The Enigma's Anomaly

A New Turn of Events

"Hurry up, Frank!" Gerard yells.

"Give me a minute!" I holler back at him.

"I've given you three hours, just hurry your ass up! I want to go," he complains for the millionth time. Really, I should be the one complaining, but he's an annoying little bastard who cares way too much about me.

"Need I remind you that I fucking died Gerard," I say, "for like a whole minute."

"Oh you're exaggerating it was only a few seconds."

I stick my head out of the door to look at him with narrowed eyes, "and how many times have you died, Gerard?"

"Touché."

"But he's not wrong, Frank. We've been waiting for like hours," Mikey complains. He's got his body laying across the hood of the car looking jaded from the long wait.

"You could help," I spit at him, "I've got a bullet hole in my chest and you're being entirely unhelpful."

"I'm not that desperate to go that I want to exert energy," Mikey says, not moving.

"I'll help," Gerard says running over to me and he grabs the suitcase in my hand. I've been trying to underplay the whole bullet thing for the past few weeks because it makes Gerard worry, but it still hurts like a bitch. I can't move my arm without feeling it, and it stings to have to lift things with my right arm. My left arm isn't to great either, but it's working better then it's counterpart.

At least the stitches are out though because they'd have made this almost impossible. I'm still getting sick of being so weak.

"You okay, Frankie?" He asks me as he takes the luggage from me which makes me sigh in relief.

I frown at his question. The one time I let it show that I'm in pain and he's already gotten to worrying. I hate all this babying I've been getting. I like that Gerard wants to take care of me, but I'm not six. If it was really that bad then I'd say something. It really is fuckingbad, but I keep my mouth shut. This whole dilemma is already troublesome enough.

"I'm fine, Gerard. Really," I tell him with a fake smile. I don't feel horrendous, I just ache all over. Mentally, I'm pretty good at the moment it's just so hard to move around.

"You're lying," he says assuredly. Gerard is way too good at picking up on that which makes it so much harder to try not making him concerned.

"Gerard I'm not going to get any better if I let you do everything for me. It's bearable, okay? It hurts, but I'm still functional."

"I'm not saying that you can't do things, I'm saying that some things you need help with for now."

I sigh, but I just let him walk away with the suitcase and he stuffs it in the trunk.

It's not the nicest car in the world. We only had a few hours to pick it out so it's better than nothing, but I do wish we'd gotten something nicer. I don't know shit about cars so I have no idea what type of car it even is. Something that was reasonably priced at a used car lot. I think the only criteria that we were looking to fit was 'good mileage', 'regular looking,' and 'doesn't smell bad' so it's successful on all three accounts.

It's a dull black color, not shiny, but not dirty either. Inconspicuous is what I'd call it, which is ideal. We didn't want a car so fancy that you take notice of it, but also not a car so trashy that it catches your attention.

Mikey is splayed across the hood looking bored as ever, and I'm just standing here moping, like I always seem to be doing nowadays, outside the hotel room door. I've felt useless for the last three weeks doing absolutely nothing but lounging about in various beds. Hospital beds, hotel room beds, Gerard's bed, and I've been told that I've visited a few gurneys as well.