Animals {Frerard}

One: Murder In The Dark

So hi, I guess. My name is Frank. Although you probably already know that, else you wouldn't be reading this. I'm a twenty-seven year old man with terrible hair and worse taste in music, but that's not important. This isn't about who I am now. This is about who I was.

I'd like to tell you that I'm writing this to inspire people, to try and change the world. But that wouldn't be the truth. I'm writing this as evidence. So that if I died tonight, at least someone would know what happened to me five years ago.

I can't bear the thought of this story being forgotten.

I was twenty-two and hopeless. Pretty much living off the state because I couldn't get a job. I had some money saved up off course, well, a little anyway but... I wasn't in the best place. My life was a disaster. A failure. Until I met a man with colourful dreams and a jet black heart.

So this is my story. It's not paranormal, there's no aliens, no demons or dragons or magic, (I'm not a complete nutjob) but it's still pretty unbelievable. It's true though. All of it.

So read this, all of it. And maybe then you'll understand why I'm like this. Because lets face it: I'm not exactly normal. Not even before I met him.

~-~-~

It's cold, and the alleyway dark, houses casting deep shadows on the mottled concrete. The walls are smooth and icy, yet in the thin, broken light, look as though they're stained with a dark liquid. The scent of burning saturates the air and accompanies the acid taste of petrol in my mouth. The taste of alcohol still lingers in my mouth and I sweep my tongue over my teeth, trying to cleanse it.

I'm only wearing a thin coat over my t-shirt and jeans as I walk home, tired from the long, awkward night out. Social interaction isn't really my thing and I'm impatient to get home. Maybe I would have a couple more glasses of beer tonight. Try to wipe the memory of my total and complete awkwardness in front of my "friends"

The night is creepy, almost sinister, not helped by the fact that my mind is blurry from the six glasses of wine that Ray's girlfriend, Maria had payed for.

My walk is slow and staggering, my feet heavy. I feel as though I am moving through honey.

I prick my ears. It sounds like a pebble being accidentally kicked along the road. A muted scraping noise from behind me.

I hurry through the narrow street, glancing behind me, sure that I'm being followed.

I swear that I can hear footsteps echoing behind me.

Turning a sharp right, my feet almost trip over themselves as they struggle to navigate the floor at the pace I'm going. My hand clenches and relaxes repeatedly, independent of the rest of my body.

Why am I so nervous? Why do I think someone's tailing me. I'm paranoid, that's all. There's no-one behind me.

My thoughts are fluttering around my brain as I think about everything that could happen to me tonight.

What if someone is following me? It could be a mugger. Or a thug. Or worse.

I take a deep breath. It's either my imagination or some homeless person begging for cash. I have nothing to be afraid of. I need to stay calm. Not panic.

Yet a quiet voice creeps into my mind. What if they're trying to kill me? They could be right behind me at this very moment.

I speed up even more, hearing a sharp intake of breath only metres behind me.

"Get lost," I whisper into the empty air, knowing that only the monsters in my imagination are listening.

I walk the rest of my journey not saying a word, sure that I'm about to be attacked at any moment. It takes all of my willpower not to break into a run, but I'm not sure my heavy sluggish limbs can move that fast.