Zero Zero

11: resurrection, or a recovery of someone once known

frank's home was nice. comfortable. warm.

it was much more colorful than anywhere I could remember being, even in the distant deja-vu-type parts of my memory.

the warm-tones lights contrasted the cold florescents which flooded The Institution's halls. the floors weren't grey and tiled, instead a pale wood, even having a colorful carpet off to one side of the space.

and the walls, they were a different sort of white. like the lights, they were warmer. sunlight bounded off of them, filling the space with a sort of invitation.

a dark green couch sat opposite a television surrounded by full shelves, anchoring the carpet to the floor. each place felt occupied perfectly. no eerie vacancies. no cold, surgical, bullshit.

even the papers, sat atop a table, remained anything but cold. folded into thirds, warmed by the tone of sunshine, messily stacked upon others.

but I remembered somewhere else. somewhere far off. I remembered the walls, of some distant place, like this but different, being a shade of dark orange. I wondered where it was. when I had been there. but it seemed those deja vu type memories were bubbling up far more often now.

frank clutched my hand tight. he was home, after so long.

I did just the same, held his just as tight, turning both our knuckles pale as ghosts. though I doubted that we had the same reason.

though I wasn't looking at him, I could still hear the sniffling beside me. the moment had a somber tinge, but it was still sweet to the core.

he didn't talk and I didn't talk. as if we had some sort of agreement in the silence. until we could be certain we were alone.

"your bedroom is still where it was, as it was, I haven't touched anything." his mother said, her tone hushed and somber.

and almost like she'd failed in some life-changing circumstance. even though none of this was her fault, this was their fucking fault.

"well," she continued, "I haven't changed anything. couldn't bring myself to. I'll step out for a bit, go get you boys some clothes and stuff. I'll call your father over, to keep a watch on you two."

she cleared her throat. like something was missing, a symptom of having said too much the wrong way. I knew the feeling all too well. even if I didn't know her reasons.

a few moments of still silence passed.

"okay." frank said quietly. but normally. "just, use cash, please. the place we escaped from, they might track you. purchases like that might tip 'em off. be safe."

he smiled and waved good-bye, but didn't leave room for a word back before he took my hand and fled. or perhaps that's too dramatic, but that's how it had cemented itself in my memory, as he led me up the staircase.

the upstairs was different. carpet covered. pale orange walls. white-painted doors.

we made our way through the third, frank's old room. even though there was so much stuff  crammed into the space, the room was tidy. various small objects stood displayed atop a shelf of books and drawers.

the space was probably twice the size of the rooms back at The Institution, but it felt infinitely more cozy. as if the walls were closing in to embrace whoever walked into the space.

frank closed the door behind us and just collapsed. he clung to me, and I clung to him, though in a different fashion. just hugged him close, as he sniffled into that once-pristine shirt.

it was strange, to see him like this. that same person who had been so outrageously obnoxious inside The Institution, now broken to a million pieces that we were out of there.