The Enigma’s Anomaly

Who fucking faints? What kind of loser fucking faints? I’m not some delicate lady back in the eighteen hundreds whose corset is too tight! I shouldn’t faint. What kind of a loser faints anymore? I fucking swooned, which is aggravating.

I’d love to say I don’t do an epic face plant, but the truth is that I don’t know. I’m totally dead on my feet, I teeter a little bit and then I’m having a dream about Captain Malcolm Reynolds.

It takes me a little more than five minutes to convince myself to wake up, but I fucking need to. Hopefully my mind was playing tricks on me, but I’m no idiot. That douchebag of an assassin is a cop. A fucking cop? The next thing you’re about to tell me is that Gerard’s would-be murderer is a priest or a nun.

Like fucking hell, we’re dealing with cops? Cops. As in law enforcement? As in a person who could arrest me just because they don’t like my face? I mean obviously they’d have to let me go if they didn’t have any other reason besides my face, but a cop could make my life mildly inconvenient.

I remind myself again to wake up, but sleeping is nicer. It’s warmer, and I don’t have to think as hard about it. It is really warm and it smells like Gerard’s shampoo. Oh shit that is Gerard’s shampoo.

By the time I realize that I’ve inadvertently started to wake myself up, it’s too late. I’m conscious and my back hurts a little bit because this angle isn’t pleasant. I open one eye and then two. It’s really blurry, but I’m pretty sure that I’m sitting up on something painful. Once I blink away the grogginess from my eyes I see that it’s a wooden bench pressed against the wall. I’m half leaning against the bench and half leaning against Gerard with his arm around me, and my head was probably tucked under his own head a second ago.

“Please tell me I did not actually faint,” I say.

“No, you did. That really happened.”

I sigh, “That’s fucking degrading.”

“What did you mean about that cop, Frankie?” Gerard asks, getting straight to the point. I don’t really blame him, I did make a pretty cavalier accusation.

“That cop was one of the kidnappers. Unless he has an evil twin and we’re apart of parallel dimension where Soap Opera’s actually happen, which I highly doubt, then that guy was there in that car and that warehouse when I was kidnapped.”

I look around a little more to see that we’re still in the police station. People are walking around and no one looks twice at me or Gerard. I don’t see the lady cop who was talking to us, but I also don’t see mister-sadist man. I don’t know if I should be happy about that or sad. For one thing, I fainted which probably made a scene, and with my luck, he saw me. If he saw me then he’ll realize that I’m not dead. There’s an even bigger number of reasons why we shouldn’t have told the police then. On the off chance that mister-sadist man didn’t already know I was alive, he almost certainly does now. I guess I should be glad he’s not here now or I’d spend a night in lock up for attacking an officer. I’d be okay with that though. That bitch tried to kill me, it’s the least he deserves, and I could really fuck him up.

If he knows I’m alive though that means he’ll probably come after me again which I’m not too eager about. I don’t think I’m going to be able to escape death twice like that. They’ll have learned from their mistakes I’m sure.

“Frank,” Gerard says and I feel him rest his forehead on my shoulder, but I don’t turn to look at him, “do you realize how that sounds?”

“I realize how it sounds! I sound like I’m mental, but I am not making this shit up!” I say, with a mixture of anger and desperation.

“I’m not saying I don’t believe you, because I do. If you say that that guy was there when you were taken then he was there, but do you realize that they’re not going to believe us? He’s a freaking cop!”

“I would swear on my own life that it was him though! They have to at least look into it don’t they? What did the other cop say? Did you say anything about it?”

“I thought it would be better to talk to you first,” Gerard says, “but if you want to tell her I wouldn’t argue. If that man hurt you then he needs to pay for it.”

I turn to look at Gerard and he looks so determined. Don’t want to get on his bad side, because he looks ready to punch something. Maybe he’d be okay with kissing something, or someone so I grab him. Not sure if I’m trying to calm him down or myself, but I don’t think the two are mutually exclusive so by the time I pull away I’m feeling a little better and Gerard still looks sexy as hell, but not necessarily angry. Though I have to admit that he was hot when he was mad.

“Where did he go then? Did he see me? Oh god, he saw me, didn’t he? What about talking to him, I wanted to talk to him! What was his name again?”

“Roland,” Gerard replies, “Officer Roland, and he left the office about a minute after you fainted.”

“What do you mean he left? He just up and left, like nothing? That’s messed up.”

“Well I couldn’t exactly stop him could I? ‘Hey you sir my friend who is out cold thinks you kidnapped him a few days ago would you mind turning yourself into one of the many people around you?’”

“Sounds stupid, doesn’t it?” I confirm after Gerard says that.

“Oh god, who’s going to believe me? Who in the hell is going to believe us? First you’re brother is sent to jail and now we look so desperate that we’re aiming the finger at a fucking cop? Motherfucking shit!”

“Well Frank, not so fast, what about the fingerprint thing? That’s something! We might at least get enough of a reaction if we try to explain what happened!”

“How about we leave the part out about Officer Roland until the very end then? That way our attention grabber isn’t ‘hey you have a dirty cop in your midst who likes chucking bodies in the ocean’ because that’s a little confrontational if you ask me,” I reply.

“Well you’re going to have to do it then because that’s exactly what I had planned on saying,” Gerard jokes, and I can’t stand how adorable he is.

He’s like a sex god trapped inside the mind of a gigantic nerd. He is a fucking dork though. I would love to see him at a nerd convention like comic con. He’d light up like a Christmas tree. Kid in a candy store wouldn’t even begin to describe it. He’d be so cute that the earth might implode. I’m going to have to make it a point to see that someday. Hopefully a day where Mikey is alive and Gerard’s killer is behind bars. At this point I don’t even know if I’d object to seeing his killer strapped to a table with a needle in his arm.

Whomever it is that’s trying to hurt Gerard he’ll be lucky if the cops find him first, because I would definitely fuck him up. Or her. If that note was written by someone else then it could easily be a boy or a girl, though I don’t think it’s a chick. Maybe I’m just too invested in the whole thing, but it feels like the mind of a man to me, but I’m not ruling anything out. Also what kind of a girl, unless she’s a lesbian, would want to ruin Gerard’s face? That would be a travesty in and of itself. No right-minded person would want to kill Gerard at all if they knew him. Sure he’s got his secrets, but I can’t find it in me to imagine that anything he’s done is that bad. He could think the same thing about me though, which is what’ll keep me on my feet right now.

A few minutes later we call over the cop and ask to have a word with her about the connection between my kidnapping and Gerard’s killer.

I’d love to say that I find myself talking to her an hour later and she’s keeping an open mind, but she actually gave us both this stone cold look and left us sitting in an empty room feeling hopeless.

I’d also like to say that two hours later we’d left by now, but we haven’t. We’re still sitting in this little room, waiting. It’s been so long since anyone came in to talk to us that I wonder if we’re mean to leave, but she told us not to before she left an hour ago.

Three hours later and we’ve had a five minute conversation with some fidgety little cop who looks new.

Three turn into four and I’m getting hungry and tired. The only thing there is to do is talk to each other, but it’s really hard to have a normal conversation when there’s the possibility of someone listening in.

I think it’s about eight at night and some number of hours later, when we’re finally given permission to leave. Every cop in the entire room when we leave is glaring at us, and I can’t say that I blame them. We did just accuse their coworker of attempted murder, and that’s not exactly something people like hearing. Oh god I’m being murdered a million times a minute in their heads I can just tell. One of them wants me mauled by bears and someone wants me to be burned alive.

Despite how angry we seem to have made this department of cops, I don’t regret coming clean about it. This Officer Roland character tried to have me killed, and that is by no means okay.

Just as we’re leaving the floor someone stops us and my heart sinks. We were finally leaving! I wanted to leave! Just go, and be away from the scary cops for a little while. God must hate me.

An unfamiliar officer catches us just as we’re on our way out and he says a string of words that seem completely unreal. Absolutely freaking fairytale, but still I follow his mouth with my eyes and it’s not in my head. He actually says that.

The officer looks at us directly and says, “Officer Roland is dead. He’s been murdered.”