All the smiles that’ll forever haunt me

Life is never easy for anyone, how could it be? The most painful thing in life is surely life itself. The regrets, the pain people inflict on you, the worry for our futures and for some, the lack of one. Life is not easy. Of course, I’m only speaking from first-hand experience but this is how I interpret the world and it is a dark and endless pit for me. Many attempt to comfort me telling me ‘life will get better’ or ‘give it some time’ but I first fell into the darkness at 11 years old even though I was completely unaware of it. It wasn’t until I was 16 had I started taking actions to really put myself into the darkness itself, turning to self-infliction, alcohol, continuous amounts of cigarettes and the few pills here and there. I didn’t understand how or why I could be so…low but at the same time; thoughts constantly circled my mind, like ravens circling the lonely scarecrow within a golden field.

I had tried to take my own life…many times but I was either interrupted or too drunk to keep the blade at my wrist. I was now 22, a failing artist and hoped musician. My imagination liked to run wild but all too soon I was brought back down to reality to live with the mess which was called my life. I couldn’t think of a way out, I didn’t know how to get out but I saw a slight hope when I had met an unconventional character three years ago who goes by the name of Frank Iero.

Walking alone in the streets of London, my mind completely focused on nothing, I gripped tightly to my sketchbook trying to shield it from the heavy down pour of rain that fell from above me. I myself had no issue of getting soaked in the rain seeing as it was my favourite kind of weather, snow closely falling behind in second place, but the sketches had taken forever to draw while I sat in the middle of Haymarket only twenty minutes before. As the busy bustle of London pushed passed, ignoring my existence I felt…shall I say content? I hated attention; especially attention directed at me, that’s why I never understood birthdays – why would someone want all that attention on them anyway?

I always remembered being forced to do school and college presentations in which I would always choke or vomit from, signalling an outburst from my fellow classmates as they shook their head in disgust towards me. I had always warned my teachers that I would vomit or choke or literally break down because of my anxiety but they would always reply - “Don’t think you’re getting out of this, I’ve heard all the excuses.” And when I had done one of the three (or even all of them) they would always pretend to act concerned – “Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t feel well?” and then when another presentation was due, they would shout at me again and put me with the bullies (who were seen as the angels by the teachers and me the troublemaker) who then made me do all the work or as they put it, they would beat the ‘shit’ out of me after school if it didn’t. They didn’t need an excuse, they did it anyway. It was a vicious circle in which I was always stuck right in the middle of, it was awful, and I couldn’t talk to anyone about it.

Feeling the rain lighten it’s a load a little, I lifted my head slightly, pulling down my hood when a shoulder suddenly bashed into my own causing me to fall painfully onto the floor, the impact triggering my elbow to go into spasms as I cursed profusely.
“Fuck!” the voice said above me as I gripped my elbow.

“Shit I am so sorry!” the guy spoke as he gripped my ‘good’ elbow and brought me too my feet, wiping off my shoulders lightly but it felt painful knowing bruises were about to explode across my pale body.

“It’s fine.” I mumbled reaching down to pick up my headphones and sketchbook quickly, hoping the drawings weren’t ruined. I wasn’t angry at the guy however quite surprised that he even apologised, not a lot of people did…to me practically no one did.

“It’s not…” he sighed. “Fuck…” it was then that I heard the American voice surge from him and I looked up to see a man a few inches smaller than me with an apologetic look about him with his hands shoved into his pockets.

“No, I’m sorry; I wasn’t looking where I was going.” I blabbered to the brown eyed boy. A smile broke out across his features almost making me think of a happy squirrel…strange.

“Ah hell it was me who pushed you to the ground.” He laughed. I smiled pathetically trying to show my humour but somehow, it hurt my lip to smile. I lifted a hand to my lip only to find a pin drop of blood run down my finger. “And shit I even made you bleed.” he continued.

“You wouldn’t be the first.” I muttered and his eyebrows furrowed against one another. I dismissed the comment with a wave of my hand.

“It’s fine, honestly.” I smiled. Again he nodded and continued to apologise.

“I’m Frank, Frank Iero by the way.” he shoved his hand forward eagerly awaiting me to take it. Placing the sketchbook under my arm, I placed my hand in his and shook it.

“Winona Winters.” I smiled shyly; I was awful at introducing myself.

“Good to meet you winters!” he exclaimed pulling back his hand. “Hey can you point me in the direction of a good coffee shop? I’m fuckin’ desperate for one and I can’t find one anywhere, you could join me if you want?” I looked at my watch carefully as in not to show any of the scars on my wrist and sighed thoughtfully.

“I’ll pay!” he beamed. Not that I didn’t want to go with Frank but technically I wasn’t actually supposed to be here in London. My parents thought I’d gone round a ‘friends’ which made me laugh because they thought I actually had some. I told them I would be back by 7 which would be impossible by now so I nodded enthusiastically.

“Awesome!” he held up his hand waiting for me to give him a high five. I looked at him confused by his own enthusiasm as I brought my hand up to meet his. “I’m gonna have to teach you how to high five properly.” He shook his head disapprovingly as he followed me down the streets of Haymarket.

And that’s how I met Frank, my ultimate best friend and only friend…he was more of a brother to me than my own by blood. We spoke in the coffee shop for hours and then went to a bar seeing as it was a Saturday and it seemed appropriate. He told me he was in London with his parents, while they went to the traditional places like the London Eye and Buckingham palace, Frank said he wandered aimlessly. He was a bit like me in that sense, neither of us liked making plans, for me, it was because I was scared of the future.

As the alcohol continued to course through our veins, he began constantly shoving this picture he had in his front pocket of him and his girlfriend…that guy was hooked. I laughed as at moments he pouted every time he said her name, even calling her every time I would take a swig of my drink which I must admit was constant.

It was one of the best nights of my life but a pain to get home as I sobered up on the train at 3 o’clock in the morning, my head beginning to bang and my mouth slowly becoming dry. I didn’t make it home until 5 with which Frank told me to call him. As I called he picked up annoyingly and hissed into the phone.

“What?” He didn’t know who it was as I hadn’t given him my own number. He must have thought it was a friend of his from the states calling him at this ungodly hour.

“Good morning Frankie!” I whispered as I crawled up the stairs and to my room.

“Oh Hey! You make it home okay?” he slurred.

“Yeah…crawling into bed as we speak!”

“The parents didn’t catch you?” he asked surprised as we both heard a loud bang, annoyingly coming from my end of the phone.

“I fear they may have now.”

“Oh well! Just give ‘em the finger and get your ass back up to London tomorrow, you said you bought a weekly right?” he continued.

“Yep.” I said emphasising the ‘p’ sound.

“Cool, I’ll catch you tomorrow!”

“See ya!” and with that, I hung up and of course, the following morning the parents caught me. This time I told them where I was going and there was nothing they could do to stop me. I was 19 for goodness sake but they held me in chains but at the same time, were willing to get rid of me.

That night Frank and I practically told each other our life stories and how we got to where we were today. I would never have told him sober but what we both had in common I didn’t like - we were bullied profusely at school, it’s a horrible feeling. He didn’t know I had taken drugs and that I self-harmed but in the years we’ve known each other, we now know each other inside out.

He only spent a week in London and I was sad to see him go. I met the Iero’s and they were the sweetest people ever, nothing like my parents. Over the three years, Frank had only visited 3 times but stayed for at least a month with me in my house or in my dorm at uni, which my parents were not pleased about but it didn’t bother me.

Both my siblings were at University and I attempted it and failed...well dropped out because of ‘bullying’ really. I was doing well in Art and I was proud of my work but I was laughed at constantly heightening my anxiety and making me feel worse causing my cutting to begin again …I couldn’t get away from the judgement.
Frank and I called each other once a week, never breaking the contact. He would make me feel better about my shitty life and my family while continuing about how his music was coming along…that’s the reason I’m on a plane now.

Notes

A/N – So here’s the first chapter, hope it wasn’t awful!