Out Of Control

The One In Which Frank Cries Alot

Frank's pov.

Content Warning for death and police (not violence) oh, and a slight mention of guns.

Tinny music filtered out of my headphones and into the surrounding air, I bobbed my head to the beat of Jesus Of Suburbia as I headed towards the kitchen to retrieve some much needed caffeine.

I stumbled down the dark stairs, half from tiredness and half from the lack of light. I switched on the one in the yellow light hit my eyes, making me hiss slightly. I trudged down the hall to the kitchen, my plaid pyjama pants dragging along the floor.

A solid knock sounded out through the house, startling me, making me jump. I yanked my earphones out and adjusted my hole-ridden misfits shirt.

My curiosity peaked as I headed towards the door, thoughts racing through my head about who in their right mind would be knocking on my door at half one in the morning.

I opened the door cautiously, keeping one hand on the door handle, ready to slam it shut in the case of a murderer/sales person. I was, however, not met with a murderer or someone selling encyclopedias. It was a police officer. Eyes stern, hair pulled back in a tight bun behind her head, so tight, in fact, the roots of her brunette hair pulled sharply at her temples, accentuating the slight wrinkles that spread out from the corners of her eyes. Her vest that lay over a black shirt was littered with a multitude mix of various weapons. My eyes landed on a gun that sat gleefully on her side. I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of how exposed I was. Her eyes scanned over, similar to that of predator about to pounce on an unsuspecting rabbit. Making me feel very much like prey.

"Are you Frank Iero?" She asked. Her authoritative tone snapping me out of my inspection.

"Y-yes?" I answered, though it came out more like a question than a statement.

"I have information regarding your mother." She informed me, her voice seemingly uncaring. Almost robotic.

"Where is she? Is she okay?" My mind flew back to six years ago. The similar scenario playing in the back of my mind as I wrung my hands together nervously. Sweat beaded my forehead as memories of my father's funeral flew around my head.

"She's been involved in a fatal car crash."

Time stopped. The world fell apart around me. It felt as though my body had forgot to function, no air entered my lungs, no blood circulated through my veins, my brain failed to process the million thoughts that tried to make themselves apparent. This couldn't be real, becuase my mother could not be dead.

The voice of the police officer, though loud, seemed muted to my ears. Her voice detailed how she had died, my brain barely registered her speech, let alone the contents of it. She ended her speech by informing me that my aunt had been contacted and would be round in the morning. The officer finished with a curt nod, leaving me swaying on the doormat.

My brain finally recollected my thoughts and I gathered myself together enough to close the door. I leaned against the solid oak, my head tilted back, staring at the blank ceiling as though looking for an explanation. I slid down the door, the hard wood pressing into my back uncomfortably. I sat, slumped, on the floor. My brain was void of any emotion. Smoke enveloped my soul, numbing down my inhibitions and covering my emotions.

My bottom lip began to tremble. The first of many tears fell down my pale face.

I let out a sob, not bothering to quieten myself. After all, there was no one in the house to hear me. I leaned my head forward to rest on the tops of my knees, my hands gripping my scalp almost painfully.

Pain and disbelief racked through my shaking body, I desperately tried to wipe away my tears, but to no avail. My hands shook furiously as I brought them away from my face. The shapes blurred around me, a sharp ringing travelled around my head, confusing me further.

I felt something wet nosing at my hand, a small whine brought me back to reality slightly. My cries ceased slightly as I looked down at my side to see Sweet Pea was sat at by me, eyeing me. She scratched at my arm, whining louder. I let out a pained sob before scooping her up into my arms. Her grey fur soaked up my tears as I cried into her.

I tried to speak to break the sound of my sobs however my speech came out scratchy and garbled. I stared up at the ceiling, redirecting the flow of my tears to fall down my neck uncomfortably. I drew a shaky breath, my hands fiddling with my dogs collar absentmindedly.

I sat in the same position for hours, my legs became cramped and my back stiff but still I did not move. The house seemed all to quiet, a thin veil hidden over everything, as if, it too, was mourning the loss of my mother.

A/N: she ded.

okay so I have a quick question for y'all and I need you to answer honestly: do y'all slip into a weird headspace where you have no real sense of anything and you do very stupid shit without being aware of the consequences and when you finally break out of it you barely remember anything and have to go around scrambling to pick up the pieces of what you've caused? Because I have been reliably informed that this is not normal. Christ on a cracker.

How are y'all doing? You better be taking care of yourselves otherwise I'll track you down and hand feed you homemade soup (ರ ~ ರ)

Bai Bai duckiez 🍆