Stockholm Syndrome

Chapter Fifteen

"f**k, you're dating old men too? f*****g bullshit. Something has gotten into you, Frankie. Oh, it was probably emo over here's d**k, right? Get the f**k over here." I pulled away from Hal and looked over to see my dad leaned up, propped on his elbows as he sat on the floor, conscious now. s**t. If he was pissed at me before, I don't know what he'd think now...

"No, she will not get the f**k over there." Hal spat, standing up and walking towards him slowly. "Punch me if you wanna do anything productive. She didn't run away, I took her. And no, she's not into old men. I'm the only f**k she can get right now. Let alone, I'm not f*****g old. So no, she will not get over here so you can hit her. Hit me." He was seething. He was standing over my dad now, fists clenched.

"Get the f**k out of my house and let me deal with her. If she's stupid enough to go back to live with you she needs to learn a fuckin' lesson."

"No. I told her to come back to live with me, by the way. She wanted to stay with you. She made me drive her here so she could make sure you were okay and you just wanna f*****g hurt her? I don't think so. She's not just your f*****g punching bag. I'm not letting her stay here with a piece of s**t like you."

"I'm calling the police. Nobody f*****g takes my daughter away from me. Frankie, get me my phone now." He spat at me, and I looked at the coffee table, where his phone was.

"Francesca. Nn-Now." He demanded, but he trailed off in kind of a slow voice, his eyes going all weird, rolling back. Panic and confusion started to set in, he was fine before, and now he looked like he was dying? Suddenly, he dropped after making a few gagging noises, like he was about to vomit. He was already on the floor, he just- went limp.

"What the f**k?" I exclaimed, running to his side. I pressed two fingers to his neck, getting no pulse. "What the f**k did you do?!"

"Don't look at me," Hal defended, stepping away from him.

"What the f**k?!" I repeated, looking around. My eyes landed on the coffee table. I don't know how I missed it. Hal turned and followed my gaze.

"Oh.." He spoke. I stood up and walked to the coffee table, counting five syringes. Five needles. He f*****g overdosed and it wasn't an accident.

"Dammit! f**k!" I spoke sharply, turning around and gripping my hair. "No!" I went to my dad's side again and just looked at him. He was f*****g dead.

"Frankie,"

"No, Hal. Leave me be."

"No, look-" I turned around and he was holding a piece of folded paper. "It was on the table..."

I reached up, taking the paper from him. I knew what it was. I didn't open it because I knew what it was.

"We should get out of here..." Hal said. "Let's put him on the couch- leave the note... We were never here, okay?"

"I can't just leave him here! Are you crazy?"

"Frankie..."

"You just want an excuse to get me out of going to the police! Not happening, Hal. I'm going. And we're not leaving him."

"Frankie, calm down. Think about it. I'll take you to the police as soon as we leave, but we can't be involved in this..."

I thought for a moment, my heart and mind racing. I didn't know what to do. "I- i" I stuttered, looking from my dad to the paper in my hands, and then to my dad again. "f**k,"

"Just, come here.." Hal's hands snaked around me, under my arms. He lifted me to my feet and I just kept staring down at my dad. "How long do you think it'll take for the police to get to him?"

"Uh... He uh.." I couldn't think properly. I think I was just in shock. "I, he- he has lots of friends, it shouldn't be long..."

"Okay, so... Here's the plan. We put him on the couch, get out, and go home. We'll wait 'til he's on the news and then I'll take you in. Okay? Just say you ran away, and that you already have a place to stay, with me."

"Okay.." I agreed to Hal's plan. The fact that my dad was dead was slowly settling in, and I knew we had to start moving right away. The shock was noticeably fading away.

"By the way, for your information, you're not just the only f**k I can get. You didn't have to lie for me." I told him, tearing my eyes away from my dad's still body and looking at Hal. He just blinked slowly and nodded.

"I know." He looked around. "Well... We should probably get going."

"Yeah..." I agreed half-heartedly. Hal placed my dad on the couch, put the note in his pocket, and then looked at me sadly.

"You okay?"

"I'm not helpless, you don't have to worry about me. I've gotten pretty used to death."

"If it helps, I think he deserved-"

"Nobody deserves to die, Hal. No matter what. That's my dad you're talking about. He's all I ever had. So shut the f**k up and let's go." And with that, I walked to the door and left. Hal followed shortly after.

We were in the car in no time, on our way back to Belleville. I sighed and looked out the window, feeling the uncomfortableness of my own shirt tied around my arm. "Oh yeah, what are we gonna do about my arm?"

"I know some things, sometimes people fight back on jobs and going to the hospital covered in someone else's blood isn't the best thing to do. I've got needles and thread and stuff. Like, medical grade." He told me, and I nodded. At least there was something I could do. I didn't want a giant hole in my arm for much longer.

I was pretty quiet for most of the way back to Belleville. I wasn't really thinking about my dad at all, my mind was just blank and I had nothing to say. I guess Hal took that as me being sad.

"Do you wanna talk?" Hal asked me. I looked over at him.

"No, I'm fine."

"Well, I want to talk." I looked at him in surprise, trying to read his expression. He looked kind of sad and unsure.

"Go ahead."

He let out a long breath. Talking wasn't really his thing. "I'm afraid." He admitted. "And don't take that lightly because I'm Hal Grimwald and I don't get scared." I turned to look at him again, waiting for him to elaborate. He swallowed nervously, eyes forward.

"Do you know what Stockholm syndrome is?" I stayed silent. I shook my head slightly to give him some sort of response, I've heard of it but I didn't really know what it was. "It's a syndrome where you fall in love with your captor. It's not real love."

"And?"

"If you go to the police... You'll be able to meet people and you'll-" he paused for a moment, recollecting himself. "You'll realize you're only with me because I'm the only person you can be with... And I don't want that to happen."

"And that's why you didn't want me to turn myself in..." I concluded, looking down at my lap again. "I mean, I don't- I don't think I have it, you said it's when you fall in love with your captor. One, I'm not in love with you. Two, you're barely my captor. I don't have it." I assured him, not even sure of myself as the words came out of my mouth.

"Oh," was all he said.

"I didn't mean that... I do really like you, Hal. I'm just not, y'know, in love with you." I clarified.

He seemed kinda mad. Like I had somehow offended him in saying I didn't love him. What can I say though? I'm 18. I barely know anything about Hal. I've known him for how long? I mean yeah he's f*****g attractive and I wanna kiss his face all the time and he makes me nervous when he looks at me with those pretty eyes but- I don't love him. I don't even know what that's supposed to feel like so I'll truly never know. But I'm 99.9% sure I don't love him. And I don't know why he got so offended when I said that.

"No, I know. I'm not in love with you either." He said bluntly.

"Would you?" I asked, still turned to face him, left arm throbbing slightly.

"Would I what?"

"Would you ever wanna fall in love with me?"

"I don't know, what the f**k kind of question is that?"

"I know you don't do mushy. But- if I turn myself in and meet people and end up still liking you as much as I do, would you wanna, I don't know. Go on a date?"

"You're asking me on a date." He spoke as if he couldn't believe I had just said that. "You, an eighteen-year-old kid, is asking a greasy 24-year-old serial killer on a date. That sounds a little messed up."

"Then you ask me."

"A greasy 24-year-old serial killer asking a teenager on a date? Even worse." He chuckled slightly, and I couldn't tell if he was actually just joking around or if he was avoiding the question.

"Yes or no."

He stopped for a minute, his smile still reminiscent of his chuckling. He turned to look at me and gave a small nod. "Yeah. Fine. I'll go on a date with you." I smiled as well.

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

I didn't even notice we were in Belleville until we pulled up in front of Hal's house. "f**k, today was rough. It's already seven pm." Hal stated before stepping out of his car, and I followed. We walked into the house, and I sat on the couch.

"And it's not over yet, don't forget about my arm." I reminded him.

"Oh yeah," he said as he went into the bathroom. I unzipped the big sweater and pulled it off, then untied the shirt from my arm. There was a lot of blood soaked into the shirt and that probably explained why I was so lightheaded and speaking without thinking.

Hal returned in no time, a small red kit in his hand. He came and sat beside me, opening the kit and looking at my arm.

"There's like a bunch of fibres from the shirt in it, I'm gonna clean it first." He spoke and I nodded. There were some wipes in his kit, and he just used those. I winced as the disinfectant stung my wound, but it wasn't something I couldn't handle.

"Okay..." He put the bloody white square onto the couch, then went back into the kit and pulled out a suture needle, and some plastic looking thread. He was shaking.

"Uh... If you're gonna shake like that maybe we should wait.." I told him, I didn't want weird f****d up stitches.

"Oh, uh, sorry... I can usually do this on myself with a lot of mental preparation but I've never done it on someone else and I uh, don't do well with needles." He admitted, and. I furrowed my eyebrows.

"What do you mean, 'don't do well'? Like you're bad at it or something?"

"No, uh- they kinda, I don't know. They make me queasy."

"Are you kidding me? You f*****g kill people for a living and you don't even use guns, you use knives which are basically giant flat needles. Don't tell me that these tiny little things make you queasy."

"You think this is a tiny little thing?" He threatened, holding up the large, curved suture.

"Well no, but still. Just pretend I'm a pillow and you're sewing me back together." I encouraged him. "I can't do it myself and we shouldn't just ignore it."

"Fine." He agreed and pulled out the thread. "I'll do it."

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

For a serial killer with no experience in medicine, these stitches looked pretty good. "How did you know how to do that?"

"Many many YouTube tutorials." He chuckled, finishing cleaning the needle and then placing it back into the kit, then closed it.

"Can I put a shirt on now?"

"No,"

"Why not?" I asked as he stood up, a playful smirk on his face.

"Medical reasons." He chuckled before walking back to the bathroom to put the kit away. He returned shortly, and I was still watching him, slightly entertained.

"And what are those medical reasons, Dr Grimwald?" I raised an eyebrow at him, and he sat back down on the couch beside me.

"Uh, to keep the doctor entertained." He smiled, and I shook my head and laughed.

"What a player." I smiled, looking at him. I leaned forward to kiss him, the smile still on my face as he began kissing me back. I threw my arms up around his shoulders and scooched closer to him, opening my mouth slightly, to which Hal pulled away. I opened my eyes to see he had an amused smile on his face.

"The patient needs to rest," Hal said, and I pouted. My arms were still around his shoulders and I was basically in his lap.

"The patient should have a say in this." I reasoned.

"The doctor knows best. C'mon." He smiled again, placing a kiss on my lips before I scooted off his lap and stood disappointedly, stumbling slightly. "See, you lost some blood. Go to bed."

"You're not coming with me?" I pouted again.

"You're needy when you're faint." He observed. "I gotta watch the news, don't wanna miss anything."

"Fair enough... Don't stay here all night." I told him, and he nodded. I flashed him one last smile before making my way into his bedroom. I kicked off my jeans and laid down in the bed, pulling the covers over me and nuzzling in. It may have only been 8pm, but I fell asleep instantly and the loss of blood may or may not have been the cause of that.