This fic is a quick 2 chapter fic that I have written. I'll put chapter 2 up tonight or before tomorrow afternoon. I have been writing more on 'Queen Bitch' so that will be uploaded soon too.
bold writing are thoughts. please R&R. twitter: ACCRK
"And you're absolutely sure that she won't detect these?" Frank questioned
"Mate, they're state of the art. You've paid a hefty amount for these. Unless she's Sherlock Holmes… then no"
Frank tutted… "Don't underestimate my fiancée, she's a rare breed. Thanks David, send me the final invoice to my Whitby flat will you, I don't want anything coming through the post here. I'll call you in a bit"
At that statement, David nodded his head in agreement, before he proceeded to leave the flat. Frank stood in the middle of the now empty flat, looking around, double checking that nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He nodded in agreement with himself, a smirk forming across his face, a glow layering across his eyes, as his future plan excited his brain.
Previously that day, Carla had ended her and Frank's relationship at the factory. She did not give him a valid enough reason as to why she couldn't go along with the wedding, and this had infuriated Frank. It had bought his anger to the brim, and he had therefore headed back to the flat in an attempt to clear his head.
It had always played in the back of Frank's paranoid mind that Carla was still in love with Peter, yet he had never found any evidence of an affair, not even any evidence that they had been seeing each other as friends, yet he was convinced that something was going on. He didn't know when, how, where, and it seemed impossible that Carla would find the time, as she was with Frank most of the time.
Frank sat on the chair in the living area, he rested his head in his hand a emitted a deep and meaningful sigh. Since when had he become so paranoid, so obsessed. Was this love? He thought to himself. Surely not? Jealousy? Snap out of this, Frank. Why are you letting a woman get to you like this? Compose yourself. Frank dropped his hands onto his thighs, and pushed himself up from the chair. He got his phone out of his pocket and dialled David's number.
"Frank"
"Are you at my flat?"
"Yes. Walk to your left a bit"
Frank did as David told him.
"Camera one and two working. Now head to the bedroom."
Frank proceeded to the bedroom
"…and so is camera three and four. Everything is in order. It records constantly, so all you have to do when you get to your flat is rewind, play, fastforward, whatever, just like you would use your sky tv"
"Cheers Dave. Just post the spare key back through the letter box will you, I'll be over there later on tonight"
"Will do" David replied, and hung up the phone.
Frank composed himself. If Carla wasn't going to admit that she had been having an affair with Peter, he was going to get evidence. He wasn't going to let her let go of their relationship as well as force him out of the factory. He knew that Carla was expecting him to leave the flat, and if he did just that, she would in no doubt ask Peter to come round. This was his chance to get closure, to get answers. As far as he was concerned, she was a lying, cheating bitch, that needed to be punished.
I'll wait until she gets back, he thought. This wasn't his original plan, but he wanted to ask her about Peter one last time, before things turned dirty. He wanted to give her one last chance to come clean, maybe give her one last chance to salvage the relationship, although deep down he knew that that wasn't possible. Yes, it was decided now, he'd wait for her at the flat, she won't be expecting that. Maybe Peter will be with her when she comes back, maybe I won't need the cameras after all…?