Never Coming Home

Mechanical Animals

A/n: Hello! I'm back! Sorry for the long wait!

An alarm.

A loud, high pitched blaring alarm.

That's what woke Frank and Gerard from a dreamless sleep.

It was nine o'clock.

Just as their sleepy minds tried to grasp back onto reality, they were both pulled from the floor and separated into two different rooms. Gerard's consisted of what looked like an operating room with a uncomfortable looking white bed in the middle and machines that Gerard couldn't name even if he tried. Frank's room looked just like the ones he'd seen before, the ones that killed everyone in them.

Frank could only fear the worst. He couldn't forget what happened in the other rooms like this one, even if he tried. He believed that he would die in that room.

Now after being separated from his only companion, Frank felt even more alone and scared. His wrist and knuckles aced in a pain that he couldn't describe, but there were bigger problems at hand. What would be the point of complaining about a broken hand when he was about to die, or worse, self combust.

Both boys could see each other through a pair of thick glass windows that stuck on the wall that separated the two. Gerard stared at Frank with wide, terrified eyes, but Frank couldn't see what Gerard was seeing. Frank didn't know that Gerard was being approached by a doctor who held some surgery utensils and a large syringe, and oh how Gerard hated needles.

Frank couldn't hear anything, but he could see his friend's face scrunch in pain as his mouth opened and let out a voiceless scream.

Frank was panicking now. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears and he could feel his hands and legs tremble. Then, there was a soft hissing noise, and as Frank looked up, he could see the same white mist slowly sink towards him. The boy sucked in a breath and held it as the mist fell over him and clouded his vision. Frank's lungs burned and his eyes filled with tears. His heart was pounding out of control, but he continued to hold his breath because, damn, he didn't want to die.

The cloud of drugs wasn't clearing out, though, and Frank began to get dizzy and desperate. Finally, after a few seconds of hanging on, Frank released his breath and sucked in a gasp of that bitter tasting gas.

Almost instantly, Franks lungs and chest ignited in a pain that could only be compared to swallowing a gallon of gasoline and lighting a match on your tongue. The boy's throat was so raw that he couldn't even scream, not even a gurgle, but none of this matched up to the horrid pain in Frank's hand. Frank could feel and see the bones under his skin tearing apart and reshaping. It was like something out of a horror movie, and Frank was beyond terrified.

Finally, after what had felt like agonizing hours, Frank's five minutes of torture was over. The misty air around him cleared, and his lungs began to clear themselves of the putrid air. Somehow, once he was done coughing, Frank felt slightly better. Not mentally, of course, because who could ever forget the tragic experiences that Frank went through, but physically, Frank felt... well. That's when it hit him.

"My hand..." Frank croaked out, flexing his fingers. It was completely healed, from the trash tiny scrapes to the oldest scars. Hell, even his tattoos looked better.

The next thing he noticed was that his voice was no longer raspy and crackled. Also, he could breathe so much better. It was as if whatever medicine he breathed in had healed his poor burnt lungs from years of chain smoking. Frank felt like a kid again, healthy and fresh.

"Well, Frankie!!" Boomed a set of silver speakers, suddenly. "Looks like you're the first one to survive the big test! How did it feel?"

"You're a piece of shit..." Frank grumbled. "I want out. Let me go. Let us go."

"Not a chance." Chuckled the speaker. Then, the door opened and Frank was once again yanked out of his restraints and thrown back into the cold concrete room. For a second, Gerard wasn't there, and frank began to panic. Soon after, though, Gerard was tossed in too, but he looked a little more shaken. What had happened to Gerard in that room?

"Hey..." Frank said quietly, "Are you okay?"

Gerard only shook his head, not saying a word.

Frank sighed, leaning his head back onto the cold concrete wall. "My hand is fixed.." The boy stole a quick glance at Gerard who nodded once, yet stayed silent.

The two sat comfortably for the next few minutes until Gerard finally spoke. It was a simple sentence, but the words left Frank with chills.

"We need to get out of here."