Frank felt uneasy as he hurried back to Jamia’s house. He had a nasty, sick feeling that was twisting and turning in his stomach, making him on edge and nauseous.
His breath was quicker than normal and his heart was thumping rapidly. He told himself to calm the fuck down and stop panicking. What the hell was he even worried about anyway?
He’d gone over to his mom’s house after school to collect his stuff whilst she was out at work. He’d started to pack everything up once he’d gotten back to Jamia’s and then he’d realised he’d forgotten his laptop. And here he was, walking back to Jamia’s house with said laptop.
And he felt like he was about to explode with panic and worry.
Jamia’s parents were on a business trip but were back on Sunday, meaning they’d had the house to themselves and they wouldn’t have to deal with her parents when they left.
But Frank was now wishing they were at home so that Jamia didn’t have to be on her own in the house. Why? He didn’t know. He just felt so fucking scared. He reminded himself that he’d only lived five minutes away from Jamia’s house and nothing that bad could’ve happened within five minutes, especially because he was fucking power walking like a maniac, nearly jogging.
His heart sped up as he rounded the corner and came to Jamia’s street and he made his way towards her house. When he reached the house, his breath caught in his throat and he stared at the door.
It was slightly open and the lock had been busted.
Frank’s hand let go of the laptop and he flew towards the house, not thinking about anything but seeing if Jamia was okay.
He shoved the door aside and was met with obvious signs of a struggle. The table pushed against the wall in the hallway was tipped over, the mirror lying on the floor, shards of blood stained glass scattered across the smooth, cold surface of the wooden floorboards. A bloody hand print was smeared onto the wall, the blood fresh and dripping.
Frank leapt over the table and sprinted further into the house. The living room was mess, the couches ripped up and looking like someone had stabbed them, the contents of the squishy fabric couches spewed all over the floor. Water from a smashed vase of flowers mixed with blood. Blood that appeared to decorating the floor in puddles, the ruby liquid glinting under the light. The TV was smashed and the coffee table was snapped in half, splinters of wood lying around it.
Frank scrambled his way through the mess towards the kitchen.
He flung open the door and froze.
Jamia was lying motionless on the floor next to the table, her wrists and ankles tied together. There was blood pooled around her, the red threading through her black strands of hair that were splayed out around her head. Her clothes were ripped and stained in red and she was covered in deep slashes, her pale skin almost glowing against the red. There was a gag in her mouth and her eyes snapped to Frank and a muffled scream came from her.
Frank hurled himself to the floor next her, throwing himself on his hand sin knees in her blood.
“Jamia! Oh fuck, what happened?” he choked out frantically, clawing uselessly with his short fingernails at the rope binding her wrist together.
He reached up to her mouth and tore away the gag and she gasped at the air.
“Frank, it’s him, it’s the guy who’s been following me!” Jamia whispered.
“What?! He’s here?” Frank gasped.
Tears welled up in her eyes and she bit her lip. “Frank. He’s here… he’s here because he’s come for you.”
Frank stared at her.
“He’s told me I’m in the way and that he’s going to get rid of me so the two of you can be together.”
Frank gaped at her wordlessly.
Towards the front of the house, there was the sound of the front door shutting softly.
Frank froze and leapt up, shutting the kitchen door quickly and ramming a chair underneath the handle. His eyes zoned in on the table and he pushed that against the door too. Then he ran to the cutlery draw and ripped it open, the contents clattering to the floor. He seized a sharp glinting knife and then dropped back to his knees next to Jamia and began to hack away at the rope.
“Frank?” a soft voice called through the door.
Jamia whimpered, staring at the door in fear.
“Go!” she hissed. “Frank, you have to go, quickly! You have to get out!”
“I’m not leaving you!” Frank hissed back and manically began sawing away at the rope. It broke and Jamia’s wrists were freed.
“Frank! Let me in!” the voice shouted, the door handle rattling.
Frank ignored it and began to cut the rope on Jamia’s ankles. The door shuddered as the guy threw their weight against it on the other side.
Jamia was sobbing in panic. “Frank, please! Just get out of here!”
Suddenly the door burst open, the table and chair flying across the room. Jamia screamed and Frank fell to the floor as he got out of the way of the chair.
Frank stared at the guy who stood there. It was the same man who’d been at the store.
“Frank!” he beamed. “You’re here!”
Frank hand flew out and seized the knife.
Gerard smiled at him, laughing softly. He stepped calmly into the kitchen, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it with his arms crossed.
“Can you please put that down Frankie?” Gerard asked gently.
“No,” Frank spat.
Gerard’s face dropped. “Oh. Will this change your mind?”
Frank watched as Gerard shrugged off from the door and his hand casually dipped into his pocket. When he pulled his hand back out, he was holding a gun.
“I think you know knives don’t mean much to someone holding a gun,” Gerard said calming. “Now put the knife down or Jamia’s dead.”
The knife slipped from Frank’s shaking fingers.
“Good,” Gerard smiled widely. “Now sit down.”
Frank slowly lowered himself into a chair that wasn’t turned over and on the floor. Gerard walked forwards and kicked aside all the knives that lay on the floor. He approached Frank, withdrawing rope from his pocket and swiftly bound Frank to the chair before he could do anything.
“No!” Jamia sobbed. “Please, don’t do this!”
Gerard struck her across the face with the gun, blood flying from Jamia’s mouth followed by a couple of teeth. Frank gasped and tried to move, but that juts resulted in the ropes burning into his skin.
“Don’t! Stop it!” Frank yelled, struggling against the ropes.
Gerard ignored him and dragged Jamia to her feet by holding a fistful of her hair that was matted with her own blood. Gerard’s own face had a couple of nasty cuts and three claw like marks down the side of his cheek from where Jamia had put up a fight.
Gerard shoved Jamia onto the table, forcing her body to lie out straight on her back. He tied her to the table and then stepped back to observe his work. He smiled to himself and then turned to Frank.
“Watch. Watch every single second of this Frank. You’ll enjoy it so much,” Gerard giggled.
He put the gag back on Jamia and then scooped up a knife lying at his feet. He placed it against the inside of her wrist.
“You won’t ever be able to hold hands with my Frankie ever again,” Gerard snarled and then began dragging the knife back and forth Jamia’s wrist.
He kept going, ignoring Jamia’s muffled screams of pain and Frank’s yells and sobs of desperation until he’d cut through to the bone. He paused thoughtfully before dragging a black bag out from under the table. He unzipped it and withdrew a glinting saw and then proceeded to cut away the bone in the way of getting rid of Jamia’s hand. He finally stopped when he’d sawn all the way through and picked up Jamia’s hand, staring at it wonder. He then smiled and repeated his actions on her other hand.
When he was finished, he grabbed one of her hands and lifted the finger up on it. He then shoved it into Jamia’s eye, driving it all the through, blinding her.
“You won’t ever be able to see Frank ever again,” Gerard told her and rammed the finger into her other eye.
He then seized the knife and started to cut away at her lips. “You can’t kiss him ever again.”
He tossed the pieces of flesh away and then his eyes lit up with glee as he spotted the blender sitting on the side. Jamia had gone limp and strange, sickening bubbling sounds were coming from her mouth.
Gerard skipped back to her, blender in hand. He switched it on shoved her hand-less arm into it, making her scream again, her back arching up against the ropes in agony.
“Please,” Frank sobbed, tears streaming down his face. “Please, just stop! I’ll do anything, just stop hurting her!”
Gerard froze and spun around to face him. “What?”
“I’ll come with you, I’ll do anything you want, just please,” Frank whimpered. “Just please stop.”
Gerard’s face lit up and his blood splattered face stretched into an excited grin.
He then turned back to Jamia and in one quick, fluid motion, he slashed the knife across her throat, ending her pain and her life.