Demolition Lovers ✔

6

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Bea dried her red locks as she stepped out of the bathroom, happy to have a new set of fresh clothes and simple creature comforts. Franky's shower was absolute bliss, and it was the first time bea had been clean in weeks. Sure she washed where and when she could, but having one of the most recognizable faces in the country was no pro when it came to ducking into restrooms when no one was looking, or so she thought. Staying at Franky's for just over a week now, she was glad she'd taken the chance of contacting her.

I few weeks out she'd nearly been caught when sneaking into a womans back garden, but luckily she'd escaped thanks to the help of a few rou
gh teens. Come to think of it, she nearly got caught with them too-her fault entirely- because of her opened mouth staring at one in the group. One of the girls there was almost a dead ringer of her daughter Debbie, bless her heart.

Bea sighed and walked into the kitchen, making herself a sandwich and coffee. She put her cup on the table and began to wander around the apartment, stopping every so often and picking things up. Franky's apartment was fairly bare, compared to her old room back at Wentworth, which was over decorated with mainly posters of semi naked ladies, she wondered why. Maybe it wa--

Knock knock.

Bea froze in her tracks, looking down the hallway at the door. She crouched down despite the door being solid wood, but instinct said anyone could be watching. She held her breath.

"If someone knocks at the door, its just a courier. I've been waiting for a parcel. Sign for it will you?"

Bea remembered frankys message that morning. She looked out of the window that lead onto the street. Sure enough there was a red postage van out there. She pulled her hoodie up and opened the door.

"Francesca, what are you--"

The smartley dressed woman's eyes widened. "Your not Francesca, wait-Beatrice Smith!"

Bea slammed the door shut and grabbed her backpack. Looking for a way out she opened the balcony door and looked over the three storey building. She could hear the woman hysterically screaming into a phone. However she had no time to listen as she clambered down the old rusty fire escape. Her muscles screamed as she dangled from the bottom of it, swinging like a monkey from the bottom rung. She started running as soon as her feet hit the pavement, legs pumping furiously. As she turned a corner, she could hear sirens racing down the street behind her. She tries to blend into a crowd as they approached her street. The Cars passed. Bea blew out a breath. But suddenly-

A hand locked around her forearm.

She turned, defeat in her eyes.

An officer stared back at her, grinning triumphantly.

She had been beaten.

🔽🔼🔽🔼🔽🔼🔽🔼🔽🔼🔽🔼🔽

Franky Doyle walked home from work, heading home with bags among bags of new clothes and groceries. She'd had a good day at the deli where she worked part time, and had been promoted. Overall, she was wasn't say she was happy with her life at the moment, more toward content.

She turned the corner into her street, and stopped dead. Police cars swarmed around the area, parked outside her apartment and all. She could see officers raiding her room, set up on the balcony and all. Quickly, she calmed herself and parked alongside the curb where she could see her case manager. She got out.

"Sheryl? What the hell is going on?!"

Sheryl turned and gave franky a grim look. "It looks bad Franky, "

Franky worried her lip. Calm. Be calm. She thought. Just then officers came trapsing from around the corner with a certain beaten up red head. She faked surprise. "Bea?! What the fuck?! Where did you come from!" She yelled marching up to the officers. One held her back. "Detective James Garrot. Your Franky Doyle then?"

"Yes I'm Franky fucking Doyle--"

"You know anything about this? Bea Smith was chased from your apartment. You know how much time you get for habouring a criminal?"

"What the actual fuck--"

"I already told you Garrot! She never knew. I was gonna surprise her tonight--" bea yelled as they threw her in the back of a van.

Detective Garrot grabbed her wrist. "I think its time we have a chat down at the station," the detective said.

"What--"

"Franky just go. It'll do you no good to resist. " Sheryl said.

Nice timing,  Franky thought bitterly.

She swore, if she got put back in that shithole of a prison, she was going to murder Bea smith.

Personally.

✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴✴

"So your absolutely sure you didn't know Smith was in your apartment?"

"For the last time, NO!" Franky yelled. She was growing increasingly agro with this son of a bitch, detective or not. She'd been 'down at the station' for over six hours now, and it must've been near or past midnight by now.

"Look can I just go home now? Please? I've got a class in the morning, and work a few hours later. Some of us have to work hard for our money, unlike some who just love! To sit around and annoy people all day. Not directly pointing any fingers. " franky said. She swiveled her arm around and extended her finger, pointing at the officer. Another in the corner of the room chuckled.

"Good. I just wanted to make sure you weren't doing anything illegal."

Franky rolled her eyes and yawned. "No shit Sherlock,"

Detective Garrot motioned for the officer and got up. "Alright. We're done here for a while. Please escort Ms Doyle home safely. Franky,"

Franky gave a tight lipped smile. She was done with screws and all that illegal shit. To be honest, she didn't even know why she was studying law. When she thought about it, she supposed it was the only thing she really had any exceptional knowledge about. It was a hobbie, more of a talent for arguing and not backing down. Hell the only person she'd ever backed down to was Alex--

"Damn. Don't do this Franky ". She thought.

She attempted to build up a wall to block out the thoughts and restrain herself from thinking about Alex. But she was weak, and the wall broke. And before she knew it she was home.

And as she arrived, her thoughts were consumed with and by Alex.

But so were her nightmares.