Stage 4 Fear Of Dying ✔ (Frerard)

//Chapter 6\\

""If you could hear the dreams I've had, my dear..."
Yea I know, you've heard that line before."

Frank's POV:

Hands around my throat. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. The hands are splintered and they have sharp claws. The claws are digging into my flesh. I'm bleeding. There's so much fucking blood. I'm coughing it up. I'm spitting it out. I can't scream. My chest is heavy and feels like it's crushing inward. The hands get tighter. Tighter. My blood is warm. Thick. I'm being smothered by it. But I'm blind. I don't know who's killing me. I want to know. I want to breathe. I want to wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

"Wake up!! Frank wake up!!"

I jolted back to reality and a blurry figure of Gerard as he gripped the shoulders of my sweat-soaked shirt. My eyes blinked rapidly trying to get a grip on the fact that I was awake, except, I still couldn't breathe. So was I still asleep??

"Frank!? Frank, can you hear me??"

No. I was most definitely awake.

Because all of a sudden pain erupted in my chest and I convulsed violently, choking out what seemed like gallons of blood all over myself, the bed and Gerard. I wheezed for small gasps but it felt like I was dying. It felt worse than the dream. The migraine in my head started kicking the walls of it's cage and I cried out in agony as puke and blood spewed from my guts. If this really was death, then I wanted it to just end me now.

My seizure-like trembling, however, didn't seem to phase Gerard so much that he didn't rush me outside and to his car, closely followed by Ray and Mikey, all of them still in pyjamas. Ray got into the drivers seat as Gerard and Mikey climbed into the back with me. Gerard rubbed my chest firmly to try and let air get to my lungs while Mikey did the best he could to clean me up.

It was obvious they were taking me to the hospital. Even more so when I started drifting in and out of consciousness. I was in the car. Then Gerard's arms. Then a stretcher. Then and operating room. Then black.

---

I wasn't dead.

Not yet anyway.

I knew that much because I woke up with a pounding headache and a throat that felt like someone had snapped the ends off of plastic forks and shoved them down my neck and shook me around. Not to mention: the bright lights. The pristine, white everything. The smell of heavy disinfectant. The beeping of the heart monitor. The tube thingymajig in my nose. The other thingymajig that gets clipped onto your finger. The IV line sticking out of my flesh. And the annoying, nagging thought in the back of my head that said 'I'm sick and fucking tired of being here'.