Frank was sitting on a rock. It was his favourite rock out of all the ones he had ever seen. It was three feet long and two feet high with fuzzy green moss growing on the side of the rock. The top was flat and a light grey colour, perfect for Frank to spend his time sitting on. The boy sat cross legged in the afternoon sun, gazing at all the rocks he was surrounded by. The landscape was mainly rocks of various shapes and sizes with the odd small patch of grass amongst them. The horizon was dominated by large mountains as opposed to the orange skies overhead which were covered in thick smoke.

The rock was is favourite place, he felt safer sitting there more than anywhere else. Definitely more than at the house. The house was huge and stood out from the surrounding landscape considerably. It was made of red speckled brick and reflective metal sheets in various places. The metal made Frank feel cold and alone even though the house itself should make him feel warm and comfortable. As the sun began to slip behind the mountains, Frank made his way back to the house. His rock was a fifteen minute walk from the house which required a lot of climbing over boulders or paths which were long forgotten by most.

Frank eventually trudged up the path to the steel door. His head wasn't even at the height of the door handle. As a result, he had to knock on the door in order to enter the building. He tapped lightly on the door, partially hoping that he wouldn't answer the door even though a night outside was less than appealing to the small boy. The door swung open slowly with a low groan of the hinges to reveal a tall man. Frank can't see his face but he knows that the man scares him. He hears shouting even though he can't understand what is being said before he feels himself being pulled through the doorway. He struggles against the hold on his arm but it's useless. All he can do is scream for help that won't come.

****

Frank opened his eyes to darkness but he could feel that he was lying on something cool, probably metal. He turned his head to figure out where he was and spotted a large metal contraption which he recognised was the boiler. Frank's eyed widened and he began to panic as he realised he was in the basement of the house. He tried to sit up but found he was strapped to the metal table. His breathing became shallow as he heard a door open and footsteps come towards him. Dark figures loomed over him as he tried not to scream for help, they made it worse for him when he begged.

The light above him made the instruments they held sparkled in the light, reflecting on the sharp edges of knives and needles. Frank gulped and tried to squirm away from the dark figures to no avail. He felt pain in his arm and looked down to see a needle in his skin. The figures laughed as his eyelids became heavy and he eventually passed out to a whirring sound.

****

When Frank woke up he was still in the basement, but was lying on the floor instead of a table. He ached everywhere, his head was the worst. His brain was pounding in his skull like someone was hitting it with a hammer. Frank groaned and curled into a fetal position but immediately regretted the movement as searing pain shot up his spine. He cried out at the pain but quickly shut his mouth so he wouldn't attract any attention to himself from the people upstairs. As he lay on the floor crying softly, he found himself wishing that he was anywhere else but here. He wished he didn't have to go through pain all the time and he wished there was someone his age around, no four year olds should be alone in a place with no friends.....

****

Frank opened his eyes slowly. He was in a small room with large crates pushed against the walls. The room was bright due to the fluorescent lights on the ceiling which make Frank squint. The back of his head was sore as well as his jaw. He remembered being pulled along by some random people with guns to a cargo hold, and he remembers being punched which would be why his jaw hurt, but he can't remember anything after that. He was sitting with a chair but felt resistance on his wrists when he tried to move. Glancing down he saw thick ropes keeping his arms and ankles anchored to the chair.

Frank sighed heavily. He was beginning to hate waking up in a new place while tied to a chair. He wasn't some kind of damsel in distress who needed rescuing. Except that, well, he did need rescuing but he had no idea who from this time.

Notes

A bit on Frank's history, it'll get better I promise.
In case I didn't say very well, this chapter is meant to be when Frank is 4ish years old

Next chapter will have Gerard in it as well as Patrick and Pete :)