Stockholm Syndrome (Frerard)

1: Frank Iero Must Die

Media: Frank

I don't recall ever hating my dad's job as much as I did right now. It was dark. And cramped. And smelled of mildew. I tried to ignore it, but I was sure I heard a few tiny feet scatter across the floor. I let out a shaky breath, peaking out of a crack in the small door that kept me hidden.

Dad was out right now. But, even though I was home alone, there were heavy footsteps and a wrecked voice calling out my name in the room that was supposed to be empty. I was unsure who it belonged to, but it definitely wasn't familiar. The voice belonged to a man, though it was kind of a high tone. The footsteps turned down my hallway, and I could faintly see the figure of the man now, but the glint of light on something metal caught my eye before I got a good look at his face. He has a knife. I gasped as my eyes traveled up to his face.

It almost felt like I was the victim in a creepypasta, as he was pale as a ghost, with dark raven hair falling in front of his face that was too dark to be natural. I couldn't make out much of his face due to the hair that almost seemed to shield it, especially under the stairs where I have limited vision. I pulled away from the door slowly, silently, bringing my knees to my chest. I buried my face into the fabric of my pants that cloaked my knees, hoping that maybe, if I tried hard enough, I would just disappear.

"Frankieee..." He drew out the end of my pet name, as the footsteps neared the small wooden door I was hiding behind. Sometimes Dad's work put us in danger. Well, we were always in danger because of it, honestly. This isn't the first time i've had to hide from strangers in my own house. They never found me though, the door was well hidden which was a bonus on my side.

"Frankie, someone wants ya dead.." The voice called out, drawing out the last word almost in a sing-song voice, causing my heart to race faster than it already had been, which shouldn't have been possible. The footsteps were right outside the tiny door now, and he was dragging the knife along it. The sound of the cold metal on the old wood was disturbing to say the least.  I didn't dare to make a sound when the footsteps stopped, and I thought for a second that i'd been found. The light that shone through the small crack faltered slightly, and I knew he was standing only feet away from me, the thin sheet of wood the only thing separating us. 

"Frankie." He sounded content, and I could hear the smile in his voice as he stood there, un-moving. "Daddy's not home, is he?"  I stayed silent. I squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath. There was a lock on the inside of the door which made me feel safer but it could easily be broken if someone were to kick the door hard enough.

"You may as well say something, I'm gonna find you eventually." And the footsteps began again. I let out the breath I was holding, before crawling forwards again and looking through the crack in the door, observing that he was no longer in the hallway. My path to the front door is clear... I was debating on whether I should just stay here and wait til' he gives up- which i was clear that that chance was very low- or try to sneak out and leave the apartment fully.  The chances of me not dying were probably stronger if I wasn't in the same apartment as a scary lookin' dude with a knife, so I decided on attempting to sneak out.

I slowly slid open the lock, and pushed the door open as quietly and slowly as possible. I crawled out agonizingly slow, making sure to hold my breath the whole time. I looked down the hallway in both directions, hearing nothing but the footsteps now in another room. I stood slowly, and closed the door. A small sound filled my ears. When I realized what had done, I froze.

The door creaked. Fuck, I need to get out, now. 

"There you are, Frankie!" The man spoke happily, turning down my hallway again. I didn't even bother being quiet anymore since he already knew I was here. I just slid out of the crawlspace and ran down the hallway to the front door. I could hear the man behind me as my fingers tried frantically to unlock the stupid lock on the doorknob, and it wasn't exactly in my favor that it's been faulty since we moved in. I finally got it unlocked though, and had my hand on the metallic doorknob ready to twist it open when I suddenly felt cold metal pressed against my neck.  

I froze, unable to move. If I did. He'd slit my throat right then and there, I was sure of it. Maybe I still had a chance if I just remained quiet, and didn't try anything drastic until I had a better plan. 

"Let go." He whispered, and I did. I slid my hand away from the doorknob. I had my eyes shut tightly, and I felt a whimper rising in the back of my throat. 

"Good." He reached forwards and locked the door again. "Do you know why i'm here?" 

I shook my head slowly, feeling the sharp blade of the knife cut into my skin slightly. I shuttered, my heart racing wildly. 

"Your daddy's not a good man, kid." He whispered in my ear, and I could feel his hot breath on my neck. "I'm here to take away his happiness." I then felt myself being pulled back slowly into the house, away from the door. He released me from his grip, and I still stood, un-moving. The man started taking slow steps around me, until he stood in front of me.  

I slowly raised my head, and looked at his face which I could see much more clearly now. His eyes were sunken in and had dark shadows all around them. I couldn't tell if he was just wearing dark makeup, or if he was just sick or sleep deprived or if he got two black eyes or whatever the situation. His nose was upturned, and his pale lips were upturned into a sly smirk, barely darker than the rest of his pasty complexion.

"You gonna say somethin'?" I didn't move. "hm?" He prompted, placing the flat side of the knife under my chin, lifting my head to look at him straight on. I opened my mouth to speak, but no matter how hard I tried to force them out, I spoke no words.

"alright, then. C'mon, i'll take you somewhere else so your dad wont have to clean up the mess, m'kay?" I had to find a way to escape. He said he's taking me somewhere, and that meant we'd have to go outside. Maybe I could make a run for it... 

"and remember, i'll find you and kill you even if you run. Got it? Stay still and you shouldn't feel a thing. So do yourself a favor and do what I say." He chuckled before shoving his knife in the waistband of his tight black jeans, pulling his shirt over it to keep it hidden. He grabbed my wrist tightly and dragged me to the door, opening it and leading me through, not even bothering to close it behind us as he dragged me down the hallway to the elevator. It was nearly two in the morning, so nobody in the apartment building heard a thing due to their sleeping states.

I still remained silent, too terrified to do anything other than what he told me to do. Maybe if I listened to him, he'd let me go. He's probably done this many times, though. He's probably had to deal with multiple people trying to escape, and he was probably pretty good at preventing that from happening by now.

Cold air bit my skin as I was pulled out the main entrance of the building, as I was only in a t-shirt and a pair of thin plaid pyjama pants in the dead of a New York winter. Thankfully there was no snow, as my bare feet wouldn't have been able to stand walking in it. Not that that would matter in the span of two hours since they'd probably be separated from my body in a ditch somewhere. I heard keys jingle and a then a small beep, and a car parked right out front's headlights turned on.  The door was opened and I was pushed inside the car, and I was quite baffled by the fact that i was in the front seat rather than the trunk.

He climbed in the other side and shoved the keys in the ignition, and the car roared to life. We sped off then, and I was just left with my mixed up thoughts for the whole ride to wherever the fuck my impending doom was awaiting us.