Work Text:
Frank couldn't stop. He was stuck in the bathroom, pacing back and forth, His mind was still on repeat, looping over the many interactions he had. After he was caught by none other than Robby himself. He couldn't look away from his face, the distraught. Anger. He couldn't help it.
He couldn't control it. After relapse, after relapse. After telling himself he'd stop. After explaining- begging his wife he'd stop. That he'd stop abusing benzos.
Stop acting like how he's acting. Begging for some more time. Months and months. He thought it'll work. Maybe a few days or more but the withdrawals started. Scars on his arms, some deeper where he reached the epidermis, the dermis and then the subcutaneous tissue. Horrible coping mechanism after the other.
He wanted to be good- a good father to his kids, a good husband to Abby. A good person in everyone's eyes. But he fucks up, curses himself that he would try to get better but he cant get himself to do anything. He knew it was over. The reoccurring memories of his family.
When his parents had taught him how to ride a bike, all the way through when he taught his own son how to. Birthday parties, school events. School plays. It all comes back to him.
He wondered how his parents would see him. Dead or alive. He wondered if they thought he had became a failure. A drug addicted who cant help himself. He wondered about Louie. He was taking things from him. He wondered if everyone hated him. There was too many things on his mind.
He knew at the end of the day, if his body was found. His body would eventually be bodied in a bag, or a cloth covering his soon to be pale face. Like any other patients who died, if they event tried to save him.
His fingers twitched and ached, his heart felt like it hurt. Well everything had hurt, his back, arms, legs. His legs almost buckled as he clutched onto the sink. He was sorry for everything. For all of people he promised. The lies he had said. Everything.
They were most likely looking for him, maybe not. he doubts it. He unlocks the mirror cabinet that was in front of him. It used to have a Child Lock, that was for him and to stop him from taking drugs. It was Abby's idea.
He rummaged in the cabinet, grabbing any orange bottle he could find, dropping a few in the process. He knew his wife was at work, the kids being in school. He could do it without them catching.
To feel free again. To make everyone feel free again. He won't let people babysit him, to treat him as if he was a bomb waiting to explode. he wanted everyone to forget him.
he didn't know how much pills he took but he took them. Without reading the labels. He was on the floor. Hoping it'll work.
And it did.