**Writer's note: Again, thank you to those who so kindly wrote reviews…I'm very glad you enjoyed it. I do apologize for having to upload the last few chapters in web page format, hence the tiny type…somehow the Word document I've been using all along is no longer recognized as a Word document when I try to upload it.**
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Certainly not Frank.
At the moment he was huddled in bed, hugging his knees to his chest and staring blankly at the wall opposite him. Certainly part of his behavior was attributable to shock and inexpressible grief; however, the injection of morphia he had given himself shortly after the conclusion of his conversation with his mother was also partially responsible. The inside of his elbow throbbed from the invasion of the needle. He hadn't touched the stuff in months, but his pain had been so intense that he had to find something, anything, to help him deal with it. The injection hadn't deadened the pain, exactly…just muted it enough to allow him enough strength to exist from minute to excruciating minute.
How could he have been so stupid? So completely and utterly fooled? He'd looked into Rocky's eyes time and time again, and had seen the love shining there. He hadn't realized it was apparently the love of money…the money that information about Frank would enable him to command.
Frank shook his head slightly. He knew he'd used countless women for sex, so perhaps there was a kind of karmic justice in the fact that he himself had just been used ruthlessly for money. However, Frank had never, not once, told any of his female sexual partners that he was in love with them. He may not have been overwhelmingly concerned about their feelings, but it was never his intention to hurt or deceive them. Rocky, on the other hand, had told him over and over how much he loved him. How much he needed him. How he would always be there for him. The cruelty of it was beyond understanding.
It was no good. He had to get out of this room. He'd go to the clearing, the spot he'd loved for as long as he could remember.
Unfortunately, once he reached it, he realized the place that had always brought him peace and happiness now brought nothing but memories of his time with Rocky. No matter where he looked, he saw the two of them together talking, laughing, sharing confidences, making love.
Suddenly anger mixed with his pain and grief. Rocky had taken everything from him – his happiness, his confidence, his ability to love and be loved in return. Now he'd even taken the one place Frank thought would enable him to cope with those incalculable losses. The anger spread, hardened, and turned his soul cold. Nobody would ever get so close to him again. He would simply use people the way he'd been used…he'd make them fall in love with him, take their love until he didn't want it anymore, then leave them to cope with the aftermath. Falling in love could destroy him; sex and power, inextricably linked, would be his salvation. However, somewhere in the back of his mind, a small, vagrant voice was whispering. I need him so much. Somehow, someday…I'll make him love me.
Frank felt tears spring to his eyes, spill over, and run down his face. The injection was wearing off. Time to get back to his room for another hit.
He took a final look around, picked up the blanket he'd wrapped around himself, and walked out.
He would never return.