Cry Baby (Frerard)

Linda sat with her son Frank at the dining room table, watching him scribble on a picture of a puppy dog with a green crayon, his body confined to a wheelchair and his legs gone from the accident he got himself into two years ago in an attempt to end his own life. It haunted her knowing that her son would dare to do such terrible things to someone before he tried to kill himself, let alone to a mentally handicapped teenager that didn’t live far from her family’s household. What haunted her just as much was what happened to Frank after he tried to end his life. It was a miracle he survived the accident, but it left him just like what happened to Gerard--with the mental capacity of a young toddler, not remembering the life he lived past the age of three or four years old, maybe even younger than that. On top of that, it left him physically handicapped, never again to walk. That sadly wasn’t the only medical problem that Frank had to face since he got himself nearly killed in the accident with the semi truck. He suffered from seizures, was blind in one eye, and had to be tube-fed due to the severe damage that was done to some of his internal organs. From all the frequent hospital visits, therapy sessions, and extensive time Frank spent in a nursing and rehabilitation facility, the medical expenses have left the Iero family on the verge of poverty, seeking out government aid in order to support themselves and their son, since his father’s job didn’t even come close to covering all the debt they’ve put themselves in.
Linda looked at the time on her watch--it was past two, which meant it was time for Frank’s nap. She dreaded when this time came around, because Frank always threw a tantrum when she tried to put him to bed. He needed to lay down, though. She had to take a break from watching after Frank and get some cleaning around the house done.
“Frank, sweetie,” Linda cooed, lightly tapping Frank’s shoulder to get his attention. “It’s nappy time, Frankie. Let’s get you to your room--”
“N-no!” Frank yelled, throwing the green crayon in his hand across the room. “N-no nappy!”
“Come on, Frank. You need to lay down,” Linda said, standing up and undoing the locks on Frank’s wheelchair and wheeling him down the hall as Frank whined and cried loudly. She peeked into the office where her husband was doing some paperwork for his job. “Honey, can you help me put Frank to bed?”
“Sure,” Frank’s father, Frank Iero Sr., sat up and walked to his son’s bedroom with Linda. She turned on the light and wheeled Frank towards his bed. After locking the wheels on his chair, Frank’s parents lifted him and transferred him to his bed. Frank screamed as he flailed his arms to fight them, but was held down as they changed his diaper and dressed him in a pair of Sesame Street pajamas.
“M-mommy! M-mommy!” Frank cried loudly, reaching out for Linda as she turned on his bed alarm and baby monitor.
“Shhh, Frankie. Just go to sleep,” Linda said, bending down to her son and kissing him on the cheek, then gave him his favorite stuffed dog to hold. She then went to Frank’s little radio on his dresser and put in a nursery lullaby c.d, then turned it on. “Twinkle twinkle Little Star” began to play from it. She and her husband left Frank’s room, turned off the light, and closed the door as Frank continued to scream and cry, begging for his mommy. About a few minutes later, he felt his eyes grow heavy, and he fell fast asleep.

_ _ _
Donna pulled up her car in the parking lot of the Rainbow House, a large two story home with many acres of land surrounding it. When Donna stopped the car, her and Mikey got out of the car and walked through the ornate path to the front door. Mikey knocked on it, waiting for someone to answer. He used to be a bit timid visiting this place, knowing the people that inhabit it. But as he visited it more and more once a week, he became more familiarized and comfortable with it. He heard a set of footsteps from beyond the door, followed by it opening. In the doorway stood a young man with long black hair, wearing a Captain America t-shirt. He smiled brightly when he saw his brother and mom, who have both come to visit him.
“M-mommy! M-mikey!” Gerard yelled, nearly tackling Donna and Mikey when he embraced them both into a group hug.
“Hi, Ger-bear. How are you?” Donna smiled back.
“Hey, bro. Good to see you again,” Mikey replied.
“C-come inside, g-guys! I-I helped Adam c-clean th-the h-house up and I-I g-got s-some money f-for it!”
“That’s good, Gerard. You’re learning to be responsible!” Donna said, both her and Mikey walking inside the spacious home. The group home’s administrator, a woman named Janelle, greeted Donna and made some small talk about Gerard’s progress since he was admitted to the Rainbow House two years ago. Donna turned to her sons. “Mikey, why don’t you go play with your brother? Me and Janelle need to talk in her office,”
“Alright,” Mikey said, turning to his brother. “Gerard, what do you wanna do?”
“C-can we g-go p-play on the t-tire s-swing outside?”
“Sure. Let’s go,” Mikey said, walking with Gerard outside. As soon as they stepped out the door, Gerard ran off ahead of him to the large oak tree with the tire swing in the backyard.
“Y-yaaaayyyy!” Gerard exclaimed as he dashed for the tree, with Mikey running behind him.
“Hey, wait up!” Mikey laughed. The smile on his face quickly faded when he got a look at the healed stitches on Gerard’s stomach and throat when the wind blew his shirt up, revealing the scars. Gerard was one lucky guy, he thought to himself. He barely survived what happened to him that fateful night two years ago. Some sick fuck that used to be Gerard’s caregiver did all kinds of heinous things to his brother. He abused him. He raped him. He kidnapped him. He almost killed him, but failed. Gerard pulled through after receiving a handful of surgeries, and with time, recovered fully. He thankfully didn’t remember anything that Frank did to him, since the trauma he experienced to his head wiped away all those memories. He also received counseling and therapy to help him combat the voices he hears in his head and the things he sees that no one else can. Now that he’s on the right medication and has weekly appointments with his psychologist, the schizophrenic symptoms have nearly vanished and have only occurred far and few in between, if not ever. Mikey knew Gerard came a long way from where he used to be after someone found him barely alive in the dark and cold motel room, all alone and bleeding. He couldn’t be any more proud of him for all the progress he’s made. He also couldn’t ask for a better brother.
“P-push me on th-the s-swing, Mikey!” Gerard said, sitting on the tire swing, waiting to be pushed.
“Alright, Gee,” Mikey said, lightly pushing his brother on the swing, watching him go up higher and higher, Gerard’s eyes gleaming with joy in the sunlight as he smiled.

Notes