Stockholm Syndrome

I started to wake up with a small groan, my head was tilted uncomfortably forward, my chin resting on my chest. I was achy all over and had such a crick in my neck. I lifted my head, vaguely wondering why I was in a sitting position and lazily opened my eyes. I was filled with the sight of the motel room and felt my heart sink with dread. The nightmare of last night had been real after all. I gave my arms a tug only to find that I was still very much handcuffed to the chair I was in. My eyes glanced over to the bed, but I didn't see the man lying there. I frantically looked about the room. I didn't see Gerard anywhere. Maybe he decided to just leave me here while he skipped out of town, but that hope was dashed when the bathroom door suddenly opened and out walked Gerard, hair dripping wet with just a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Oh Frankie, you're awake," Gerard grinned, squatting down at his duffle bag on the floor and digging out some clothes. He dumped the clothes on the bed and just dropped his towel shamelessly to the floor as he started to dress. I quickly averted my eyes to the floor. "So I was thinking in the shower, and I'm afraid I can't just let you go, kid. I mean, it'd be a stupid thing to do on my part. You know what I look like after all, and I can't have you running off to the cops."

"I- I won't tell anyone, please."

"Aw Frankie," I looked back up to a sad smiling Gerard, now dressed pretty nicely, those same black jeans as last night but with a button up shirt and tie. "They all say they won't tell, don't they? And maybe they mean it when they say it, but," Gerard sighed, "they always end up spilling to the cops. Someone will eventually recognize you, Frank, and they'll make you talk. Coax you with some crap about how 'you don't have to be afraid and I can't hurt you anymore and shit'. Well, I'm not going to let that happen."

"No. I swear I won't," I pleaded, dread and fear taking over every inch of my body. You weren't supposed to beg, but I didn't know what else I could say to talk my way out of the inevitable. "If they find me, I'll... I'll lie, I swear. I'll have them out looking for... for some blonde guy with a scar down his face. Please. I promise. Please let me go." In my gut I was sure this begging was all futile, but god, I had to try.

"That's too kind of you, sugar," Gerard patted my cheek gently, "But I'm afraid I just don't know you well enough to know if you'll keep your word or not, you know? So I'm afraid just turning you lose isn't an option I have."

"No," I shook my head frantically. My heart pounded and my pathetic pleading eyes glassy with tears. "Please, I swear. Please, don't kill me. Please."

"Calm down, would you." Gerard sighed and pulled the blanket off me, spreading it back on the bed. "Who said anything about killing you?" He grabbed his gun and a set of keys before walking behind my chair.

I felt him undoing the handcuffs. "W-what are you going to do with me?"

"You're coming with me. I have plans for you." Gerard was back at his bag, stuffing the cuffs back in.

"But... but..."

"I hardly think you're in any kind of position to argue with me, sugar," Gerard took a seat on the bed, casually pointing the gun at me. "Go ahead and get in the bathroom. You must have to take a piss. Don't lock the door."

I cautiously got up from the chair and made my way into the bathroom. Once I had the door shut behind me, I leaned back against it heavily, bringing shaking hands up to cover my face. I didn't want to know what plans Gerard had for me. I didn't want to think about it, because my overactive imagination would only picture the most gruesome of scenarios for myself. I moved to the toilet bowl, feeling rushed to finished using the bathroom as quickly as possible, fearing that Gerard might barge in angry if I took too long.

There was a small frosted window situated high on the wall over the toilet that I couldn't help but stare at longingly. If I were to just climb on the back of the toilet, I was sure the window was just big enough for me to pull myself through. My heart raced as my mind quickly toyed with the idea of attempting escape. I overthought it last time thinking I could escape with the knife. I didn't let myself debate over the decision. It was just a rapid instinct-to-survive impulse. I was going to go for it. Gerard could catch me and kill me, yes. But as far as I was concerned Gerard was just going to kill me eventually anyway. I had to try something to get away. It was a death wish to pass up this opportunity. I turned the faucet on in hopes of creating a sort of muffling noise, and then as quietly as I could, I turned the small lever on the doorknob to lock the door. Pushing the image out of my mind of Gerard riddling the door with a barrage of bullets that I wouldn't be able to dodge, I carefully climbed atop the back of the toilet to come face-to-face with the opaque glass. It was a two paneled window where the two panes of glass were side by side, and one pane could be unlocked and slid to the side for it to be opened. I twisted the small lock and curled my fingers over the long narrow handle to slide the window open, but the damn thing wouldn't budge.

"Hey, I thought I told you not to lock the door. Hurry it up and get out of there."

My heart stopped at first when I heard Gerard's voice, then it raced erratically as he kept struggling with the handle. "S-sorry. Just a minute," I called out weakly. I was running on desperation and fear induced adrenaline, and perhaps it was that combination that somehow gave me that little boost of strength I needed to get the window un-jammed. It was open, and it was wide enough. I wasted no time gripping on the outside of the sill and hauling myself up. My head and shoulders through, I only got a glimpse of the narrow empty back lot of the motel when I heard the bathroom door slam open. I pulled more of myself out the window quicker in a panic, ready to just let myself fall headfirst to the asphalt below. I was so close. So fucking close.

But not quite.

"No!" The scream was loud and desperate from my lips when I felt the vice-like grip of Gerard's hand around my ankle. With just one powerful yank, I was pulled back inside the bathroom, falling down hard to the tiled floor. Gerard stood over me, pointing the gun at my chest, and I could only squeeze my eyes shut, knowing the inevitable was about to happen. I was going to die.

"You've got balls, kid. I'll give you that. Now get up, huh. I'm not gonna shoot you."

I got to my feet cautiously and kept my eyes trained on the floor. Afraid to look at Gerard. Afraid to look at the gun. Afraid Gerard was lying and was going to shoot me between the eyes.

"Try to pull that stunt again, though, and you won't find me so kind. Come on," Gerard grabbed a fistful of the front of my shirt, pulling me out of the bathroom. "Get your coat on. We're leaving."

~

Once again I found myself sitting terrified in a passenger seat of probably another stolen car. I was sure this time around I really was being brought to my execution ground. I didn't know what was worse: the torture my mind was going through knowing my brutal murder could just be minutes away and there was nothing I could do to stop it, or actually dying.

"So, you got a car?"

"Yes," I answered quietly, blankly staring out the window at the familiar passing scenery. Gerard had driven us back to my town. "But it doesn't start."

"Sucks. You live by yourself, Frank?"

"Yes."

"Anybody gonna notice you're gone?"

"Um, my girlfriend," I answered, though I honestly didn't know how many days it would take her to notice. "I guess my boss and my landlord eventually."

"That all? Not even mommy and daddy?"

I felt pangs of sadness and anger shoot through me with that question, but I was hopefully going to use my truthful answer to my advantage. Make yourself human in your captor's eyes. Make them sympathize with you. "I... I didn't really turn out how mommy and stepdaddy wanted. They haven't noticed me in a really long time."

"Well, look at that," Gerard chuckled, "we've got something in common. Asshole parents."

Something in common. That was actually good fucking news. I could attempt to form a bond with him. Make him see himself in me. Make him like me. Make him hesitant to fucking kill me. "I'm sorry then," I chose my words carefully and kept my voice even. "I hope your dad wasn't as bad as my imposter one."

"Aw Frankie," another chuckle danced from Gerard's lips, "you don't have to pretend to care. I said I wasn't killing you, didn't I?"

I kept my eyes on the road as I spoke and made sure my voice didn't waver. He needed to think I was genuine about empathizing with him. "I care if anyone else had to grow up like I did."

"Oh?" He spoke mockingly. He clearly didn't believe me. "And how was that, pretty boy?"

"Never knowing when I was gonna get the shit beaten outta me in my own house and having a mom that defended the drunken fuck who did it." I could feel his gaze on me, but I avoided looking at him and just wrapped my arms around myself to look pathetic. What I said was true; I didn't have to pretend that part.

"Oh." There it was, the tone of his voice. He felt sorry for me. At least in this moment I made him see me as a human being and not just a pawn of his. Baby steps to staying alive. I could do this.

The rest of the drive was silent, uncomfortable, terrifying. And it remained that way until Gerard pulled the car into a parking lot that I couldn't fucking believe. It was my goddamn apartment building.

"Well, this is it, isn't it?" Gerard questioned, whipping out my wallet still in his possession and checking the address on my license. "Gimme your key."

I dug into my coat pocket and handed Gerard over the clip key chain with a few keys attached. I didn't know what to think. "What are we doing here?" I couldn't help but blurt out.

"We're making a quick stop out of the goodness of my heart," Gerard said, and then he forced me to lead the way to my place.

Three flights up the stairwell, first door on the right. "This is it," I said quietly, stopping before it.

Gerard let us into the tiny apartment and looked around with a grimace. "I'd say nice place, but it looks pretty much like a shit hole. No offense. So, you got a backpack or something of your own, kid?"

I nodded.

"Well then, let's go get it and get you packed."

"W-what?"

"I told you before that I'm taking you with me," Gerard pulled his gun out of his pocket, casually holding it at his side. "I was hoping you'd at least be a little thankful, Frank. I mean, this is an inconvenience, you know. I go out of my way so you can pack a few things. Well, and also so I don't have to deal with you smelling with just one set of clothes." Gerard grinned.

"Please. Can't you just leave me here?" I was home. And even though it was a crappy little shit hole like Gerard said, it didn't change the fact that it was home. My sanctuary from the rest of the world. I just wanted this nightmare be over. "Please. I swear I won't tell anyone. I swear. Please."

"Frankie come on, the only time for begging is in the bedroom," Gerard winked, chuckling at his own joke before his demeanor turned serious. His eyes locked with mine, and his gun aimed precisely at me. "You're either coming with me, or I'm pulling the trigger. Now Frankie, I don't really want to kill you, but it's up to you what happens here. So what would you rather do?"

"I- I'll go with you," I said shakily.

He grinned, lowering his aim but bringing it right back up after my phone started ringing in my pocket. "Go ahead and check it," he nodded. "Tell me who it is."

I pulled the cell from my pocket and glanced down at the contact picture on the screen and frowned. "It's my girlfriend."

"Hm," he tapped his chin in thought, a slight smirk forming on his face. "Answer it."

I didn't want to. I was afraid he'd try to make me drag her into this somehow, but I answered anyway. He did have the gun pointed at me. If I had to end up refusing to say something to save her and got shot for it then so be it.

"Hey babe," I kept my voice normal. As normal as I could with my gun-toting captor leaning in close to listen in on the call.

"Frank. How you doin' sweetie?"

"I'm good."

"Great great, um look I hate to do this right now, and I know you were just here last night, and I meant to tell you this then, but your face is just too stinkin' cute, you know? And we ended up having some fun instead and I certainly don't regret that, you're awesome, but sweetie..." She drawled in a remorseful tone, "I think we need to, you know, call us quits."

"What...?" I was flabbergasted. Was this really my real life right now? Was I really getting dumped by my girl while I was in the middle of being abducted. "Kris..." Her name got stuck in my throat. I wasn't so much sad as I was shocked. "You're breaking up with me?" It came out indignant.

I was mad now. Her voice starting to droning on in a false apologetic tone, but I wasn't hearing the words. Hell, I'm pretty sure Mr. Fucking Kidnap was stifling a laugh beside me, but even that wasn't phasing me really. I was too angry feeling used. I know our relationship wasn't too deep, but still. She had me go to her place last night so she could dump me, but ended up using me for one last good fuck and sent me on my way when I practically begged to spend the night, then to end up dumping me over the phone the next day. She was the damn reason I was on the streets last night. The reason I ended up in the store the time I did. The fucking reason I got caught up in this goddamn fucking mess with a psycho with a gun. Sure maybe you could argue she just played a roundabout factor, but not where my logic stood. This bitch I cared about used me, and set me up to be fucking killed.

"Fuck you," I said harshly into the phone. I think she was still talking but I ended the call, and when I did Gerard burst out laughing.

His loud laughter kind of brought me back to Earth. Woke me up from my hurt over Kris and made me remember that yeah, my current situation required all my attention. Now was not the time for hurt feelings, now was the time to be appropriately scared and be smart about what you say around the man with the gun.

"Wellll," Gerard's laughter petered off. "Sorry there lover boy. But that actually worked out pretty well. I was gonna have you break up with her; strike a potential 'missing person reporter' off your list." He threw his arm around my shoulders making me stiffen uncomfortably when it seemed like he was trying to give comfort like a chummy friend.
"You know what though," he went on, giving me a 'friendly' knock to the shoulder with the barrel of the gun, "it sounded like she was totally beneath you, you know. Better off without her, sugar. So how about we get that bag packed, and get this show on the road, huh?"

"You really could just leave me, you know. I promise I–" I had to try just one more time to reason with him, but he cut me off, slowly waving the gun in my face.

"Are you changing your mind, Frankie? You come with me or I shoot, remember?"

"I... No," I shook my head.

"Let me hear you say what you want," his eyes turned cold, and he trailed the gun barrel in this twisted gentle way down the side of my face. It shook me back into a terrified daze.

"I want to go with you, Gerard," I managed to choke the words out.

"Good boy," Gerard grinned, lowering his aim to the floor. "Now don't worry so much, sugar. This'll be like an awesome road trip, you'll see."

~

That 'awesome road trip' was moving on to day four I think. Gerard had driven us through maybe three states, and the further I got taken away from home, the more worried I got. I didn't know how long Gerard was planning to keep me. All these days went by and I still didn't know what he wanted with me. I felt like a pet. Well, a pet prisoner. Gerard practically had me on a leash, except my leash was a gun and threats of its use on me or other innocent people around us. It made sure I never had a safe opportunity to try to get away. Plus he had tossed my phone and discovered my switchblade; I had nothing to help me. I had not choice but to only shuffle along with him mutely when he made stops: for bathrooms, food, clothes —oddly women's stuff and wigs. And what worried me about that was how he held those clothes up to me approvingly before buying or stealing them. My best hope there was letting myself believe I was the same height as a girlfriend or sister or something.
We slept in the car that first night, me in the trunk. Then we stayed at two different motels, and Gerard had at least been kind enough to get rooms with two beds and let me have one arm free, only making one of my wrists uncomfortably cuffed to it.

I guess in the grand scheme of things four days of being held captive wasn't really that long, but already this insane situation kind of transitioned from surreal to normal for me. I was still scared of course, but I guess I came to terms. This was my life now. Held captive by a psycho, but sadly I was pretty sure this new warped life wouldn't last too long for the obviously grim reason. My impending murder had to be coming soon.

So there I was sure Gerard was going to kill me eventually, but then he was oddly nice too. It was like he was double-sided. He pointed that gun at me more times than I could count, and he'd give orders with icy death threats. But then in a split moment he'd be joking and chummy. And I guess the fact that he kept me fed, let me sleep in a bed, and didn't hurt me physically at all counted toward his skewed good side. Gerard really was like two different people blended together and that just seemed to drive the point home that the man had some mental issues. A fucking psychotic mind. He sure as fuck was going to kill me one day. I was living out a really weird version of my worse fear, and I was actually kind of proud of myself. Considering everything, I was pretty damn calm most of the time. I wasn't a petrified statue on the verge of its heart exploding. Maybe this meant I finally overcame the fear. Too bad that I was still gonna die.

~

"Alright Frankie my boy, today is the day."

We were in motel number three today. Gerard stood at the foot of my bed holding up a short dark gray skirt and wiggled it in his hand with a grin before setting it down on the bed with the other articles of clothing he dumped there. A white tanktop, a black button-up lightweight sweater decorated sparsely with simple purple butterflies, a bra.....

I was sitting in the middle of the bed in just my boxer shorts, my free arms crossed over my chest, trying to cover as much of myself as I could. Gerard had let me stay uncuffed after letting me take a somewhat supervised shower. A very unnerving shower where he made me shave the growing stubble off my face —as well as the hair off my legs.

"Come on, get dressed for me."

"In girls' clothes?" I shot back. I guess I had gradually gotten a bit braver in actually conversing more naturally with my captor. He was the only fucking company I had. But I was still very mindful about not saying anything that I thought would set Gerard off.

"You say that like it's a bad thing. Come on, you'll look pretty," Gerard chuckled.

"Why do you want me to?" This dress me up thing was making me very fucking nervous.

"Because I need you to be wearing a disguise when you help me rob the bank downtown, sugar."

"......What?"

Notes