Okay, I suppose that I should post this chapter today. I'm getting an average of 7-8 reviews a chapter, which is awesome! If you're reading this and you haven't reviewed for chapter six, please do so. It would mean a lot to me! Oh, and please review for this one too. Enjoy your early present, lol!
Midst Ride
Michael seemed to be thinking as his finger hesitated on the trigger. "Get him out of the trunk," he said finally as he walked towards the house. "Follow me."
Frank helped Joe out, then followed him, well aware that Michael was only happy because he knew what (or who, rather) he could use to control Frank. Michael had often mentioned to Celestine that Frank was uncontrollable, rebellious boy, and he was sorry they'd ever adopted him.
Celestine replied that they had been lucky to get any baby at all, and Michael could hate Frank all he wanted, but she was going to choose to love him.
"I'm your mother, Frank," she'd said one day. "Don't you ever let anyone tell you any different! I don't care if your birth mother comes and finds you; she's not your mother! Did she raise you? No. I am your mother."
"Sit, Joe." Michael pointed to a cot and another bed.
Frank was inwardly panicking, but he tried not to show it; this was the house where Celestine had started drugs. Where Michael became a hotshot drug dealer. This was the house in his dreams that flooded him with nightmares.
"Snap out of it," Michael ordered Frank, glaring at him. Frank swallowed his nervousness. He sighed and looked at Joe, who was terrified. "Do your parents care about you, Joseph?"
Joe just sat there. He looked terrified. He didn't say a word. Frank could relate, but he knew that Michael hated it when someone didn't say anything, so he mouthed, "Say something, Joe."
"Y-y-yes," Joe stuttered. Giving himself a second to calm down, he said, "Y-yes, sir."
"Good. 'Cause if not, then, well…" Michael shrugged, glancing at Frank. "You might become a rebel like him. I'm going out. Frank, try and escape and I'll kill you both, you understand? Take Joe to your room."
Joe followed Frank to Frank's bedroom, which was a stripped bed mattress on a bed. A bare light bulb hung from the ceiling.
"Welcome to my life," Frank said. He heard a click as Michael shut the door and locked it behind them before going out.
Joe started to say something, then stopped. What could he even say? Frank had suffered so much more then he ever had, he had so much. He remembered the various times he'd complained about his father grounding him. He could already tell his home life was nothing compared to Frank's.
Frank was already digging in the corner for something, and Joe watched with interest. "What are you doing?" Joe asked, curious.
"I'll tell you as soon as he leaves," Frank replied. Slowly, he pulled out a knife and a piece of rope.
"What are you doing?" Joe asked, glancing warily at the knife.
"Relax, I'm not going to stab you," Frank retorted, noticing Joe's glance at the knife. "And before you tell me I don't know what I'm doing because I do. I've done it before," he added at Joe's glance. "Well, almost," he added, thinking it over.
After what seemed like hours of agonizing silence, they finally heard Michael's pickup pull away. "Finally," Frank muttered, grabbing the knife. "The last time I was in here, I used these to get to try to out... Police got here first, though."
Joe was curious to know the story behind that, but he sensed that Frank didn't want to talk about it. Frank was one of those types of people who couldn't be pushed into talking.
"Was locked in here for almost two days… I back talked to Dad, told him it was his fault my mom used drugs," Frank said. Joe realized that was the first time he'd ever referred to Celestine as his mom. "On the second day, I was tired of just waiting around, so I decided to get my but off the ground. I had a knife, but wasn't really sure I could get out of the door without getting caught, so I waited. When I heard them pull away, I got out my knife. I don't know why… I was just really upset, and actually, I was really worried they'd leave me there. I knew Mom wouldn't, but Dad… I wasn't so sure," he said. "Mom was so hooked on drugs then that she followed Dad's way and will only because he gave them to her for no cost."
Yeah, Joe could totally see Michael locking Frank in the dingy bedroom and not coming back – no wonder why Frank hated his dad so much, especially since it seemed like Michael was the one who got Frank's mom – Celestine? – hooked on drugs.
As Frank continued to cut through the door, he continued slowly. "I waited for awhile, but they didn't come back. I was a big fan of crime shows—you know, where the dude gets busted. I'd watch anything that involves drugs, especially if the dude was caught. One of them had a dude who was able to escape from his bedroom by doing this."
See, TV is useful, Mom, Joe thought, smiling at Frank, silently encouraging him to go on with his story.
"I started sawing at the door. I really worked hard the second day when Dad didn't come back. I was worried he and Mom had left me there for good. Knowing Dad, I wasn't surprised… Mom didn't surprise me that much either, to be honest, because I knew she was pretty much into his drug supply all the time. So I was just sawing at the door. Me, and my starving body, sawing. The third day came and I was starting to panic. I knew people could die in three days from dehydration, so I worked really hard. Busted my tail end, cut my finger several times. You can still see the scars."
Frank paused for a few minutes, and the only thing that filled the room was the constant gnawing of Frank's knife. "Some cops rescued me the next day, they'd gotten some tip, I guess. I was put in foster care pretty soon after that. Mom kept writing, saying she'd get off drugs, that she'd get off drugs." Frank glanced at Joe, trying to see if the younger boy was actually listening.
"Once, after I found a family that might like me, might possibly keep me… She came back. Tested negative for drugs. She was allowed to keep me. I thought it was a dream come true – I hated foster care. I guess you know the story, though. It wasn't a dream come true after all."
Suddenly, Joe heard a small noise, and he glanced up. Frank smiled widely, and the door swung open. "Come on," he told Joe, "we really need to get out of here before he gets back. I'm not going to let you get hurt."
