He went ahead and asked, "Hey, dude, is something wrong?" in a genuinely curious tone.
What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck
"How... long ago... did this happen?" Leo gravelled, feeling his heartbeat pounding throughout his body.
"Right after I left class, I thought it over for around an hour and made my decision. Met up with my contact, and he sold me all the shit,"
"Still, why do you look so shook up, man? You good?"
"Why...why…would you do this?" Leo managed to push out in a husked voice.
His face was turning copper, every cell in his body was in a frenzy to stop himself from doing something that he had only seen his father do in the past. His whole skeleton urged him to mutilate Frank, tearing each piece of skin off his face and plastering it onto Leo's knuckles. His thumbs were earnestly digging in and squishing Frank's eyes, gouging through them and leaving him blind. A part of him also couldn't believe that Frank was capable of murder. Something was changing in Frank; this wasn't the depressed and self-loathing, malnourished excuse of a man. This wasn't the same boy who urinated himself out of pure fear when trying to ask out a girl back in their junior year of high school, nor was it the same boy who had previously asked a girl upfront to grab her boobs as a flirting tactic.
Before Leo's trembling body stood a man who had just committed murder, someone who would now have to be on the lookout and be anxious twenty-four seven if the police had linked him to be a key suspect. Leo was at the scene of the crime. Possibilities would arise that he actually assisted in the murder. It's not shocking considering he had a dispute with George just hours ago and was best friends with the potential main suspect.
"Because of your advice man. I took in what you said that night, on my birthday. About really thinking things over before I make a move. So, I did. I put an end to this prick," Frank declared with a sense of pride, nodding toward George's lifeless body.
Those words shattered Leo's mental and physical restraints. His mind ignited with a fiery; his eyes widened to their fullest extent. His teeth, previously slightly jittered, now became motionless, grinding against each other with intense force. His ears rang with a singular focus. Years of pent-up anger surged through his veins, finding an outlet in this moment to unleash all his frustrations on his supposed friend. Leo lunged, grabbing Frank by the collar with both arms. His thick fingers pressed into the black cotton shirt, his fists tightening with such force that numbness spread through them.
His forearms flexed, his biceps hardened, and the pulse in his hands reverberated. Despite the pulsing, his grip remained unyielding. Leo hung his head backward before driving it downward, aiming his rough forehead directly at Frank's nose. A few drops splattered onto Leo's forehead, but the majority formed a mark on the point of impact. Frank's face became a canvas for the blood, streaming down his cheeks and chin. He staggered back, clutching his nose.
Leo threw himself downward and collided with Frank, sending both crashing to the ground. Frank's fragile form met the unforgiving earth, leaves rustling to the side. With Leo now on top mount, his weight pressed down on Frank's chest like a dagger sinking into flesh, while Leo harboured intentions far darker than mere physical force.
"DOES THIS MEAN ANYTHING I'VE TAUGHT YOU OVER THESE FUCKING YEARS"
His right fist which was already dying to kill something, squeezed itself and slammed straight onto the right cheekbone.
"YOU'VE JUST RUINED OUR LIVES"
Leo's left knuckles slammed into Frank's left cheekbone, chipping bits of bone and scraping skin, blood spurted out.
"ALWAYS, YOU'LL NEVER FUCKING CHANGE. THE SAME SHIT SINCE HIGHSCHOOL. AGAIN AND AGAIN. I'M GONNA KILL YOU MYSELF NOW"
Leo's oversized hands gripped Frank's head, holding it like a deflated basketball. Each finger dug deep into his skull, eager to crack through. He lifted the stiff and bewildered head and smashed it on the ground below.
"FUCK YOU!"
He smashed his head again.
"FUCK YOU!"
Then Again.
"FUCK YOU!"
Finally, Frank gave a physical response. Leo was ready to continue working at cracking his skull but started to feel it shaking. He got back on his feet and was met with Frank having a seizure. His whole upper frame was jittering and shaking uncontrollably. Leo could notice his eyes were turning bloodshot; simultaneously, his shaking was becoming more vigorous.
Some pieces of Leo's anger were subsiding. Though, the adrenaline still shooting around his brain maintained a lot of it, and he couldn't think straight, knuckles remaining focused on wanting to chop through brains. His erratic breathing also didn't help, ears still ringing as he watched his best friend of many years choking to death.
Is... this really that bad, Leo?
Think about it, leave this rat to suffocate, like you should've done... seven years ago. You haven't bled, so forensics can't catch you
You can sweep out of this huge forest and let some random fucks call this in, cops show up and rule Frank as the murderer who died by accident himself
Slip back into the dorm and pretend like we never left after the shit show happened in class. You already know all the blind spots; we've done this before
Frank's state had deteriorated even further. Leo's trance broke as he saw foam starting to leak out of his mouth. His eyes were completely red now.
With more foam came a croaking sound, and it appeared that Frank couldn't breathe anymore; the foam had constricted his airways, and now he was going to end up the same as George. The demonic fog in his mind disappeared. He dove for the bag Frank used to carry his revolver bullets. He raised Frank's head and slid the bag under his head and rolled his head to the side. The foam poured out instead of black clogging, and his throat was getting less constricted; oxygen was now shimmering its way in and out.
Leo fell on his backside. He could only wait for the seizure to stop as he focused on his own breathing, calming himself. Leo huddled his knees up and shoved his head downwards, hands gripping his calves, trembling at the bloodied fingers. He was just confused. His mind just hurt and his heart was eating itself up, and he stayed like this for another solid five minutes.
"Agh– Fuck man" Frank said, spitting excess foam out of his mouth.
Frank was on one knee, holding his head with his eyes slightly rolled up. Thankfully Leo didn't land enough punches to make serious indentations, just two small cuts on each of his cheekbones. Though the more serious matter now was what words were going to be said next.
"Damn— I haven't been punched like that in a long time,"
"That was coming eventually," Frank chuckled to himself.
"You think this is funny?" Leo spoke quietly.
"I'm laughing at myself," Frank shot back sternly, looking straight at Leo and no longer holding his head.
"okay,"
"It's been a shitty few days," Frank grumbled, staring into the abyss of trees.
Leo didn't respond; instead, he just looked past Frank and stared at George's lifeless body. Even under God's vision, how were they going to be able to clear this mess. So many things had to be accounted for, and Leo knew he wasn't equipped to go on the run if the police found out he was an accessory to murder.
"You remember the fall of sophomore year? five years ago," Frank asked.
Leo looked away from the body and at Frank, who himself was still staring into the trees.
"sure,"
"No, I mean do you really remember it?"
"Just fucking say it."
"The end of year party at Rebecca Wayne's house. The... 'incident'... people used to call it,"
"Oh... that," Leo murmured.
"First time I ever got into a fight, damn... that was an experience."
"You got knocked out in one punch," Leo said flatly.
"But I got a good one in myself,"
"If I wasn't there, you wouldn't have been able to throw."
"True… Fucking wannabe frat pricks think anyone looking at their girlfriend is a flirting tactic," Frank scoffed.
"Some people are born to be delusional," Leo said.
"For sure. Though they weren't saying much after you knocked their asses out."
"I mean… how do you lose a four versus one?"
"Especially that fucking loudmouth, John. I didn't see it, but I was glad that you threw him into a wall… fucking Greek bastard." Frank ended with disdain.
"The next day when everyone in school was gossiping about it; his girlfriend had to run into the bathroom during maths because so many people were trying to ask her what happened."
"I remember that whore… she actually did try to flirt with me at the party. I said no because you could smell her VD from across the country. The hoe got mad and told her boyfriend I was flirting with her," Leo said, posturing himself.
Leo could see Frank was refraining from bursting out laughing; he just kept a grin on and nodded.
"Heh, just to end up crying in the toilets over a cuck who she doesn't like." Frank added.
Leo finally broke a smile and laughed, but within a literal two seconds, he remembered there was a dead body just a few metres from them.
"SHUT UP! I don't think you've realised, you DUMB FUCK but there's a dead body right there" Leo growled, pointing towards George.
"I know,"
"WHAT THE HELL DOES ANY OF THIS HAVE TO DO WITH HIGH SCHOOL THEN?" Leo asked.
"I was making a point,"
"THAT YOU'RE A PHYSCOPATH?"
"NO!" Frank finally shouted, getting on his feet, staring up at Leo.
"The point I'm trying to make is that we used to be brothers, man."
"WHAT!?"
"EXACTLY THAT. No BS back then... It was fun then, man."
"Look at us now... a fucking brutal beating that nearly killed me," Frank said, feeling the cut on his left cheekbone.
"You think I wanted to do that shit?" Leo objected.
"You don't seem to realise, Frank, you're the reason for ALL OF THIS. I didn't want to hurt you... but YOU CAN'T GIVE ME MANY CHOICES WHEN YOU'VE JUST MURDERED A MAN!."
Even though he deserved it
"I'm not saying you're wrong about the past, but the reason it may be like that is because you'll never change,"
"You finally stood up for yourself...sure. But you did it in one of the worst ways possible, you've just ruined your life. So many years of trying to help you, and without fail, you either ignore my advice or now take it in the most extreme way."
"You've been in hell your entire life, I'm not gonna keep trying to get you out of it"
"That's why I'm leaving" Frank said with a sigh.
"What?"
"I'm leaving Iowa, America entirely. You were right about everything you said, I'm a fuck-up, and I feel like I don't belong here anymore. Too many screw-ups, been relying on people my whole life," Frank explained.
"Killing this asshole was just something I had to do... realising who I was started after my mom died," Frank said, nodding his head towards George.
Oh my fucking god
In no exaggeration, Leo had been wanting to hear these words of accountability for seven years. It only took several years of bullying and a murder for it to happen.
"Damn," Leo said, now just realising those other words about leaving America.
"I know, but it's gotta happen,"
"Okay... where will you go?"
"All the way over in a town called Richmond, it's part of London. Which, by the way, is in England,"
"I know where England is, you retard. Why there though?"
"The contact I mentioned earlier is a... 'businessman,' you could call him. With the inheritance money I got from my mom's death, I paid him to drive a boat from here to an offshore dock in England. I've got forged passports and IDs, like driver's licences. I'm leaving tomorrow morning," Frank explained.
"What? You said 'passports.' You're just one man. Why the hell do you need multiple?"
"Well... I had documents for you too," Frank said.
"Are you joking?"
"No, man, I'm serious. Before, I thought you would be more gracious about George—"
"WHICH I now know is wrong," Frank quickly added in response to Leo's enraged expression.
"But I thought you would come along... would you still be willing?" Frank asked weakly.
"NO! YOU FUCKING EXPERIMENT. WHY WOULD I EVEN CONSIDER THIS? I HAVE A LIFE HERE. I'M NOT GOING TO DROP EVERYTHING AND BECOME A FUGITIVE,"
"I'm asking because of your... financial problems,"
He grabbed Frank by the collar and slightly lifted him.
"You mention that again... I'll break your neck," Leo growled.
He threw Frank to the ground, immediately turned around, and started to walk away.
"George is your fucking problem... If you come near me or the dorm again, I'm calling the cops," Leo shouted, walking off into the trees.
"I got back to the dorm, propped a chair against the handle, and went straight to my next assignment. I worked for hours that night... honestly didn't check the clock once,"
"But we both know you accepted Mr. Edwards' offer," the figure replied.
"I don't care about your reasons but for one. Over the hours you had to mull over the situation while you were supposedly studying, how did you reflect on your friendship with Mr. Edwards?"
His palm was quenched, a T-rex's hand holding the sturdy pencil and gliding it quickly across the current line, copying words that would form into sentences. At this point, he didn't even know what he was writing, mindlessly transcribing information from a textbook. His mind just needed an action to do as Leo was switched off. He hadn't thought of it since he actually started walking back. He didn't want to think. It was half past midnight; it could have been possible that Frank had already sailed out. In about a week, he would sit in England under a new identity, a new man, free of the social responsibilities, reputations, and relations. Frank didn't know a quarter of the problem for those 'Financial issues' he mentioned. Overhearing a minute of him on the phone with a financial adviser still showed him how bad it was. All student loans were lost, already tens of thousands of dollars in debt, and he hadn't reached his final year yet. The SPS wouldn't dare to think of giving him another loan to refloat him; he would squander all the money on needless things like clothes, watches, and alcohol. All that wasted money on outings to bars and clubs, just to end up blacked out with a hard migraine the following day, all in the name of 'fun'. Though money wasn't just the issue, it was also the people. To him, everyone in his university was soulless. The women were tasteless. Promiscuity plagued everywhere, with threesomes to fivesomes going on, making him want to ignite a flame onto everyone in those parties. He hated university life, regardless of his current situation. The scum of society lay here. Just after high school, he thought he would find his wife here. This idea vanished from his head when going to his first house party in fresher's week. He saw a girl who he thought looked beautiful getting teamed up by five other people, men and women. It gutted him, and those dates he went on for years after made him paranoid. He feared they all had a form of STD and lied to himself that they were modest. Each case proved they were some form of a town bike.
Making friends was also another impossible task as everyone was a degenerate to him, either sniffing cocaine or blazing weed at a house party. He stopped going to them the year prior after realising he was getting no fun out of them because of the amount of narcotics and lazy, wide-eyed bums who used and abused them. It felt like a zoo inside these houses, and he would find himself leaving early, each time for fear that he would kill someone. Even the people who didn't take drugs impaled his frontal lobe just as much, all douchebags who didn't know what real friendship was. Hypocrites, back-talkers, deceivers, and scumbags. The number of times he wanted to huddle them in a corner and watch them burn was countless, flamethrower or grenade them into ashes. It all made him so angry, something he was just getting tired of. Leo had nearly become his father earlier on that day. He was tired of having to face these people every week, he was tired of the anger that rotted and worn his brain. He needed a fresh place to be calm, somewhere where nonsense couldn't erode him.The only person he could ask for help was his best friend, Frank. Regardless of their problems, they had been friends for seven years. He was a loyal friend who stuck by Leo's side since freshman year of high school. Even if it was extreme and very stupid, he still gave Leo an offer that no normal friend would: a chance to escape. Leo didn't want to believe what his gut was telling him, but he remembered that eviction would meet him soon, and he would have to escape onto the streets. Throughout all of this, the most worrying thing that now had Leo's mind in a frenzy was the murder of George. Leo didn't even know if Frank had disposed of the body, or anything in that fact. The police would have already sent out a search party and found him in the forest.
Even if Leo managed to dodge any CCTV dorm cameras, there were still a motherlode of street cameras directly tracking him to the forest. His face would eventually be plastered on walls. Leo finally broke the monotony of writing and snapped his pencil in two, whole forearm shaking in anger. The veins in his forehead bulged. Those suppressed thoughts were right; the US was no longer habitable for him. Whatever Richmond had in store for him couldn't have been worse than the hellhole he lay in. Being either homeless or in jail soon wasn't a good idea for anyone. Within a few minutes of calming down and breathing, Leo got up and went to find his phone. The decision was already made; ignoring all anxious yet rational thoughts, he dialled the number. If there wasn't a response, it meant he was on the boat as he was dialling. To his luck, it picked up.
"Are you close to leaving?" Leo asked.
"No"
"Okay then. I don't want any questions, I fucking mean it. I'm getting on that boat and we're sailing to London."
"Alright… I'm heading over now,"
A burst of more anxious thoughts washed over his mind, but he just ignored it. Nothing about this was rational, so why try to think like that? In half an hour, Frank made it. He knocked with three single loud thumps, each knock just a second apart. Leo walked over as the chair blocking the door was vibrating from knocks and pulled it off, unhooking the latch and opening the door. Frank was still in the same outfit from earlier but had some noticeable marks on his shirt.
"Has it been dealt with?"
"Yes,"
Leo walked inside, making room for Frank to come in.
"Okay, what do we do?" Leo asked, confused to shreds.
"The guy sailing us has all the documents already, we're good on that. But I need you to listen, just for forensic reasons we gotta both have showers and clip our nails. Then after that's done, we can pack and get out and onto the road, I'm driving," Frank said while walking around the living room and checking for anything he may need to carry.
"That's all good. One problem I have though is how exactly is our disappearance gonna be… explained?"
"It won't, we go missing," Frank said.
"Woah… shit… that's kinda fucked, man. I won't be able to say bye to some family members,"
"How the fuck do you think I feel? I've got a crippled dad I'm leaving behind. You have no right to complain; you took this knowing the risks," Frank whispered indignantly.
"Yeah… yeah… you're right," Leo stared at the dust-ridden floor.
Frank immediately got into his room and started grabbing clothes for the shower while simultaneously starting to pack. Leo did the same. He rushed into his wardrobe and hurled out a gigantic silver-slated suitcase, then opened it up. Now dashing around the room, he shoved all his clothes inside, ripping open every single drawer from his bedside table to his homework drawer.
By the end of it, it was barely able to close; it took him a literal minute to close a ten-centimetre gap because of the pure pressure. When Frank came out of the shower, Leo grabbed his new pair of clothes and had a quick five-minute shower. He came out, clipped his nails over the toilet and flushed them away. Without drying his hair, they shot out the front door, both dressed in somewhat dark clothing. Leo himself in black jeans and a black Nike hoodie. While they were in the corridor of doors for their dormitory, both men had to pick up their suitcases as they couldn't be heard moving at one in the morning. Leo had a whole shipwreck to carry down three flights, but as they made it to the ground floor, they wasted no further time. Leo dropped his suitcase, rolled up the handle, and started to run following Frank to the car. It was the same black sedan which he used to carry George, though there were no signs of a murder anywhere. They drove out of the main city and into the outskirts. Throughout the whole ride, Leo had to blank his mind as his brain and limbs were disconnected in logic. Frank pulled up at the entrance of a dock, trees surrounding them but oceans only lay beyond this seemingly deserted place for contaminants to be exported and imported twenty-four-seven.
"Come on," Frank ordered, taking the keys out of the ignition and pocketing them.
He slammed the car door shut as Leo came out himself. They both walked around to the trunk and retrieved their suitcases. While gripping his handle, a strong sense of bleach emanated, this answered some questions. They went through the open entrance and onto the dock, suitcases bumping over the small pebbles repeatedly. Frank stopped in his tracks; they made it to a set of stairs but there was no boat in sight.
Leo knew not to question as he had no idea what type of police-avoiding tactics these criminals were willing to pull off. Frank got out his phone and dialled a number.
"We're here," he whispered, immediately hanging up.
Not a moment after, a few metres from the stairs, lights turned on from a small boat. The engine roared as it paced through the surprisingly calm ocean and up to the side of the stairs. Only one man stood sailing; he docked the boat with some rope and came off, walking up the stairs.
He was wearing a filthy white t-shirt with oil stains on it, brown boots, and black joggers. He was balding in the middle and had some missing back teeth; the only hair he had left was greying out from black.
"We alright lads?" The Englishman spoke.
"Yes, how are you Mr Clemons?" Frank asked in an overly-formal voice.
Leo nearly sniggered at the name but realised he could get executed at any moment so he quickly hushed himself.
"Aye, lanky one, you speak?" Mr Clemons spoke aloud to Leo.
"Yes." Leo firmly replied.
You bald fuck
"Alright, lets get the fuck out of here" He said with a nod, then turning and stepping down and back onto the boat.
Both Frank and Leo brought their suitcases down and tossed them onto the boat. It was a cruiser, so it had enough space to sit, and they would be able to store their suitcases in a compartment underneath. However, sleeping would be terrible through the next seven days as they experienced torment. To call it Hell would be extremely generous; they were in the trenches, and it didn't make it any better to have Mr. Clemons ramble about random things that didn't make sense after because of how sick they felt. Nothing made sense for any of those days; it was a vacation for a trip to death. Seven days of torment and they finally arrived in England.
"Dude, wake up. We've arrived,"
Frank himself was sleep-deprived, having only managed three hours of rest over the past two days. Leo's bloodshot eyes slowly fluttered open, his lower body aching from the contorted sleeping position. Any other posture would have left him in a hospital bed with neck pains. His arms were numb, a sensation that made him contemplate jumping off the boat.
"Yeah, I'm awake," he mumbled
"Richmond, here we come," Frank said while looking up at the vibrant orange sun rising from below.
Now fully awake, Leo squinted against the rising sun covering it with his hand, and took in his surroundings. They appeared to be at some kind of dock. Rows of containers stood nearby, but there was an absence of cargo ships. The place was devoid of workers or any signs of life.
"Hey, Mr. Clemons, not to be a needle in the ass, but where are we?" Leo asked.
Frank jolted to his feet and clamped a hand onto Leo's shoulder. His expression was a mix of fear and seriousness, and he shook his head slightly. Leo understood, though the nature of the danger remained uncertain. He didn't know if they were being set up or something.
"No need for questions. We're here, that's it, keep your mouth shut. I'm doing something" Mr. Clemons responded, his attention divided as he typed on his phone, seemingly disinterested in Frank and Leo.
"Sorry, um, I'm a bit lost. This place doesn't seem right, it's completely deserted…"
"Not another fucking word, or you'll get a bullet in your skull. Get off this boat. A coach is waiting, other tourists are onboard and you can blend with them. Ten minutes from here, show your ticket and head to London. You so much as breathe a word about this place, trust me, you'll end up here yourself,"
"MOVE" the sailor bellowed.
The two grabbed their forged IDs and passports. Clutching their suitcases, they threw them onto the dock's surface. Gripping the grimy concrete edge, Leo felt cigarette butts and dry mud getting lodged under his fingernails as he strained to pull his lanky frame onto the damp surface. Despite the minor agony, a fleeting sense of relief washed over him. He realised that he was shedding the weight of constant stress, presented with a chance to overhaul his life. No more wasting time in America; England was now his new home.