Before Killing Was Cool ➊ FRERARD

12: Rest In Pieces, Unholy Father

C h a p t e r | T w e l v e

Present Day - Frank

The burn on Gerard's hand heals quickly. Really quickly. The memory of it stays a little fresher.

Ray says it's finally time I ought to do something other than fight and mess around with Gerard in his house, so now I'm with my parents who are six feet under in a Church graveyard. The funny thing is I drove two hundred miles north to be here, trusting that Ray would keep an eye on Gerard. Or not. Whatever.

I'm making a day of it. This graveyard right on the East Coast is a place we used to vacation when I was in elementary school and I decided it would be a fitting place to bury them. I wanted to stop by on the way to Georgia initially but I was too nervous of getting caught up with by the cops or the FBI or whoever cared enough back then.

"'Here lie Linda Iero and Frank Iero, beloved parents and friends, deceased October 31st 2014, now whom art with our Holy Father in Heaven.'" I tiredly light a cigarette. "I bet you wouldn't like me doing this." I blow out smoke and scoff at myself - talking to a couple of corpses who can't hear a word I'm saying.

They died on my birthday, a year and a half ago. I set some flowers on the grass beneath my feet and cross my legs, staring blankly at the stone. There's a crack on it, slightly golden underneath the morning sun, down the middle between their names as if the world tried to separate them - or just some anti-social drunken teenagers.

"'Holy Father in Heaven'," I repeat mockingly then take another drag, "you believed this nonsense? That you would go to a better place? You're just stuck underneath me in a coffin; you're not going anywhere. You refused to open your eyes to the truth and see there's no God, no magic man in the sky to solve all your problems, no system of justice in Heaven or Hell.

"People die, mom and dad! You died, then that was it! We don't get second chances or a decent legacy besides our will. It's not fair - God wouldn't let this happen. He wouldn't allow a heartless psycho to slit the throats of two innocents in front of a sixteen-year-old's eyes for no reason! I dealt with all the bullying after that on my own, without your shoulders to cry on, without your arms around me or your words to comfort me. You left me and I know you're not watching over me because you can't, because you're just gone, and you're never coming back. You can't save me, but maybe I deserve it because I couldn't save you."

And suddenly I'm consumed with fury, getting to my feet and throwing the pack of cigarettes into the fog settling around the cemetery gates. Everything has turned to nothing - I wanted Marlboro Reds but they were sold out so there's only a petty Light between my lips. Gerard is in my head and I can't get him out; Gerard is messing with my mind, and I like it - no, I adore it.

It's like he's the thing tying me down but also the parachute preventing me from falling to certain death. The one person keeping me from going totally off the deep end. It's changed my life - I spent years thinking I was emotionally unavailable, that there was something wrong deeply rooted in my psyche. Commitment issues, mental detachment, a bad personality - whatever it was, I never thought I'd get a shot at happiness with another person. And suddenly I find myself with gut-wrenching despair for how I've treated him, because he'll never be happy with me.

My phone rings and it takes me a few seconds before I can bring myself to answer, rolling my eyes at who it is trying to reach me. Way to tear me out of my thoughts. "What, Ray?" I snap. "I told you I was going—"

"Frank, it's Gerard."

I sigh and trace my fingers across the top of my parents' tombstone. I wasn't expecting that. I'm just so tired of being on edge all the time even if it's what I deserve. "Oh."