Fight Fire with Fire (Frerard)

24. Not a Victim of a Victim's Life

Empty. Helpless. Torn apart by the thought of him.

I didn't mean to upset him like this. I didn't.

I had all and then most of him, some and now none of him. Take me back to the night we met.

When the night was full of terrors, and his eyes were filled with tears. When I had not touched him yet.

Oh, take me back to the night we met.

Feeling as if my body has become a stone-cold, rock-hard corpse, I lay in my empty bed. He got home about ten minutes ago.

The pain of hearing him sobbing in the bathroom, tears me apart.

My glassy eyes stare at the ceiling, wincing as his broken sobs get cut short by the sound of him throwing up.

Part of me desperately want's to check on him. Make sure he is okay. I cant though. He made it very clear that I need to stay out of his way.

Even if it kills me.

Even if it kills him.

Letting out a shaky breath, I check my phone for the time. I have spent hours trying to sleep. With no luck, I have settled for laying in bed, letting the sadness soak me up.

3:45am.

Slowly, I get up. The curious side of me takes over, as I slip into the hallway, trying to see Gerard. Creaking the door open as quietly as I can, I peer in to see the destroyed sight of Gerard.

He shakes violently, leaning over the dirty toilet bowl, choking up sobs in-between gagging.

I scrunch my face up when the sound and sight of his frail body bringing up bile becomes present in the room. He looks beyond exhausted.

"G-Gerard?" My worried and slightly rough voice sounds as he jolts in fright.

He brings his watery red eyes to mine, and it becomes apparent to me that he has taken more drugs. Is that why he is throwing up?

"What did you take after I left?" I ask carefully, knowing full well that he may scream at me to fuck off, or punch me in the nose.

For some reason, I feel like the latter would hurt less...

He casts his eyes down to the vomit in the toilet, before shrugging his bony shoulders.

"P-Pills" His voice is slurred, and I get a sick feeling.

"What pills?" I ask quietly as he coughs, clearing his burning throat.

"D-Don't know."

My growing concern, only multiplies as he smirks, letting out a little giggle.

"F-Frankieeee, I'm b-batman." He giggles out as my eyebrows furrow.

"What?"

"I-I'm batmannnn" Gerard's eyes still don't lock with mine, as he sways.

God, he is so fucking high...

"What makes you um, think that?" I ask, confused as his face goes from happy to stone cold in seconds.

That's when his eyes lock with mine. When I say his eyes were dead, I mean dead. The light that once was in them, is gone. They're cold and broken, empty yet sad.

"B-Because I am invincible. The p-pillsssss don't kill meeee!" He says quietly as my eyes widen.

"Gerard, what do you um, what do you mean?!" I begin to panic as sweat covers his trembling body.

Before he could answer, he turns, clenching onto the toilet bowl and gagging.

I watch, cringing at the sight of him painfully gagging. Nothing comes up. He is empty.

"F-Fuck!" He suddenly screams out, slamming the palm of his left hand against the porciline.

I step back, feeling nervous by his sudden outburst of rage.

"Gerard? Are y-you okay?" I begin to shake with a mix of the sickening worry I feel, and the sudden fear as he begins to grip at his matted looking hair.

He begins to mumble incoherent words as I take another step closer to the door, fear beginning to outweigh the worry.

What the hell is happening?

"Gerard, what is it? I don't unders-" My words are cut off as I see him pulling at his poor hair, breaking down.

Snot and tears run down his face as he sobs loudly, still mumbling.

As he shakes his head, crying, I begin to understand what he is saying.

"No, no, s-stop touching m-me. S-Stop. I c-can't breathe. N-No!" He sobs out as he shakes.

My eyes widen as I notice some of his hair getting pulled out. He is losing it. He is having a-I don't even know what. A panic attack? Either way, he is losing his mind right in front of me. What do I do?!

"Who is t-touching you?" I try, feeling helpless as I watch him pulling at his hair and mumbling for whoever to stop touching him, over and over again, "Gerard, you need to calm d-down." I tremble out.

Bile rises in me as his sobbing get's so violent, that he begins gagging again. This time, he shakily grips the toilet, gagging loudly as he sobs.

"C-Calm down Gee, I-" What do I fucking do?!

Not only does his nose run, and tears stain his cheeks, but he drools, as he cries.

I helplessly watch, tears falling, as he chokes, before letting his body force out the most aggressive gag I have ever seen.

His face turns red as he gags, not able to breathe.

"Gerard?!" I panic as tears stream down both of our faces, "P-Please s-s-stop" I cry.

Suddenly, he stops gagging, sucking in a brutal breath of oxygen.

"I CAN'T FUCKING BREATHE!" He bellows, throwing hands to his throat, "STOP TOUCHING ME!"

As soon as he says that, a sick realization hits me. He isn't having a panic attack, he is having a crazy episode of PTSD.

Rushing to his side, I notice he is back to pulling his hair, mumbling incoherently, and rocking back and forth.

I carefully wrap my shaking hands around his wrists.

"Gee, shhh. I-" I begin pulling his hands from his hair, while thinking of what to say.

"I can't breathe. I can't fucking breathe." He mumbles out, sounding beyond exhausted.

Tears fall as I sniff, "I-I know. It's okay. I'm h-here. F-Frank is here. You um, y-you are s-safe." I watch as he slowly begins to calm down.

Holding his wrists so he doesn't pull his hair, I watch his distraught face lock with mine.

"F-Frank?" He looks confused as I bite my lip, nodding.

"I-I am here. You are s-safe." I try to hold back my sobs as he stares in shock for a moment.

Just when he stops crying, and I think he has cried all his tears, he let's out a heart-breaking sob.

My eyes widen as he looks panicked.

"H-He w-w-would s-stop touching m-me. I-he-I couldn't b-breathe. H-He-" His sobs cut his terrifying sentence off, as he hang's his head in shame.

Fighting the urge to pry for answers as to who the actual fuck he is talking about, I let out a quivering breath.

"Gee, you are safe now. Um, h-he has uh...gone?" it came out sounding like a question, but he didn't notice, or at least acknowledge it.

I swallow hard, as I pull his ragdoll-like body to mine, hugging him. Shock begins to fill me as he snakes his arms around my body, squeezing like I'd vanish if he let go.

Gerard sobs into my shoulder, as we sit on the cold bathroom floor.

What do I do? How do I help him?

How do I fix him?