Frank P.O.V

I shuddered, my head felt like it had been run over by a truck. Trying to pull myself up, I immediately fell back down again. I was exhausted, all I wanted was another drink. Something to take the edge off my crippling hangover.

Knowing that I wasn't home, I didn't panic. Anywhere was better than there. Home- where my mother didn't except me for who I was, and my stepfather who just didn't 'father'. He was too busy looking after himself rather than me or my mother. I tugged at the throw, pulling it up over my shoulders. The iron smell from my clothes was growing more comforting as the seemingly endless seconds went by.
My fingers tapped at the spotless, dark wooden floor. I used my painted nails as makeshift drumsticks. Footsteps, and a hushed mumbling voice. Had I been kidnapped by a humane psychopath? One who had the decency to cover me with a blanket before harvesting my organs. I turned over so that I laid on my back, head dangling off the edge of the couch. The rush of blood to my brain was putting a stop to the headache.

"Morning." Somebody said, I couldn't tell from what direction their voice came from.

"Hello." I said dumbly, wiping my face using the back of my hand.

"Are you hungry?" The voice asked, getting closer to me. I closed my eyes; I was hallucinating, at least I thought that I was.

"Little bit." My sleepy voice was hard enough for me to understand, let alone for the person standing across the room from me. I couldn't see him, but I felt him staring at me. A small scraping sound filled my ears, a plate slid across the floor, a slice of chocolate cake placed directly in the centre, a fork sticking out of it. The smell was far too tempting for me to resist, and before I knew it my hands had grabbed it, and were shoving it piece by piece, ravenously into my mouth.

"You look it." The guy behind the voice was suppressing his laughter well enough, all that I could see of him was a pale elbow; his hand was placed on his hip.

"You haven't poisoned this, have you?" I asked, immediately realising that that was a possibility. The voice chuckled, insisting that poisoning me would be a 'waste of poison'. Whether that was meant in a kind way, or not, I didn't hesitate to shove another piece into my mouth.

Before long I was scraping the chocolate buttercream off the once pristine, white plate using the edge of my fork. The grating noise of metal against the porcelain was irritating me, however I wouldn't stop until every last ounce of it had disappeared entirely.

"Finished?"
I had completely forgotten that I wasn't in the room alone, his voice sending a shiver down my spine. My eyes darted around the room, trying to catch at least a glimpse of his outline. To no avail. I was left to think that I was sat in a room with a ghost, a ghost with good taste in cake-I might add.
I nodded, holding out the plate, the fork resting gently in the centre.
Pale, white fingers curled underneath it, leading me to believe that it wasn't a ghost with great cake sense. Instead, an abnormally fast, cold creep who was wallowing in the shadows close to me.

I heard the clunk of his boots fade away, then suddenly reappear in a matter of seconds. There wasn't an explanation for that.

"You live next door, right?" The voice asked, I shrugged. There were a lot of 'next doors' to me, and as for this one, I didn't have a clue.

"17 Wymore road, the house right there." Their hand pointed to the left, in the direction of my cruddy house. It's shabby, mint green, wooden walls outside, and its peeling wallpaper inside. I shivered, it was nothing compared to this house. Even through the darkness I could make out the black wallpaper, covered in a light grey paisley pattern.

"Oh. That house." I mumbled, sitting up straight on the expensive sofa, cupping my head in my hands.

"What's wrong with it?" He quizzed, as he sat down on the sofa opposite me. By now the dim sunlight had managed to pierce through the dull, grey sky. It was the early morning, and I still hadn't seen my saviour. He tapped his foot against the wooden floor, awaiting my response.

"I live there. That's what's wrong with it." I said truthfully, trying to stand. I needed to get home, my stepfather would question where I had been, pretending to care whilst my mother looked on proudly, admiring his newly-adopted sense of responsibility. My vision shook violently, and I almost fell. But he caught me. His cold, pale arms wrapping around my body, hoisting me back up to a standing position.

He was beautiful. His dark, brown hair, darker than mine, suited his face well. His fringe framing his eyes. Dark, soulless eyes staring deeply into mine.

"Careful." He said quietly, our eyes still locked onto each other's.
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Song Of The Chapter- Brave New World by Weezer

A.N
So I failed my physics test, and I'm kinda mad at myself. So I shall vent in the medium of story writing (: and it's only a day until I meet All Time Low and I'm currently dying :o