Frankie's eyes flashed open in shock. The loud noise that penetrated the silent bedroom echoed further into his consciousness, sprawling over in his mind. He stumbled out of bed, possible outcomes flashing before his eyes. Could it be a burglar? No, that wasn't possible, they didn't have anything worth stealing. Gunshots? It seemed to make sense, but deals, nor fights of any kind, go down when it's four in the morning. He heard yelling from that familiar voice, that voice that always let him know when to hide. It was his dad, practically falling over from drunkenness, shouting obscene words into the air like it was somebody to fight. Frankie shrunk back into his covers, determined to get some rest before school started. He quietly turned onto his side, careful not to let his dad know he was awake. Soon, however, his father barged into the room, the fumes of the alcohol pervading the room like fire on dry paper. He looked around the room, as if some mysterious ghost calling him. Then he looked at Frankie's still body, slowly breathing in and out... in and out...
After a good ten minutes, he left the room, angered by the fact that Frankie hadn't been awake for another playtime. And he'd even brought home a glass bottle, too! As the door slammed behind him, Frankie let out a heavy sigh of relief. He'd escaped another routine beating from his dad. Tossing and turning did little to help wear off the adrenaline from that incident, and soon he decided to just give up and wait for dawn to approach.
The milky light of the morning sun began to show through his cracked window, signaling his father's turn for sleep. He slowly got up and began looking through his clothes for something to wear. Five minutes passed... ten... twenty, yet he wasn't able to find a single article of clothing. The result was a raggedy T-shirt with tattered sweatpants. He walks out of his room, tiptoeing away from his mother's, and goes straight to the kitchen. He looks through the cupboards, but only finds half a piece of a stale bagel in the dead center of the shelf. Everything else was bare. At least it was this much, not like last week....
The walk from his house to the bus stop was a mile away, but he looked at the bright side to it. Not only because it gave him time to think about things, like girls that he'll never get, or goals he'll never achieve, but he looked at the bright side to this because... well... it was the only thing he felt optimistic about. The bus arrived right on time, its wheels screeching to a halt, and the rusty door shakily opening to show the mean-looking driver.
“Get in,” was all the driver said, although Frankie didn't need to be told twice. He stepped up the small stairs and was greeted by the familiar faces of his peers. One pair of eyes that was particular was the pair belonging to Cody Creen. Not so much as the school's “bully” but close enough. His favorite friend? Yes, Frankie. Any day, any time, he was there; ready to hurt Frankie whether emotionally, mentally, or physically. He took a seat in front, as the bus slowly growled to life.
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School always went the same. He'd take the bus to school, get beating up by Creen, miss all of his assignments, take the bus home, get beating up by Creen, have a skimpy dinner, get beating by his dad, and go to bed. They didn't have proper plumbing in the bathrooms, so not only did he have to use the restroom at school, he never had the chance to shower. The same happened today, as it normally does, with him going to bed bruised, and cut. The only difference was his mom didn't give him any dinner, which wasn't new to him. Often, they'd eat the food, and leave little to nothing for Frankie, so this was little than a minor set back. However, Frankie did have something to look forward to, for right around the corner was his birthday, and his parents always gave him whatever he wanted for his birthday. Well... not entirely everything... the one thing he wanted most of all was just their love.
The night threw a shroud of darkness around his room, illuminating his miniscule night-light. His father never did approve of him owning such a childish object, but Frankie managed to sweep this one under the radar, giving him a friendly smile to stare at as he slowly drifted from consciousness. He despised that smile. The way those pearly white teeth flashed brighter than the sun. The look on its face as if nothing could ever go wrong. But things do go wrong, and Frankie was the proof. It made him feel lonelier than ever, when he laid his eyes on it. It gave him a feeling of hopelessness, conveying one single thought, You will never be this happy! Yet he let it sit there, staring at it with scorn, for he truly was afraid of the dark. Frankie could never admit it to anyone but himself, for the consequences for saying such things could mean another beating, but he was afraid of most things. Afraid of the dark. Afraid of losing the battle. Afraid of his own parents.
Afraid of everything....
The night dragged on, without any sign of sleep. He was wide-awake, anticipating the sun's appearance to mark his favorite day of the year. It wasn't like he was narcissistic or any of that, just the opposite in fact, he thought of himself ranking somewhere between dog shit, and vomit, when it came to how valuable he was. So it wasn't like he couldn't wait to start jumping around screaming, “Look it's my birthday! It's my birthday!” Because in reality, it was the only day his parents treated him.
Treated.... treated him like their son.
He couldn't stand it any longer, he knew his dad was out partying somewhere, using up the welfare check in the process, so he quietly slipped out of the bedroom, and walked onto the balcony. He liked the balcony the most about the small ran-down apartment. It was where he found the fire ladder leading to the Roof. The Roof... what a great place to spend time anywhere. Whether it was to flee from his mother's demands as a house caretaker, or simply to do homework, he enjoyed every second of being up there. He grabbed a hold of the ladder, but stopped. A thought came to mind, and he decided to try his luck and go out of town, where the wilderness was. Frankie walked back inside his home, to find it was merely midnight. The Twilight Hours, as he remembered his grandfather calling it. With a determined, face he walked back out into the night, and scaled downwards towards the streets. It's not like anybody would notice, no one ever drives through this street at night, much too dangerous. He carefully dropped down from the end of the ladder and found his way out of the alleyway. He looked back, and saw two large teenagers twice his size staring daggers at him. His pace quickened, but it was useless.
“Yo punk!” said one of the males. “Ay! I'm talking to ya!”
Slowly Frankie turned, afraid of what might be in store for him.
“What'choo got business being here fo'? He questioned.
“Sorry, I'm not trying to intrude in anything, I was just―”
“Bullshit! I said, what'choo doin' here!” The kid pulled out a wicked looking blade, his brow creased, position readied almost as if...
Frankie's eyes widened, and he bolted from the two kids, making a quick right and sprinting. He wasn't sure how or why, but something was telling him to push through to the forest. The males didn't hesitate; they sped full on, and were easily on his tail in a matter of seconds. Frankie dashed over two garbage cans lying on the sidewalk, checking behind him to confirm that they were still on the chase. He saw the borderline of the forest, and braced for the impact of the branches. His judgment proved correct as the searing pain of the blackberry bushes gnaw and dig into his sweatpants, and further into his flesh. He see's a large opening of blue, and registers it as a pond. He checks his back again to find that his attackers were far behind. Long enough to hide. He does a double take from the pond to a small boulder, and that's when he gets an idea. Frankie picks up the boulder and chucks it into the pond, creating a loud splashing noise to echo into the woods, then quickly takes off his clothes and tosses them around the ground. Once that is done, he dives into a bush and waits.
His attackers quickly ran to a stop. “He must'a jumped in the pool!” One of them said. “I bet he's willin' to hold his breath 'till he can't no more!” They both gave each other cavity filled smiles, and sat down to wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. After what seemed a year they decided to leave early, since they believed Frankie had drowned while hiding, and walked away fist bumping and talking about gloating to the other members of some gang. As their voices grew quieter and quieter, Frankie figured they were long gone at that point. He gets up from his hiding place and puts his clothes back on. He silently thanks the lord for that blessed boulder being there, since he might have been killed without it. As he begins his walk back, he stops for a second and peers toward the pond. The nightlights of the city showed a soft glow to it, making look very inviting. The atmosphere around the pond itself gave him a very strange feeling. Not one he was used to in his daily life. It's such an odd feeling he takes a few paces back, not really sure what to do about it. As he recalls its name, it becomes clear to him. That feeling is happiness. Happiness was something he never got, the only happy thought he ever could remember is on his birthday when his mother told him she loved him. But that didn't matter right now, what mattered was that he felt much different than before he stumbled across this water. He comes to the conclusion that this pond must be... he didn't know... special? Magical? Magical... yes that was the only way he could put it. And as he gazes upon the casting glow of the water's surface, it seems like the best thing he can call it right now. He turns and starts his walk back to his apartment, taking in the whole way, from the pine needle scent to the blanket like darkness that surrounds him. As he steps into his apartment, the results of his running around like that has caused him to feel fatigue setting in, and heads straight to bed. With the warm blankets covering him up for a warm night of sleep, he nods off. The last thing he remembers before his dreams take him in is the magnificent golden-blue light that reflected from the surface waters.
As his dreams play behind his eyes, Frankie can just barely feel the corners of his mouth rise...