Last Chance

This time when Frank moved toward the door, no one stopped him. He thought about going back out to his car, but decided he wasn’t quiet ready to freeze his ass off, so he went to his bedroom, quietly and stiffly. Something big was itching beneath his skin now. Frank knew he needed to get somewhere else, and soon.

Finally, the worn wood of his door was securely in its frame, and Frank let himself actually feel what had happened. His hands began shaking first, and then in the dark of the room he fell apart. He curled into himself, back still to the door, and it felt like his body was being choked by the surrounding dark.

Dry sobs caught in his lungs, making them feel like they might collapse, and he wished they would. He felt too big for his skin, like he was milliseconds away from exploding and the anger, disbelief and humiliation of the last hour were all mixing in his stomach, creating poison in the shadows of his room.

This was the first time Frank’s parents had put their hands on him. This was a new milestone for the shit Frank knew would be coming. Lines would blur and soon it’d be the normal for his skin to sting and his body to shake in fear.

That knowledge was what had been itching under his skin. It was the something big and unstoppable.

With that realization, Frank knew what he needed to do. He needed desperately to get out of this house once and for all.

Frank stood suddenly, pulling his polo off and using it to wipe at his swelling face. He locked his door next, and stumbled through the dark to his messy bed. He tugged his phone from his work pants, then shucked them off so that he lay in the moonlight in just a ratty t-shirt and his boxers.

His hands shook again as he dialed, and then as he brought the phone up to his now- bruising cheek. He’d called this number a thousand times in the last year, so often he dreamt of the numbers in it.

Frank had never gotten an answer the entire time, but that didn’t stop him from calling and hoping.

The tinny ring filled Frank’s head, and the boy held his breath.

A click. But not the one Frank wanted.

“Hey, you’ve reached Mikeyway. I’m not here right now, so leave a message.” There was a beep and then silence.

Frank’s entire body clenched in pain at his best friend’s voice, and a few tears snuck their way out of the corner of his eyes. It was the same voice mail as it’d always been, the same bored tone, but it was Mikey- through and through.

The fact that the mailbox wasn’t full was probably the only thing that kept Frank’s heart beating these days. It meant Mikey was alive, and Mikey was maybe- hopefully- hearing the thousands of messages Frank had left him. It meant Mikey might hear this one, too.

“It-It’s Frank,” His voice cracked. He paused to compose himself, then continued. “Mikey, I- I don’t know what to do. Things here have gotten worse than ever. I can’t stay here, anymore. It feels like I’m either going to explode or disappear completely. I wish you’d never left. Or at least without me.” Why’d you do that? Frank almost wanted to scream. But he didn’t. He was running out of time as it was. “Would you- would you please help me?” he finished.

The phone cut the message then, and Frank dropped the stupid thing to the floor, rolled back into himself under the covers and remained like that, motionless, until sleep crept up and swallowed him.

It was September of Frank’s senior year. Soon it would be year since Mikey had run away, leaving behind Frank feeling abandoned, hurt, and completely empty.

------------

It was exactly 12:03 when Frank’s phone rang. In his state of sleep, Frank mumbled and flailed around in his sheets for a moment before he remembered where his cell was. He was confused as to why someone would be calling this late, and was half-tempted to let his voicemail pick up.

Suddenly though, Frank realized what the ringing meant and all the sleep flew from his body. Frank’s heart was kicked up to his throat, and he didn’t hesitate before throwing himself out of bed to the floor. He ended up on his hands and knees in the dark, fumbling around until he found the buzzing metal object.

The screen was blinding in the darkness, but Frank could make out an unknown number.

Disappointment filled Frank’s chest like a balloon. It wasn’t Mikey calling, just a random number, probably just a misdial.

Frank wanted to cry suddenly. The realization that Mikey might never call back pricked behind his eyes and hung on his heart like a weight. Mikey was gone, as he’d been since last fall. Something horrible had probably happened to Frank’s gangly best friend. A thousand scenarios flicked through Frank’s head as they always did, filled with kidnapers and car wrecks and homelessness.

Mikey had been everything to Frank. He’d been his best friend and his comfort, his only saving grace. They’d met when they’d been thirteen. Frank had just switched schools because his grandparents couldn’t afford to pay his private Catholic school tuition anymore. Mikey had been the odd, tall boy that sat in the back of Frank’s classes. He’d just sit motionless and watch flies throw themselves at windows or dust motes float to the ground, and he’d grown on Frank quickly. Honestly, he was Frank’s opposite, but they fit like puzzle pieces.

Which is why it had felt like Frank had been torn in two when Mikey had left.

Frank jumped from his memories when his phone gave a sharp buzz in his hand. The screen flashed “One Missed Call. One Voicemail”, then went dark. Frank dropped the phone back to the ground. It felt like all of his adrenaline had been drained from his body, and tiredness was thick in his bones. Frank didn’t even have the energy to climb back into bed, so he just tugged one of his blankets down and curled up by the discarded cellphone. He was asleep in a matter of minutes, dreams of a dead Mikey and bruised cheeks plaguing his mind through the night.