Shut Up && Play -- Frank Iero Fanfiction

[façade]

ooh, his room is right next to hers? : D

i suppose this is her chance to start over. i hope she doesn't start cutting again/do something bad to herself.

update!

[façade]

ooh, his room is right next to hers? : D

i suppose this is her chance to start over. i hope she doesn't start cutting again/do something bad to herself.

update!

[disaster notes.]

Mmmmmhmmm. I actually have a good portion of this story written already.

Chapter 2

The lunch period always made me feel ... awkward. I hated staring at all of the people with real mental illnesses. Some would rock back and forth in their seats, others would mumble, and some just sat there, mouth open and drooling.

They all made my skin crawl.

I jumped slightly as a gray-blue tray was slammed down in front of me, the hands holding them tattooed with the word "Halloween". Only one person could have a tattoo like that.

Frank.

I slowly looked up at him, my face nearly blank. Frank smiled down at me, before swinging his legs onto the bench and plopping down across from me. He was still smiling. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what he was doing. Was he going to talk to me? Or was he going to throw that plate of rice down my shirt?

"Hey." Frank said with a nod, taking a spoonful of rice and putting it into his mouth, never taking his eyes off of my face. I blinked a few times.

"Hi." I whispered before looking down at my plate, arranging my own rice so that it resembled a face. Now it kind of reminded me of my Aunt Ernest. Shivering from the horrid memories, I flattened out the rice mountain.
"So ... what's up?" Frank asked me. I didn't say anything.

"Well ... since we're neighbors now ... maybe we should get to know each other." Frank suggested, opening up his milk carton and taking a sip. I simply stared at him, biting down on my lower lip.

"Seriously?" I asked him, feeling my throat hurt. I hadn't said a word since I got here.

"Yeah," Frank said with a sincere smile, "So ... what landed you in this dump?" He asked with a snort. Oh, he thought he was funny. How cute. How darling. I pushed around my rice for a minute. I could feel the air around us becoming impatient. Finally, I threw down my spoon and yanked back my left sleeve, ripping the gauze off of my forearm. From my wrist to my elbow were cuts and scars, littering my skin.

"Woah. All those?" Frank asked me softly as he pointed out all of the fresh ones. There were quite a few. Gently, he put a finger on some of my scars and traced them, his finger just flittering over my skin. I bit down on my lower lip as he drew back, nodding in satisfaction. I taped my gauze back down and pulled down my sleeve. But Frank was still left staring at my arm in utter fascination.

“Why’d you do it?”

I looked at him and didn’t say a word. Time passed slowly, the minutes dragging across me, leaving their nail mark all over. After a few minutes, I had finished my rice and vegetables and ran a hand through my long, brown hair.

“Why are you here?”

Frank laughed and tapped his lip ring for a moment, looking at me slyly. He pulled back one of his own sleeves, all the way up to his bicep. He straightened it out and pointed out the veins in the crook of his elbow.

“Heroin?” I asked in incredulously, not believing it. “That’s hard sh_t to come off of.” I said in disbelief. I had known one or two people who had died from overdoses and coming off of the drug.

But Frank just nodded at me. “And alcohol. I’ve been here for a long time. Relapses.” He added with a snort. I didn’t doubt he had. I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms casually.

“Why’d you do it?”

Frank smirked at me. “Look at Kaity, the little mimic.”
I smirked right back.
Frank put his elbows on the table, leaning forward with a quizzical look on his face. He studied my features. All of a sudden my cheeks felt too big and my hair too frizzy. Frank asked me, "Why does someone like you cut? Why do you need it?" His tone was almost fascinated. I blinked slowly, not sure whether or not I should answer. His eyes never left my face.

The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of lunch. Almost coming out of thin air, the Lowood workers buzzed around us, grabbing schedules and checking to see where we were heading. Pointing us in this direction, that direction. I pushed my chair in, so used to the scraping sound by now, and began to file with the rest of the people. I tossed away my tray as I passed one of the large garbage barrels.

“Kaity!” Frank called, grabbing my shoulder gently. I turned to look at him. “Where are you headed now?”

“I'm sorry, I have a group meeting. 207.”

“Really? Me too.” Frank beamed. So we began to walk down the hallways together, staff members every five feet or so, helping out the ones who looked a little lost. I followed Frank.

“Frank ... why do you want me to be your friend?” I asked him, frowning slightly.

“I don’t have any here. There was this kid ... Mikey ... he was in 217. He was my best friend. Anyway, I’m still here. He was the only friend I had. Maybe 217 will bring me another best buddy.” He told me with a slight smile, stopping quickly to open the door to the room before we walked past.

We walked into the drab, white washed room. The only thing in it were about 10 metal chairs, arranged in a circle at the center. Right at the head of them was a larger, more comfortable one, where the group leader was seated. Our footsteps echoed loudly. I felt like I shouldn't breathe.

It reminded me as if someone had died.
Maybe they had.
Maybe we all had.

The only person in there aside from the leader was a young kid. He didn't look older than 15 to me. He had jet black hair and stunning green eyes. I bit my lip and stared at him as Frank and I made our way towards the circle. When we sat down, Frank sat next to him and patted his shoulder. But the boy never looked up from the white tiling.

"What's his name?" I whispered to Frank.

"Harry."

I glanced at Harry. For a moment, his eyes met mine. I smiled.
Harry tugged at his shirt and looked down at the ground again.

I think I liked Harry.

"Why's he here?" I asked Frank, still looking at him.
"Same reason as you," Frank whispered from the corner of his mouth.

Now I knew I liked Harry.

[disaster notes.]

Mmmmmhmmm. I actually have a good portion of this story written already.

Chapter 2

The lunch period always made me feel ... awkward. I hated staring at all of the people with real mental illnesses. Some would rock back and forth in their seats, others would mumble, and some just sat there, mouth open and drooling.

They all made my skin crawl.

I jumped slightly as a gray-blue tray was slammed down in front of me, the hands holding them tattooed with the word "Halloween". Only one person could have a tattoo like that.

Frank.

I slowly looked up at him, my face nearly blank. Frank smiled down at me, before swinging his legs onto the bench and plopping down across from me. He was still smiling. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what he was doing. Was he going to talk to me? Or was he going to throw that plate of rice down my shirt?

"Hey." Frank said with a nod, taking a spoonful of rice and putting it into his mouth, never taking his eyes off of my face. I blinked a few times.

"Hi." I whispered before looking down at my plate, arranging my own rice so that it resembled a face. Now it kind of reminded me of my Aunt Ernest. Shivering from the horrid memories, I flattened out the rice mountain.
"So ... what's up?" Frank asked me. I didn't say anything.

"Well ... since we're neighbors now ... maybe we should get to know each other." Frank suggested, opening up his milk carton and taking a sip. I simply stared at him, biting down on my lower lip.

"Seriously?" I asked him, feeling my throat hurt. I hadn't said a word since I got here.

"Yeah," Frank said with a sincere smile, "So ... what landed you in this dump?" He asked with a snort. Oh, he thought he was funny. How cute. How darling. I pushed around my rice for a minute. I could feel the air around us becoming impatient. Finally, I threw down my spoon and yanked back my left sleeve, ripping the gauze off of my forearm. From my wrist to my elbow were cuts and scars, littering my skin.

"Woah. All those?" Frank asked me softly as he pointed out all of the fresh ones. There were quite a few. Gently, he put a finger on some of my scars and traced them, his finger just flittering over my skin. I bit down on my lower lip as he drew back, nodding in satisfaction. I taped my gauze back down and pulled down my sleeve. But Frank was still left staring at my arm in utter fascination.

“Why’d you do it?”

I looked at him and didn’t say a word. Time passed slowly, the minutes dragging across me, leaving their nail mark all over. After a few minutes, I had finished my rice and vegetables and ran a hand through my long, brown hair.

“Why are you here?”

Frank laughed and tapped his lip ring for a moment, looking at me slyly. He pulled back one of his own sleeves, all the way up to his bicep. He straightened it out and pointed out the veins in the crook of his elbow.

“Heroin?” I asked in incredulously, not believing it. “That’s hard sh_t to come off of.” I said in disbelief. I had known one or two people who had died from overdoses and coming off of the drug.

But Frank just nodded at me. “And alcohol. I’ve been here for a long time. Relapses.” He added with a snort. I didn’t doubt he had. I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms casually.

“Why’d you do it?”

Frank smirked at me. “Look at Kaity, the little mimic.”
I smirked right back.
Frank put his elbows on the table, leaning forward with a quizzical look on his face. He studied my features. All of a sudden my cheeks felt too big and my hair too frizzy. Frank asked me, "Why does someone like you cut? Why do you need it?" His tone was almost fascinated. I blinked slowly, not sure whether or not I should answer. His eyes never left my face.

The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of lunch. Almost coming out of thin air, the Lowood workers buzzed around us, grabbing schedules and checking to see where we were heading. Pointing us in this direction, that direction. I pushed my chair in, so used to the scraping sound by now, and began to file with the rest of the people. I tossed away my tray as I passed one of the large garbage barrels.

“Kaity!” Frank called, grabbing my shoulder gently. I turned to look at him. “Where are you headed now?”

“I'm sorry, I have a group meeting. 207.”

“Really? Me too.” Frank beamed. So we began to walk down the hallways together, staff members every five feet or so, helping out the ones who looked a little lost. I followed Frank.

“Frank ... why do you want me to be your friend?” I asked him, frowning slightly.

“I don’t have any here. There was this kid ... Mikey ... he was in 217. He was my best friend. Anyway, I’m still here. He was the only friend I had. Maybe 217 will bring me another best buddy.” He told me with a slight smile, stopping quickly to open the door to the room before we walked past.

We walked into the drab, white washed room. The only thing in it were about 10 metal chairs, arranged in a circle at the center. Right at the head of them was a larger, more comfortable one, where the group leader was seated. Our footsteps echoed loudly. I felt like I shouldn't breathe.

It reminded me as if someone had died.
Maybe they had.
Maybe we all had.

The only person in there aside from the leader was a young kid. He didn't look older than 15 to me. He had jet black hair and stunning green eyes. I bit my lip and stared at him as Frank and I made our way towards the circle. When we sat down, Frank sat next to him and patted his shoulder. But the boy never looked up from the white tiling.

"What's his name?" I whispered to Frank.

"Harry."

I glanced at Harry. For a moment, his eyes met mine. I smiled.
Harry tugged at his shirt and looked down at the ground again.

I think I liked Harry.

"Why's he here?" I asked Frank, still looking at him.
"Same reason as you," Frank whispered from the corner of his mouth.

Now I knew I liked Harry.

[disaster notes.]

Mmmmmhmmm. I actually have a good portion of this story written already.

Chapter 2

The lunch period always made me feel ... awkward. I hated staring at all of the people with real mental illnesses. Some would rock back and forth in their seats, others would mumble, and some just sat there, mouth open and drooling.

They all made my skin crawl.

I jumped slightly as a gray-blue tray was slammed down in front of me, the hands holding them tattooed with the word "Halloween". Only one person could have a tattoo like that.

Frank.

I slowly looked up at him, my face nearly blank. Frank smiled down at me, before swinging his legs onto the bench and plopping down across from me. He was still smiling. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what he was doing. Was he going to talk to me? Or was he going to throw that plate of rice down my shirt?

"Hey." Frank said with a nod, taking a spoonful of rice and putting it into his mouth, never taking his eyes off of my face. I blinked a few times.

"Hi." I whispered before looking down at my plate, arranging my own rice so that it resembled a face. Now it kind of reminded me of my Aunt Ernest. Shivering from the horrid memories, I flattened out the rice mountain.
"So ... what's up?" Frank asked me. I didn't say anything.

"Well ... since we're neighbors now ... maybe we should get to know each other." Frank suggested, opening up his milk carton and taking a sip. I simply stared at him, biting down on my lower lip.

"Seriously?" I asked him, feeling my throat hurt. I hadn't said a word since I got here.

"Yeah," Frank said with a sincere smile, "So ... what landed you in this dump?" He asked with a snort. Oh, he thought he was funny. How cute. How darling. I pushed around my rice for a minute. I could feel the air around us becoming impatient. Finally, I threw down my spoon and yanked back my left sleeve, ripping the gauze off of my forearm. From my wrist to my elbow were cuts and scars, littering my skin.

"Woah. All those?" Frank asked me softly as he pointed out all of the fresh ones. There were quite a few. Gently, he put a finger on some of my scars and traced them, his finger just flittering over my skin. I bit down on my lower lip as he drew back, nodding in satisfaction. I taped my gauze back down and pulled down my sleeve. But Frank was still left staring at my arm in utter fascination.

“Why’d you do it?”

I looked at him and didn’t say a word. Time passed slowly, the minutes dragging across me, leaving their nail mark all over. After a few minutes, I had finished my rice and vegetables and ran a hand through my long, brown hair.

“Why are you here?”

Frank laughed and tapped his lip ring for a moment, looking at me slyly. He pulled back one of his own sleeves, all the way up to his bicep. He straightened it out and pointed out the veins in the crook of his elbow.

“Heroin?” I asked in incredulously, not believing it. “That’s hard sh_t to come off of.” I said in disbelief. I had known one or two people who had died from overdoses and coming off of the drug.

But Frank just nodded at me. “And alcohol. I’ve been here for a long time. Relapses.” He added with a snort. I didn’t doubt he had. I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms casually.

“Why’d you do it?”

Frank smirked at me. “Look at Kaity, the little mimic.”
I smirked right back.
Frank put his elbows on the table, leaning forward with a quizzical look on his face. He studied my features. All of a sudden my cheeks felt too big and my hair too frizzy. Frank asked me, "Why does someone like you cut? Why do you need it?" His tone was almost fascinated. I blinked slowly, not sure whether or not I should answer. His eyes never left my face.

The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of lunch. Almost coming out of thin air, the Lowood workers buzzed around us, grabbing schedules and checking to see where we were heading. Pointing us in this direction, that direction. I pushed my chair in, so used to the scraping sound by now, and began to file with the rest of the people. I tossed away my tray as I passed one of the large garbage barrels.

“Kaity!” Frank called, grabbing my shoulder gently. I turned to look at him. “Where are you headed now?”

“I'm sorry, I have a group meeting. 207.”

“Really? Me too.” Frank beamed. So we began to walk down the hallways together, staff members every five feet or so, helping out the ones who looked a little lost. I followed Frank.

“Frank ... why do you want me to be your friend?” I asked him, frowning slightly.

“I don’t have any here. There was this kid ... Mikey ... he was in 217. He was my best friend. Anyway, I’m still here. He was the only friend I had. Maybe 217 will bring me another best buddy.” He told me with a slight smile, stopping quickly to open the door to the room before we walked past.

We walked into the drab, white washed room. The only thing in it were about 10 metal chairs, arranged in a circle at the center. Right at the head of them was a larger, more comfortable one, where the group leader was seated. Our footsteps echoed loudly. I felt like I shouldn't breathe.

It reminded me as if someone had died.
Maybe they had.
Maybe we all had.

The only person in there aside from the leader was a young kid. He didn't look older than 15 to me. He had jet black hair and stunning green eyes. I bit my lip and stared at him as Frank and I made our way towards the circle. When we sat down, Frank sat next to him and patted his shoulder. But the boy never looked up from the white tiling.

"What's his name?" I whispered to Frank.

"Harry."

I glanced at Harry. For a moment, his eyes met mine. I smiled.
Harry tugged at his shirt and looked down at the ground again.

I think I liked Harry.

"Why's he here?" I asked Frank, still looking at him.
"Same reason as you," Frank whispered from the corner of his mouth.

Now I knew I liked Harry.

[façade]

cutee. you make all the guys sound so hot. X]

yuck, rice and vegetables all day long? doesn't sound too appetizing.


now that you're done with this, go back to have fun! it's so emptyyy.

[façade]

cutee. you make all the guys sound so hot. X]

yuck, rice and vegetables all day long? doesn't sound too appetizing.


now that you're done with this, go back to have fun! it's so emptyyy.

[façade]

cutee. you make all the guys sound so hot. X]

yuck, rice and vegetables all day long? doesn't sound too appetizing.


now that you're done with this, go back to have fun! it's so emptyyy.

[disaster notes.]

Dood, Janet, you're my only reader. :[

Chapter Three

The group leader beamed at me. Unlike most of the workers here, her teeth were yellowed and crooked. She looked human. Normal. She looked like some of the people that were in here. In this loony bin. I loved it.

"I'm Meredith," she introduced herself, shaking my limp and unresponsive hand. She knew who I was, so there was no reason for me to introduce myself. I toom my seat in the circle. We had a fairly small group. Most of the people here looked fairly regular, fairly normal. I couldn't point out one troubled looking face in the group. Except for Harry, who hadn't looked up since our eyes had met.

"Group, we have a new member. Kaity. Everyone, we'll go in a circle and introduce ourselves, okay?" She smiled at everyone. An old man raised his hand at the very end of the row.

"Yes, go ahead."

"Charles. Alcoholic." He smiled at me, inclining his head so that his jowls shook. He reminded me of my grandfather.

I hated my grandfather.

The woman next to him smiled at me too. "Denise. Anorexic. It's nice to meet you, Kaity." Her hair was dry and brittle. Bones stuck everywhere. I couldn't tell if her skin was white, gray, or yellow. It seemed to be a mix of all three.

"Howie." The man to the right of her said, leaning* back in his chair and giving me a strange, almost ugly look. "I'm schizo." The chair next to him was empty.

I understood why.

“Kaity,” I whispered as I looked around at them all, “Cuter.” Denise gasped slightly and shook her head sadly, placing a bony and frail hand against her dry lips.

“Frankie. Alcoholic and heroin addict. Represent?” He tried to joke with us, giving a cheesy grin and a peace sign. Meredith chuckled at him, shaking her head with what I thought was pride. I assumed Frankie was the jokester of the group.
All of us turned to look at Harry. He dragged his eyes from the floor and met all of ours, one by one. It was almost painful, how he looked at all of us.

“Harrison,” He said softly. His voice was deeper than I had expected. He shook his black hair from his eyes. “Me and Kaity must be soul-mates. I’m a cutter too.”

With that, his gaze returned to the floor. Everyone looked at each other, almost surprised. Denise looked fit to burst with happiness.

“Most he’s ever said,” Frank whispered to me from the corner of his mouth. I looked over at Harry with a soft smile on my face. It’s not as if he even looked up, but I kept smiling. I thought maybe it would make him feel better if he chose to notice it.

“Now that we’re all familiar with ourselves and each other, we’re going to talk about our problems...”

____________________&&

“So ... how’d you like your first group therapy?” Frank asked me as we walked back to our rooms. We only had 20 minutes before we had to go to Arts & Crafts. Until then, we were supposed to stay in our rooms. I shrugged my shoulders as an answer and Frank nodded, putting his hands into his pockets. A comfortable silence was settled between us.

“I for one say you stay in my room instead,” Frank suggested, flashing me a smirk.

“Won’t we get in trouble?”

“Nah. They only check on the ‘troubled’ souls. Like Howie.” Frankie smirked, referring to the man back in our group. He was troubled. He scared me. Frankie nodded at my face.

“C’mon, Kaity, Please?” He begged me, pouting slightly.

“Okay ...” I gave in after a moment, shrugging my shoulders in defeat. It wasn’t like I minded at all. Frank laughed and pumped his arm, grabbing my hand to drag my down the remainder of the hallway, yanking us in his room, and slamming the door behind him. Slamming doors was against the rules. But so was me being in here. Especially because he was a member of the opposite sex.

“My humble abode.” Frank introduced me, stretching his arms out wide. The walls were covered in clip-outs from rock magazines. Pictures of amazing bands like Black Flag, Led Zeppelin, Motorhead, and Metallica. I had been able to tell he was into rock my his tattoos and piercing. He had clothes strewn about the floor, covered with sketches and papers. I picked up one of them, which looked like it had been torn from a notebook. It looked like guitar tabs.

“For my band ... when I get out.” Frank explained, looking at the paper over my shoulder. I nodded.

“I can’t read it,” I laughed. It looked very complicated. ‘But it looks amazing.” I giggled, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

“I can’t wait to get out of his place.” Frank sighed, running a hand over his face, as he sat down on an overturned garbage can that he had in his room.

“When do you get out?”

“July 27.” Frank said proudly.

“Only two more months.” I smirked at him. That meant two months of hell.

“How long was your projected stay?” Frank asked me, taking off his black on black converse.

“Two months.”

“Sweet.”

I nodded. Some more silence settled on us. I looked at where he was seated. How bad was that hurting his crotch?

"Do you want to come sit on the bed?" I offered, moving over some and gesturing to the empty patch next to me.

"Yeah, that was kind of hurting my balls." Frank laughed, standing up and straightening himself out, wincing slightly as he shook out his legs. I smiled at him as he sat next to me.

"How old are you, anyway?" Frank asked me, looking at my face for traces of age. Too bad for him. I had a baby face.

"Twenty-one." I answered, shooting him a small smirk as I bit at my thumb nail. "You?"

"Twenty-three." Frank smirked right back, turning away from me and looking at his wall, his arms draped across his folded knees. I guess we had more in common than I had imagines.

"Music?" Frank asked me, looking at some of his clip outs.

"Emo and indie."

"Punk and metal." Frank replied, scratching the back of his neck. I leaned back against the wall, folding my legs underneath me. I ran a hand through my short brown hair. It needed to be washed. I wondered if we could during the shower periods.

“What are you going to do when you get out?” I asked Frank softly, picking at the black nail polish on my nails.

“Take a long, hot shower. Hours. Eat a huge, full meal. And talk a walk. A long, peaceful walk.” I nodded. His answer appealed to me. Showers in this place were supposed to be kept to 10 minutes. Meals were slop fit for dogs.

“I’m going to throw every razor in my house out of the window.” I whispered, just a bit sadly.

At least that’s what I hoped that was what I would do.

“You won’t relapse?”

“... I doubt it.” I said softly, not fully believing it myself.

[disaster notes.]

Dood, Janet, you're my only reader. :[

Chapter Three

The group leader beamed at me. Unlike most of the workers here, her teeth were yellowed and crooked. She looked human. Normal. She looked like some of the people that were in here. In this loony bin. I loved it.

"I'm Meredith," she introduced herself, shaking my limp and unresponsive hand. She knew who I was, so there was no reason for me to introduce myself. I toom my seat in the circle. We had a fairly small group. Most of the people here looked fairly regular, fairly normal. I couldn't point out one troubled looking face in the group. Except for Harry, who hadn't looked up since our eyes had met.

"Group, we have a new member. Kaity. Everyone, we'll go in a circle and introduce ourselves, okay?" She smiled at everyone. An old man raised his hand at the very end of the row.

"Yes, go ahead."

"Charles. Alcoholic." He smiled at me, inclining his head so that his jowls shook. He reminded me of my grandfather.

I hated my grandfather.

The woman next to him smiled at me too. "Denise. Anorexic. It's nice to meet you, Kaity." Her hair was dry and brittle. Bones stuck everywhere. I couldn't tell if her skin was white, gray, or yellow. It seemed to be a mix of all three.

"Howie." The man to the right of her said, leaning* back in his chair and giving me a strange, almost ugly look. "I'm schizo." The chair next to him was empty.

I understood why.

“Kaity,” I whispered as I looked around at them all, “Cuter.” Denise gasped slightly and shook her head sadly, placing a bony and frail hand against her dry lips.

“Frankie. Alcoholic and heroin addict. Represent?” He tried to joke with us, giving a cheesy grin and a peace sign. Meredith chuckled at him, shaking her head with what I thought was pride. I assumed Frankie was the jokester of the group.
All of us turned to look at Harry. He dragged his eyes from the floor and met all of ours, one by one. It was almost painful, how he looked at all of us.

“Harrison,” He said softly. His voice was deeper than I had expected. He shook his black hair from his eyes. “Me and Kaity must be soul-mates. I’m a cutter too.”

With that, his gaze returned to the floor. Everyone looked at each other, almost surprised. Denise looked fit to burst with happiness.

“Most he’s ever said,” Frank whispered to me from the corner of his mouth. I looked over at Harry with a soft smile on my face. It’s not as if he even looked up, but I kept smiling. I thought maybe it would make him feel better if he chose to notice it.

“Now that we’re all familiar with ourselves and each other, we’re going to talk about our problems...”

____________________&&

“So ... how’d you like your first group therapy?” Frank asked me as we walked back to our rooms. We only had 20 minutes before we had to go to Arts & Crafts. Until then, we were supposed to stay in our rooms. I shrugged my shoulders as an answer and Frank nodded, putting his hands into his pockets. A comfortable silence was settled between us.

“I for one say you stay in my room instead,” Frank suggested, flashing me a smirk.

“Won’t we get in trouble?”

“Nah. They only check on the ‘troubled’ souls. Like Howie.” Frankie smirked, referring to the man back in our group. He was troubled. He scared me. Frankie nodded at my face.

“C’mon, Kaity, Please?” He begged me, pouting slightly.

“Okay ...” I gave in after a moment, shrugging my shoulders in defeat. It wasn’t like I minded at all. Frank laughed and pumped his arm, grabbing my hand to drag my down the remainder of the hallway, yanking us in his room, and slamming the door behind him. Slamming doors was against the rules. But so was me being in here. Especially because he was a member of the opposite sex.

“My humble abode.” Frank introduced me, stretching his arms out wide. The walls were covered in clip-outs from rock magazines. Pictures of amazing bands like Black Flag, Led Zeppelin, Motorhead, and Metallica. I had been able to tell he was into rock my his tattoos and piercing. He had clothes strewn about the floor, covered with sketches and papers. I picked up one of them, which looked like it had been torn from a notebook. It looked like guitar tabs.

“For my band ... when I get out.” Frank explained, looking at the paper over my shoulder. I nodded.

“I can’t read it,” I laughed. It looked very complicated. ‘But it looks amazing.” I giggled, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

“I can’t wait to get out of his place.” Frank sighed, running a hand over his face, as he sat down on an overturned garbage can that he had in his room.

“When do you get out?”

“July 27.” Frank said proudly.

“Only two more months.” I smirked at him. That meant two months of hell.

“How long was your projected stay?” Frank asked me, taking off his black on black converse.

“Two months.”

“Sweet.”

I nodded. Some more silence settled on us. I looked at where he was seated. How bad was that hurting his crotch?

"Do you want to come sit on the bed?" I offered, moving over some and gesturing to the empty patch next to me.

"Yeah, that was kind of hurting my balls." Frank laughed, standing up and straightening himself out, wincing slightly as he shook out his legs. I smiled at him as he sat next to me.

"How old are you, anyway?" Frank asked me, looking at my face for traces of age. Too bad for him. I had a baby face.

"Twenty-one." I answered, shooting him a small smirk as I bit at my thumb nail. "You?"

"Twenty-three." Frank smirked right back, turning away from me and looking at his wall, his arms draped across his folded knees. I guess we had more in common than I had imagines.

"Music?" Frank asked me, looking at some of his clip outs.

"Emo and indie."

"Punk and metal." Frank replied, scratching the back of his neck. I leaned back against the wall, folding my legs underneath me. I ran a hand through my short brown hair. It needed to be washed. I wondered if we could during the shower periods.

“What are you going to do when you get out?” I asked Frank softly, picking at the black nail polish on my nails.

“Take a long, hot shower. Hours. Eat a huge, full meal. And talk a walk. A long, peaceful walk.” I nodded. His answer appealed to me. Showers in this place were supposed to be kept to 10 minutes. Meals were slop fit for dogs.

“I’m going to throw every razor in my house out of the window.” I whispered, just a bit sadly.

At least that’s what I hoped that was what I would do.

“You won’t relapse?”

“... I doubt it.” I said softly, not fully believing it myself.