A New Jersey Haunting

“Ma, I’m back!” yelled Frank, walking in the door He knew she probably wouldn’t be sober enough to care but he said it anyway.

“Frankie?” Linda Iero stumbled down the stars, a bottle clutched tightly in her hand. “H-how was school?”

“Fine Ma. You know you need to be careful on those stairs,” he cautioned, walking her over to the couch.

“I think you’re going to have to make dinner tonight, Frankie. I’m not feeling very well. There’s some ground beef in the fridge,” his mom slurred, trying to be helpful.

“Ma, I’m a vegetarian. I have been for years. It’s alright, I’ll find something,” sighed Frank, leaving his mother on the sofa and wandering into the kitchen.

Ever since his father had left when he was eight, Linda had tried to find her happiness in the bottom of a bottle. Frank learned early on to take care of himself and the house. He had to make the welfare and unemployment stretch but his mom always managed to sneak out money to buy alcohol. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he had to start working.

Frank spread some peanut butter on a slice of bread and ate it, washing the sticky mess down with a glass of milk. He rinsed the glass and knife, leaving them in the sink to clean later.

“Ma?” he asked, looking in the living room.

She was already passed out cold, snoring on the sofa. He shook his head and walked up the stairs to his room. Linda hadn’t been his mom for years but he still missed her when he had days like today.

He flopped on his bed heaving a sigh and thinking about the rape gang. Frank knew they were right there in the warehouse with him so where had they gone? And where had that boy come from? He hadn’t looked much older than Frank, who was 16. Although, he had a face that looked as if it wouldn’t age. And although the intense kiss had turned him on, Frank sensed great sadness and even quite a bit of danger in the simple act.

He curled up on his side, his hair falling in his face. He wanted to meet that guy again and ask him what he’d done to avoid the rape gang.

Frank rolled out of bed, pulling on a hoodie and sneaking down the stairs. He was quiet more from habit than from need. He peeked in on Linda to make sure she was still out before he made his slow way back to the warehouse. Frank managed to keep out of at least three confrontations with gangs in the area.

“Why am I even here?” he muttered, ducking into the alley leading to the warehouse. It was starting to get dark, increasing the thickness of the gloom as he opened the door of the building.

“Hello?” he called, half-heartedly flipping a large switch. To his surprise a few of the overhead lights came on and flickered dangerously. One of them exploded showering the area with glass and sparks. Frank jumped and looked around when he heard something fall.

“Hello!” he called again, worrying when he received no answer.

Frank shivered, feeling a cold breeze brush his shoulder even through his hoodie. The hair stood up on the back of his neck and he moved quickly out of the draft. He squinted, seeing something in the flickering light. The light came on…nothing. The light went off and…

Frank backed up, running the wrong way in his panic. He couldn’t even explain what he’d seen but he knew it was bad. He leaned against a wall, panting. Then the yelling stared.

Frank crawled under another tarp, waiting out the storm. He heard screaming and yelling but no coherent words. A high, keening whimper followed the screaming and then…silence. The lack of noise frightened him more than the commotion.

He crawled backwards as a dark, sticky river pushed its way under the tarp. He was forced to stop when his back hit an old crate also under the tarp. Frank heard a strangling, choking sound and then silence again. The smell of blood filled his nostrils and he scrambled out of the tarp, away from the sticky river of dark crimson.

He swung his head from side to side, sweating bullets in spite of the cold. The warehouse was empty, no blood, and no bodies. He felt someone staring at him and turned slowly. The hairs rose on his neck again when he saw the boy standing in the corner.

“Were you the one making all that noise?” asked Frank, shocked that his voice was working.

The boy didn’t say a word, just continued to stare as before.

“I’m Frank and you are…?”

More silence.

He sighed, “We’re not getting anywhere. Look, if you need a place to stay you could come home with me. I know it can’t be fun sleeping in a warehouse.”

Another noise sounded deep in the building causing Frank to turn his head. When he faced forward again the boy, no, man was directly in font of him. The stranger grabbed his chin with ice cold fingers and kissed him hard.

Frank let him, unable to break the aggressively sexual assault on his lips. He began to taste blood and the man pulled away covering his mouth. Frank noticed the crimson liquid trickling from underneath and between the stranger’s fingers.

“Shit! You need to go to the-” Before he could finish, the young man ran and disappeared again.

“Are you crazy! Do you want to bleed to death?” yelled Frank, ignoring the tightness in his pants. “And stop kissing me!”

He didn’t really mean the last statement but he decided to tack it on anyway. Walking home with an extreme hard on was annoying as hell and he hated to keep repeating the experience.