Demented

Sicky Little Frankie

Sadly, it happened again. The nightmares only worsened. But there was nothing he could do about that. Also, when he woke up that morning, he felt as if he was going to puke and had a horrible headache.

"Frank are you ready to leave?" Dr. Eston asked Frank, like he did every morning before Gerard woke up and had to take his meds.

"Noo," Frank moaned.

"What's wrong?"

"I feel sick," he sniffed.

"Stomachache, fever?"

"Headache, stomachache, cold."

"I'll bring you some Tylenol and a new box of tissues. But I'm going to need to get you out of here first. It's for your own safety," Dr. Eston said glancing at a sleeping Gerard on the other side of the room. Frank slowly nodded, wondering what exactly went on in here. He attempted sitting up but failed immensely so Dr. Eston had to help. Frank climbed down the small ladder from his top bunk and his feet landed steadily on the floor. His doctor led him down the hall and sat him down. "I'll be right back."

Frank took time to examine the walls around him. Nothing was white. For whatever godly reason this part of Bonaduce's Mental Facility for Young Adults was burgundy. The walls were trimmed with stained white faint magenta flowers. The chair was burgundy wood and quite pretty. It gave Frank an old Victorian style feel. The carpet matched the chair and walls. Frank looked down the long hallway and saw what he presumed people entering his room. What Dr. Eston told him, his first whole day here, was that Gerard was difficult to deal with when it came to his medication. Dr. Eston arrived with two pills of Tylenol and a glass of water. "Thank you." Frank downed the pills and washed them down with the water.

"Your welcome," he replied warmly. "Frank, so has Gerard done anything odd?"

"What do you mean by odd?"

"Like, possibly any threats or anything physical?"

"He told Bob he'd punch him if he didn't shut up last week. Other than that, no."

Dr. Eston nodded. "Tell me your thoughts on Gerard. Positive ones first."

"Okay. He's interesting. Whatever he has to say is interesting. He's confident. For some reason he wants to know what's wrong with me if I do or say something weird. Um, he-he decided to be my friend. Even though he said once that he didn't want any. He got you whe-whe-when I asked him to yesterday. We pl-play a lot of games. He's fun. I really like him, he's my best friend."

"Negative?" Dr. Eston asked. He was quite surprised by Frank's positives.

"He's nosy," Frank laughed. "And a bit of an asshole sometimes. His lack of empathy is really what makes him an asshole most of the time. And the fact that he um, um ki-killed, that, that guy." Frank cleared his throat.

"Yeah," Dr. Eston trailed off. Frank stared at his feet.

"Frank?"

"Yes?"

"Be careful."

"I will."
______________________________

After a half hour of waiting, Dr. Eston led Frank back to his room. Frank got on his bed. "Hey Frankie," Gerard greeted as he got his clothes.

"Hey."

"What's wrong?" he asked, pulling his pants down to reveal dark blue boxers.

"I feel sick."

"Oh. Well you were sniffing in your sleep last night." Gerard pulled his gray shirt over his crotch area and slipped off his underwear. Frank realized that he was standing right there practically naked. And his teenage hormones just wanted to see what his shirt was hiding. Gerard continued to get dressed. He went into their bathroom and combed his black shoulder length hair placing the sides behind his ears perfectly, although he knew it would come out of place within seconds. Gerard went to Frank's bunk and told him, "I'll come back after breakfast, kay? Get better kid." He ruffled Frank's hair, much to his annoyance and went to the cafeteria.