|Sad|
Frank's P.O.V.
Dream:
I place my hand on the cold silver doorhandle to his room. Cold. Everything is so cold and dark. I have a deep pit in my stomach. I know what's behind the door. I don't want to look, but I have to. I close my eyes and hold my breathe before swinging open the door. There he is. Gerard rests on his back on top of the pilly blue quilt and has his head on a dark grey pillow. His black hair is spread like ink on top of the pillowcase. His dark eyebrows are a large contrast to how deathly pale his face is. Gerard is in his black skinny jeans and black t shirt. His wrists are covered top to bottom with the most thick, dark red scars I've ever seen. As soon as I start to stare his arms, blood starts leaking out of the slits. It's just a small trickle at first, but the longer I stare, the more thick crimpson liquid comes seeping out. Its an awful sight. My eyes are forced to look at the awful scene. I want to look away. I want to turn my head, but it's impossible. I take a few shaky steps forward. The more I near to him, the worse things get. Blood pools on the floor where his arm hangs off the side and on the matress where his other arm rests peacefully. He looks dead, but then I notice his eye twitches. I open my mouth to say, "Gerard!" but no words come out. I walk up closer to him despite my wishes. I hear my foot splash softly in the blood like a rain puddle. Moving the back of my hand on his freezing forehead as if I were checking his temperature, I get a better look at all of him. He has a gleam to the stomach of his wet t shirt. Blood. More blood. How much blood is there? Gallons, it seems. He also has the same shine of blood on his thighs. It soaks into the quilt. I want to scream. I want to rush out the door and call an ambulance.
"I'm sorry," Gerard manages to whisper. Thats when I notice the corner of his room. Hidden in the shadows is a stack of miscellaneous blades that goes all the way to the ceiling. They look as if they were sprayed with blood. They seem to tower over me. I tear my vision away from the blades and back to Gerard. Instead of blood on him now, it's a thick dark green liquid. Nyquil. The color sickens me. I feel like I'm about to barf.
***
I wake up with the terror from the dream still circulating inside my head. I take a few calming breaths before laying back down and falling back asleep. It wasn't real. It was just a dream.
YOU ARE READING
Stuck (Frerard)
Fanfiction(Has a happy ending, don't worry) Gerard has lived alone for as long as possible, since he was 17. He is a depressed kid that turns to unhealthy methods for coping. One day from his window, he sees a kid get beat up. This happens often outside his a...
