Dichotomous Thinking

XI

When Pete and Gerard opened the door to Bert's place, him and the demon were nowhere to be found.

Gerard murmured, "Downstairs."

So that's where they went.

As they approached the door they heard a voice and a loud, happy laugh. Pete didn't know who had spoken and who had laughed. Gerard did.

He hadn't heard Frank laugh like that in a while.

Gerard opened the door quickly, watching as Bert and Frank jumped away from each other yet another time.

"This is getting old." Gerard groaned, reaching for his gun. He froze when he looked closer, no, better.

The black of Frank's jacket had turned into a whitish gray. The tar in his eyes was replaced with hurt and confused brown irises, though they were so dark they could have been black.

When his eyes fell on Pete, black slowly started to crawl back up his arms, as though it was in his veins. It coloured his clothes in tar, almost as if it was a shell, a veil, something to hide himself in.

Bert slowly stepped in front of Frank, his jaw set and his eyes narrowed. The black in Frank's veins seemed to recede slowly, his dark eyes getting slightly lighter. Gerard could see the hazel, now. Gerard could see the shock, the 'what are you doing?' look, on Frank's face.

And suddenly, Bert was on the ground, holding his now bleeding stomach. Gerard staring at Pete in shock, Pete's gun smoking.

Frank wouldn't stop screaming when Bert's body went limp.

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Really, Jamia wasn't sure what she was expecting when Frank came home. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't this.

Frank was pulled into the place by Gerard, tears streaming down his face and practically frothing at the mouth. Pete was following behind him, looking dazed and confused.

"I'm going to my room." Was all Pete said, quiet and shocked. He made his way around Gerard struggling to hold Frank and started down the hallway.

Jamia could only watch in horror as Frank broke free from Gerard's grip, grabbing onto Pete and pushing him against the wall. Jamia stared as Frank landed his first blow to Pete's face, red blood vibrant against white walls.

Frank's constant chanting of the word "Murderer" while he landed blow after blow on Pete's body was what made her blood run cold.

She should have realized that Frank wasn't hurting Pete without reason. He wasn't like that. It didn't matter, she had to keep her own kind safe. She took out her gun, the safety turning off with a soft click. It that noise that got Frank to turn, staring at Jamia with wide eyes. It was that noise that turned the tables, Pete landing his first punch in Frank's pretty, pretty face. Frank landed on the floor, blood streaming from his nose. Frank let out a loud groan, stumbling back to his feet... Or trying to, at least. It didn't work, of course not. Instead, Pete landed a kick to Frank's stomach, causing Frank to hunch up.

Pete kneeled down, eye to eye with Frank. "I'm not a murderer. I rightfully kill those that choose to associate with scum like you." He hissed out.

Frank stared at Pete quietly with defiance in those tar black eyes of his. "Then you're no better than I am." He sneered suddenly, surprising Jamia. Frank would never say that.

Pete seemed equally shocked, standing up and continuing to walk to his room, Frank grinning after him.

Frank stood up unsteadily after that, taking an unsteady step towards Jamia, who pointed her gun at him with shaking hands. She watched, though, how his face slowly morphed into something gentler, friendlier... But she couldn't shake the chill she got from those tar black eyes.

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You guys I'm LIVING a tornado came near my city BUT DIDN'T COME ATTACK US

xoSoph