The Bandit's Secret

"Mom! You can't go back on tour with your band! I need you!" I yelled. I was standing in the doorway of my mother's bedroom. She was packing for her next tour with Mindless Self Indulgence, meaning that I would be left to my own devices.

"We need the money, so I can put food on the table, pay bills, and any other living necessities. I know, it sucks, but Gerard and I are doing the best we can," she explained, shoving more clothes into her carry-on.

"It's just not fair how I have to be left alone. Yes, the nanny checks in on me and sometimes uncle Mikey or Frank, but other than that, I'm abandoned while you and Dad are off having the greatest times of your lives." I was beginning to grow very angry, and when that happens, I start crying. My mother's lipstick wasn't the only thing I was seeing that consisted of the color red.

"How dare you say we abandon you! We call you almost every night, make efforts to come see you when we have the time, etc. Abandoning you would be leaving you to do everything for yourself, including paying our debts. Bandit, I'm leaving, whether you like it or not. I don't want to argue with you. I would like to leave on a peaceful note."

"You make me so frustrated. I hate living here. I hate being alone. I hate everything. Send me off to a foster home, I'd probably be happier." I stormed out and went to my room, slamming the door behind me. My temper had won and my self-control was diminished to a tiny speck.

I cried. I thought and I cried some more. I never bid goodbye to my mother. I was angry with her and everything. Supposedly, you pick your parents, so why did I pick them? What the hell was I thinking?

I always found it funny how every kid I went to school with wanted my life, or even kids I saw on social media. They wished their dad was a world famous individual and their mom was an aspiring musician. They thought I was the lucky one and I got special treatment. Little did they know how much it sucked. Yeah, it's cool having parents that will take you to their concerts, have you meet amazing people, and have famous uncles and close friends of the family, but you never actually spend time with them like kids are supposed to with parents. Want quality time? You can throw that dream out the window. They're always gone, off doing something else, and sometimes it seems like they don't care. To add onto that, I don't get any sort of "special treatment" at all. It's hard and sometimes I crave a normal life with normal parents.

Stirring me out of my pessimistic thoughts, I heard someone downstairs walking around.

"Hello?" I called out. I prayed the person down below was not a criminal, planning to murder me. Maybe even a crazed MCR fan.

"It's just me, Frank. Where are you?" he asked.

I headed downstairs, and found Frank perched in a kitchen chair. I felt horrible. My eyes were probably red and puffy and my hair was definitely tangled in the back. I didn't want to face him, but he was a house guest, and I had to be the host.

"Why are you all distraught?" He might as well have written "worried" on his forehead.

"I was just upset, that's all. Nothing huge," I replied, taking a seat next to him.

"About your parents?"

"Yeah." I played with the loose strings hanging from a hole in my jeans. I didn't feel like making eye contact or talking to anyone, even if it was Frank, whom I've known forever.

"I'm sorry. I came here to check up on you because Lyn-Z said you were pretty fired up about her leaving," he explained.

"I was, but I'm fine now. Thank you for your concern. It means a lot." I tried my best to smile, but it came out as a grimace.

"I'm all set to leave, I take it? If you need me, you have my number."

"You're all set. Of course, I'll call if I need you."

Frank got up, opened the door, and left. I heard his car pull out of the driveway and cruise down the road. I knew he was feeling sorry for me, but I didn't want him to. Despite the little breakdown, I would be fine.

Often when I was home alone, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. I'd either make popcorn and watch Netflix, browse the internet, read some books, just little things to keep myself occupied. However, I wasn't in the mood for that today.

Since a young age, I always loved exploring, according to my father. I agreed with this statement and I realized I was often very curious. Occasionally, I'd get random urges to go on adventures, discover some things, anything to help my curious appetite and hunger for knowledge. Today was one of those days and I fully planned on searching for something. A object involving a huge part of my father and who he really was. Gerard's journal.

Notes

I'm excited about this story, tbh. It's really fun to write so far.
Feedback is always welcomed. (:
Thank you for reading, and there will be more to come soon! xx