chapter six

this got deleted somehow, reposted

ma-

I woke up to Kacia shaking me. I yawned and pushed her away, it was too early for this and I got too little sleep last night. I rolled onto my back, “What?”

“Wanna tell me why some random guy is sleeping on our couch?” Her tone was sarcastic and pushy.

“He’s homeless.” I muttered groggily. I was too tired to realize how dumb of an answer this was.

“Okay, why’s a random homeless guy sleeping on our sofa?” It was stupid for her to say, because she brought home random guys from bars all the time and would sleep around with pretty much a different guy each week. Yet, she freaks out when I bring one person home.

“He was hurt, I found him and took him home.” I rubbed my eyes, sitting up.

“He’s homeless, not a puppy. Can’t just bring home random injured drifters. What if he’s some kind of psycho, or thief, or some s**t.”

“He’s not.”

She snorted, “Yeah, I’m sure you know him well enough to guess.”

I was attempted to bring up the guys she brought home and screwed that she barely knew or just met that night, but I was too tired.

I walked out of my bedroom towards the kitchen and got my morning coffee brewing. I walked back into the living room and saw Frey was still fast asleep on the sofa. I debated waking him up, and didn’t really didn’t want to. But Kacia made that choice for me when she slammed the door loudly behind her, and I am pretty sure she did it on purpose.

He snapped awake and sat up, reaching for a pocket knife and looking around with crazy wide eyes.

“Hey, sorry.” I said quickly, holding my hands up in a passive motion.

He stared at me, eyes narrowed, “Where am I?”

“What’s with that look? I didn’t kidnap you or anything.” I laughed, “You’re at my apartment, I brought you home last night, you were hurt. Remember?”

He slowly relaxed and nodded, “Yeah… I remember now.”

I chuckled nervously, “Yeah, so you can put away the knife now.” Must have been instinct, I thought, being homeless one really has to watch their back while they’re sleeping.

He nodded again, closed the blade and put it in his pocket. “Who was the blond girl?” He asked, nodding toward the kitchen.

“My roommate, Kacia.” I told him, “Knew her since High School, lived with her for the last two years.”

He sat up and pulled up his pant leg to look at the bandage, he was about to take it off before I stopped him.

“Just let it heal. Does it hurt?”

He shrugged, “Not as bad as you’d think.”

“When did that happen? How?”

“I got shot. About a week ago.”

“And you never got medical attention for it?”

“Didn’t think I needed it.” He said casually.

I frowned. Either he was stupid, or just didn’t give a damn about his well being. I know he probably had no insurance, but a hospital wouldn’t have turned him away. It was like he had a death wish.

“I’ll be fine, I think I can walk. Just give me a bit and I’ll leave.”

I sighed, rubbing my eyes. “Frey, you don’t have to leave first thing in the morning. Let yourself rest. I’ll get you something to eat. I don’t mind you being here. You aren’t a bother.”

“Your friend sure as hell sound like she don’t want me here.”

I understood Kacia’s point, even if she was being a hypocrite. I never brought home men, or even women. I barely even let people know where I lived, much less invited a stranger to stay the night. It was unlike me, completely out of character. But, I couldn’t just leave him there… I knew he wouldn’t go to a hospital and he needed help… And, something about him… Just made me feel comfortable in a strange way.

“Don’t worry about her.” I told him, “What do you want to eat? I have cereal, bagels, oatmeal?”

“Don’t care, whatever you can spare.”

“Okay… Uh, Oatmeal okay?” It’s high fiber and healthy, he looks like he could use a good meal. When he nods, I start heading to the kitchen. “Do you want coffee?”

“Sure…” I heard him say from the other room.

Kacia was sitting at the table, watching me as I prepared two bowls and two cups of coffee. “We opening a bed and breakfast now?” She said with a sneer.

“Kacia, he’s hungry… He can’t afford food.”

“Neither can we, but whatever…”

I ignored her and took the food in for him, sitting across from him as he ate. He ate like he hadn’t eaten in days. It would have been funny, if it wasn’t true.

“Frey, who did that to you?”

“Just some f****n’ thug… No body important or ‘out to get me.’” He answered between bites.

“Why would somebody do that?”

“Fight. Self-defense. I guess.”

I looked him over. “He really knew some self-defense, huh? Looks like he beat the hell out of you too.”

He returned my look with a glare, “There was three of’em.”

“So… It was just a random fight? You don’t owe anybody money, or involved in a gang or something? You just randomly got into a fight?” I raised my eyebrows.

“I like to fight, what?”

He didn’t strike me as the fighting type. He was fit, and seemed to have some anger issues or at least an attitude problem. But he was overall quiet and seemed to keep to himself, hardly even spoke. I only saw him twice, so maybe I was reading him wrong. But he didn’t seem like the hotheaded type to just get into random fist fights with three guys.

Maybe there was more to him… I thought to myself, A dark side…

We sat in silence until we finished our food, and I put our dishes away and came back to hand him a smoke. The silence stretched for even longer, and I started to realize Frey really didn’t talk much. He didn’t seem shy, so to speak. He seemed almost anti-social, and could speak to people but just didn’t want to.

“Hey, you know there’s a few shelters in the city… They usually bring in extra people in the winter… Have you ever tried going to one of them?” I asked, my stomach was stirring…

He glanced up, and gave a crooked smirk with broken teeth. “With a bunch of religious idiots shoving their books in my face? Nah, I’d rather be homeless.” He shook his head, “Plus, I don’t even got an I.D. or a real name. So they’d turn me away even if I wanted to go.”

“You don’t have a real name?” I asked, my eyebrows pushing together while I tried to wrap my head around the line. “You told me your name was Frey.”

“Frey ain’t my real name. I don’t even remember my name, Frey was given to me…”

“Like a nickname?”

He gave me a weird look, “Sure… Something like that…”

“So, what? You have amnesia?”

He nodded, “Guess so… Don’t remember my childhood, or family, or nothing before like… ten…”

“What do you remember?” I asked, leaning forward in my chair. I wondered if he was playing a joke or lying to me, but his expression seemed so real. Plus, who would joke or lie about that…

“Uh… That isn’t really something I want to talk about…” and just like that, he shut down again and went silent.

I tried to talk to him more, but he barely replied in grunts to even simple chitchat and by noon, he already left.

The realization and paranoia hit me, and I began looking around to make sure none of mine or Kacia’s things were missing. I didn’t even know him and I just let him into my house, where I slept… He could have robbed us blind… raped or killed me while I slept… I didn’t even know the guy and I just let him right in. How could I be so dumb.

Nothing appeared to be missing, but I thought over the events carefully. It finally clicked how strange of a situation it was, and how oddly Frey acted. I only met him once before, barely spoke to him for more than an hour, and he shows up at my work for help. I lead him home instead of just taking him straight to a hospital, why? I cleaned his wounds without getting a straight answer of how he even got them or if the people were still looking for him.

He was mysterious and vague about everything, and left me feeling unsettled and confused… The way he talked like he had no feelings, the strange things he’d say that seemed to have another meaning that just went over my head, the claimed amnesia… All those scars he had… It honestly seemed like a ghost movie, or the beginning of some horrible campfire story. But… He was lonely… I could see he was so lonely even if he didn’t realize it. He felt hopeless, and didn’t even bother taking care of himself. He seemed so… damaged…

-Frey-

My leg still hurt, but I left that girl’s home anyway. She was starting to ask too many questions, as good as a person as she seemed and as rare as it was for someone to actually help me, I couldn’t stay around and answer those questions. Couldn’t risk her finding out more about me, or I’d have to kill her…

“Why didn’t you?” The monster asked.

It was a good question. I wanted to, and I thought about it a few times… But for some reason I didn’t feel like going through with it. Even though I was annoyed by her constant questions and sugar-sweetness, I didn’t want to slaughter her like most people who pissed me off.

She showed me kindness. No one ever did that for me before. She actually helped me when I was hurt instead of ignoring me or kicking me while I was down. I might have died if she didn’t help me.

I made my way back to the drifter spot under the bridge, and settled down in an isolated area away from as many people as I could be. As I sat and lit up one of my few remaining cigs, my mind ran in circles.

Why didn’t I kill her? I never spared anyone I thought about killing before, and she should have been no different. Why’d I even go to her for help? Have I gone soft? Am I slowly becoming that pathetic little brat The Man used to call me? I’m not one to care for anyone’s life or spare anyone. Life has no value. Humans have no value. They’re just cockroaches, a disgusting race that won’t die off. I hate them. Every one of them deserves to suffer and die. Why should she be any different?

It made my blood boil, and the monster stirred in my gut, clawing at it’s cage. It demanded death for life. It scanned the area, looking for prey. Someone, anyone, to take this anger out on. The urge was overwhelming. I had to prove I wasn’t weak. I had to find redemption. I had to cause suffering. I had to see blood. The Monster demanded it.

“Just kill someone.”

It’s voice echoed in my head, quiet and low.

“kill someone. Kill Someone. Kill. Kill. Kill!”

The growling became louder, to the point it shook my skull. I could feel the claws, scratching at the cage, demanding to be free. It wanted death, and it wouldn’t stop until it saw it.

“Kill!” It screamed. “Kill! Kill!”

I gave in.

Author's Note

I'm seriously confused at how three, four, and six got deleted, because I sure as hell didn't delete them and they ain't in my trash... but here, reposted them.