Guilty Conscience

I Promise, I am Most Definitely Not Okay

Today would be the day that I get to go to Gerard's.

It would be an understatement to say the least that I, Frank Anthony Iero Jr, am fucking terrified.

It would be a normal school day, but Gerard had offered to drive me to his house, which added onto the fear.

My anxiety worsens when I'm with people, more so when I'm with people I liked and am awkward around. I really wish I wasn't like this, but I can't help it.

School was still the same, although it looked like some seniors decided to do a very early prank and shot confetti all over the school. So, now, they were all being forced to clean it, even those who had no partake in the prank.

We were asked in World Geography how far along everyone was in the project, and most of the class said they hadn't even started it. The only group that had actually done something was the group with Talia and Hunter. Of course they had started, Talia was the goody-two shoes who gets everything done in the first day of being assigned to her. I'm so sorry, Hunter, that you have to deal with that.

Although I may not make friends, I do know a majority of people's names. I know things.

Don't get me wrong though, I was excited to see Gerard and his house, it was just the fact that I would have to socialize with him and possibly others while there. That's what made me scared.

I went to each of my classes as I usually would, then headed to lunch. And, that, was when it was about to get very, very, real.

I walked over to my table, until I heard some snickers. I was used to this kind of thing, sure it pissed me off, but it wasn't worth getting mad over. I sat down, taking out my sketchbook and began to work on the final details of my latest art. I thought it was a beautiful interpretation of self harm.

It was a vine with roses alternating on it, climbing up a man's arm. The thorns from the roses cut into the arm, making an enormous amount of blood drip down. The blood collected at the bottom of the page to reflect a shadow of someone lying on the floor, looking dead. I drew them to be dead, but others may not think they are dead. People interpret everything differently. The whole drawing was very dark, and it consisted of my own feelings. My own urges. My own addictions.

"What's that?"

I jumped in my seat as I heard the voice. It wasn't Gerard's and it certainly wasn't James or afro dude. I really didn't want to know who had said it, but I also needed to. I looked up and almost choked on my saliva. It was him. It was the guy that had beat me with all his drug friends. I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. I pretended to be confident and unfazed by his presence, even though I was very much fazed.

"It's nothing. Why are you here? This is high school dumbass. Not a drug dealing club."

He chucked lightly at my remark and then leaned in closer.

I gulped, afraid of what was to come next.

"I'm here to pick someone up. I suggest you don't make yourself more of an enemy with me or I will make sure your dead the next time we cross paths."

'Fine, you prick." And with that, he walked away. I relaxed in my seat, making sure I was still here. And I was.

The only class left for me was science, and we weren't doing much in the class, just going over some assignment that wouldn't be due for another week. It had finally sunk in that I was going to Gerard's house, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. It had started to trigger an anxiety attack, and the teacher took notice rather quickly.

"Mr. Iero, are you ok?" The teacher seemed concerned, and the tone she used made everyone turn around to look at me.

I shook my head side-to-side very quickly, making me become dizzy.