Freddie P.O.V

Wednesday 2:00 a.m.

He just sat there.

All night, he did not even lie down. He just sat there staring into his pitch-black surroundings. The only lights came from the window, a thin stream of light flooding in the room.

He did not think. He just sat.

He tried to forget the past, or of what he could remember of it. All he knew was that he would not mess up anymore. This day on, he would be the perfect son. He would obey, lately he had been having some thoughts against his father, and this was ignorant. How could he turn against the one person who has always tried to look after him? He would be loyal. He would help his father on his mission for that are what good sons do.

Freddie got up from the uncomfortable wooden chair he had sat in for hours. He stretched his back and went to his bed. He lay down on his comfortable bed. He sunk in the bed and snuggled in as it cushioned around him. The sheets on his bed were new, pure white, now were stained with bright red blood. Freddie lifted his arm. From this angle in the room the moon light streamed on his hand. A long gash swirled around his hand, throbbing to a steady beat. The song unknown and each note pained him. Blood still glistened on his hand. Freddie let the hand drop to the snow-white sheets, letting it blood splatter on the sheets. It almost created an art of some sort; he did not bother to clean up the nasty cut. His mind was restless. He just sank into the bed. The cut drained him of the tension somehow. It released his pent up energy. He was afraid if he cleaned, it up he would become tense again.

He then started to drift off into sleep. Then it happened it was like a wave crashing down on him. The voices were back again. Freddie clasped his hands on his ears trying to block out the sound.

Of course, this did not work since the voices were in his head. The screams of his father's victims once again came to haunt him. Once again, one women's voice stood out the loudest. Although this time she said something, which she never had before, "Beware the man, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," The words repeated in his brain.

Freddie shrieked in frustration. Freddie then got up and ran to his drawer. In the last drawer was a leather case. He picked it up. The screaming seemed to get louder. Freddie knew what he had to do. Freddie dumped the contents of the leather bag onto his bed. Which were a small handkerchiefs, a silver clauddagh ring, and most important a small knife. The knife's hilt was made of smooth leather. On the leather was an engraved J. Freddie could not remember where he got it. He just remembered when he had first woken up in the hospital he found it clutched in his hand. When he had seen Jeff standing over him with an intrigued look on his face, Freddie just did not trust him. His black eyes looked at him the wrong way. His greased back hair and small round spectacles made Freddie at once distrust him. Therefore, from day one since Freddie had lost his memory he had hidden the knife from Jeff.

Freddie could not more like would not imagine the pain he would be in if Jeff found out Freddie had been keeping something from him. Freddie took the knife and brought it to his bicep. Freddie already started to wince before he had pressed the knife on his skin. Freddie did not want to do it but the voices would not stop if he did not. As Freddie made the small slit in his arm, the voices began to cease. Freddie dropped the knife on the bed and sank to the floor. He clasped his hands on his ears and waited impatiently for the creams to stop. Soon they just became a mere echo.

Freddie got up and dropped on his bed. Freddie for that first time that night let his emotions out. Small little tears leaked out the corner of his eyes.

Why did this have to happen to him? Freddie did not know what kind of person he was before the accident but he knew he was not that person. He did not want to be the person to cope with their life had to well . . . cut. That was not what he was doing. He was not cutting it was just a way to stop the screaming.

The more he repeated that sentence the more he disbelieved himself. He could not admit it to himself. He would not.

Why did this have to be his life? The tears started to come quicker staining his pillow. Then he started to sob. Then he just started to fade away into the darkness. He only hoped that dreams would not intrude on his sleep. Moreover, of course because of amazing luck . . . he had a complete nightmare.

He stood in the old Elmer Street Park. He always laughed at the horrible name of the park. They had only opened it last year to his surprise. Why they would name a park, those children to play on, after a horry movie, he did not know

Freddie could see himself sitting on the undersized swinging seat. Freddie himself was almost floating in the air. He was like the soft breeze. Although he was immobilized, standing still Freddie knew what was to come. He wanted to run away from the memory. He tried to lock this memory in a vault away from his mind but it always seemed to recur.

He saw himself finally move. He stood up from the swing and walked towards a girl. His heart swelled with joy at the sight of her. He knew it was only a dream but it felt so real. Freddie could almost smell her sweet mango scent that always filled the air when she was present. In the dream, her hair shined abnormally bright and as well did her eyes.

"Hello Fred," She tried to scrimmage a smile but it turned out to be more of a grimace.

"Hey," He was over-excited. He saw himself practically jumping up and down.

"Fred I am happy to see you and thank you for coming all the way to Elmer Street Park," Freddie did notice that it was dark outside but only 5 o'clock.

"Rachel I have to tell you something before you come see what's in my house tomorrow," Freddie said hopping he could muster the courage to tell her, "I know I told you what he does . . . but you can't come. Stop I know what you are going to say that it is going to be okay but it is not. What if you get hurt? What if he . . . finds you? What if," Freddie gulped not even wanting to think of it?

"Stop! I came here to give you this," She started to rummage through her knapsack until she pulled out a small sparkling object.

"This is my claddagh ring. I want you to have it," she thrusted it into his hand. He held it up to the streetlight. The silver glistened brightly its heart was a shimmering sapphire. She wore the ring every day.

"My father gave this to me before he died. If the day does not go as planned I want you to know that fathers truly are loving people," She closed his hand around it, "I can not . . ."

"Yes you can," she gave him a reassuring smile; "This means a lot to me you better not lose it."

"See you at school" She then disappeared into the darkness away from the streetlight. Suddenly there was no park just Freddie shocked face starring at the beautiful claddagh under the streetlight. The dream faded away.

Freddie woke with a jolt. How could he have been so stupid to let her see his house? Freddie always thought it was probably the shimmer of the ring that hypnotized him into thinking this was a good idea.

Freddie could not afford to have mistaken like that happen again.

Thank you for reading sorry for being so short and boring holidays make me procrasanate.

This is just about his thoughts about his life basically and how he still feelis guilty about Rachel.

I know he seems hot and cold about his father but hes confused.

He sort of thinks he's the good guy then again resents him for mistreating Freddie.

Thank you! Review