You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison

Fourteen (Frank's POV)

******************trigger warning******************

Blood oozed out of a vein in my wrist as I felt the cold bathroom counter against my pale skin. I let out a small and salty tear as I slid the blade again, this time lower, breaking open an old scar that was close to healing.

I slowly spelled out Gerard in my skin with blood, enjoying the agony and stinging my blade put me through each time it met my skin. Again and again, until I reached about 62, the cell Gerard was in now, probably making out with Brendon.

Why? Because I let him. I let the only man or even person I've ever had strong feelings for go. The kid who was also falsely sent to jail like me. The mystery cellmate with no name who owns a sketchbook full of drawings of me.

Another tear fell down my cheek as I started to feel drowsy. Good, I'm almost there. I thought. I wanted to die. If my life was staying here for the next few years, watching the man I love with some other guy and then possibly leave one day, only to find out my life was ruined because of my criminal record, I don't want to live it. When I get out, people will cross to the other side of the street when they see me. They'll hide their wife, hide their kids, even their dogs, from the crazy murderer that lives in Belleville.

Tears then started to stream down my neck and stain my jumpsuit. My back slid against the cold bathroom wall and my butt landed on the floor with a thud. I was lying in a moderately sized pool of bright red liquid. My own blood.

Maybe I should start my legs, or maybe my neck? I wondered. That would speed up the process. I grabbed the blade from the counter above my head and rolled up my orange pants to reveal more pale skin, scarred and blotchy. I teared it open like I had done to my arms.

I started to feel sleepy.

I grabbed a folded piece of paper from my pocket. Hey didn't remember I had this. I thought as I unfolded the red stained parchment paper. Over it was carefully drawn a sketch of me and Gerard. We were both holding hands in a cell and above us was a heart. Half of it was ripped a couple times and sewn back together, mine. Gerard held a needle and I held a roll of thread.

This is from when Gerard said he was fixing me, but he wasn't the only one to do so. I had to help too if I wanted to change. I sobbed as I grabbed a Q-tip from the counter.

I dipped it in my blood and lightly colored the heart in red. Then I dipped it back in and wrote Gerard a message.

Dear family, friends or anyone who ends up reading,
I have completely lost interest in life, it's not worth it anymore.
Mum, Dad, Pete, Patrick, Spencer, I'm sorry. Thank you all for trying to help but it's over now.
Gerard I love you. I always will.
Tell Brendon he can have you now, I'm out of the way.
And you were right. I always seem to ruin things.

xofrank

As I slowly signed, fighting to keep my eyes open, I remembered everything we had done together. From arriving, breaking down a few times, helping each-other, the kiss...

I don't want to die, not yet. I need to stay... For Gerard at least.

I try to get up as fast as I can, slipping on the blood a few times, covering my hands in blood. I rummaged through the first aid kit in the cabinet for a few plasters or some sort of medical tape. A small roll of fabric comes to my hands and I jerk it out of the small metal box. I then wrap it around the wounds as fast as I can.

Come on Frank!

Once that arm is messily done, I move on to the other, the one with Gerard's name cut in my skin. I wrap it a few times near my wrists, without managing to get any further.

My eyes fell shut and my body slumped downwards onto the red floor. I had bled out and was leaving my body.

--------------------

"Frank! Frank! No! Frank answer me!" A loud, high pitch series of screams echoed through my ears. I then felt a tight hug and hard slaps across my cheeks.

"Frankie, baby! Please! No! Don't leave me, I need you!" The screaming grew louder and louder. The person was madly hitting my chest and face and sobbing freely and loudly.

"Fraaankkk" The person, who I could now tell was a boy, was cupping my head in his arms and laying his head against my chest, crying non-stop.

Then all of a sudden, everything stopped and I saw a bright white light. A woman was in front of me, the woman I had supposedly killed.

"Hello Frank." She cooed. I'm Frank? The dying dude? She nodded, reading my mind.

I looked down, there I was. Bleeding in the arms of a red haired man. We're both in orange jail jumpsuits and lying in a pool of red. My face was pale and colorless, dead apparently.

"What are you thinking?" The woman asked calmly.

"Can't you read my mind?" I answered. She nodded.

"Yes, but I want you to see if you can. Do you actually know what you're thinking? Are you really done living?" She whispered, sitting on a bench. The scenery around me was in Belleville park. I used to go there as a kid with my mum.

I looked down. I was still there.

"Did I kill you?" I croaked. She smiled and shook her head.

"Then... Who did... Why am I here... Please, I have so many questions!" I quickly whined. She shook her head and pointed to my corpse and the redhead.

"We haven't got time for them. At least not now. You'll get all your answers soon enough." She said sweetly. I nodded.

"Do I have to go back?" I asked, seeing the state the redhead was in: not good. His eyes were blotchy and irritated. His face was red from crying and his body was covered in blood. In one hand he held a beautiful drawing stained in blood and words written in red.

"Do you want to?" She aksed. I shrugged. Did I?

"Do I... Love him?" I asked, cringing at the idea of kissing a boy. She nodded. Well then looks like I had to be okay with it now.

"What happens if I stay here? I like it here. There's no pain." I whispered, sighing at the thought of being in my old body again, suffering. She shrugged and smiled.

"That's for you to see" she whispered. That doesn't help much.

"I'll go back. I can't stand seeing him... Gerard... Like that." I said, noticing his name carved on my right forearm. She sighed and nodded.

All went black.