"So, Frank, would you like to explain how your stay and healing process is going? Explain it to me." Ray leans back in his chair focusing on me as I twirl a pencil with my fingers, not wanting to speak.
"The same as anyone else in this hell hole." I look at the floor, wanting this session to be over, so I can hide in my room again, desperately wanting more sleep.
"Well, Mr. Iero, I can't pass you up to a level, if you don't speak to me, I have to know your not mentally digging yourself a grave. You are not the only one in this world suffering, think about that." He looks at me sternly.
Like I could give two shits about anyone else, I can barley remember who I am
"Well that's not my fault, you don't have to lay that on my shoulders, all because you think I'm crazy." He laughs stacking papers on the side of his desk, his light brown curls at the top of his head, moving with him.
"I actually think you're quite intelligent, Frank. For the past 3 weeks you've been here I've noticed the way you act. Of course it isn't normal, but it's very interesting."
I didn't speak.
"See? You're very quiet when you want, or well, need to be. You listen in on things. Don't think I haven't seen you listening in on me and Derek and, the other boys as well, you're very keen, and that's good, for someone in your situation. Unfortunately, you just have a bad thing hanging over your shoulder."
I frown, looking at him as he opens a folder, pulling a paper out.
"Now who is this?" I freeze, looking at a picture I have never seen before. It was a picture of Gerard. His black hair, In a ruffled flow down his face, his skin, almost the color of snow, with a hint of pink in his cheeks. He was sitting down on his bed, head against the wall, staring down at a comic book, in, what looks like one of..the rooms here..he looked so lost, yet so consentraited on what he was looking at.
My eyes start to water unexpectedly. As I relive more memories of him.
"Why do you have thi- you know exactly who this is." I cover my eyes, trying my hardest not to cry in front of this guy.
"Frank he never told you. Did he?" I look up at him, as he slaps a folder in front of me. On the front cover there was a worn out sticker that read: Way, A. Gerard
" I dont.- I don't understand."
He opens the folder, revealing a paper, paper clipped to the front, that read: Gerard Author Way. Illness: PTSD, depression.
I read more and more, and the more I read, the more broken I got.
Self harm at night
Crying while sleeping
Weeping for a so called 'Mikey' or 'Frankie'
Very quiet, rarely ate
I begin to shake realizing why he showed me this
"Do you understand, now?"
"I-i.."
He pulls back the folder, and points at the picture.
"A month before Gerard Way died, he was here. At this hospital."
I sit back, tears slowly falling down my face.
"And he was to afraid to tell me"
"No, Frank, he-"
I laugh rasply looking at the picture
"No, Mr, Toro, don't you see? He was dying inside. And I was- I was to blind to see it. He was breaking. And there I was, thinking all was okay." I laugh
"No, Frank-"
"What he must of thought that night...I was such an idiot, I- I can't."
"Frank enough! It is not your fault! You did not have the knife that night."
I sigh, staring at my feet.
"Yet, It wasn't his fault that Mikey was murdered. Did that stop him?"
No answer.
"Exactly."
I walk out of his room with a million tears, and a thousand regrets.
YOU ARE READING
Short Of a Breath
Fanfiction"For god sakes help him! He's bleeding to death!..." My mother yells at the men surrounding me through tears as the paramedics grab my numb body, covered in blood, from my blood stained bedroom floor, to take me to God knows where. My name is Frank...
