Chapter 9: Caution: Joy May Kill

 

I stared glumly at the minute hand on the clock desperately waiting for it to move. I swear to God that it hasn’t moved in over five minutes. You know what? I bet Markman took the fucking batteries out to ensure the hands on the clock don’t move at all. I bet I am doomed to sit here with these morons in this group session forever.

A frustrated sigh escaped my lips and attracted a disapproving look from Markman. I resisted the urge to glower at her. Today was not the day for me to irritate her or to be in her bad books. You see, today was the day I actually needed something from this conniving woman. It was something very important and something only she could help me get. It would not help me in the slightest to annoy her before I got a chance to discuss it with her. Well actually, considering I’m still refraining from speaking, it won’t be much of a discussion.

I spent an hour last night writing down what I wanted on a page of my sketch book to hand to her. I tried to be as polite and as thorough as possible in my request. I even drew a picture of what I wanted so there would be no chance of her getting it wrong. It didn’t mean that I wasn’t worried that she would throw the paper back in my face. I think I’ve more than earnt such a reaction. I know I’m no angel. I know how much I exasperate Markman. That’s why I’m going to go out my way to be nice and helpful to her today. I can be quite charming when I put in an effort.

The rest of the group therapy session dragged by so slow I’m sure time was going backwards. After a while I found myself avoiding looking at the clock purely because of the annoyance it was causing me. However, I stuck to my intention of not pissing off Markman and didn’t sigh or make any noises to express my boredom for the rest of the session. I even pretended to listen intently to Ray as he informed us all that, “Change is coming!” I lingered on this message for a while, wondering if he was referring to my forthcoming change in character towards Markman. I didn’t linger on this for too long because I quickly came to my senses about Ray’s sanity. Or rather, his lack of sanity.

Frank sat next to me today. His denim-clad leg was exactly twelve and a half centimetres from my leg, which was also clad in cheap denim. He was idly picking at a hole in his jeans which confirmed my suspicions that he was bored also. I knew exactly how he felt. It felt good for me though. For so long I’ve been stuck in this hell-hole continuously surrounded by crazy people. It felt good to finally have someone who wasn’t crazy that I could relate to. Frank wasn’t crazy, he was just…sad. I’m pretty sure you can cure sadness though. Well, actually, if you can’t cure sadness then I would simply find another way to make him better. I was determined to fix him. I didn’t care what Jasper said. Jasper was wrong.

Okay, yes, so what if I don’t actually know how I’m going to fix him? I bet a plumber doesn’t know how he’s going to fix a leaking sink until he’s seen the whole picture and examined all the possible variables. I was just biding my time and waiting until Frank revealed the full picture of himself to me. And by full picture I’m referring to his thoughts and feelings, not his body. Gosh, that was awkward. I can’t believe I’d forgotten about the whole shower incident.

Anyway, my point is that even though I didn’t know how I was going to fix him, I was still confident in my ability to do it.

In this morning’s group therapy session I wasn’t surprised that Frank elected to speak. I know he often didn’t feel comfortable speaking to the whole group but for some reason, at every session, he said something. Even if it was just a sentence on how he was feeling, he always found something to say. I suspected that he wanted Markman to report back to his parents that he was cooperating and trying to get better so they would think about letting him come home. I didn’t want Frank to go home. But I wouldn’t try to stop him if he did.

“Are you excited about Christmas?” Markman asked Frank. Although Frank had said his obligatory sentence on how he felt “okay,” Markman was prompting him about the upcoming consumer holiday.

Frank inhaled and exhaled before he spoke. He nodded about four times but no smile spread across his face as it usually did when he was genuinely excited about something. “Yeah. I guess.”

Markman leant forward. “Are you upset about spending Christmas away from your family and loved ones, Frank?”

Markman must be able to read my mind because that is exactly what I had been thinking when I saw the forlorn look on Frank’s face. Of course he’s not excited about spending Christmas in this nut house. Who would be excited? It’s as cold as fuck and the snow is disgusting and dirty. And I’m sure that the heaters will fail again this year, like they tend to do every year around this time. If they fail again I swear I am getting first pick at blankets. Ray can go fuck himself if he thinks he can get my blankets this year.

Frank shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so,” he replied. He broke Markman’s eye contact and resumed picking at the hole in his jeans. I stared absently at his little fingers and their painfully gnawed fingernails for a while as he plucked and unravelled the blue thread.

“Gerard?”

I addressed Markman politely with my eyes, determined not to be rude or inconsiderate. She looked a little surprised for a split second as I usually ignored her during these sessions. But not today. Today I am going to be good.

“Have you got anything you would like to share with us?” she enquired.

I suddenly became aware that everybody was looking at me again. I feel I should reiterate that my participation in these sessions often nil, so when I did choose to partake in said session, the other individuals became very interested. I am, after all, an exceedingly interesting guy.

I raised a finger to request patience. Then I flipped open my sketch book and wrote down a reply. When I finished writing out my carefully planned response, I began to pick it up to hand to Markman.

“I’ll read it out, if you want?” Frank offered, the interest alight on his face.

I nodded and handed it to him. He read it over quickly first and I felt my heart leap as he smiled in amusement.

“Gerard thinks,” he began, “that there is a lack of Christmas spirit this year.”

It was true, of course. Anyone could see that. There was more life in a Nursing Home than there was in here. However, the fact that I cared that there was no Christmas Spirit was a lie. I seriously could not give a flying fuck about Christmas or anything to do with it. Except if Frank cared….then I would care.

Markman was nodding enthusiastically. “Does anyone else feel this way?” She threw the question out to the group. I was expecting the usual murmurs of agreement but was surprised at how vocal the response was.

There was a chorus of “yeah” and “he’s right”. Fuck, my plan was backfiring. I had just been trying to make it look like I was participating and not being ‘difficult’. I didn’t actually want this to go anywhere.

I cringed down into my seat as Markman began asking for suggestions of ways to increase the Christmas Spirit. Silence settled for a brief moment as people began to ponder. Ray, of course, had to speak first.

“We should put on a Christmas play!” he exclaimed.

I almost threw up in my mouth.

Frank looked sideways at me and laughed. “You brought this on yourself,” he told me. I shook my head unhappily and he understood that I hadn’t meant for it to go this far. Frank’s pretty intuitive. I think he can read my mind too. Oh fuck, I hope he can’t. The poor kid would freak out if he read my thoughts.

Ray’s suggestion was shot down because there wasn’t enough time to organise anything before Christmas. I think I would have shot myself if his idea had gone ahead. There were suggestions for talent shows, and choir performances and all sorts of activities I considered torture. Adam suggested we make Christmas Wreaths out of tree branches. That idea seemed to be popular for a while until Bob spoke up.

“Do you know how much it hurts a tree branch to be severed from its trunk?” he spluttered heatedly.

The wreaths idea got dismissed very quickly after that. I think it was partly because Bob looked so furious at the suggestion that no one dared to challenge him.

The group was leaning more and more toward a torture referred to as Christmas Dress Up. Markman had suggested an activity that involves groups where you make Christmas outfits. In groups of three you have to make costumes of a Christmas tree, a Santa and a giant gift using only different coloured craft paper, glue, scissors and tape.

I thought the idea was fucking ridiculous but everyone else seemed to be rather enthused at the idea. They got even more excited when Markman suggested prizes for the best costumes. This was turning into a fucking disaster. From now on I am never participating at this session. It only ever leads to trouble. I reclaimed my sketch book from Frank’s clenched hands and began to write down another idea. I hadn’t wanted to bring this idea up but anything was better than Christmas Dress Ups. Frank leant over to see what I was writing.

“Secret Santa,” he announced relieved. “That’s a good idea!” He seemed very surprised and I was offended.

“Presents!” Ray said excited.

“That is a good idea.” Markman reaffirmed what Frank had said. “Who votes we do a Secret Santa?”

The relief radiating from me and Frank alone was so powerful it was almost tangible. I knew he had been horrified at the suggestions of dressing up and having to be touched. And maybe, I’m not sure though, but I think he was scared about the whole group work suggestion. I’d noticed lately that I seemed to be the only person Frank liked to be around.

Me. Yeah I know, fucking crazy kid, eh?

I thought Secret Santa was a good idea. All you had to do was draw a person’s name out of a hat and then give that person a present. Then, you would receive a gift from whoever drew your name out of the hat. Easy as pie, and not personal at all.

In my distress at the absurdity of the other’s suggestions, time seemed to have passed very quickly. A quick glance at the clock confirmed that we had gone ten minutes overtime. Although I was remarkably tempted to sprint out of the room, I remembered my plan to be considerate and cooperative towards Markman. I forced myself to stay seated and wait until we were dismissed. It took another five minutes for Markman to end the session which she only did because visiting hours had commenced. She sent everyone off promising to organise a draw for the Secret Santa by the end of the day.

Frank stood and began to walk out but I lingered behind. I had originally planned to exit immediately but I realised another way in which I could get into Markman’s good books. She was kneeling on the ground, shuffling some papers around with her back to me. I glanced around and noticed that everyone had departed and left their chairs in the circle. This was strange because at the beginning of each session we were required to make the circle in the first place. Therefore, my excellent skills of deduction told me that at the end of each session Markman must restack all the chairs and clear the room. It also appeared that no one ever stayed behind to help her.

I reached for the back of my chair and stacked it on top of Frank’s chair. Then I stacked Ray’s, Adam’s, Bob’s, Bert’s, Lisa’s and Hayley’s chairs on top of Frank’s. Once, I deemed this stack too precarious to have any more on it I began another. Soon I had made three stacks of chairs. Two of the stacks had eight chairs in them, and the third had only four. I considered moving some chairs over to make them even but decided against the effort. I pretended to not be surprised by the weight of the first stack of chairs as I began to drag them over to the wall where they would be out of the way. I turned around to walk back to the remaining two stacks and noticed Frank and Markman staring at me.

Why does everyone always get so shocked when I act out of character? It was rather hurtful to see their shocked faces as I did something nice and considerate. Was it really that mind-blowing for me to do something nice? I proceeded to ignore them both and drag the remaining two stacks over to the wall.

What shocked me about this whole situation that just as I am capable of being considerate, Markman is capable of being kind.

“Thank you, Gerard,” she said as I walked passed her to exit the room.

I nodded in acknowledgement at her, hoping that she took my nod to mean ‘you’re welcome’.

Frank and I walked toward the Rec room. Neither of us ever had any visitors so visiting hours was a time we spent together. We sat down next to each other on one of the sofas with the broken seat that constantly collapsed. I didn’t mind that the seat was broken. The lack of support on the seat meant Frank and I were often pressed together as heavy objects tended to sink to the middle. He sat on his end of the seat and wrapped one arm over the side to prevent himself from sliding into the middle. I didn’t show my disappointment at his decision to hold on and sat down on my usual end.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked.

I feigned hurt, clutching my hand to my chest. He just smiled his coy little smile at my antics and said, “Well?”

I wrote down on my sketch book: ‘I’m trying to get into Markman’s good books.’

“I noticed,” he confirmed.

‘You think it worked?’ I penned.

“Yeah, I think so. The whole Christmas Spirit thing went well. She looked really pleased and happy with you.”

I chuckled and wrote: ‘That’s a change.’

Frank didn’t return my book straight away after he read what I had written. “Why though, Gerard? What do you want?”

It was a secret. I couldn’t tell Frank what I wanted and why I needed to be in Markman’s good books to be able to get it. It wasn’t like I never kept secrets from Frank before. I had a whole host of secrets locked away in my head. This, however, was a special secret. Although the safety of the world didn’t depend on it, I knew that it was special. To me, anyway. Frank offered me the book back suddenly, as though he realised that I needed it to answer his question. I waved it away and Frank sighed. He knew he wasn’t going to get an answer from me. Not today.

Frank moved his attention from me to the television. I let my eyes linger on his beautiful face for a moment before checking out the TV as well. It was set to a commercial television station and advertisements were flashing across the screen. Did you know that at Omer’s Party Supplies you could get a 6 foot, 650 tip synthetic Christmas Tree for only $35?! Goodness, the things you learn when you watch television. The commercial for Omer’s Party Supplies ended and another immediately begun. There was a young girl sitting on the streets, wearing nothing but a dress and a thin cardigan. I guessed the ad was for some charity and I was right.

“Please donate today to The President’s Christmas Appeal. Help get kids off the streets this Christmas.” The sombre male voice of an announcer filled the room. Then, another man, whom I assumed was the actual President behind the appeal stepped onscreen. He stared imploringly down the camera. When he spoke I suddenly felt very ill. Something about his voice was exceptionally familiar. Even though I don’t remember ever seeing this man before in my life I remembered him from somewhere.

“Do you know that man?” I scribbled the words down onto my book so fast they were a mess.

Frank read it and frowned. “That’s the President of the United States, Gerard,” he told me as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The President was now reeling off some number to call where people could pledge money to the cause but I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. He was in my head and I knew him from somewhere. It wasn’t just that he was the President. It was something else.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Zach enter the room. He glanced over at the television for a very long second as the President asked for donations. Then, something seemed to click. I didn’t understand what the tragedy was but his face changed almost immediately. His face whipped to me for a terrified second then he literally lunged across the short distance to the television, his hand outstretched to hit the power button. The commercial was almost finished and the only visual was a black screen and some writing, accompanied by a voice over.

All I heard was: “Authorised by the Democratic Party, Washington D.C. Spoken by Donald –.”

Zach had managed to hit the power button before the voiceover man had finished his spiel. Frank and I both stared in utter bewilderment at Zach, who was in turn staring at me absolutely terrified. Frank then looked at me seeking enlightenment. He didn’t know what I had done either.

I shrugged at Zach but he just swallowed nervously, his eyes going all jittery. I began to get a little defensive. It wasn’t my fault that the television was set to that channel. Don’t you dare blame me! Why are you looking at me? I didn’t change the channel! Why are you looking at me?!

“Dr. Markman is waiting for you now, Gerard,” Zach managed to say eventually.

I frowned at him as I walked out of the room, confused. What was so bad that he had to turn the TV off? It was just a commercial for some Christmas Charity Appeal. There are hundreds of them on at this time of year. I hoped Frank would be able to find out what was going on whilst I was gone, because now I was intrigued.

I was polite and knocked on Markman’s door instead of barging in like I usually did. She called me in and the first thing I noticed was the way she looked at me as I entered. She was holding her blackberry in her hand and I knew straight away that Zach had informed her about the whole TV incident. My heart sunk. I hope I wasn’t going to get into trouble. The day I actually went out of my way to be good may be the day I get into trouble.

However, Markman didn’t mention it at all and I wasn’t going to bring it up either. I sat down in one of her chairs and refrained from putting my shoes on her furniture. Markman surveyed me as she always did. Her eyes lingered on the scar that split my forehead in half and the guilty, regretful look flashed through her eyes as it always did when she saw it. I wasn’t worried; I knew the scar would fade eventually. That plastic surgeon had actually done a remarkable job and the only reason you could see anything at the moment was because it was still healing. I would ask Markman one day why she felt so guilty about my head. It wasn’t like she had anything to do with it.

“It pleased me to see you participating today,” Markman told me.

Ha, my plan was working. I nodded.

“And thank you for stacking the chairs.”

I nodded again and caught myself just before I smiled at her.

“Why the sudden change?”

I knew she was a smart cookie. She knew that my deeds were out of character so something was up. This conversation was going exactly like I had planned it in my head.

I opened my sketch book and pulled out the first piece of paper I had written last night. All I had written on this piece was: ‘I need something.’

Markman accepted the paper and I noticed her painted nails. She hadn’t painted her nails in months. It wasn’t strange as such, just…..different. I was so busy looking at her nails I missed her expression as she read my sentence. This threw my plan out the window. The next piece of paper I gave her depended on her facial expression. How would I know what piece of paper to give her if I missed seeing her expression?

Fuck me and fuck her nails.

“What sort of something?” she inquired.

I pulled my pencil and answered her question: ‘A favour.’

“What sort of favour?”

I sighed and printed: ‘I need you to get something for me.’ I was just about to hand it over when I hastily remembered to add a please onto the end. ‘Please.’

I thought back for a moment and tried to remember if I had ever asked her for anything. I didn’t recall ever asking Markman for anything. She owed me this one.

“Okay,” she said.

I blinked at her. Did she just say okay? Did she say yes? I think I’m dreaming.

“But….”

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. I had the pencil between my teeth and bit down on it crossly. Of course there had to be a “but”. She couldn’t just say yes, could she? I frowned at her.

“I will do my best to get what you want, Gerard,” she said calmly, “but you need to do something for me in return. Okay?”

I grunted refusing to commit. I don’t think I wanted to enter into a deal with this lady. Who knows what she was going to get me to do in return. I folded my arms angrily and without thinking I tucked my feet up on her furniture. She didn’t even bat an eyelid. She just kept staring at me whilst I warred internally over my dilemma.

I really, really wanted to say yes. You see the thing that I needed Markman to get for me was a Christmas present for Frank. I had missed his birthday so I was making an extra special effort for Christmas this year. I knew it would be his first Christmas away from his family so I wanted to make it suck a little less.

I stared at a framed painting on the wall for a long time as I thought up my answer. I come into this office all the time but I don’t think I’ve ever looked at this painting properly. It was really good, I thought. There was a highly defined figure in the middle of the frame. The expression of his face was absolute terror. He was standing in a massive room with white walls that was completely empty. The walls and floors seemed to stretch on forever. Compared to the rest of the room he was tiny. Along one wall there was a door that was partially open. Just above the door handle on the partially open door there were four finger curled around the frame. That’s all you could see. Just four fingers. You couldn’t see the person or the monster that belonged to the fingers, so I could only imagine what was on the other end. It frightened me because it reminded me very vividly of them. I could imagine myself standing in this massive white room coming to the terrifying realisation that they were coming in and I had no way to get out. I stood up and walked over to the painting to get a better look. My stomach churned as I realised that all around the frame of the window in the painting there were more fingers. On the window frame and sill alone I counted four more sets of fingers curled over the wood.

I turned away suddenly, my heart pounding and sweat dripping down my back. I forced myself to take a few deep breaths. I was safe as long as I didn’t open my mouth like the boy in the frame. He was standing in the middle of the room with his mouth open. I knew he had broken his silence and they had found him. Whoever painted this had an uncanny way of getting inside my head. I pointed at it and Markman realised I was asking who the artist was.

She seemed to pause for a moment as she tossed the name around in her head. “The boy who painted that was a very dear patient and friend of mine. He suffered from schizophrenia.”

I noticed that Markman had said this boy “was” a patient so I asked Markman where this patient was now. I wondered if maybe he had been cured. Or perhaps they had gotten to him. What a terrifying thought.

Markman just gazed sadly at me and didn’t answer my question. I swallowed awkwardly. I guessed he must’ve died after all.

While Markman was reminiscing I took the opportunity to find my idea for Frank’s present that I had drawn and described in detail last night. Before I handed it over I wrote on the paper: ‘What do you want in return?’

Markman opened her desk drawer and pulled out an egg timer and set it down on the desk. It was white and about the size of the palm of my hand. It had large numbers all around the edges that went all the way up to sixty. “My only request is that from now on you have to stay in my office for our sessions for a minimum of forty minutes.” Markman glanced at her watch and twisted the timer so that the little black line pointed to the twenty. “You have been here this afternoon for twenty minutes already. So I’m setting it to the remaining twenty minutes.”

Jeez this woman has got me all figured out. The last month or so, if I bothered turning up to these sessions at all, I tended to only remain in the room for about five minutes. I had better things to do than sit and listen to Markman preach and beg and plead and lecture and shout and scold and talk. I guess, though, it could’ve been worse. She could’ve put me on kitchen duty or something. I think I can survive forty minutes. The egg timer was a good idea too. That way I can keep an eye on the time and count down the minutes.

I nodded my consent to our deal and Markman looked pleased. I finally surrendered my important piece of paper to her. I had written all about how I felt guilty about missing Frank’s birthday and how I wanted to make it up to him by getting him a Christmas Present. I acknowledged that I understood that usually for gifts in this place we exchanged handmade cards and art projects but I wanted something more for Frank this time.

It wasn’t anything big or expensive. I thought it was thoughtful, if anything. I didn’t think that Markman would understand but that wasn’t important. I knew it would mean a lot to Frank.

Markman finished reading my letter and she was now examining my sketch. Yeah, I’d actually used a page of my sketch book to sketch something on!

“I think this is a fabulous idea.”

Did I hear her right?

“This drawing is very good too. I’ll take this home with me tonight and give it to my son. He’ll know where to find something like this, I’m sure.”

Hang on, Markman has a son?! Since when? This information was new and floored me. If she had a son, she must be married. If she’s married she must have a husband. Jesus. How can she be married and be having sex and making babies when I’m still not getting any?! Talk about unfair.

I brushed aside this new piece of information. I would dissect and digest it later. All I could focus on at the moment is refraining from hugging Markman. I really didn’t think she would be so open and willing to help me. After all, I have been an arse to her over the past year or so. I grinned widely and wrote out a thank you for her to read.

“You’re welcome.”

I checked the timer. I had eleven minutes left in the session before I could go. I hummed the jingle to Omer’s Party Supplies in my head. It went a little like this: ‘Da da da daaaaa da daaaaa da ba bup da bup.’ It’s really catchy actually.

Markman pulled out a two pairs of scissors and few pieces of paper. She had the names of everyone printed onto the paper for the Secret Santa. Without being asked I picked up a piece of paper and began to cut the slips of paper out. I cut out Frank’s and was sorely tempted to accidentally ‘lose’ it but decided against it. I supposed I could allow someone else to get him a present. I was concentrating so hard on cutting along the lines that I got a fright when the egg timer went off with a “driiiing.”

I placed all my papers into the box and nodded goodbye to Markman. Frank met me down the hall. “Did you get in trouble?” he asked immediately.

I shook my head and grinned.

Frank looked relieved. “You know Zach rang Markman as soon as you left the room. It was weird.”

It was extremely weird. I prompted Frank to hear what else he had to say. Frank thought for a moment. “Well Zach told Markman that you had seen the Christmas Appeal Ad. Then she said something and he answered, ‘I don’t think so.’”

I thought for a long moment. I didn’t understand but I didn’t think I was going to crack the mystery when I was so hungry. I led the way to the cafeteria. Markman and Ben were standing on one side of the cafeteria and there was a small crowd mobbing them. I knew it was for the Secret Santa but I would worry about that later. Frank and I lined up and I collected a bowl of soup. I was pretty confident it was tomato, considering it was blood red but this place is known for its dodgy food. I grabbed three pieces of bread and waited for Frank as he did the same, except that he had selected Pumpkin soup.

We sat down at our table and began to eat as both of us were ravenous. And yeah, I’ve changed my mind. This wasn’t my table anymore. It was our table now. When Frank’s soft slurping noises stopped, I stopped as well. Then, without words or measured looks, we slid our bowls across the table towards each other. I liked tomato soup but I liked pumpkin just as much. I found out not long ago that Frank was in the same situation. We each finished half of our bowl before we swapped and finished each others. It was nice. I liked it. It was our thing.

After dinner Frank and I went over to draw our Secret Santa’s. Ben held the box up over Frank’s head so he couldn’t see. Frank went up on his tip-toes to draw a slip of paper. After a quick look over his shoulder at where I was standing he looked at the paper. He showed it to Markman who wrote it down. She took the paper off him and tossed it out. Then it was my turn. Although I saw Christmas as an excuse for retailers to mark up goods and for people to go stupid I couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit excited. I opened the slip of paper.

Adam.

What the fuck would Adam want for Christmas? I don’t even know anything about Adam except that he got abducted by aliens. I bit my lip as I thought. This was going to be tough. I liked challenges though. I liked working my brain. It’s a pretty fucking fantastic brain, you know?

Frank seemed really happy. He was almost bouncing as we made our way back to our table. “Who’d you get?” he asked suddenly. Then he changed his mind. “No, don’t tell me. I won’t tell you who I got. Don’t tell me, okay?”

I didn’t raise an eyebrow at him like I normally would have. I wanted him to be happy like this all the time.

 

***

 

Markman came through on her end of the deal to get Frank’s present for me. Every second day for two weeks I sat, as required, for forty minutes in Markman’s office for our sessions. Sometimes the time went really quick because we would be having interesting conversations or discussions. It was actually quite rare for me to be staring at the timer. There was always something for us to do. One day we played scrabble. Yeah, seriously. We played scrabble. She won, but only because I was stuck with the ‘x’ at the end and had to add ten points onto my score. That day I stayed in her office well past the ding of the timer.

Today was Christmas Eve and I was slightly anxious that Markman hadn’t updated me on Frank’s present for a while now. I hope she hadn’t forgotten. But at the end of the session she pulled out the box from under her desk. I leapt up out of seat and accepted it gratefully. I opened it carefully and looked inside. It was perfect. It was exactly what I wanted. Markman noted the pleased look on my face and she wiped her brow exaggeratedly and exhaled, “Phew! Glad I got that right.”

I nodded enthusiastically. I spent the rest of the session cross-legged on the floor carefully wrapping Frank’s gift. I picked green wrapping paper that had little candy canes all over it. As the timer dinged I stood, clutching the gift to my chest.

I wish I could speak right now because I wanted to say thank you to Markman. Instead I settled for mouthing the words at her which seemed to have just as much impact. I ran back to my room as fast as I could and hid the present under my bed under a stack of clothes so Frank wouldn’t see it.

It seemed the cooks were in a good mood today as well because they made roast chicken for dinner. Frank’s mood had gone down again, despite the fact that it was Christmas Eve. I gazed sadly at him as he picked at his vegetables. It hurt me to see him this sad. I wish I knew how to turn back time so I could go back to the day when he met those men. Unfortunately, the key to time travel isn’t one of my secrets.

That night I dreamt of Frank again. It was some crazy dream involving candy canes and chickens and how even despite the ridiculously funny image of them dancing together, Frank wouldn’t smile. My dream dissipated as I awoke due to something touching my left foot. In the darkness I blinked rapidly struggling to make out the dark figure on the end of my bed. Ludicrously, for a brief moment I thought it was Santa.

“Sorry.” Not Santa; Frank.

I sat up and Frank moved into the moonlight that gushed in through the window above my bed.

“It’s two am,” he informed me, reading my mind.

Merry Christmas! I wrote this down and handed it to Frank who smiled for the first time in a while. “Sorry I woke you,” he said.

I shook my head. I didn’t mind. I didn’t think it was fair that I was sleeping when Frank wasn’t. My heart leapt suddenly as I remembered Frank present under my bed. I grinned and wrote: ‘I have something for you.’

The glee on Frank’s face was identical to that of a child on Christmas morning faced who was with a tree surrounded by presents. “Me too!” he exclaimed and ran from my room.

I crawled under my bed to grab Frank’s present. It had gotten pushed to the very back corner and I couldn’t find it for a moment as the black shirt covering it hid it from view. I shimmied back out just as Frank was coming back.

“It’s nothing much,” he told me. “And I had to get Markman’s help.”

I stifled a laugh. Frank suddenly understood. “Is that why you were being so nice to Markman? So she would help you?”

I grinned in agreement and Frank grinned back.

“Open yours first,” Frank demanded and thrust the parcel at me. I knew better than to argue. I ripped the paper off and gasped. It was the paint set I’d seen on TV about a month ago. It had ten different colours and five different size brushes and it was perfect. I’d only been able to use pencils and crappy water colours before but now I had proper paint. I clutched it to my chest already imagining all the beautiful things I was going to paint. There was a tube of white paint as well so I could mix it with the red to make pink. My head ran over the million possible colours I could create and the billion pictures I could capture.

I smiled so big at Frank my cheeks ached. I held out Frank’s present and he accepted it, the moonlight bouncing off the candy canes on the wrapper. He ripped the paper of his gift faster than I had done on mine. He practically threw the lid off the box and delved his hands inside.

“Oh. Gerard.”

He took the gloves out of the box and slid them onto his hands. They fit perfectly as I knew they would. He held his hands under the moonlight and wiggled his fingers. The skeleton fingers on the back glowed in the dim light.

“I love them. I don’t think I’m going to take them off now. You know that right? Ever. I’ll just cut the fingers off in summer or something.”

I grinned and nodded. That was the plan.

Frank let the empty box slide of the bed as he crawled closer to me.

“Merry Christmas, Gerard.”

 

 

Chapter 10: ‘Tis The Season

I have a problem.

I didn’t get Adam anything for the Secret Santa.

I’m a terrible person. I actually feel quite bad about it.

I shared this information with Frank as we made our way to the enormous Christmas lunch they provided us with every year. They always go all out on Christmas; try to make us forget that we’re all crazy and locked up in a mental institution. Well, I’m not crazy, and neither is Frank… but everyone else is.

Frank sighed and put on his disappointed face. That’s when I felt really bad. Adam’s disappointment I could live with, but I always had a hard time coping with Frank’s.

I hate Christmas.

I picked up a plate and joined the queue for food. As I stood in line I went back over everything I knew about Adam in my head. He was male. He was 17. He had been abducted by aliens whilst swimming. Not much to work with. Ray was standing in front of me and I stared absently at a symmetrical black smudge on his denim jacket. It was located directly between where I’d imagine his shoulder blades to be. I suddenly wished I had been bothered to attend the craft sessions that had been held recently. If I had attended maybe I could’ve figured out what Adam liked. Then I might’ve had something to work with.

Ray stepped up to the counter and peeled the aluminium foil off a large platter of potatoes. As I watched him do that I swear a light bulb went off over my head with a resounding ding. It was exactly like what happens with the cartoon characters in Saturday morning cartoons.

After I got my lunch I rushed back to my table and whipped out my sketch book. I wrote down what I needed Frank to get for me. I would get it myself but to do that I needed to exercise my vocal cords. It would take a pretty big deal for me to speak again and risk discovery by Them, especially after what happened last time. Before Frank even had a chance to sit down I handed him the paper and removed his plate of food from his hand. He read the paper, gave me an annoyed and exasperated look and walked back over toward the food counter. I watched keenly as he leant over the counter and talked to one of the cafeteria ladies. I smacked the table gleefully as Frank obtained the roll of aluminium foil I’d requested and walked hastily back to me.

“Happy?” he asked, slapping the roll down hard into my outstretched palm. It was quite obvious that he was peeved at me.

I nodded seriously and relinquished his plate of food that I had been holding hostage. I predicted that in exactly two minutes Frank would forget about being peeved at me and become intrigued as to why I had held his lunch hostage. I scoped the room, looking for Adam and spotted him sitting over at one of the far tables. That was very beneficial because I had until the end of this session to craft his Christmas present and the further away he was, the better.

“What are you making?’ Frank asked two minutes later as I unrolled about a metre of the foil across my lap. I was using the table as a shield to prevent Adam’s eyes from seeing what I was doing.

It wasn’t going to be the best Secret Santa Christmas present in the world but I was hoping it would be enough for Adam. I had decided I was going to make Adam a hat. I think it was Ray who told me that alien technology couldn’t penetrate through foil hats, which subsequently meant alien species couldn’t read your mind.

Cool, huh? Well, you know, it would be, if it wasn’t a load of bullshit.

However, I didn’t have the luxury of being sceptical at the moment. It was my own fault for not getting Adam a present sooner. I fashioned the foil into a round bowl shape; the circumference of the bowl being what I’d estimated the circumference of Adam’s head to be. I made the hat deep as well, so Adam wouldn’t have to worry about it falling off.

The whole time I was doing this Frank was watching me with a faint look of incredulity on his face. Even as he ate he maintained the look perfectly. When I finished I held it up for Frank to see and he raised a doubtful eyebrow at my beautiful creation.

I scowled at him and tucked my creation under the table out of sight. I hoped at least someone else had forgotten to get a present as well, so mine wouldn’t look so bad.

I practically shoved the rest of my lunch down as everyone began to pack up to get ready for the gift exchange. I grabbed the foil hat and took my seat in the circle, ignoring the strange looks I was receiving. Frank sat next to me, like he always did, whether he was angry with me or not.

Ray sat on my other side and elbowed me in the arm. “Good idea!” he whispered, nodding to the hat I held in my hands.

Really? Ray thought it was a good idea? I stared at him, searching his face for any hint of mockery. But there was none. I suddenly felt a little bit better about my present.

I glanced around the circle. Bob had a beautiful blue flower resting across his lap. Ray was holding a messily wrapped package. Hayley was holding a single piece of paper to her chest, hiding the picture on the other side from prying eyes. The skeleton fingers on Frank’s gloves were wrapped protectively around his present.

The gift exchange went surprisingly well. Hayley started by giving her gift to Bert. Then Bert stood up and presented his gift to Bob. Bob then rose to his feet, the blue flower held in his hands as though it were an infant’s frail body. He walked over to Frank who, I noticed, had stopped breathing. Bob held out the flower to Frank, a joyful, but incredibly chaste look upon his face. Frank, who remembered to breathe again with a gasp, accepted the rose.

“Thank you, Bob,” he said softly.

I wondered where Bob had gotten the flower, but I didn’t particularly care. I knew that no matter how beautiful the flower was it would never be as beautiful as Frank. No matter how hard that flower tried, it would never compare. Not in my eyes anyway.

I wasn’t paying attention when Adam approached me with his present.

“I’m sorry, Gerard,” he muttered. “I didn’t know what to get you.” He held out the pencil to me as though it were burning his fingers. I plucked it from his jittery hands and inspected it. It was just a normal pencil, like the hundred others I had scattered around my room. Instead of showing my disappointment I dug inside my jacket pocket for an old pencil I’d stowed away in there last week. It was my favourite pencil but I had sharpened it down to an inch long stump. It was useless now, or so I’d thought. I showed Adam the pencil stump and tried to explain to him that I needed a new pencil so his gift was perfect. To prove the point, I tucked Adam’s pencil inside the binder of my sketch book. That cheered Adam up immensely and he went back to his seat smiling again. As I tucked the sketch book back inside my pocket I made sure no one saw the three other pencils I had stored away.

It was my turn then to give Adam his present. Embarrassed, I held out the hat to Adam and he took it, staring at in wonder. The only noise in the room came from the scrunching of the foil as Adam inspected the hat. It was kind of like he had no fucking idea what it was. It was a very awkward situation and I felt like an idiot. Everyone was staring at me and my stupid present. I swallowed the lump in my throat and dropped my eyes to the floor.

“Let me show you,” Ray exclaimed and leapt from his seat. He stood in front of Adam and took the hat from Adam’s hands. Ray set the hat down carefully, moulding the foil to the shape of Adam’s head so it fit better. “Now they can’t read your mind,” he informed Adam in such a matter-of-fact way I was taken aback.

Adam looked in childish amazement between me and Ray. “This will stop them?” he inquired incredulously as though he couldn’t believe his ears.

I shrugged and then nodded. Adam beamed at me like I had just given him a million dollars. It then took me 0.1 of a second to get back to my seat and out of the spotlight. What an ordeal. Thank God it’s another year until we have to do this again.

I hate Christmas.

My behaviour this session must’ve made up for my behaviour at lunch because after I sat down Frank’s gloved hand suddenly landed on my thigh. He let his hand linger for a brief second; long enough for me to realise it was intentional. Then, as quickly as it had made contact with my leg, his hand disappeared back into his own personal bubble. I turned to stare at Frank but he avoided my gaze and stared at his blue flower instead.

The Secret Santa was over and Frank and I returned to our table. We had just sat down when Ray announced his presence and requested to sit with us.

“Please?” he begged, as though sitting at our table would cure cancer or something.

Frank looked to me, and I looked to Ray. I didn’t really want to say “yes,” but I didn’t really have a good reason why I should say no. Frank was always pestering me to be nicer to Ray. Also, Ray was really helpful with Adam’s present. I did kinda owe him. So I sighed and nodded.

That was a bad idea. I knew I should’ve done what I wanted to do. Why? Because precisely two minutes after Ray sat down, Bob came up to the table and asked if he could join us. So, I had to say yes. I couldn’t exactly say no. Not after allowing Ray to sit at my table. I nodded again, extremely reluctantly, and Bob sat down.

I unleashed the gates of hell. I’m a fucking idiot. Once Adam and Bert saw that I’d allowed Bob and Ray to sit with us they rushed over to the table like bugs to a light. We had to reshuffle the seating arrangements but we eventually ended up with all six of us crammed onto a table that rarely saw more than two occupants. I was sitting in the middle on one bench with Frank next to me on one side and Ray on the other. Bob, Adam and Bert occupied the opposite bench.

Ray had grabbed the leftover foil and was making more hats. He’d obviously had more experience with the project than I had because his were ten times better. Adam and Bert were helping him eagerly with Bert even asking if they’d hide him from his ‘Godzilla.’ Frank was discussing his flower with Bob. That left me. I was talking to no one. No one was talking to me.

No one wanted to talk to me anymore.

Who am I kidding?

It wasn’t that no one wanted to talk to me anymore; it was that no one ever wanted to talk to me in the first place.

Except Markman. She always wanted to talk to me. But she doesn’t count. She gets paid to talk to me.

“Adam and Ray, your parents are here.” Zach interrupted my pity party. On Christmas Day a lot a parents turned up around mid-afternoon to visit their kids. Well, the parents that cared.

Adam and Ray scampered off to meet their parents excitedly, leaving just four at the table. That pleased me slightly. If this situation were an equation then it would be solved if we lost another fifty per cent of the variables.

Bob’s mother turned up ten minutes later and Bert chose very wisely to leave the table with Bob. I think he remembered our first meeting. The meeting where I’d told him that if he sat at my table ever again I would tell ‘Godzilla’ where he was. Gosh, I’m such an asshole.

Frank moved back to the other side of the table so we were facing each other again. I preferred to sit this way, purely because it was easier to see his perfect face. Frank had gone subdued again now that everyone had left and had taken to staring blankly out the window. It was snowing very lightly outside, I noticed, as I looked to where Frank was staring. I pulled my sketch book out of my pocket and slid Adam’s pencil out. My sketch book was everything to me. I think I would die if anything happened to it.

I flipped to a new page and pressed the pencil to the paper. I had decided on my next project. I was going to sketch Frank. And I was going to do it properly this time, as opposed to the terrible drawing I did of him the first time I saw him. I studied Frank for a few seconds then I dropped my eyes back down to transfer what I had seen onto the paper. My head bobbed up and down rapidly as I memorised a line and then sketched it on the paper. It took a while for Frank to realise what I was doing and when he did he was horrified.

“No, no. Don’t draw me. Please. I’m not a good model. I’m not good enough or beautiful enough. I’m too….”

I stared at Frank intensely. I knew the word that was poised on his pale lips. Ugly. He was going to call himself ugly. But I wasn’t going to let him. It wasn’t true. I wasn’t going to let him tell me such a blatant lie.

I eventually stared him down and the poisonous word disappeared from his lips. He went silent and folded his arms. Instead of protesting, he watched me work, a reproachful look upon his face. It made me ridiculously happy to be able to attempt to capture him on paper so I was indifferent to his lack of enthusiasm.

However, as the minutes passed and as my picture became more defined, Frank’s judgmental attitude seemed to disappear. He stared at my drawing, watching himself come to life on the paper. Every time I looked up at Frank he would look up too and we would make eye contact. Every time. I know it sounds really pathetic and stupid but every look we exchanged made my heart thump hard in my chest.

“Your parents are here, Frank.” Ben seemed to materialise next to the table and addressed Frank.

Frank’s head jerked up towards the glass sliding doors so fast I’m surprised he didn’t get whiplash. He half stood up in his seat to get a better look. My heart sunk so low in my body I felt sick. I knew I needed to leave Frank alone for a while. It had been a long time since he had seen his parents and I knew I would just cramp everyone’s style. I jotted down a note to Frank on a scrap of paper and packed my things up. I stood up and slid the piece of paper across to Frank. He scanned the note which informed him that I would give him some time alone with his parents. When Frank didn’t react to what I had written I began to walk past him toward my room. I had just passed Frank when he reflexively spun around and seized my arm, pulling me off-balance and back toward the table.

“Don’t leave. Please stay with me.” As soon as Frank finished speaking I nodded. The sick feeling in my stomach intensified as I realised that Frank wasn’t simply asking me to stay with him, he was literally begging me.

At Frank’s request I sat next to him. Already I was predicting the awkwardness. Frank’s parents wouldn’t want me here. I knew it. I swallowed several times and wondered what Markman was telling Frank’s parents. She had intercepted them before they had come into the cafeteria and they had all been talking for the past five minutes.

Now, I’d never met Frank’s parents before and I knew nothing about them. Despite this I still had an image in my head of what I expected they would be like. All I knew was that they were ignorant and that they were ashamed of what had happened to Frank. As they entered the cafeteria and began to cover the distance to the table I studied them. Frank’s mom was nothing like I had pictured her in my head. I’d been thinking of her as an upper-class snob who dressed in expensive designer clothes. But she wasn’t. She looked like a regular mom. She was wearing a plain blue dress and a thick cardigan over her shoulders. Frank’s father, on the other hand was wearing a suit. It was Christmas Day and he was visiting his son in a mental institution; his choice of attire confused me. He wasn’t going to a meeting or an expensive restaurant. Who was he looking to impress? Did he think that people wouldn’t judge him if he looked important? Or, I suspected, he was dressed up to distract people from that fact that he was so obviously ashamed to be here.

“Frank!” Frank’s mom, on the other hand, looked genuinely happy to be here. The authentic delight she took in seeing her son again seemed to rub off on Frank because he was smiling as he greeted her.

She stopped as she got to the table and held out her hands. That was when I realised what it was that Markman had told Frank’s parents. She told them about Frank’s strong aversion to being touched. Markman had advised them against trying to hug or embrace Frank in any way. Frank held out his gloved hands to his mother and she held them tightly in her own, smiling sadly at her son. When she let go, Frank turned to his father who extended a hand stiffly. Frank and his father shook hands uncomfortably, something I assumed they’d never done before.

Once Frank’s parents had sat down opposite Frank and I, Frank introduced me. “Mom. Dad,” he said, looking to each of them in turn. “This is my friend, Gerard.”

Frank’s mom greeted me warmly and I felt a surge of affection towards her. Frank’s father, however, was as cold as the thin layer of ice that covered all of the cafeteria windows. I decided I didn’t like him.

Frank began describing an average day for his parents, at his mother’s request. “Tell me everything,” she had said.

I pulled Adam’s pencil out of my pocket and turned it over absent-mindedly in my hands as Frank spoke. It was interesting listening to Frank describe a day. It made me wonder if he was actually residing in the same place as me.

Frank’s mom commented in all the right places. I considered her as she interacted with Frank. Her answers seemed a little too premeditated and cautious. She was afraid. Afraid of saying the wrong thing. I could almost smell her guilt. It wasn’t just the typical guilt of a mother who’d had her son confined to a mental institution. As far as I could tell in my head, she wasn’t guilty about what had happened to Frank, but more about her ignorance after it had occurred.

She was keeping a secret and it was driving me crazy trying to figure it out.

“Dr. Markman says you’re getting better,” Frank’s mom said brightly, changing the subject from the food to Frank’s health.

Frank and I both started. Why would she say that? We both knew that Frank had a long way to go yet. She was the fucking doctor, shouldn’t she know that?

“You might be able to come home soon.”

I stopped fingering the pencil and stared hard at the pattern etched into the metal table. I knew where this conversation was going. I felt sick again.

Frank remained silent for a moment, thinking as hard as I was staring. “I guess,” he said.

Frank’s father decided to intervene, and I seriously wished he hadn’t. “But everyone’s missing you,” he said.

“Who?” Frank snapped. He knew that he had no friends at home. No one would be asking about him.

“Everyone. You know? The neighbours and some family friends. Everyone misses you.”

I squeezed the pencil in my hand and kept my eyes trained down.

Next to me, Frank’s leg twitched angrily. “What did you tell them?” he inquired, his voice level and measured.

“What do you mean?” Frank’s mom realised the situation had gone sour and was desperately trying to calm the waters.

“Did you tell them I was at an expensive Swiss boarding school? Or am I staying with an uncle in Canada? Oh, oh, I know, I’m at an all-boys elite finishing school on the other side of the country, aren’t I?” Frank’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

I was going with option three.

Frank’s parents didn’t reply and my heart sunk. I hated it when I was right about terrible things like this. Why couldn’t I be right about the lottery numbers so I could bribe my way out of this hell hole?

“Well?” Frank asked, looking at them both.

“Stop being silly,” Frank’s father snapped.

Frank’s mother pursed her lips and shot Frank’s father a filthy look. I suddenly had another brainwave as to what Frank’s mom’s secret was. But I didn’t want to think about it. I don’t think Frank could handle hearing that right now. I glanced at her hands and my worst fears were confirmed.

“I’m not being silly,” Frank said begrudgingly.

“Yes, you are. You’re always being silly. You’re silly and you don’t think and then you get yourself into situations. If you just grew up and acted your age for once in your life, we wouldn’t be here.”

Frank’s mom reached across the table and grabbed Frank’s hands. “He didn’t mean that, honey. It’s not your fault. Frank, we under—.”

“—where’s your wedding ring?” Frank blurted out, looking from his mother’s hands to her face accusingly.

Frank’s father was too slow and didn’t move his hands under the table in time. Frank glanced to him and instantly spotted that his father’s wedding band was absent also. All that you could see was the small strip of skin on his ring finger that was paler than the rest. Frank withdrew his hands under the table and clutched them together, slightly panicky.

“Wh-wha-what? Why? What’s going on?” he asked.

Ever since this visit had commenced, I’d noticed that Frank was becoming more and more visibly upset. His eyes were going red and his chin was trembling. It wasn’t like he was beginning to cry, it was more that he was trying to bottle up too much emotion for his little body to handle. I suddenly wished that Frank’s parents would leave.

“Don’t you love each other anymore?” he questioned, clearly distressed.

“We’re just trialling a separation,” Frank’s mother replied gently.

“How long? Since when?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s not clear, sweetie,” she lied.

“It happened after I left, wasn’t it? Don’t lie to me!” he exclaimed as his mother began to shake her head.

“Yes, Frank. We separated one month after you came here,” Frank’s father said brusquely.

“It’s my fault,” Frank stated. Frank’s parents didn’t answer as quickly as I’d hoped they would. “Oh, God,” Frank moaned, resting his head on his hands and hiding his face from us all.

“See what you did?” Frank’s mother snapped.

“Oh, it’s my fault? He didn’t want us to lie to him. If you want to keep treating him like a baby, go ahead. He needs to grow up and stand up for himself.” Frank’s father banged his fist on the table angrily.

“How dare you say that?! How dare you!”

“It’s my salary paying for this place and I’ll say what I want. If you’d paid more attention to the kind of people he was hanging out with….” Frank’s father left the sentence open but it needed no interpretation.

I suddenly became aware that my bottom jaw was on the floor. Well, not literally, but I was so dumbfounded it felt like it. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing and hearing. Frank’s parents were in the middle of a full-blown argument over who was to blame for Frank’s rape. If anyone was to blame it was the sick bastards who did it in the first place. Neither of Frank’s parents had even tried to console Frank or explain the terms of their separation. I clenched my fist around the pencil furiously and ground my teeth together.

“Oh, now it’s my fault!? I was working just the same as you. You are just as responsible as me.”

“Hardly. If you didn’t mother him so much, maybe he wouldn’t have turned out to be such a—.” Frank’s father was cut off by an indignant exclamation from Frank’s mother.

Next to me, Frank began to cry, but I knew that neither of his parents noticed. They were too busy in their own little world to care. I realised now why they hadn’t noticed Frank’s odd behaviour after the rape. They were too selfish and self-interested to care about their son. People like this shouldn’t have children. Not if they can’t look after them properly.

The pencil I’d been holding in my hands snapped in half as I clenched it furiously. I slammed the pieces of wood and graphite onto the surface of the table with a surprisingly loud bang. I knew what I had to do. I didn’t have a choice.

“STOP!” I yelled and rose to my feet, irately. I knew my actions in the next minute would cost me but I didn’t care. I was doing this for Frank’s sake.

Frank’s father rose to meet me. “I don’t know who you think you are, boy, but you need to keep out of other’s business,” he snarled, shaking his pointer finger at me menacingly.

I stalked around the table to stand face to face with Frank’s father. I was the same height as him, thankfully. “Leave,” I demanded. “Leave this place, now.”

“Don’t you threaten me,” he spat, using his finger to poke me hard in the chest.

It took every bone of self-control in my body not to grab his finger and snap it in half. I knew I could do it. I could probably break his wrist too. In one swift movement I could have him writhing on the floor. But I didn’t. The anger that had risen up to my face from my feet stayed contained as I glared at the man who had made Frank so sad on a day that was supposed to be happy.

“You are going to leave this place. And you will not come back unless Frank specifically invites you to. You will leave here and let Frank get on with his life. You will leave. Now. You have no right to come in here and act in such a way that has clearly left Frank upset and distressed. There is no one to blame for what happened to Frank except those individuals who perpetrated the horrendous act. You, nor your wife, nor Frank is to blame for what happened. What happened to Frank is nothing to be ashamed of, but it has become quite clear to me that your common sense has been clouded by your own selfishness and greed. I suggest you wake up from your stupor and realise that you have an extraordinary son.”

I stopped to take a breath and brace myself for Frank’s father’s rejoinder but it never came. He actually looked quite shocked, instead of angry. He looked down at Frank who was now staring at the both of us and swallowed loudly. Frank’s eyes were wet with tears and I knew that Frank’s father realised now that it was him who put those tears there. Frank’s father stepped back from me and looked to his wife. Then, without a word, the two of them left, subdued and embarrassed.

As soon as they had left the room I looked around. Everyone was staring at me. Again. In addition to these looks, I noticed that Ben and Zach were standing cautiously close to the table. It was almost as though they were preparing to break up a fight. Surely they didn’t think that I would hurt Frank’s father did they? Only one person in the room was moving and it was someone I hadn’t seen in a while.

Jasper was weaving his way through the tables towards me, shaking his head with a horrified expression plastered to his grave face. Every few steps he would look over his shoulder.

I knew who he was checking for.

They were coming. And I knew that this time they would get me. I’d manage to escape them once. No one is that lucky twice. I clapped my hand over my mouth, terrified, and scanned all the windows. I was expecting to see their fingers curling over the window sill at any moment.

I heard the flurry of movement to my left and snapped my head to see. Frank had climbed off the seat and had sprinted off towards the west wing. Jasper reached me and grabbed my arm roughly.

“They saw everything. They know about him. They’re coming to get him too.”

The dread and fear overwhelmed me for a second as I realised what I had done. I needed to save him. It was up to me. They were coming for me and they were going to use Frank to do it. I turned on my heels and sprinted urgently after Frank, ignoring the people behind me who called my name and reached out for my arm. My legs pumped with fresh adrenaline as I ran straight for Frank’s room and slammed the door open, urgently calling Frank’s name.

But his room was empty and that could mean one of two things. The first option flitted through my head but I physically made my brain stop from thinking about the second option. Instead I acted on the first one and headed around the corner for the showers, praying to every God I’d ever heard off that Frank was in there.

I didn’t know which God came through on me, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was that the first thing I saw when I opened the door was Frank. He was standing, fully clothed, under the shower stream, shivering uncontrollably. I darted inside the shower and jammed the door shut behind me. A jammed door wouldn’t stop them, but it might slow them down. Or rather, I hoped it would slow them down.