Lindsey. Time to find out her fate. Gerard gives Frank a prep talk. (It's the year marking of Bob's departure, y'all.)
So, now you know who the killer is, who the hallucination girl is, so what's Lindsey's secret?
Yep, a year from day, Bob left My Chem.
Lindsey was pulled back, just as they were about to approach her. Her eyes closed instinctively.
A gloved hand from a faceless woman reached out for her. Palm open as a friendly gesture. She had liquid blue eyes that shown hollowly, as if she had sold her soul. With nothing else on her porcelain face but a soft line that stretched into a ghost closed lip smile. The others had halted behind her, she seemed to be the unspoken queen.
Lindsey was flung backwards, as if a tumble weed hurdling across the dry, cracked dessert. Her back bent forward at horrible angles, the world around her blurring into varying shade of black, white, and gray, mixing together. The wind flew past her, biting her, chilling the bare. Freezing her arms as they were jerked. The only way she could describe it was, that she was falling up. Maybe not literally, it was to hard to tell. But it defied everything. She felt like she was being pulled by her middle. It felt like being grazed by gravel. Silent shrieks slithered from her tinted lips. She cringed.
Lindsey slammed back to Earth, hitting the closest wall. Her arms flew out and her head banged against the white wall.
Stepping away and into the shadows of an operating room, illuminated by only one fluorescent light. There was a flurry of doctors bustling around. She realized impartially that the body they swarmed around was hers.
"We're losing her!" someone shouted in a panic, as Lindsey watched from the fringe, distantly.
And like a clap of thunder, she was thrown forward.
Gerard walked along the corridors, thoughts roaming. There was an underlying generic happiness to his thoughts. 302, 302, 302, three-oh-two, he kept telling himself as he almost skipped to his destination. Lindsey was sleeping steadily still. She never woke from the E.R., which meant she had yet to hear the good news.
It was nearly three in the morning as he rounded the corner to her room, returning with his styrofoam cup of coffee. He plopped down on the arm chair that doubled out into a makeshift bed. Apparently the maternity ward expected a lot of overnight fathers.
Lindsey was already awake when he got back. Her eyes staring alertly back at him. Not much like a person who had just woken from a long slumber.
She stared at him in silence for minutes. Finally she turned to him. Curled up against the one side of the bed, her knees pressed up against her chest.
"You were right. It's real." She stated.
"What is?" He asked, blinking confusedly.
"The black parade. Waiting. It's coming for you." she continued to stare at him with blank eyes.
The next morning the nurses came in and checked on her. She had to be careful of the staples holding together her stomach.
The nurse was suited up in bright purple scrubs with happy rainbows surrounded with puffy clouds. She had a happy smile that showed she was content with the world, even if the smile held a tired edge. A light pink bundle cradled sacredly in the security of her arms.
“She’s gorgeous.” The woman muttered softly, handing over the bundle to Lindsey, Gerard’s soft snores a background sound.
Encased and shrouded inside was a sleeping baby girl. So tiny, a preemie, her head covered in a striped cap with several black tuffs of hair pocking out, her tinniest of hands gripping the blanket she was snuggled inside. Lindsey stared down at the glow of warmth wrapped in her arms. Beautiful. Made her heart swell and her eyes prickle.
“What are you going to name her?” the happy go lucky nurse asked as she detached a clipboard from the end of the bed.
“Bandit.” Lindsey glowed.
After showing Lindsey the ropes of new motherhood, as she was about to exist the stuffy hospital room, the nurse piped up, “Is he the father?” she bite her lip in smile after asking.
Lindsey just smiled in return. Shaking her head moments later, she bit at the corner of her bottom lip.
Frank had had a great Spring Break. It had been a blast, with Mikey at his side almost every minute, almost like a really good big brother. The time had just flown by unlike how summers used to. They had done all kinds of crazy things and Frank thought he was lucky that Mikey hadn’t got him killed.
He had regained use of his right hand but still hand no arms. His mom was looking to try and get a motorized scooter chair that he could use, but it simply wasn’t in budget.
So yes, everything was mostly normal. Except Gerard.He was so out of sorts and frazzled.
What’s going on? He asked Gerard.
“Nothing.” Gerard said as he blew it off, dashing in way late, again.
Well, Frank wasn’t stupid and he clearly wasn’t buying that. He glared at Gerard and wished secretly, that he could cross his arms. That would add to the effect. But just as Frank was to smart to buy into Gerard’s lie, Gerard was too stubborn to answer. Which ended in a awkward silence bouncing off the walls. Not that Frank wasn’t always silent.
Gerard never knew what to teach Frank, now. Apparently the school was supposed to provide him with some type of materials, but they were either uncaring or taking their sweet time. Frank put his money on a little of both. Since Gerard was at a loss of what to teach, he usually just taught whatever spur of the moment thing. Gerard was good at spur of the moment things. He would jump back to whatever subject he felt like he hadn’t cover enough of, sometimes he would even teach health. Not often, he seemed to oppose it. Something about, ‘vices’. Whatever, Frank tried not to understand Gerard. Such was an impossible feet.
Today, Gerard pulled out a thick pad of paper, flicked through to the nearest blank page, and threw it into Frank’s lap.
“Art!” He grinned cheekily. Just the thought of it seemed to brighten Gerard. “I want you to draw something. I don’t care.” He explained lamely.
Oh, like that was a help. Frank pushed his yellow lined pad of paper away and took Gerard’s crisp white spiral bound under his palm.
He straight stared at it for minutes on end. As if staring at would give him all the answers, would have his hand turn lines and shapes into a pretty picture, would make everything flow from him through his fingers. No such luck, just made his eye twitch from all the staring.
Gerard was watching Frank, and he knew it. He started prompting Frank, giving him ideas.
Finally Frank gave up and decided to draw something simple, A dog. Just cute, cartoon like.
It was bad. So Bad.
It looked like something a three year old could draw. Probably draw better, too.
Frank sighed and clenched his hands into fists. Thing just never worked out for him.
Gerard walked over to him, put both hands on his shoulder, and smiled gently.
“Hey,” He said softly, looking right into Frank’s eyes. He wanted to look away put he couldn’t. “I don’t expect you to be good at drawing. You just barely learned how to write. It takes a long time. It takes practice. You haven’t had either. Don’t let this get you down, or anything, or anyone.”
He simply walked away, back to his desk, telling Frank to keep practicing.