What happens when Frank goes to investigate the crying?
I creep farther inside my old front garden, shocked at how little it had changed. I sneak a look in threw the living room window, deeply saddened but not shocked by what I see. The room hadn`t changed much, not really, just like the garden. If I concentrated really hard, I could almost imagine Mikey sitting on the chair, the one he used to always sit on and in my head I could almost imagine us all sitting on the couch, watching the television. There had of course, been some changes, nothing stayed the same forever, and these changes were similar to the ones in the garden, painful. The walls were still the same colour, the furniture was the same, along with the TV, but all of the pictures I had drawn as a child had been taken down, the family portrait had been replaced by a picture of mum, dad and…Mikey. Stinging hot tears threatening to spill out of my bruised eyes, I inspect the room further. Sitting on the mantelpiece were dozens of pictures, just like there had been before our deaths, but the ones sitting there no were solely of Mikey. In fact, there was nothing of mine, or anything that was evidence that I had ever lived here. They didn’t want any reminders of how much a failure their eldest son was; I wasn’t surprised, not really.
I back away from the window, still desperately trying to force myself to not cry, I was not a child anymore, I was nineteen fuckin` years old. And you will be for the rest of eternity.I frown; the voice in my head would shut up if it was smart, as if I needed reminding of that fact. Most teenagers fear growing old, not wanting to get wrinkles and stuff, most of them, at least the ones from my school, would kill to be in the situation I was in. Not aging, that is, not the whole being dead/fallen angel bit. Ironic, eh?
I know I should be leaving now, I had only intended to stay for a minute or so, but for some unknown reason I can`t. I have no reason to want to stay here, the place my body had been found, the place I had called home for nineteen years…the place where I had been…purposefully…forgotten. The thing was though; I had nowhere else to go. There aren’t exactly hotels for dead people. I pull my jacket tighter around my shoulders, letting my body slide down the brick wall of the house.
I sit there on the grass, head in hands, dishevelled hair covering most of my pale, bruised face. It was just as well I guess, I was a mess. If anyone saw me they would probably run a mile, seeing the state I was in. I sigh, it wasn’t that different when I had been alive, even then I was unwanted, loathed by many for no reason. Well, they had their reasons, but they weren’t (in my opinion) valid ones. I don’t know how long I sit here, drowning in my own pool of misery and self loathing, but I know it is a long time.
Someone was there, a person, I don’t know who, but someone. They were the ones crying, those awful sobs, the ones that you only cry if you are in the worst kind of pain. I had to see what was wrong, help the person if I could. Why? I don’t honestly know myself. Don’t get me wrong I was a kind person, but helping crying strangers in the middle of the night wasn’t what I normally did. But I had a feeling about this, some kind of weird, feeling I couldn`t place. I glance at the clock on the wall; I hoped that my mother would be asleep by now. I pull on a pair of scruffy old trainers and open my window out as far as it goes, deciding not to risk going out the front door.
I was lucky, my room overlooked the back garden, and even better, a tree was just outside of the window. Whoever had planted it must have known it would one day be a great escape route for someone. I thank them silently, taking my time with my footing, not wanting to fall, and slowly descend down the tree. Made it. I silently reward myself as I feel the solid grass underneath my feet, glad to be back on the solid ground. Taking a deep breath I run around to the front of the house, and out into the deserted street without being caught.
It is colder out here than I had expected, but I couldn’t risk being caught going to grab a jacket, so I continue walking towards the Way`s house, stomach fluttering and heart beating so fast I feared it would burst out of my chest. The figure, I could tell it was a boy, maybe slightly older than me and most definitely taller, was hunched over, under one of the windows. His broken sobs had stooped now, but he was still crouched there head in hands, messy hair obscuring his face.
He lifts his head up to look at me, eyes full of shock.
W…what?” he croaks, wincing in pain as he tries to stand. Instinctively I reach over to help him, but he bats my arm away, our skin touching for the briefest of seconds. I flinch away, that…was weird. It almost felt as though I had been burned, or shocked.
He looks at me, seeming to be as frightened and confused by the odd sensation as I was. That meant he felt it as well, that I hadn’t imagined it, right?
“I…I`m Frank.” I introduce myself, wondering when I became so brave that I was talking to weird, slightly creepy strangers at night, outside the house where two people were found dead.
He just nods, and when I realises I`m not going to bet his name, I carry on. “I heard crying and, erm, wanted to see if you were…okay.” The stranger just stares at me, greeny hazel eyes, unblinking, illuminated by the street lamps.
“Are you okay?” I ask, hoping he was, even though I didn’t know him. I guess I was kinder than I had realised. No answer.
“W…what are you doing here?” I ask a different question, hoping for an answer this time.
Shit!shit!shit! Someone had seen me, worse still they had started talking to me! They couldn’t know who I was, I was dead. They would think they had seen a ghost or were going crazy. I don’t make a sound or move, as the person approaches me cautiously, as though not to spook me.
“H...hello?” i lift my head, though not out of choice. It was as though something was controlling my moments instead of my brain. I struggle to get to my feet, and he reaches out to help steady me. Shit, why did he have to do that? I feel a weird sensation on the skin that had briefly touched his, maybe a burning sensation or an electric shock.
“I…I`m Frank.” Well shit. It was him, the new kid who I had seen with Mikey last year, the one who I had fell madly in love with, without ever speaking to him. The most beautiful guy I had ever seen was standing in front of me. It would have been fine a year ago, when I was still alive! I could only hope that because of the dark he didn’t recognise me.