Forget About The Dirty Looks.

Frank's POV
Day eight.
Fuck this. Fuck this fucking whole fucking thing. Fuck him, Fuck my broken hands. Fuck everything. I don't even care anymore, just fucking kill me. Hand me the fucking gun or whatever and I'll fucking do it! My mindset is determined on death, so that's what it's going to fucking get. I've been pacing the floor for abut an hour. Trying to think of ways to just fucking die, trying to think of ways to fucking get out of here.
After getting my fingers broken and shit, I got about a two hours rest before I was back up there. The tops of my legs and the area around my skin has basically been cooked. My thumb on my left hand, which didn't get broke, is now broken. My face is literally just a bruise, and I don't think there is a patch of skin that isn't purple or green or blue. I feel like shit, but the adrenaline pumping round my body, that's wholly being fueled by anger, isn't letting me feel the full extent of my pain.
I could try and pick the lock? Nothing to pick it with.. Unless, I look for something. I search the ground, going over every part of the dirty floor. Nothing. Nothing at all.
"Frank, what are you doing?" My mom's voice is weak. I think she's dying, she hasn't eaten properly for probably longer than me. She gets hurt worse than me, and he rapes her.
"Looking for something to," I drop my voice so it's at a whisper. "Pick the lock with, you got anything?" She starts to shake her head, but stops herself, her dull eyes lighting up a little.
"Yeah, I think I have a hairgrip.. Hold on!" She scrambles her hands in her hair, searching for the hairgrip. She lets out a small squeak of happiness and pulls one out. I grab it and make my way quietly to the door. I look through the key hole, searching for anything that might be alive. After seeing no-one, I drop to my knees and fiddle with the key hole. I just can't seem to pop the lock. I twist it the other way, and I hear the quiet click of the lock opening. I grin and pocket the hairgrip. The door handle is stiff, and I'm worried that it'll make noise. I turn it slowly, and open the door a crack. No lights are on, which I take as a good sigh. Taking a deep breath, I step into the hallway and close the door behind me. I creep towards the fucking white door and wait outside, listening for sound. I hear none, so I try the door. It isn't locked, and opens smoothly. I peer in, looking around. Nobody's in here, it's completely empty. I dash in, and shut the door behind me. I breathe a sigh of relief and lean back against the door. I wait and breath for a minute, trying to steady my nerves. I walk over to the draw and look through. I see a mobile phone, and I pick it up. There's battery and signal on it. I pocket it and look for something else. I find a gun, but no bullets, so I put it back.
Knowing I should find a weapon, I turn and scrutinize the walls. Should I choose the knives, the hammer... Look for bullets? I think, and decide to grab the hammer and one of the knives, the sharpest. I look in every drawer, cupboard in the room but there are no bullets. I give up and sit down on the chair. Something catches my eye. Matches. I should set the whole fucking place on fire, shouldn't I? First, though, I need to get my mom out of here. I slowly creep towards the door and open, looking out. Still no life out there, so I walk down the hallway, the hammer awkwardly in my broken hands. I get to the basement safely, and start down the stairs. I stop on the top step and I hear crying. I also hear a man's voice, one that sound exactly like him. My mom is begging for him to leave her alone, and he's asking her where I am. I've caused this, and I've got to stop it. The fighting reaches a level of harshness and I know I have to step in before it's too late.
"Where the fuck is he? Answer me now, bitch, or this bullet is going through your brain.." I hear a gun cock and I hear my mom whimper. I look over the Bannister and see he's got her in a choke-hold with the gun pressed to her temple. His back is to me, and it's the perfect time to strike.
"I-I don't know! I swear! He was here, then I fell asleep and he was gone! Please, just leave me alone.." I hear the laughter, and my blood runs cold. Something bad is about to happen, and my legs are stuck to the stairs.
"I don't believe you. Tell me where he is, now." She shakes her head, her lips clamped shut. He digs the gun in harder, and tears escape her eyes. She glances up and spots me. I probably look terrified, but her eyes light up.
'I love you' she mouths at me and my tears escape my eyes. We just stare at each other, knowing this will be the last time we'll see each other.
"Okay, well, you asked for it. Goodbye, Linda." He waits for a second, long enough for her to mouth the three words at me again, and I back to her. The gunshot rings through and she slumps to the ground. A dark, crimson liquid pools at her head and spreads around. I grip the bannister to stop myself from collapsing. I let go of the hammer, causing it to thud on the ground, and the noise resonates round the room. He spins round almost immediately, eyes searching for whatever it was that made the sound. We lock eyes, and I stick my finger up at him and run away, on shaky legs. I run down dark corridors, taking endless lefts and rights.
I see a door partially open and run inside, shutting it behind me. I'm breathless from running, and I can't control it. My hands clamp over my mouth and I stop breathing altogether. I hear heavy footstep running near the door. I blindly search around the room, looking for a hiding place or somewhere to escape from. My mind still hasn't registered the fact that I just saw my mom be shot in the temple, and dying in front of me, and I'm thankful for that.
In the room, there is a bed and a wardrobe. I take a dive for the bed, and scramble under it. The door opens seconds after I'm partially settled, and I hear the heavy breathing of someone murderous.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are, Frankie..." He walks to the wardrobe and opens it. I sneak out of the side of the bed and stand behind him. I raise my hands over my head, the knife in my hands. I'm shaking and I bring it down on his lower back, probably piercing one is his kidney's. I waste no time in pulling it out and bringing it down again, and again, and again. He screams out in pain, and I smile. He turns around and I kick him in the balls, making him sink to the floor. I bring the knife down again, right in the middle of his stomach. Blood is everywhere. It's all over him, the bed, the wardrobe and me. I stab again, getting his arm. Again, hitting his chest. Again, in his throat. He chokes on the blood, and the red liquid runs from his wounds and his lips at a fierce rate. I smile at him. I hope my smile tortures him as much as his did me.
"Fuck you. Fucking fuck you, you fucking... fuck-wad!" For every word beginning with an 'F' I stab at him. I twist the knife on my way out, surprised as to how he's not dead yet. I stab once me, in his hand, and leave the knife there.
"Goodbye, Frank." I walk out, leaving him there, and try to find the white door. I do, and I grab the matches. I grab the Vodka I saw earlier and take a few gulps, liking how it burns my throat. I laugh and take off my already tattered shirt. I soak it in the alcohol and stopper the neck of the bottle with it. I walk out and try to find the door. Luckily, it's a two second walk, and it's unlocked.
When I step out, the bright light blinds me for a second. I look down and rub my eyes, groaning. Once being able to see again, I pull the box of matches out of my pocket. I grin at it and pull one out. I strike it, enchanted by the bright flame. I stub it out, and try to find the room's window that my dad is lying in, hopefully not dead yet. I do, and I can tell by the murderous threats toward me spewing out of it. I use a piece of wood I found to break it, and I get out another match.
"Frank, you little shit! I'm going to kill you!" His voice is chocked, and it sounds like he's gargling. Must be from the blood in his throat.
"Are you? I think it's going to be the other way round, if I'm honest.." His head spins round and he lock eyes with me. They are feral and the pupil are blown-out. He' dying, and he should be dead in about five minutes. I put the match to the bottle, making sure he can see it. He sure does, and his eyes widen.
"Noo.. Ple-Please.. do-don't.." His words are drawn out, elongated. I smile at him and nod. He shakes his head, starting to shake. I set the match onto the cloth, and throw the bottle in. It goes up in flames immediately, and I start to run, laughing as I do.
I sit on a grass verge and watch the house go up in flames. I could hear his scrams for a while, but after a chocked drawn-out one, they stopped. I haven't stopped smiling since it happened, and I don't plan to. It's dark now, and the flames look so pretty dancing around, the night sky a back-drop for it. Almost as pretty as Gerard.
Gerard! I can call him! I'm free, I can do whatever the fuck I want! I fumble in my pockets and bring out the phone with shaking hands. I dial the number and get it wrong. I dial it again, more careful. The phone rings. And rings. Finally, I hear his voice.
"Hello, this is Gerard's-"
"Gee? It's me, Frankie!" I then realize that this is his voice-mail. Bitter disappointment twists through my insides, causing tears to well up. I hang up, and dial again. I get the voice-mail, again. I hand up and re-dial. I'm about to hand up again, when somebody answers.
"Hello? Who is this?" It's a woman's voice, and it sounds familiar.
"Hello, is Gerard there? It's Frank.." I hear a gasp over the phone and a stunned laugh, which is cut of as suddenly as it started.
"No, I'm sorry, sweetie, Gerard's in hospital. Frank, it's Donna Way? Gerard and Mikey's mom?" Gerard's in hospital? Why? Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
"What? Why the fuck is he in hospital? Oh shit!" My voice breaks, and I start to cry.
"He... He tried to commit suicide, Frank, and he's.. He's in.. a, a coma." She breaks down as well, and we spend endless minutes just crying over the phone to each other, neither able to speak.
It feels like my whole world has come crumbling down, and that my heart has just been ripped out of my chest.I hang up, and scream at the night. Fucking fuck this fucking shit.

Notes

Second chapter today! I'm trying to edit the one before my laptop's being a little shit and won't let me at the minute.
I hope you like this! Comment and shit xo