Stockholm Syndrome

Chapter Fourteen

"What do you mean, you want to go back?" Hal asked in a harsh tone, legs crossed as he sat facing me on his bed. I was sat up too, my own legs criss-crossed as I looked back at him with guilt.

"I miss him..." I reasoned, carding a hand through my hair and then letting it drop in my lap. I looked down at my hands, picking mindlessly at my nails.

"No, Frankie. I'm not taking you back. I can't f*****g believe you."

"It's my decision! My life! McCrackhead isn't out there to kill me and I know you won't. It's not like I don't wanna see you anymore, we can go out publicly this way. I can have a life." I explained, hoping he'd understand. The more I thought about it, I really was the only thing left that my dad had. I have no idea what he could be getting into right now. I needed to see if he was okay.

Hal scoffed, shaking his head. "What happened to 'my dad doesn't love me, he wouldn't care if I died, I hate my life'? Did I have to listen to all your complaining for nothing? Were you lying to me?"

"No! I've just had more time to think about it! Let me just go back and tell my dad I'm fine. Then I won't be missing. I'll tell him I ran away. I don't wanna play dead any longer." I sighed.

"No." Was all he said. I could tell he was thinking about something, but he wouldn't say it.

"Why?"

"I have my reasons. No."

"I wanna know your reasons."

"They're private." Hal un-crossed his legs and stood up from the bed, stepping towards the bedroom door with his hands in his hair, tugging on the ends stressfully. "And I'm not opening up to someone who's gonna leave me." He dropped his hands and opened the door. He didn't walk through it, just opened it. "Get out and let me think about shit."

I knew it wouldn't take long. He gave me rights to his bedroom just yesterday and now he's kicking me out. I knew he'd want to be alone at some point. "As you wish." I grimaced as I got off the bed, making my way to the open door. I stopped in my tracks and stood in the doorway for a second, contemplating if I should hug him or kiss him or if I should ignore him. I'd love to do the former but he was kind of being an unpleasant candidate for intimacy right now. I just grunted and kept walking.

I went into the living room and sat down on the couch, propping my elbow up on the arm of the sofa and resting my chin on my hand. I don't think Hal understood what I was trying to say. I wasn't going back to leave him. I wasn't going back just to live with my dad. I wanted to check on my dad and make sure he wasn't doing anything harmful to himself. He has access to almost every drug in New York. And in doing that, it would clear up my missing person's report, and I wouldn't have to hide anymore. And then I could be with him freely. We could go out and be in public and do things and I could even get a job and help him with his rent, it would fix so many things. He would understand eventually.

I heard the door open slowly, as it let out that awful creak it always did. I didn't look up as Hal entered the living room and sat beside me.

"I'll take you to New York." He grumbled. I looked up then, surprised at how fast he had changed his mind. "But," oh, there's a catch. "You're coming back after you tell him you're fine."

"Well yeah, that was the original pl-"

"Tell your dad you ran away and found someone and that his living style is too destructive for you and that you're gonna go live with the person you found while you were gone." He closed his eyes. "You're coming back right after you tell him."

I sat for a moment, thinking. I guess all he needed to know was that I was alive and okay. I knew he was gonna be pissed. He was gonna be f*****g livid that I was leaving again but- I wouldn't have to deal with it then. I wouldn't be around to deal with the aftermath.

"Okay." I agreed, and he nodded slowly.

"Good." He opened his eyes and let out a long breath, turning his head to look at me. "This is so f*****g stupid." He then got up off the couch and went back to his room. He returned a minute later, in a new change of clothes. "Let's go now."

"I- I don't even know what I'm gonna say!"

"Plan in the car. You got two hours." He spat, pulling his shoes on. I sighed heavily, before standing up and following him, pulling on my own shoes. No words were spoken as I followed him out to the car, my hood up to hide my face as always. It was f*****g horrible.

I got in the car and so did he, and we still sat in silence as he began to drive. What would I say? 'Hi dad, I ran away and turned emo (that explains the hair) and I'm just here to say I'm alive and that I'm going back to live with my serial killer boyfriend so bye again.' Along those lines, I guess. I think he'd take that over the truth any day.

"Can I ask why you're so against this? Nothing will change except the fact that I can go out and get a job and have a life, I can even help you with bills and stuff, I can have friends, I-"

"Exactly." He spoke, his mouth set in a firm line and his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he drove, eyes not moving from the road. He cast me a sideways glance for a split second before opening his mouth to say something, then closing it and reached up to grab sunglasses out of a small overhead compartment. He placed them over his eyes and kept driving, the grimace not leaving his expression.

What did he mean, 'exactly'? He didn't want that? He enjoyed having me holed up in his house not being able to do anything? Did he like paying rent from an unsteady income? He didn't know when he was gonna get another call. What if he never got one? It's not every day someone wants to hire a hitman. I'm surprised he's managed for this long. I probably looked stupid still staring at him like I just heard my dog died. Actually no, I was looking at him like he just killed my dog in front of me. I shut my mouth, nodding slightly as I turned my head forwards and then looked down at my lap. I guess that's how it is. Maybe he was just a psychopath holding me hostage and playing with my feelings.

"Frankie-" he said, still looking forward. "Frankie just trust me. I have my reasons."

*****************

"Are you sure you still want to do this..." Hal asked. We were in the parkade of my apartment, sitting in the car.

"Yes. I'll come back down when I'm done. I don't know how long that'll be." I spoke flatly. I wasn't changing my mind.

I opened the car door and stepped out, walking briskly to the elevator. I pressed the correct floor and waited for it to open. I turned around and watched Hal as the elevator door closed, blocking both of our views from each other. As soon as he was out of my sight, I regretted not kissing him before I left. He probably thinks I hate him. I wasn't even sure what I felt right now.

I sighed as I stepped off the elevator and walked down the hall to my apartment, staring at the door. Apartment 267. Except the seven was sideways and the two was merely a figment of my imagination, the only evidence that it was ever there was the fact that all the other rooms on this floor started in the two hundreds.

I lifted my hand, making a fist, hesitating before knocking on the door. I knew my dad was behind that door. I've been missing for weeks- I have no idea what's gonna happen from here on.

"Who's there?" The familiar voice called. Finally, a familiar voice.

There was a lump in my throat now. I could barely even say my own name. "F-Francesca.," I said quietly, and then I heard footsteps and the door opened immediately. I looked up timidly at the taller man, as he grabbed my shirt and yanked me inside, slamming the door behind me.

"Where the f**k did you go?!" He spat, and my eyes trailed down to the band tied around his bicep, then to the needles and baggies sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"I-" I didn't even know where to begin. "I uh.."

"Talk. Now."

"I r-ran away... I" my gaze was still resting on the needles. I knew he was high right now. I was gonna have to pick my words carefully.

"Where the f**k, did you go." He repeated, and I started to shake. "And what the f**k did you do to your hair?"

"Dad, listen... I-" I took a deep breath. "I left because... I can't be around um, your drugs... And I.. I came back to tell you that um, I've been staying with a friend of mine and I'm gonna keep staying there until I can move out and... If you love me you'll understand that this is the best thing for me..." I spoke slowly and calmly, trying not to set him off. I closed my eyes and balled my fists, waiting for some sort of response. He was silent. "N-now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go n-"

The next thing I knew I was on the ground. He had punched me in the face. I knew he would, I had no doubt in my mind that it would happen whether he was high or not. I just had to get through this part and then I would leave.

"Get the f**k up." He spat at me, as I felt around where my jaw connected to my skull with two fingers to make sure nothing broke. I stood up, shying away slightly but still standing. "Now tell me, what the f**k you did to your hair."

"I-I was a missing person, dad... And I didn't want to be found, so I, I cut it..."

"Without my f*****g permission? What the f**k has gotten into you?" I keeled over slightly as his fist came in contact with my rib cage, taking the breath out of me. I stood straight again, letting out a slow breath. I knew if I showed weakness he would just keep hitting me until I could 'man up and stop taking it like a f*****g girl', even though I was one.

"Tell me!"

"I- I don't know, I-uh,"

"What the f**k is taking so lo- what the f**k?!" I heard Hal's voice as my dad's fist came in contact with my face again. That one hit me right in the nose. My hands came up as I held my nose in pain, feeling blood dripping out through the cracks between my fingers.

"Who the f**k are you?" My dad spat at Hal, as the younger shoved me out of the way and punched my dad square in the jaw. I don't know if it was the drugs or if Hal was actually that good, but my dad dropped like a fly. He was knocked out.

"Hal! Don't! It's fine!" I yelled at him, and he barely even acknowledged me. I saw him reaching for his waistband, and I jumped forwards without thinking.

"f**k, Frankie!" Hal spat as blood began to run down my arm from the gash in my forearm. "Are you stupid?" He threw the knife down and started pulling his sweater off, then grabbed my arm and pressed the fabric to the wound.

"No, I'm not stupid! You were gonna try to f*****g kill my dad, of course I'm gonna throw myself in between! I'd take this over a dead dad any day!" I defended, too many emotions running through me at once. "You didn't have to jump in. I can take a hit."

"He was hurting you! f*****g hell, Frankie. You should've got out the second he first hit you."

"Yeah... The first time." I mumbled as Hal continued pressing the fabric to my wound. He looked up at me then, surprised.

"So this isn't new? You should've told me that, I wouldn't have f*****g let you come here alone! f*****g hell." He shook his head, then lifted the shirt to look at my arm. It was deep. It had stopped bleeding for the most part, but it definitely needed stitches. He grunted and tied the shirt around my arm to hold it in place, then slipped off his sweater and gave it to me to put on. I gratefully took it, as I was completely shirtless at the moment.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" I asked, using my free hand to pinch the bridge of my nose, which was probably already starting to bruise. I winced in pain, then sighed waiting for a response.

"Because Frankie. You're the only thing I can care about." He said, still looking at me with those concerned eyes. It was nice knowing that he cared about me, but it was really unnecessary.

"I'm fine. As I said, I can take a hi-" he thrust his head forward and kissed me then, most likely because he wanted me to stop talking.

Somehow, I was okay with that.