The Enigma's Anomaly

Fucking Swooned

Who fucking faints? What kind of loser fucking faints? I'm not some delicate lady back in the eighteen hundreds whose corset is too tight! I shouldn't faint. What kind of a loser faints anymore? I fucking swooned, which is aggravating.

I'd love to say I don't do an epic face plant, but the truth is that I don't know. I'm totally dead on my feet, I teeter a little bit and then I'm having a dream about Captain Malcolm Reynolds.

It takes me a little more than five minutes to convince myself to wake up, but I fucking need to. Hopefully my mind was playing tricks on me, but I'm no idiot. That douchebag of an assassin is a cop. A fucking cop? The next thing you're about to tell me is that Gerard's would-be murderer is a priest or a nun.

Like fucking hell, we're dealing with cops? Cops. As in law enforcement? As in a person who could arrest me just because they don't like my face? I mean obviously they'd have to let me go if they didn't have any other reason besides my face, but a cop could make my life mildly inconvenient.

I remind myself again to wake up, but sleeping is nicer. It's warmer, and I don't have to think as hard about it. It is really warm and it smells like Gerard's shampoo. Oh shit that is Gerard's shampoo.

By the time I realize that I've inadvertently started to wake myself up, it's too late. I'm conscious and my back hurts a little bit because this angle isn't pleasant. I open one eye and then two. It's really blurry, but I'm pretty sure that I'm sitting up on something painful. Once I blink away the grogginess from my eyes I see that it's a wooden bench pressed against the wall. I'm half leaning against the bench and half leaning against Gerard with his arm around me, and my head was probably tucked under his own head a second ago.

"Please tell me I did not actually faint," I say.

"No, you did. That really happened."

I sigh, "That's fucking degrading."

"What did you mean about that cop, Frankie?" Gerard asks, getting straight to the point. I don't really blame him, I did make a pretty cavalier accusation.

"That cop was one of the kidnappers. Unless he has an evil twin and we're apart of parallel dimension where Soap Opera's actually happen, which I highly doubt, then that guy was there in that car and that warehouse when I was kidnapped."

I look around a little more to see that we're still in the police station. People are walking around and no one looks twice at me or Gerard. I don't see the lady cop who was talking to us, but I also don't see mister-sadist man. I don't know if I should be happy about that or sad. For one thing, I fainted which probably made a scene, and with my luck, he saw me. If he saw me then he'll realize that I'm not dead. There's an even bigger number of reasons why we shouldn't have told the police then. On the off chance that mister-sadist man didn't already know I was alive, he almost certainly does now. I guess I should be glad he's not here now or I'd spend a night in lock up for attacking an officer. I'd be okay with that though. That bitch tried to kill me, it's the least he deserves, and I could really fuck him up.

If he knows I'm alive though that means he'll probably come after me again which I'm not too eager about. I don't think I'm going to be able to escape death twice like that. They'll have learned from their mistakes I'm sure.

"Frank," Gerard says and I feel him rest his forehead on my shoulder, but I don't turn to look at him, "do you realize how that sounds?"

"I realize how it sounds! I sound like I'm mental, but I am not making this shit up!" I say, with a mixture of anger and desperation.

"I'm not saying I don't believe you, because I do. If you say that that guy was there when you were taken then he was there, but do you realize that they're not going to believe us? He's a freaking cop!"