Come Undone

02. The Haunted

FRANKIE

I laid in the dark for hours, as sleep always eluded me. Avoidance had become my greatest ally in the murky, bottomless depths of the night. It was difficult not to get lost in the evocation of thoughts that had once masked my sorrow. So abundant that I could practically drown in them. Of a world that wasn't clouded with darkness and anger and betrayal. One that exists now only within the confines of my memory.

The sound of rustling and a low whimper pulled me from my thoughts as they echoed from the hall.

"Linnnk!" My dog would scratch at my bedroom door until I opened it. Just as he did as a puppy when he would propel his small body against my door like it was a projectile weapon. "Alright, Alright. I'm coming." Sure enough, the chocolate brown eyes of my black labrador were staring up at me as I opened the door.

"Link, you know know what happens when you do this." He had this habit of staring so intently as if the entirety of your being was made of dog biscuits. "Don't look at me like that. You're not a puppy anymore" I sighed in frustration. "Get in here." As usual, he collapsed in a heap on the worn carpeting. Clearly the dog life took it all out of him. It was difficult to feign annoyance at my canine companion who was really part son, part confidant.

"You have to stop underestimating her. She will turn you into a purse without even batting an eye." Truthfully I didn't know if making purses out dogs was a real thing, but it sounded plausible enough. Link covered his eyes with his paws. Something he had done right from the beginning, whenever he felt like he was being scolded. A lot of it had to do with his life before us, which was spent caged in the basement of a puppy mill until he was rescued. That experience had made him more vulnerable to criticism and fearful of people.

Flashback (7 years ago)

"What do you reckon we name this pup, cub?"

"You mean I can name it?"

"Of course, baby.  We best not ask your mam. She'll come up with a frou-frou name like Monet, Dali, or Rembrandt," he replied, feigning disgust.

"I heard that!" mami chided, calling out from the studio.

"This little guy is a survivor. A warrior. He deserves a heroic name befitting of that."

"A warrior? How, Da, he's so small."

"He'll be big before you know it."

"Andy stop trying to influence her!"  mami chortled with amusement. She dried her hands on her smock and winked "I'm partial to Dali."

"Frankie, tell your mam that Dali just doesn't work for a pup."

I turned around, walked across the room, and opened the entertainment center drawer. I grabbed the Legend of Zelda video game I was looking for and held it up.

"Zelda?" mami asked, puzzled.

"No, Link!"

"Link is perfect, cub."

"You really are your father's child." mami jokingly exasperated.

"You remind me of that every day."

[ End of Flashback ]

Grandmother never wanted Link. He was my father's puppy, after all. I, however, had refused to leave without him. It had been an issue, but in the end, she realized that I had already lost enough. She was adamant that there were to be no reminders of the man who ripped her daughter from her home and brought her to the seedy underbelly of the world. Grandmother hated California. Hated Los Angeles. Hated anything to do with the world in which I came from. I hated it too, but for very different reasons. Mostly though, she hated Aindréas Jameson and anything that would ever remind her of his paltry existence.