seven eleven // frank iero

ett

who could've known that switching from an angsty lullaby by the misfits to a rowdy round of muffled moans would be a child's play. frank did.

because this shit went on for at least 10 minutes every night. nothing ever changed, only the men that busted into the living room, pushing mom before them. none of this shit was new to frank.

in fact, every time the fake lust, the potent scratching of nails against the living room table and the high pitched porno movie type moaning toned down he'd worry his pessimistic ass off. some of the men were more gentle while some threw punches at the sound of displeasure.

every once in a while he'd peek at them from the ninth step in the staircase, especially if he suspected she'd brought an extra rough one. the sight didn't bother him anymore, he'd gotten used to the vulgar scenes and the chilling emotions racing through the air.

he reached for the tv remote across the untidy bed. sometimes there'd be some provocative documentary on the old thing. frank liked watching documentaries. he never understood why. but he liked them. a few days earlier he came upon one about ukrainian street kids. it caught his attention for a good half hour, but then the power cut off and he never got to see the haunting irked faces of the suffering kids again. the pictures of rain pouring onto their torn clothes were long gone.

mom probably forgot the bills again, he thought, but under late hours a buzz woke him up, leading a vague light from the tv with it.

nothing stimulating was on that night, none of the channels had anything to offer.

the ancient box spring made a funny noise as frank not hastily rose from the bed. loud enough to wake the neighbors up, he always thought.

now he wanted to check up on his mom as the moaning had stopped. not rarely would she pass out afterwards or even in the middle of it from all the booze and blow. if she did, the man could take advantage of her in not so pleasant ways, to put it like that. and even though frank hated his mom - because he did - he cared about her. even though she was a crackhead maniac he cared.

the bedroom door slid open and out came frank iero - the savior of the day. he was gonna prance downstairs with his shield and his sword to boldly protect his mother from whatever beast she'd been with that time. he was gonna do that, just excluding the shield and sword part.

a familiar waft of tobacco reached his nose just as he placed foot on the first step. his fingers were starting to tremble, his body itching for a cigarette. not now, he kindly told his addicted mind.

he took a deep breath.
"hello?" he shouted from the top of the stairs. doing his best to make his voice sound fierce and somewhat valiant wasn't always easy. but really he wasn't scared. wasn't scared of the varying strangers in his house every night. the fussy parts of his voice was the only thing that made it seem like it.

nobody answered.
"hello?" he asked the tranquil room again. by the time he reached the last step a man appeared in the hallway with a cigarette in hand and a pair of sleepy eyes. frank estimated him to be about 5 foot 7.

"hello, kid," the man answered, his voice significantly deeper and more aged than frank would've thought. he looked like he was in his forties or fifties, but his voice belonged to a man past sixty. maybe it was the cigarettes' fault.

"stay away from her," frank boldly spat out.
"calm down, kid. i would never do anything bad to her."
"prove to me that i can trust you?"

the man sighed and took a few steps back, towards the couch where frank's mom was in a heavy sleep. he diverted his gaze towards her, and started speaking again.

"we've known each other for quite a while, you see."
he coughed a few times before continuing.
"it must've been a good.. 20 years ago since we first met. she was this gorgeous young girl who had just started working with me and one night we just.. hit it off. i never saw her again after that. i got fired and moved back to washington to be with my family."

"and now you're coming back to take advantage of her? fucking disgusting," frank mumbled, just loud enough to hear.

the man just shrugged. after mere seconds of silence he spoke up with a calm, convincing voice.
"i'll stay here for a few nights to look after her, that's okay right, kid?"
"i don't trust you."
"i promise to take good care of her," he said, now in a tone that sounded more desperate than anything.

frank spun around, aiming for the door. because he didn't want to see the man be all over his mother, and he didn't want to see her severely hungover face by the time dawn stroke.

"hey kid!"

frank ignored the coat hanging on the wall, and the man too of course.

"my name is sylvester."

then the door shut.