They were murdered, they were attacked and now they're dead. That's all Frank knows about his parents - gone before he'd even had chance to miss them, and it was fucking with his head.
The police reckoned that moving away, to rural New Jersey with his grandparents would help him cope with the loss, but even Frank knew that they couldn't be more than wrong, because despite the dull sleepy atmosphere of the town, there was something unidentifiable yet impossibly unnerving about the place, and really, perhaps was safer in his parents home than he ever was here.
And there's something physically wrong too - a figure that lurks in the smoke, fog, and shadows - a silhouette the deepest black he'd ever seen, the kind that brought an unsettling feeling to Frank's stomach, and really Frank's wasn't one to be overly twitchy about things like this, but from the moment he first met him, he could never shake the feeling that the figure was always following him.
And perhaps, he was.