Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1530881.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      My_Chemical_Romance
  Relationship:
      Frank_Iero/Gerard_Way
  Character:
      Frank_Iero, Gerard_Way, Mikey_Way
  Additional Tags:
      Priests
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-04-27 Words: 10229
****** Betrayed ******
by mychemicallyromance
Summary
     It was Sunday morning when I walked into the church. I had always
     loved this church. I loved praying to God, and I loved listening to
     the new priest, Father Way. He was friendly and he had always let me
     stay after Mass. We would have long chats sometimes, or we would just
     hang out. He seemed to be my friend as we had so much in common. He
     would listen to my deepest, darkest secrets without judging me. I had
     admitted something to him that I had always hated to admit. I knew it
     was a sin and I hated that.
Notes
     Hey!
     So this was being betaed for the longest time, and I thank Bonnie
     (happilyappled) for it even though she couldn't quite finish it. I
     appreciate what she's done so far, but if there's any mistakes, then
     it's mostly my part--not hers. I hope it's great and I hope you enjoy
     it. I've worked hard on it.
October 3, 1996
It was Sunday morning when I walked into the church. I had always loved this
church. I loved praying to God, and I loved listening to the new priest, Father
Way. He was friendly and he had always let me stay after Mass. We would have
long chats sometimes, or we would just hang out. He seemed to be my friend as
we had so much in common. He would listen to my deepest, darkest secrets
without judging me. I had admitted something to him that I had always hated to
admit. I knew it was a sin and I hated that.
When I admitted to Father Way that I was gay, he didn’t judge and I was
surprised because he was a priest. He didn’t really say anything besides a nod.
I had a friend. I finally had a friend after fifteen years of not having anyone
besides my mom and dad. There was so much that I couldn’t tell them in fear of
them judging me. I couldn’t take judgment if it was from my family. I always
thought that they would throw me out and never let me back in the house.
I hated that Mass had always seemed short. I liked hearing Father Way talk and
read from the Bible. I liked how Father Way would always talk out the side of
his mouth. After every word he spoke, he would look at the crowd. And when Mass
was over, and time to listen to confessions he would talk the same way as he
would read from the Bible, and I would always secretly watch and his facial
features were never disgusted when people told him private information as to
their love life...or not so love life.
He was the nicest person I had ever known.
January 5, 1996
The chill air had bitten my nose as I walked to the church. I loved walking by
myself to the church before the service to help Father Way get ready and set
up. He didn’t mind that I helped him. I walked through the church’s door and I
immediately saw Father Way. I walked up to him.
“You like coming early, don’t you?” Father Way chuckled.
“Yeah. I’m very passionate about this.” I smiled before saying, “I like
helping. It’s not like I have anything better to do, you know? I just…my
parents aren’t awake yet.” He turned around and looked at me.
Father Way and I chatted before Mass started. I sat down on the bench as he
grabbed his Bible and waited for the people to sit down. He greeted them all
and smiled. I realized how small his teeth were, and I thought it was cute. But
once I realized that I had even thought that, I cursed myself. You weren’t
allowed to think those thoughts.
 
When Mass was finished, I asked my parents if I could stay at church. They said
yes. I smiled and I walked to Father Way as he started putting things away.
“Can I help you again, Father?” I asked.
“Shouldn’t you be on your way, Frank?”
I shook my head. “Nah, there isn’t really anything for me to do there besides
watch TV. I don’t really like TV all that much.”
“Yeah, there’s too many commercials on there and that is what makes it boring,
and I don’t leave until three or four,” Father Way had chuckled. “But yeah, you
can help, if you want.”
I smiled and started helping him put everything away. I helped pick up and put
away the Bibles that weren't in the right place. I liked helping Father Way. By
the time we were finished, it was nearing two o'clock. I didn't feel like going
home, but I was hungry. I ignored my hunger because I just wanted to hang out
more with Father Way. I didn't want to leave.
“Frank?” Father way said. “We’re done cleaning, you know.”
I nodded. “I just…I don’t want to go home. I’ll be bored,” I whispered.
“You can stay here until your mom calls like always,” he offered. “I don’t
mind. I like company.”
I smiled and he walked me back to his office. I was behind him and I saw the
swing of his hips and how his outfit just fitperfect on him. Every time I
looked at him, the first word was always pretty. I know I shouldn’t have ever
seen a man like that or even a priest, but I couldn’t help it. It’s the word
that always comes to my mind. When I walked into his office, he sat at his desk
and I sat on the couch nearby. I made myself comfortable just like always. I
lay back and stared at him as he stares back.
“So, how was your weekend, Frank?” Father Way asked.
“It was alright, I guess.” I shrugged. “Same old, same old, you know?”
“How is the bullying? Are they still messing with you?”
“Yeah, but at this point, I’m not caring at all.”
Father Way nodded. “That’s good. Just ignore them and they’ll eventually see
that you don’t care anymore.”
“Were you ever bullied?”
Father Way sighed. “Unfortunately, yes I was and it was because I was fat.”
“Does that mean that I’m fat, Father?” The bullies would always call me fat or
a faggot even though they never really knew my sexual preference.
“No, no,” he said. “You’re not fat. I think you’re the right size.” I nodded
and blushed. “Aw, why are you blushing, Frank?”
“I…no one had ever said I’m the right size or anything.” I sighed and looked
down at my shoes. “Everyone seems to hate me at my school and sometimes, I
don’t think my parents like me all that much either.”
“Aw, that can’t be true.” Father Way sat down near me and placed his hand on
mine.
“It is. Sure, my parents take me to places with them, but they never say I love
you or anything. They don’t hug me or anything. They ignore me.”
Father Way half-smiled and said, “I’m sorry, Frank.”
I shook my head. “It’s okay, I guess.”
“I have a plan,” Father way said.
I looked up at him. “What is your plan, Father?”
“How about you give me your number and we’ll talk. How does that sound?” Father
Way smiled. “We only see each other on Sundays, but now we’ll talk and you
won’t be as lonely.”
I smiled and we exchanged numbers. After that, we kept talking and talking
until my mother called telling me it had been enough time and that I needed to
head home. I waved goodbye to Father Way.
                                        
January 12, 1996
Ever week was the same: I went to church before Mass and stayed for a while
after Mass. I liked that I had a routine, but it had always been somewhat like
that since Father Way started to be the new priest.
Father Way made me feel welcome even more since I first met him. He made me
feel like I could've said anything in the entire world and he wouldn't have
scolded me or judge or yell. He would stay calm. Some days  he would bring
books from home that he suggested I read.
Our friendship was fantastic and it had seemed to be too good to be true, but I
didn’t feel like expressing that thought to Father Way. I felt like just
keeping my mouth shut every time I thought about that. It felt like a dream.
I was lonely.
“Is something wrong, Frank?” Father Way asked.
“Kind of, Father,” I responded with a sigh.
“Do you want to tell me?”
I bit my lip. “I feel like having you as my friend is too good to be true.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’ve never had a friend.”
“Have you ever tried to make one and get yourself out there?”
"Of course I have, but it all backfires. If I make a friend, then they stab me
in the back." I sighed and slumped my shoulders. "I remember in middle school
that I would have a couple...people who would talk to me, you know? And I
thought we were friends for the longest time, but it turned out that we
weren't. At the end of the school year, they ditched me and never talked to me
again. They called me names and used whatever I told them against me...I quit
trying after that, and that's why I'm surprised that we're friends."
“I’m glad that we’re friends, too, Frank.” Father Way smiled.
After what Father Way said, my mother called telling me it was time to come
home for dinner.
“See you later, Father,” I said before leaving.
January 19, 1996
Father Way always texted me at unusual hours...and he told me about his dreams
and I told him mine. Our texts made me forget that we was ten years older than
me, but it's not until I see him that he is older than me and we shouldn't be
friends by society's rules. They frowned upon it, especially considering that
he was a priest. It made no sense.
That morning, as I walked to church at the same time as every day, I noticed
the snow had gotten deeper and it was ankle-deep. I didn’t know if it was
because I was short if it was just that way for everyone else. I was pretty
sure it was because I was short. I sighed and kept walking as I ignored that my
dress pants were going to get wet when the snow melted off of them.
I arrived to the church only minutes later, but didn't see Father Way cleaning
as usual, so I tried looking in his office. The door was opened ajar, so I
knocked and pushed it open a bit more. Father Way was sitting at his desk,
phone to his ear, frowning, so I mouthed an apology and waited until he was
finished. When he was finally off the phone, he put it down on his desk with a
sigh.
I gave him a look and asked, “Everything okay, Father?”
“Yes, Frank, everything is okay.” Father Way smiled. “Just my brother’s
drama—he’s quite a handful, honestly.”
I smiled. “I’m glad everything is okay, but I wouldn’t know what brotherly
drama is. But I do sometimes wish I had a sibling.”
“How is school going? Do you have good grades?”
I shrugged. "They're okay, I guess. I try, but I can't succeed. You've helped
me a lot, though."
“That’s good.”
I nodded. “Everyone thinks mom and dad helped, though.”
“Did you tell them that?”
“No…they just assumed.”
“People assume a lot of things in your life, don’t they?”
I looked down and picked at my slacks. “Yeah. They do.” I had said it with a
sigh and then I felt Father Way’s hand underneath my chin, and he lifted it up.
“What else do they do, Frank?” he whispered.
I bit my lip. “Sometimes, they seem to live my life for me and they can’t let
me choose anything I want to do.” I sighed. “Yeah, they’re my parents and I’m
supposed to do what they tell me, but can’t I at least do what I want within
reason?”
“What do they chose for you?”
"They chose the clothes I wear, the music I can listen to, the TV shows I can
watch, and...basically everything, you know?"
“I know the feeling.”
“How so, Father?”
“My parents used to do the same thing.”
“I’m sorry, Father,” I muttered.
Time had seemed to fly by and it seemed to be time for Mass. I walked out of
Father Way's office and sat down as I waited for my family to walk into the
church. Everyone else walked in at the same time my parents did. Mass began
soon after and I listened to every single word very carefully.
January 26, 1996
It was the same thing every Sunday and I was glad for our routine. I
walked...we talked. Mass began and then when it was finished, we talked before
I would have to come home for lunch. It was the same old thing every Sunday,
but I never got tired. I liked it. I liked that every Sunday we had something
new to talk about and he made me forget that no one really liked me before I
met Father Way. He made me feel special and I knew that I shouldn't have felt
like that considering he is an adult and a priest.
But on that day I couldn't help but get this weird tingly feeling. I felt like
that I might get sick, but I didn't want to leave because it could just be
nonsense. I didn't want to ruin our routine, but father Way must have noticed
as he had quit speaking to me.
"Frank, are you okay?" he asked. There was worry in his voice and I covered my
mouth, but it was too late. I ended up puking in the waste basket near his
desk.
 
It seemed that I had emptied my entire stomach, but thankfully Father Way
always had a jug of water on the end table in between the door and the
bookcase, and he was pouring some into a glass. I took it gladly, wiping my
mouth on my sleeve, and drank it all. When I put the half-empty glass on the
desk, he looked back up at Father Way.
“Father, I’m sorry for puking in your basket,” I apologized.
“It’s alright, Frank.” Father Way patted me on my back. “I’ll be right back.”
Father Way picked up the waste basket and went to go throw away the contents in
it. When he came back, he rubbed my back and sat beside me.
“I bet you want me to go home now, don’t you?” I said.
Father Way looked down. "I think it's best that you should get some rest."
 
I nodded before getting up, but Father Way stood up with me and stopped me from
walking out of his office. "Let me drive you home, okay?"
“I wouldn’t want to—”
“Frank, let me drive you home for your safety, okay?”
I sighed. “Okay.”
Father Way walked with me out to his car. He opened the passenger side door and
then got into his seat. I sat down. I felt awkward being inside others' cars,
but I didn't know why. I felt like they really didn't want me here. Father Way
and I were silent as he drove besides when I told him where I lived, but when
he passed the turn to my house, I turned to look at him.
“Uh, you…passed the turn, Father,” I said.
Father Way didn’t seem so nice when he looked at me. He looked like he had fire
in his eyes as he said, “I know.”
“But…I thought you were taking me home?”
“Silly Frankie,” Father Way chuckled.
Father Way drove and he turned to look at me. I suddenly felt scared and I
started to tremble with the look he was giving me. I bit my lip and I
remembered hearing stories like these and I didn't understand why people would
want to do this. Why would a priest want to do this? Didn't they make a promise
to God and the church?
“Give me your phone, Frank,” Father Way demanded when we finally arrived
outside an abandoned house and neighborhood.
“No.” I was surprised that my voice didn’t waver or crack.
“Give it to me,” he growled. “Or I’ll hurt you.”
“No.”
Father Way opened my door and slammed me outside. He soon got out of the car
before I could get away. He sat on my hips as he said, “I’m only saying it one
more time, Frank, give me your phone.”
“No—” Father Way slapped me and my eyes watered as he searched for my phone. He
found it in my pocket and threw it. My way of communicating my mom or dad was
gone.
Father Way started taking off my pants and despite my fighting of him not to,
he was stronger and got them off of me. He tried to my boxers off but I held on
tight but they ripped off by Father Way’s strong hands. I tried to cover
myself, but my hands were smacked away and I still kept trying.
“I thought you were my friend, Father?” I whispered, trying to hold back tears.
Father Way didn’t answer me. Father Way just undressed himself and stuck his
fingers in my mouth before slicking himself up and prepping me only a little
bit, and the worst came when he removed his fingers. I screamed because I had
never felt this much pain in my entire life. Spasms of pain shot up in my back
and I thought I was being split apart. I felt blood dripping and I did all I
could to ignore Father Way’s moans. I pretended I wasn’t with him. I pretended
that I was at home, but pretending didn’t make the pain go away.
“I bet you wanted me to do this to you, Frank?” Father way said with a tiny
moan. “I bet you jerked off every night, didn’t you?” I shook my head. “I bet
you’re lying.”
“I’m not,” I whimpered. “I’m not.”
“Have you ever been fucked by a man?” I shook my head. “Well, now you have.”
Father Way’s thrusts became fast and faster. I still felt like I was being
split in half, and I could hear my phone ringing, but I could also hear my
sniffling. I was crying so hard because of the pain and the betrayal of Father
Way. It had felt like my heart was shattering every time he thrusts. My heart
was going into shreds and shreds of glass.
I couldn’t take the pain anymore, but Father Way seemed to notice that I was
going to pass out because he spoke. “Don’t pass out, Frank. You’ll regret it
greatly,” he seethed.
I couldn’t keep my eyes open, though and eventually my body refused to listen.
I passed out.
It wasn’t until later that day that I woke up and I wasn’t near that house. I
was in some type of basement, I didn’t really know. I was tied to a bed and
Father Way was sitting in a chair not very far away from the bed. His legs were
crossed and he was just sketching me. Every now and then he would look up at
me, but then he suddenly stopped.
“I think you’re precious when you’re asleep, Frankie,” he whispered. There was
something in his voice that I didn’t like. “You look calm. You make me think
that I can do anything I want, but then again I can.”
“Why are you doing this?” I said. My voice was hoarse. It was a struggle to
talk and I felt tears prickle my eyes. “What did I ever do to you?”
“You obsess about me.”
“I just wanted to be your friend, that’s all.” I looked at my tied arms and
then down at my feet. I was stuck and I couldn’t escape. I wanted to go home
and be beside my mother. All I wanted was my mom and dad. I don’t think I ever
wanted them more than I do now.
“Why would you befriend a priest? Haven’t you heard stories about us?”
“You were nice, Father. I trusted you!” Tears started to fall down my cheeks
and some of them getting into my mouth. My voice kept cracking and I felt like
dying. I didn’t want to live anymore because I knew all of this would be a
scar. I knew I would have to live with this terror for the rest of my life and
I would have nightmare after nightmare.
“Nothing changed, Frank.”
“Why are you doing this, then?”
“I’m doing it because I want to. It’s hard to control my urges when I have a
gay boy by my side twenty-four-seven.”
“Please let me go. I won’t tell.”
“That’s what they all say. They won’t tell. They do tell, Frank.”
“I won’t!”
“Don’t lie to me.” Father Way slapped me and it stung my cheek. It made more
tears fall from my eyes. “No one must lie to me or anger me.”
“What are you going to do to me?” I asked.
“I’m going to do whatever I want to do to you.” Again, there was fire in his
eyes. It looked like he was ready to murder. He wasn’t the priest I knew. It
was a demon. Father Way wasn’t the priest that was my friend.
Betrayal is always that happens to me.
January 29, 1996
Two days and all I’ve felt was my tears and pain of being slapped, pain of
being betrayed and pain from crying so much, and pain in my heart from missing
my parents. I have never thought of death or suicide so much until these past
two days. I thought of ways to make Father Way so angry that he kills me. It
didn’t matter if he killed me painfully and slowly or quickly. I just wanted to
be dead. I didn’t want to be here anymore. I’d rather be six feet under ground
in a black coffin. I also never prayed for death either, but that’s when I gave
up thinking God was real. He never granted my prayer.
I couldn’t sleep anymore because of the nightmares that I now have and I was
afraid of eating because he could’ve drugged it with sleeping pills so he could
whatever he wanted to me. He could beat me senseless or rape me until I was
sore and torn, or molest me and make me feel even dirtier than before. I always
felt bugs crawling on my skin. I felt his hands on me and him between my
thighs. It made me sick, but I couldn’t throw up because I would just heave and
nothing would come up or if something did come up, then it would just be bile.
“Father,” I whimpered. I knew that Father Way could hear me, and I was right
when Father Way walked into the room.
“What?” he said.
“I need to use the bathroom.” I was still tied to the bed and it was very hard
to keep myself from wetting myself.
Father Way nodded and untied me, but he held onto my arm and it was probably to
keep me from escaping. I sighed and I walked into the bathroom. He let go but
only for a little so I can unzip my jeans and pee, and wash my hands when I was
finished. He led me back into the room and handcuffed me this time. The
handcuffs were uncomfortable and they dug into my wrists.
“I think you look very decadent like this,” he whispered. “I should’ve thought
about this the first time. The rope was a major turn-off to me, Frank.” Father
Way got closer and closer until he was inches away from my face. He tried to
press his lips to mine but I turned my face to the side. I knew I shouldn’t
have done that because he grabbed my hair and then kissed me when I was facing
him. He shoved his tongue into my mouth. I tried pulling away, but I couldn’t
because he grabbed my face. I made a discontent noise and I bit his tongue, and
he pulled away.
“Don’t do that!” I snapped.
“You’re mine; I can do whatever I want.” He went back to kissing me despite my
protests. “At least I’m not having you suck my dick, but that does sound
appealing to me.” He smirked. “Get down on your knees, Frankie,” he said as he
unlocked the handcuffs and I stayed still on the bed.
“No.”
Father Way grabbed me and threw me to the floor. I fell and I knew my knees
would be bruised because of the hard flooring. I groaned as Father Way grabbed
my hair and he unzipped his pants. He pulled his dick out of the confines of
his boxers. He gave himself a few strokes before putting the head to my lips. I
turned my head and looked at the wall. He gripped my cheek and turned my head
back and then he said, “Suck. And if you bite it, then you’ll be punished even
more.”
“I’m not doing it!” I yelled. “I don’t even know how.”
Father Way yanked my mouth open and he shoved himself in my mouth and began to
thrust. I gagged and gagged, but he still didn’t stop. He kept going. I felt
the tears threating to fall from my eyes and I wanted to bite down on him but I
was too scared. I didn’t know what he meant by punish, but I could the hint
that it meant rape. I didn’t want to be raped because I was still sore. I
limped.
It felt like forever until he had released himself. He moaned and his hips
stuttered. I felt a salty, gross substance fill my mouth and he pressed my lips
together as he said, “Swallow.” I couldn’t disobey because there was no way for
me to spit it out and I was forced to. I swallowed and Father Way let go of me,
and I coughed and coughed. I felt like I was going to puke because I was
coughing so much.
February 2, 1996
Father Way always made me blow him and he always tried to kiss me. He made me
cry and he would taunt me. He would use my fears against me and he would taunt
me by saying my parents didn’t love me. I knew they didn’t. I knew they
probably weren’t looking for me. I had a feeling that they weren’t going to
either. I could already tell they were doing their normal routine, but I didn’t
want to realize that. I wanted to pretend that I was going to have a savior
soon. I wanted a savior.
I didn’t want to be here.
I wanted to be held by my mom and I didn’t care if she didn’t love me. I had
never wanted my mother that much until then. I wanted my father. I wanted
anyone to just hold me and tell me this was all a nightmare and I want them to
save me. I didn’t want to be haunted by this. But I knew I would be.
I hated Father Way for making me like this. I was terrified and I couldn’t
sleep. I barely ate unless it was forced down my throat and normally I would’ve
puked it up. I didn’t want to sleep in fear of my life. I wanted to fight
because I needed to fight. I didn’t care that Father Way was stronger than me.
I wished I was stronger, though. I wished I wouldn’t have befriended him or
trusted him, but who knew this would’ve happened.
“Frankie,” Father Way had sung as he came closer to me.
I took a deep breath and it seemed my heart stopped because he had a whip when
he entered the room. The whip had thick leather and it looked like it would
bruise or break skin. Father Way swung the whip back and forth as he walked
closer to me. When he finally got closer, he stopped.
“Hello,” he said. “Wanna play a game?”
“No,” I whimpered. My eyes had been wide every time I looked at the whip.
“Well…too bad.” Father Way smirked. Father Way took my cuffs off of me and
yanked me until I had stood up. “Strip down, Frankie.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Fine. I guess I’ll have to do it.” Father Way pushed me until I was on my
back. I tried to roll away but Father Way punched my stomach and stole all the
air out of my lungs. He yanked my pants and boxers off, and then he yanked me
onto my stomach. He grabbed the whip and started to beat me with it.
The whipping felt like it was going to cut through my skin and eventually it
did. I felt liquid on my back and ass. He just kept going and not slowing down.
I kept crying out until he finally stopped. He ran his fingers down my back and
then rolled me on my back again. When I was rolled on my back, it stung the
wounds. He showed me the blood that was on his fingers. He brought his fingers
to his mouth and licked the blood off.
“Mm,” he moaned at the taste. “I wonder what else taste good of you.” His tone
was seductive. I hoped that he wasn’t going to try and fondle me, but of course
he did. He grabbed my penis and started to stroke me until I was fully hard. He
kept stroking me and I couldn’t help but moan and moan. I had wanted him to
stop but the other part of me wanted him to keep going. My breathing was
getting heavier and heavier until I cried out because of my orgasm.
I immediately started to cry because no matter how much I didn’t want it, my
body betrayed me and my thoughts betrayed me. I felt dirtier. I looked up at
the man who molested me and he had a smirk on his face. I saw him bringing his
hand up to his mouth so he could lick my come off before it dried.
“I was right, Frank.”
I cried harder and I curled into a ball.
February 5, 1996
It was the same thing over and over again, but eventually Father Way let me
shower. He gave me clothes, but they were too big. Father Way made comments as
he watched me dress and it made me only dress faster. I dressed in records
time.
When I was finished, Father Way picked me up and cuffed me to the bed as he
went to the kitchen. He came back down with half a piece of sandwich and I’ll
admit that I was hungry since I didn’t eat that much, but I didn’t want to eat.
I tried to pass it off as if I wasn’t hungry. I didn’t want the food but Father
Way shoved the food in my mouth and I had no choice but to swallow the food.
“When will you ever let me go?” I asked after I had swallowed the food.
“Not until you love me.” That’s all Father Way said.
“You want me to love you?” Father Way nodded. “But why do you want me to?”
Father Way didn’t answer me. Father Way walked away and went back to where he
always goes: Living Room. From where I was, I could tell that the TV was on. I
saw him flipping through the channels. I saw him stop on the news channel and I
listened closely.
The female news caster was talking. “Frank Iero has been missing for ten days,
and local police have been on the lookout. Sources have not found the victim,
but pictures of the young boy have been put out.” There was a picture of me on
the TV and then it vanished. The woman began talking again. “This boy was last
seen at the local Catholic church, as his parents have said.” The woman cleared
her throat before saying, “If you see this boy, please contact the police
immediately.”The news was gone and they weren’t talking about me anymore. 
I couldn’t believe what I had heard. My parents were looking for me, but that
still didn’t mean anything. They could’ve been just looking for me to save
their own asses. I didn’t know, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t want a
savior. I wanted them so much that it physically hurt me.
I heard Father Way’s footsteps come into the room I was in. He sat down beside
me and looked at me. He looked at me. It felt like he was staring right through
me. It made squirm and uncomfortable.
“I bet you heard that, didn’t you?” he whispered. He had gotten in my face and
stared into my eyes. “I bet you want your mommy and daddy, don’t you?” I
nodded. I did want them. “Wanna know something, Frankie?” he said.
“What?” I whispered.
“They can’t have you. You’re mine.”
“But they’re my parent’s.” It was at that time that I realized that freedom was
taken away and I was with the devil. The devil chose my fate.
Father Way was no father, he was the devil. He was living my life for me just
like everyone else has done. It seems that everyone else is the same and I was
just this person who was demanded to do things I didn’t want to. I was puppet
on a string, and the strings are getting lose and looser. One day they’re going
to snap and I was no longer being there. And when that time comes, it was
either Father Way choosing it or me.
“It doesn’t matter to me.”
“But it matters to me, Father!” I snapped. “I can’t take the pain anymore. I
can’t take how you treat me.”
“I don’t care what matters to you, Frank,” he said. “You’re mine and you have
no say as to what I do to you.”
“I hate you. This is why no one will like you, Father,” I spat. “If anyone
finds out, then everyone will hate your guts just like I do right now.”
“No one will find out because I’ll kill you before anyone does.”
“Why don’t you just kill me now?”
“Because I’m not done playing with you…you’re my new toy.”
I had taken a deep breath and I held in for a little bit before I had let it
out. I felt like killing him and then me. I didn’t care that it might send me
to Hell, but at that moment, I knew there was no God so why would there be
Heaven and Hell?
If there really was a God, then what did I do to deserve this?
February 10, 1996
Father Way would learn new ‘games’ and I hated every one of them, but all of
his games were the same and would all leave me sick and depressed, suicidal.
There would be times when he would use the whip, or he would make me hard. It
was when he would make me hard that I felt dirty no matter how many times he
would let me shower. I had scrubbed and scrubbed for what seemed like hours and
I was going to be clean. I would feel him on my skin even if he wasn’t there. I
had felt what he did to me in the car and I had felt his hands anywhere he had
touched me.
I heard Father Way’s footsteps coming toward the room and he was holding
something that I know, but I’ve never seen it up close. It was a dildo. It
looked huge and I didn’t want it anywhere near me because it was bigger than
Father Way. If I thought Father Way was big and hurt, then this toy would hurt
even more. I bit my lip and closed my legs tight. I balled my fists and I
tensed. I shook my head as Father Way came closer and closer to me.
“Oh yes,” he said. “We need a new game. I was wondering how this will feel when
I’m inside of you and this is, too.” His smile was evil. I started breathing
heavily and I tensed even more. I tensed so bad that it was hurting me.
“No, Father,” I had pleaded. “You already hurt me! Why cause more damage?” My
voice became squeaky and tears had rimmed my eyes.
“You seem to like the pain, Frank.” I shook my head. “Yes you do. Don’t deny
it.”
“I’m denying it because I don’t like the pain!” I screamed.
Father Way smacked me and the tears had broken free and fell down my cheeks. I
cried. I was so sick of crying and being weak with the thoughts of giving up.
There was no way that I could’ve stopped this. I can’t stop this because he was
stronger than me. I was this weak fifteen-year-old. I was a weak boy who had no
say in anything.
Father Way walked away and he grabbed something from a dresser. It was a tiny
liquid bottle and inside there was pink liquid. He poured some on the toy and
walked back over to me. He had only shoved two fingers inside me and then he
shoved the toy inside. I screamed because of the pain. It hurt worse than being
raped. I had started to bleed almost instantly. It wasn’t only moments later
when Father Way began squirting the liquid onto him after he got a condom. He
lined himself up and shoved in, as well. I had kept screaming until I couldn’t
scream anymore. It hurt so bad that I couldn’t concentrate on anything besides
the pain. I had felt the blood that was seeping onto the mattress.
“Please stop,” I had said, hoarsely. “It hurts—it hurts so much!”
Father Way ignored me, but he pulled out and not the toy. When he pulled out, I
could see the blood that was on him. He wiped it off with one hand and wiped it
off. He brought his hand back to the toy and turned it on. The toy began to
vibrate and everything had felt good, but I fought nonetheless. Father Way had
seen me trying to fight and he pulled the toy out but slammed it back in. I
couldn’t have helped the moan that was ripped away from my throat.
“See, I knew you liked it,” he whispered near my ear. He pulled away and began
to jack himself off, and when he finished, he came on my face. It got all over
me and I closed my eyes. I wanted to wipe it all off and scream even more, but
I didn’t have the ability to even talk from all the screaming I had done.
“I think you look good like this,” he said as he put his junk away. “I’m going
to draw it.” Father Way walked away and went to get his sketchbook and pencil.
He walked back and sat down on the chair. My eyes were still closed but I knew
Father Way began to draw what I looked like. I didn’t like the feeling of his
come drying on my face. It was very uncomfortable.
It seemed like forever until he was finished and wiped the substance off of me.
I looked at the drawing when he showed me and I looked away immediately. I
didn’t want to look at that. It was disgusting. I felt like puking and dying. I
wanted to die.
February 15, 1996
I’ve realized over time that I had lost weight and my wrists were getting
smaller and smaller. Father Way didn’t know that my wrists were so small that I
was able to slip out of them. I slipped out of them and it was in the middle of
the night when I did that. I was pretty sure that Father Way was asleep. I
slowly got out of bed after checking and I opened the door very slowly.
I heard the TV on when I walked into the living room. I looked back and forth
before walking down the hall to where the door was. I tried tip-toeing to keep
Father Way from hearing me. I didn’t know where he was in that house. I didn’t
know where his bedroom was, but I knew that he wasn’t in the living room. That
was all I knew.
“What are you doing?” The question Father Way asked startled me to the point I
jumped and made a noise. “Frank, where are you going?”
I turned around and saw Father Way, of course. He was in his pajamas and his
arms were crossed, and there was an evil look on his face. The look only grew
eviler as I didn’t answer him. I just stood there shaking and eyes wide. I
didn’t try to speak because I had known that anything I would’ve said would
have been ignored.
“Are you trying to leave me?” he spoke again. It was obvious. I was trying to
leave and I didn’t want to be here anymore. I wanted my bed and blankets. I
wanted to be under them and wrapped into a ball as I slept the days away until
I died. I knew I never had the guts to do suicide.
“Answer me,” he growled.
“Of course I’m trying to leave!” I yelled. “I want to go home!”
“I thought you didn’t like it at home? I thought you said your parents didn’t
love you.”
“I don’t care if they don’t. I just want to be out of this house. Please.”
“No.” After Father Way said that, he grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me
back to that room and threw me on the bed. He looked at the cuffs. He took my
wrists and placed them back in the cuffs and cuffed them tighter than before.
“I’m tired, Frank,” he said.
“Then go to bed and stop doing this to me.” I looked at the cuffs as I said
that and I tried yanking my wrists out but I only hurt myself by doing that and
I made Father Way chuckle.
“Never will I stop doing this to you, Frankie. You must understand that because
you’re mine forever.” Father Way smiled as he said that. I started breathing
heavily as he climbed on top of me and started kissing me. I tried fighting
him, but I gave up on trying stopping him. I wanted to keep fighting, but there
is no way I could because he’s much stronger than me. I was always tied or
cuffed here.
Father Way sat down on my thighs and I groaned because of how bigger he was. He
ran his fingers down my naked chest. He took my clothes away from me and he
told me that I didn’t need them anymore. He kept running his fingers down my
chest and he stopped at my belly button. He looks at me and says, “You know
what would go here?” I was terrified as to what he was about to say, but I
shook my head. “A carving,” he finished.
My eyes widened and I had shaken my head viciously as he got up. He walked out
of the room and when he walked back into the room, he had a box knife. He sat
back on my thighs and he smiled as he started to carve into me. I squeezed my
eyes shut and tried to hold in a scream but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to look
but when I did, he had already carved a bloody G and then came two letter es.
Blood was running fast down the wounds and he hopped off of me. He went away
and came back with a towel and cleaning ointment and big Band-Aids, and he
cleaned the wounds as he tried to stop the blood, too. It took a long time it
seemed and I was in so much pain. I felt like grabbing the knife and killing
him then me if I could. I kept screaming and screaming. I didn’t like this.
“I think it’s very arousing when you scream,” he whispered after the blood
stopped and was wrapped up. “I think…I think I deserve a reward for cleaning
you up.”
“I can’t move,” I snapped. “I’m in too much pain!”
“Don’t worry, I won’t be touching there.” Father Way moved away and went back
to where he kept the condoms and the liquid. He walked back over and barely
prepared me for this. He shoved himself inside me and kept violating me. I just
laid there like the weak boy I was. I was weak and I realized that. I also
realized I wouldn’t get a savior, but I did get a demon.
“So submissive,” he said between breaths. “Is there no more fight in ya?”
I looked at him. I wanted to nod but I didn’t. All I did was just laid there. I
didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that I did give up. He already knew
that I did, but still I had the feeling that if I said I gave up and all my
will and strength was gone, then he would gain satisfaction. I just turned my
head and closed my eyes as I ignored him.
Father Way had surprised me when he slapped me. My eyes opened me and I looked
at him as he said, “Don’t ignore me.” Tears automatically went down my cheeks
and I nodded brokenly. Now he really knew the fight was gone. I was his. He had
broken me and I wasn’t fixable. “Finally,” he said, whispering in my ear. “I
broke the poor little boy.”
I closed my eyes and I turned my head again.
February 25, 1996
Father Way came down the steps and unlocked the cuffs. He led me to the shower
and he stood outside the door as I washed myself. I scrubbed so hard that my
skin had turned raw. I scrubbed everywhere. It startled me when Father Way
banged on the door and told me to hurry up. I turned the water off and grabbed
the towel to dry myself and wrap around. I looked in the mirror and I saw that
my face had been sunken in. I looked so unhealthy and I knew it’s because I
barely ate, but I took that thought off my mind and brushed my teeth with the
tooth brush Father Way gave me.
After brushing my teeth, I couldn’t help but let the towel fall to my feet. I
could see my ribs and any bruises Father Way gave me. They were all up and down
my body, and there were bruises between my thighs. Some of the bruises were
yellow from age and there were new ones. There were finger prints on my hips
and neck. I was now ashamed of my body even more so.
“Frank,” Father Way said before coming in. He looked at me in the mirror and I
looked at me in the mirror before looking down because I was ashamed.
“Why do you keep doing this,” I muttered. It wasn’t really a question.
“Because I like to and it’s fun.”
“But don’t you care that you broke your vow?” I turned to look up at him.
“I don’t care about the vow anymore. I care about you.”
“If you care about me, then why do you keep hurting me?”
“Love and care hurts, Frank. You must understand that.”
“It doesn’t have to.” I was desperate for him to let me go. “Please…I’m already
hurting. Can’t you just let me go?”
Father Way shook his head. “No, but you can shut up.” Father Way took me by the
wrist and led me back into the room. He forced me to sit down and brushed my
hair for me. After he brushed my hair, he picked up a bottle. I looked at the
bottle and it was hair dye. He had dyed my hair black and cut it. It was no
longer brown and long. Gerard had left but came back minutes later with a case
and he opened it. It was clothes and he dressed me as if I was an infant.
“Why are you doing this?” I questioned. “Are you letting—?”
“No, but you’re coming upstairs with me.”
“Why?”
Father Way didn’t answer me. He took my hand and led me into the kitchen and
sat me down at the table. He walked away and started making lunch. I watched
him carefully in case he put anything in the food. He didn’t, but he gave the
sandwich to me when he was finished. I thanked him and ate it slowly. I only
had food once a week because I didn’t trust him all that much, but what made no
sense is he let me upstairs and dressed me and cut my hair. I ignored it and
let everything play out. I kept quiet as I ate and he, as well. He finished
before me and took the plate of my half-eaten sandwich. I hadn’t cared because
I was full.
Gerard led me back to the stairs and pushed me so hard that I had fallen down
the stairs. I hit my head and I had wavered between consciousness and
unconsciousness. My body finally gave in and I closed my eyes.
 
I didn’t wake up until I felt hands shaking me and removing my clothes, and I
felt pain. I opened my eyes and saw Father Way with a box knife again. He
picked me up and was laid on my stomach as he cuffed me. I trembled and I tried
to figure out what I did wrong, but then I remembered I did nothing and all
this was fun and games to him. He wanted this for fun because he liked to see
me in pain and he liked the tears that ran down my cheeks or the screams. He
was sadistic.
“I know something to carve in now,” he said. I was too scared to ask what it
was, but when he started carving, I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the
pain. He took a long time. And when he was finished, he cleaned me up and
bandaged me. I just stayed the crying and crying because of the burning pain. I
didn’t understand him.
I passed out again because of the pain.
 
I woke up again because of the nightmares. There were nightmares of him carving
into my face or cutting my lower half, or him slicing my neck. I was screaming
and screaming, but he didn’t stop. He never stopped. I also dreamed that he
shot me, but I woke up thinking that wasn’t a nightmare. That was a dream that
I wanted to be real. I wanted to be killed. I want to be dead because of how
worthless I now am and how dirty, disgusting. I’ll never be loved again, ever.
Father Way took away everything. He took away my virginity, my strength, hope,
fight.
I wished he would’ve taken my life instead.
I called for Father Way to fix my cuffs or at least make it not so
uncomfortable. My back had been aching and I couldn’t have lain like that, but
after realizing that, I would’ve hurt my back anyway. I was screwed.
Father Way hadn’t come down but I did hear him talking upstairs. I hadn’t known
if it was over the phone or not, but I heard his voice. I shouldn’t have
talked. I was scared that he would punish me even farther, but when was all the
beatings and carvings and spankings punishment? Most of these were fun,
arousing, and games to him.
I had tried to relax my muscles and not have it hurt so much. I had fallen
asleep, but it was only a while considering Father Way had taken off the cuffs
and dragged my upstairs. I was half-awake and I looked at him. He looked down
at me and slapped me so hard my head turned to the side. My eyes had watered
and my cheek had stung.
“I was on thephone,” he yelled. “Didn’t you hear it ring?”
I shook my head. “No, Father.”
“Well, that was your—” There was a knock on the door and Father Way slapped me
one more time before pushing me down the steps.
When I hit the floor, my head bounced off of it and back on it. My vision was
swimmy and I tried fighting the urge to go unconscious, but it was hard. I need
to fight—that was all that was going through my body at that time. I tried
rolling over but the pain in my back had flared up and I held in a scream.
There were tears in my eyes and I no longer could fight.
 
I had woken up to hands that were on my body. I screamed out because of the
pain. I was angry because they wouldn’t let up. I couldn’t open my eyes because
the light in the room was turned on and it was bright. I heard noises outside
the house. I was in so much pain.
“Sadistic bastard,” I growled. “Get off me.”
I was laid on the bed again and I felt caring hands run through my hair. It
wasn’t Father Way because when I opened my eyes, it was my mother. I looked at
her. Her face was tear-stained and she looked tired. It had looked like she
didn’t get any rest at all. I started crying because she started crying harder.
“I’m sorry, baby,” my mom said. “I should’ve made you come home. It’s my entire
fault, isn’t it?”
I had shaken my head. “I trusted him.”
The noises got closer and eventually, a paramedic had come down the stairs.
They lifted me and when I was up there and being laid on the gurney, I saw
Father Way done on the ground as he was cuffed. I was rolled out of the house
and into the ambulance. My mom had gotten on with me and she held my hand the
entire way.
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered.
I only nodded to make her feel better because I knew it’d never be okay.
 
We eventually arrived to the hospital and I was rushed it. They checked me and
did a STI test, but I refused but only eventually I agreed. I came out clean
and I was put into a room. My dad was sitting in a chair far away from the bed
and my mom was holding my hand as she sat in the chair near me. I was startled
and so was my mom when the detectives walked in through the door.
“Hello,” one of the detectives said. “I’m detective Holly and that is my
partner Alex.” She pointed to the male detective standing by her.
“Hello,” I had answered.
“We have a few questions, if that’s okay with you.” My dad walked out of the
room and Holly pulled the chair up near my bed.
“That’s okay with me.”
“Sweetie, do you want me out of the room?” my mom asked before Holly could’ve
even spoke.
I bit my lip. “Yeah, I don’t want to hurt you.” My mom nodded and kissed my
forehead before leaving.
“So, tell me, Frank,” she started, “how did you meet Gerard?”
“Gerard? That’s Father Way’s name?” I asked.
“Yes.” She nodded.
“Oh.” I cleared my throat. “Well, Father—Gerard he…was my priest. We hung out
after and before Mass. I would help him clean and we would talk. I thought he
was my friend.”
“When did all of this start?”
“Well, it was near October when I met him. He was a new priest and he seemed
cool plus I had nothing better to do at home.”
Holly nodded. “Did he ever try to touch you or make you uncomfortable before he
kidnapped you?”
“No. He never did.”
“How did the abduction even start?”
“Well…I started to get sick after the Mass and my parents already left. Like I
said, I hung out after, but I got sick and he offered to take me home.”
“Did he take you home and come get you afterwards?”
“No. He—I thought he was going to take me home, but he didn’t. When I told him
to turn and where to go, he passed it." I swallowed. “And…he hurt me.”
“How did he hurt you, Frank?”
I had felt tears prickle my eyes. I closed them shut but it only brought back
the images of being violated. “He raped me.” It came out harshly. I had been
getting mad. I bit my fist.
Holly nodded and looked at her partner. “One more question, Frank, is that
okay?”
I had taken a deep breath. “I guess.”
“What else did he do to you?”
“Why don’t you take a guess?” I spat. “What does it look like? He raped me,
molested me, and scarred me. He scarred me mentally and physically.” I had
broken into tears and I couldn’t have helped it. There was so much pain that
built up inside me and there was so much self-loathing and anger.
I knew the detectives saw that I was getting angry because Alex said, “Let’s
go, Holly.”
After the detectives left, my parents came back in and my mom had resumed her
position near me while she held me. She had rocked me back and forth, but my
dad didn’t come near me. The facial expression he had was the look Father Way
gave me. He wanted to hurt someone, but my dad didn’t want to hurt me. He
wanted to hurt Father Way.
 
 March 1, 1996
 
Questions after questions were all it was and trials and more trials as they
questioned Father Way and me. They just questioned everyone, it seemed. They
asked me the same questions that Holly asked me but it was harsher. It was a
battle and it made my head hurt. I had started to sweat as I answered the
questions. Father Way just stared at me as tears ran down his cheeks. I wanted
to scream at him every time we had made eye contact.
I eventually did. “Fuck you, Gerard,” I screamed.
I looked around the courtroom and saw people gasping. I had been heaving and I
refused the tears that had wanted to stream down my face. I got off the stand
and sat down by my mom. The trial ended and as my family walked out, I saw
Gerard being dragged out in cuffs. I wanted to say so many harsh things.
 
October 28, 1997
It took me a year to be able to get the courage to face him again. I wanted
closure. I needed to see Gerard and my mom had barely agreed, but eventually
she did. She had taken me to the prison and she stayed in the car. I walked to
the prison’s gate and they allowed me inside. I asked to see Gerard Way and
they led me to this room.
There was a telephone that I needed to use and a plastic window. I sat down on
the seat and picked the phone up. I took a deep breath when Gerard said, “You
haven’t changed a bit.”
“Of course I hadn’t,” I seethed. “It’s been only a year.”
“It seems longer than that, Frankie,” Gerard said with a half-smile. “I missed
you.”
“You don’t miss me,” I snapped. “You miss me being…your toy!”
“I’m sorry,” he said. He looked sorry but I hadn’t cared.
“You’re not sorry.” My voice had wavered. I took a deep breath. “You know, the
scars are there. I’m not talking about mental ones either. I’m talking about
the words you carved.”
“And—”
“Shut up,” I growled. “I had to become homeschooled because I refused to change
in gym. I failed it because I refused. Gerard, don’t you realized how you
ruined my life?”
“I never—”
“I’m not finished talking,” I growled again. “I can’t be around any boys. My
own father won’t even be near me. He’s probably scared that he’ll get dirty
like me. I can’t shower either. Showering and looking at my body is like a
chore—and better yet, when I do shower, I scrub for hours and hours.”
“Are you trying to guilt-trip me?” Gerard mutters. “I’m already ashamed.”
“No.” I had shaken my head. “All I want to say is that you ruined my life and
that I hope you die and rot in a cell, but I bet you’re already someone’s bitch
in there, aren’t you?” I seethed. “I bet you like it when he does it dry,
aren’t you?” My breathing had gotten harsher. “Just like you done to me. Here’s
a tip for you, Gerard: don’t drop the soap.”
Gerard busted a gut. “I’m no one’s bitch.”
I growled and laughed. “You want to know what else that sucks in my life,
Gerard?”
“What is that, Frankie?” He winked.
“I miss you. I can’t help but miss you. I also hate you, I think. But I think I
only miss Father Way, not Gerard. You’re two different people, Gerard.” Gerard
seemed to be in shock. I ignored it and whispered, “I’m leaving. Goodbye,
Gerard.” I heard Gerard bang on the window, but I ignored it and walked back
out and to the car.
I sat down in the car and saw my mom look at me. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yes,” I lied. “Let’s go home.”
~Fin
 
 
 
 
 
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