frankie [episodes 1-3]

-9-

Demons are real. That's what's going through my head throughout dinner as mum is chattering on about her day and dad is criticising the spaghetti. Demons are real. They're really real. I saw one.

"And how was your day, darling?" mum turns to me, "How was school?"

"Fine." I push my half-eaten bowl forward across the table, "May I be excused?"

She exhales loudly as I scrape back my chair and head out of the dining room.

"She hates me," her voice follows me. "I don't know what to do, I don't know how to make it better." I stop in the hallway, feeling the dull ache of guilt in my gut. But then it makes me angry. As if I need her making me feel guilty on top of everything else.

"Just leave her be, Margaret," I hear dad say as I make my way up the two flights of stairs to my bedroom.

I slump onto my bed, catching sight of the Daisy Malone file still on my dressing table. I pull out the crumpled piece of paper from my pocket revealing the directions to the tattoo parlour she was last seen.

Demons are real. Did a demon really kill Daisy?

I see that horrible creature imprinted onto the back of my eyelids every time I blink - grey scales, red eyes, animal movements. Its foul acrid stench is burned into my nostrils. It wanted to kill me. It nearly did.

You should have let it. We would have been free. We would all have been free.

My phone buzzes on my bed beside me making me jump. I ignore it. It's not like I have any friends anymore. It vibrates and stops another three times before I finally sigh and pick it up.

"What?"

"Frankie...it's Rebecca."

I groan inwardly.

"How did you get this number?"

She pauses a moment.

"Well...don't be upset...but I saw it on the back of one of the school bathroom stalls. Courtesy of Courtney, I'd imagine."

"Of course..." I say, "What did it say to call for this time?"

"Monster munch."

I feel a sting at the back of my eyes, a tightening in my throat.

"To be honest I think she's getting a bit lazy, I mean what does that even mean?" Rebecca says, "Like what...as in the type of crisps?"

"I don't know, I don't care."

There's a pause.

"Anyway, don't worry, that's not what I'm calling for."

"What do you want then, Rigor?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were OK."

"I'm fine."

Rebecca stays silent – as though she's waiting for something. I fiddle with my bedding, staring at the high ceiling of my room. I don't want to talk to her, I want to be left alone, but at the same time...

"What was that thing?" I finally say. "Was it really a demon?"

"Yeah, a kind of demon."

"Where did it come from?"

She pauses, as though weighing her words.

"Carter thinks from Hell. I think they've always been here –hiding, evolving, killing..."

"Maybe your both right. Maybe we're in Hell."

"Maybe."

Neither of us speaks for a moment.

"Before...in the chapel... you said Daisy was killed by a demon. Why are you so sure?" I think of Courtney and the others – their prank calls, the graffiti on the bathroom stalls, their shrieks of laughter following me down every corridor. "Not all monsters come out at night."

"No," says Rebecca thoughtfully, "But Carter has a contact in the coroner's office who has some dealings in the supernatural. She found non-human DNA on the body parts found in the bin bag."

My stomach lurches at the thought. The grainy image from Daisy's file flashes in the forefront of my mind.

"The demon we saw today, that's what killed her?"

"No, we don't think so...some demons are more human, more evolved than others. That was a lower level type – dangerous, animalistic, but not intelligent. We think Daisy's killer has been collecting body parts for a while – supplying whoever did what they did to you. That takes intelligence," she pauses, "and it's the intelligent ones that are really dangerous."

I stare up at the ceiling, trying to process everything that has happened today.

"Anyway – I'm going to head over to Ink Stains tomorrow - ask some questions about Daisy before my band plays," she interrupts my thoughts, "You should come along. To both."

I exhale heavily.

"Carter was wrong about me. I don't have powers."

"You don't need to have powers to be a hero."

I snort.

"I'm not a hero. I'm a monster. Remember?"

"Well, if you change your mind..." She pauses. "And if you ever need to talk...well... I'm here."

I don't speak. The words I want to say are trapped in my throat. I'm lost. I'm empty. I don't know who I am anymore.

"Thanks, Rigor," I whisper.

But it's too late – she's already hung up the phone.

***

I'm in a tattoo parlour. There's a gun in my bag.

I see a tall man with cat like eyes. He knows something. 

My feet walk me to a mirror. I don't want to look into it but I can't get away. 

My heart jumps.

Daisy's hollow face looks out at me. She's mouthing something.

Met Mark? Meg Marker? Me Mark It?

I don't understand.

I drag myself away from the mirror, away from the man, out of Ink Stains. I don't want this. I don't want any of this. But then I hear a voice, faint and anguished in my mind, and I stop.

Help me it says Help us all.