Gerard’s POV

When I get to my bedroom I carefully place a CD into the player and skip to hallway through the album, so it seems like I’ve been here for a while and not upstairs. I don’t want my father forbidding me from interacting with Mikey, too, because he thinks I’d….Well, I don’t really want to know what kind of sick things he would be thinking I would do. They should know I’d never hurt Mikey.

It occurs to me that I might need to get out of here tonight, thanks to my little freak out at the psychologist’s clinic. I open my closet and find a red backpack I used to use for school. One of the straps is starting to fray but it’ll have to do. I stuff it with clothes, my toothbrush, phone, pajamas and my sketchpad. That’s really all it can hold. I chuck it back into the closet and shut the door just in case anyone spots it and guesses at what it’s for.

I flop onto my bed and lie there with closed eyes for a while. I think I eventually fall into a kind of half sleep, because I am quite startled when someone bursts into my room.
“Dinner is ready,” Don says forcefully. “Why haven’t you been doing your homework?” he asks incredulously.
“I didn’t have any today,” I mutter. He narrows his eyes at me and then slams the door on his way out.

I follow behind him a couple seconds later and close the door less wrathfully than he did. It makes a soft click noise to let me know its shut. My fingers linger sadly on the doorknob while I walk away.


Sitting at the dinner is awkward. Almost no one speaks and we nearly get through the entire meal without sound - except for the clinking of cutlery - when father starts to speak.
“How was your day, Gerard? Did you meet your monitor?”
I swallow nervously. Everything about my dad’s new attitude is giving me the wrong kind of vibes. Though he is trying to sound casual, there’s a venomous tone underneath the niceness that sets me on edge.
“Yes I did. My day was good.” I try to reply vaguely.
“And how did your session go with the psychologist?” His jaw is clenched tight, making his words strained and pinched. I watch the muscles of his jowl flex menacingly, discomforting myself unnecessarily for what should be a simple answer.
“It was good, also. We finished early.” I can feel my voice shaking so I take a deep breath and compel myself to stop quivering.
“Hm, well in spite of what you’ve said Dr Leonard reported it was anything but good. In fact, he said that you threatened him!” He expels a short bark of laughter. “Isn’t that funny!”

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit! I am so fucked.

Mikey looks at me with terror written over his usually expressionless face. He communicates with me through a series of trivial movements, asking why I would do something like that. Donna cocks her head to the side, lips drawn in an ominous smile tight and pursed.
“Is that so?” She remarks, punctuating every sharp word.
“Yes. In fact, I have his report right here. Would you like me to read it to you?” Don questions rhetorically. He takes a folder from his lap and flips it to a marked page. Then he begins to read, voice once again taking on that venomous tone and rising in pitch as the details progress.

“I introduced myself and then asked Gerard why he thought he was sent to me, he didn’t respond other than to shake his head. I explained why, and he interrupted me to interject that he ‘is’ dating a boy, rather than ‘was’. I attempted to discuss with him how his actions are wrong, however he challenged me with a ridiculous notion of scientific description. He also tried to force me into admitting that I believe he shouldn’t be happy. Gerard believes that the abominable thing he feels with another boy is ‘love’. Gerard seemed unable to realise that what he is doing is repulsive and immoral. When I told him that if he does not repent and go back to God he may end up in hell, which isn’t desirable. He showed obvious signs of anger and distress before he lunged at me and said: “You bet I’m going to hell. I've even got my own place reserved for me on the throne. So see you there, **insulting curse word**.” Our receptionist also reported that he had made a derogatory sign at her with his finger on his way out. Explicitly he needs to be punished, and clearly has some emotional issues that will require being sorted through.”

“That’s interesting, right?” Don chuckles. A panicky laughter ripples around the table. It’s abruptly silenced when father smacks his hand flat against the table, a dark look in his eye.

His chair scrapes against the floor making a sickening noise as he stands. He reaches for his belt buckle, undoes it and then tugs on the end. It comes out of the loops restraining it back and Don cracks it at me darkly. A twisted smiles sneaks onto his face. I feel completely sick to my stomach. His hand shoots out over the others and grabs me by the collar, then hauls me away from the table. I get a last glimpse at Mikey, an expression of horror painted on his face.

Don drags me down the flight of stairs; my body bumps and whacks against every step. I have to fight to keep my mouth shut else I’ll get an even worse beating and that won’t go down too well at school. The counsellor’s been searching me out since two years ago when – Nope, nope, nope. So not going there.

Dad throws me against the carpet, face down, and I hear him cracking his belt. I wince and stiffen, trying to ready myself as much as possible for the inevitable impact. He lifts up the back of my shirt with cold hands in preparation.

Because I have my nose in the carpet I can’t see the initial impact coming, but I can hear it. The way the belt whistles as it sails through the air, the slight maniacal chuckle from my father. And then: impact. The cool leather collides with my skin, leaving a hot stinging burn where it struck. I gasp aloud and unintentionally half-scream. You know the kind where you want to make noise but you can’t, so it just comes out as a forced push of air? That kind of scream. I crinkle my face and push down on it, the carpet pressing into my skin so hard it hurts.

He brings it down on my back a second, third time, every new hit creating a new mark and drawing gasps and pained noises from me. The fourth and most vicious crack it draws blood and Don seems to relish in this. He whips me again in that same wound, droplets of blood spraying across my back and seeping into the leather. I feel the leather slick with my blood trail down my back which gives me shivers. He removes it and is about to go again when the doorbell rings.

“Don!” Donna calls shrilly. He drops the belt by my side and harshly instructs me not to move.
I wait until he has closed the door on me and then I jump up as best as I can, grab my backpack from the closet and slide through the window. Like last time I get stuck in the frame but with a couple wiggles I’m free and running around the side of the house. I pause outside Mikey’s room, deciding whether it’s worth it to interrupt him. I pick up a small pebble and chuck it at his window. The top of his head comes into sight, soon followed by the rest of him as he leans out.

His eyes widen when he sees me and looks like he’s about to say something so I hold up a finger to my lips, indicating for him to be quiet. He shuts his mouth again. I wave apologetically and jog away to the front of the house. That bastard better not touch Mikey.

I poke my head around the corner experimentally. No one seems to be there; the visitor must have either gone inside or gone home. I pray that it was the former; it gives me more time to escape.

I sprint away from my house and in the direction of Frankie’s praying for a miracle.


Eight minutes later and covered in sweat/blood I finally make it to the Iero household after having run the whole way here. I knock on the door, my heart doing the exact same thing. There’s no reply. I knock again, more urgently this time. I whip my head around, searching for any trace of movement. What if Don is following me? I knock insistently, not letting up. Adrenaline is still pumping through my veins and panic is starting to set in. I hear a vague noise from inside the house, then thumping as someone comes down the stairs. I continue looking over my shoulder, constantly on the lookout.

I feel the door disappear from underneath my knuckles so I look back around. A grumpy, sleepy Frank meets my eyes. When he sees the state I am in he gasps and pulls me inside by the elbow.
“Gee! Oh my gosh, did he do this to you?” Frankie asks urgently.
“Yeah,” I trail off. The panic is starting to settle, the adrenaline rush ebbing away leaving me utterly exhausted.
“Come upstairs, we’ll get you cleaned up.” Frank puts an arm around my back, helping me up the stairs. I don’t want to lean on him too much since he seems so small and fragile but he insists.

Frank leads me into the bathroom and props me up on the edge of the sink.
I let him peel away my shirt, not caring about him seeing me. The only time he gets a reaction out of me is when he applies the cold, stinging solution to clean the lacerations from the belt.
“Frankie baby, you make an excellent nurse but fuck that burns,” I gasp out.
“Hm, maybe I should go change into my sexy nurse outfit just for you then,” he wiggles his hips suggestively at me then winks, making me burst out in laughter.
“Well does it come with a lacy bra and knickers?” I ask sarcastically.
“Of course! Nothing’s complete without provocative undergarments. Stethoscope too,” He replies sassily. We both laugh at the stupidity of the image.
“Tease,” I say. Frankie pokes his tongue out at me and pulls a twisted face.
We fall silent after that, Nurse Frankie working on disinfecting my wounds. When he finishes I get changed and crawl into bed next to him. I roll onto my side to face him and tuck my arm under his light body. He shuffles in towards me, lifts a finger to trace imaginary lines over my face and the outline of my lips. Then he leans in to place a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth before we both fall asleep.

Notes

So they're safe for now....That sounds threatening, I'm sorry
How are you guys going?

- Run Bunny x