Stockholm Syndrome (Frerard)

4: Fake Your Death

Media: McCracken

It wasn't too long of a car ride back to Zero's cruddy apartment. An hour and a half tops. I mean normally to me that would be a hell of a trip, but it was nothing compared to the amount of driving we did the day before. And the worst part about yesterday was the fact that we weren't really going anywhere for any particular reason, just waiting for the sun to go town so he could shove a knife up my ass with no interruptions.

I stood in his apartment awkwardly after we had arrived, too timid to actually do anything. I just stood, looking at the little things he had scattered around. He had quite an abundance of funko pop figures, and they were all horror characters like Freddy Kreuger, Jason Voorhees, Chucky, Scream, all the like. It was quite ironic to me because he's literally the non-fictional version of all of them.

I didn't know where Zero was at that moment, either in the kitchen or taking a piss. Or both, he's pretty strange. My inquiries were solved when he walked out of a room, still zipping up his pants and fastening his bat-shaped belt buckle. He looked at me as he crossed the hallway into the kitchen, and I just stayed, standing in one spot, doing nothing. I knew in my mind that he wouldn't just drive a knife into my throat if I sat on the couch, but I sure as hell didn't wanna take any chances. It's nice to be at least a little cautious around someone as dangerous as him, so I'll just not do anything unless he tells me to. Yeah.

He emerged from the kitchen minutes later, with a black mug in his hands. He crossed the room and placed his mug on the oval coffee table before sitting down on the couch. He was about to reach for his mug again when the sound of a phone ringing filled the air. He drew his hand back and grabbed his phone out of his pocket, bringing it to his ear and answering it.

"Hello? Yeah. ...Actually no, he's still alive." Zero looked up at me briefly and then back down at his lap. I furrowed my eyebrows, finally giving in and slowly lowering myself onto the sofa, listening.

"That's not how I work, McCracken. You gotta problem with someone, I'll kill em'. Whatcha got on Frank?"

"...Then why didn't ya just get me to off the dad?"

"...It's inhumane."

There was a long pause. Zero's jaw was tense as he listened to the other line, and he looked up at me again.

"Fuckin- fine, I'll do it. A deal's a deal." And then he hung up. I widened my eyes, standing up off the couch and backing away. From the context of the conversation it sounded like he'd changed his mind about me.

"Zero, what were you guys talking about?" I asked in a cautious voice, my hands out in front of me, prepared to defend myself.

"He says if I don't kill ya, he will. And then he'll turn me in." Zero said slowly, his eyes narrow. He cocked his head to the side, just watching me. With every step I took away from him, he stepped even closer.

"Please... Don't, I...-" I stuttered, now backed up against the wall. Zero stood slowly, pulling his knife out of the waistband of his jeans. He approached me slowly, and I swear my heart was beating a mile a minute. I'd probably die of a heart attack by the time he actually got to do it.

"Zero..." I pleaded as he came within centimetres of me, his larger frame making me feel like an ant. My height never did anything to contribute to my small list of attributes. It was then that I started to feel that horrible feeling again. I couldn't breathe, speak, blink. It was like, that feeling you get in your chest the moment you're about to fall of a chair but longer.

I felt the cool metal on my cheek, as he ran the blade down the side of my face. It didn't break the skin, thank god. I was completely frozen at that point. Why the fuck did I even bother trusting a killer.

"You're funny, kid." He said, trailing the knife down my jawline and to my chin, tilting my head up with the tip of the knife. I swallowed hard, looking off to the side to avoid making eye contact with him.

"You really think-" he started, and my eyes flicked up to his hazel ones for a fraction of a second before I looked down to the side again. "That I would go through all that trouble.." He removed the knife and lifted his fingers to my chin, replacing the harsh cold feeling with something more gentle and warm. "That I would risk letting you get away, that I would take you to my fucking home, just to change my mind and slit your throat just like that?"

"Well.. Yeah, kinda?" I stated quietly, finally meeting and holding his gaze. His face was inches from mine, so close that I could feel his breath on my skin. He just smiled then, dropping his fingers from my chin and stepping away, sliding his knife back into his waistband and baking up before slumping down on the couch. He leaned forwards and cupped his hand around the mug he had previously placed on the table and lifted it to his lips.

"I wouldn't let my coffee go cold over you anyways, kid." He hummed before closing his eyes and taking a sip. I just stared at him in shock, my heart still pounding on high, slowly coming down. How many times was I gonna have to have a knife to my throat in a day?

"Come, sit." He spoke up after a few moments of me standing there dumbfounded.

"I- okay" I muttered before crossing the small distance and sitting down on the ratty couch myself. I crossed my legs uncomfortably and folded my hands over my knees, waiting for Zero to say something.

"So," I heard his voice speak, and looked up to meet his eyes. "You got any friends?"

"I uh, no.. Not really." I sighed, un-crossing my legs and resting my elbows on my knees, my head being held up by my hands. "I dropped out of school in grade 11 and I didn't really know anyone when I was I school anyways."

"Good."

"Hm?" I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Nobody will be lookin' for ya then. You're gonna have to fake your death, kid." He placed his mug on the coffee table once again and leaned against the back of the couch, crossing his ankle over his knee.

"That's impossible." I argued. Someone was gonna find me eventually. Unless I stayed in this shitbox forever, and I can guarantee that's not happening. And what if I want to be found? He's fuckin' crazy if he thinks I'm gonna willingly stay here with him.

"Well you either fake it or you can die for real." he said nonchalantly, shooting me a warning glance, implying that if I tried to get out he'd surely kill me. Pft, yeah cause he's totally shown that he would actually do it.

"You won't kill me." I challenged back. "cause that's not how you work, is it?"

"Don't test me." He said through gritted teeth, glaring at me. I shut my mouth before I could say anything else, and he broke his glare and looked at his phone. "I'm gonna call this fuckhead back and tell him you're dead. Don't try anything. You know he'll kill ya if he finds out you're alive." He said harshly before standing up and leaving the room while dialing the number.

I could only faintly hear Zero's voice from the next room, and I decided it was best to do what he says and not 'try anything.' It's weird feeling safer with a serial killer than you would out in the world.

Minutes later, Zero came back into the room and threw his phone on the couch before disappearing into another doorway, possibly his bedroom. He came back out with a thick leather jacket hoodie hybrid kinda thing on over his previous attire which consisted of a tshirt and yet another hoodie, along with a long black and grey striped scarf.

"C'mon, we've got people to see." He stated before picking up his phone again and pulling some black leather combat boots over his feet. Confusion hit me, wasn't I supposed to be 'dead'?

"But-"

"Okay I've got people to see. You're coming with me, you can keep fuckin' quiet and stay in the car, though." He gave me a warning look before grabbing pulling the hood of the underlying hoodie over his greasy hair, then grabbing his keys and swinging the front door open and stepping outside. "C'mon."