Strictly Forbidden
Old Scars
Frank’s POV
When the bell rings I catch a glimpse of Gerard in the hallway since our classes aren’t all that far apart. He speed walks past everybody like he’s late for something, quick echoing footsteps just a little faster than the majority of everybody else’s. I decide not to bother getting him to notice me because of how focused he is on getting to his destination which appears to be the parking lot. I scan it and spot their car in the fourth row, which is when it clicks. Donna is driving both Gerard and Mikey to and from school so that my Gee and I can’t interact. I try to make myself as small as possible, veiling my face behind my fringe to hide the tears while I shuffle through the halls, hoping not to attract any attention to myself.
Unfortunately, that plan fails. Somebody taps me on the shoulder and when I whirl around to check who it was one of the other attackers grab me roughly by the upper arm and practically drags me to the edge of the hallway and then into a bathroom. I'm honestly quite surprised no one has objected to me being abducted, but then again they were rather swift about it.
I get tossed onto the tiles, skidding a little and I'm pretty sure the knee of my jeans just ripped open on loose tile. Man this high school is shitty. Still staying on the floor I tentatively raise my eyes to check who the bullies are this time. Some random senior jock-type guy stands towering over me with his equally mutt looking partner in crime.
Except, he isn’t really just a random senior come to harass me out of nowhere. I know him all too well.
“How’s my favourite emo faggot going?” he spits, literally spits, at me. I flick away a disgusting glob of saliva that landed on my body but keep quiet.
“You and your poof of a boyfriend have a little tiff, did ya?” his counterpart leers.
“Yeah, did he fuck you too hard in your prissy little too-good-for-you ass?” the senior smirks.
“Oh what, like you did back in ninth grade?” I quip, then smack my hand over my mouth. Oh shit, I am in for it.
The senior narrows his eyes at me, the other one flicking his gaze between us two in confusion. Then he kicks me right in the stomach, and hard. His buddy snaps out of his trance and joins in, both of them dealing me blows all over and hurling insults. Pain resonates from pretty much everywhere, making me groan and yelp with every hit. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth as they kick my head, face, stomach, everywhere. I sputter out droplets of blood as they keep kicking me with a fair share of force. It dribbles down my chin, staining the already grimy grey tiles.
Out of nowhere they inexplicably back off, stepping a couple feet away from me. I can’t see anything past my direct line of vision which is level with the floor. I see blood spattered across the tops of their shoes.
“Stand up,” the senior roughly instructs.
“Stand up,” Jacob says harshly. I whimper like the coward I am, too afraid to do anything to defend myself. I don’t deserve to get treated like this but it’s not like there’s anything I can do until he decides he doesn’t want me as a fuck buddy anymore. No, that’s stupid anyways. Jacob loves me. He’s said it before. He says it lots and he means it. Jacob loves you, Frank, I try to convince myself.
“Stand. Up.” He repeats more coarsely.
I heave myself onto all fours, rocking back and forth on my hands and knees to gain momentum to get on my feet. I have to ignore the shooting pain in my lower back otherwise I’ll get nowhere.
Once on my feet in an awful lot of pain, Jacob realises that I am, in fact, hurt. His face immediately softens into a worried expression.
“You alright, Frankie baby?”
I force a raspy ‘mhm’ noise, really the only thing I'm capable of doing.
“You know, if you hadn't disobeyed me you wouldn't be in this sort of pain. You should know better by now, really.”
I nod mutely with teary eyes, not meeting his suddenly hardened glare.
He lifts my chin with one warm finger, fixing me in a gaze. “I love you Frankie, but you need to watch it. It's not like I can control my temper, so you have to be careful okay?”
I search his eyes, tricking myself into believing that they are filled with regret and remorse. There’s no way he could have done that on purpose, or with a clear conscience. He loves me too much. Right?
I just nod again like a puppet on a string.
He lets go of my face and slaps me pitilessly, earning a squeak from me.
“Answer me, you stupid worthless slut!”
“Y-yes,” I choke out.
“Good. Now,” he gestures downwards and pushes on my shoulders until my knees buckle and my face is right near his crotch. Oh Lord help me.
I drag myself to my knees, tears flowing down my cheeks. My breathing is raspy, quickening, and all too soon I find myself in a full blown, bona fide panic attack just like the ones I used to have. I thought they had stopped, but obviously not. God dammit I am so fucking weak!
Memories of that awful period flood my system. I can’t stay on my feet, I can’t, I'm falling to the ground and it hurts as my body jars in response to the impact but I can’t feel it. All I can feel is that too familiar sensation of his hands on me, all over my body, touching me and it’s suffocating. I have to get out. My chest is heaving, I'm frantically searching for air but I can’t find it. Everything is shaky and shaking. The boys give me a strange glance, each of them an eyebrow raised. I roll myself into a ball on the floor, tucking my knees up to my chest in an attempt to find calm.
All it does it restrict my breathing even more but I don’t care. I feel safe in this position, or safer than before. I wrap arms around myself tighter and tighter and tighter until my muscles ache from the exertion. I let out gasping noises, dry wracking sobs. The two bullies simply walk off, calling out a ‘see you!’ followed by more abusive terms.
It takes me about twenty minutes till I can peel myself off the floor, in which time the school is completely deserted. Thank fully, since the receptionists are still here, the school hasn’t locked up yet. I am still shaking when I begin the walk home. I really need something to relax me so I reach into my bag and pull out my box of cigarettes and my black lighter, fumbling them with my fingers and light up. I only burn myself once. I chain smoke, one hand holding the cigarette to my face and the other skim my fingers over the roller, turning the lighter on off, on off, on off. The wavering flame soothes me; the way it flickers entrances me. I focus my eyes on that and only that. Any shaking eventually slows to a stop.
Since I left to walk the long path around the other side of the school it takes an extra twenty minutes on top of my normal fifteen minutes to get home. When I walk in the door it’s oddly silent, no office chair rolling across the ceiling or heels clopping around. It’s revealed why when I read the note sitting on the kitchen table.
Frank,
Out at a meeting tonight.
Be back late. Get to bed early for school.
Mum x
I breathe a sigh of relief. This makes what I am about to do so much easier.
I hobble up the stairs, wincing every now and then due to pain. There are going to be some pretty bruises there tomorrow. I make it to my bathroom where I glare into the mirror. My hair is matted in places with blood, my lips are still bloodied and the bottom one is split. A red mark sits on my cheekbone, it smarts but doesn’t bleed. Underneath my shirt there’s no visible evidence of the beating apart from redness but that will have changed by tomorrow. Fucking Jacob ruining everything! I break down sobbing again and before I collapse reach into my drawer and pull out a shiny metal blade.
A nervous, anxious feeling twists in my gut and chest. It makes me feel flighty and weighted at the same time, adrenaline pounding through my veins as the reality of what I am about to do crashes onto my brain. I have a brief mental war – I haven’t cut since Gerard asked me out so it’ll hurt more 'coz I haven’t been doing it all that much recently, and what will mum say if she sees? – but I just squeeze my eyes shut and press the metal edge into my skin and drag.
And fuck that hurts however the blood pouring from my arteries more than makes up for it. I line it up again and drag blindly, letting out a hiss of pain. The knotted feeling in my chest grows stronger. I feel guilty and like I'm about to throw up so I draw lines over old scars with the blade again and again and again, ignoring the way it tugs and catches on my skin sometimes.
I open my eyes and peer down at my work. My wrist is completely slashed with shallow vertical slices. Beads of blood are forming and rolling away from the initial cuts to trickle along my arm. Droplets fall onto the bathroom floor but I'm not worried about it. I’ll clean it all up later. I make a few final slashes and then make myself drop the blade in case I hit a major vein or something and bleed out. I leave any remaining blood on the metal and just drop it into the drawer.
I whip my already bloodied shirt over my head and get changed into pajamas with long sleeves, not caring about the cuts on my arm still oozing liquid. Then I crawl into my bed, utterly worn out from the events of the day and try to fall asleep.
When the bell rings I catch a glimpse of Gerard in the hallway since our classes aren’t all that far apart. He speed walks past everybody like he’s late for something, quick echoing footsteps just a little faster than the majority of everybody else’s. I decide not to bother getting him to notice me because of how focused he is on getting to his destination which appears to be the parking lot. I scan it and spot their car in the fourth row, which is when it clicks. Donna is driving both Gerard and Mikey to and from school so that my Gee and I can’t interact. I try to make myself as small as possible, veiling my face behind my fringe to hide the tears while I shuffle through the halls, hoping not to attract any attention to myself.
Unfortunately, that plan fails. Somebody taps me on the shoulder and when I whirl around to check who it was one of the other attackers grab me roughly by the upper arm and practically drags me to the edge of the hallway and then into a bathroom. I'm honestly quite surprised no one has objected to me being abducted, but then again they were rather swift about it.
I get tossed onto the tiles, skidding a little and I'm pretty sure the knee of my jeans just ripped open on loose tile. Man this high school is shitty. Still staying on the floor I tentatively raise my eyes to check who the bullies are this time. Some random senior jock-type guy stands towering over me with his equally mutt looking partner in crime.
Except, he isn’t really just a random senior come to harass me out of nowhere. I know him all too well.
“How’s my favourite emo faggot going?” he spits, literally spits, at me. I flick away a disgusting glob of saliva that landed on my body but keep quiet.
“You and your poof of a boyfriend have a little tiff, did ya?” his counterpart leers.
“Yeah, did he fuck you too hard in your prissy little too-good-for-you ass?” the senior smirks.
“Oh what, like you did back in ninth grade?” I quip, then smack my hand over my mouth. Oh shit, I am in for it.
The senior narrows his eyes at me, the other one flicking his gaze between us two in confusion. Then he kicks me right in the stomach, and hard. His buddy snaps out of his trance and joins in, both of them dealing me blows all over and hurling insults. Pain resonates from pretty much everywhere, making me groan and yelp with every hit. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth as they kick my head, face, stomach, everywhere. I sputter out droplets of blood as they keep kicking me with a fair share of force. It dribbles down my chin, staining the already grimy grey tiles.
Out of nowhere they inexplicably back off, stepping a couple feet away from me. I can’t see anything past my direct line of vision which is level with the floor. I see blood spattered across the tops of their shoes.
“Stand up,” the senior roughly instructs.
“Stand up,” Jacob says harshly. I whimper like the coward I am, too afraid to do anything to defend myself. I don’t deserve to get treated like this but it’s not like there’s anything I can do until he decides he doesn’t want me as a fuck buddy anymore. No, that’s stupid anyways. Jacob loves me. He’s said it before. He says it lots and he means it. Jacob loves you, Frank, I try to convince myself.
“Stand. Up.” He repeats more coarsely.
I heave myself onto all fours, rocking back and forth on my hands and knees to gain momentum to get on my feet. I have to ignore the shooting pain in my lower back otherwise I’ll get nowhere.
Once on my feet in an awful lot of pain, Jacob realises that I am, in fact, hurt. His face immediately softens into a worried expression.
“You alright, Frankie baby?”
I force a raspy ‘mhm’ noise, really the only thing I'm capable of doing.
“You know, if you hadn't disobeyed me you wouldn't be in this sort of pain. You should know better by now, really.”
I nod mutely with teary eyes, not meeting his suddenly hardened glare.
He lifts my chin with one warm finger, fixing me in a gaze. “I love you Frankie, but you need to watch it. It's not like I can control my temper, so you have to be careful okay?”
I search his eyes, tricking myself into believing that they are filled with regret and remorse. There’s no way he could have done that on purpose, or with a clear conscience. He loves me too much. Right?
I just nod again like a puppet on a string.
He lets go of my face and slaps me pitilessly, earning a squeak from me.
“Answer me, you stupid worthless slut!”
“Y-yes,” I choke out.
“Good. Now,” he gestures downwards and pushes on my shoulders until my knees buckle and my face is right near his crotch. Oh Lord help me.
I drag myself to my knees, tears flowing down my cheeks. My breathing is raspy, quickening, and all too soon I find myself in a full blown, bona fide panic attack just like the ones I used to have. I thought they had stopped, but obviously not. God dammit I am so fucking weak!
Memories of that awful period flood my system. I can’t stay on my feet, I can’t, I'm falling to the ground and it hurts as my body jars in response to the impact but I can’t feel it. All I can feel is that too familiar sensation of his hands on me, all over my body, touching me and it’s suffocating. I have to get out. My chest is heaving, I'm frantically searching for air but I can’t find it. Everything is shaky and shaking. The boys give me a strange glance, each of them an eyebrow raised. I roll myself into a ball on the floor, tucking my knees up to my chest in an attempt to find calm.
All it does it restrict my breathing even more but I don’t care. I feel safe in this position, or safer than before. I wrap arms around myself tighter and tighter and tighter until my muscles ache from the exertion. I let out gasping noises, dry wracking sobs. The two bullies simply walk off, calling out a ‘see you!’ followed by more abusive terms.
It takes me about twenty minutes till I can peel myself off the floor, in which time the school is completely deserted. Thank fully, since the receptionists are still here, the school hasn’t locked up yet. I am still shaking when I begin the walk home. I really need something to relax me so I reach into my bag and pull out my box of cigarettes and my black lighter, fumbling them with my fingers and light up. I only burn myself once. I chain smoke, one hand holding the cigarette to my face and the other skim my fingers over the roller, turning the lighter on off, on off, on off. The wavering flame soothes me; the way it flickers entrances me. I focus my eyes on that and only that. Any shaking eventually slows to a stop.
Since I left to walk the long path around the other side of the school it takes an extra twenty minutes on top of my normal fifteen minutes to get home. When I walk in the door it’s oddly silent, no office chair rolling across the ceiling or heels clopping around. It’s revealed why when I read the note sitting on the kitchen table.
Frank,
Out at a meeting tonight.
Be back late. Get to bed early for school.
Mum x
I breathe a sigh of relief. This makes what I am about to do so much easier.
I hobble up the stairs, wincing every now and then due to pain. There are going to be some pretty bruises there tomorrow. I make it to my bathroom where I glare into the mirror. My hair is matted in places with blood, my lips are still bloodied and the bottom one is split. A red mark sits on my cheekbone, it smarts but doesn’t bleed. Underneath my shirt there’s no visible evidence of the beating apart from redness but that will have changed by tomorrow. Fucking Jacob ruining everything! I break down sobbing again and before I collapse reach into my drawer and pull out a shiny metal blade.
A nervous, anxious feeling twists in my gut and chest. It makes me feel flighty and weighted at the same time, adrenaline pounding through my veins as the reality of what I am about to do crashes onto my brain. I have a brief mental war – I haven’t cut since Gerard asked me out so it’ll hurt more 'coz I haven’t been doing it all that much recently, and what will mum say if she sees? – but I just squeeze my eyes shut and press the metal edge into my skin and drag.
And fuck that hurts however the blood pouring from my arteries more than makes up for it. I line it up again and drag blindly, letting out a hiss of pain. The knotted feeling in my chest grows stronger. I feel guilty and like I'm about to throw up so I draw lines over old scars with the blade again and again and again, ignoring the way it tugs and catches on my skin sometimes.
I open my eyes and peer down at my work. My wrist is completely slashed with shallow vertical slices. Beads of blood are forming and rolling away from the initial cuts to trickle along my arm. Droplets fall onto the bathroom floor but I'm not worried about it. I’ll clean it all up later. I make a few final slashes and then make myself drop the blade in case I hit a major vein or something and bleed out. I leave any remaining blood on the metal and just drop it into the drawer.
I whip my already bloodied shirt over my head and get changed into pajamas with long sleeves, not caring about the cuts on my arm still oozing liquid. Then I crawl into my bed, utterly worn out from the events of the day and try to fall asleep.
Notes
I really want them to be happy and I'm the one writing this story oh gosh
Sorry this is kinda crappy I tried
- Run Bunny x
@cellabration-af
@Left Shark
Thank you! I'm really sorry it took so long, I use google to sign in and I was locked out of my google account and now the google connect or whatever is used to login to this site is outdated and yeah :// I'm just glad I could finish it and get back into my account!
6/8/15