More Than Just Curious

Frank’s P.O.V

The walls began closing in on me, suffocating me. My lungs burned as I breathed in all the air that I could, before blowing out just as fast. I felt so claustrophobic in the small space of my bedroom. I stared at the wall, and kept thinking that something would come out of it and go after me. I darted my eyes across the room, glaring everything down, searching for any abnormity. They are going to be back. They said they were coming after me.

The shrill noise of the phone ringing made me jump up off of my chair and scream loudly. So loudly that it had hurt my own ears. I flew myself on the bed and cried as the phone kept ringing and ringing. It could be them calling, trying to find out where I live or my information. I didn’t know anything.

“This is Linda Gerard; Frank can’t come to the phone right now. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to let you go,” I heard my mother’s sweet voice coming out from in front of my door.

Not a minute later, I saw my door open a crack. I screamed and grabbed a knife off of my bedside table, holding it up high as the person came into my room, switching on my light. I closed my eyes for a moment, waiting for them to adjust to the harsh light. Once I opened them again, I was greeted by the shocked face of my mother.

“Frank! What are you doing with that?” she exclaimed, running over to me and trying to wrestle the knife out of my hands.

“No! No mom I need this! I need this for when they come back for me! You know it’s only a matter of time now, they’ll come and I need this to defend myself,” I explained to her, trying to act as calm as I could be. She sighed and dropped her hands from the knife, making me grasp it tighter and shove it under my pillow.

My mom sat down on the bed next to me. She sighed and put her head in her hands. I could tell that she was crying by the way that her shoulders were going up and down in an erratic pattern. I couldn’t help but think back to the last time that this happened. Only that time, I heard voices.

He came the day of the accident. He told me all about it, the way it was my entire fault, the way that I had killed my girlfriend. He soon left a few months after that, after I had stopped thinking about it as much and got professional help. Now, I was petrified that he would be back, replaying all my horrors.

“Frank, it’s okay honey; no one is coming after you. I swear. Those guys are in prison now, they can’t touch you,” my mom assured me. I looked at her, my eyes wide with shock.

“Did they tell you to say that?” I began. “You’re in on this with them aren’t you?” I accused her. She looked at me like I was crazy. I am not crazy.

“Frank! I’m your mother; I would never turn against you like that, never. You are my son and I love you. “She told me, voice cracking as it sounded like she was about to cry. I stared at her for a moment, debating on whether or not she was telling the truth.

Her russet eyes stared back at me; this was my mother that I was talking about. My mom had always been so trustworthy. Yet, she could still be against me. Anyone could be against me.

“He was my father. I was his son and yet he went against me. Why would he do that to me? Why would he make me shoot the love of my life? Why would he make me be a murderer? His own son, his own flesh and blood. You could be just like him!” I yelled, tears falling from my eyes. I hated talking about this; it brought back so many horrible memories. So much pain.

She looked at me, on the verge of tears again. Yet, she had another emotion, one that was full of anger. For a moment, it looked as if she was about to slap me, her arm slightly raised.

“Never, and I mean never, compare me to your father again.” She said as she got up and walked out of my room, turning off my light and shutting my door. I was once again in darkness.

I gripped onto my bed sheet roughly, not wanting to let it go, scared that when I did I would lose all of my sanity, but maybe, it was already too late.

“It’s your entire fault you know,” I said into the darkness. “It’s all your fault that I’m so messed up, so delusional. But it’s my fault too!” I screamed at myself.

I was silent for a moment more staring out into the blackness of my room. There was no noise, nothing. It was just me in here, or that is what I thought. You never know what’s lurking in the shadows.

“I know that you’re coming for me. I know that you’re coming back for me dad, I know you’re coming back to kill me too. But don’t you worry. This time, I will be ready for you.” I called out. “And you will be the one that dies this time, not me, not anyone else. Not anyone that I care about.”

I stared down at my hands, and clenched them into fists. I stared at them for a moment, until the knuckles began to turn white. I let an animalistic growl escape from inside my throat and punched the wall, the interior broke and pieces shattered everywhere. I felt a burning sensation in my fists, but I didn’t want to stop. I punched it again and again, shattering the wall. My knuckles began gushing blood, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to stop.

I was done with this. I was done feeling sorry for myself. I was done feeling. I wanted nothing, but the sweet, sweet taste of revenge. And I would get my revenge. Just you wait and see.

I grabbed the towel off of my bedside table and tried my best to clean the blood off of my knuckles. Once I was done, I unfolded my comforter and lay down in my bed, plotting my revenge. My father got out in five years’ time, and I would be ready for him.

I got the sudden urge to call Gerard and tell him about my plans, but I had to be careful. Someone could be watching, and I couldn’t be around Gerard so much. I cared about him. I don’t want him dead too. I shuffled and got comfortable under the covers, ready to go to sleep for the night. I would talk to Gerard tomorrow; I wanted his help in this. He was my best friend.