This Is How I Disappear

I type in my home phone number into Gerard’s—if he says that’s his name, I might as well call him by it—burner cell at 11:25am. Handing it off to my red-haired accomplice, I bite my lip ring and listen to it ring. My mother picks up almost immediately.

“Hello?” she asks breathily. “Hello? Iero residence.”

Gerard doesn’t answer for a long moment, dramatizing the call, I suppose.

“Hello?” my mother repeats, panicked.

“Do you have the money?” Gerard asks, lowering his voice so that he sounds like Batman. He’s way hotter than Batman, my brain mentions.

I agree wholeheartedly, but now is not the time, I whisper.

My mom takes a deep breath. “Yes,” she breathes.

“Good,” Gerard says, looking at me accusingly.

I shrug helplessly, because honestly I had no idea they could pay.

“Bring it to the alley where the police found his backpack. Put it in the backpack and walk away. No cops.” Gerard is tapping the fingers of one hand against his leg. I sit on the couch as Gerard paces in front of the TV, the news on mute.

“I want to talk to my son,” she says stiffly, and I can hear the tears threatening her voice. I think my lip is starting to bleed from where I’m biting it, but I don’t care. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Maybe? my brain retorts. I ignore it.

Gerard’s face is stony as stops pacing and holds the phone to my mouth. I’m paralyzed until he slaps me across the face, hard. Ow, what the hell! I think sourly, rubbing my cheek. I groan a little and my mom starts shrieking hysterically. “Frank? Frankie?! Are you okay? Don’t be scared, baby, you’re gonna be fine, I promise. I love you, Frankie! I’ll see you soon!”

“It’s okay, mom,” I try to say reassuringly, but for some reason, my voice breaks. “It’s okay.”

Gerard yanks the phone away, and growls, “It’s 11:30 now. You have half an hour to drop it off, without cops, or your son is dead.” He hangs up.

“You really did watch a lot of cop shows,” I manage to say.

Gerard stands awkwardly in front of me. “I’m sorry,” he says stiffly. It doesn’t sound sincere.

Because he’s a psychopath, my brain has the grace to remind me. And psychopaths don’t feel anything, especially guilt. If you just start thinking of him as a dangerous, unfeeling murderer, maybe you won’t be so disappointed when he doesn’t hold your hand and tell you you’re beautiful.

“I never said I wanted that!” I shout, before I realize I’m speaking out loud.

Gerard steps back in shock, then his expression darkens and he towers over me. “You asked me to make the call,” he spits. “And I know it’s not just so that the police think you’re innocent. I know why you wanted them to think you were being held hostage.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, standing so that he has to step back again.

But he doesn’t. The lengths of our bodies are practically touching. I can’t utter another word.

“Do you think I’m blind?” he counters. “Do you think I’m an idiot? I see the way you walk, with your head bowed, trying not to be noticed. I see the almost unnoticeable limp in your step. There are bruises all over you! How can you want to go back home to that abusive environment?”

My mouth hangs open. “Are you implying that my parents beat me?” I ask flatly.

Gerard works his clenched jaw. “That or you’re bullied at school. Probably both.”

“My parents,” I say, my voice rising, “love me! They want only the best for me! They would never hurt me in any way!”

“So just school?” Gerard is fuming visibly.

I swallow, staring him down for another moment before I drop my eyes and sit at the very edge of the couch. “It doesn’t matter,” I say steadily, but my voice is too quiet to hear.

He sits down beside me, closer than he has to. “You. Matter,” he says solemnly, and I can’t help shaking my head slightly and turning away. His hand shoots out to grab my chin and forces me to face him. “No matter what those ignorant bastards say about you, they are the ones who are meaningless. I know it’s hard. I know the things it can drive you to do. But if you let them get to you, they win. Don’t give them the satisfaction; don’t let them play god over your life.”

I try to knock his hand away, but he grabs it in his other instead.

“You need to know that there will be people in your life that will love you despite your flaws, and then there will be people who love you completely, flaws included. Those assholes don’t define you.” His hand is hot on my face, his other hand burning my own.

“Okay,” I say in a strained voice. “I get it.” I jerk my chin away and snatch my hand back. I don’t want to, but if I don’t, I’m afraid I might do something stupid.

“Do you?” he interrogates fiercely, leaning towards me as I cringe into the sofa arm. I can feel his breath hitting the side of my neck. Why is he doing this? Stop.

“You are not alone,” Gerard says in a gentle voice, the smell of cigarettes the only scent I can pick up.

I stand up quickly, and move a few steps away from the couch, where Gerard is leaning into the empty space that I was just sitting in. He looks at me, surprised I moved. Surprised? my brain unhelpfully asks. Or disappointed?