A Day In The Life Of Misery - 9
Title - A Day In The Life Of Misery
Author - consistant
Rating - R/NC17
Pairing - Frank/Gerard
Status - Chapter 9
Summary - Sequal to the stand alone Obey Thy Father . Gerard is now 16 and goes to school with Frank. When they first meet it's clear they are attracted to one another, but Gerard is frightened of getting involved with Frank because his father might find out and worsen the already terrible nightmare he lives in.
POV - Frank (may change at times)
Disclaimer - Don't own, don't know, don't sue. This is completely and totality fictional.
WARNING - This story contains child rape, abuse and a shit load of suicidal thinking. If you think this will offend/disturb/upset you in any way shape or form, i implore you not to read.
Previous Chapters -
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
----------------------
A Day In The Life Of Misery - Chapter Nine
Gerard’s pov
I hated walking home that day. I left Frank with his mom, who fussed and flapped about him missing a day off because of a ‘tiny little fever’ and I managed to slip out before she got round to asking me why I was there in the first place. I couldn’t tell her the real reason, I just mumbled that I’d ‘popped by to say hi’ and made a run for it afterwards. I’d told Frank to ring me later and given him my number, but I regretted it instantly. Would I be able to talk to him again after tonight?
He loved me.
I loved him.
We were perfect for each other.
The only problem with this seemingly perfect relationship was the thing waiting for me when I eventually arrived home…
It was dark when I finally climbed the steps up to my front door and stars were twinkling overhead, the moon hidden behind a sheaf of grey clouds. I hesitated as I lifted a hand to the door handle, the cold night air biting my exposed skin. I drew my coat tighter around myself and stood there shivering in indecision.
Go inside and face another night of torture or go back to Frank’s house and seek refuge?
Knowing there was only really one option open to me, I reached out and clasped the door handle in my shaking hands. I pushed the door open and stepped inside, knowing full well what to expect.
However to my great surprise I found a completely silent household greeting me. I frowned, dropping my bag and kicking off my shoes, looking around cautiously as I did so. I couldn’t see or hear anything but the rumble of the immersion, the ticking of the hall clock and the quiet empty rooms. I couldn’t hear screaming or sobbing or anything like what I was used to. This did far from reassure me; instead it filled me with dread and doubt.
Something was wrong here.
I heard a distant thud and click, and jerked my head around in the direction of the kitchen. The slow glugging of liquid spilling from a bottle was filling the still air. It sounded sinister to me and sent me shivering. Father was drinking, alone, in the kitchen. This was unusual.
“Gerard?” I heard him call, his tone slurred slightly.
“Y-Yes?” I stammered back, keeping close to the front door in case he came thundering out of the kitchen to get me as always. But he didn’t.
“Could you come in here please?” His voice sounded ragged and low, and it scared me to hear it like that. He was always in such control. What had happened?
I edged my way down the hall, dragging my feet slowly, my head lowered. My eyes darted around and my stomach churned. There was blood on the carpet. Fresh blood. I looked up once I entered the kitchen and there he was, sitting solidly at the table, whiskey bottle in hand.
He was sitting low in his chair, his body hunched over and his head slightly bent, as though he didn’t have the energy to keep his neck straight. I eyed him cautiously from behind my greasy raven locks, keeping by the fridge in case he tried anything. The fridge was right next to the back door, which meant I could make a run for it if he dared come near me.
“What is it father?” I asked quietly.
He looked up slowly, his eyes groggy and his mouth agape. He looked as though he’d been severely punched and was still reeling from the blow. He lazily lifted the whiskey bottle to his lips, taking a protracted gulp and grunted at the bitter taste. He set the bottle down, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and sighing with delight. The hot heat of the alcohol was burning strong inside him, and his eyes seemed to clear of their drunken fog. He suddenly looked more frightening to me than the first time he’d taken me all those years ago. His face was twisted with a sneer that chilled my blood and caused my heart to beat faster.
“The school called.” Father said in a low drawl, raising slowly from his chair, the legs of which dragged across the tiled floor with a loud scraping noise. “They said you didn’t come in today.”
“Oh…”
I didn’t know what to say. How could I answer? I couldn’t lie, he already knew the honest truth and there was no getting around the fact that he was still there, standing with his hands splayed out on the table and a glint in his eyes which I really didn’t like. He was waiting for my answer.
“Where did you go Gerard?” he asked, his voice steadily getting louder.
“I-”
“Did you go to the police?” Father growled, cutting me off with a hiss as I tried to protest. “Did you tell the God damn Social on me, Gerard?”
“Of course I didn’t!” I spluttered, backing up against the fridge as he came out from behind the table and began to advance towards me.
“I don’t believe you.” He hissed, his hands coming out of nowhere to grab my collar in two tight fists.
“Father!” I choked as his grip caused the material to tighten around my neck. His face was so close to mine I could smell his putrid breath, feel it scudding across my trembling face. “Please don’t!”
“Don’t what?” Father snapped, smirking as he pressed his body closer, his sturdy legs slipping between my thighs. I shuddered as my back came into sharp contact with the fridge door, causing pain to shoot up my spine.
“Don’t hurt me!” I pleaded, whimpering as his hands left my collar to grasp the backs of my thighs, bringing my legs up to wrap around his waist.
“I’m your Father, Gerard, I’d never hurt you…”
Oh the irony.
I could feel his hard on pressing into me through my jeans and I felt like being sick. No matter how many times he’s done it, it never stops being so God damn nauseating. I struggled as I felt his hands rubbing the backs of my thighs roughly. The fridge began to rock a little off the ground as I squirmed violently pushing my palms against his hulking chest, scrabbling my nails across his shirt and yelping in desperation as he began to laugh. His deep rumbling laughter made me want to hurl.
“Yeah, you do that, you fight!” Father chuckled low in his throat, lowering his dry lips to the crook of my neck, his tobacco stained teeth nipping my flesh red raw.
“Father!!” I screamed, my head thrown back and my body practically convulsing as he jammed his hips up against me so my back slammed repeatedly into the fridge, which in turn smacked hard against the kitchen wall. I was so afraid of seeing more pain…
“What’s the matter Gerard?” He asked so calmly that it sent shivers running through me like trickling cold water, falling all over me, getting inside the very core of me and making my limbs lurch. “Don’t you like this? Don’t you want this you little emo fag?!”
“DON’T FATHER!” I yelled as loud and as fiercely as I could, my throat burning as the words tore my voice to shreds. Tears were welling up in my eyes now, stinging, but I wouldn’t let them fall.
“Why-the-fuck-not?!”
With each word he spoke he thrust up hard between my denim clad legs, sending both me and the fridge smashing into the back wall, the loud bangs resounding around the empty kitchen. I sobbed and shrieked as pain exploded within every nook and cranny of my body, touching muscles that I didn’t even know I had.
“BECAUSE I’M YOUR SON!” I shouted hoarsely, wriggling with all my might, my body arching upwards involuntary as I tried to push him from me. He just smirked and chuckled as though I was nothing more than a stupid inferior animal that’d just performed an absurdly simply trick.
“No.” he hissed, his lips grazing my ear as he leant in right up close, his massive torso crushing me so I could barely breathe. “You’re just some little piece of shit that came free with your mom when I married her, you and that bastard brother of yours. I never wanted you or him, I just wanted your mother. It ain’t my fault you grew up to be a pretty little bitch who doesn’t fight the fuck back. What else am I expected to do, but this…”
He slipped his rough, callused hand down between my unwilling legs, rubbing me through my worn denim jeans. I turned my face to the side so I wouldn’t have to look at the expression of sick enjoyment that radiated from him. I whimpered. This wasn’t fair.
“See, you don’t fight back do you? I bet you enjoy it. I bet you get off on it don’t ya?” he sneered, leaning forwards and running his tongue up the side of my face, coating my cheek with stinking saliva. I cringed at the slick, slimy feeling it left me with.
“Don’t…don’t…” I whimpered, shaking my head from side to side as he found my wrists and gripped them in both his huge hands, forcing them up above my head, shoving his midriff to mine, pinning my body to the fridge so I couldn’t move.
“Shhh…” He cooed, “You don’t want your mother to hear you like this do you?”
“What?”
“She’s in the closet, I put a chair up against the door handle so she can’t get out. I smacked her about a bit first…” he grinned at the look of horror that slid upon my features.
“Mikey…?” I ventured, my voice sounding terribly small.
“Oh, him.” Father rolled his eyes, his large mannish fingers chaffing my small teenage wrists thoughtfully. “I lost him, ran off as I was beating your mother. Don’t worry, he’ll get what he deserves later…after this…”
Perhaps it was his words that made me do what I did. Perhaps it was his plans for Mikey and his violation of my mother. Or maybe it was the overpowering urge to simply be free and clean again. Whatever it was, however powerful it might have been, I found the unexpected strength I needed to pull both wrists free and to punch that motherfucker square in the fucking face.
He roared with rage, stumbling backwards and clutching his busted lip and hopefully broken nose. I slipped down the fridge to the floor, panting and flexing my now aching knuckles, hearing them crack as I did so.
“You fucker!” Father shouted, staggering towards me.
My eyes widened in desperate fear as I scrambled to my feet, slipping a little on the blood splattered tiles, and ran for it, out of the kitchen door and down the hallway. I heard him thundering after me, could feel the very floor vibrating with his footsteps and I knew I’d never reach the front door in safety.
Taking the next best route, I veered off to the right and began running up the stairs, tripping and cursing as my feet failed to find the steps I was aiming for, my hands dragging across the wall, knocking off family photographs. He was yelling at me, climbing up behind me. I saw out the corner of my eye, father making swipes for me with his blooded fingers.
“Get back here you-”
I flung myself up the last few steps and began to crawl my way down the landing to my room, my only refuge. I was so tired now I could hardly keep going, my breath hitching as a stitch tore at my side. The only thing keeping me going was him and his terrifying voice, calling after me, him running to get me. I knew that if I let that happen, if I let him get me, I’d be dead.
I practically fell over the threshold, clutching the frame for support as I stumbled inside and flung the door shut in his face. The door handle immediately began to rattle and my heartbeat accelerated as I pressed my body flat against the door as it cracked open. My weight slammed it shut and I breathed heavily, closing my eyes, whispering a prayer to no one.
“Playing it that way, huh?” I heard him snarl, “We’ll see! You wait! I’ll get you!”
Slam! Slam! Slam!
“Oh God…” I gasped, the door jarring as he flung his weight against it repeatedly, almost dislodging me. I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing myself flat to the door, my hands gripping the outer frame tight. “No…Please…”
Slam! Slam! Slam!
“Move the fuck out the way Gerard or I swear I’ll beat your pretty ass from here all the way to New Orleans!” he bellowed angrily.
“No…please…please…no…”
“MOVE!”
“NO!”
I couldn’t take this anymore. All this yelling was only going to end in my violation and my pain, not his. I knew that if I didn’t take a stand now I never would, so I did the only thing I could do. I stepped away from the door and let him enter.
“So, thinking sense now are we?” he smirked, reaching out to me.
I stared at him, watched the blood drip in a slow stream from his swollen lips and I saw my future in those whiskey soaked eyes. I saw everything I could expect. I saw my death and my livelihood rolled into one. I saw it all.
“Yes, I’ve come to my senses all right.” I said quietly, stepping away from him slowly, never breaking eye contact. He watched me, his face screwing up in confusion.
“What are you doing?” he asked as I moved still further away from him, towards the dirty looking window on the far wall.
“Something I should have done a hell of a long time ago.”
And before he could say anything, before he could even draw breath, I swung round and plunged my fist into the thin windowpane with a loud scream of pain. The sheet of glass shattered in a million glittering pieces, the shards falling like confetti to the floor, tinkling a pretty song you might hear from your grandma’s jewellery box.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” he bellowed, his face a picture of shock.
I bent double, clutching my bleeding right hand and taking deep, steadying gulps of air. Man that hurt. I raised my head with difficulty, tears welling in my ears as pain shot through me in spasms. My black hair was hanging in my eyes and blood smeared my face, but I was defiant. I wouldn’t let him hurt me anymore.
“You’re gonna pay for that you little fucker! You’re ass is gonna be so raw, you’ll be shitting blood for weeks bitch!” He snarled, taking a threatening step towards me.
“No.” I hissed.
“What?” He frowned, as though I’d said something absurd.
“NO!” I yelled, spit flying from my lips as I screwed up my face in pain, fighting back the tears. I was in such agony it was almost laughable. My hand throbbed, bleeding profusely. I could feel stray shards of glass sticking into my flesh and boy did it sting.
“Shut it! Get your ass here boy!” Father took yet another step towards me and my throat closed up with fear.
“Get away!” I cried, staggering away from him and leaping up onto the window ledge, balancing myself by leaning my aching body against the window’s outer frame. The winter wind blew across my face, whipping my black hair back off my hazel eyes so I could see the town set out below me. Suburban and beautiful.
“Gerard…” Father said calmly, reaching a hand out to me, palm up and trembling. “Come down from there, you’ll fall….”
His feet crunched the broken glass scattered across the floor as he came closer, but this did little to deter me.
“I know I’ll fall.” I said, staring blankly at his concerned features. “Stay away.”
“Huh?”
“Stay away or I’ll jump.”
“Gerard, you don’t know what you’re doing…”
Worry etched into every line of his face as he tried to smile at me. His hands were shaking like crazy now as he held them out to me but I wouldn’t come back inside, if anything I moved further towards my death than into his arms.
“It’s okay…come on…come here…” he said quietly, the shaking in his hands spreading to his voice as he came nearer, his fingers barely an inch from my chest.
“TOUCH ME AND I’LL JUMP! I SWEAR IT! I’LL JUMP!!” I screamed, lifting a foot off the ledge and dangling it in the open air. “DON’T TOUCH ME FATHER!!”
Just then, when it seemed to be the end for me and my pitiful excuse for a life, we heard a small whimper that definitely wasn’t from my lips. Both our heads turned to the same spot and my mouth went dry as I realised someone was under the bed. Not in the bed, his skin (like mine) wasn’t worthy of the duvet, but under it.
“Well, well, well…” Father smirked at me before moving over to the bed and bending to look under it. “What little fuck do we have here?”
My eyes stung with angry tears as father reached under the bed with both hands and dragged out my baby brother by the scruff of the neck, practically choking him as he held him tight so he couldn’t get away. Not like he struggled much anyway. He was too busy crying his eyes out to care whether father hit him now or not.
“Mikey…” I groaned as I stared at those wide bespectacled eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“Daddy hit mommy! Mommy cried!” Mikey wailed, hanging limp in father’s arms. “I ran away and hid up here! Then I heard you screaming! Did daddy hurt you Gee?”
“Not yet.” Father said low in Mikey’s ear. “Not yet Mikey…but soon…”
“Gee!” Mikey cried, staring at me with wide teary eyes. “Don’t let him!”
“I…” My voice faded to nothing as I watched father’s hands begin to hold Mikey in a way I’d only seen him do to one other person before. Me. I jerked my head up to glare at him, my throat closing up tight as I tried to talk, but I couldn’t get a word out. No…
“You know Gerard, I never really noticed just how hot your brother is.” Father said conversationally, setting Mikey back on his feet but keeping a tight grip on his shoulders all the same. “His body…man…I’d have some of that…”
“Gee?” Mikey’s voice faltered as father’s hand went to fondle his neck and cheek, his rough fingers causing red patches to appear across Mikey’s porcelain skin. His pure skin.
“Don’t!” I said suddenly and father smirked.
“His ass, boy, what a sight.” Father grinned, one hand moving down Mikey’s trembling body to cup his backside. “So tight.”
“Gee?!” Mikey’s voice sounded so small and terrified now and I just seized up, unable to articulate a single sound.
“Hey pretty,” Father got down on his knees next to Mikey and wrapped his strong arms around my baby brother, drawing him close. “Wanna get on the bed for daddy?” he hissed, licking Mikey’s ear and making my stomach flip. Mikey whimpered and began to cry again, struggling as father picked him up.
“Stop it!” I shouted, my knuckles white as I gripped the window frame, the winter wind striking my hot skin like a thousand daggers. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. “Leave him alone!”
“Nah…I don’t think I’ll be doing that.” Father said absently.
I watched in disbelief as he put Mikey down on the bed, his tiny body trembling as he lay on his back, legs and arms straight and rigid. He looked so terrified. Father crawled up over Mikey, sitting on his shins and causing a gasp of pain to escape Mikey’s pink lips. Father leant down and began to stroke Mikey’s cheek with his thumb, smirking over at me, knowing what this was doing to me. Mikey was trying to be brave, but that didn’t stop him shaking.
“Father, please, stop!” I said frantically. “You’re scaring him!”
“I’m not scaring him, am I pretty?” Father grinned as Mikey shook his head obediently. “Aw look Gerard, he’s crying!” Father cooed, the hand not stroking Mikey’s face lowering to run up and down his slim side. “Let daddy kiss it better, hmmm?” he murmured.
I felt like throwing up as father pressed himself between Mikey’s tiny legs, his large chest practically crushing his smaller one. He took both Mikey’s wrists and forced them over his sandy haired head, just as he had done to me. Mikey’s small hands were balled into fists and I wanted to cry so bad, but couldn’t. I watched fearfully as father started to kiss Mikey’s pale neck.
“Gee?” Mikey whined, beginning to cave from his stubborn silence. “Gee, what’s he doing?”
I couldn’t answer. I just couldn’t. Still holding Mikey’s wrist with one hand, father brought his other down between Mikey’s legs. I swear I felt my heart stop beating right then and there.
“Shhh Mikey…” Father whispered loud enough for me to hear every word. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt too much. I’ll be gentle with you I promise. Now, let’s get started shall we? No point dragging it out, yeah?” he chuckled as Mikey made an almost pitiful sound, half way between a sob and a squeal.
“Father!” I shouted, hatred boiling within me. “He’s 12 for fucks sake!”
“Better sooner than later.” Father laughed.
“Gee? I don’t like it! Make it stop! Please! Make it stop!!”
Mikey began to squirm like crazy beneath father’s obstructing weight, twisting his head from side to side and whimpering louder and louder until I could hear nothing else but that. A lump rose in my throat as memories of my first time came crashing down on me. It all looked the same, right down to the way father’s fingers chafed Mikey’s tiny wrists red raw.
“Quiet down pretty,” father said quietly, releasing Mikey’s wrists and taking his small chin between finger and thumb, holding his flailing head still. “It’s time to be a big brave boy for daddy…”
“Yes daddy.” Mikey whispered fearfully and father smirked.
My eyes widened as father travelled his hand back down and began to fiddle with the button on Mikey’s jeans. It was too much.
“Father!” I called out desperately. “What will it take to make you stop this?! What do I have to do?! Tell me and I’ll do it! I’ll do anything if you just leave him alone!”
The pair of them looked at me, Mikey’s eyes brimming with a mixture of fear and hope, father’s full of triumph.
“Get down from that fucking window ledge for one thing!” he snarled, shoving his hand down Mikey’s pants and causing both Mikey and me to cry out.
“OKAY!” I shouted, leaping down from the window instantly. “Now what??”
“Take your fucking clothes off and get ready for the beating of a life time kid!” Father growled, mercifully removing his hand from Mikey’s jeans and jumping off the bed.
I looked from his angry, rage filled face, to Mikey who was crying all huddled up against the headboard, and then I looked down at the floor, a single tear tracking my cheek.
“Yes father…”
Frank’s pov
I glanced at the clock on my bedroom wall, then down at the phone number inked in biro across my forearm. It wasn’t too late to call, was it? But did I really want to? I wasn’t sure. I’d told him I loved him. Hell, I had to. I’d die without him, and there he goes trying to kill himself right in my own damn house. I want to talk to him so bad…
He didn’t say he loved me back, but I think he felt it. I could see that sparkle in his dead eyes that told me he wanted to speak, and for a moment I thought he was going to reply with the three words I so wanted to hear. But he didn’t. His eyes said it but his lips didn’t.
“Fuck it!” I exclaimed to my empty bedroom, reaching for the bedside phone and hastily punching in his home number before I could change my mind.
It rang for a very long time. It rang so long that I came to the conclusion that he was either out or asleep and was about to hang up when the line came alive.
“Hello?” I said tentatively.
Whoever was on the end of the line didn’t speak at all at first, a strange crackling of white noise my only companion. Then I heard it. Crying.
“Gerard is that you?” I asked, sitting up rigid in my chair, very alert and worried now.
“Y-Y-Yes…” he said, his voice shaking and terribly faint.
“What’s wrong?” I implored.
He didn’t answer, all I heard was this choked volley of sobs, laboured breathing full of hurt and neglect. My heart was beating wildly against my chest now and I just couldn’t control myself.
“What have you done? You didn’t-” I began but was cut off by his next words.
“N-N-Not me! It w-w-wasn’t me! I d-d-didn’t do a-a-anything!” he stammered, his voice breathy and harsh as it crackled along the line. “H-H-He…”
“He?” I couldn’t help but feel puzzled. “Who’s he, Gerard?”
But I got no reply, just this loud buzz as he began to cry harder still, digital pain whizzing from his receiver to mine. I could almost feel his tears on my neck.
“Gerard?” I said quietly. “Tell me, please?”
“I-”
However he didn’t finish, instead he broke off and the phone line went so quiet that I thought he might have hung up. Then I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps and they definitely weren’t on my end. I frowned as Gerard’s breathing hitched.
‘Gerard, hang up. Is that the fucking Social?!’
‘No father…’
And suddenly I knew. Suddenly it all made sense. All the cuts and the bruises, the fear of being touched, his skinniness, how he always hesitated when I asked whether he wanted to stay longer after school, it fit perfectly in my head and in that moment I came to a conclusion I should have realised a heck of a long time ago.
Gerard’s father beats him…
*I'll update soon sweeties, comments are <3 as always*
Author - consistant
Rating - R/NC17
Pairing - Frank/Gerard
Status - Chapter 9
Summary - Sequal to the stand alone Obey Thy Father . Gerard is now 16 and goes to school with Frank. When they first meet it's clear they are attracted to one another, but Gerard is frightened of getting involved with Frank because his father might find out and worsen the already terrible nightmare he lives in.
POV - Frank (may change at times)
Disclaimer - Don't own, don't know, don't sue. This is completely and totality fictional.
WARNING - This story contains child rape, abuse and a shit load of suicidal thinking. If you think this will offend/disturb/upset you in any way shape or form, i implore you not to read.
Previous Chapters -
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
----------------------
A Day In The Life Of Misery - Chapter Nine
Gerard’s pov
I hated walking home that day. I left Frank with his mom, who fussed and flapped about him missing a day off because of a ‘tiny little fever’ and I managed to slip out before she got round to asking me why I was there in the first place. I couldn’t tell her the real reason, I just mumbled that I’d ‘popped by to say hi’ and made a run for it afterwards. I’d told Frank to ring me later and given him my number, but I regretted it instantly. Would I be able to talk to him again after tonight?
He loved me.
I loved him.
We were perfect for each other.
The only problem with this seemingly perfect relationship was the thing waiting for me when I eventually arrived home…
It was dark when I finally climbed the steps up to my front door and stars were twinkling overhead, the moon hidden behind a sheaf of grey clouds. I hesitated as I lifted a hand to the door handle, the cold night air biting my exposed skin. I drew my coat tighter around myself and stood there shivering in indecision.
Go inside and face another night of torture or go back to Frank’s house and seek refuge?
Knowing there was only really one option open to me, I reached out and clasped the door handle in my shaking hands. I pushed the door open and stepped inside, knowing full well what to expect.
However to my great surprise I found a completely silent household greeting me. I frowned, dropping my bag and kicking off my shoes, looking around cautiously as I did so. I couldn’t see or hear anything but the rumble of the immersion, the ticking of the hall clock and the quiet empty rooms. I couldn’t hear screaming or sobbing or anything like what I was used to. This did far from reassure me; instead it filled me with dread and doubt.
Something was wrong here.
I heard a distant thud and click, and jerked my head around in the direction of the kitchen. The slow glugging of liquid spilling from a bottle was filling the still air. It sounded sinister to me and sent me shivering. Father was drinking, alone, in the kitchen. This was unusual.
“Gerard?” I heard him call, his tone slurred slightly.
“Y-Yes?” I stammered back, keeping close to the front door in case he came thundering out of the kitchen to get me as always. But he didn’t.
“Could you come in here please?” His voice sounded ragged and low, and it scared me to hear it like that. He was always in such control. What had happened?
I edged my way down the hall, dragging my feet slowly, my head lowered. My eyes darted around and my stomach churned. There was blood on the carpet. Fresh blood. I looked up once I entered the kitchen and there he was, sitting solidly at the table, whiskey bottle in hand.
He was sitting low in his chair, his body hunched over and his head slightly bent, as though he didn’t have the energy to keep his neck straight. I eyed him cautiously from behind my greasy raven locks, keeping by the fridge in case he tried anything. The fridge was right next to the back door, which meant I could make a run for it if he dared come near me.
“What is it father?” I asked quietly.
He looked up slowly, his eyes groggy and his mouth agape. He looked as though he’d been severely punched and was still reeling from the blow. He lazily lifted the whiskey bottle to his lips, taking a protracted gulp and grunted at the bitter taste. He set the bottle down, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and sighing with delight. The hot heat of the alcohol was burning strong inside him, and his eyes seemed to clear of their drunken fog. He suddenly looked more frightening to me than the first time he’d taken me all those years ago. His face was twisted with a sneer that chilled my blood and caused my heart to beat faster.
“The school called.” Father said in a low drawl, raising slowly from his chair, the legs of which dragged across the tiled floor with a loud scraping noise. “They said you didn’t come in today.”
“Oh…”
I didn’t know what to say. How could I answer? I couldn’t lie, he already knew the honest truth and there was no getting around the fact that he was still there, standing with his hands splayed out on the table and a glint in his eyes which I really didn’t like. He was waiting for my answer.
“Where did you go Gerard?” he asked, his voice steadily getting louder.
“I-”
“Did you go to the police?” Father growled, cutting me off with a hiss as I tried to protest. “Did you tell the God damn Social on me, Gerard?”
“Of course I didn’t!” I spluttered, backing up against the fridge as he came out from behind the table and began to advance towards me.
“I don’t believe you.” He hissed, his hands coming out of nowhere to grab my collar in two tight fists.
“Father!” I choked as his grip caused the material to tighten around my neck. His face was so close to mine I could smell his putrid breath, feel it scudding across my trembling face. “Please don’t!”
“Don’t what?” Father snapped, smirking as he pressed his body closer, his sturdy legs slipping between my thighs. I shuddered as my back came into sharp contact with the fridge door, causing pain to shoot up my spine.
“Don’t hurt me!” I pleaded, whimpering as his hands left my collar to grasp the backs of my thighs, bringing my legs up to wrap around his waist.
“I’m your Father, Gerard, I’d never hurt you…”
Oh the irony.
I could feel his hard on pressing into me through my jeans and I felt like being sick. No matter how many times he’s done it, it never stops being so God damn nauseating. I struggled as I felt his hands rubbing the backs of my thighs roughly. The fridge began to rock a little off the ground as I squirmed violently pushing my palms against his hulking chest, scrabbling my nails across his shirt and yelping in desperation as he began to laugh. His deep rumbling laughter made me want to hurl.
“Yeah, you do that, you fight!” Father chuckled low in his throat, lowering his dry lips to the crook of my neck, his tobacco stained teeth nipping my flesh red raw.
“Father!!” I screamed, my head thrown back and my body practically convulsing as he jammed his hips up against me so my back slammed repeatedly into the fridge, which in turn smacked hard against the kitchen wall. I was so afraid of seeing more pain…
“What’s the matter Gerard?” He asked so calmly that it sent shivers running through me like trickling cold water, falling all over me, getting inside the very core of me and making my limbs lurch. “Don’t you like this? Don’t you want this you little emo fag?!”
“DON’T FATHER!” I yelled as loud and as fiercely as I could, my throat burning as the words tore my voice to shreds. Tears were welling up in my eyes now, stinging, but I wouldn’t let them fall.
“Why-the-fuck-not?!”
With each word he spoke he thrust up hard between my denim clad legs, sending both me and the fridge smashing into the back wall, the loud bangs resounding around the empty kitchen. I sobbed and shrieked as pain exploded within every nook and cranny of my body, touching muscles that I didn’t even know I had.
“BECAUSE I’M YOUR SON!” I shouted hoarsely, wriggling with all my might, my body arching upwards involuntary as I tried to push him from me. He just smirked and chuckled as though I was nothing more than a stupid inferior animal that’d just performed an absurdly simply trick.
“No.” he hissed, his lips grazing my ear as he leant in right up close, his massive torso crushing me so I could barely breathe. “You’re just some little piece of shit that came free with your mom when I married her, you and that bastard brother of yours. I never wanted you or him, I just wanted your mother. It ain’t my fault you grew up to be a pretty little bitch who doesn’t fight the fuck back. What else am I expected to do, but this…”
He slipped his rough, callused hand down between my unwilling legs, rubbing me through my worn denim jeans. I turned my face to the side so I wouldn’t have to look at the expression of sick enjoyment that radiated from him. I whimpered. This wasn’t fair.
“See, you don’t fight back do you? I bet you enjoy it. I bet you get off on it don’t ya?” he sneered, leaning forwards and running his tongue up the side of my face, coating my cheek with stinking saliva. I cringed at the slick, slimy feeling it left me with.
“Don’t…don’t…” I whimpered, shaking my head from side to side as he found my wrists and gripped them in both his huge hands, forcing them up above my head, shoving his midriff to mine, pinning my body to the fridge so I couldn’t move.
“Shhh…” He cooed, “You don’t want your mother to hear you like this do you?”
“What?”
“She’s in the closet, I put a chair up against the door handle so she can’t get out. I smacked her about a bit first…” he grinned at the look of horror that slid upon my features.
“Mikey…?” I ventured, my voice sounding terribly small.
“Oh, him.” Father rolled his eyes, his large mannish fingers chaffing my small teenage wrists thoughtfully. “I lost him, ran off as I was beating your mother. Don’t worry, he’ll get what he deserves later…after this…”
Perhaps it was his words that made me do what I did. Perhaps it was his plans for Mikey and his violation of my mother. Or maybe it was the overpowering urge to simply be free and clean again. Whatever it was, however powerful it might have been, I found the unexpected strength I needed to pull both wrists free and to punch that motherfucker square in the fucking face.
He roared with rage, stumbling backwards and clutching his busted lip and hopefully broken nose. I slipped down the fridge to the floor, panting and flexing my now aching knuckles, hearing them crack as I did so.
“You fucker!” Father shouted, staggering towards me.
My eyes widened in desperate fear as I scrambled to my feet, slipping a little on the blood splattered tiles, and ran for it, out of the kitchen door and down the hallway. I heard him thundering after me, could feel the very floor vibrating with his footsteps and I knew I’d never reach the front door in safety.
Taking the next best route, I veered off to the right and began running up the stairs, tripping and cursing as my feet failed to find the steps I was aiming for, my hands dragging across the wall, knocking off family photographs. He was yelling at me, climbing up behind me. I saw out the corner of my eye, father making swipes for me with his blooded fingers.
“Get back here you-”
I flung myself up the last few steps and began to crawl my way down the landing to my room, my only refuge. I was so tired now I could hardly keep going, my breath hitching as a stitch tore at my side. The only thing keeping me going was him and his terrifying voice, calling after me, him running to get me. I knew that if I let that happen, if I let him get me, I’d be dead.
I practically fell over the threshold, clutching the frame for support as I stumbled inside and flung the door shut in his face. The door handle immediately began to rattle and my heartbeat accelerated as I pressed my body flat against the door as it cracked open. My weight slammed it shut and I breathed heavily, closing my eyes, whispering a prayer to no one.
“Playing it that way, huh?” I heard him snarl, “We’ll see! You wait! I’ll get you!”
Slam! Slam! Slam!
“Oh God…” I gasped, the door jarring as he flung his weight against it repeatedly, almost dislodging me. I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing myself flat to the door, my hands gripping the outer frame tight. “No…Please…”
Slam! Slam! Slam!
“Move the fuck out the way Gerard or I swear I’ll beat your pretty ass from here all the way to New Orleans!” he bellowed angrily.
“No…please…please…no…”
“MOVE!”
“NO!”
I couldn’t take this anymore. All this yelling was only going to end in my violation and my pain, not his. I knew that if I didn’t take a stand now I never would, so I did the only thing I could do. I stepped away from the door and let him enter.
“So, thinking sense now are we?” he smirked, reaching out to me.
I stared at him, watched the blood drip in a slow stream from his swollen lips and I saw my future in those whiskey soaked eyes. I saw everything I could expect. I saw my death and my livelihood rolled into one. I saw it all.
“Yes, I’ve come to my senses all right.” I said quietly, stepping away from him slowly, never breaking eye contact. He watched me, his face screwing up in confusion.
“What are you doing?” he asked as I moved still further away from him, towards the dirty looking window on the far wall.
“Something I should have done a hell of a long time ago.”
And before he could say anything, before he could even draw breath, I swung round and plunged my fist into the thin windowpane with a loud scream of pain. The sheet of glass shattered in a million glittering pieces, the shards falling like confetti to the floor, tinkling a pretty song you might hear from your grandma’s jewellery box.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” he bellowed, his face a picture of shock.
I bent double, clutching my bleeding right hand and taking deep, steadying gulps of air. Man that hurt. I raised my head with difficulty, tears welling in my ears as pain shot through me in spasms. My black hair was hanging in my eyes and blood smeared my face, but I was defiant. I wouldn’t let him hurt me anymore.
“You’re gonna pay for that you little fucker! You’re ass is gonna be so raw, you’ll be shitting blood for weeks bitch!” He snarled, taking a threatening step towards me.
“No.” I hissed.
“What?” He frowned, as though I’d said something absurd.
“NO!” I yelled, spit flying from my lips as I screwed up my face in pain, fighting back the tears. I was in such agony it was almost laughable. My hand throbbed, bleeding profusely. I could feel stray shards of glass sticking into my flesh and boy did it sting.
“Shut it! Get your ass here boy!” Father took yet another step towards me and my throat closed up with fear.
“Get away!” I cried, staggering away from him and leaping up onto the window ledge, balancing myself by leaning my aching body against the window’s outer frame. The winter wind blew across my face, whipping my black hair back off my hazel eyes so I could see the town set out below me. Suburban and beautiful.
“Gerard…” Father said calmly, reaching a hand out to me, palm up and trembling. “Come down from there, you’ll fall….”
His feet crunched the broken glass scattered across the floor as he came closer, but this did little to deter me.
“I know I’ll fall.” I said, staring blankly at his concerned features. “Stay away.”
“Huh?”
“Stay away or I’ll jump.”
“Gerard, you don’t know what you’re doing…”
Worry etched into every line of his face as he tried to smile at me. His hands were shaking like crazy now as he held them out to me but I wouldn’t come back inside, if anything I moved further towards my death than into his arms.
“It’s okay…come on…come here…” he said quietly, the shaking in his hands spreading to his voice as he came nearer, his fingers barely an inch from my chest.
“TOUCH ME AND I’LL JUMP! I SWEAR IT! I’LL JUMP!!” I screamed, lifting a foot off the ledge and dangling it in the open air. “DON’T TOUCH ME FATHER!!”
Just then, when it seemed to be the end for me and my pitiful excuse for a life, we heard a small whimper that definitely wasn’t from my lips. Both our heads turned to the same spot and my mouth went dry as I realised someone was under the bed. Not in the bed, his skin (like mine) wasn’t worthy of the duvet, but under it.
“Well, well, well…” Father smirked at me before moving over to the bed and bending to look under it. “What little fuck do we have here?”
My eyes stung with angry tears as father reached under the bed with both hands and dragged out my baby brother by the scruff of the neck, practically choking him as he held him tight so he couldn’t get away. Not like he struggled much anyway. He was too busy crying his eyes out to care whether father hit him now or not.
“Mikey…” I groaned as I stared at those wide bespectacled eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“Daddy hit mommy! Mommy cried!” Mikey wailed, hanging limp in father’s arms. “I ran away and hid up here! Then I heard you screaming! Did daddy hurt you Gee?”
“Not yet.” Father said low in Mikey’s ear. “Not yet Mikey…but soon…”
“Gee!” Mikey cried, staring at me with wide teary eyes. “Don’t let him!”
“I…” My voice faded to nothing as I watched father’s hands begin to hold Mikey in a way I’d only seen him do to one other person before. Me. I jerked my head up to glare at him, my throat closing up tight as I tried to talk, but I couldn’t get a word out. No…
“You know Gerard, I never really noticed just how hot your brother is.” Father said conversationally, setting Mikey back on his feet but keeping a tight grip on his shoulders all the same. “His body…man…I’d have some of that…”
“Gee?” Mikey’s voice faltered as father’s hand went to fondle his neck and cheek, his rough fingers causing red patches to appear across Mikey’s porcelain skin. His pure skin.
“Don’t!” I said suddenly and father smirked.
“His ass, boy, what a sight.” Father grinned, one hand moving down Mikey’s trembling body to cup his backside. “So tight.”
“Gee?!” Mikey’s voice sounded so small and terrified now and I just seized up, unable to articulate a single sound.
“Hey pretty,” Father got down on his knees next to Mikey and wrapped his strong arms around my baby brother, drawing him close. “Wanna get on the bed for daddy?” he hissed, licking Mikey’s ear and making my stomach flip. Mikey whimpered and began to cry again, struggling as father picked him up.
“Stop it!” I shouted, my knuckles white as I gripped the window frame, the winter wind striking my hot skin like a thousand daggers. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. “Leave him alone!”
“Nah…I don’t think I’ll be doing that.” Father said absently.
I watched in disbelief as he put Mikey down on the bed, his tiny body trembling as he lay on his back, legs and arms straight and rigid. He looked so terrified. Father crawled up over Mikey, sitting on his shins and causing a gasp of pain to escape Mikey’s pink lips. Father leant down and began to stroke Mikey’s cheek with his thumb, smirking over at me, knowing what this was doing to me. Mikey was trying to be brave, but that didn’t stop him shaking.
“Father, please, stop!” I said frantically. “You’re scaring him!”
“I’m not scaring him, am I pretty?” Father grinned as Mikey shook his head obediently. “Aw look Gerard, he’s crying!” Father cooed, the hand not stroking Mikey’s face lowering to run up and down his slim side. “Let daddy kiss it better, hmmm?” he murmured.
I felt like throwing up as father pressed himself between Mikey’s tiny legs, his large chest practically crushing his smaller one. He took both Mikey’s wrists and forced them over his sandy haired head, just as he had done to me. Mikey’s small hands were balled into fists and I wanted to cry so bad, but couldn’t. I watched fearfully as father started to kiss Mikey’s pale neck.
“Gee?” Mikey whined, beginning to cave from his stubborn silence. “Gee, what’s he doing?”
I couldn’t answer. I just couldn’t. Still holding Mikey’s wrist with one hand, father brought his other down between Mikey’s legs. I swear I felt my heart stop beating right then and there.
“Shhh Mikey…” Father whispered loud enough for me to hear every word. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt too much. I’ll be gentle with you I promise. Now, let’s get started shall we? No point dragging it out, yeah?” he chuckled as Mikey made an almost pitiful sound, half way between a sob and a squeal.
“Father!” I shouted, hatred boiling within me. “He’s 12 for fucks sake!”
“Better sooner than later.” Father laughed.
“Gee? I don’t like it! Make it stop! Please! Make it stop!!”
Mikey began to squirm like crazy beneath father’s obstructing weight, twisting his head from side to side and whimpering louder and louder until I could hear nothing else but that. A lump rose in my throat as memories of my first time came crashing down on me. It all looked the same, right down to the way father’s fingers chafed Mikey’s tiny wrists red raw.
“Quiet down pretty,” father said quietly, releasing Mikey’s wrists and taking his small chin between finger and thumb, holding his flailing head still. “It’s time to be a big brave boy for daddy…”
“Yes daddy.” Mikey whispered fearfully and father smirked.
My eyes widened as father travelled his hand back down and began to fiddle with the button on Mikey’s jeans. It was too much.
“Father!” I called out desperately. “What will it take to make you stop this?! What do I have to do?! Tell me and I’ll do it! I’ll do anything if you just leave him alone!”
The pair of them looked at me, Mikey’s eyes brimming with a mixture of fear and hope, father’s full of triumph.
“Get down from that fucking window ledge for one thing!” he snarled, shoving his hand down Mikey’s pants and causing both Mikey and me to cry out.
“OKAY!” I shouted, leaping down from the window instantly. “Now what??”
“Take your fucking clothes off and get ready for the beating of a life time kid!” Father growled, mercifully removing his hand from Mikey’s jeans and jumping off the bed.
I looked from his angry, rage filled face, to Mikey who was crying all huddled up against the headboard, and then I looked down at the floor, a single tear tracking my cheek.
“Yes father…”
Frank’s pov
I glanced at the clock on my bedroom wall, then down at the phone number inked in biro across my forearm. It wasn’t too late to call, was it? But did I really want to? I wasn’t sure. I’d told him I loved him. Hell, I had to. I’d die without him, and there he goes trying to kill himself right in my own damn house. I want to talk to him so bad…
He didn’t say he loved me back, but I think he felt it. I could see that sparkle in his dead eyes that told me he wanted to speak, and for a moment I thought he was going to reply with the three words I so wanted to hear. But he didn’t. His eyes said it but his lips didn’t.
“Fuck it!” I exclaimed to my empty bedroom, reaching for the bedside phone and hastily punching in his home number before I could change my mind.
It rang for a very long time. It rang so long that I came to the conclusion that he was either out or asleep and was about to hang up when the line came alive.
“Hello?” I said tentatively.
Whoever was on the end of the line didn’t speak at all at first, a strange crackling of white noise my only companion. Then I heard it. Crying.
“Gerard is that you?” I asked, sitting up rigid in my chair, very alert and worried now.
“Y-Y-Yes…” he said, his voice shaking and terribly faint.
“What’s wrong?” I implored.
He didn’t answer, all I heard was this choked volley of sobs, laboured breathing full of hurt and neglect. My heart was beating wildly against my chest now and I just couldn’t control myself.
“What have you done? You didn’t-” I began but was cut off by his next words.
“N-N-Not me! It w-w-wasn’t me! I d-d-didn’t do a-a-anything!” he stammered, his voice breathy and harsh as it crackled along the line. “H-H-He…”
“He?” I couldn’t help but feel puzzled. “Who’s he, Gerard?”
But I got no reply, just this loud buzz as he began to cry harder still, digital pain whizzing from his receiver to mine. I could almost feel his tears on my neck.
“Gerard?” I said quietly. “Tell me, please?”
“I-”
However he didn’t finish, instead he broke off and the phone line went so quiet that I thought he might have hung up. Then I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps and they definitely weren’t on my end. I frowned as Gerard’s breathing hitched.
‘Gerard, hang up. Is that the fucking Social?!’
‘No father…’
And suddenly I knew. Suddenly it all made sense. All the cuts and the bruises, the fear of being touched, his skinniness, how he always hesitated when I asked whether he wanted to stay longer after school, it fit perfectly in my head and in that moment I came to a conclusion I should have realised a heck of a long time ago.
Gerard’s father beats him…
*I'll update soon sweeties, comments are <3 as always*