Chapter 14: If All Is Not Lost, Where Is It?

I slowed down to a walk and unconsciously smoothed down my shirt as I approached Frank’s room. I wanted to bang my fist on the door and kick it open to show Frank how crazy he made me. But I didn’t. Of course I didn’t. I just knocked lightly and waited. I wondered if Frank knew it was me at the door and was ignoring me. I would ignore me too.

Eventually, I opened the door and peered in. The huge speech I had planned in my head died. Frank was asleep. How very anticlimactic. I sighed and took a step closer. Frank was curled up in the middle of his bed, his blankets strewn around him. He looked ill. There was only one word for it. His arms were wrapped around his stomach and his hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, even though it was fairly cool in his room. I wondered if it had anything to do with what Bert and I had said. I’d heard of emotional problems manifesting as physical problems. Had I made Frank like this?

Fuck.

My stomach ached and all I wanted was to lie down next to him and hold him in my arms. I just wanted to fix it. I hated how useless I felt. Despite my overwhelming desires to hug him, I didn’t move any closer. I didn’t want to wake him. I stood for a minute staring at him, my guilt over what I had said earlier eating me inside. I hated myself so much.

Eventually, I remembered that Markman was waiting for me so I retreated regretfully from his room and shut the door again. On my way back to Markman I swung past the rec room where I found Ray and Bob playing poker. I caught a glimpse of Ray’s hand. He had three sixes. Not a bad hand. They both gave me their attention as I approached them.

“I think there’s something wrong with Frank,” I told them. “I think he’s sick. Could you check on him later? He’s asleep at the moment.”

Ray looked very concerned. “Of course,” he said. He glanced at Bob. “Told you there was something wrong with him this morning.”

Bob nodded serenely. “We will take care of him,” he promised.

I thanked them both and left. My worry hadn’t lessened any but there was nothing I could do. I sighed and returned to Markman.

I was surprised to see Markman still waiting for me at the glass door. I had expected her to come looking for me. It appeared that she had trusted me when I said I would be right back. I never thought I’d ever use that word to describe our relationship.

“What were you doing?” she asked as I casually walked back up to her.

“Trying to fix things,” I replied cryptically.

“Oh.” Markman nodded knowingly. I swear she can read my mind.

I was slightly annoyed that I hadn’t gotten to say what I wanted to Frank. I didn’t get to tell him how I would fight for him. Now I know what I had been planning to say to Frank wasn’t especially poetic. It wasn’t quotable. It wasn’t going to go down in history as the greatest love declaration of all time. But I think it was going to mean something to him. I’ll tell him tonight when I get back from this stupid, unnecessary trip. I hated that I was being torn away before I had a chance to fix things. What if Frank woke up still hating me? What if it was too late to fix things tonight?

Fuck me.

I huffed loudly as I followed Markman to the waiting car. It was a fucking sweet looking car, by the way. I have no idea what type of car it is; all I know it that I wanted it for my own. I have no clue how to drive but how hard can it be?

As I settled into the leather seat I noticed for the first time in a while that my face was aching again. The entire left side of my face was throbbing horribly. This has been a bad day.

In one day I have discovered three things: I’m being spied on, I am useless in a fist fight and I’m also useless at maintaining any type of adult romantic relationship. And now, when I get back to the facility, I’m going to have to worry about what Frank is going to do. I really, really, sincerely hope he’s forgiven me. It was really nice to kiss him. What I wouldn’t give to do it again. I would give up this car. Even though it’s not mine, I’d still give it up.

It seemed that they were expecting us at the hospital. As we made our way inside we were joined by two men in black suits. One walked briskly in front of us and the other tailed us. I had never seen either of them before in my life. I had no clue what the fuck they were doing. It seemed they were some kind of security escort. That thought made me furious. It wasn’t like I was going to run away or anything. I knew Markman didn’t really trust me.

Actually, they do seem a little bit familiar. I’d seen suit people like them once or twice back at Bluestone. Shit, was I really that likely to run away?

This is a bad fucking day.

My mood was even blacker by the time we reached the Radiography department. I sulked all the way through the scan. I did, however, do everything the stupid machine told me to do. When it told me to inhale and hold my breath I did. When it told me to exhale and breath normally, I did that too. I didn’t really want to screw anything up. I hated this place and I wanted to go home.

Ha, isn’t it ridiculously pathetic to consider your home a mental institution?

After the scan I was ordered to sit on one of the waiting room chairs outside the room. There were seven doctors, including Markman, all crowded around the light box pointing at my scan and arguing with each other about something. It amused me for a little while but then I felt very self-conscious. I remembered my apparent brain damage and wondered if that was what they were getting excited about. Holy fuck! Maybe they found a brain tumour instead! I knew I had one.

One of the suit men was standing several metres away. He was standing very tall and rigid, like he was at an army training camp or something and a trainer was shouting in his face. He was also staring intently down the corridor. I couldn’t discern what he was staring at though. Something about that wall at the end of the corridor was mighty interesting to him. I noticed that he had an earpiece in his ear. The cord ran down his neck and into the collar of his pressed white shirt. Interesting.

I tried to get his attention. “So, what are you? FBI?” I enquired.

No response.

I tried again. “CIA?”

Nothing.

I thought for a bit. “Secret Service?”

The suit man’s eyes flicked to me for a brief second before he continued staring at nothing. My eyes grew wide. “Holy shit!” I exclaimed. “Secret Service? Is the President here?!”

The suit man glanced back at me. “No, Sir,” he said curtly.

My excitement died down. “What a shame,” I said. “I’d really like to meet the President.”

The suit man turned to stare at me, an intense look of bewilderment on his face. I was equally as confused. I didn’t understand why he was looking at me in that way. What was so strange about wanting to meet the President?

“What did I say?” I asked defensively.

“Jesus Christ.” The man shook his head in what I assumed was disbelief and resumed his intense staring down the corridor.

I glowered at him. I was so sick of people keeping secrets from me. Now even complete strangers were keeping secrets. I stomped over to him and stood directly in his line of vision. “What?!” I demanded.

“Nothing, Sir.”

I made a very loud noise of disgust and stomped away from him and into the bathroom. I shut and locked the door and slid down the wall until I was crouched on the floor. A small knot of worry was forming in my stomach. I was very afraid that something in my scan wasn’t right. Markman never took this long. There have also never been seven doctors arguing over it before. I lamented for a couple more minutes before making the bad decision to check out my face in the mirror.

My beautiful face was broken. The bruising was coming out already around my left eye and cheek and it made me look like a monster. There were also several small cuts and abrasions that I hadn’t noticed previously. My split lip was also worse than I had thought. I gingerly touched the black skin around my eye and winced at the pain. The only good thing was that it wasn’t very swollen. Thank God, I didn’t need to look like a puffer fish as well.

This is a really, really terrible day. I wanted it to end already.

I wet my hands under the tap and tried to wipe away some of the dried blood the nurses had missed. It hurt too much to touch my face so I stopped. I scrunched up the piece of paper towel I used to dry my hands and threw it in the bin. As I watched the towel land in the black bin I noticed a newspaper folded in half and tucked down the side. My eyes lit up in disbelief. We weren’t allowed to read newspapers in the institution and I was always dying to know what was going on in the outside world. I extracted the paper and spread it out on the bathroom floor. The first thing that caught my eye was the headline on the front page.

It read: Ballato To Defend First Son

Under the headline was a picture of Lindsey, my scary lawyer. The picture took up the entire front page. She looked pretty serious in the photo. She was standing next to some other man that looked remotely familiar. I quickly flicked to the next page to see if the story continued. I had no idea what the story was about but just as I was about to start reading Markman knocked on the door and called to me. Stricken, I glanced up.

“Just a second,” I called. I would be dead meat if Markman caught me reading a newspaper. I tore the first page out and tucked it deep into my jeans pocket. I shoved the paper back into the bin and covered it with the paper towel. No one will ever know.

I opened the door and faced Markman. She handed me the hospital gown you were required to wear when undergoing scans. “Can you please put this back on,” she requested, her voice strained.

I knew why. “More scans?” I said. Something was definitely wrong.

“More scans,” she confirmed quietly and left me to it.

That was the closest I’d ever seen Markman come to crying.

***

It was dinnertime when we got back to Bluestone. Markman had not said anything to me since the bathroom encounter. The knot in my stomach was tightening painfully with every minute of silence that elapsed between us in the car. She couldn’t even look at me. It made me feel like crying. I was literally sick with worry.

I knew something bad was in my head. It wasn’t just my paranoia. It was real.

Markman didn’t even take the time to walk me back inside. She ordered one of the suit men to take me back to the foyer and sign me in. Relieved to be back home, I wandered to the cafeteria. Not because I was hungry, but because I knew that’s where everybody was. I grabbed a bowl of soup out of habit and sat down slowly at my table. Everyone was staring at me. Of course they were – I was the fucking idiot who got pummelled in the fight this morning.

I forced two spoonfuls of the lukewarm green mush down my throat before giving up. Frank was nowhere to be found in the cafeteria. I did see Bob and Ray, however, and made the decision to go over and sit with them. I’d never sat at another table before. It felt weird and alien. I was only sitting with them because I needed an update on Frank.

“Good evening, Gerard,” Bob said.

“How’s Frank?” I ignored the pleasantries. I wasn’t comfortable sitting at this table. I wanted to leave.

“You were right,” Ray said.

Naturally, Ray, I’m always right. I know things.

“Frank’s sick.”

I knew it. “Is he okay, though?”

“He’s not dying, if that’s what you mean?”

I frowned at Ray. It is not funny to joke about death. Not at all. Not when you’ve killed someone yourself. It’s not funny at all.

I left the table without saying thank you. I was worried about Frank. I’d never had a proper friend before who I worried about. Even though, technically speaking, Frank and I weren’t friends at the moment, I still felt obligated to worry about him. I went to my room and lay down. My head was still throbbing and all I wanted was to close my eyes and end this day. I debated with myself for a minute about whether I should go and find Frank but I fell asleep before I made a decision.

I awoke four hours later due to the incredible pain that radiated from the left side of face. Fuck you, Bert. I hope I broke your jaw. If I didn’t, I’d be happy to try again.

I lay in the darkness for a long time with my eyes shut, hoping I would fall back to sleep. I couldn’t decide whether I should get up and find the orderly on duty and beg for some painkillers. I wanted to, but then I didn’t want anyone to know that I couldn’t handle the pain. I could only imagine the pain and shame that Frank copes with everyday. This was nothing.

Another hour passed and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I made my way to my door and opened it, blinking at the bright lights. That’s strange, there aren’t usually this many lights on at this time of the night. I had barely been standing in my doorway for two minutes when Ben came marching down the corridor carrying towels and a bucket. He looked surprised to see me.

“What’s up?” he asked.

This is why I liked Ben. Anyone else would have sent me back to bed. At least Ben was going to give me a chance to plead my case.

“I can’t sleep,” I said and unconsciously touched my bruised face.

“Oh, of course. Dr. Markman did prescribe you some painkillers. Would you like some?”

I nodded; I could feel the relief already.

“I’m busy at the moment so you’ll have to wait a few minutes, okay?” Ben marched off again without waiting for my answer.

It was 2:15am, what could Ben possibly be doing?

I’m a nosy person. I liked to know everything that happens in this God-forsaken place. It’s the only way I get through the day sometimes. I began wandering in the direction that I’d seen Ben coming from. As I rounded the corner I noticed the bathroom lights were on and Frank’s door was open. My stomach twisted painfully and I hastened my steps to the bathroom. I peered around the door and saw Frank crouched on the ground, throwing up into a bucket. He didn’t see me and I didn’t announce my presence just yet. He was dressed only in a pair of black boxers and a plain black shirt. It was the most leg I’d ever seen from him, besides that whole shower incident. From where I was I could see his clothes and hair were plastered to his skin from sweat. He was obviously fighting a fever. I remained in the doorway and continued to watch him throw up until all he could do was dry-retch. I was just about to walk in when Ben nudged me. I glanced at him reluctantly and he looked annoyed. He pointed towards my room, obviously ordering me to go back to it.

Does he really think I would leave Frank here alone? Not a chance.

I noticed the bottle of water and fresh face towels in his hands. I took them off him and walked over to Frank. I crouched down next to him apprehensively and handed him the bottle of water.

Frank reluctantly accepted it and took several large gulps.

“I don’t want you here,” he said and set the water down, clutching his stomach.

“I’m not leaving.” Not a chance, buddy.

Frank glanced sideways at me and gave me a defiant stare. He was about to say something when his hand flew up to his mouth in panic. He reached for the bucket but was too slow and the water he had just swallowed came back up into his hands and all over his front. I snatched the bucket up and held it for him, feeling incredibly sorry for him. I quickly wet a few of the towels in the sink and waited until Frank was finished retching into the bucket. I silently handed a towel to him and he wiped off his hands. With another towel I gently reached out and started wiping his face. He went very still as I did but he didn’t stop me. He just stared at me as I helped to clean him up. I starting dabbing down his front with the towel but stopped just before I reached his lap. We both swallowed loudly and I quickly handed the towel over. Frank took it, his cheeks going bright red. Well, even more red, considering how flushed he was from the fever.

“I don’t like you seeing me like this,” he whispered.

I pointed to my face. “I’m not much better.”

A tiny smile appeared as he concentrated on wiping down his shirt. I quickly glanced to the doorway and was glad to see that Ben was gone. I gathered up all my courage and reached out, brushing Frank’s cheek with the backs of my fingers. Frank didn’t flinch or move away.

“You really don’t see how beautiful you are, do you?”

I meant it. I had never believed in anything more in my life. But still, Frank pushed my hand away and shifted away from me. I didn’t understand why he didn’t get it.

“Frank,” I implored.

“I don’t see it, Gerard,” he whispered wretchedly. “You don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand?” I asked.

Frank glanced to door but it was still empty. He leant in closer and whispered, “I don’t deserve it.”

“Bullshit,” I said, keeping my voice low.

Frank just shook his head and turned away from me, resting his tired head on his hands. We sat in an awkward silence, and I knew that Frank wanted me to leave. But I wasn’t going to. I was going to let him know that I was here to stay. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t going to abandon him or give up on him like everybody else had. I was going to prove that I wasn’t going to use him.

“I’m going to fight for you,” I said.

Frank didn’t react but I knew he had heard what I had just said. I sighed softly and changed the subject. “Are you upset about what Bert said?”

“No.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” I told him.

“I’m not lying. You shouldn’t be upset when somebody tells you the truth about something” he replied listlessly, still not making eye contact with me.

“What?!” I exclaimed, outraged. “Bert is full of shit.”

“No, he’s not. It’s true. I’m dirty. He sees it. It’s not just in my head. I can’t get clean. I can’t.”

Frank clenched his fists and screwed up his face, trying to contain the anger. Oh what I wouldn’t give to reach out and just hold him in my arms. I knew that no matter how many times I tried to alleviate his self-torture I was going to fail.

“I hate them!” he exploded and struck the tiles on the floor in anger with his clenched fists. He was literally shaking now; his small frame was becoming consumed from the combination of self-loathing and hatred for those bastards. “I hate everybody.” He turned to me. “I hate you!”

I met his furious gaze. “Why?” I asked, hurt. “Tell me why?”

“I hate you for making me feel like this,” he told me, his anger dropping a notch.

“Like what?” I pressed. I leant forward, desperate for him to tell me.

Frank clutched his soaked T-shirt. “This,” he confessed.

I shook my head, at a loss.

“Like this,” Frank repeated desperately. The anger that had burst out of him only moments before had disappeared.

I didn’t move or speak as Frank searched frantically for the word in his head. I wished I had stayed in my bed. This boy is going to be the death of me.

“ This,” Frank muttered to himself.

I knew what he was trying to say. “Alive,” I provided and Frank’s head snapped up.

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “How did you know?”

I shrugged, not wishing to disclose the fact that I’d read his intern’s paper.

Frank shuffled forward and grabbed my hands. “I don’t know what it is about you. But you make me feel alive,” he said. “You’re like a drug. You make me forget. I look at you and I don’t see them. I see you. You’re like a drug,” he repeated. “My special drug. I don’t care what you did, Gerard. I don’t care,” he insisted and reached up to touch my bruised face. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, Gerard.”

It appeared Frank was on some kind of emotional rollercoaster and was saying everything that was coming into his mind. I didn’t dare say anything to him; I was too afraid I would say the wrong thing. I just wanted to hold him. He was barely a foot away. I could hold him. I wanted to hold him. I needed him.

Frank abruptly pulled away whilst I was mustering up the courage to reach out for him. My heart sunk from the bitter disappointment.

“I’m tired,” he said faintly and stood up. He walked out of the bathroom leaving me sitting stupidly on the floor.

I hated feeling like this. I felt like a fucking teenage girl with a stupid crush on a celebrity. It was consuming me. I couldn’t take the rejection any more. I just wanted things to go back to the way they were. For the sake of the little sanity I had, I needed Frank back.

I left the bathroom and headed back to my room. I lay down on top of the covers; my face throbbing rhythmically.

I hated my life.

I didn’t leave my room to go to breakfast until after 8am. I didn’t want to face the world. I hated the world and everybody in it, including myself.

But except Frank…of course.

Zach came over to me with my meds. He watched me put the pills in my mouth and take a swig of water. But then he left and I spat them out. I’m not fucking crazy. I don’t need to take these fucking anti-crazy pills. I hid the sodden tablets in my napkin and shoved them into my pocket. I’d been doing this for a while now and nothing bad had happened to me. I didn’t feel any different not taking the meds so I felt justified in spitting them out every morning.

No one needed to know.

I had just begun eating my cereal again when Frank appeared from nowhere holding a tray of food. I almost choked in surprise as he sat down opposite me. I didn’t understand what we were anymore. Were we friends or not? I mean, last night he did say he hated me, just moments before he told me I was his “drug.” Frank pushed the tray to the side and wrapped his arms around himself. I quickly swallowed my mouthful and waited, hoping he would speak first.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he murmured, not making any eye contact.

I nodded even though he wasn’t looking at me. I took another mouthful of cereal to avoid saying anything. Oh God, could this finally be the moment when things work out for me? I decided that maybe I should apologise for saying that shit about kissing and telling.

I gripped my spoon tightly as I prepared to speak. I was nervous that Frank had forgotten what I had said and all I was going to do was remind him. “I’m sorry for what I said,” I said quietly. “Yesterday. And all the other times.”

As soon as the word “sorry” left my mouth Frank began shaking his head. “I don’t care about that,” he said, a new bleakness apparent in his voice. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t know why I acted like it mattered. It doesn’t matter.”

He still hadn’t looked at me yet. I’m sure my face was scaring him off. I hadn’t had a chance to check out my bruises yet this morning and didn’t know how disgusting they looked. Still fucking hurts like a bitch. Fucking Bert. I swear if he shows up in here again and even looks at me I’ll knock his teeth out. I will. I’ll fucking mess him up. Nobody makes a fool out of me.

Frank and I lapsed back into silence and I began eating my breakfast again. It was the most disgusting cereal in existence; I don’t know why I chose it. I didn’t even know why I was eating. It hurt to move my jaw and that cut inside my mouth stung if anything came into contact with it. I wondered how long it would take the staff to notice that I’d stopped eating. Maybe I should start a protest. No eating until I get some answers about my head. If there was anything wrong with my head it would be a disaster. I have secrets that are pivotal to the survival of the human race in there. Literally. My secrets are not being adequately protected if I have brain damage like Markman alleged. Well, something must be wrong because she was pretty upset about something in there yesterday.

I decided to stop thinking about what had happened yesterday and focused my attention back on Frank. I was just going to ask him how he was feeling when he looked up at me for a brief second. Then as soon as that brief second was done, he averted his eyes and frowned at something behind me. I turned and looked.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

It was too late for me to leave. I should have known she was coming. I know things. She is the material representation of my doom. I should’ve known.

I quickly turned back around and waited. Ashamedly I was hoping she would just walk right past me.

But she didn’t.

Of course not.

I’m not that lucky.

“Hi, Gerard,” Lindsey said and sat down. She glanced at my face. “Whoa, that’s an impressive shiner,” she commented.

She did sound genuinely impressed. It made me feel quite proud. I wished I could see what Bert looked like this morning. I wished she could see what Bert looked like this morning. Then she’d be impressed. I may have only had the opportunity to hit him once, but I packed a lot of rage into that punch. It’s no good punching someone if you don’t make it count.

Lindsey produced a large folder from her oversized handbag and set it down on the table. “Now, Gerard, I need to go over some things with you before the others get here.”

My mouth went dry. “What others?” I demanded immediately.

Lindsey glanced awkwardly at Frank then looked at me. “Some gentlemen wish to conduct an interview with you,” she said quietly. “I asked the doctor to inform you.”

“Markman doesn’t tell me shit,” I snapped and folded my arms crossly.

Lindsey pursed her lips but didn’t comment. I glanced at Frank and he was watching Lindsey and myself very intently. I noticed he was biting his bottom lip quite fiercely, as if he was afraid of something.

“Shall we begin?” Lindsey asked and stared pointedly at Frank, dismissing him.

Frank and I exchanged a look. It was just like old times. Us against everyone else. God, I’d missed it. “Frank stays,” I said firmly.

Frank smiled into his lap. Not a full smile. It wasn’t an expression of his happiness. It wasn’t even directed at me, but I’ll take what I can get. I’d meant when I had said I was going to fight for him. Lindsey didn’t seem too perturbed by what I had said. She just shrugged and opened the folder. She pulled out a piece of paper which I saw was covered in hand-writing.

“Okay, Gerard. I’m going to –,” Lindsey began.

I decided to interrupt her before she got too far into her spiel. “What is this about anyway?”

She looked strangely uneasy. “Just some questions,” she said.

Frank and I exchanged another look. “Questions about what?” I pressed.

She hesitated in her answering, something that made me incredibly irritated. I hated that nobody around here told me anything. One day I’m going to fucking explode. Or even better, I’ll escape. Fuck, I’m looking forward to that day. It didn’t matter that I didn’t have any money. I’m pretty sure I’d figure something out.

“Your health,” Lindsey eventually replied.

That made my stomach ache. Maybe there really is something wrong with my head. I didn’t know what I was going to do if this whole brain damage thing turned out to be true. I didn’t know what it meant for the validity of my secrets. Fuck. I rested my forehead on the palm of my hand tiredly. I was extremely exhausted from lack of sleep and from the constant worrying about Frank. I was forever worrying about him. I know he suffered every single day. I know he was deeply scarred and incredibly depressed. I was afraid he would do something stupid. And if he did something stupid I would also do something stupid. And I promised myself I would never do that. Fuck.

I think the ‘others’ Lindsey was talking about arrived early because when Lindsey saw them walk in through the visitors entrance she swore. She did. Truly. She said, “fuck,” and threw all the papers back into the folder and slid them back into her bag. “I’ll be back,” she promised and marched over to the exit.

Frank and I both watched her leave; I was utterly disconcerted about the whole deal. I know Frank was feeling the same way; it was evident on his face.

“Do you think this is about, you know, Michael?” Frank whispered.

Hearing that name made me feel physically ill. It felt like someone was kicking me in the stomach relentlessly. The dread just weighed down on me, crushing my heart. I nodded regretfully. Of course it was about Michael. She was a fucking cutthroat lawyer. You needed someone like that when you’ve killed someone.

Frank looked extra worried now. He kept turning around and trying to get a good look at Lindsey and the others. I liked that he cared so much. It made me feel slightly less ill. I desperately hoped they hadn’t come to arrest me. I hoped they had come purely to ask me questions, as Lindsey had said. I can handle questions.

After about 5 minutes Lindsey began to make her way back over to Frank and I. Alarmed, Frank reached out and clasped my hand. “Come and find me,” he ordered. “As soon as you’re done, come and find me.”

I nodded. It was at this moment that I knew that Frank and I were friends again. Right now. Frank was worried about me. It meant he cared.

“You need to come with me now, Gerard,” Lindsey asked. I withdrew my hand from Frank’s grip and stood up unhappily. Here I go to my doom. I followed Lindsey out of the cafeteria and into one of the visiting rooms. There were already three men in the room who all studied me intensely as I entered. A split second after I saw the three men I noticed the camera trained on the lone seat behind the table.

Fuck no. This is fucking stupid. I will refuse to do the interview or interrogation or whatever the fuck it is. This is an invasion of my privacy. There are already cameras in the fucking ceiling!

“Take a seat, Gerard,” one the men asked, indicating to the lone chair. I didn’t like him. His moustache was annoying me. It looked ridiculous.

I sat down tentatively and glared at all three men in turn – moustache man, stupid tie man and annoyingly good-looking man. I have a strong feeling this is going to be a disaster.

“Shall we begin?” Moustache man, who I assumed was the person running this show, said.

“No,” I muttered, louder than I had intended.

The moustache man ignored my wishes. “Can you tell me who you are?”

What the fuck? He had said my name about 120 seconds ago. He knew who I was. I glanced to Lindsey and expressed my annoyance. She frowned and nodded, telling me to answer the question.

“Gerard,” I said.

“Gerard who?”

I opened my mouth but no answer came out. I hesitated for a second. Gerard who? Gerard…..fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I don’t know. How do I not know my last name? Why don’t I know that? Oh God, there is something wrong with my head. Gerard…..? Gerard what? Panic began to rise in my chest. I glanced between the three men who were all still studying me with great interest. I swallowed.

“Gerard?” the moustache man prompted.

I shook my head and wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. I turned to Lindsey and hoped to God she could help me. “I don’t know,” I whispered. I don’t know why I whispered. Everyone could hear what I was saying. “I don’t know,” I repeated, slightly panicky.

“Perhaps we should move on,” Lindsey said smoothly.

Moustache man frowned. “How old are you, Gerard?”

I knew that one. “Nineteen.” The fact that I was able to answer the question calmed me down. My heart rate dropped slightly.

“Good. What did you have for breakfast yesterday?”

“Um, cereal.” What kind of a question is that?

“What’s your mother’s name?”

I blinked. I didn’t know. I couldn’t even think of what my mother looked like. I wiped my increasingly sweaty palms on my jeans again. I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t know. I looked to Lindsey again, desperate for her to rescue me. She looked extremely worried and concerned. I shook my head at her again. “I don’t know,” I hissed.

“What’s your father look like?”

My voice actually trembled as I replied, “I don’t know.”

The three men all exchanged looks. They thought I was faking. I wasn’t fucking faking! I don’t know! Alright? Are you happy?

“What was your pet’s name?”

“I don’t know.”

Where were you born?”

“I…don’t know?”

“What was your favourite movie as a child?”

I didn’t even bother replying. I don’t know. I can’t remember. The panic began to rise again. The three men even began to argue. I wasn’t listening to what they were saying. I was too scared. My brain was failing. My brilliant brain was broken. My memory was gone. They must’ve stolen it. I can only remember events that date back to less than three years ago. All my memories are of being in this place. It must’ve been them. That time when they cut open my head. I thought I had managed to escape with everything – all my secrets – intact. They hadn’t tried to steal my secrets, no, that wasn’t their intention. They had stolen my memories. Everything. All gone.

“Oh, God,” I choked out. I stood up, knocking the chair over backwards behind me. “I need to leave.”

The stupid tie man stood up with me. “Sit back down,” he ordered. I did. Immediately. I was afraid.

Lindsey seemed to explode. “How dare you speak to my client like that,” she raged at stupid tie man.

“This is a Federal Investigation!” he raged back. “I am a Federal Agent. You will not speak to me like that!”

“I will speak to you in whatever manner I deem fit,” Lindsey snapped.

The good-looking man joined in the argument. That was when I tuned out. I couldn’t do it anymore. He had said this was a federal investigation. That was bad. I didn’t want to go to prison. I couldn’t. I would get eaten alive. I don’t know why I killed Michael but I know I didn’t mean it. I thought about trying to explain that to the moustache man. Would I be announcing my own guilty verdict if I admitted it?

I felt like crying. I really did. Ever since yesterday when I discovered there was something wrong with me. I know that crying is weakness and there was no way I was going to cry in front of these bastards. But it all just hurt so much. The constant debilitating guilt over what I had done, the stress over Frank, the fact I had no memories and now the fear that these men had come to take me away. I pushed myself away from the desk and stood up. I was leaving.

No, I wasn’t. The moustache man ordered me to sit back down. What the hell was with all the ordering today? “Fuck off,” I spat at him but he was unperturbed. I threw myself back into the chair and rested my head in my hands. I shut my eyes and tried to calm myself down.

“Look at him,” Lindsey exclaimed. I assumed she was talking about me. “He is not fit to be exposed to such circumstances. You are harming the health of my client.”

“Your client is fine,” tie man said arrogantly.

No I’m not! I’m a fucking wreck. I was feeling physically ill again and nauseous. I really hope I don’t throw up.

“Gerard,” Lindsey said, “don’t answer any more questions, alright? Don’t say another word.”

“You cannot tell your client that!” tie man shot back. “I have a court order to gauge the mental state of the accused.”

I could only hear what was going on but I knew there were a lot of angry gestures. But as soon as tie man said the word ‘accused’ I knew I was in trouble. I’d actually been charged with a crime. I was going to prison.

“Do not call him that!” Lindsey sounded extraordinarily angry. “He is just a boy.”

“No, he is a murderer, Ballato!”

My head snapped up and I stared at the tie man in horror. Silence descended on the room. It was a terrible, bone-chilling silence. Everyone knew that last sentence should not have been said. My eyes filled with tears but I hastily wiped them away.

“I’m sorry,” I choked out, the panic and fear clenching around my throat like a pair of hands. “I…I didn’t mean…. I didn’t. It was an – an – an accident. I’m….”

Lindsey shot to my side. “Shhhhh!” she hissed, drowning out my feeble apologies.

The realisation seemed to strike all three men at the same time. “You remember!” Handsome man accused, brandishing his finger at me fiercely.

I shook my head but it was too late. All three of them were exchanging gleeful looks with each other. Things suddenly began to move very quickly from that moment. Moustache man snatched up the camera and shoved it back into the bag. Handsome man made a comment about why he always voted Republican and tie man just studied my petrified face. Barely five minutes after my confession they were ready to leave. “See you in court, Ballato,” the tie man said smugly and all three men exited the room.

I turned to Lindsey. “I don’t want to go to prison,” I said.

She shook her head. “You won’t go to prison,” she replied.

“Then where?”

“Greenwood,” she said shortly and looked away.

Fuck that. There was only one thing to do.

I didn’t realise I had been walking towards Frank’s room until I was standing in front of his door. I didn’t even remember how I managed to leave the interview room. I slipped inside Frank’s room and shut the door. I wasn’t going to cry. I felt like it, but I refused to. I was supposed to be the strong one. You can’t have two broken people in a relationship.

As soon as Frank saw my face he himself went pale. He knew it was bad. He knew what I had done. He walked over to me and silently wrapped his arms around me, burying his head in my chest. I wrapped my arms around him, never wanting to let him go.

I was going to get out of this place. I was going to run away. There was no way I was going to let them take me away. I was going to escape.

“Come with me,” I breathed to Frank.

He looked up at me. “Where?”

“Away from here.”

Frank pressed his face back into my chest. “Okay,” he said, his voice muffled.

I was going to escape.

And Frank was coming with me.