Cutting Edge (Frerard)

18

Gerard.
•

I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself.

I'm a filthy, wretched little whore.
And I'm letting it happen.

Bert wanted me to stay off school, so I did. Bert wanted me to dress like a girl, so I did. Bert did so many thing to me, so I sat and took it. This had been happening two days, two fucking days and I was already covered in wounds a dead man would have.

One person had been on my mind through all of this, Frank. I wondered how much more destroyed his body was, how much more weight he was losing.

I don't care about how I weighed 46 kg. I wanted him to be okay.

 "Sugar?.." Bert said, whispering huskly into my ear.  "You okay baby?"

"Y-y-ye-yes." I stuttered weakly, I'm so weak.

"Stop talking like you have fucking problems, it's a real turn off. As soon as possible you're going back to your house. I can't stand the sight of you, whore."

"B-b-but.." I can't go home.  I'm covered head to toe in bruises and cuts self inflicted and not.

I could go and find Frank. I could go to his house. I need to know if he's okay.

"Talking back to me?!" He screamed.

"No! I'm sorry!" Pathetic.

"You better be, pass me my belt sweetheart. Your back needs some more marks."

-

I'm so tired. I've been used more times than anyone should be, one is bad enough. Bert kicked me out, he couldn't stand the sight of me, I can't stand the sight of me anymore.

I ran down the street crying, tears streaming down by bruised face. It hurt. So much.

I managed to snag my phone off of Bert before he made me leave, so I called Frank. No answer, again. Nothing.

Fuck, Something isn't right.