Chapter 8: We Scream To Avoid Suffering In Silence

I was having a hard time trying to determine whether I was dead or not. I didn’t think I was dead…but I have been known to be wrong. Even though me being wrong is a rare occurrence, it is still possible. My head ached and felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool. If I was alive, then it was probably the drugs making me feel like this. But if I was dead, it was most certainly the fact that they had stolen all my secrets and packed the empty space with nonsense. When I say nonsense I am referring to pointless things like how differentiate a polynomial and the order of U.S. Presidents. You know, useless shit like that.

It hurt tremendously to open my eyes, but I was determined to find out where I was so I forced them to obey my will. The light in the room, although dull, instantly forced my eyes shut again. Slowly, I was regaining feeling in my limbs again but was horrified to discover no matter how hard I tried to move them, they wouldn’t. Surely I wasn’t paralysed? No, I couldn’t be. I could feel the light touch of the sheet on my skin. What was going on? Why can’t I move? And what the fuck is that beeping sound?

Blinking rapidly I reopened my eyes, wincing at the light. As my eyes adjusted slowly I realised I was in a hospital bed. Why the hell was I in the hospital? What happened? Fuck me. My eyes darted anxiously around the room, taking in all points of possible exit. The beeping sound grew steadily in tempo as I did so.

I was most obviously alive, but why? Hadn’t they gotten what they wanted? I started running through the secrets in my brain looking for the ones they had stolen. I had reached the letter ‘H’ in my inventory when the door opened and Markman stepped in quietly. I wasn’t panicking yet; everything seemed to be in order, so far.

“Are you in pain?” Markman asked gently.

I didn’t answer her; I was just making my way through ‘K’ and all the vital secrets were fast approaching. I didn’t need any distractions right now.

“Is the bandage too tight?”

I faltered in my inventory as she questioned me. My breath caught in my throat as I realised the pressure on my head was caused by a tight bandage. I didn’t need to complete my inventory anymore; Markman had just confirmed my fears herself.

It had been real. They did cut into my head. They had taken my secrets.

“What are you thinking?” she pressed. I frowned and a burning pain shot through my forehead. She was trying to trick me into talking. I knew she was. But I had learnt my lesson, I knew better this time. They were capable of tracking my voice.

I tried again to move my arms but discovered I was being restrained by padded straps. Furiously I tugged and fought against the straps but with no avail. This was my worst nightmare, I was completely defenceless. Didn’t she realise? The fact I was still alive meant they hadn’t succeeded in their plan to steal my secrets and kill me. And because the world wasn’t in peril and ending, it was obvious they had taken the wrong secrets. It meant they would be back, soon, while I was still weak. I jerked violently against the bonds. It wasn’t too late. The world wasn’t over, yet, there was still a chance. I could defeat them.

Markman realised what I was trying to do. “I can’t remove your restraints, Gerard. Please calm down.”

Calm down!?! What was she thinking? That’s what they want!

“She’s working for them, Gerard. You know she is. It explains everything, doesn’t it?” Jasper appeared out of nowhere and perched himself on the edge of my bed. I gaped at him. She was working for them? Surely not?

My mouth remained open in shock as my head swivelled to stare in disbelief at Jasper and to eye Markman cautiously. Jasper raised one grey-flecked eyebrow at me. “Don’t be stupid,” he said patronisingly as I dared to doubt his accusation. As much as I hated Markman, she was one of the only people I felt I could trust. She had never done anything to make me think she was in league with them.

I snarled at Jasper and he recoiled. Angrily, he leapt to his feet and glared at me. He was wearing his military uniform again but it was slightly more ruffled than it had been during our last meeting. What had he been up to?

“Gerard?” Markman called for my attention and I flicked my gaze to her apprehensively, anticipating a counter-reaction from Jasper in response to my disrespect any moment. “Who are you talking to?”

“Lie,” Jasper hissed. “Don’t you dare tell her, Gerard. Don’t you dare,” he threatened through a clenched jaw.

I swallowed, frightened and shook my head at Markman.

Markman’s eyes flicked up to Jasper, then back to my face. “Is someone else in the room?” she asked carefully.

Yes, of course there was! Can’t you see him? The bastard is fucking threatening me.

“You think I’m a bastard, Gerard?” Jasper questioned smugly.

Wait, he could read my mind? Holy fucking shit!

“Who is it, Gerard?” Markman said urgently. “Who is it?”

I bit my quivering lip as my eyes darted back and forth between Jasper and Markman who were standing on opposite sides of my hard and lumpy hospital bed.

With my eyes I begged Jasper to go away. His presence was sending chills down my spine.

“I’m trying to save you!” he roared. “I’m here to save you, Gerard, not harm you. What is your problem? Do you want them to get you and slice your head open again? I’m here to protect you!”

Bullshit. The word ran savagely through my head and Jasper glared at me furiously.

“Gerard, look at me,” Markman ordered and I obeyed.

Jasper was shaking with rage. “Don’t you tell her, Gerard,” he warned me again.

“Is there someone else in the room, Gerard?” she asked, focusing on me intently.

My eyes flicked back and forth between Markman’s concern and Jasper’s fury. It was almost like I was at a tennis match watching the ball fly back and forth. I weighed up my options. Should I risk discovery again and inform Markman of Jasper’s presence, or should I trust Jasper, who had never lead me astray in the past, and keep quiet?

“Is there someone else in the room?” she repeated, emphasising her words and never averting her eyes from mine.

I swallowed and with one last glance at Jasper I lifted my chin to look eye to eye with Markman. Then I nodded once. It was only a slight nod, but Markman understood. I wondered if she could read my mind too. I wouldn’t put it past her.

A wave of realisation swept over Markman, but I was baffled as to the nature of her sudden epiphany.

I hesitantly snuck a glance at Jasper but was surprised to see he had disappeared. I sat up, alarmed. Did that mean they were coming again? I twisted my torso, straining to examine all the corners of the room in the futile hope Jasper was hiding in one of them. He had vanished as mysteriously as he had appeared. After a full minute passed and I heard no gunshots I convinced myself I was safe for the moment and relaxed.

Markman was leaning over a table and jotting down notes in an official looking folder. A folder I suspected contained my file. The very file that I apparently didn’t want to read. What a bitch, I hated when she decided my life for me like this. A few more minutes passed and she showed no signs of stopping her extensive note taking. I was completely thrown now. Markman had never recorded anything I said or did this extensively before. Fear, suspicion and regret thudded uncomfortably in my chest in sync with my heart as I realised that perhaps Jasper was right. Maybe she was in league with them. Was she writing everything down to give to them? Had she been helping them all along? Fuck me.

My aim was to calm myself down. Panicking was not going to get me out of these restraints anytime soon. I needed my hands free. I couldn’t stand being immobile like this. It was making me anxious. And it was no secret that anxiety and I were not the best of friends.

I cleared my throat loudly to acquire Markman’s attention. She looked at me astonished for a moment before raising a single finger to me. That finger was plainly saying: “wait.”

But I didn’t want to wait. I wanted to read my file. Now. Not later, not in a minute. Now.

Markman dragged a chair over to the side of my bed and sat down gracefully. She crossed her legs and propped the folder against her knee. She looked at me expectantly. I looked at her expectantly. We were both very expectant of each other this morning.

“Can you tell me about the other person in the room with us?” she requested.

Nope. I shook my head and pressed my lips together tightly to symbolise the recommencement of my vow of silence. Ooooohhhhh, Markman wasn’t happy with that. I grinned nastily at her, knowing how much I was irritating her. I tugged on the restraint that was securing my right hand to the bed. If she wanted a response out of me I was going to need a free arm to write.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes, clearly exasperated. I felt only slightly guilty at how much pleasure I got out of making her job ten times harder than it should be. Despite her misgivings she undid the restraint and I stretched my right arm gratefully. She passed me a piece of paper, a pencil and a book to lean on. I took them eagerly and wrote: ‘Is that my file?’

As I handed it back to her she shook her head, amused. When she didn’t answer I flipped the book over to see what it was I was leaning on. It was a textbook entitled, ‘The Mental Health Journey: The Doctor-Patient Relationship’ and it was written by J.A. Slater, M.D. I chuckled at the title and propped it up for Markman to see. I raised an eyebrow, questioning the presence of the book in my room in the first place. I guess, after all these years, I’m still intriguing and puzzling her. She was obviously so baffled as to my genius she was resorting to reading old medical school textbooks. The only thing that confused me was the ‘Mental Health’ section of the title. Did she really think I had a mental illness? I wasn’t mentally ill. I wasn’t depressed or suicidal or anything like that.

“When in doubt, go back to the basics,” Markman muttered and blushed.

I nodded and shrugged. It was a good mentality to have, I guess. A spasm of pain stabbed through my forehead again and I realised I had completely forgotten about the bandage around my head. I touched it gingerly.

“Oh,” Markman said, suddenly. She had forgotten about my wound as well, I think. “I suppose you're wondering about your head?”

I wasn’t actually. I knew exactly what happened.

“You collided with that table quite severely,” she told me. Did I detect a hint of regret in her voice just then? “You split your forehead open quite nicely.”

No! I did not split my head open on the table. They sliced it open. That’s what happened. Don’t try to lie to me!

“But don’t worry,” she assured me, mistaking my confusion as worry. “The very best plastic surgeon on the East Coast was flown here directly to repair your head injury. He promises that that scar will be invisible. He really is the very best.” She emphasised the ‘very’ more than was necessary.

Why was the very best plastic surgeon on the East Coast flown to New Jersey to repair my head? Why was I so special??? I shook my head and stared down at the sheets.

“What’s the matter?” Markman asked, holding out the piece of paper and the pencil to me.

I took it and thought for a moment. Why would she be lying to me? What did she have to gain from it? Every second that passed made me think more and more of the possibility that she was in league with them.

I wrote: ‘That’s not what happened.’ I held it up for Markman to read and I watched her intently for a reaction that would betray her and reveal her allegiance to them. I didn’t get the reaction I expected, or wanted. She seemed genuinely confused for a moment.

“What do you think happened?” Her voice was gentle.

I wrote down what had happened in the last few minutes before she had sedated me. I wrote in detail about them and their attempt to steal my secrets. I left out the part about Jasper though. I wasn’t too keen on finding out what his reaction would be when he realised I had betrayed him. I added onto the end: ‘They must’ve tracked my voice.’

“Oh, Gerard,” she breathed as she read what I had written. “I had no idea,” she said stunned. “You must’ve been so scared.”

I nodded hesitantly.

“Gerard, I know I’ve spoken to you about this before, but do you remember the conversation we had about the illness called schizophrenia?”

Vaguely, yes, I do remember that word. I also remembered ignoring everything Markman had said because it was absurd. I nodded hesitantly again. Why was she bringing it up? I’m not crazy.

“Do you remember being diagnosed with schizophrenia?”

My heart thudded painfully in my chest and I refused to make eye contact with Markman. I would not sit here and let her try to convince me I was crazy. I wasn’t crazy. Ray was crazy. Bob was crazy. I was nothing like them. I wasn’t crazy. I turned my head and stared at the wall, determined to block out everything Markman was trying to tell me. She was lying.

Markman sat forward and set my folder down on the ground. “Please look at me,” she requested.

I shook my head and kept my eyes on the wall. I was staring at the wall so hard now I was half-expecting it to crumble under the intensity of my gaze. I heard Markman sigh and sit back, at a loss again. I continued to stare at the wall until I heard a knock at the door. The door opened and Markman greeted the newcomer.

“Gerard,” she announced loudly. “This is Dr. Reynolds, the plastic surgeon.”

“Hi, Gerard!”

His cheerfulness made me sick. I ignored him too. He had styled blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that were all too eager to engage me. I despised his attractiveness; it merely reminded me of my own plain appearance.

“I’m just here to look at your stitches, Gerard. Do you mind?”

He took my lack of a response as a no. His long, million-dollar fingers deftly undid the bandage on my head until the cool air stung the wound. He turned my head to face him as he examined the stitches carefully. “Nice,” he muttered to himself. “That’s repairing perfectly,” he informed me. “I doubt there will even be a scar. You owe me,” he added playfully.

I most certainly do not! I don’t owe you a thing, you arrogant ass. I didn’t ask for your expert fingers to keep my head perfect. I wouldn’t have cared if I had a massive scar across my forehead or not.

“Are you sure?” Markman asked apprehensively. Obviously she didn’t believe in his self-assuredness as much as he did.

“Yep. You taking him home today?”

“Yes, the swelling in his brain has decreased to a stable level for transport. I’ll escort him back to Bluestone tonight and monitor him there. Familiarity is best for Gerard, I think.”

Dr. I-Think-I’m-So-Great-But-I’m-Not-Really wrapped the bandage around my head again as he chatted casually with Markman. It was like I wasn’t even in the room. They had no qualms about discussing my future in front of me, but it irritated me.

“Did he approve that?”

“He has no say,” Markman replied stiffly, offended by Dr. Reynolds doubt.

Who was he? Gosh, the secrets were really coming out now. I pretended I was still ignoring them, but secretly I was listening hard.

Dr. Reynolds laughed good-naturedly. “I meant no offence. Please accept my apology. What did the latest CT results say?”

Markman crossed the short distance to pick up the large envelope slotted behind my chart and extracted the negatives of my CT scan. She handed them over to Dr. Reynolds who held them up against the light box near the bathroom. Markman stood by his side, her head barely reaching his broad shoulders.

“That’s from three years ago,” Markman whispered and pointed to the scans on the left. Her intention was to prevent me from hearing but I heard everything anyway. “These were taken this morning.”

Dr. Reynolds whistled under his breath. “That crack is getting bigger,” he murmured, tracing his fingers over the scan. I squinted but I couldn’t see any trace of a crack in my skull. What was he getting at? Why was he looking at three year old scans? I don’t recall having scans three years ago. I can’t even remember back to three years ago. I couldn’t even remember what I had for dinner last week. I couldn’t even remember what I had for breakfast half the time.

Wait, hang on. Yes, I do. I remember one day. On that day, I had peanut butter on toast. And Frank had jelly on toast. Oh Frank, how could I have forgotten about him? It was his fault I was here. It was his fault, but I couldn’t find it in my heart to blame him. If he hadn’t been so upset that day in the group therapy session I would never have spoken to him. If we had never formed that bizarre understanding that day I wouldn’t have felt the need to offer him my room. If we hadn’t shared a room, I would never have dreamed of speaking to him. If I had never opened my mouth, they wouldn’t have tracked my voice and tried to steal the secrets in my brain.

I knew what this meant now. It meant I had to stay away from Frank. It was too dangerous for me to be around Frank anymore. It was too tempting to open my mouth around him. Besides, Jasper had been right all along. When they come back to finish what they started, Frank couldn’t be around me. I was becoming too emotionally attached to Frank. He was just going to get hurt if we stayed friends for any longer. It was a risk I wasn’t going to take.

I loved him too much now.

Tears of despair pricked in my eyes but I blinked them back furiously. There was only one thing to do now. I knew Frank wouldn’t want to be cut out of my life just like that. It would hurt him too much. He wouldn’t be able to cope, I knew he wouldn’t. I needed to transfer. I couldn’t go back to Bluestone.

On the piece of paper I wrote my request to Markman: ‘I can’t go back to Bluestone. Please don’t take me back. I need to transfer to another facility. I don’t care where. It’s too dangerous for anyone to be around me anymore. When they come back to finish what they started they will go after Frank. They know he is the only person I care about. I won’t be able to protect him. Just like the other boy. I don’t know who he was except that I tried to save him. I failed that time, I won’t fail again. Please help me.’

I waited until after Dr. Reynolds had left before I handed over the note. Markman read through it, shaking her head the whole time. She seemed quite torn for a minute and I felt hopeful. However, by now, I should’ve known better than to pin any hope on that woman.

“Get some sleep,” she told me and walked out.

I did manage to go to sleep in the end but had the most terrifying nightmare of my life.

I was walking through a massive mansion and was definitely lost. The white walls were identical to each other and the rooms were void of any objects. I couldn’t distinguish between the rooms and had the despairing feeling that I was travelling in circles through this spacious house. I finally arrived at the bottom of a vast staircase and climbed it in trepidation. I had no idea what awaited me and sweat was dripping down my forehead. In a vague motion I swept my soaking wet hair out of my face and was surprised at how wet it had become. The next thing I knew, my clothes were soaking wet as well and dragging me down. It became a struggle to continue placing one foot in front of the other to climb the stairs. The weight became too much for me and I fell to my knees. However, instead of landing on the hard, marble stairs I fell abruptly into a pool of water.

Frank was clutching at me in an instant. I wrapped my arm around him protectively whilst using the other to keep us afloat.

“Help me,” he screamed in my ear.

I made him hold onto the wall while I swam toward the centre of the pool. As I trod the water, it steadily became harder and harder under my feet until it felt like I was stuck in cement. Horrified, I glanced down at my feet and realised I was standing on solid ground again. I was back in the featureless mansion.

“Frank,” I cried out, spinning around.

There was blood everywhere. The white walls of the mansion were dripping in the red viscous liquid. It oozed down the walls slowly, leaving a dark trail. My stomach churned uncomfortably as I took in the ghastly sight. I took a step forward and my feet made splashing noises. Bewildered, I let my eyes drop down to the floor. The blood seeping down the walls was forming pools and I was standing directly in the middle of one. My sneakers were stained red and matched the front of my clothes.

How did my clothes get blood on them? There was blood on my hands too and I panicked before trying to rub it off on my jeans. My efforts only caused the blood to smear all over my wrists and forearms.

So much blood.

I spotted Frank a good twenty yards away lying motionless in the puddles of blood. As I ran toward him the ripples I caused battered his lifeless body. I was scanning his face for any sign of life but he was as void of life as this house was of colour. No matter how much I ran, Frank’s body never got any closer. I cried out in frustration and slowed to a halt.

The wall to the right of Frank’s body suddenly split open and a figure stepped out. He was wearing a featureless mask and I couldn’t identify him. He knelt down and ran one pale finger over Frank’s face. He stood and held up his finger for me to see. Then he pressed his blood-stained finger to his face and wiped the blood on the mask exactly where I’d imagined his lips to be.

He leant down again to dip his finger in a puddle of blood near Frank’s head. The red liquid dripped slowly down his finger and onto his palm as he inverted his hand. I realised aghast, that he was smiling at me. The blood stain on his mask over his lips curved wickedly into a smirk.

His clean hand removed the mask suddenly and I let out an anguished cry as I recognised the person behind the mask. He leered at me and raised his blood stained finger to his real lips this time and coated them in the blood. My hands clenched together as he then proceeded to lick his lips slowly, mopping up the blood with his tongue.

“You monster,” I shouted at him.

The insane look in his eyes increased as he laughed creepily. The sound echoed in my head as I struggled to comprehend. The loathsome man standing over Frank’s body licking the blood wasn’t a stranger. He was someone I knew all too well. It was me under that mask. I was the monster.

In the car on the way back to Bluestone I trembled constantly. I was tired, scared and cold. I didn’t dare close my eyes for fear I would drop off to sleep and see all that blood again. There had been so much blood. Too much. Markman pestered me the whole way back to speak to her but I just stared out the window. When she accepted that I wasn’t going to converse with her she pressed a pencil into my hand and urged me to write down what I was feeling. Like hell I’m going to write down what I’m feeling. What is this? The fucking second grade?

I didn’t want to go back. I couldn’t go back. How was I going to look into Frank’s eyes and inform him I couldn’t be around him anymore? It wasn’t as though I didn’t want to be around him, it was just that I couldn’t. I knew he wouldn’t understand. Of course he wouldn’t understand. I would actually be offended if he understood and just walked away. That would hurt me. But then again, I’m used to pain. I deserved pain. I deserved all the pain the universe could throw at me. I didn’t deserve to be happy. I was a monster.

But I wasn’t crazy. No, no, no. That was one thing I was sure of. I was not crazy.

***

 

Did you know that it’s possible to die from lack of sleep before you die from starvation? I would never have believed it was true until I stopped sleeping. Every time I dared to close my eyes I saw the blood again. I saw it dripping off the walls and pooling onto the floor. I would wake every time trying not to scream. I would stuff my pillow over my face and scream into it until my oxygen ran out and I had to stop. I couldn’t bear to keep seeing Frank lying there dead anymore. I forced myself to stay awake. The toll this act was taking on my body was incredible. Like I said, I would never have believed you could die from lack of sleep. But, if I’m lucky, you can.

I know I’ve said a few times that I wasn’t going to kill myself. Just because I wasn’t going to kill myself didn’t mean that sometimes I didn’t want to die. I hadn’t seen Frank since I’d gotten back and every second that passed without me seeing his perfect face was a vicious and brutal stab in the heart. I refused to leave the infirmary. I curled up in a ball under the blankets and stared at the wall. One would think that staring at a wall for 23 hours a day, every day, would become taxing but you’d be surprised. I was surprised I hadn’t discovered this pastime before. Did you know that there are 1958 marks on the wall next to my bed? I count them every day, just to make sure I hadn’t miscounted. Occasionally I would count only 1950 marks, which was incorrect, so I would begin my tally again.

Oh, another thing I’d discovered: I really, sincerely, despised Markman.

“You’re not staying here any longer,” she told me after I refused to move for another week.

My spirits soared out the window at that moment. Was she really going to transfer me? Oh, I love you, Markman.

“Get up,” she demanded.

Oh, fuck you. You’re not transferring me, are you?

“Move,” she demanded but I resisted. “Okay,” she said, her voice rising an octave. She marched over the cupboard angrily and pulled out a tourniquet and a needle. “Let’s get this week’s blood test over now then, shall we?”

Ohhhhhh no you fucking don’t! I stared at her fearfully, thinking she was joking but she wasn’t. At that moment I also discovered that lack of sleep also makes you incredibly weak. Even against Markman I was useless. I couldn’t have this blood test now. I needed Frank. Frank was supposed to be my lifeline. I felt another anxiety attack brewing. Please don’t! She clipped the tourniquet around my bicep and tightened it unnecessarily tight.

I shook my head at her, my face betraying a mixture of fear, despair and pain. My eyes were filling with tears again as I pleaded with her to stop. I couldn’t do this now. I needed Frank. What the fuck was I thinking? Pushing him away was not the answer. He was my lifeline. I am the biggest fucking idiot on the planet. Fuck Jasper and fuck them.

“Will you come with me to the group therapy session then?” She paused in her attempt to pierce my skin with the needle.

Uh-huh. I sighed and nodded, irked by the fact she had manipulated me again.

Everyone else was shuffling chairs into an off-centre circle as we arrived together. Straight away I could sense Frank’s presence in the room but didn’t dare raise my eyes from the ground to find him. I sat as far away from Markman as possible. That demon lady had crossed me one too many times for me to even pretend to like her anymore.

Markman opened the meeting by introducing the new kid to everyone. His name was Adam and he was crazy too. I could sense from the way he spoke. His voice was jittery and his sentences were disjointed. He would start to say one thing then abruptly change his mind and start on a new sentence. It was incredibly off-putting.

“Would you like to begin, Ray?”

Ray just loved being the first to speak at these meetings. I personally think he lived for these meetings. He found it a tremendous honour to share his ‘messages’ with everyone. If I was getting weird messages like he was I wouldn’t be shouting it to the world. That would be the last thing I would do. I would keep it to myself. It would be my secret.

“One of my messages actually came true!” His eyes were overjoyed as he shared his achievement with the group.

“Now, now, Ray, we’ve spoken about this before.” Markman may as well as thrown a dart at his balloon.

The look of pure dejection on his face was incredible. I thought the poor guy was going to burst into tears for a moment. Instead he scowled and folded his arms defiantly across his chest.

“Gerard believes me,” Ray announced in a very matter-a-fact tone.

I did? Why was he bringing me into this?

“Don’t you remember? The clouds,” he prompted.

Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

“The clouds told me ‘They are coming’ and they did, didn’t they, Gerard? They came.”

Everyone was looking at me curiously. I shrugged, refusing to confirm or deny anything. I didn’t want to think about them. I bit my lip nervously and struggled to think of something else. Thinking of anything was better than thinking of them. In the end I settled on filing all my memories of Frank to ensure they wouldn’t get lost in my head.

Markman prompted Adam to speak next after my silence continued on for an extended period of time. Ray was shattered that I hadn’t backed his claims up but I didn’t really care. Adam told us how he had been abducted by aliens when he was out swimming in the ocean one cloudy night. At that moment it almost killed me to keep the peals of laughter inside. My ribs were aching by the time he finished his recount. I knew I had the biggest smirk on my face but it appeared I was the only one. How could that not be amusing to anyone else? Seriously, how drugged up was everyone?

I hadn’t planned on contributing to this group meeting at all, and I’m positive Markman was aware of that. However, it didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try.

“Gerard,” she began, “I think it’s your turn.”

I raised my eyebrows at her condescendingly. How stupid was she really? With a bored look upon my face I shook my head. Me, speak at a meeting? Ha, you wish jellyfish.

The next person to speak was Frank and I had been looking forward to hearing what he had to say the most. I didn’t care about messages in clouds, or aliens abducting innocent swimmers. I cared about Frank and everything he had to say.

“I forgot my birthday,” he said faintly.

“When was your birthday?” Markman inquired.

“Two weeks ago. Halloween. I only realised this morning that it’s November. I forgot my birthday,” he repeated dolefully.

To me, birthdays are a waste of time and memory. I can’t stand the attention and the colour and the noise associated with them. They’re just painful experiences. Besides, I don’t have any friends. Who would buy me a birthday present or bake me a cake? No one. Exactly my point. To Frank however, birthdays obviously meant a lot. And now he had lost one. Fuck, I hope I didn’t have anything to do with that? With my luck, I probably did.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“The only person I wanted to tell wasn’t here.”

My heart thudded painfully in my chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It was my fault. Oh, god, I hated myself. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t make eye contact. Do not raise your head. Keep looking at the ground, Gerard. Be a man. The guilt swirled intensely in my stomach. I could sense all the eyes staring at me again and I wanted to disappear.

“Would you like to have a cake, Frank?” asked Markman.

“No, thank you,” he murmured. The misery that laced his voice right then almost made me cry out.

I’m sorry, Frank. I’m so, so, so, sorry. Please forgive me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Frank. I swear I didn’t mean it. It took all the self-control I could muster to keep my mouth shut. My heart continued to splutter in my chest but I fought against it. The guilt was consuming me faster than I would have ever thought possible.

Frank didn’t say anymore after that. I switched off then. Nothing else interested me enough to keep listening. However, I was so exhausted from lack of sleep that my eyes kept drifting shut. It didn’t take me very long to slip into unconsciousness.

Oh, fuck. So much blood!

I awoke abruptly and slid sideways off my chair. I buried my face in my shaking hands and bit down hard on my palm to quell the screams. Don’t look at Frank, I commanded myself. A split second later I made the very wise decision to walk out. As I walked out, my stomach protested angrily abut the lack of food I had provided it with over the last week, so I decided to go to dinner before I retreated back to the infirmary.

The blinds over the reinforced glass windows had been secured back and the entire cafeteria was bathed in golden sunlight as the sun set for the day. Bad day to be a vampire. The menu today consisted of soup, soup and more soup. I hated soup. I collected a bowl of chicken soup anyway, my ravenous stomach winning me over. I weaved my way back through the tables to my table. It looked exactly the same as it did when I saw it last.

There was practically no chicken in this chicken soap. It should have been called vegetable soap with added chicken instead, I decided. I made a mental note to mention my renaming of the soup to the cafeteria ladies sometime. I got to three pieces of diced chicken, sixteen pieces of corn and twenty three green peas when Frank sat down hesitantly at my table. I cringed and stood up, avoiding his eyes. If I looked into his striking, alluring, hazel eyes I would crumble and give in.

“You don’t want to talk to me anymore.” It was more a statement than a question. Yes! Of course I want to talk to you. I want to make you laugh and see you smile that beautiful smile. I want to see your face light up and come alive. I want to see the stars sparkle from your eyes. I want you, Frank, but I can’t have you. I couldn’t bring myself to nod; I couldn’t find it in myself to sever our relationship. I sighed sadly and walked away towards the infirmary.

As I approached the infirmary I was turned away and sent to my old room. I sent the stupid male nurse the most loathsome, hate-filled glare I could muster but he must’ve been immune because it didn’t faze him. I stomped away, cursing Markman to hell in my head. I hated her.

After the lights went out it became harder and harder to stay awake. The darkness was definitely in league with my head in its attempt to lure me into a terror-filled slumber. I fell asleep only once where I was resting uncomfortably against the hard metal frame of the bed. An agony-riddled moan escaped my lips as I awoke shuddering uncontrollably. It was looking more and more like I was going to have to request sleeping pills to escape these nightmares. Not that Markman would give them to me anyway. She would blackmail me if she knew what I needed. I wasn’t going to hand such a power over to her without a fight.

I started pacing after that. I’d never heard of a person falling asleep whilst standing before. Sure, cows could but I wasn’t a cow. I walked back and forth across the room so many times I lost track. I would touch the wall on one side of the room then stagger my way over to the door and slap my fingers against the wood. Only once did I fall down and it only made me more determined to get back up. Hey, don’t they say: fall seven times, stand up eight. It inspired me and kept me going for a few more laps.

The knock on the door was so unexpected I thought I had imagined it. Panic gripped me as the door opened slowly. Of course it wasn’t anything bad that stepped through the doorway; it was Frank. Frantic, I ignored him and recommenced my pacing. He stood over to the side and watched me walk, an amused smile playing on his god-like face. My heart raced ahead of my thoughts as I snuck a glance at him.

“Can I ask why you are pacing?” he whispered tentatively.

You can ask, yes. I didn’t reply in words or even acknowledge that I heard his question. He sighed and sat down on my bed, tucking his legs up to his chest.

“You don’t have to protect me,” he murmured. “I know you think you have to, but I’m here to tell you that it’s not necessary.”

How did he know about that? I faltered in my brisk walking and glanced uneasily at him again.

“As soon as I get out of here I’m signing up for karate,” he explained and I couldn’t tell if he was serious or joking. “Anyone tries anything on me again, they’re dead.” I smiled at the earnest undertone to his voice. “I’m not going anywhere. You can’t get rid of me that easily, Gerard.”

I stopped wearing a path in the floorboards and he said something that sound suspiciously like, “finally.” I turned to face him and folded my arms seriously. He could not treat this like a joke. But his face was the epitome of seriousness as I gazed at him. Even in the darkened room I could see everything. My eyes are brilliant like that.

“Aren’t you tired? You look exhausted,” he informed me.

I wrapped my right hand around my neck and heaved a sigh. I didn’t need to nod for Frank to understand. “Dreams again?” he guessed.

I agreed with a nod and he pursed his lips sadly. He ran his hand through his black hair absent-mindedly. “Do you wanna tell me about them?”

I did. But it wouldn’t have the same effect if I had to write it down. Frank patted the space next to him on the bed and I sat. It was hard not to be attracted to Frank when he smelt so fucking fantastic. I inhaled deeply, feeling only slightly guilty. He grabbed my sketch book from where it had been abandoned on the floor and I accepted it. I left most of the gory details out of my recount of the dream but knew I couldn’t get away without mentioning Frank’s deceased status. As Frank was reading what I wrote he didn’t seem scared like I had anticipated. Even as he read the part about him being dead he stayed very calm and un-reactive.

“Do you think me being dead is a metaphor for the other boy, Michael?” he breathed eventually.

I nodded. That was what I had suspected as well. It’s amazing how alike we were on some things.

“That’s……interesting,” he noted and underlined the section where I had described the blood on my hands. “Don’t be angry with me,” he said timidly, “but have you ever killed anyone?”

I groaned wretchedly. Frank held the sketchbook out to me and I wrote angrily: ‘I don’t remember!’

Frank recoiled away from me noticeably and I felt furious at myself. To amend my deeds I wrote: ‘I’m sorry. What I meant was I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think I would know if I had homicidal tendencies.’

He nodded slowly and smiled reassuringly at me. I groaned again and let my head fall back to rest against the wall. I felt Frank rummage around in his pockets for something and rolled my head to the side to see. He pulled out the pair of dark blue gloves that Ray had given him ages ago. He pulled them on and I got a shock when he clasped my hand tightly.

“I have an idea,” he mumbled. I encouraged him to continue with my eyes. “Well, in your dreams you say you keep finding me dead, right? Well, maybe if I stay here and hold your hand while you sleep, it’ll sink through to your subconscious that I’m not dead and that I’m sitting right here beside you.”

My heart almost burst with happiness at that moment and I couldn’t prevent the smile from covering my face. I nodded enthusiastically. Frank beamed back at me when he realised I thought his idea was genius. He snatched the pillow without delay and tucked it against his shoulder and neck. His gloved hand uncertainly made its way toward my face and he gently guided my aching head to his shoulder. I let my head fall onto the pillow and just before I fell asleep I felt his hands squeeze my hands tightly and comfortingly.

He was letting me know that I didn’t have to suffer in silence anymore.