Gerard's a killer, Frank's smokin'
Much like a first kiss, as first kill sticks with a man. The soft curve of her spine as she doubled over, her wide eyes and pale, pale skin, dotted with crimson and rouge, the crunch under his boot as the first, second, third kicks were dealt, the touch of her soft lips to his as she let out her last breath. And then after, once he was done and she was finished, her slumped form resting peacefully against his bedroom radiator.
It’s something he thinks about often, when he’s lay awake at night, a small smile flirting with his lips. He can still feel that puff of Co2 inside of him. That part of her will always be with him, will always be his.
Frank has three favourite places to smoke on school grounds. He knows more, even off the top of his head, but there are three in particular that he fancies over the rest. Ray isn’t as fussy but, well, Frank wants to remember pleasant views of duck ponds and forests when he’s dying of lung cancer and reflecting on all the terrible life choices he’s made. So mostly, they go to one of three spots.
The easiest to get to, and there by default, the one they smoke at the most, is around the back of the school, past the bike shed but before the small cops just beyond the school grounds. This spot makes Frank feel like he’s getting some air, clean and energizing even as he sucks down his cancer sticks. The only problem with this spot was the flooding in the winter and fall months, when it rains so hard even the trees can’t catch all the moisture and so the mud and water flowed down to soak Frank’s All Stars and dirty the bottoms of his school slacks.
The smell had stuck around the house for weeks, and after a while, he knew this would be a problem. He’d cleaned all of her out after the first few days, after his initial sketches had been mapped out, but a week later and her stench was still lingering, putrid and rotting. The air freshener wasn’t working as well as he’d hoped, merely masking the crime with pine trees and lemon without doing anything to get rid of the gruesome stink. And so he’d had no choice but to get down onto the carpet, with a sponge and bucket of bleach, to scrub her out.
It was strange. He almost felt he missed it after it was gone. It was too much of a risk though, keeping her scent around like that.
The second place isn’t too far from the first. However, it is a lot harder to get to on account of the teacher’s staffroom window guarding the way to get there. It was nice enough though, especially in the winter where the angle of the school blocked most of the icy wind and sheets of rain. Plus you can still see the forest from this spot even though the marsh water never reaches your trainers. It might have been Frank’s favourite place to smoke, if it hadn’t been for the teacher’s lounge.
Still, he goes there as often as he can, his need for a hit helping him wheedle past the staffroom window most days.
The second kill was a little more forgetful, or as forgetful as a loss of life can be. It was more of an accident than anything, he thinks, when he does actually think about it. He doesn’t spend much of his time considering that girl, he can’t even be sure of her name anymore, Abby? Annie? He thinks she screamed a lot, but then so did a lot of his kills, so he can’t be sure he isn’t mixing her up with the third or fourth girl.
The first boy he killed though, that was something special.
The third place wouldn’t even be on his list if it wasn’t for the duck pond. It’s too open to be anything but dangerous but he likes watching the new-borns in the spring, splashing and waddling away from him whenever he gets too close. He thinks he’d quite like to remember their little beaks and quacks and their protective Mama duck when he’s old and dying in a hospital bed. Probably with Ray laying in the next bed across, dying of liver failure or a heart attack or something equally as mundane.
It’s here too, that he can see his school’s caretaker, if he times it right, which he normally does.
The boy had screamed a lot too. He remembered it had surprised him at first. The kid was usually such a sweet little stoic thing. That was actually part of the reason he’d chosen him in the first place. Or at least it was in the beginning. That and his eyes; bright copper and hazel, glittering across the pond everyday. He was beautiful.
He’s too old for Frank, he knows that. But he’s pretty is the thing, and Frank doesn’t know many pretty people. He never speaks to him, not that Frank really speaks to anyone much, apart from ray. And Bob sometimes, he supposes, though only on those rare occasions when he’s actually invited to parties. Frank’s not really bothered about being invited to parties.
He’s a pretty simple guy, as far as he’s concerned. He likes smoking and his X Box and porn and the cute caretaker guy he watches from his smoking zone by the ducks.
He remembers the first time he had met the boy. He’s seen him around quite a bit, just like all the other kids at his school. Initially, he hadn’t viewed him as anything particularly special, nice to look at, always smoking. However the first time they spoke, that memory still gives him butterflies.
The boy had been standing alone, staring wistfully out across the school grounds with a cigarette clamped between his fingers. He was skinny with brown hair and baggy slacks, all of his uniform, in fact, hung gracelessly off of him. He didn’t think much of telling him to put his cigarette in the bin once he was done. But the way he had looked at him, that hopeful sparkle of wanting in his eyes is something he thinks about often. More often than maybe he even thinks about the first girl. He’d known then that it was to be the start of something epic.
AN so this is something else I wrote a while ago while on holiday and I finally bothered to type it up for you guys. I know it’s short and kind of doesn’t make too much sense but whatever, I had fun with it.