Emma's POV

I must have slept late because when I opened my eyes, the placed where Frankie and Gee occupied either side of me were long cool. I checked the time; it was nearly 2 pm. I assumed I was alone in the apartment as there was quiet settled throughout. I stripped off the bandages on my arms, and discovered that all the cuts had healed over into angry red skin. I didn't shower, or use Gee's toothbrush. I didn't want to wash the taste of Frank from my mouth, or the scent of Gerard that clung to my skin. I dressed into the pink shirt and black leggings, and padded barefoot to find coffee. I found that muscles I didn't even know I had ached. What a way to loose it.
I poured myself a steaming black mug, and heard muted voices from the music room. I peered around the door, and Frank beckoned me in.
'So this is the famous Emma, hm?' Ray pulled me into a hug. Mikey and Bob smiled at me, and Gerard pulled me into his lap. Frank shot daggers into Gerard. I wondered if they'd argued.
'You play guitar Em?' Mikey said quietly.
'Yeah she does, she's really good!' Gerard said.
'She can answer for herself.' Okay, Frank was seriously pissed off. I thought it was best to play, so I picked up the now familiar instrument and played a little something I wrote the other day. It was a song about dreams, but I hadn't thought of any words to fit it yet. I called it Disenchanted.
'Holy shit.' Frank said softly, from the other side of the room.
'That was amazing. Like, really.' I smiled at Bob's compliment.
'Where did you learn to play like that?' Ray came over and stroked my forehead.
'I just kinda..taught myself.'
'That's my girl' Gerard put his arm around me. If looks could kill, Frank would have made him dead on the floor.
Soon, after the exchange of many hugs and 'nice to meet you at lasts' only Gee, Frank and I remained in the music room.
'Emma, why don't you go and get some food?' Frank's voice was thunderous, and I thought it best to obey his command. I was scared of how angry he seemed. This was about last night. What else could it be?

I could easily hear the argument from the kitchen. I felt sick to my stomach; I'd caused these two best friends to fight. I scrambled for a carving knife.
'YOU CAN'T ACT LIKE YOU FUCKING OWN HER, GERARD! SHE WANTS ME TOO!'
'WHERE WERE YOU THEN, WHEN SHE WAS WEAK AND ILL? WHEN SHE CUT YOU YELLED AT HER. YOU DON'T DO THAT! I WAS SCARED SHE WAS DYING AND I NEVER WANT TO LEAVE HER ALONE. EVER!'
'SHE'S HER OWN PERSON!'
'SHE'S NOT STRONG ENOUGH!'
My fault my fault my fault. I opened the drawer.
Frank stormed through the door just as the glint of the blade temped to tear through my skin. Gerard followed closely after. Both stopped dead in their tracks.
'Put it down' they hissed in dangerous unison.
I obeyed. Frank strode over, slammed my wrists above my head, pushing me against the wall. I was pinned there, and I couldn't look anywhere but at him. Gerard came over, took one of my wrists, and held me down too.
Tears fell helplessly down my cheeks.
'You are not leaving my sight, do you hear me?' Gerard had had enough of my shit, obviously.
'You wanna hurt yourself so bad? Fine.' Frank let my wrist drop, walked over, got the knife off the side.
'Look me in the eyes and cut me as many times as you would yourself. Now.' I shook and cried.
'N-n-no..'
'No? NO? Do you understand how much it fucking hurts?' And for the first time, I truly did.
'Come on. It's alright. But I'm afraid the next time this happens, you're going to the doctor's.' Gerard pulled me into his chest, knowing the weight of his threat hung heavily with me. He picked me up and carried me to the music room, where the rain of the storm pounding outside beat against the massive window. Frank followed, and all three of us sat there, watching the storm, them taking it in turns to hold me tight.

Notes

It's short and crap I know, but thanks for the continued support anyway
xo