Just don't hurt me - Frerard

Chapter 7 - Scar Tissue

Frank

The realization hit me as hard as the cold did when we stepped out of the car. I was going to enter a stranger's house. A stranger who had knocked me out and kidnapped me. I shivered. I was freezing. And I was terrified.

He'd punched me hard in the face when I refused to cooperate with him. Who knew what he was capable of? He hadn't hurt me for the past couple of hours, we'd been driving in the car or out in public, but now that there was only the two of us I sure as hell wasn't safe.

"What are you going to do to me?" I asked again, my voice a soft quiver.

The stranger didn't answer, he just stared at me. He was thinking, I could tell from the way he furrowed his eyebrows and how his nostrils would flare.

"Just don't hurt me," I pleaded, "Please, don't hurt me."

"I won't," he immediately said.

I stared at him, frowning. I couldn't tell if he was lying or not. I glanced behind me before taking a few steps back. I had to do something. I had to run away. I didn't know where the hell I was but I had to find help, I couldn't stay with this dangerous psychopath. To think I'd been laughing and eating candy with him not so long ago.

"Frank, don't be scared," he said softly, taking a step forward.

"Why shouldn't I be scared?" I retorted, "You knocked me out and kidnapped me! You drove me out in the middle of nowhere! You know practically everything about me and I don't even know your name!"

"My name's Gerard." He said quickly. "I'm Gerard. I'm twenty one, not twenty three. I like coffee and cigarettes."

I stared at Gerard, repeatedly saying his name in my head. He was looking at me, blinking, as if he couldn't believe he'd just told me all that. As if he hadn't said that much to anyone. That wasn't hard to believe.

"Where are we?" I asked calmly.

I felt safer for some reason. Maybe it was because his name sounded sweeter than I expected. He was looking at me through his bangs, his head hanging a little lower. He'd stuffed both his hands in his jean pockets and was shuffling dirt with his feet. There was no expression on his face. I swallowed.

"This is my place," he said in a low voice.

Then he locked the car and gestured for me to come over. I didn't move. He pulled out his house key and unlocked the door, his eyes still on me.

"You should come in," he said. "You're shivering."

I quickly glanced around, but it was too dark to see anything. Even though I didn't exactly trust Gerard, going inside his house was my best option.

We stepped in and he closed the door behind me, taking his coat off. I looked around, peeking through the living room door. The place smelled nice - sweet and comfortable, but with a touch of old alcohol and cold cigarette ash. Gerard turned the light on, gesturing to the sofa.

"I'm just going to get some drinks." He said with a small smile.

I nodded and he walked to the basement door, opening it and then closing it behind him. I wandered around, looking at the drawings and empty bottles and cigarette butts scattered across his floor. There was a piano against the wall, but it was covered in dust. On the other side was a staircase. I walked toward it, wondering if I should go upstairs or not. I figured he probably wouldn't mind if I visited a little. I climbed up the stairs to the second floor, looking at the framed paintings on the walls. The hall upstairs was completely dark, and one door was half open, letting a small beam of moonlight slip through. I pushed it open more, stepping inside the room. It was almost empty, except for a chair in the center of it, and an empty bottle of vodka lying beneath it. I stepped forward, trying to figure out what that room was supposed to be for. I turned my head to the right, looking at the wall the chair was facing.