He was barely awake and ignorant of his surroundings. He heard distant shouting, a commanding voice urging him to wake up, but he had no idea why. The last thing he remembered was going to bed next to his wife. Now, he was being ordered like a soldier at war.
"AGGHHH, FUCK!" the man shouted as jolts of electricity surged through his body.
His voice reverberated around the dim, dungeon-like room. His head throbbed, and he had no sense of where he was, as if he were under the influence of some psychedelic substance. His body was soaked in sweat as he tried to make sense of his situation.
"Wake up! You've been asleep for three hours now. Time is limited, and you have answers," a voice from above objected.
The man shook his head, regaining his senses. At first, he could only make out a shadowy silhouette of another person standing by a window, watching him. Below were double doors. Gradually, everything else came into focus. A blinding light emitted from a massive lamp beside him, causing him to squint. Seated in the centre of a windowless room, he was bound to a creaky wooden chair. His outfit was rather simple, blue jogging bottoms paired with a rugged black t-shirt and sturdy boots. Standing tall at six foot four with his eyes, a deep shade of dark brown. His hair was barely there, just a buzzcut that he always kept super short, much to his wife's annoyance. A thick beard framed his face, neglect that stretched about three weeks without a trim as well as the hairs inside his nose. His skin, weathered and worn, creases etched deeply into his forehead and a loss of smoothness, the man was only in the middle of his third decade of living. He boasted a sturdy frame, with muscles rippling beneath a layer of fat. His broad shoulders, thick arms and chest held memories of countless hours spent labouring or lifting.
"Wh- Wh- Where... am I?" The man struggled to say, looking towards the window.
The man's voice possessed a rugged and gravelly texture, a commanding boom that seemed to fill the space around him effortlessly.
"Patient's name: Leo Jordan. Age: thirty six. Date: July first, two thousand and nine. Time: four eleven AM. Mr. Jordan, what events can you recall from the past twelve hours?" the figure questioned with a hint of authority, his voice extremely low and deep.
Leo, struggling to find his words, finally managed to speak.
"Huh? Uhh– I... I can't remember anything. Why can't I remember anything? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME!"
"Relax! You seem to be experiencing mild anterograde amnesia. Let's take it easy," the figure replied, trying to calm Leo.
"What the hell does any of this even mean? And why am I a patient?" Leo retorted, still shocked by the absurdity of the situation.
"You'll find out in due time. For now, I need you to focus."
"Oh, I see. 'FOCUS.' How can I possibly FOCUS when you people won't even tell me where THE HELL I AM?" Leo spat out in disgust.
"Where you are doesn't matter, and the more you resist, the longer we'll be here. You might have answers for some very important individuals," the figure replied firmly.
Leo glared at the figure, his eyes narrowed. He pondered what kind of government secrets he could possibly hold. He was just an honest carpenter earning an honest living. What answers could he provide?
"Look, I have a wife and kids. I seriously need to get back to them, and I can't even remember how I ended up here."
It all feels like a fever dream
"I understand,"
"Just listen and stay quiet for a moment. You may not recall it now, but terrible things have occurred, leading to catastrophes that I won't elaborate on at the moment. You seem to be a key factor in this."
Leo was at a loss for words. What on earth was the figure talking about? Was this some sick game being played on him by a sadistic person, or was he caught up in a massive government conspiracy?
"I want to rewind back fourteen years ago, nineteen ninety five to be exact. What can you tell me about a man named Frank Edwards?" The figure spoke over Leo's running thoughts.
The name sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. He began to think, tapping his fingers against the worn oak chair, his mind racing, trying to figure out who Frank was.
"nineteen ninety five? Frank? Ah, yes FRANK. Well, he's my best friend, of course," Leo said, then thought again to himself, muttering, "or was he a family member?"
"AGGHHH, WHAT THE HELL, AGAIN?!" Leo squawked towards the window.
"Remember more. Dig deep. Who is this guy to you?" the figure demanded, patience wearing thin.
"I don't know what you mean by 'dig deep.' Yeah, I know him. What about it?" Leo replied, his hands weak from the pain.
"I need to know about him—his personality, how he treated you."
"Yeah, he was good, sometimes bad."
"More. No vague answers. I need to know the real details. Did anything traumatic happen to him?"
"Okay, okay. Just don't zap me again, you... you know what. Let me think,"
The vibrant orange sky was stirring to dawn in Iowa as Leo's eyes slowly fluttered open. His tank top peeled onto him from the copious sweat he produced, rendering him unable to find restful sleep. Tossing and turning had failed to bring relief. With a forceful jerk, he threw off his sweaty covers and glanced at the alarm clock: "06:21 am, Sunday, August 5th, 1995." He let out a groan and reluctantly pulled his lanky, slim frame out of bed. His short beard itched again, a rash was going to form from the sweat irritating his dry skin as he scratched it throughout the night, before finally managing to fall asleep in the heat. His straight, short hair was fine in terms of comfort but stank badly of body odour. Leo decided it was time for a shower. He hopped out of bed and went over to his drawer, gripping the small circular handle and sliding it open. Amidst the mess of miscellaneous clothes, he remembered that he had been thinking of buying some clothes for Frank, considering it was nearing his birthday. The thing was, Frank did have clothes, but they were very odd, and his sense of style was the same— mismatching things that should never be seen together. Leo decided to check how many days he had to prepare for Frank's present. He walked over to his alarm clock and checked the date again just to remember.
"August 5th."
Holy fuck, it's Frank's birthday!
Leaping across the hallway to his roommate Frank's room, Leo began banging on the door with a force that could rival an earthquake.
"GET UP, MAN! HAPPY TWENTY FIRST BIRTHDAY! WE'RE GETTING SHITFACED TONIGHT!"
Without waiting for permission, Leo burst into the room and started singing in an annoying tone "Happy Birthday."
"Happy birthday to you, Happ—"
"Shut the hell up, Leo," Frank grumbled hoarsely.
"*Sniff*... Damn, you smell like shit,"
"I'll jump in the shower soon. But you gotta get out of bed," Leo replied.
"Why so early? Sun's barely up," Frank groaned wearily.
"Because it's your damn birthday,"
"Alright, what'd you get me?" Frank asked, his voice clearer and more attentive now.
"Yeah..."
"All expenses today are on me, including the drinks tonight. We're getting wasted."
"Nice," Frank said with a grin, now fully awake and excited for the fun they were about to have, something he'd been missing for a long time.
Leo grabbed a handful of clothes strewn across the floor and flung them at Frank's face, hoping to get dressed. His shutters hadn't been opened in ages. Frank's desk was a jumble of papers and books, none of which seemed related to schoolwork—just random drawings and doodles from his vivid imagination.
His actual work was tucked away in the nearly empty dust-clumped closet. All his overdue homework and projects remained untouched or severely delayed. This was ironic, given Frank's supposed professed passion for building and architecture. He often boasted about his love for it and dreamed of becoming an architect. Moreover, he and Leo had made plans during their senior year of high school to pursue architecture together at university. Whether those plans would materialise remained uncertain. His appearance was also unusual, he stood at a height of five foot nine, with straight medium length hair. His nose, pig-shaped with his emerald green eyes with bushy eyebrows so thick that would need garden tools to trim down. Underweight and visibly skinny yet nowhere threatening for his health. He consistently spoke in a timid manner, his voice carrying a soft rasspiness. It was often hushed, blending into the background of nearly all his conversations.
"Get dressed and get out of bed. I'm making pancakes!" Leo sprinted out of the room
Thirty minutes later, Frank emerged to find Leo making pancakes and blasting music that could be heard from miles away. Sitting down at the dining table, he stared at the floor, lost in thought.
"How much syrup do you want on your pancakes?" Leo asked.
"A bit… I don't know." Frank replied.
Leo's shoulders slumped, his lips no longer moving to the beat of the music that had been playing loudly. He was now strangling the handle of the frying pan, still sizzling with pancake. He turned off the hob and moved the pan of undercooked pancakes to a cooler part of the stove. Walking over to the speaker on the kitchen counter, he pressed the small button. Now, there was nothing but the weight of Frank's depression that was sucking the soul out of both of them.
"Again? Fucking seriously?," Leo turned and slightly shouted.
"What are you talking about?" Frank replied, feigning ignorance.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. That cocksucker George." Leo irritably spat out.
I swear, I'm gonna strangle him
He yanked a chair out from under the table, the sound of scraping against the marble floor filling the room. He plopped down heavily, gripping the table's edge with both fists to let out some frustration, pressing his palms into the surface. He could sense the pulse in his wrist as he struggled to contain a deeper anger rising inside him.
"When the FUCK are you gonna stand up to that smug piece of shit? You can't keep letting him treat you like a BITCH. This has been going on for weeks. I'm not going to keep bailing you out because to him you're a helpless target. Where's your backbone man!?"
Frank was unable to defend himself against bullies like George, and this wasn't the first time. Throughout Frank's high school life, he had faced many "George's". Leo was always there to support him but Frank continued to be picked on without fighting back.
In Leo's eyes, he was inept of handling tough situations, despite him trying to act tough while he's with Leo and won't do anything by himself.
"It's fine... I can deal wit—" Frank weakly started.
"That's what you always say, and you end up coming back here looking like a depressed sixty-year-old widow,"
"...yeah."
Leo huffed, he lifted his hand and brought it down with a solid strike on the table. Frank flinched, quickly adjusting his posture by straightening up in his chair and lifting both drooping elbows.
"I'M NOT FUCKING PLAYING MAN, did you get that?" Leo asked.
"Jesus Christ… yes, yes I did." Frank quickly replied.
"Good." Leo firmly ended.
For the rest of the day, Leo and Frank pushed pessimistic thoughts aside, focusing on carefree fun. In the evening, they went to a nightclub. Leo had a plan to help Frank connect with a girl. The last time Frank had attempted it he had pissed himself.
"What? It clearly says I'm of age," Frank retorted.
The bouncer held his laugh together and gave Frank his ID back. Leo had to drag him past the entrance to save them from embarrassment, Frank tried to intimidate the bouncer with a stare but didn't seem to be acknowledged. They found their table, and Leo couldn't help but notice Frank's nervous glances at a girl seated alone at the bar.
"Talk to her man," Leo suggested, kicking Frank in the shin and gesturing his head in the direction of the girl.
Frank stood up, adjusted his shirt, and walked confidently toward the girl.
"Hey, uhh... do you mind if I sit here?" Frank asked politely.
"Sure. Why not?" the woman replied, a half-smile on her face.
The music's volume prevented Leo from hearing the rest of the conversation, but he observed that things were progressing well for Frank. Then the girl slapped Frank across the face and walked away. Leo couldn't help but chuckle. He slowly returned to the table and slumped into his chair.
"Fuck was that?" Leo asked, stifling a laugh.
"I don't get how girls behave. We were having a decent conversation about ourselves and our education, and then I told her I wanted to touch her boobs to express my feelings, you know, like you said," Frank replied, his tone flat.
Leo's heart sank, and he cringed deeply. His laughter turned into annoyance.
"You IDIOT, what part of 'go talk to her' meant THAT " Leo explained, frustration evident.
Frank was a vegetable. He seemed as embarrassed as he did back in high school.
"Can we just leave, man?" Frank said monotonously.
They departed from the club moments afterwards not staying for long overall, the cab ride home shrouded in silence. They didn't exchange any words. Leo noticed tears streaming down Frank's face as he gazed out of the car window and couldn't help but feel bad. When they arrived back at their apartment, Frank pushed past Leo and slammed his door without uttering a word.
"Guess it's goodnight," Leo muttered aloud.
Eventually, Leo too climbed into bed, exhausted from being awake for twenty straight hours. Within minutes, sleep overtook him.
"RAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH."
Leo jerked upright in his bed, He was trembling from fear. Was that a human scream or an animal's cry? His mind spun with a myriad of thoughts, trying to decipher the source of the blood-curdling sound.
"NOOOOOOOOO, WHY FUCKING WHYYY!"
Leo recognised it as a human voice. In a state somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, he darted out of bed and rushed to the dorm's living room.
Frank was curled up on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, holding himself as if he were a helpless child. Leo's gaze took in the bloodstains on the TV, accompanied by a massive crack. Strands of hair littered the floor.
"WHAT HAPPENED"
Frank reached out with a trembling hand, struggling to hold onto his phone. The text messages from his father. Frank's mom had been hit by a drunk driver.
"I... am s-s-sorry, man,"
"How long ago was it?" he cautiously inquired, not wanting to worsen the situation.
Frank's voice was hoarse as he responded, "four hours ago. The worst part is, she was just a couple blocks from the bar."
You'd think she would've died from an STD, fucking whore
"Oh my fucking god," Leo whispered.
Days passed. He chose to no longer converse with Frank, either keeping out of the house or burying himself in his Architecture project that was due at the end of the year. He left Frank to his own devices, not wanting to intrude or exacerbate his pain. Would Frank ever recover from this? Leo had faced his own share of hardships, yet, never had a real connection with his mum. He could never understand his pain. Frank remained mostly secluded in his room, a dishevelled wreck. He could easily compete with the crackhead outside when it came to scruffiness.
He rarely left his room, only emerging for meals and the occasional bathroom visit. Rarely, Frank resorted to urinating in his bed because he couldn't be bothered to leave his room.
Amidst plugging away at his current assignment, Leo found his mind wandering. Thoughts of Frank's well-being crept in, stirring him from his pen and paper at the ready, on his desk. He couldn't continue brushing aside his best friend's struggles with depression, leaving him alone was doing the opposite of what he was hoping for. He pushed back his chair and made his way toward Frank's room. He knocked firmly on the door, ready to persist. To his surprise, Frank answered almost immediately. A grin adorned his lips as he welcomed Leo.
"Hey," Frank said with an over the top light tone.
"Hey, man," He reached out and they exchanged a quick dap.
"I've hated seeing you like this for days now man. If you wanna move forward in this fucked situation, action is the only medicine for your grief. Mr Shelby has been sending me emails about how us two haven't been showing up to class. You wanna go in fifteen?, Leo asked.
"Yeah," Frank responded, very quickly.
"Hit the shower, change up and we leave," Leo said with a nod.
He then headed to his own room to gather his belongings. As he walked back towards his room, his mind was preoccupied with thoughts about the day ahead. Lost in his own world, he didn't notice that Frank had momentarily frozen.
Leo was subconsciously waiting to hear footsteps leave Frank's door. He paused just before entering his room and turned around. Before he could fully process it, Frank had already shaken off the moment and was making his way to the shower.