Chapter Five

Malt Shoppe
"I love it here." Gabriella took a long sip of her chocolate (fat free) milk shake. He imagined she'd stick her finger down her throat and release it all out in the bathroom stall toilet, as Freddy remembered her mentioning her eating disorder. Something he found silly and irrelevant when in his eyes, females looked so well without starving themselves. Yet he almost found himself relatable to Gabriella, both with some sort of mental suffering.

Nervously, his eyes darting around, he hoped upon hopes none of those troublesome girls he went to school with would pay a visit to the Shoppe. With his bad luck, they'd probably drag Gabriella away or convince her to leave on her own free will. Freddy had never been to the Malt Shoppe, much less anywherewith a girl.

"Me too." Freddy lied, stirring his own vanilla milkshake round and round with a straw.

"Aren't you gonna drink that?"

He stopped the stirring. They'd had their drinks and been making small talk for ten minutes and he still hadn't taken a drink. He forced the thick vanilla substance down his throat.

"Good stuff, huh?" Her affectionate smile lit up her face. Freddy's hormones were racing.

"Yeh." He managed to speak in a semi-normal pitch.

"Just as I thought, it's real fun being here with you." She gushed, taking his free hand and clasping it in her own. As she said this, a sappy love ballad started playing from the jukebox in the corner.

"I've hardly said a word." Freddy mused.

"Yeah you have, silly." She playfully swatted at his shoulder with her free hand.

"Oh..." Freddy could feel his hand in her clutches beginning to sweat. Don't screw this up.

He felt almost guilty that Gabriella was making all the moves and he, the male was sat here, powerless to do much at all, watching it happen. Times were chauvinistic and masculinity superior. What was he expected to do? Had he missed a dating 101 class all attended but he? Grab her and press his lips to hers? He felt that most appropriate in his current situation, but didn't dare.

Her hand released from his. "Freddy, what's your brother like- Jake? Is he nice?"

Freddy felt emotions. Emotions that he'd felt before, but now stronger than ever. Stronger than those he'd felt at the abuse of any foster parent or sister at the orphanage he'd spent a period of his life at.

Hurt.

Pain.

Disgust.

Humiliation and overwhelming sadness.

Gabriella didn't like him. She wanted to score a date with his foster brother, Jake. Assuming that Freddy was her closest inner connections. Gabriella was not like Freddy. She was not like anything he'd ever imagined her being. Evidently, she had used him, toyed with his feelings.

Then all those distressed emotions evaporated and were replaced with hatred and livid, irrational rage that enveloped him completely-strangled him. He had been burned too many times in the past. He wasn't going to let Gabriella live it through and he wasn't going to play it casual, the bitch.

His hand gripped hard on the milkshake glass. His hold tightened and the bursting sound of shattering glass screamed. So loud, so angry.

Gabriella screamed as shards scattered over the table.

A waiter with terrible cystic acne jogged over to see what the commotion was about. Freddy had everyone's attention.

"Excuse me mister, are you hurt?" The waiter asked, his hand resting on Freddy's shoulder. Like Gabriella had.

Freddy released the glass shavings left in his palm. Blood was leaking from his skin in tiny seeps. Cuts that would bleed all over the table.

He brushed the waiter off with his uninjured hand, stood up straight bolted- his first date gone horribly wrong.

As he was walking past a stunned Gabriella, his hand smeared over the shoulder of her pale pink blouse. Intentional, or done in the heat of the moment? He couldn't tell.

She screamed as Freddy left the now silent restaurant, at the vivid red residue streaking down her shirt.

Now what? He held his hand rigid as he walked down the street, amongst the sounds of chirping birds and under the bright sunlight- the peachy keen atmosphere in the wholesome picture-perfect town of Springwood. Everyone happy, everyone laughing, everyone in love. Except Freddy. Who knew someone of the opposite sex could have such a big effect on your emotions and hormones?

Harold's Residence
Going home wasn't any indication of a difference, nor was it an escape route. Harold had the television on full volume and Jake was entertaining a scantily clad girl. She laughed nervously as the muscular athlete poured her a glass of juice.

Rolling his eyes, Freddy made a beeline for the kitchen sink- but not before Jake looped his hand around Freddy's wrist.

"What happened to you, kid?" His eyes darkened for a second with what? Concern? But then a cruel smile twisted onto his features. "Get beat up by Gabe?"

Freddy shot an angry glance his way and Jake let go. Tired of Jake's callous treatment and not wanting another arm twist.

Freddy rinsed the blood remains off his hand and watched it dispense down the drain. Polluting the clear water with its taint. He loved the sight. The sight of blood-an angry red- the reminder of pain and how it affected the human conscious. He watched with fascination as a fresh trail of blood oozed up from the small incisions, replacing the blood he had just rinsed off. Probably best to just leave it until it subsided. Ha, unless it never stopped and drained him of the red substance.