The World is Ugly (Frerard)

14: The Bread of Glory

I wish, I wish you were here
We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl
Year after year

Frank's POV

I stick my ear to the door. From what I hear, the room outside is empty. For now.

I sigh. To be honest, I feel a little grateful. Although they haven't been exactly kind to me, at least they haven't killed me yet, and I have been freed of the gag, so I've got that going for me.

Besides, one of the dudes shows up regularly to give me a sip of water. It's usually Good Guy or the Turtle, and I don't really hate those two.

What the fuck am I saying? Did I just admit I don't hate my goddamn kidnappers? Jeez what's wrong with me?

I shake my head. This must be a type of Stockholm syndrome or something.

The good part of it all, is since nobody stays inside watching me or anything, I have a lot of time to think.

I've decided to stay in here a little longer. I have an advantage right now, and that's having an army knife they have no clue about, but it would be idiotic of me to just run away hoping that a hello kitty knife will protect me against guns. Because it won't. I'm not quite that stupid.

So I've thought about it over and over again and I've come up with a single, not so reckless kind of plan. I mean, it's still reckless nevertheless but at least it isn't a sure suicidal mission.

I've decided to stay and do nothing for a short period of time, about two weeks or less while I listen closely to their words, learn their routines and maybe even attempt to gain some trust from them. At least from Good Guy and Turtle, since earning their friendship doesn't seem quite as impossible as Mike's or Jaime's.

So I'll stay in a while longer, try to do a mental map of the place and then find a good time and way to escape. It's not much of a plan, but it's all I have.

Or I could do nothing and wait for my mom to pay the ransom...

I laugh at that. That ain't going to happen, and I know it. They just have to keep believing that someday she will answer, sober and willing to spend her alcohol money on saving her son, which is, I must admit, more impossible than me ever being taller than someone. Ha.

So I lie down as I've been doing all the time I've been here, since it's pretty much the only thing I can do while tied up in the dark. Besides creating sucky escape plans, that is.

Every few seconds I hear scratching noises from a far corner in the room, and I'm almost positive that there's a family of rats residing beside me. Well isn't that great? At least I've got company, though...

I snort. I love how it's my natural talent to even think sarcastically. It's such a useful talent, I think sarcastically. And yes, I'm fun at parties. Not that I've ever been invited to one besides mine though...

I turn to my side, resting my cheek on the small area of the ground that I've remotely managed to clean from dust. I should get some sleep. After all, Mike said they'd come back tomorrow (or perhaps today, without any light I can't tell the time), and right now I'm in no shape or mood to face them again.

Kidnaps are such a funny thing, I think. They're funny because they strip you off your freedom and your most basic human rights, but it's funny because those are just imaginary social constructs, however it feels so real when they take them from you.

I laugh a little. It's not even funny, I admit, but I'm just too sleepy to think properly, and it's still surreal that I've been kidnapped.

Every time I close my eyes, I feel like when I open them I'll wake up in the middle of a class or something and everything will be alright, and I'm having trouble convincing myself that it may not.