It's Not Really Wrong... Just Hard To Comprehend. Chapter Nine. [9/9]
Title: It's Not Really Wrong... Just Hard To Comprehend. [9/9]
Author: lithiumreactant with influences from rolfxatxlush
\Pairing: David Desrosiers / Frank Iero [Mention of David Desrosiers / Joel Madden]
Rating: NC-17 [ Crude language, self-mutilation, rape, suicide and sexual content ]
POV: First. David-centric.
Word Count: 13,747.
Summary: I hadn’t moved from couch in approximately twelve-thousand-two-hundred-forty minutes. That’s how much time I had on my hands. I had enough time to convert eight and half days into minutes. That also happens to be two-hundred-four hours… just in case you were wondering.
Disclaimer: Please, if I owned these guys I'd be filming not writing.
Authors Note: Yes, I realize this in David's POV in a MCR community but believe me it is incredibly Frankie oriented. Plus... Frank/David pairing is absolutely adorable.
Dedications: rolfxatxlush because she's awesome and helps me edit. Also anyone who reads and/or comments. Everyone has been so supportive. Thank you so much.
Disclaimer: Please, if I owned these guys I'd be filming not writing.
Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight.
It’s Not Really Wrong… Just Hard To Comprehend
& Chapter Nine &
+Back Home+
“You son of a bitch.”
He tossed me just like I was some kind of rag doll. I crumpled up on the floor, shaking. I immediately knew that I had been found out.
“You wonder why I get so pissed off at you and then you do stupid shit like this, David. Someone’s gotta teach you.”
One kick. Two kick. Three kick. No satisfying crack. That probably only made him madder. He reached back down, jerking me up onto my feet as my stomach and ribs shrieked in agony.
The back of his hand smashed itself onto my face. I felt my neck twist violently, sending more pain shooting down my spine.
“Joel…” I bit my lip, just barely whimpering.
“Oh what? You don’t want me to mess with that pretty face of yours? You afraid your pretty little boyfriend will leave you?”
“He’s not-“
“Your boyfriend? He’s just a friend?”
“…Yeah.”
Smack. I fell back onto the floor, feeling the metallic taste of blood fill my mouth.
“Way to go. Lie to me now.”
Another swift kick. He just stared at me and I coughed slightly, splattering the floor with small bits of my blood. Joel roughly grabbed my shoulder and jerked me until I was lying with my back on the floor. He knelt close and then slammed my head to one side so my neck was exposed.
“All your ‘friends’ leave hickeys on you?” He reached into his pocket, and flipped open a silver blade. “What do you say we cut it off, David?”
Fear finally set in. I’d been beaten plenty of times, but he’d never used anything besides his fists. I choked back tears and whimpered more.
Frankie, where are you?!
“Joel… please…”
“So did your little boyfriend tell you that we fucked?”
I froze.
“Apparently not,” a smirk of pure evil spread across his face. “That’s how he found out about you. He probably forgot to mention that. Then again he was probably to busy fucking you.”
“We never-“
“Oh, so he was probably using his ‘nice-guy’ act? The one where he pretends to start crying and explains how he came to sleep with you but couldn’t do it? Or maybe the one where he goes on about how his husband ignored him?”
…He lied.
“You’re not stupid, David. You knew about Frank Iero. You didn’t actually think that he loved you, did you? You can’t possibly be that naïve.”
I think I’d finally found my breaking point. My motivation to live… had been lying to me. I knew Joel would do anything to hurt me… but he couldn’t have known Frank had done both of those things. He just couldn’t! It wasn’t possible!
“So you didn’t fuck?”
“…No.”
“Wow. Look at you. Not even the whore of the century would fuck you.”
All the comfort that I’d slowly been building up to crumbled beneath me. I really was nothing. Worthless. Pathetic. A waste of flesh.
“And don’t think it’s because you’re not pretty enough, because he’s fucked worse. You’re just so fucking desperate. You’d do anything for it. I know you would.”
Why wasn’t he here? It had to be past two o’clock. Why wasn’t Frankie here? He’s supposed to swoop in and save me. Right? Just like every cliché. Like kissing in the rain. He’s supposed to save me.
Joel grabbed my head and roughly crashed his lips down onto mine. The image of Frankie and me kissing entered my mind and I pushed Joel off. He looked at me, glaring.
I had just signed my death wish.
He gripped the blade tighter and grabbed me, jerking me up with him and shoving me into a wall. His arms pinned mine to the wall and he pressed his lips to mine again, bruising them. My entire body felt slimy and wrong. I turned my head away. I wasn’t supposed to feel this. I was capable of feeling other things.
But Frankie was just a lie. He was another person out to use me and abuse me. All those feelings that been creations of my overactive imagination.
“Don’t turn your head away,” he hit the side of my head so I was looking at him again and then placed the cold blade to my face. “I’ll just make it hurt more.”
Hot tears started to run down my face. Not because I was afraid, but because I’d realized that the person who I had finally started to love… was nothing more than an actor and a liar. I’d made him up. All the good things I saw in him were just lies that he fabricated into my head. Every emotion I felt was just some kind of rope to lead me on.
I tried to get loose; I wanted to be alone so bad. One of his hands still kept me to the wall, rendering me helpless. A couple whimpers escaped my mouth and I faintly mumbled something about letting me go so I could mourn over Frankie.
Wrong thing to say. My head hit the wall with such force that my world went black for a few seconds. Joel’s fingers twisted around my neck and I felt the blade slide across my collar sending a hot searing pain along my body.
“Say his name one more time and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”
I went limp. He was going to win no matter what I did. He was going to rape me and then kill me.
“There. Good boy,” he smirked and dragged me in the direction of the bedroom. I didn’t resist. Why should I? What was left?
I felt wronged, lied to, hurt, betrayed, used, pathetic, worthless, wasted, trashy… I vowed that if Joel’s murder attempt didn’t kill me, I’d finish it myself.
He tossed me again and I felt every part of my body ache. My head, arms, legs, ribs, chest… heart… everything ached in a dull, unforgiving pain.
Joel used the knife to get my shirt off. He cut it, not at all being careful. My body was littered with little cuts that bled without relent. I just shut my eyes and prayed it’d be over soon. I didn’t want to hurt anymore.
+++
He slammed into me. No lube. No spit. Just… him. I was crying profusely by then. He just muttered things about how good it felt and why he hadn’t thought of this earlier. Joel said he wasn’t going to kill me… he said he’d found a new use for me.
I tried to pretend that it wasn’t happening, but with every slam I was reminded that it was real and that I would continue to be used. I’d continue to be Joel’s toy. I was choking back sobs. I never thought I’d end up being raped. He’d always convinced me that I was too pathetic for even that.
+++
”Davey, what do you want to be when you grow up?”
“I’m gonna be a rock star,” I smiled over at Julie as we continued to swing ourselves on the tire swing in our backyard.
“You want to be a rock star?”
“No,” I shook my head. “I’m gonna be.”
“Well, I’m gonna be a princess!”
I chuckled a little.
“Are you ever gonna get married?”
“Yeah. To the love of my life! We’re gonna live happily ever after.”
“Hey!” She giggled and swung with me more. “Only princesses get to do that!”
“Well maybe I’ve gonna be a rock star princess!”
“But you’re not a girl!” She giggled more.
“So? Can’t I live happily ever after too?”
“Yeah,” she leaned across and wrapped her little arms around me, hugging me close. “But only because you’re my brother.”
+++
I wonder if Julie meant to lie to me. I wonder if she knew I’d end up like this. No… she couldn’t have… she was only six back then.
Joel pushed me aside. Finished with me. I weakly buried myself under the covers, turning away from him and continuing with my silent sobs. I felt him get up and dress himself.
“That was fun,” he smirked, pressing his mouth to my face and running his fingers through my hair. “We’ll have to do it again.”
I turned and buried my face into a pillow, trying not to look at him. He laughed softly and walked out of the room.
The front door slammed shut and I heard his car start and then leave.
My body quivered underneath the now bloodstained sheets. I felt so incredibly broken… like nothing could fix me. I moved slightly, pulling my boxers on and then slid out of the bed and onto the floor.
My head was so dizzy from the loss of blood and I only just barely stood up after using the wall as a support. My eyes caught a glint of silver and I reached over to the nightstand and removed Joel’s switchblade from it, clutching it tightly as I made my way to the bathroom.
I opened the door and then proceeded to collapse onto the floor, crawling to the toilet and emptying the contents of my stomach into it. I felt sick. Slimy. I couldn’t handle this anymore. I wanted it to end.
My hand clutched the blade tighter and I crawled into the bathtub, figuring that if I was going to off myself, I might as well make it easy for people to clean up.
A long time ago I figured out that it was easier to have external pain than internal pain. And even though every part of my body was hurting, it still wasn’t enough to take my mind off of the internal ache that was tearing me apart.
At first I just dug small slits into my arms, watching the crimson seep onto the tub and then down the drain. It was gorgeous. The blood that slowly poured from me, leaving behind only cuts and then trails of scarlet.
I soon got bored, deciding to be more artistic about it. I hadn’t left a suicide note… and I knew everyone would want to know why.
Everyone… There was no everyone. There would be Pierre, Jeff, Chuck and Seb. That’s it. They’d wonder why their bassist killed himself and then they’d be pissed because they’d have to find a new one.
Everyone would think it’s wrong. But it’s not. It wasn’t wrong. In fact, this was finally right. I’d been used for so long… that it was finally my turn to escape. Finally my turn to get what I wanted.
I gripped the blade, feeling dizzier and dizzier as I etched words into my flesh along the waistband of my boxers.
”It’s not really wrong… just hard to comprehend.”
Author: lithiumreactant with influences from rolfxatxlush
\Pairing: David Desrosiers / Frank Iero [Mention of David Desrosiers / Joel Madden]
Rating: NC-17 [ Crude language, self-mutilation, rape, suicide and sexual content ]
POV: First. David-centric.
Word Count: 13,747.
Summary: I hadn’t moved from couch in approximately twelve-thousand-two-hundred-forty minutes. That’s how much time I had on my hands. I had enough time to convert eight and half days into minutes. That also happens to be two-hundred-four hours… just in case you were wondering.
Disclaimer: Please, if I owned these guys I'd be filming not writing.
Authors Note: Yes, I realize this in David's POV in a MCR community but believe me it is incredibly Frankie oriented. Plus... Frank/David pairing is absolutely adorable.
Dedications: rolfxatxlush because she's awesome and helps me edit. Also anyone who reads and/or comments. Everyone has been so supportive. Thank you so much.
Disclaimer: Please, if I owned these guys I'd be filming not writing.
Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight.
It’s Not Really Wrong… Just Hard To Comprehend
& Chapter Nine &
+Back Home+
“You son of a bitch.”
He tossed me just like I was some kind of rag doll. I crumpled up on the floor, shaking. I immediately knew that I had been found out.
“You wonder why I get so pissed off at you and then you do stupid shit like this, David. Someone’s gotta teach you.”
One kick. Two kick. Three kick. No satisfying crack. That probably only made him madder. He reached back down, jerking me up onto my feet as my stomach and ribs shrieked in agony.
The back of his hand smashed itself onto my face. I felt my neck twist violently, sending more pain shooting down my spine.
“Joel…” I bit my lip, just barely whimpering.
“Oh what? You don’t want me to mess with that pretty face of yours? You afraid your pretty little boyfriend will leave you?”
“He’s not-“
“Your boyfriend? He’s just a friend?”
“…Yeah.”
Smack. I fell back onto the floor, feeling the metallic taste of blood fill my mouth.
“Way to go. Lie to me now.”
Another swift kick. He just stared at me and I coughed slightly, splattering the floor with small bits of my blood. Joel roughly grabbed my shoulder and jerked me until I was lying with my back on the floor. He knelt close and then slammed my head to one side so my neck was exposed.
“All your ‘friends’ leave hickeys on you?” He reached into his pocket, and flipped open a silver blade. “What do you say we cut it off, David?”
Fear finally set in. I’d been beaten plenty of times, but he’d never used anything besides his fists. I choked back tears and whimpered more.
Frankie, where are you?!
“Joel… please…”
“So did your little boyfriend tell you that we fucked?”
I froze.
“Apparently not,” a smirk of pure evil spread across his face. “That’s how he found out about you. He probably forgot to mention that. Then again he was probably to busy fucking you.”
“We never-“
“Oh, so he was probably using his ‘nice-guy’ act? The one where he pretends to start crying and explains how he came to sleep with you but couldn’t do it? Or maybe the one where he goes on about how his husband ignored him?”
…He lied.
“You’re not stupid, David. You knew about Frank Iero. You didn’t actually think that he loved you, did you? You can’t possibly be that naïve.”
I think I’d finally found my breaking point. My motivation to live… had been lying to me. I knew Joel would do anything to hurt me… but he couldn’t have known Frank had done both of those things. He just couldn’t! It wasn’t possible!
“So you didn’t fuck?”
“…No.”
“Wow. Look at you. Not even the whore of the century would fuck you.”
All the comfort that I’d slowly been building up to crumbled beneath me. I really was nothing. Worthless. Pathetic. A waste of flesh.
“And don’t think it’s because you’re not pretty enough, because he’s fucked worse. You’re just so fucking desperate. You’d do anything for it. I know you would.”
Why wasn’t he here? It had to be past two o’clock. Why wasn’t Frankie here? He’s supposed to swoop in and save me. Right? Just like every cliché. Like kissing in the rain. He’s supposed to save me.
Joel grabbed my head and roughly crashed his lips down onto mine. The image of Frankie and me kissing entered my mind and I pushed Joel off. He looked at me, glaring.
I had just signed my death wish.
He gripped the blade tighter and grabbed me, jerking me up with him and shoving me into a wall. His arms pinned mine to the wall and he pressed his lips to mine again, bruising them. My entire body felt slimy and wrong. I turned my head away. I wasn’t supposed to feel this. I was capable of feeling other things.
But Frankie was just a lie. He was another person out to use me and abuse me. All those feelings that been creations of my overactive imagination.
“Don’t turn your head away,” he hit the side of my head so I was looking at him again and then placed the cold blade to my face. “I’ll just make it hurt more.”
Hot tears started to run down my face. Not because I was afraid, but because I’d realized that the person who I had finally started to love… was nothing more than an actor and a liar. I’d made him up. All the good things I saw in him were just lies that he fabricated into my head. Every emotion I felt was just some kind of rope to lead me on.
I tried to get loose; I wanted to be alone so bad. One of his hands still kept me to the wall, rendering me helpless. A couple whimpers escaped my mouth and I faintly mumbled something about letting me go so I could mourn over Frankie.
Wrong thing to say. My head hit the wall with such force that my world went black for a few seconds. Joel’s fingers twisted around my neck and I felt the blade slide across my collar sending a hot searing pain along my body.
“Say his name one more time and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”
I went limp. He was going to win no matter what I did. He was going to rape me and then kill me.
“There. Good boy,” he smirked and dragged me in the direction of the bedroom. I didn’t resist. Why should I? What was left?
I felt wronged, lied to, hurt, betrayed, used, pathetic, worthless, wasted, trashy… I vowed that if Joel’s murder attempt didn’t kill me, I’d finish it myself.
He tossed me again and I felt every part of my body ache. My head, arms, legs, ribs, chest… heart… everything ached in a dull, unforgiving pain.
Joel used the knife to get my shirt off. He cut it, not at all being careful. My body was littered with little cuts that bled without relent. I just shut my eyes and prayed it’d be over soon. I didn’t want to hurt anymore.
+++
He slammed into me. No lube. No spit. Just… him. I was crying profusely by then. He just muttered things about how good it felt and why he hadn’t thought of this earlier. Joel said he wasn’t going to kill me… he said he’d found a new use for me.
I tried to pretend that it wasn’t happening, but with every slam I was reminded that it was real and that I would continue to be used. I’d continue to be Joel’s toy. I was choking back sobs. I never thought I’d end up being raped. He’d always convinced me that I was too pathetic for even that.
+++
”Davey, what do you want to be when you grow up?”
“I’m gonna be a rock star,” I smiled over at Julie as we continued to swing ourselves on the tire swing in our backyard.
“You want to be a rock star?”
“No,” I shook my head. “I’m gonna be.”
“Well, I’m gonna be a princess!”
I chuckled a little.
“Are you ever gonna get married?”
“Yeah. To the love of my life! We’re gonna live happily ever after.”
“Hey!” She giggled and swung with me more. “Only princesses get to do that!”
“Well maybe I’ve gonna be a rock star princess!”
“But you’re not a girl!” She giggled more.
“So? Can’t I live happily ever after too?”
“Yeah,” she leaned across and wrapped her little arms around me, hugging me close. “But only because you’re my brother.”
+++
I wonder if Julie meant to lie to me. I wonder if she knew I’d end up like this. No… she couldn’t have… she was only six back then.
Joel pushed me aside. Finished with me. I weakly buried myself under the covers, turning away from him and continuing with my silent sobs. I felt him get up and dress himself.
“That was fun,” he smirked, pressing his mouth to my face and running his fingers through my hair. “We’ll have to do it again.”
I turned and buried my face into a pillow, trying not to look at him. He laughed softly and walked out of the room.
The front door slammed shut and I heard his car start and then leave.
My body quivered underneath the now bloodstained sheets. I felt so incredibly broken… like nothing could fix me. I moved slightly, pulling my boxers on and then slid out of the bed and onto the floor.
My head was so dizzy from the loss of blood and I only just barely stood up after using the wall as a support. My eyes caught a glint of silver and I reached over to the nightstand and removed Joel’s switchblade from it, clutching it tightly as I made my way to the bathroom.
I opened the door and then proceeded to collapse onto the floor, crawling to the toilet and emptying the contents of my stomach into it. I felt sick. Slimy. I couldn’t handle this anymore. I wanted it to end.
My hand clutched the blade tighter and I crawled into the bathtub, figuring that if I was going to off myself, I might as well make it easy for people to clean up.
A long time ago I figured out that it was easier to have external pain than internal pain. And even though every part of my body was hurting, it still wasn’t enough to take my mind off of the internal ache that was tearing me apart.
At first I just dug small slits into my arms, watching the crimson seep onto the tub and then down the drain. It was gorgeous. The blood that slowly poured from me, leaving behind only cuts and then trails of scarlet.
I soon got bored, deciding to be more artistic about it. I hadn’t left a suicide note… and I knew everyone would want to know why.
Everyone… There was no everyone. There would be Pierre, Jeff, Chuck and Seb. That’s it. They’d wonder why their bassist killed himself and then they’d be pissed because they’d have to find a new one.
Everyone would think it’s wrong. But it’s not. It wasn’t wrong. In fact, this was finally right. I’d been used for so long… that it was finally my turn to escape. Finally my turn to get what I wanted.
I gripped the blade, feeling dizzier and dizzier as I etched words into my flesh along the waistband of my boxers.
”It’s not really wrong… just hard to comprehend.”