murderer - frerard

[009]

Christina decided it would be best for everyone to go around the circle and state their name, age and a fact about themselves. I thought it was rather stupid, actually.

Thankfully, she started at the other side of the circle, and I would be one of the last to go. I wasn't listening. I didn't give two shits about these kids with mental problems. I wasn't like them. My brain was just fine; I was just a little sad sometimes.

The person next to me shifted uncomfortably as it came near time for them to introduce themselves. I glanced up for a moment. I didn't know them.

"My name's Abby...and, uh, I'm fourteen," They squirmed a little, "I'm genderfluid."

That was actually kind of interesting, I thought wearily before it registered that it was my turn.

"Oh! Frank, I'm glad to see that you turned up this week! Why don't you introduce yourself?"

Why don't you shove a cactus up your ass?

I stared at my lap and felt my cheeks burn red. "I'm Frank," I forced out through clenched teeth. I decided that coming to therapy wasn't the best idea after all.

"And how old are you Frank?"

I looked up at the bitch menacingly. "I'm nineteen." My eyes fanned over the circle for the first time. They fell upon a skinny boy sitting a few chairs over, picking at his fingernails. No. No. This wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to be here.

"Can you tell us something about yourself?" It pissed me off. I wasn't a fucking child. Christina didn't have to treat me like one. I shook my head and began to fumble around with my fingers until I heard him say his name.

"Michael. Nineteen. I like naps." He was simple. I liked it, but it scared me. If he was this normal on the outside, I could only imagine what was going through his head. I knew what he was like. He'd knocked me unconscious more than once; he wasn't normal. No, not normal at all.

I couldn't deal with this. My palms began to sweat profusely and my mouth went dry. Mikey could potentially kill me in front of all these people. I didn't even know these people, but I sure as hell didn't want to be murdered in front of them. I think that if I were to be murdered, I'd prefer it to be in my own home. Alone.

I stood up, knocking my chair to the side. It didn't matter. I exited the room as quickly as I could, running into the bathroom and pressing my body against the door. If he followed me here, he could kill me.

I sat on the floor in front of the door for a long time. I didn't know how long I'd been there when I heard a knock above my head.

"Frank?" Oh, hell. It was Mikey. "I need to pee, can you let me in?"

He sounded normal. He sounded like a regular person. I shuddered. "No," I said loudly.

"Dude, are you scared of me or something?"

Of course I'm fucking scared of you! Do you not remember what you've done to me?!

"Uh," I stuttered, leaning forward. Mikey pushed from the other side of the door, sending me scooting forward in what would have been a comical fashion had I not been freaking the hell out. He stepped inside and stood in front of me.

"How come I haven't seen you here before?"

"I gave up on myself a long time ago," I sighed, not looking up at him. I reckoned if I didn't see him, maybe I could calm down. Maybe he wasn't real.

"Christina seems to know you pretty well."

"And?"

"Nothing."

"Why are you here?" But I knew fully well why Mikey was here. He probably needed therapy if he had murderous tendencies.

"I, uh, I don't think that's much of your business. I don't even know you." That shocked me. You should know me, dumbass, I thought bitterly.

"I'll tell you why I'm here," I proffered. I could make something up.

"I have hallucinations," Mikey said quickly.

"Anxiety." Simple. Effective. But I was learning about Mikey. I would make sure to find out what was really wrong with him as long as he didn't try to bash my head in or something.

ok hello i keep meaning to tell you guys that frank's mom is not a drunk or some shit. she's a nurse !!!

also is anyone actually liking this fic lmao

-abby