Frank was tramatized when he was four by his father, ever since he has been paralyzed from the neck down. Everyone treats him like he a child. Will his new caretaker be different?
Frank sat in the room. Cold and musty as fucking always. Yeah he cussed. Oh, dear Lord, if only his mother heard. Oh, yeah that's right she can't. Frank thought bitterly to himself. Fucking mute!
It was just him, his fraying wheel chair, and the rolling chart tv, shoved in a brick room. And this was the school's way of accommodating to the 'special needs'
They can take their fucking nicely worded special needs programs and stuff it, Frank told himself. Everything sounds better on paper.
He was bored out of his mind, the only thing he had left anymore. There was nothing, nothing to do. The ancient device the shit-hole called a tv was playing Barney. Literally. Barney in Space or some shit. He'd seen so much Barney, that if he ever left this place, just the mention of Barney would make him puke.
Frank didn't love everyone, and neither should a creep in a dinosaur suit.
He was left with nothing. He'd already counted all the bricks in the, smaller-than-a-gas-station-bathroom, room. Huge bricks, painted mundane egg shell white. Fourty-nine to the right of Frank, twenty-seven to the left were the door was cut out, he couldn't count the wall in front of him because of the tv, and he certainly couldn't count those behind him. There was a dent in one of the bricks at Frank's eye level. He silently wondered if someone had tried to punch their way out. A pretty novel idea in Frank's opinion. As well as five pencil holes in the foam ceiling, in which he wished he could take credit for.
He rolled his head to the right and then to the left. Relishing the movement of the only thing he had control over.
There were no windows neither. It was like jail. Were there truly people so far into retardation, that this wasn't Hell?
The credits were rolling now. Oh, how thankful he was not to hear Barney's voice trill in his ears anymore. That voice would most definitely be burned into his mind for ever.
Frank started counting for something to do, or lack-there-of. He reached 2:29 when the bell tolled throughout the campus.
He heard the distant sound of lockers smacking all around him. Laughter haunting him, people trampling through the hall. A feeling he doubted he'd ever know. So carefree, and careless, ingrates.
The noise level died down. Frank started banging his head against the seat, he had been left slouching, whoever left him there had be uncaring.
A plump woman with blonde moussed 80's hair, and a blue sweater with Teddy Bears as pockets came to get him.
She smiled sickeningly sweet, her face dimpling. "Well, come on, Hon. Your momma's gonnna be here soon." She said in a southern draw.
If Frank could have, he would have groaned out in frustration.
She started wheeling him slowing towards the exit. So slow that, imaginary snails were passing them. He thanked God she was just a temp. His own caretaker Maestro Romoani had 'gone away and wasn't coming back' as their five year old way of telling Frank he'd died.
Frank knew it was going to happen. He just never figured so soon. The man had had cancer. As his cemo hair loss proved. He stumble upon the battle and lost the war. Frank wasn't all that shaken up by it, he had never felt anything more than forced companionship for the man.
As they rounded the corner, his eyes met that of his mother's. Even though his was a daily occurrence, he would never get over the happiness that filled his heart when he saw her.
She had a warm smile plastered on her face, the corners of her mouth could practically touch her ears. She had a folded blanket draped across her arms.
"Thank you, ma'am." she nodded at the woman behind Frank.
"Absolutely. Now, you, young man, have a good evening." she said condescendingly to him, with to awkward pats to his shoulder she was off.
Frank rolled his eyes.
His mom saw and teased, "Now you be nice to that lady. And no running her down with your wheel ether."
And that was why Frank loved his mother, apart from the whole unconditional love thing. She treated like a human being, a normal human being, well, as normal as he could be treated.
She draped the thin blanket around him.
"It fall now, baby. It's gettin' cold. I worry about you, ya know. I'm your momma, it's what I do."
She wheeled him out to their Cube. It was white and shiny still, despite the five years they'd had it.
She picked him up and set him into the car, and buckling him in.
She was a strong woman. She had to be, as a single parent, she'd been doing this twelve years now. Frank wanted to hug her, so tight, and never let go.
His mom came running back after stashing he wheel chair over the folded back seat grinning wildly.
"Guess what, Baby?"
He turned his head and looked at her, meating her gaze she she started the car.
"I rented the latest Saw movie. And I'm making your favorite for dinner pasta. I know this school has been stressin' you. So let's just have so fun tonight, okay? Maybe we can even watch all those old horror movies that've been collection' dust. A Gore 'athon till we pass out?"
Frank's eye flashed with happiness. So what if he didn't have any friends? He had his mother. And that was all he needed.
So I wanted to wait to post this until I had more chapters to ensure myself I would finish it. But now I don't want to, so.