Bloodstained Bathtubs and an Absence of Death (Frerard)

1 - Why Won't You Die?!

With one quick movement, I threw back the shower curtain, revealing a shirtless Frank, who gazed up at me calmly from the bottom of the empty bathtub, seemingly not phased at all by my presence. He barely even blinked at the sight of me. I was a stranger holding a fucking knife. I'm sure any average person, even if he was drunk, would at least look a little bit surprised upon seeing me.

That wasn't going to discourage me though. I was still going to receive the satisfaction of watching him take his last dying breath. Stepping into the bathtub with him, I kneeled down on top of him and threw my knife back behind my head, only to bring it straight down into his chest.

Thankfully, I got a reaction out of him from that. I watched his face intently as he squeezed his eyes shut and winced from the pain. Soon after, I pulled the knife back out and my eyes switched focus to the fresh blood oozing out of chest and dripping down his sides. My smile grew wide with delight.

However, to my surprise, he suddenly spoke up, "Oww, why didn't you give me warning?". Glancing back up at his face, I noticed that he was giggling. Who the hell laughs as they're being stabbed to death? This guy may have been more fucked up than I was.

I decided to play along with him, trying not to get upset with how things were playing out, "Murderers don't give warnings, dumbass".

However, I almost wished I hadn't said anything at all when he replied with, "You're a murderer? Then how come you're all hot and stuff?"

I had never been so thrown off guard, "Hot? You think I'm hot? I'm trying to kill you! How is that hot? How are you even talking so easily right now?! You're supposed to be dying!"

"You're handsome as hellll," he said as he playfully tried to touched my nose, but missed horribly. As I stared at him dumbfoundedly, he shifted a bit underneath me, as if he was trying to get comfortable with the bleeding stab wound in his chest.

At that moment, I suddenly lost my temper. I was beyond confused and I hated it. This guy was supposed to be terrified of me, yet here he was complimenting my appearance. So, as he began to mutter nonsense, I swung the knife back down again and again, wanting the whole murder to just be over with.

"Hey, quit ittt," he groaned, weakly attempting to slap the knife from my grasp as if I were just merely poking him with it. I hadn't had this issue before. My victims always died within the first few stabs, but this guy didn't even seem close. He wasn't even screaming!

"Why won't you fucking die?!" I finally shouted at him, extremely irritated that somehow, he was still very much alive. Then, with all my might, I chucked the bloody knife out the bathroom door, into the hallway where it hit the ground with a loud, rattling sound.

"What's your name, gorgeous?" Frank randomly asked me, still grinning ear to ear.

Within seconds, I wrapped my fingers around his throat and began squeezing, hoping to strangle him to death instead. He definitely struggled to talk then.

"Gerard," I informed him as his face began to turn bright red. "And it's the last name you're going to hear".

"Well, G-Gerard," he choked out, barely fighting against me. "W-will you go o-out with me?"

There was no way he could possibly be serious. He clearly wasn't thinking straight. I let go of him.

"No, I will not," I scoffed. "After all of this shit you've put me through, the last thing I'd want to do is go out with you".

He didn't seem to listen to my answer anyways. I watched him as he started to smear the blood from his wounds all over his chest.

"What's all this red stuff?" he asked, examining the blood that was now staining his fingers.

I leaned my head back against the cold tiles of the shower and sighed. What was I going to do with this guy? He proved himself to be much harder to kill than most people, but was it even worth my time to try to finish him off?

Maybe he was just invincible or something...

I suppose I didn't have to kill him. He was very drunk, so maybe he wouldn't remember anything that happened tomorrow morning... Who was I kidding? His sober self couldn't possibly be stupid enough to not be able to put two and two together. He may have not died from the stab wounds (yet), but they'd still be there tomorrow. And there was no way he wouldn't question it. And if he remembered what I looked like and what I did to him, I could possibly get caught. Then, once the authorities connected all the murders that had been occuring around town back to me, I'd surely serve a life sentence in prison. Or worse...

Before my mind went into full-on panic, I remembered that Frank had called me "hot". I had never been called that before by anyone, especially not by one of my victims. Although, I doubt he actually meant it. It was more probable that the alcohol was the one that decided to randomly blurt it out. Not that I cared or anything. If someone ever actually liked me as more than a friend, I sure as hell hoped it wasn't someone like him.

Either way, I continued to sit on the other side of the bathtub to Frank, contemplating the situation. After a few minutes of staring off into space, I decided what needed to be done.

"Hey, Frank, how would you like to go on a little field trip?" I asked, sitting up to look him in the eyes. However, I quickly realized that Frank's eyes weren't open anymore, nor was he moving.

I wasn't expecting to feel the ping of disappointment in my heart that suddenly occurred upon seeing him like that. I guess he just needed a bit more time to finally pass away. I was going to have to dispose of his body after all.

I didn't feel so energized and enthusiastic anymore for some reason. I took my time as I climbed out of the tub and ventured out into the hallway to retrieve my knife.

Afterwards, I went to grab some clean-up supplies from my car. Once I returned back to the bathroom, I climbed into the tub again and picked Frank up so that I could carry him out bridal style.

Oddly enough, once I managed to get him out of the bathroom, I felt movement in my arms. I rapidly looked down to see him lean his head against my chest. He was still alive. He was just asleep.

With a shy smile, I quickly changed directions and laid him down on his bed, before I rested my head on his blood-soaked chest to confirm that he was, in fact, still breathing. Considering everything he'd been through that night, I assumed he'd be fine if I left him alone for just a brief moment, so I ran to my car yet again, where I searched through the very back of my trunk for my untouched emergency supplies, that I never thought I'd used on anyone but myself.

Frank was still sound asleep when I returned to his bedroom, so I decided it'd be best to go to work on him right away. Quite honestly, I didn't think he really needed me to stitch and bandage up the wounds I gave him, because by some miracle he still seemed perfectly fine, but I decided to just in case. Truthfully, I somewhat knew what I was doing thanks to some helpful background knowledge. I just hoped it'd be good enough to keep him alive all night.

But why was I trying to insure that he didn't end up dying after all? Well, obviously because I was going to bring him home and save him to be killed a different day. Sure, it was extremely out of the ordinary for a murderer to do such a thing, but I didn't care. I was still going to kill him eventually. I just had a change of plans is all.

Then, when I finished taking care of all of the stab wounds and was admiring my work, out of the corner of my eye I could've sworn I saw him smile. He was probably just dreaming, but deep down I actually thought it was kind of... nevermind.

After throwing his shirt back on, that he had apparently tossed on the floor earlier, I picked him up again and continued to carry him down the stairs, being extra careful to not accidentally drop him along the way. Eventually, I did manage to get him outside, and instead of the trunk of my car, I gently laid him down in the backseat.

Once I finished cleaning up all of the blood from white bathtub and shower, leaving his house as it was when I had first come in, I returned to find Frank thankfully still sleeping in the car where I had left him.

Without a second thought, I drove off into the night with my supposed-to-be-dead victim.