Supermarket(56)

She took my hand and placed the piece of paper in my palm. With that, she rose to her feet, wiped a tear from her cheek, and left the room.

The last thing I wanted to do was read the letter. The only thing I wanted to do was read the letter.

As I opened it, I noticed Mia’s familiar handwriting. I began to read aloud.

My Dearest Flynn,

I thought I was ready for this. I thought I was ready to see you. The real you again! But I’m not. I’ve grown so accustomed to living in your loop. Coming to the hospital, entering those doors, and seeing this place through your eyes. Watching it transform into Muldoon’s right in front of us.

You’ve broken free from the delusion before. And having you, the real you, in my arms . . . that was amazing. But that was only once, and I wasn’t prepared in the slightest for what I felt after. The emptiness I felt when Frank pulled you back again.

I went from dating you in the real world to you losing your mind, then I regained you and lost you all over again. I’m sorry, but I just don’t think I can do this anymore. I just don’t deserve this. And that makes me feel terrible. It’s so selfish of me, because you are the person who doesn’t deserve this most of all! You are the one living with this. The one haunted by Frank.

I was there, Flynn. I was there and helped you escape the supermarket that time. And then he came . . . he took you from me! I just can’t do that again.

I love you, Flynn. I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry.

With remorse,

Mia

Tears rolled down my cheek onto the letter. I lifted my head, dropping my hands in my lap. “I told you she wasn’t coming,” said Frank.

And with that, I threw my head back onto my pillow and I slept . . .

And slept . . .

And slept.

? ? ?

When I came to, I was coughing. The room smelled of smoke. I checked the clock. 4:00 a.m. I looked around, squinting into the darkness.

The room wasn’t on fire.

Frank was sitting in the chair next to my bed, softly illuminated by the moonlight entering the window. He was smoking.

“Come to the supermarket, Flynn.”

“Dude, we’ve been through this a million times. I’m not letting you suck me back.”

I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my hands gripping my knees.

“No, man, that’s not what I mean,” he said, dragging on the cigarette, then exhaling a plume. The smoke was beautiful in the moonlight.

“Then what do you mean, Frank?” I said, my voice tired.

“I mean meet me at the supermarket. Leave this fucking place and . . . meet me at Muldoon’s in town.”

I didn’t understand. “What?”

“Just agree to meet me this Friday. If you do, I’ll leave you alone until then.”

“You want me to break out of here? This place is like a fuckin’ fortress, man.”

“Meet me there Friday,” Frank repeated, “and I won’t bother you at all until then. I promise.”

I thought about this and wondered . . . why? Why the hell would he want me to go there? But in that moment, I thought of Red and suddenly realized two things.

If I accept, that gives me three days to prepare . . .

. . . and this just may be the opportunity I need to end Frank once and for all.

Finally end him, in the very place he was created.

“Okay, Frank,” I said. “You win. I’ll meet you there on Friday.”

“At midnight, buddy.”

“Wait . . . midnight on Friday? As in Friday morning at twelve a.m.? Or Friday at midnight, which is technically Saturday morning at twelve a.m.? Just to be clear—”

“See you then,” he said. He put out his cigarette on the nightstand, right next to the classic-looking white alarm clock. As he lifted his hand, I stared at the butt of the cigarette, bent and withered.

When I looked back up, Frank was gone. I started tripping.

When I woke up coughing on the smoke from Frank’s cigarette, was that me choking on a figment of my imagination? Or was I the one actually smoking? And was I even in my bed? Or was I sitting in that chair, the one in front of the window?

And the scariest thought of all . . .

If Frank and I shared the same mind . . . was I ever really alone?

Did Frank know my thoughts, my moves, and even my subconscious ideas before I did? All of a sudden, all these questions raced through my head; the entire thing was such a mind-fuck. I couldn’t believe everything I had, and was, going through. It felt like something out of a twisted movie . . . but I guess even the craziest movie concepts stem from real life.

With that I coughed, stood up from the chair, laid down on the bed, and drifted asleep.

I woke up Wednesday morning feeling refreshed. Everything I’d gone through was draining, taking a tax on my mind and body—but they told me that was common in schizophrenic breakdowns.

The clock read 9:25 a.m. However, I noticed that next to the clock there wasn’t a cigarette butt.

Instead of the usual—racking my brain trying to figure out what the hell that meant—I decided to start my day.

Walking to the cafeteria was peaceful. Good ol’ Joe was drinking his coffee; Ann and I did our little antidepressant dance. And then I was sitting next to Red, eating pancakes, arguing about an episode of Friends.

“They were on a break!” Red said.