Defenceless.

Frank’s p.o.v

Right around the middle of the summer, my mother decided I was depressed, evidently because I didn't go out, I barely ate other then when she told me to, and because I barely talked to any one outside of the house since my third year of high school ended. I hadn't really even talked to anyone when I was in school, let alone at home, but I supposed she didn't know that, but it wasn't like she could monitor me at all times.

When she made her analysis, as she called it, she told me she’d wanted me to go to therapy. She droned on and on about how it pained her that I wasn't really living, etcetera, etcetera. After ward, I practically jumped at the idea of therapy. Not because I was actually depressed, more so to let her know I was fine.

I had a soft spot for my mother. She was a paramedic before she had me, but when I came along, she quit. She could’ve gone back to her job, theoretically, but she was always too busy worrying over me, making sure everything in our lives were as immaculate as she could make them.

I kind’ve felt like I owed it to her, considering I took over her life. She’d reassured me over and over again that having a kid was her choice and that this was all she’d wanted, but I’d always had my doubts.

So, at the end of that week, I found myself sitting in a cold metal chair, sitting in a circle of kids that looked as equally annoyed to be there. My mother suggested group therapy, so I knew ‘I wasn't alone’.

The counselor watched the clock as it hit four o’clock, then declaring it was time to begin.

“Alrighty! So, today we have a new comer, as you can see. His names Frank, I expect warm welcomes. Frank, would you like to tell us as little bit about yourself?” She asks, in an overly friendly voice. I read her name tag quickly. Helen. She was short, but thick around the middle, with dark, toned skin.

Just as I open my mouth to respond, i'm interrupted.

“Y’know, he probably doesn't. He looks about as happy as us to be here.” A girl with long black hair says.

“Izzy,” Helen sighs, turning her gaze to the girl. Izzy, supposedly, smiles sarcastically, before blowing air out of her cheeks and looking away.

“Okay guys, you know the drill. Were gonna go around in a circle, states our names, ages, and why we're here.” Helen says, smiling while switching her gazes between the group.

The kid to her left begins. He doesn't look intriguing at all, rather boring. The group held about 15 kids, so it was about five minutes before it got to me, considering I was three seats away from her right.

“Uh, I'm Frank Iero, I’m seventeen, and my mother suggested going here.” I state, feeling awkward as everyone stared at me. I felt really dumb for mentioning my mother. I was probably better off lying.

Next, a girl with bright, sky blue hair goes. She was only 15. I wonder what the age range is for this group?

None of the people intrigued me, that is, until we reached the last kid.

“I’m Gerard, I’m 17, and I’m here on court order.” He states, his arms crossed. He looked relaxed in his chair, as if not bothered by being here. His hair was jet black, obviously dyed, and chin length.

“Alright, good job guys. So last week we left off talking about healthy ways to express our anger. Who wants to tell me some ways we came up with?” Helen asks, looking around at us.

“Writing about why we’re angry.” The girl with blue hair states. I think her name was Sarah?

“Good! Anyone else?”

“Not taking a bat to a police officer's car.” Mikey, a kids name I’d actually managed to pick up, offered as an answer.

“Oh, fuck off Mikey. He deserved it.” Gerard responds.

“Gerard!” Helen barks, looking wide eyed as him. “Language! And although it's true that some people deserve bad karma, it's not acceptable to bash in any cars.” Helen finishes, returning to her calm state. Gerard rolls his eyes and snickers, looking comically at Mikey. Mikey grins at him, looking back at Helen.

“Okay, let's take a different approach. Frank! Why don't you tell us why exactly you here.” Helen suggests, smiling.

No Helen, I would rather eat a bowl of thumb tacks six times over.

“Yeah, already did that?” I say in a questioning tone. I raise an eyebrow, trying hard not to show my agitation.

“No, the specifics, why your mother sent you here. Anger issues, possibly?” She asks, sensing my annoyance.

“Quite an assumption you're making there, eh?” I respond, making a face of disappointment over come her happy features. I take pity on her, suddenly feeling a little guilty.

“My mom sent me here because I don't talk to anyone outside of my household.” I respond, looking her dead in the eyes.

“Why’s that?” She asks, her tone soft. I sigh, shrugging a little.

“I don't know. What's so great about people? They’ll just end up fucking ya over.” I say not angrily, but instead calmly. I reach for my coat pocket, grabbing my cigarettes.

“Is it cool if I step outside for a cigarette?” I ask, feeling for my lighter and grabbing that too.

“Frank, it's illegal for you to smoke.” Helen states firmly. I roll my eyes.

“Yeah, so is smoking weed, but my aunt still has jar in her bed side table. Its either in here or outside.” I tell her, standing up.

“Alright, alright, be quick about it.” She says, motioning for me to go out the door in the back of the room. There was a little area out there, fenced, but enough room for me to smoke.

I wasn't sure why I was being such a dick. I mean, normally I was really polite, but this whole thing was kinda pissing me off.

I bring the fag to my mouth, quickly lighting it up. I take a long drag, before pushing the smoke out of my lungs.

I could practically feel eyes watching me from the window, but I ignored it. I leaned against the fence, feeling my lungs burn as I take another drag. It probably took me about four minutes before I finally finished my cigarette.

When I went back inside, Gerard was talking. I quickly sat down, my eyes floating over to him.

“What was your diagnosis?” Helen asks Gerard, her voice neutral.

“Ah, they diagnosed me with tons of shit. But i'm here on account of my ‘bipolar disorder’.” He responds boredly. I watched as he talked, taking note of the way his mouth naturally picked up more one one side. Helen asked some more questions, but by then, I was zoned out. I stared off into space, waiting for the meeting to be over.

By the end of it, the only thing I can recall about the meeting is Gerard’s bipolar disorder.

“Okay, well, thanks for opening up guys. Frank, I hope you come back again. Remember, when you having a bad day, just...try to remember it's bad all over. But there's good too.” Helen states, standing up. I mole over her statement a minute, before finally standing. I’m one of the last ones to finally exit, along with Izzy and Mikey. Izzy smiles at me as she passes me, her eyes friendly.

I walk out before Mikey, getting my keys out of my back pocket, before crossing the parking lot my car. I unlock my car quickly, looking over to the building. Izzy catches my eye, smiling. She was standing next to Gerard and Mikey, talking quietly.

“Hey, Frank! Mind if I catch a ride?” She asks, her voice raised so I could hear her over the distance. I smile back at her, nodding. My insides were screaming no, people suck, but I was really sick of being alone.

“Yeah, come on.” I shout back, waving her over. Gerard and Mikey watch her walk across the street, before quickly turning back to their conversation.

I open my car door, getting in before turning on the enginiton. She gets in a few seconds after me, grinning a little.

“Thanks Frank. My brother always forgets to pick me up.” She says, shrugging a little.

“Yeah, sure. I could give you a ride next time to, if you want.” I say nonchalantly, pulling out of the parking spot.

“Yeah, thanks, that'd be great.” Izzy responds, buckling her seat belt. I nod, my tires skidding as I pull out of the parking lot.

“So, uh, why do you go to the meetings?” I ask, trying not to sound too curious. During the session, she just said her brother made her go.

“Well my brother thinks I have issues. I guess I do, but not the kind he thinks.” She says, indirectly answering the question.

“What kind of issues?” I ask, stopping for a red light. She sighs, playing with one of the holes in her back jeans.

“Like, he thinks I have a sex addiction.” She states, not looking me in the eyes. “I don't think I do. I just...like feeling close to people. It's not even just sex. I haven't had a long term relationship in a while, just flings.”

I nod, not showing any emotion in my face.

“I understand. I mean, not from experience, because I don't even like people, but if I had a chance, and I knew I wasn't gonna get fucked over, I’d be in constant flings until I felt like I wanted more.” I respond, shrugging. I see her smile out of the corner of my eye, looking relieved.

“Plus, if guys get to sleep around, girls should be able to, without getting judged. It's kinda sexist that when it comes to girls that is a ‘sex addiction’, but with boys it's just ‘boys being boys’.” I state airily. “Anyway, where’s your house? I don't even know where I’m going.”

“Oh, it's right by the high school on baldwin lane. You can just drop me off in the front of the high school.” She responds, making me nod. It was quiet for a minute, before she finally talked.

“Do you really think every ones gonna fuck you over?” Izzy asks, looking over at me. I bite my lip gently, carefully weighing my answer.

“Sometimes people fuck you over without realising it, or even meaning to. I don't want it to happen to me, but I also don't want to do it to anyone else.” I tell her, my voice even. I see her face go blank in the corner of my eye, obviously surprised.

“It doesn't affect you if you don't care.” Izzy murmured, her voice soft as if not wanting to upset me.

“I can't help but care. I care about people I don't even now, and even then I am unable to stop from being hurt. Imagine how much worse it would be if I was actually close to them.” I explained, chewing on my thumb nail.

“Then...why am I in your car?” She said softly, making me flinch. I don't really know. She was cute, but I don't think I even let her in my car for a hook up.

“I'm not sure. I'm tired of being alone. I want to trust someone.” I finally answered.

“Can we go to your house instead?” She replied suddenly, looking over at me. “Not to hookup or anything.” She didn't explain any further, just continued looking at me. I hesitated.

“Yes…” I draw out finally, nodding a little.

“I really hope you learn to trust me, Frank Iero.”

Notes

WeLp