it pissed me off because I didn't always want to share information with him, but he can always tell if something's up.
I didn't bother withholding this news because it was kinda important and he'd figure out later.
"My moms sending me to therapy."
By force of habit I looked down at my sweater covered arms.
"Dude you knew it was gonna happen. Just do it for a bit, and like just pretend that your totally normal. Then maybe they'll just say your fine."
I snickered.
"Oh yeah. Because there's obviously nothing wrong with me Ray, how would you knot notice the hundreds of scars on a kids arm and just say he's fine?"
"Whatever man. Just relax and i'll play you a song."

Notes