The next morning, Frank’s life was thrown upside down without warning. His mom shook him awake at 8AM, gently but firmly. “Frank wake up,” she hissed. Her son looked at her, bleary eyed, confused at being woken up so abruptly. Glancing at his alarm clock beside him and reading the flashing pixels tell him how early it was, he groaned and looked to his mother in confusion. Usually she let him sleep all day if he was in a bad way. Obviously she was taking a different approach this time. “I’m not asking you to go to school today, but I need you to get up,” she continued, looking guilty but determined to enforce her new rules. “I don’t want you to sleep all day to avoid your problems. You’ve been doing it for far too long and I can’t watch it anymore. You can’t keep isolating yourself like this. You’re wasting your life away like this, sleeping all the time and holing yourself up in your bedroom. And I know that right now you might not particularly want a life but you’re going to have one. I’ll be damned if I don’t do my part. I mean it.” And she did.

She finally coaxed Frank up after about twenty minutes, unfurling his duvet from him and encouraging him to take a shower. Whilst he trudged off to the bathroom, grumbling all the way, Frank’s mom quickly got to work. She called up their neighbour who had been waiting downstairs and he quickly got to work taking the door off its hinges. Linda had gone around to his home the earlier that day, as well as going to the pharmacy to get Frank’s prescription, and asked him to come over. She wasn’t going to stand back and let her son self-destruct any longer. She knew what he had been doing in his bedroom now. All those nights he spent alone, he wasn’t just reading or playing video games or practicing his guitar, like she thought he was. He was crying, despairing, hurting himself. She couldn’t let it go on any longer. She was his mother, and it was her job to protect him, even if that meant doing things he would hate her for.
Linda’s neighbour, Mr Turner, thought it was an odd request but accepted what Linda was asking him, thinking it was just a creative punishment for an unruly son. The job was over and done within a few minutes.

Frank and Linda’s neighbour left the house when it was done, promising to store the bedroom door in his garden shed for when it was needed again, Linda thanking him happily. Once he had left, Linda quickly re-entered her son’s room and gave a quick sweep of his room, conscious that her son could only be so long in the shower and already surprised that he hadn’t heard the noises of the drill over the stream of water and come to investigate. It was pretty well known in their house that Linda wasn’t exactly handy with DIY. Linda quickly searched for anything that she thought might be harmful to Frank’s recovery, including his laptop so he couldn’t access any inappropriate sites. As a teenage boy, Frank was nearly always glued to his laptop so she knew he’d take the loss of it hard, but it was something that needed to be done. She was rooting in his drawers searching for his blades when she noticed Frank at her side, wrapped only in a towel, droplets of water dropping down his chest, his hair wet and sticking to his head. His looked thunderous.

“What the HELL are you doing to my room?” he spat at her, absolute hatred in his voice. He stalked towards her, his eyes narrowed. “And where is the fucking door?! I don’t know what fucking possessed you to take the door off its fucking hinges but you can put it back on right now! What the hell’s wrong with you?!” Frank looked like he was going to murder his mother at any second but instead of retreating and doing as he wished as she normally would have done; Linda walked towards her son and placed her hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him down on his bed.He sat looking up at her, taken by surprise firstly the loss of his door and secondly his mother’s attempt to calm him. Normally she would have quickly left the room, not wanting to upset her son any more than she already had done. She walked on eggshells around him, terrified at suddenly upsetting him. His emotions changed so rapidly that he could be happy (or as happy as he seemed to get) one minute and locked in his room and refusing to come out just a few minutes later. His moods were wild and unpredictable that it often scared her. She didn’t like to admit that the little boy she had raised who would bang on pots and pans at her side whilst she cooked; had turned out this way. It scared her, as did Frank. She had taken a back seat for far too long, hoping Frank would be able to figure things out for himself soon enough but now it was clear to her that she couldn’t let him push her around any longer. Not that Frank was an abusive son, he wasn’t. In fact he was the opposite most of the time. He had always been sweet, but lately that was just buried under the sadness and anger he had been suffering from for all this time. Deep down Linda knew underneath all that was the sweet boy who used to sing while they drove, who would cook for her on nights she was too tired to, and spent his first pay check on flowers for her to say thanks for all the things she had done for him. That was all just buried somewhere and Linda knew if she dug deep enough, she could get that son back. She also knew if she didn’t move fact, that side of her son may be lost forever. She was determined not to let Frank carry on his self-destruction any longer.

Linda sat down beside Frank so she wouldn’t be towering over her son, not wanting him to feel threatened or intimidated. Frank was small enough already without adding him being sat down to the equation. She took his hand and looked into his eyes. He was still ridiculously angry but Linda knew Frank would at least try to listen to what his mom had to say. “Frank, I know you probably want to absolutely murder me right now but please just listen to what I have to say. I am so worried about you right now. I have been for so long but I thought maybe things would get better, that maybe this was just a little phase. Obviously not, though, it’s been going on for far too long for that. Things haven’t been ok with you for a long time. You’re not the person you used to be. You’re not my little boy anymore.” She reached up to stroke her son’s face, surprised with he didn’t veer away from her or shove her hand away.

“I know you can’t be a little kid anymore, I know little kids do grow up. But not like this Frank, never like this. You and I both know that the way you’ve been acting lately isn’t normal. I know you think I don’t understand. I know I can never understand fully. I can’t imagine how awful you must be feeling right now, how confused and lonely. ..But I know one thing. I love you, and I want things to be better for you. I want things to go back to the way they were before all this stuff started. And I know they never can, I know you’re going to be scarred forever because of this. But I also know you can claw your way back from the place you’re at now and make the best of this situation. If anyone can do it, it’s you Frankie. Before all this started, you were the happiest, sweetest person. And I know this next part is going to be hard to hear, but you’ve got to listen to me. It’s nothing you don’t already know…You’re an empty shell of the person you used to be. I barely recognise you, and it breaks my heart. You’re isolating everyone, pushing everyone away. I’ve let you do this for so long but I can’t let this slide by anymore, not after what happened the other night. You need help and you’re not going to get better if I let you stay on your own all the time and turn a blind eye, pretending I don’t know what’s going on. I’ve done that for so long now that the thought of trying to do it again, it makes me sick. I thought I was protecting you this whole time, but I just made things worse, and I’m so sorry. But I can’t do it anymore. That’s why I took your door off your hinges. I need to keep an eye on you right now. I don’t want you hurting yourself like that ever again. You could be doing anything alone here at night. You were.’ She gestured to his arms. Although they were covered with tattoos, the deep, pink and white lines covered the spaces in between. “I don’t trust you right now. I can’t, not after this. So until I do trust you again, this is it.” She gestured to the empty door frame. “This is how it’s gonna be. I don’t expect you to understand, but I do expect you to respect my decision and trust me.”

Frank had been speechless the whole time his mom had been speaking and Linda took advantage of this, kissing his forehead and murmuring “I love you,” before quickly leaving the room before he could protest, taking his laptop with her and leaving him to rage alone.

---

Frank passed the rest of the day predominately motionless. He stared at the wall in a trance for god knows how long, thinking about nothing in particular. He felt empty.

Dinner that night was uncomfortable. Frank sat pushing his food around with his fork feeling no particular urge or need to eat. He sat like his until his food had most certainly gone cold. “Eat, Frank.” His mother urged. But to Frank it seemed too hard, too much of an effort for no particular gain. He was tired and irritable and most of all, he was alive. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten in about two days. Frank cringed, embarrassed but dropped his fork down onto his plate, the metal hitting off the plate and making a harsh noise that seemed to bounce off the walls. His mother sighed angrily and pushed her chair back from the table. “Fine Frank, don’t eat. Have it your way.” She grabbed his plate and dumped it by the sink along with her own. Frank felt as if he had been slapped in the face. It wasn’t like he had a problem with eating, not in that way. It was just he often found the actual of process of eating so hard that it almost didn’t seem worth the bother. The thought of chewing and swallowing ground up food often made him feel so nauseous that he didn’t want to eat. And when he did want to eat, it often took him so long that people would get frustrated or annoyed, thinking he was eating slowly on purpose. Other times the smell of food made him feel so sick that he didn’t want to eat anymore. But most of all, eating took so long and he had to put so much effort into it; that it seemed like a good idea to just forget about it most of the time, considering he barely had any energy in the first place. It just felt stupid to waste so much effort on eating when he’d only need to do the same thing a few hours later.

Frank went to speak but thought better off it, knowing it wasn’t worth getting into. She simply wouldn’t understand, and he didn’t expect her to. It was all a bit ridiculous after all. Instead Frank sat looking at the wall whilst his mom clattered around with the plates behind him, showing how angry she was by violently scraping food off their plates and hurling the dishes into the dishwasher. Frank didn’t look up until she came over to him a few minutes later with a glass of water and one of Frank’s pills. She placed both on the table and stood over him. “You have to take these Frank. You’re supposed to take them with food but if you’re not going to eat…” she trailed off, annoyed and feeling slightly bitter.

When Frank didn’t make a move to pick up the pill she sighed. “Please don’t make this a repetition of this morning, Frank.” That morning he had argued with her, refusing to take the pill firmly believing that he didn’t need it. He had only given in and begrudgingly taken it when she had threatened to call Gerard. He didn’t want to annoy the doctor and he most certainly didn’t want to be a ‘problematic patient.’ He wanted to look like he was at least trying to make an effort to get better. That way he would be left alone sooner.

“Fucking hell mom, fine,” he sighed, knowing if he didn’t give in, there’d be a fight and feeling far too drained for that. Frank took the pill, feeling pathetic and defeated. Linda nodded but remained over Frank until he opened his mouth to show her he had actually swallowed what she had given him. Frank rolled his eyes. “You watch too many movies,” he told her. He obviously didn’t tell her that despite swallowing the pills he was already trying to figure out how people in the movies were able to look like they were swallowing their meds but we spitting them out as soon as the backs of those providing the pills were turned. Frank was desperate to figure it out. He felt different, and even though he knew it was probably just the placebo effect he did not want to take those vile pills for a day longer than he had to. His mom looked relatively happier at Frank taking the pills, begrudgingly so yes but at least he was doing so. Therefore Frank decided to ask the question that he had been afraid to ask all day.

“By the way mom, what did you tell school?” he asked nervously, fearing her answer. His mom looked at him as if she couldn’t believe he even asked. “I told them the truth,” she said matter of fact. “We’re not going to hide from this.” Oh Jesus Christ. “Mom, what the hell? Please tell me you’re joking!” screeched Frank, his heart hammering as the few bites of his dinner he had eaten churned in his stomach. “Unfortunately not, Frank,” was all his mom said.
“So what, the whole school thinks I’m crazy now? I can’t believe you did this.” Frank’s mind raced; he could already imagine coming back to school only to be greeted with overly sympathetic teachers who secretly felt sorry for him and kids who sneered at him, wishing he had succeeded at his attempt to die. Frank was invisible and that was the way he liked it. After this there would be no getting away from his problems. They would follow him around in the form of overly worried teachers, fearing Frank to have a sudden breakdown in their class and give them a bad reputation as a teacher. Frank would be a bomb, passed around from teacher to teacher, each afraid they would be the one to make him blow. “Frank for heaven’s sake! You are not crazy! Don’t use words like that. Look, I didn’t tell them all of it, I just told them your mental health was a bit shaky at the moment and you needed a few days at home to recover before going back. I didn’t tell them about…” she couldn’t say it. “The other night,” she finally put it. “It’s Monday today, so you have exactly a week l and only the principal and your teachers for this year know; no one else. I asked for Ray and Bob to be told you’re sick.” She caught his eye as he began to protest. “Sick with a cold, Frank. I’m sure that’s what they’ll say if anyone asks. The word will spread. No one will think anything of you being absent from school for a few days. You’re sick a lot anyway, so people really won’t think anything of it, I promise you.”

Frank felt slightly better when he realised this was true. He was off school sick quite a lot and it was a big school. His absence would go by pretty unnoticed. The only people who might miss him slightly were Ray and Bob and they were given a cover story, although the fact that it was in fact a cover story was unbeknownst to them. Frank was grateful to his mom for this. If his friends knew he was sick they weren’t likely to come round to the house to visit, but if they were just left not knowing anything they might have come to check on Frank. Frank really wasn’t keen on the idea of Ray and Bob coming to visit him and walking in on his mom trying to shove anti-depressants down his throat and seeing his bedroom without a door. Then they’d definitely know something was up. Still, Frank shuddered at the thought of the sympathetic and disappointed faces of his teachers he would inevitably face when he returned to school. The thought made him either want to a), throw up, b), never return to school again or c), all of the above.

Still, as Frank sloped off to bed, he couldn’t help but worry. He’d been off school before because of things like this, but that was when things were really bad, and he had stayed off for months at a time, not even being able to get out of bed as his mother cried and despaired at his side. It had happened so often that he’d been held back a grade. That was when he had met Ray and Bob. Frank was glad to have met his new friends but he’d have much preferred if he’d have been normal and never had had to go through with any of that. He worried that this break from school would be the start of a long line of absences and things would repeat themselves. He couldn’t cope with another year like that, not again. He was graduating this year, and that was one of his only sources of happiness. If he had to go through yet another year of high school, he’d die, suicidal or not.

With his head filled with these worries and aching bones from the crash he’d succeeded to lose his car from but not his life, Frank fell into bed, hoping to sleep forever. If he was lucky, really lucky, he’d never wake up.

Notes

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