New locations and bad decisions!
"We're going to Mexico." I announce to Frankie, once we're at the airport. I've never been to Mexico, but I think Frankie might like it. And I've got a job here. I usually try not to go to warm places, but I'll deal with the heat just fine.
"Why?" He asks.
"Because I have a job to do." I shrug. I killed my last job yesterday. I should be fine for a while.
We get off the plane, a good 13 hours later, and I realize I'll need to kill someone, soon.
I rent a sleek black Ducatti, and strap Frankie and my bags to the back of it.
"You got...a motorcycle? That has to be the sexiest thing ever not alive." He mutters the last part. So he goes for biker chicks, does he?
I grin. "We're going to a tourist resort. And well...I thought you might like it." I get on the bike starting it up. By now I think Frankie's realized running would be stupid. I'd find him.
I motion for him to get on behind me, and he does, fluently, like he's done it many times before. Ducatti's are generally meant for 1 person, make shift for two, so he has to wrap his arms around my waist to hold on. Yet another reason to rent a motorcycle. Soon I realize Frankie's closer to me than expected, really only a few layers of cloth separate our skins, as he hugs his arms around me.
Frankie shifts ever so slightly, sending a shiver down my spine. I hope I don't get too distracted. I slowly start speeding the bike, and Frankie hugs onto me tighter, pulling us ever closer, as if trying to suffocate the clothes between us.
"Mr. Way, Mr. Iero." A servant of the 5 star resort says, showing us our room. Rooms, really. There's a huge balcony, three bedrooms each with king sized beds, and two TV rooms. Every room has a Tv, and there's an office, complete with a computer.
There's AC, I realize. Thank God for Air Conditioner. Without it, in my long sleeves and jeans, I would be toasted. Quite literally.
"I'm going out." I tell Frankie, who's already re-dressed in shorts and a T-shirt.
"In that?" He asks, eyes wide and eyebrows all over the place. Is it really that weird to be dresses in boots, skinnies and a long sleeved black shirt in Mexico during the summertime?
Yes. Yes it is.
"Yes. Leave this room and I will kill you. I've had any internet with chat rooms blocked." I inform him.
"I won't be able to go out, but at least I can read fan fiction." He replies sarcastically.
"Don't be silly. Most of those sights you can review or chat on." I reply, leaving without another word.
As soon as the door is shut, I full on run out of the resort, take the bike to a town over so I can kill. I can feel the impatience of my body, and it's not all that pleasant. I need to hurry up.
I quickly find a target- a lone, latino girl. Walking alone down a narrow and unlit pathway between two stores at a mall. I grab her hair from behind, clamping my hand over her mouth, dragging her back into my chest.
I feel adrenaline pump through my body and hers, and pretending to be a vampire, I bite down on her neck. Hard. I can feel her try to scream, break free, but I don't let her go, I can already taste blood in my mouth. She tries to wiggle away to no avail as I bite through her muscle and nerves, tears streaming down her cheeks, blood streaming down her chest.
I throw her to the ground, and I grab her head, slamming it to the ground. I hear a gut wrenching crack and I know she's dead. I can still taste her blood in my mouth.
I lick the blood off my lips, and try to get it off my face with my sleeve. The blood tastes sweet, and has a slightly sickening quality to it, not something I can understand why anyone would want to get used to. It has a disgusting quality that sticks to my tongue, clogging my throat. It almost makes me gag, it's so awful, the way it's warm on my tongue with the gone life force of the girl. The audacity of it as it explores my mouth like water would, like another's tongue would...Frank... I look back at the Latino girl, something known as guilt entering my brain for the first time.
FRANK POINT OF VIEW
Gerard comes back to our room, an hour after he left, sweaty, with the remenants of something red smeared on his face.
"What's on your face?" I ask. He freezes, eyes wide.
"Erm...Nothing." He says, his face portraying the utmost guilt.
"Fon't lie to me." I say, jumping up from the couch I was lounging on, walking over to him.
"Stop asking me questions, I'd hate to see you cry."
I gawp at him. "You killed someone? I thought you didn't like killing people!" I yells at him, feeling betrayed somehow.
He shrugs. "I'm who I've got to be."
"Don't give me that shit. A cold blooded killer? That's not you! I've held you while you cried! You have emotions, Gerard! Then you go and kill people, like it means nothing, erasing all understanding I have of you!" I yell at him.
"It doesn't mean nothing to me, but I am a cold blood killer. Why should loving my family change anything? Crying in front of you was a mistake!" He yells back, looking more than slightly distraught.
"It doesn't make sense! Nothing about you makes sense!" I yell in frustration.
He looks me over a moment. "You're trying to figure me out, aren't you?" He asks calmly.
"I-yes." I say, surprised by his sudden change in tone.
"Well don't." He frowns, storming into his room and slamming the door.
GERARD'S POINT OF VIEW
Frankie has no right to lecture me! He knows nothing about me, about why I kill! Not about my situation, my needs, my desires...
Because you won't tell him. A voice in my head argues.
I can't tell him, he's starting to semi-relax around me. I don't want to scare him with my ugly secrets, sending him running down the halls screaming for help!
He wouldn't do that. He's to logical. He thinks you'd kill him.
Yeah, I suppose that's true. But I've never told anyone why I do what I do. I have no reason to start now.
You're just worried he'll know everything about you and still think you aren't human anyway.
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
Admit it. You don't even believe your actions are justified, and you don't deserve to be around someone so perfect.
mY brain is probably right. I'm not worthy of Frank. He's so beautiful, so innocent, so trusting. And I'm... I'm dirty, have an ever growing amount of blood on my hands, the farthest thing from innocent imaginable and can't bring myself to share a secret with anyone.
It's despicable, really. I should just die...NO, I can't. I've been down this road before. Even if I die, someone else will be forced to fill my shoes.
I'll just have to live in awe of the beautiful boy I hold unwillingly captive, disappoint him by killing again. And again. And again.