Stockholm Syndrome

I walked into the bank by myself, heart racing. I couldn't believe I was dong this, but Gerard threatened to kill me; and more importantly threatened to gun down an innocent bystander at the outside café across the street if I wasn't back outside with the money in ten minutes. Whether Gerard was really willing to make good on that threat or not, I wasn't about to gamble on it with another person's life.

I made my way over to the short line in that outfit Gerard forced me to wear. That gray skirt was just above my knees, and the black woman's boots I wore up to mid-calf. Gerard topped off this little ensemble with a sheer purple scarf around my neck, a pair of black framed 80s styled sunglasses, and a large black purse. There was also of course the long curly brown-haired wig atop my head, and a dark shade of pink lipstick on my lips. Gerard had wanted me to look like a young woman; and well, I suppose I pulled it off. I definitely didn't recognize myself in the mirror at the motel, and nobody here seemed to be staring. I would have been embarrassed of this get-up if I weren't so terrified and nervous.

It was my turn all too quickly, and nervously I made my way to the free teller at the end of the counter who had called out 'next'.

"What can I do for you today, ma'am?" the cheery blonde woman asked.

I grimaced and pulled the note out from the purse Gerard had instructed me to pass to the teller. I remained silent just like he told me to, and with a shaking hand I placed the paper on the counter. Gerard had let me read the note over briefly, and I hoped to god it would work. People could die outside if I didn't walk out of there with the money. The woman reached for the paper, and I held my breath as I saw her eyes widening as she read it.

Dear teller,
We have this woman's daughter outside, and if she doesn't return to us with all the money in your register, we're going to splatter her little girl's brain all over the pavement. No alarm button. If we so much as hear the faint sound of a siren, the girl is dead. Act normal. Return this note to the woman as well as all your cash in envelopes. You have 5 minutes, or this little girl's blood is on your hands.
Thank you in advance,
B&C

'B&C', Gerard's little homage to Bonnie and Clyde. The teller slid the note back to me, and I could see it was taking a lot out of her to force that smile on her face and act calm. "Okay miss, I'll g-get this done for you as fast as I can."

It had worked. It had fucking worked. The woman quickly went about emptying her register, pretending to quickly count through the bills so nothing would look suspicious with the security camera on her. Seven envelopes were stuffed full of cash and handed over with a fake smile. I zipped up the money securely in the purse and mouthed a nervous 'thank you' before turning to leave. While I walked away my already fast beating heart sped up even more. I had to suppress the urge to run. I could just picture it: security guards were going to come tackling me to the floor any second, that innocent person across the street was going to be shot, and Gerard would just drive off free of getting caught.

But I made it passed the glass doors of the bank, out into the fresh air and under a bright blue sky. A perfect day that only seemed to be mocking the terror I was feeling. I continued on down the sidewalk. As soon as I was in front of the neighboring building, I crossed the street and immediately made my way into Gerard's awaiting car.

"You got it?"

"Y-yes." I nodded, opening the purse in my lap and showing Gerard one of the filled envelopes.

"That's my girl," Gerard grinned. He plucked off my sunglasses and then grabbed a light hold of my jaw, leaning in and pressing his lips against mine in a firm, quick kiss before I knew what was happening. I had gone completely tense, and he merely pulled back with a smirk, his lips now smeared a little with my lipstick.

Gerard just rolled his eyes. "Relax, Frankie. Celebration kiss. And you know, I can't help it that you're a hot chick. Well, a hot guy too, but I digress," he grinned more and took off down the street at a very non-suspicious legal speed. "So your first heist. Heart pounding rush, am I right?"

"No," I said quietly, pulling the wig off and doing my best to wipe the lipstick off with my hand as I looked at my reflection in the small mirror of the sunshade visor. 'No' I had said, but that was a lie. My heart was still pounding. I had just robbed a bank with a fucking piece of paper, and I was getting away with it.

And we continued to get away with it.

We moved our way across the states over the next month. Bank after bank after bank. I had long stopped trying to convince Gerard to stop making me do this. I just went along with it. He didn't even need to verbalize the threats. I guess I gave up. I guess I accepted my reality. This was my life now. A criminal accessory.

I calmly walked out of Gerard's eighth targeted bank, of course dressed like a woman and this time donning a short blonde wig. According to Gerard, this was going to be the last place we robbed using his little note trick. The robberies were all over the news, and there was speculation over whether the women used to commit the robberies were actually in on the crime. Gerard knew he could only use a certain technique so many times otherwise he –we– were just bound to get caught.

I was happy that this was the last one. And honestly not so much because I despised being forced to commit these robberies, but more so because I hoped this was the last time I would be forced to dress in drag. I guess my morals had taken a backseat to feeling comfortable over the past month.

I walked along the sidewalk, purse of stolen money clutched tightly in one hand, while the other was busy yanking the hem of my black skirt down. The ones Gerard kept picking out kept getting shorter and shorter. Yes, I was fucking thrilled this was the end, but I was also worried. Worried that Gerard would now finally kill me. Gerard used me to get money, and now that it was all over, what would he need me around for anymore?

I eyed Gerard in the car up ahead, frowning deeply. The man really was just using me; and for some reason, I don't know, it was like a realization. Maybe it was the fact that Gerard acted friendly so much of the time. This month held far less threats and more of his own peculiar brand of 'bullied nice'. But now it hurt. I was hurting just dwelling on the fact that I was being used. But this shouldn't have been something new to me. Throughout my life I've always always been used or unimportant. Hell, now I was wondering why I cared so much about whether I was killed. I had no loving family. No real friends. The relationships I managed never lasted, never made it to the point of reciprocated deep feelings. Fuck, I was barely scraping by in my miserable excuse for a life. Mundane. Monotonous. Lonely. But then this happened to me. Kidnapped and forcibly made to aid in a fucking crime spree. I was still scared about the situation, no question. But something had started to scare me even more. I had begun to find this new life I was being forced to live exciting.

I knew Gerard was my captor. I understood that. But also I couldn't help but feel in a skewed sort of way that Gerard was in an essence taking care of me too. I knew I shouldn't think that; it hurt my head that I did. But something happened in over the course of a month of living like a prisoner, of living like a partner in crime. Part of me didn't want this to end.
I didn't lose all logic in my brain, though. It would be stupid on Gerard's part if he kept me around, I knew that. Too much of a risk in getting caught. No, Gerard would kill me, and hopefully make it quick. A shot to the head, a shot to the heart. It'd be over in a second. Maybe I wouldn't feel a thing.

I was just a few feet from the car when I suddenly felt a harsh grip on my arm, and in that split second I found myself yanked hard into the alley I was walking by. A large hand was clamped over my mouth, and I could feel the cold blade of a knife pressed warningly to my throat.

"Don't make a sound, pretty."

The voice was hoarse and gruff, and I could tell the man was big as I was tightly held back against the man's large frame. I fell into an internal panic as I was roughly being forced down the wide alley. It really seemed like I had no luck in life. Someone was fucking mugging me while I was already a hostage of someone else. The cloudy sky made for a dark atmosphere, but who the hell mugs people during the day? Once at the end of the alley, I was pushed behind one of the buildings and roughly shoved back against the graffiti covered brick wall, finding myself at last face to face with the man. Head shaved, tall, well built, dark eyes, terrifyingly intimidating. The purse was ripped from my hands, and the man's eyes widened as he obviously saw the envelopes inside overflowing with cash.

"Well shit," he smiled wickedly, "today's my lucky day." He brought the knife back to my neck, and I watched wide-eyed as the man began to undo his belt. "Now be a good girl and keep your fucking mouth shut."

I had fleeting fears of it a few times in the past with Gerard, what with all his sexual comments and him securing me to a bed with furry handcuffs, but now it was going to happen. I was going to be raped by this ugly behemoth. And it quickly registered through the fear that this man was going to find out that I wasn't a girl at all. Either that wasn't going to matter to him or he could fly into a rage and beat me senseless or dead. I think I was more scared now than I had ever been in my life, more scared than all the time spent with Gerard, but I wasn't going to let this happen. I wasn't going to let this sicko get what he wanted, not without a fight. As fast and as powerful as I could, I raised up my knee, precisely ramming it hard between the man's legs. With a sharp cry he fell down to his knees, and I bolted. But not fast enough. The man stayed on the ground in pain, but had quickly darted a hand out, wrapping it tightly around my ankle. I went down, knees and hands scrapping on the asphalt.
"You little bitch!"

The man was on top of me in a second, throwing a severe backhand across my face that made me see stars. It flashed me back to those horrible moments with my stepfather. It made me angry. It made me fight back harder. I writhed and wiggled and punched from where I was pinned down by the man, but unfortunately my struggling came to a stop when the man had reached for his fallen knife and again pressed it to my throat. My fists couldn't fucking win against a blade. I was frozen. This was it. I was going to be killed. But a figure appeared out of the corner of my eye, and I saw as a foot connected with the side of the man's head. He tumbled off of me, and I looked up to see Gerard standing over me with a hand extended to help me off the ground. I didn't think I would ever be so happy to see Gerard. I got to my feet, my hands and knees bloody, and a bruise already forming on my cheek and around my eye. Gerard appeared to get angrier as he looked over my injuries.

"He hurt you." Gerard practically growled.

A gloved hand instantly aimed his gun at the man on the ground, who was cursing and clutching at the blow to this head. The man noticed the weapon and his eyes grew wide, and I could only watch with wide eyes of my own as Gerard pulled the trigger before the man even had a chance to utter out a plea.

It was horrible. The sound was so loud, and it rung in my ears. And the sight... The bullet hit him in the forehead, and I had to hold back a scream seeing blood and what had to be pieces of the man's brains seemingly explode out the back of his head as the bullet exited. The man slumped to the ground, lifeless eyes open and staring up at the dreary sky. It was like a train wreck that you couldn't look away from. My eyes were horrifically glued to the man –the body– even as blood steadily started to pool around his head. You'd think I'd be desensitized to a sight like this with all the gory horror flicks I love. But this was different. This was real.

Gerard stepped forward and used his foot to push the man over so he was lying on his stomach. I couldn't help but keep stealing glances at the exit wound on the back of the man's head as Gerard plucked the man's wallet out of his jeans' back pocket. He pulled the large wad of cash out and stuffed it into his own pocket.

"Waste not, whatnot," Gerard murmured to himself and threw the wallet back at the body. He grabbed the purse off the ground and then took a hold around my wrist, gently tugging for me to move. "We need to get out of here now."

It was back into the car and taking off away from the scene without a second to spare before the sound of sirens was heard, and quickly after the sight of police cars racing toward the robbed bank and probably the reported gunshot now too. I had gotten into the back seat and tried to stay ducked down and hidden as I changed back into my own clothes as it had become routine after a heist. I was still after that, slipping into a silent and mortified state as Gerard drove on, just constantly staring out the window with a vacant stare. It was all too much to absorb at once. It was too many horrible and traumatic things witnessed and went through in such a short span that I just fucking shut down.

I only vaguely snapped out of it when I felt a tugging on my arm. The car was parked to my surprise, and Gerard was already out and beside my open door to help me out. It was dark now, and we were in the parking lot of new motel. I went through the motions silently and still in a daze as Gerard acquired a room and got us settled inside. I had been sat on the end of one of the beds. The fight with that large man playing out in my head, then his murder. Gerard really was a killer. I didn't fully snap out of my looping thoughts until I felt a sharp sting on my left hand. I turned my head to see Gerard sitting beside me, my hand in his lap, and Gerard cleaning the scrape and dried blood off my palm with a washcloth soaked with antiseptic from a first aid kit. I was still so shaken and now confused, but I just stayed quiet and let Gerard carry on with his actions. He moved on to clean my other palm, and with a gentle order I stood for a moment to strip out of my jeans so Gerard could clean the wounds on my knees.

"Why are you doing this?" I finally was able to bring myself to ask in a small voice.

"You're hurt," Gerard answered simply where was he knelt down on the floor in front of where I sat on the bed to more easily wipe at my knees.

"You killed him."

"That I did," Gerard said without a hint of remorse. He tossed the washcloth on the motel's desk for now and moved back to sit next to me. He brought a hand to the side of my face and let his thumb gently run over the dark bruise on my cheek. "That fucker..."

"You didn't have to kill him. Who are you to decide who lives and dies?"

"I'm nobody to decide that, but I made a decision anyway," Gerard shrugged. "I couldn't exactly bring you to the cops to report him, now could I? And what kind of person would I be if I let that creep just run off? So let's not think of it as me killing someone, but me saving future victims, hmm? And he hurt you. Nobody hurts you."

"Why do you care so much that he hurt me? Aren't you just gonna kill me like that next?"

Gerard remained unusually silent after those questions, and I just watched as he went about stripping down to his boxers and t-shirt. I didn't know what to think anymore. Gerard was a killer. Gerard was going to kill me, but... Gerard was taking care of me. Gerard had seemingly killed the man to protect me. In all honesty I wasn't upset that man was dead. Part of me was even maybe a little happy knowing that man was gone and could never try to hurt anybody ever again. It was seeing the actual death happen. I couldn't get the sight of the blood out of my mind. It made me believe more than ever that Gerard really was capable of killing me without a second thought, and yet why was Gerard helping me? Either somewhere in Gerard's crazy heart and mind he did care somewhat for me, or maybe he just wanted murdering me to be a pleasure carried out all by himself.

"I'm sorry you had to see all that before, Frankie." Gerard's voice finally broke the thick silence of the room. "It's been a long day. Let's get some sleep, yeah?"

I sighed deeply and scooted back on the bed and slipped under the covers. I settled down comfortably and lifted my right arm to rest up beside my head like always for Gerard to handcuff it securely to the headboard, but Gerard just climbed into his own bed and flicked off the lamp.

"Goodnight, Frankie."

"'Night," I whispered back, body still and mind racing.

I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to believe. Maybe Gerard just forgot about the handcuffs. Maybe he did it on purpose. Maybe, just maybe, this was his way of telling me that I could go.

I laid awake —I don't know how long, maybe hours— trying to figure out what I should do, my eyes constantly drawn to the car key on the desk, catching the little sliver of light shining in from a space between the pulled down window shade and the wall. I couldn't decide whether not using the handcuffs was a mistake or not on Gerard's part. Whether it was permission to leave or if I was just toying with another escape attempt. I had this screaming voice inside me to just run, but there was also a pull inside me to stay. I was so fucking confused. My mind was split in two, and I didn't know what to believe or what was right anymore. In the end it was that nagging thought within me that ended up swaying my decision, that feeling where I felt more sure that Gerard would just kill me if I stuck around. If I left now, I didn't feel like I could go to the cops though. I helped pull off robbery after robbery, and I did not expect them to believe I did it under duress. And going back home wasn't an option either. Gerard knew where I lived, plus it had been such a long time my landlord probably cleared out my shit and had a new tenant. I barely had anything to my name, I couldn't just pick up and start all over, unless... Unless I took the money too.

I could tell Gerard was asleep from the familiar sounds of those tiny snores every so often. I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could. I would still have to be very careful; Gerard always kept his gun by his pillow. Shaking and oh so carefully I opened up Gerard's duffle bag and strained to see through the darkness and pulled out a bag within. That was the bag were Gerard had been keeping all the stolen money. I opened it to make sure it was there, and indeed it was along with Gerard's other gun that he had stolen from the police officer back at the 7-Eleven. I took it all, the money and the gun, and got to my feet. I slipped on my jeans and shoes and took a silent deep breath. This was it. Just grab the keys to the car and my backpack, slip out of the motel room, and this nightmare would be over.

I got to the door, my hand on the knob to leave. This was the right decision. Wasn't it?

Notes