FicWad

Hey guys, this is chapter one of my new story :D :D I’m actually quite excited about this one…to all of you who auditioned, thank you so much, I’m really sorry you didn’t get it, but I hope you’ll all enjoy it anyway :) I want to make clear that although this chapter is possibly a little spooky, and the story might involve vampires at some point xD, it’s not a horror story…but it is a frerard :P Right, so please let me know what you think…good and bad! R&R if you want me to continue, and….enjoy xD

Chapter One

Frank’s point of view:

Glowering, gloomy grey clouds and a thick, damp mist that clings closely to the grimy window pane greet me as I throw open my blood-red bedroom curtains, the dull, foggy grey light seeping into the cluttered confinements of my room.
I sigh, stomach sinking as I gaze out into the overcast, murky Monday morning sky. Typical. Two full weeks of warm, golden spring sunshine, then the moment school starts again, it goes all damp and dreary, almost as if it’s just trying to emphasise the fact I’ve got another six weeks of hell in front of me.
Or ‘education’ as adults prefer to call it.
Personally, I don’t really see much difference.
Double maths, taunting remarks, sarcastic teachers, stereotypic cliques, avalanches of homework and strict uniform codes…not really my idea of a fun way to spend six hours every day.
I sigh again, walking across the CD cases, empty sweet wrappers and Kerrang! Magazines that litter the floor, to my desk, where I pick out the remains of my favourite red eyeliner and smudge it under my eyes with a slightly shaky hand. I slam the pencil down in frustration as my shaky hand accidentally smears scarlet all down my left cheek, making me growl in irritation.
It doesn’t make any difference; no matter how hard I try and pretend it doesn’t exist, I still can’t quash the horrible, fluttery bats swooping round my stomach, their giant wings tickling my innards uncomfortably, making my skin crawl, my heart thump, my hands tremble. No matter how hard I try, they’re still there; the fizzy sparks of panic that ignite up and down my spine, constricting my lungs, constricting my thoughts, constricting my life.
Anxiety.
Nothing I do makes it go away, nothing. That horrible, sickening, squirming feeling gnawing at my insides, every time I even think about leaving the comforting familiarity of my room, or even the house. The bats starts swooping and swirling faster and faster round my brain, too many and too fast for me to catch one, pin it down and study it, try to understand what it’s all about. Don’t get me wrong- I don’t like being at home, in fact, sometimes, I’d rather be being chased round the school sports field by and extremely angry Mr. Dagless brandishing a hockey stick, and trust me, that’s not something I’d want to experience more times than necessary. But much as I might want to leave the confinements of the house, every time I try, I panic.
Dad says it’s pathetic and weak, and it makes him ashamed of me.
The school counsellor says it’s perfectly common and many teenagers experience it.
Raven says not to worry about it so much- one day it will get better, but I should never give up.
Mom doesn’t say much. She doesn’t like to disagree with dad.
I don’t really know what I think about it, apart from the fact I wish it would go away. I have enough to contend with; being possibly the school’s biggest misfit, having so much homework, I’m sure if I piled it up, it would be at least the height of mount Everest, having an ever so slightly scary, stalkerish ex, having parents from hell, and at the same time, just wanting to relax and enjoy being an angsty, sarcastic, The Misfits obsessed, guitar loving, mentally challenged teenager, without having to worry about having a mini panic attack every time I open the front door.
My eyes fall to my bedside clock and I groan. It’s 8:15…twenty minutes until the gates of hell are unchained. Grabbing my schoolbag from under the bed, pulling my scruffy black doc martens on and grabbing my all-time favourite The Misfits hoodie off the back of the door, I take a deep, calming breath and reluctantly make my way downstairs to the kitchen.
“Morning sweetie.” Mom kisses my cheek as I enter the kitchen, her mousy brown hair tickling my cheeks.
“Mhm..morning..” I mumble, filling up the kettle. “Morning Dad.”
“Morning, Frank.” The man sitting at the head of the table says briskly, barely looking up from his newspaper. “So, fist day back to school after easter, eh? I hope- Frank?! What on earth is that you’ve got on round your eyes?!” he barks suddenly, throwing down his newspaper.
Ah. Yes. Let me introduce you to the pathetic excuse for a human being that is my father: control freak, son-hater and hypocrite.
“Eyeliner.” I sigh resignedly, knowing a lecture is on it’s way.
“And why in god’s name would you want to wear that?” Dad growls, raising his eyebrows.
I shrug, and calmly get the milk carton out of the fridge, trying to ignore the tiny needles of anger that are starting to prickle my insides. I won’t let him win. I won’t show him he gets under my skin.
“Don’t shrug at me, I asked you a question!” Dad snaps irritably.
“I like the way it looks.” I mutter through gritted teeth, getting a box of cheerios out of the cupboard and bashing them down harder than I’d intended on the table.
“And why, may I ask, do you like looking like that?” Dad asks tightly.
I shrug again, trying to stay calm and pouring myself some cheerios. “Just do.” I say monotonously.
“Frank! Why would you want to look like some kind of disgusting emo fag?!” Dad snarls, his cutting words slicing through me more painfully than any real blade would.
I still stay silent, but I carry on pouring the cheerios until they flow over the rim of the bowl and onto the tablecloth, the fury more vicious stabs than tiny pinpricks now, making my hand tremble, not, for once, with anxiety, but with suppressed rage instead.
“Frank!” Dad shouts angrily.
I slam the cereal box down, rage flooding through me as I slam my way out of the house, grabbing my schoolbag on the way, trying to keep my face indifferent, as if I don’t care, when inside, I’m trembling. Trembling with hurt and white-hot anger that floods over me, curdling and clashing with the fluttery anxiety like oil and water.
I suddenly realise I’ve managed to leave the house without having a mini panic attack for the first time in weeks…feeling that angry just seems to eclipse all other emotions. I guess maybe I have something to thank Dad for after all.
The familiar street is eerily silent in the early morning, thick, murky mist, it’s ghostly fingertips creeping round me, icy cold, making me shiver slightly and huddle into the comfort of my hoodie. The town seems utterly deserted and soundless, almost as if the lingering, damp fog has absorbed all the life, the town shrouded in it’s bone-chilling ambiguity.
I leave the deserted, deadened street and take my usual shortcut through the woods. They’re the kind of wild, rambling woods with tall, spindly trees and steep banks either side of the natural pathways, the forest floor dry and earthy, littered with decomposing russety leaves the whole year round. The leafy canopy overhead is so dense that there is little room for light to creep in, even in the brightest sunlight, let alone on a day like this. The light is permanently a fresh, leafy green, and today, when there is no sunlight to percolate the dense foliage above, it is dull, dark and dank, the slow, swirling mist creeping round the damp, mossy, ivy-entwined bark of the spindly trees, condensing at the top, copious and murky; a thick, grey fog obscuring the sky. I can barely see in front of me…my claustrophobia descends, trickling through my veins and mingling with the irrational anxiety, feeding it.
Stop suddenly, the familiar resounding crunching of my scruffy shoes trampling the rotting leaves underfoot ceasing, leaving the forest utterly silent and still, as I stand, frozen to the spot, the icy mist seeping through my hoodie, chilling me right to the bone.
Then suddenly, there’s the noise of twigs snapping behind me, and I whirl round, getting the feeling there’s someone watching me.
The woods behind me are deserted…or the small part I can see that isn’t concealed by the grey satin mist. Nothing but spindly trees, spidery branches and sprawling bushes.
I’m about to breath a sigh of relief, when I hear it again, this time closer. My heart’s thumping so loudly I’m sure I can hear it’s panicked palpitations echoing off the trees surrounding me. I spin round again and stop, my breathing shaky and irregular in the deafening silence.
Nothing.
However, my apparent solitude doesn’t reassure me…I still feel as if someone’s gaze is burning my back.
Breathing coming in panicky gasp, I turn round and start sprinting towards the edge of the forest, stumbling over the rambling ferns and looking nervously over me shoulder until I crash into something warm and solid, the collision knocking me to the leafy ground.
“Arggh!” I yelp, just about having a heart attack there and then. I look up, expecting to see an insane axe murderer or a enormous, man-eating, hairy monster or even a deranged, bloodthirsty cannibal brandishing a butcher’s knife. Instead, I’m met with the kohl-rimmed jade green eyes, curly, slightly messy purply red hair pulled into plaits and Bring Me The Horizon hoodie of Raven. Best friend, fellow misfit, and probably the most disorganised person I’ve met in my entire miserable existence.
“Hi Frank.” She smiles calmly, as if it’s a perfectly normal sight to see a terrified Frank on the brink of a heart attack sprawled on the ground before her.
“..R-Raven!” I pant, scrambling to my feet and brushing the dead leaves off my black skinnies. “Jeez, you fucking scared me!”
“I seem to scare a lot of people.” Raven says thoughtfully, helping me brush mud and leaves off my back.
“I wonder why..” I say sarcastically.
“Hey!” Raven says indignantly, flicking the mud she’s just wiped off my hoodie at my face. “I’m lovely!”
“Yeah, and I’m sure the first year you yelled at for wearing make up tested on animals would agree…and the one you terrorised in the canteen for being stereotypic..”
“Details, details.” Raven waves a hand dismissively as we set off down the path weaving its way out of the woodland.
“What are you doing here anyway?” I ask suddenly.
“I was gunna call at your house and walk you to school to make sure you didn’t skip.” Raven grins teasingly, shoving her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. “But it looks like there was no need…for once!”
“Hey, I never skip!” I say, mock indignantly.
Raven raises her eyebrows sceptically.
“Okay, okay, maybe I do occasionally…but I’d never ditch you on the first day back.”
“Glad to hear it, squirt.” Raven grins, nudging me playfully.
I’m about to retort, but there’s suddenly a crackle of twigs behind us again, and I whirl round, and out of the corner of my eye, see something black whip out of sight behind a gnarled old oak tree.
“…Frank?” Raven says cautiously.
“Let’s go.” I say, grabbing her arm. “Quick.”
I march us to the edge of the forest, where the winding path joins the damp, chewing-gum speckled pavement, not stopping until the gates to hell are finally in view.
I don’t think I’ve ever been relieved to see them before in my life.
*
“Fuck, I can’t believe I’ve forgotten my timetable!” Raven groans, practically upending her locker. The bell for first lesson has just rung, and once again, Raven and I are destined to be late, as usual, due to her scary powers of disorganisation.
“Well, I’ve got music first, which means you have too…we can worry about the other methods of torture later, yeah?” I say impatiently.
“Mmm?” Raven asks, emerging from her locker.
“You. Me. Music. Now.” I say, deliberately slowly and clearly, dragging Raven from her locker and towards the music block.
“Okay, okay!” Raven rolls her eyes as we start up the staircase, weaving in and out of the swarming mass of fellow students. “Since when did you like going to lessons anyway?!”
Generally speaking, I don’t. Music is the one exception- even Mr. Hallow and his dull, droning monotone cannot put me off my favourite subject. I love almost anything musical, piano, drums, flute, and especially guitar…there’s something calming, soothing about playing music…it makes me forget everything, forget my anxiety, forget my angst, forget everything, and it’s just me and the music.
“Frank?” Raven’s looking at me. I realise I must have spaced out.
“…Huh?”
“You were away on planet insanity.” Raven teases as we join the queue of chattering students lined up outside the music room.
“Hey, I miss my home!” I grin.
Raven rolls her eyes and grins too.
“In you go everyone, in you go!” Mr. Hallow’s reedy voice cuts through everyone’s chatter.
Many students groan, Raven among them. Although she loves playing her acoustic guitar almost as much as me, she can’t tolerate boredom, a side affect guaranteed with Mr. Hallow’s music class.
Mr. Hallow is striding along the corridor towards us, his suit, briefcase and expression immaculate as usual.
However, he is not alone.



Was it okay? R&R if you want me to continue :) Please tell me if you liked/ didn’t like it and why, and if I get enough reviews, I’ll carry on, yeah? Thank you all so much for reading :)

CosmicZombie xo

p.s. the title was inspired by a song called killing lonliness by HIM. :)