"You sick faggot."

     Frank took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he pressed the blade further into his skin. The cool metal edge bit into the pale flesh, producing crimson drops that soon turned into streaks as they snaked around his wrist. He couldn’t get the scene out of his head. His father’s words. 

     “Get out of my house! I never want to see your fucking face again!” Hot spittle hit said face and the boy cursed the day he actually told someone how he felt inside. 

     Frank winced, more from the pain of remembrance than the slice in his arm. He had known his father wouldn’t take his coming out well, but he could have never predicted it going that horribly. Yelling was one thing, but cutting off your son was completely different. Frank wasn’t prepared.

     “But, please, Dad-” Frank began as his dad started to storm off. The words immediately stopped the older man in his tracks. Mr. Iero turned around and grabbed Frank’s arms, squeezing them tightly and shaking him a little. The teenage boy tried, and failed, to keep from trembling. Yes, his father was strong, but this particular shaking had to do with the force of Frank’s heart and soul being torn into shreds. His father… was disgusted by him… 

     He repeated the same slit on the underside of his right arm, more deeply this time. Beads of Frank’s life liquid fell onto the backpack by his feet, which was nestled between his leg and the edge of the park bench he was sitting on. 

     “Don’t you dare call me that,” his father hissed. His eyes - eyes full of pure hatred and disgust - bore into Frankie’s. The terrified boy had no choice but to avert his gaze. After what felt like an eternity, the older man released his grip on him, only to shove him backwards. Frank stumbled and collided with the wall behind him. “You are no son of mine.” His voice was so full of loathing…revulsion. 

     Tears blurred Frank’s vision, and he was starting to feel a little lightheaded. 

     “Now get the fuck out of my sight. Just do the world a favor and disappear. The last thing we need is another perverted bastard like you.” 

     The injured teen took a deep, shaky breath. Even though his father hated him now, Frank knew he was right. The world would be better of without him. He was sick…twisted… He was gay for God’s sake. No, not God’s sake… What would God want with him? It was disgusting. It wasn’t normal and it wasn’t right. But, now, with this blade and his blood, he was making it right. I hope you won’t hate me anymore, Dad, he thought. I’m doing what you wanted. 

     The blade slipped from Frank’s fingers, along with his consciousness. As he tumbled from the bench, everything went dark so quickly that he didn’t even notice the figure who rushed to his side…