My neck furiously jerked faster than two horny rabbits as I stood nervously outside the entrance of the bleak school building.

Swarms of students passed me without a care, rushing to get to their lesson before the bell rang signalling their imminent doom. It had been a week since my attempt, my mother had let me have a week off school due to my insistent begging but had demanded I went back before I "fully became a hermit" and believe me I was willing to go full hermit if it meant I didn't have to return to hell but much to my dismay she insisted.

I yelled multiple slurs at multiple people and shrink further into my oversized sweater, the very same sweater my endearingly small friend had gifted me for Christmas. I fiddled with the hem as I finally pushed through the large doors into the entrance hall.

I faintly heard the word "spastic" along with "faggot" come from somewhere in the room, I scrunched up my face repeatedly as I glanced over to the corner where a group of girls stood staring at me in a very inconspicuous manner, they stopped however when I turned to face them. Their seemingly identical appearances made it hard to tell them apart but I made a mental note to try and avoid them.

I approached the staircase when my view was blocked by two bricks. Sorry not bricks, Andy and Brendon but there's hardly any difference.

"Oh look it's the faggot." Sneered the taller of the two.

"Heard he tried to kill himself the other day."

My heart all but stopped at those words, my brain frozen trying to figure out how they could possibly know about that. My palms grew sweaty and my neck felt like it was going to snap off with the ferocity of which it was ticcing.

I was pulled out of my daze when the shrill sound of the late bell echoed around the now deserted corridor.

"Guess there's no one to hear you now." Brendon spat at me.

I tried to run but was immediately pulled back by one of the two grabbing onto the back of my backpack which was soon discarded as I was thrown into some random persons locker.

I slumped to the floor, thoroughly winded.

The first of many blows was landed to my stomach by none other than Brendon Urie's foot, the force of the blow made me want to throw up and caused my eyes to water.

I knew trying to fight back would result in nothing more than a severe beating, that and there was no way someone such as myself could effectively overpower two experienced assholes.

The next kick was aimed at my face, landing square at my nose. The pain immediately blossomed over my face making me wonder if my nose had broken, the warm blood gushed over my open mouth making me choke. I covered my already battered face with my arms and curled up in a ball, the brunt of the abuse now being aimed at my back and sides.

For a solid ten minutes I felt nothing but pain as I tried to zone out. My torso ached with the constant abuse as I tried desperately to keep my fave covered, blood still pouring profusely out of my nose and onto both myself and the already dirty floor.

Eventually Andy and Brendon got bored with my their torture and the kicking ceased.

At some point in the whole ordeal the sleeves on my sweater had rolled up slightly, "oh look, the fag does cut himself. Do it deeper next time." Taunted Andy as he and Brendon slinked off somewhere.

I lay on the floor for a good five minutes further as I tried to regain a steady breathing pattern and for the pain left from my beating to calm for just a moment.

I eventually pulled myself into a sitting position, realising my nose had now fortunately stopped bleeding, I tried to concentrate my blurry vision. I looked down at myself wondering how I would get the blood and dirt stains out of my sweater.

I hauled myself to my feet and trudged the five feet to retrieve my bag. Coincidentally there was a bathroom right next to where the assholes had decided to kick the shit out of me.

I trudged inside to asses my appearance. I eyed my reflection in the cracked mirror, my nose was bruised but didn't look broken and my fave was covered in enough blood to make a vampire go crazy but aside from that my face was fine.

"I'm gonna fuck your mom, watch out." I ticced, the noise echoing off the walls.

I gingerly lifted up my shirt, my skin alight with fiery pain. My back and sides were littered with a multitude of colourful bruises, looking almost like an abandoned water colour painting. A long graze streaked up my side as well as many other smaller ones that were dotted over my back. I sighed in annoyance and discomfort as I lowered my sweater back down, the sweater in question was covered in mud and dirt front to back and I let out an exasperated sigh at the sight of it.

I trudged out to the back of the building and sat down on the floor, I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I considered calling Mikey but I didn't want to worry him more than he already was.

Thirty minutes of ticcing and crying on the ground later I heard the sound of footsteps nearing the wall I was sat by, I hastily wiped my tears away and tried to make myself look like I wasn't having a mental breakdown.

"Gee?" I heard a familiar voice call to me, I looked up to see my disheveled punk peering down at me, I will admit it made a nice change.

"Bitch tits."

"Nice to see you too." He responded jokingly, it made me giggle slightly. "What're you doing out here?" He questioned, a worried tone lacing his voice.

"I could, fuck, I could fuck you, fuck, say the same to you." I said, interrupting myself multiple times.

"Having a fag."

"You're always having a fag, faggot." My face blushed red and I buried my hands back in my hands.

He laughed in response and came to sit down at me, his beat up red sneakers crossing into my line of view slightly.

"What happened to your face?" He spoke out the side of his mouth, an unlight cigarette dangling from the other side.

"My parents are cousins." I ticced.

"No they're not, what happened?" I heard the click of a lighter followed by the sound of Frank taking a drag of the death stick.

I looked up and snatched the cigarette out of his mouth and brought it to my own, taking a long drag and breathing out slowly. I felt my shoulders relax and my long cravings satiated slightly.

"Didn't know you smoked."

I held the cigarette up to his mouth, allowing him to take a drag, it was his after all.

"Used to," I took another drag, "mom found my cigarettes and snatched em off me, now she practically sniffs me every time I walk through the door."

My friend snorted at that slightly "Now face, what happened?" The punk asked, insistent for an answer.

"Andy and Brendon beat the shit outta me." I said, lifting the side of my shirt up to reveal the mass of bruises and grazes.

"Gee what the fuck?! Holy shit that's not okay."

"It's not the first time." I shrugged, taking another drag casually.

"I don't care a fuck." He stood up and held his hand out to me, I grabbed his hand and he hauled me to my feet.

"Come on, I'm taking you home."

I stomped out the fag and traipsed after my friend to the school entrance.

When we reached the first of two main roads Frank not so inconspicuously grabbed my hand, I turned and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I don't want your tics chucking you in the road." He mumbled awkwardly, a dark blush flooding his face.

"Sure thing, Frankie." I said, putting extra emphasis on his name. "Do you want a cock?"

"I mean last time I checked I had one."

We reached my house without any mishaps, "I've got a bomb." I ticced as I pulled my keys out of my bag and unlocked the door.

"D'you want a drink- a bottle of piss?" I asked, my cursed voice bouncing around the kitchen.

"No but I do have to sort you out or those grazes will get infected as fuck."

"You don't, it's fine Frankie I promise." I tried to reassure him despite the slowly growing pain on my sides and stomach.

"Where's your medical kit?" He asked as he rifled through the cabinets.

"Bathroom." I mumbled as I stood sulking against the wall.

He ran off upstairs presumably in search for the medical kit in question, I took the time to reassess my recent wounds, lifting my shirt only to find the once fresh bruises lightly yellowed, and the harsh grazes stung even stronger.

Frank reappeared a minute or two later clutching the medical kit he had been searching for, he flung it ok one of the counters and undid it hastily.

He beckoned me over to where he stood, I scuffed my way over mumbling something about how unnecessary it all way.

"Well maybe so but I don't want you back in hospital so sit down and shut up." That did it's job of shutting me up and I slid on to the countertop and glared at Frank angrily.

"Can you lift your shirt up?" He asked, slightly calmer than he was thirty seconds before.

I begrudgingly lifted up the hem of my shirt to reveal the colourful display painted across my torso, "jesus Christ, Gee, how many times has this happened?"

"I dunno, alot?" I shrugged.

I heard him sigh angrily as he wet some gauze under the tap, he stormed back over to me and start gentling cleaning the main scrape up the side of my ribs. I hissed slightly at the unexpected pain in turn making the punk immediately apologise.

I leaned back against the wall as his soft jand

"I'm not going back to jail!" I ticced and immediately after slapped Frank in the face, "feel my wrath bitch."

"Well that was a rollercoaster." The boy said as he gently applied Neosprin to the wound.

Frank applied a gauze patch to the graze before returning to the sink, "there, good as new."

"You should be a doctor, Doctor fucking Who bitch." I said, chucking slightly

"Nah, not really my thing, I'm not good with people."

"You're good with me." I countered.

"Yeah but I actually like you."

I slumped on the sofa with Frank after we had inhaled some coffee, he had wrapped his arm around me and was fiddling with the ends of my hair. We had been scrolling through Netflix and decided on watching Sherlock.

My eyes felt heavy and everything seemed a little fuzzier, the soothing motions of Frank's hand in my hair slowly lulled me off to sleep.

A/N: another update, woop woop, ehh idk I'm really tired and I think I'm dying.

I got prescribed some meds recently because I have really fucking horrific migraines and I had one this evening so my mother was like "yo take the drugs" and I'm really adversed to taking medication in the first place so I didn't really want to but she made me, I don't know what it is, like Zolmitriptan or some shit.

So I was just sat there reading through the side affects and that and then I notice that you probably shouldn't fucking take em if your under eighteen, k my neurologist prescribed me these so like fuck you I guess, I'm like thirteen and I'm vv small so I can't really take alot of anything unless it's dick or punches, anygay, my mother made me take it anyway and holy shit I do not feel healthy, about twenty minutes after I took it my throat started to literally close up, luckily that didn't become too bad and I think it's sorted itself out now but holy shit do I feel weird, my head feels like fucking shit and I keep getting random pains in my chest and I'm so fucking sweaty but I keep getting chills, not to mention I'm really fucking dizzy and my eyesight keeps going fucking crazy... Ngl it feels really similar to when I overdosed except not as bad.

Anywhore if I'm dead tomorrow please sue the NHS, or at least the dude that prescribed me this shit. Oh and great now my chest feels all heavy and shit and that fucking hurts.

Not me ranting on my own fanfic.

How are y'all doing??

*Boop*

Bai Bai duckiez