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You didn't know what to do! Frank was being taken to jail for killing all those people. You believed that Frank was psychic and could see ghosts, but everyone thought he was insane, except you.
"What are you doing? He didn't do anything wrong!" You exclaimed at the sheriff, who was hand cuffing Frank. Frank didn't say anything, he knew the cops would think he was insane if he told them he saw 'The Grim Reaper' kill all those people. He also didn't want you to get involved in his messed up life, more than you already were.
He looked into your eyes, "Y/n, go home, please," he said. The sheriff took Frank into the jail cell and you frustratingly walked out of the police station.
'I need to talk to him. I need to help him get out of there." You thought. You walked back into the police station. The cop at the front desk lifted his head. "Can I help you?" He asked you.
"I need to see Frank Bannister right now please," you said, almost glaring down the police officer in front of you.
Eventually the police officer let you in to see Frank. He opened and then closed the cell door to Frank's jail cell. "Hollar when your done," the cop said, walking away.
Frank was laying down on the jail cell bed and his back was facing you. "Frank get up!" You said. He didn't move or make a sound. He liked having you with him, but right now it just wasn't safe.
"Go away," he said, half hoping you would stay. "Frank. I'm not going anywhere, not until you explain to me what the hell is going on," you said, pleading with him. You then sat on the edge of the make-shift bed.
You had always helped Frank with his 'business' if you could even call it that. The ghosts he saw mainly scared people so Frank could get money. You were interested that he said he could see ghosts. There was one problem though, you were in love with him, but you didn't want to say anything because you knew he wasn't over what happened with his wife and the car accident.
Frank liked that you believed him and could cover for him when he would hand out his business cards in the cemetery.
He turned around to face you and looked at you. Before she died, his wife looked at him in the same loving and caring way you looked at him. He knew you cared, but wasn't quite sure how much, so he didn't say anything about how much he cared about you.
"He's back," was all Frank said. His voice was shaky and you could tell he was scared. You had never seen him scared. A small tear was running down his cheek. You sweetly brushed away the tear with your thumb. When you did this Frank looked at you a little taken aback by your loving action.
"Who's back, Frank?" You asked. Frank got up and you stayed, sitting on the make-shift bed.
"The Grim Reaper, Death. I don't know but he keeps collecting souls and putting numbers on people's foreheads," Frank explained to you.
"How do we stop him?" You asked. Normally if someone said that, they would think the other person was insane, but not you. You wanted to help. Frank sat down next to you, "I don't know," he replied.
Just as he said that the number 37 appeared on your forehead. Frank's eyes went wide. You saw this, "Frank, what's wrong?" You asked, a little freaked out.
"We gotta go," he trailed off. You rolled your eyes, still confused by the situation, "That's exactly why I'm here, would you just tell me why you look so scar-," you said, but you were unable to finish your statement because you felt something squeeze your heart. It was painful very painful. Then the pain was gone.
Frank had moved you to the wall as Frank's two ghost friends ripped away the reaper trying to kill you. "What the hell was that?!" You exclaimed. Then you realized, "I'm next, aren't I?" You asked Frank. All Frank did was nod.
