Gerard and I have been best friends since we were seven years old.
I remember the first time Gerard had a mental breakdown. We were sitting in class drawing when we heard a loud clap of thunder. Gerard was staring down at a blank sheet of paper muttering something to himself, when I caught the word “sissy”. He was still for a short time. When , all of a sudden, he grabbed a black crayon and wrote “sissy” back and forth across the page. There were tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. He wiped them out before they could even roll down his cheeks, he whispered “I am not a sissy” ever so quietly before he grabbed a red crayon and zig-zagged it across the paper.
His dad use to call him a “sissy” because he was afraid of thunder. He was 10.
Back then, it wasn’t much different than it is now. His father still looked disappointedly at him every time he came home with a bloody lip or tears in his eyes. Gerard being alive wasn’t enough.
No, it wasn’t enough. The scars on his wrists were a testament to that.
Everyday when he went home, he was subject to the same torture that he was at school, the same name calling, the same abuse day after day.
And it was all because he wished Mikey lived instead of him.
Gerard had always been the odd ball. Mikey…was normal.
Gerard knew what his father thought of him.
He knew because his father told him. Well he didn’t tell him persay, more like he screamed it at the top of his lungs in his face.
So when Gerard was twelve he tried to kill himself by drinking bleach and slitting his wrists.
I saw him in the hospital. It scared me to see all those tubes sticking out from him. But most of all it hurt. It hurt that he didn’t talk to me, that he didn’t confide in me.
After that I made him talk to me. I didn’t want to lose my best friend.
Who wants to lose their best friend?
Last year, though, he came out to me in a fit of tears. He told me he was gay.
We were on the roof staring at the stars, the power had gone out so we could see them perfectly. I heard him crying next to me.
“Hey, Gerard what’s wrong?”
I turned to him, and enclosed him in my arms.
“N-nothing”
“Then, why are you crying?”
He tried rubbing the tears from his eyes.
“B-because I’m g-gay, and I don’t want you to hate me”
I pushed the hair out of his face, and said “I could never hate you”
He smiled and I kissed him on the cheek. We stayed like that for a while until Gerard fell asleep. I felt so bad waking him up, but afterwards, when we slept in the same bed, it was worth it.
I realized then that I loved my best friend more than I really should. I knew I was bi. He knew I was bi, but I also knew what he had been through. It wouldn’t be right for me to take advantage of him like that.
But, that year someone else found out that Gerard was gay. They’d found out from Gerard’s ex-boyfriend, his ex-boyfriend who happened to be at the top of the class, The Valedictorian.
The last few months of school were hell for him.
If I wasn’t with him at all times he was likely to get beat up or made fun of. He wouldn’t fight back; he’d just cower and curl himself up in a whimpering ball. The last time it happened I’d barely made it in time to help. He was crying hysterically and wouldn’t let anyone touch him, not even me. After, that he had another mental breakdown and wouldn’t go to school. His father wouldn’t send him to a hospital like he was supposed to so he stayed home in his room. He never left; not even to eat or go to the bathroom.
So Sissy stayed and took care of him. She’d just graduated from high school.
Every time he sees her home, I see the painful regret. The self hate he feeds off of. He suffers knowing that he held her back from achieving her dreams.
I’ve seen it in his eyes.
I’ve seen it on his wrists.
On his arms.
On his chest.
On his stomach.
On his legs.
On his bloody nails.
On his scratched face.
He tries, but he can’t ever seem to be able to step out of the shadows.
But for now he is a little better. I know he’s nervous. Tomorrow is his first day. He’s scared. I’m scared, too. I want him to be better as much as he wants to be.
I have to protect him.
I have to get him through this.
I can’t let him slip like Alice down the rabbit hole.
But we’re both so tired of life.
I haven’t had it easy myself.
I haven’t always been strong.
No I haven’t, but I have to be.
He is so tired.
He used to tell me so all the time when we were little…


A small black haired boy was tucked into a corner of his room. His hands were resting on his ears as he tried to black out the shouting coming from the outside of his door. He tried to block out the loud crashes and smacks, the dull thumps and crying. Then the house went silent.
He waited till he was sure. He waited until the door slammed and the sobbing quieted to crawl from his room.
He wished he didn’t.
He found his mother lying on the floor in the hallway just outside his room.
There was blood trickling from her mouth, cuts and bruises all over her body.
“Mommy” the boy called. His mother moaned in pain.
“Mommy come on you have to get up so I can help you”
She groaned and got to her feet.
So the little boy took his mother to the bathroom to help her.
He left her there while he went to go get her clothes.
He came back with the happiest, biggest smile he could manage.
“Mommy” he called once again.
“It’s time for a bath!”

Afterwards, she sat on the toilet seat as her very young son cleaned her wounds and bandaged them.
When he was done and everything had been put away he kissed his mother on the cheek and whispered sweetly, “I love you”. He smiled sweetly and closed his eyes.
He felt the sting of his mother’s palm on his face.
“DON’T YOU LIE TO ME!” she yelled in a fit of rage.
Her very young son looked into his mother’s eyes and smiled sadly, leaving his mother behind.
He put on his little coat and shoes, and walked out into the rain.
He walked, and walked until he reached a certain house with worn shutters and an unkempt lawn.
He snuck to the side of the house and climbed a tree leading up to a certain worn window with green drapes.
He knocked on this certain window and lifted the frame.
The certain window opened and he stepped into a room, where a small figure slept.
The little boy tool off his shoes and coat and made his way over to the bed, slipping in next to the other figure.
The figure awoke and whispered, “They fought again huh, Frank?” Frank nodded.
The figure turned around and pulled him close. Frank looked up to see tear tracks in the other’s eyes.
“You miss him, again, huh Gerard?” Gerard nodded.”Frankie?”
“Yeah, Gee?”
“I don’t want to go to sleep” Frankie looked up, hoping to catch Gerard’s eye, it was no use. He had slipped down the rabbit’s hole again.
“Did you have another bad dream?”
Gerard nodded.
“I miss Him Frank… He told me I could join him soon.” Gerard’s eyes lit up as he spoke the last sentence.
“No, Gerard, Don’t leave me here alone.” Frank teared up.
“But, Frank, I’m so tired” Gerard said sadly.
“Then sleep, Gee. Just sleep”.