Status: In Progress
Last Chance
Chapter One
1 Year Earlier
Frank’s P.O.V
It was 1:30pm and Frank sat alone in a showing of Jurassic Park 3. The theater was empty save for an elderly couple, and Frank had positioned himself in the highest, darkest corner. There, he’d immediately lit up a cigarette, and began to wait out the couples’ patience with the smoke’s thick smell.
About 20 minutes into the film, the two got up and shot Frank an accusing look. He just flicked ash to the floor and stared back. He really didn’t care if they reported him. He’d been kicked out of enough places, and the IMAX in the middle of a school day wouldn’t be the worst of them.
As he chain smoked a pack, Frank’s throat slowly built up a burn and smoke clouded the small theater. With each exhale, he imagined the last year being erased. As usual, it only worked until the cigarette he was on ended, so he’d light up another.
The movie ended, and in a few minutes, school (where Frank should be) would get out. The bell would ring and the teens would swarm like ants from the hallways and outside into the sunshine.
Forever ago, Frank would’ve been with them. Forever ago, Frank and his best friend would laugh and shove their ways to their cars and spend the rest of the day fucking around together.
But everyone was gone now, and Frank was stuck here.
He left the theater, scrubbing his eyes furiously and ignoring the looks the theater employees shot him. In the parking lot, he found his beat-to-shit car, climbed in and sat motionless for a moment before starting it.
Frank’s work started in a couple hours, but he desperately needed the distraction. He’d spent his last twenty bucks to get into the movie, so he figured he might as well head over to the Walmart, where he was a cashier, and see if he could get an earlier shift.
Frank pulled into the superstore-parking lot and yanked on his scratchy Walmart- blue polo. He got out, kicked his door shut, and slouched inside.
Work took up most of Frank’s afternoons now. Typically by the time it was over, he’d come home around nine, exhausted and starving, and make himself a bowl of Lucky Charms. He’d then shuffle down the hall to his room and stay there for the rest of the night.
Tonight, though, was one of those nights when his parents decided to drag him into one of their everlasting fights. It seemed like they never even drew a breath between conflicts, and neither of them had a second thought about using Frank as a firing target for their insults and hate.
Frank had walked into his house, still in his work clothes, and had immediately been smacked in the face by the screaming going on further down the hall. His mother was literally screeching at Frank’s father, who was managing to growl in a few words edge-wise.
Frank decided to skip dinner and go straight to his room, but when he walked into the light of the family room, his parents caught sight of him.
Frank’s mom descended. “Frank, what the fuck! Your school called again and said you skipped. This is the third fucking time in the last week!”
She had crossed the room and was glaring up at him menacingly, her index finger was stabbing repeatedly into Frank’s chest. He remained quiet.
Their looks were like acid on his skin, and Frank felt defeat fill his bones. There was no escaping.
He stood still as both his mother and Frank Sr. set on him for skipping. It seemed like the only time they got along was when they were mad, so Frank let his mind wander as the yelling continued. It wasn’t like they wanted answers to their questions. The two just wanted to ask things and to pretend like it mattered. From this, Frank had learned to let them do what they pleased.
Suddenly, Frank’s mind was brought back with a snap. A memory had suddenly pushed itself to the surface of the quicksand of Frank’s brain. In it, it was spring in Jersey. The sun was weak, watered-down, and soft. It was back when Frank had still been young enough to go to the park, and his parents had cared enough to walk with him there. The park was completely wooden, and full of twisting tunnels that Frank liked to hide in.
The day of the memory, Frank’s heart had been so light. He remembered looking up through the slots of the wood, and how the sky was soft mint blue, with clouds of wispy smoke. It was one of those times when the world seemed to slow down, to cement itself into your mind. Frank had been so happy.
But then the park was torn down to make way for an outlet mall, and Frank’s parents began their spiral to the unhappy people before him now. Their faces were now lined bone deep with the stress of a love that had evaporated like the day in Frank’s memory. Nothing was the same.
Frank’s mouth was open to speak when it happened. His head rocked violently to the side, and the world shifted. At first, all he felt was the movement, but then the skin on his cheek began to sting.
“You pay attention to me when I’m speaking!” someone yelled.
Frank’s eyes refocused on reality, and onto his mother’s outstretched hand and his father’s open mouth. Frank’s brained cranked into gear.
His mom had slapped him. His father had just stood there. And now they were fighting with each other again. Neither of them cared as red spread like a rash across their only son’s face. Neither of them cared that once they’d loved Frank, had once taken him to the park, just to be sure he was okay. Or that they’d once gone to his school productions or taken him to buy his first guitar. Neither of them cared that they’d once held anything in their hearts other than hate.
The only person that cared was Frank. But he was done with that now.
Frank’s P.O.V
It was 1:30pm and Frank sat alone in a showing of Jurassic Park 3. The theater was empty save for an elderly couple, and Frank had positioned himself in the highest, darkest corner. There, he’d immediately lit up a cigarette, and began to wait out the couples’ patience with the smoke’s thick smell.
About 20 minutes into the film, the two got up and shot Frank an accusing look. He just flicked ash to the floor and stared back. He really didn’t care if they reported him. He’d been kicked out of enough places, and the IMAX in the middle of a school day wouldn’t be the worst of them.
As he chain smoked a pack, Frank’s throat slowly built up a burn and smoke clouded the small theater. With each exhale, he imagined the last year being erased. As usual, it only worked until the cigarette he was on ended, so he’d light up another.
The movie ended, and in a few minutes, school (where Frank should be) would get out. The bell would ring and the teens would swarm like ants from the hallways and outside into the sunshine.
Forever ago, Frank would’ve been with them. Forever ago, Frank and his best friend would laugh and shove their ways to their cars and spend the rest of the day fucking around together.
But everyone was gone now, and Frank was stuck here.
He left the theater, scrubbing his eyes furiously and ignoring the looks the theater employees shot him. In the parking lot, he found his beat-to-shit car, climbed in and sat motionless for a moment before starting it.
Frank’s work started in a couple hours, but he desperately needed the distraction. He’d spent his last twenty bucks to get into the movie, so he figured he might as well head over to the Walmart, where he was a cashier, and see if he could get an earlier shift.
Frank pulled into the superstore-parking lot and yanked on his scratchy Walmart- blue polo. He got out, kicked his door shut, and slouched inside.
Work took up most of Frank’s afternoons now. Typically by the time it was over, he’d come home around nine, exhausted and starving, and make himself a bowl of Lucky Charms. He’d then shuffle down the hall to his room and stay there for the rest of the night.
Tonight, though, was one of those nights when his parents decided to drag him into one of their everlasting fights. It seemed like they never even drew a breath between conflicts, and neither of them had a second thought about using Frank as a firing target for their insults and hate.
Frank had walked into his house, still in his work clothes, and had immediately been smacked in the face by the screaming going on further down the hall. His mother was literally screeching at Frank’s father, who was managing to growl in a few words edge-wise.
Frank decided to skip dinner and go straight to his room, but when he walked into the light of the family room, his parents caught sight of him.
Frank’s mom descended. “Frank, what the fuck! Your school called again and said you skipped. This is the third fucking time in the last week!”
She had crossed the room and was glaring up at him menacingly, her index finger was stabbing repeatedly into Frank’s chest. He remained quiet.
Their looks were like acid on his skin, and Frank felt defeat fill his bones. There was no escaping.
He stood still as both his mother and Frank Sr. set on him for skipping. It seemed like the only time they got along was when they were mad, so Frank let his mind wander as the yelling continued. It wasn’t like they wanted answers to their questions. The two just wanted to ask things and to pretend like it mattered. From this, Frank had learned to let them do what they pleased.
Suddenly, Frank’s mind was brought back with a snap. A memory had suddenly pushed itself to the surface of the quicksand of Frank’s brain. In it, it was spring in Jersey. The sun was weak, watered-down, and soft. It was back when Frank had still been young enough to go to the park, and his parents had cared enough to walk with him there. The park was completely wooden, and full of twisting tunnels that Frank liked to hide in.
The day of the memory, Frank’s heart had been so light. He remembered looking up through the slots of the wood, and how the sky was soft mint blue, with clouds of wispy smoke. It was one of those times when the world seemed to slow down, to cement itself into your mind. Frank had been so happy.
But then the park was torn down to make way for an outlet mall, and Frank’s parents began their spiral to the unhappy people before him now. Their faces were now lined bone deep with the stress of a love that had evaporated like the day in Frank’s memory. Nothing was the same.
Frank’s mouth was open to speak when it happened. His head rocked violently to the side, and the world shifted. At first, all he felt was the movement, but then the skin on his cheek began to sting.
“You pay attention to me when I’m speaking!” someone yelled.
Frank’s eyes refocused on reality, and onto his mother’s outstretched hand and his father’s open mouth. Frank’s brained cranked into gear.
His mom had slapped him. His father had just stood there. And now they were fighting with each other again. Neither of them cared as red spread like a rash across their only son’s face. Neither of them cared that once they’d loved Frank, had once taken him to the park, just to be sure he was okay. Or that they’d once gone to his school productions or taken him to buy his first guitar. Neither of them cared that they’d once held anything in their hearts other than hate.
The only person that cared was Frank. But he was done with that now.