I Can Transform You

POV: Gerard

My feet squelched and sunk with every step I took through the pitch black field. I’d lived by this field my whole life and never felt any desire to trek across it before, so I’d never realised how fucking massive it was. It seemed neverending tonight, but maybe that was because I couldn’t quite see where I was going with my pathetic little flashlight. I was trying to walk as fast as I could, but the mud was like quick sand, working against me and trying to suck me into the ground. Which yes, I’ll admit there had been times in my life where I’d wished the ground would swallow me up, but now that it was literally trying to, I realised what a terrifying concept that was.

In the near distance, I could see the church, looking creepier than ever illuminated by several dim lights. There were no lights in the graveyard though; just pitch black nothingness as far as the eye could see. I’d never really been scared of the dark until this particular moment. Focusing on the haunted building in front of me, I stopped dead in my tracks and swallowed hard, gripping my flashlight a little tighter, hoping it might do me a favour and get brighter; bright enough to light up my entire eerie surroundings.

Maybe this was a bad idea. Correction: this was definitely a bad idea. Why on earth did I ever think swimming through a sea of mud to get to this graveyard in the dead of night was a good idea? Genius fucking move, Gerard, like yeah, good things will totally come from this.

There were a couple of low, haunted hoots from an owl watching over me, but it was soon drowned out by the sound of squelching mud. And it was in that moment that my heart jerked to a horror-struck stop, because I wasn’t moving. It wasn’t me. No, I was standing very still, sinking deeper into the ground with every passing second. So evidently, I wasn't alone here.

Right, well, I’d like to take this time to congratulate myself on getting into this fucking great situation.

I had two very clear choices right now: try and run away from whoever was following me – which would most likely end with them catching me and brutally murdering me – OR, remain where I was, not moving a muscle, and let the ground slowly kill me instead. An all-round winning situation.

“Who – who’s there?” I demanded of the darkness, bravely but barely audibly. It was more of a strong whisper. My hands were shaking as I swung the flashlight round in panic, desperately seeking out the fellow trespasser lurking in the shadows.

Everything went very still for a moment. Nobody moved; even the owl didn’t hoot and the wind dropped. I had a horrible feeling that whatever was lurking in the graveyard was now hiding, just watching me and waiting to make its attack. And yet, I remained rooted to the spot, not taking the chance to run for my life. I remained paralysed to the spot, straining my ears as hard as I could, for minutes on end, but I didn’t hear anything else. Whoever was here with me had disappeared into the darkness without a trace, and I didn’t know whether to be thankful for that or not.

With a deep, shaky breath, I continued slowly in my tracks towards the graveyard. That’s right, I still wasn’t turning back… There was surely a reason for my stupidity, you would think, but I didn’t really know what it was yet. I’d lost hope of finding Frank here; why did I ever think he would come here, of all places? Sure, he had unfinished business with his dead father, but it was business he never wanted to finish… He was too much of a coward to confront his past face-on by coming here tonight.

So why was I still senselessly forging ahead? It felt like there was an invisible force, pulling me in, not letting me turn back before it was time. I was on a mission for answers, and there was something here in my surroundings that would solve the puzzle in my mind. I could feel it; the missing puzzle piece was here.

I shone my flashlight over each grave as I passed it, reading the names of the bodies buried under them and shuddering with each one. I’m all for creepy things, man, but this was a whole other level. Me and Mikey always used to talk about coming out here in the dead of night to ‘set the spirits free’ with some voodoo chant, but we were just kids with a warped imagination trying to entertain ourselves; we barely even made it out of our bedrooms, let alone to this graveyard.

I wondered what Mikey would say if he knew I was here now. I probably should have told him I coming here, in case something happened to me. He might have even come with me, and hell, I wouldn’t mind some company right about now… Well, thanks brain, for that delayed common sense.

I was too busy silently cursing myself and trying to make out the inscriptions on each grave to focus on where I was going, and before my brain could register what had just happened I was staggering backwards after walking into something solid and very much alive. I seemed to have found the other living thing that was in this graveyard with me tonight. I wanted to run but my heart had officially stopped and my feet were well and truly rooted to the spot. Death was imminent.

“Gerard?”

No fucking way! My heart kickstarted at once; the relief was so strong I feared I might pass out from it.

“Frank?”

I shone the flashlight right in his face and he threw a hand up to protect his eyes, or hide behind… Judging from the hood that was covering most of his face, he didn’t want to be seen.

“Holy shit, I thought you were the Grim Reaper or some shit! What the fuck are you doing out here?” I was so ecstatic about finding him I was practically yelling, my voice echoing around the deathly silent graveyard, falling on dead ears.

“Keep your voice down,” he hissed in paranoia, “and give me that,” he lunged forward and snatched the flashlight from my hand, turning it off and making us invisible to the naked eye. Evidently he didn’t want to be caught.

There was something unnerving about the distance between us. I guess I thought when I found him I would be able to throw my arms around him and hold him safely, calmly reassure him everything was going to be okay and then take him home. Plain and simple. But I could see immediately that I had underestimated the stability of the situation. He wasn’t even looking at me, let alone hugging me and coming home obediently; there was a threatening demeanour about him that warned me to stay back. He seemed… different. Entirely possessed by his inner demons.

“You shouldn’t have come here, Gerard,” he stated flatly, finally looking at me. His eyes had lost all light; they were so cold and dark, I barely recognised them.

What the fuck had happened to him since I last saw him in his room at the institute? What was the final straw that made him run away and reach breaking point again?

“I - I don’t understand, Frank. Why are you here? Why did you run away?” My voice was more curious than demanding; I just needed answers, an explanation to this madness.

He lowered his eyes again and focused on the flashlight he was turning over in his hands. I could practically hear his mind ticking over, replaying this evening's events.

“I saw him,” he spoke hesitantly. I could feel the fear radiating from him. “He was in my room.”

I didn’t need to ask who ‘he’ was. I swallowed nervously and took a step forward, wanting to comfort him but not knowing how to. What do you say to someone who’s been hallucinating about their dead father? This wasn’t a good sign at all; I felt sick with worry. The traumatic memories of his past had succeeded in taking over his mind and were now coming alive again. I wasn’t sure he had any remaining sanity left.

“I felt like I was back there… back at that night,” he muttered, his eyes darting back and forth in search of answers his brain wasn’t giving him. “I had to come here… to make sure…”

I watched as his eyes drifted to the right and froze for a moment, focusing on something on the ground, and then he aimed the flashlight and turned it on, illuminating a black marble gravestone. Repressing the urge to back away, I squinted at the epitaph.

‘In loving memory of Franklin Anthony Iero, 1961 – 2003’

A shudder ran through me. Seeing Frank’s name printed on a gravestone made my heart lurch horribly, even though I knew it wasn’t him lying under it. His father must have had the same name. Even so, it was a terrifying reminder that this was where Frank could end up soon if he carried on with this self-destructive behaviour.

I didn’t know what to say. I glanced up from the grave to look at him and recoiled slightly at the look of anger on his face. I expected the emotionless exterior I was used to, but it seemed his hard shell was crumbling. He didn’t seem to notice me standing beside him, staring anxiously and debating whether to put my arm around him; in that moment, it was just him and his father.

“Look what you’ve done to me,” he choked out, sounding tortured. His body was trembling all over, the pent-up anger taking him over.

The wind whistled eerily, making the leaves of all the trees rustle. I glanced around the graveyard fearfully and wrapped my arms around my body, trying not to think about how drastically the temperature had just dropped. Shit, this was creepier than that time I did a Ouija board.

“I trusted you!” Frank’s voice boomed around the deserted cemetery, and I had a horrible feeling he might wake the dead. The tears were starting to fall now, slipping down his screwed up face one by one. It was contagious to me. “I fucking worshipped you! How could you do that to me?”

Although I'd never been told me exactly what went down that night, I suddenly knew. Frank once told me the lie version of what had happened, the one he had fooled himself into believing all these years, where a man called Martin was the monster who tried to kill him but ended up killing his Dad… Standing here now with him breaking down at his father’s grave, I realised. The ‘Martin’ character was his Dad. I was piecing it all together and it was beginning to make sense to me. His Dad was the one who turned into a monster that night... And he must have done unspeakable things to Frank… Things he couldn’t ever forgive himself for, and so he killed himself right there in front of him.

And now I finally understood why Frank was the way he was. Why I'd never known the 'real' him... He experienceed too much trauma for one kid to handle, so he had to invent a whole new world to live in, with new memories and a new persona… A sweet escape from a brutal reality. And it had worked for all these years; he’d lived a blissful lie where no one had made him face up to the truth; he was in control of his own mind, keeping the real memories on lockdown and creating new ones.

Then, the world started pressuring him into facing the past… Living in the real world, instead of the one he had fabricated... And now he’s powerless to his own demons, a prisoner of his own mind.

“Thank you for ripping out my heart,” he declared intensely, staring down at the grave in disgust, the tears still falling like ticking bombs. “I hope you fucking rot in hell.”

In the creepiest timing in horror story history, the sky began to rumble with thunder, and I glanced up in time to see an electric bolt of lightning tear through the black clouds. Brilliant, like just in case this whole ordeal wasn’t fucking terrifying enough, a thunderstorm has to join in.

The deafening noise seemed to disrupt Frank’s concentration and jerk him back to his surroundings; he glanced briefly at the menacing-looking sky and then at me, then without a word, just turned on his heel and started to run towards the dimly-lit church. I didn’t know if he was running from me or the storm.

“Frank!” I yelled over the heavy rain, my body responding to the invisible rope that tied us together, pulling me after him.

Who knew that motherfucker could run so fast?

He ran all the way up to the massive wooden doors of the church and started to wrestle with them, trying to break in. I understood his craving for shelter from the storm, but man, that church looked hella creepy, and I didn’t particularly like the idea of trespassing in one of God’s houses. He’s gonna be pissed… What if he sets the undead on us as punishment?

“Frank, let’s just go home,” I cried desperately, glancing at our house in the distance, on the other side of the field/sea of mud. We’d probably drown trying to get there but it was a risk I was willing to take. I just wanted to be anywhere but here right now.

“You go,” he retorted fiercely, making his feelings clear. He wanted to be alone, but I knew from past experience that nothing good ever came from leaving him on his own. I had to stick this out.

I fell silent and began to pray frantically in my mind. ‘Please don’t let the doors open, just let me get Frank home safely…’

His vigorous handle-shaking and shoving on the door suddenly paid off as they creaked open. Of all the times my prayers had been unanswered, this was the most disappointing. I mean, I’d gotten my hopes up that God would answer this time because I thought he’d be on my side in this, since it’s his home. I understood nothing in that moment.

He wasted no time in slipping through the doors; I took a deep breath before mustering up the courage to enter the creepiest fucking place I’d ever been at this time of night. It was pitch black inside, I literally couldn’t see a thing. I was having my worst nightmare realised, for the hundreth time this night.

“Frank?” I called out nervously, taking cautious steps forward and looking around frantically in the hope I might suddenly be able to see something.

“Where’s the light switch in this place?” came the impatient response, and my eye caught sight of the dim flashlight on the other side of the church where he seemed to be searching the walls.

I used to come to this church a lot when I was younger. When my mum was still around and we were a ‘happy’ family, we came every Sunday. But after she left, my dad kind of stopped believing in God and we never came again. That’s another reason why it’s painful for me to be here tonight; there’s too many memories under this high ceiling.

I headed in Frank’s direction, my feet slow and steady and my arms outstretched feeling my way, making sure I didn’t fall over or walk into anything. Frank, on the other hand, was not being as careful - there was a sudden massive crash that came from where he was standing, followed by him dropping the flashlight in shock and smashing it. Brilliant.

The crash echoed around the vast space for what felt like minutes. I stopped in my tracks and looked around wildly in distress at nothing, waiting for him to say something over all the noise, to confirm he wasn't dead. When he didn’t, I broke the silence: “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer, but to my surprise and great relief, the church suddenly flooded with light, and I found myself temporarily blind from the sudden brightness. He must have found the light switch at last, and not a minute too soon. I groaned, rubbing my watery eyes before squinting around my lit-up surroundings.

I spotted him in the far corner, lifting up a bookcase he had knocked over; there were books everywhere, but at least nothing else had smashed. I went over to help him put the books back, but he saw me coming and just walked in the other direction. Up until now, I’d been ignoring his avoidant attitude towards me, but now it was really starting to get to me.

“Frankie, please,” I cried helplessly, forgetting about the books. “I know you want to be alone, but I just want to be here for you. Stop pushing me away.” He and I both knew full well that he needed me, so why was he acting like he didn’t? “We don’t even need to talk if you don’t want to, we can just sit here.”

There was so much I wanted to say, but really, what comfort would it be to him? I didn’t understand what he was going through and he knew that; I couldn’t pretend that I did. Maybe silence was the best option right now.

I wasn’t sure if he still wanted me to leave or not, but he seemed to be making the most of my ‘no talking’ offer and he had even taken a seat on one of the wooden benches. I took this as my cue to go and sit beside him, silently. I took a risk and invaded his personal space, sitting so close that our arms and shoulders were touching. He paid no attention to me, staring ahead at the many statues and paintings illustrating the story of Christ. I had a feeling he was praying silently for help in that mixed up head of his.

We didn’t speak for several minutes; my ears had become extra sensitive to sound by this point, and I was in a sort of trance listening to the aggressive storm outside. So when Frank finally spoke, I jumped overdramatically.

“I’m leaving, Gerard.”

His words were blunt and they didn’t process in my brain. My first thought was he was leaving the church now.

“What?” I turned my head and my eyes immediately locked with his. It was a shock to my system, having gone most of the night with no eye contact from him.

“I’m getting out of this place.” Still wasn’t 100% sure if he was talking about the church or not. “I need to start over, somewhere new… Somewhere far away,” he spoke urgently, like his life was on the line. Which I guess it kinda was in the long-term, if he stayed here.

I understood part of what he was saying now, and he wasn't talking about the church at all. There was just one thing I didn't quite understand, or maybe I didn't want to...

“What about me?” I sounded so vulnerable. I hated that.

For the first time all night, he suddenly seemed to want me to stay by his side, because he took my hand in his, making my heart remember how it feels to be complete.

But the feeling was snatched away so suddenly with the words that fell from his lips.

“I’m sorry… I’ve got to do this on my own, Gee.” He looked desperate but determined, fighting back the tears. I tried to do the same, to keep my composure - to be his rock like always.

He was pushing me away and yet holding onto me for dear life all at the same time. I sensed that there was conflict in his mind and I could probably change his decision if I tried hard enough; I could make him stay here with me and keep getting the therapy he so desperately needed… But I admired his courage to want to turn his life around and stand on his own two feet. And I believed in him.

After everything that had happened tonight, I knew I had to let him go this time.

I nodded solemnly, dropping my eyes to our intertwined fingers. Fuck, this hurt. Be strong, Gerard, hold it together…

“I’ll come back for you,” he assured me, but I daren’t let myself believe it for one second. If I pinned all my hopes for the future on Frank coming back to me, my heart would start a riot. I would not survive if he didn't keep his word. No, I couldn't spend my life waiting... If I had no expectations, I couldn’t be disappointed.

“I love you,” was all I could think to say. It was all the support I could give right now.

“I love you too,” he nodded, leaning in closer to rest his forehead against mine.

What more could either of us say? The emotion was too strong; we found ourselves falling victim to the silence once more.