Before Killing Was Cool ➊ FRERARD

30: I Found Where They Buried Me

C h a p t e r | T h i r t y

Present Day - Frank

When my parents died, I refused to believe it. I couldn't accept the fact that the two innocent people who brought me up and cared for me my whole life could drop dead in a single moment - it seemed impossibly unfair, the only ones I loved being ripped away so quickly and irreversibly.

I did love them, didn't I? My entire life I've had a very few amount of people to guide me into knowing what love entails; is it self-serving - hoping for the smell of lasagne when you come back from school, trusting your friends not to rat you out when planning to steal cigarettes or shoot up a school? Or maybe it is selfless after all - throwing yourself in front of the barrel of a gun to save your brother's life.

I was starting to learn. I had a ruthless grip on my humanity, shaking the shoulders of my hatred for the world. There was no need for that, no sufficient excuse to smother the ones who spoke out against me with the heavy pillow of death. Now that I know what it's like to die - to be young and trapped forever - I can't believe I thought it was my place to take away other people's lives. Karma for what I did presented itself in the way of a bullet through my torso, a bloody end on a cafeteria floor. Did I get what I deserved?

And now is no different. My Gerard can't be gone, because then I'll truly have nobody.

It's not his fault that any of this happened. I should have left him alone. I should have dropped him off at the side of Route 95, kicked up some dust and drove to Mexico. I never should have interfered in his life, but at least he understands what love is through it all: love is taking a bullet to protect your family. Maybe I should have done that for mine before I lost them. Then we wouldn't be here and I wouldn't have the feeling of having lost everything that ever mattered to me.

He wouldn't leave me.

He said he'd never leave me. He promised he loved me, that we'd be together.

I think of the ring I should have stolen. I thought robbing a jewellery store was too hard and it could wait, that I would make it up to him in due course. We would return to the cornfields every week all the way up to the harvest, watching the world die and grow again, towering above our heads. I should have buried the shotgun in a maze and let the dirt seal its fate.

We were going to spend the rest of our lives together.

As far as I knew, we would be that old couple on the porch. Maybe it would be here in Georgia but undoubtably we would run out of money, and perhaps then we'd try our hand at heading back north. He could have watched over Mikey, called him one more time - maybe eventually he would hear us. I would let Gerard make a million calls - and let them be tracked, let us be taken into custody - if he could have lived.

This can't happen, not now, not like this.

The light is gone, and there's no way to reach the other side. There's no way he's coming back or we'll ever meet again.

I had my chance and it's been prised from me like a newborn from a mother. My hands and arms cradle a blanket of empty air, willing for the one I love to take its place. There is no noise, no contact.

Suddenly I don't give a damn if there's a God up there or not (though from everything that's just happened, it's very possible), because either way, I'm praying.

"Please," I fall to my knees, "please, no. Don't - don't take him from me, please, I'll do anything. I love him." My hands shake in front of me and I wipe them across the dirt, begging to be free of myself and my sins, a second shot, another chance, anything. Then I'm screaming. "Gerard! GERARD! TAKE ME, PLEASE TAKE ME! JUST GIVE HIM BACK TO ME!"