"Sorry, I'm not into short guys."

The following week after Frank something or others dramatic appearance in her life was rather peaceful, calming almost, just going to work and then coming home and then getting drunk on the cheapest bottle of wine available until she'd forget the horrors of her past, it was all so very, very normal. And in other words, it was extremely fucking boring. It was like the big bastard had torn away her sense of normalcy, reminding her of the borderlining chaos of humanity, of what it felt like to be seen by something that wasn't the cockroaches that occasionally festered around her floorboards.

So yes, it was safe to assume that Mallory was quite pissed, furious in fact with the turn of events that were close to ruining her, trying desperately to ignore the desolation of loneliness as it clung to her like a disease, engraved in her flesh for the whole world to look at, bleeding out of her at the seams but always failing, always being reminded of her sudden isolation...because even a painful longing was some form of presence that mocked her.

God, her life was depressing, she'd already knew that of course, but now it just seemed sad on a whole different level. And it didn't exactly help matters that the asshole responsible for her abrupt self awareness was seemingly avoiding her...not that she was seeking him out or anything, but it was still rude. And he was definitely still alive, she knew that much considering during the late hours of the night she could hear him moving around in his apartment, opening and slamming doors, moving around with those big ass feet, walking down the hallway to the stairs to no doubt do whatever thing he did that made him so...well, fucked up.

She'd tried to tell herself that that was a blessing, as rare as they were, and that she most definitely didn't want to be dragged into whatever mess he was getting himself into, that she was perfectly content with her shitty life and shitty job and shitty abilities that made her a monster of her own devastation, that made her a sinner with hands stained with morality and death...but she had always been a pathetic liar, that good old Christian guilt damning her in the eyes of the 'lord' that she didn't even fucking believe in anymore.

And, and she was pissed because the other night she had burned her stupid fucking finger which really wasn't anyone's fault but her own considering she tried to fix her broken stove while she was as drunk as a skunk or whatever that saying was, but she was still shifting the blame onto Frank because she'd eventually remembered in her panicked scramble to the bathroom that she'd left her first aid kit upon his doorstep in the hope's he'd take it because he most definitely needed it more than she did.

Something she really fucking regretted because her finger hurt like a motherfucker and it would be her luck to get some kind of infection from the crappy plaster she'd found tucked away in her cutlery drawer.

But it was when Mallory finally dragged herself to work it was then her day went from bad to worse. First of all, she'd been twenty minutes late because some asshole pigeon seemed to have some sort of vendetta against her and wouldn't let her leave her fucking apartment building, then, of course, that resulted in her getting screamed at by her boss who put her to work on the bar instead of serving duty...in other words where the tips were fucking made...but yet still managing to have the same amount of creeps that didn't understand that smiling politely didn't mean 'take me now'.

Which was actually a problem that she'd faced throughout her whole shift, because naturally, she couldn't have a days peace. There was a man at the bar that followed her every move all day like a shadow, leaning across the table to touch her hair, her gloves, staring directly at her chest instead of her eyes and smiling as if it was charming and not skin-crawling to the point where she wanted to peel her flesh off just to get the phantom regents of his hand off of hers...and there was only a number of times she could say the usual before she got fucking fired for 'disrespecting the customer'.

"Oh, I have a boyfriend. But thankyou for the compliments."

"Sorry, I'm not into short guys."

"Don't take it personally but I'd rather tickle my asshole with a chainsaw and deep throat a cheese grater before I'd let you fuck me."

Obviously she hadn't said the last one, at least out loud anyway, but by the time her shift came to a close and she began to walk her journey home in the ominous threat of the night where she swore she heard footsteps and felt eyes searing upon her as she turned every corner and walked past every dingy looking alleyway and building, she couldn't help but wish she had threatened the asshole just to make herself feel better...especially considering before she'd walked out the doors he'd thought it appropriate to slap her ass so hard that she could still feel the fucking tingling.

She hated her fucking job, actually, scratch that, she hated her entire fucking life as a whole, and when she finally reached her dark apartment with nothing to greet her but the shadows, she found it a miracle in the fact she hadn't thrown herself into oncoming traffic in her journey as she slammed the door shut behind her.

There was a sob building in the ruins of Mallory's throat, an exhaustion that made her very bones ache with the burden of loneliness that lingered like ghosts in the night, keeping her awake with thoughts of what her life could of been if she'd simply been born without devastation hidden in her veins waiting for a moment to explode. And of course, it didn't exactly help matters that she was out of wine, which definitely would of helped her deal with her absolute shit show of a day, but that was neither here nor there as she simply sat on her clean carpet and cradled her head in gloved palms.

She didn't even know how long she stayed there, bitter and repressed and full of wicked sin, fighting back the tears that would drown her in grief...but a sudden knock on the door was what finally tore her away from the dangerous state of mind, causing her to slowly rise on unsteady legs that trembled with her brows furrowed and mind racing a mile per minute. Who the fuck would be knocking on her door? The only time someone had ever knocked on her door had been that one kid selling girlscout cookies and she had run away crying after talking to her for only a minute.

Hesitation pulled at her, winding around her neck and pulling taunt with thoughts of mass murderers looking for a stupid victim to open the door to them, all the while curiosity urged her forward with beckoning fingers, whispering in her ear that it could be something important, it could be her landlord or neighbour...perhaps even a talented stray dog that had learned to knock on doors to beg for scraps or something equally as other worldly, she'd definitely seen stranger things in a world haunted by aliens and superheroes and assholes in masks.

So, with that in mind, Mallory forced her gloved hand to curl over the door handle, ignoring her every sense that ordered her to fucking walk away, and opened the door...she really wished she hadn't of even dared.

"What the fuck-" She'd barely even gotten the yell out before the man from the restaurant, the man who had fucking followed her home was lunging across the threshold, his sweaty palm against her mouth, muffling her screams as she struggled against him, nausea and panic clawing at her stomach with his bare flesh against her own, watching through his eyes, watching him following her, hiding behind walls, around buildings, diving into bushes with his hand against his cock and his mind alight with disgusting fantasies, the likes of which made her mouth fill with bile as she struggled harder.

No, no, no, please God, no.

His arm was around her waist, pinning her own to her sides as she desperately tried to kick at him, biting into his palm with sharp teeth and feeling blood beginning to curl upon her tongue which only made her want to throw up. She didn't want any part of this man on her or inside her, but as he shoved the door shut behind him and forced her to the ground with something shiny passing over her vision, she was coming to the awful, traumatizing conclusion that she wasn't going to have much of a choice in the matter as she tried to buck him off, jerking around like a dying fish because this wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening.

There was a knife pressing hard against her neck, a bead of crimson sin following the line of the blade like it was a bloodied caress, his wide, haunting, disgusting eyes glaring down at her as he muttered on for her to just be fucking quiet, that he'd slit her throat if she didn't stop moving, that this was all her fault as he tried to tug his pants down with the one hand he had free while Mallory was being assaulted by his memories, his crimes, his everlasting sins until her mind felt like it was no longer her own, nothing more than an abyss of darkness because her powers were going to ruin her far more than he could ever hope to.

And then the door to her apartment was kicked open with a mighty CRASH! The door swinging from its hinges, broken beyond repair as it dropped and clattered to the floor...and then the weight that had been pressing her down to the ground was suddenly ripped away from her, letting her fucking breathe as she gasped and drowned on her own tears, twisting herself around with her trembling hand clutching her own chest as she sobbed and gurgled with her throat slick with bile and blood...before she finally lifted her burdened head to look up at her mocking saint.

Frank.

Frank something or other looking like a vengeful god with his teeth bared and eyes as wild as a feral animal, soaked in madness and hatred as his furious fists plowed down into the mans face where he straddled him on her once clean carpet, over and over again as bones broke and her would be rapist choked on the blood filling his mouth with his jaw dislocated and hanging limply to his neck in a grotesque mocking of a puppet cut from strings. Anger, hatred, rage, all of it festering in the air, forcing it's way to her flesh, because her neighbour wasn't going to stop until the bastard was dead.

And Mallory most certainly wasn't going to be the one to stop him as she watched the crimson pool forming around her floor, sinking into the cracks, staining it for years to come as she watched as his skull was caved in, as his eye socket exploded, watching it all like she wasn't even there, like she was merely a spectator in her own body, a still breathing ghost in the haunting moonlight that christened her anew.

But she was dropped back into the present, back into her wicked soul by the feeling of skin against hers once more, a gentle cuff at the bottom of her damp chin, a warm embrace of humanity that made her cry out as she suddenly registered being touched, throwing herself backwards with her hands held desperately in front of her as if that could wane them away with her flesh rolling with revulsion and fear...only to find Frank looking at her calmly, crouched and hunched over with bloodied palms spread out peacefully. "Hey, hey, easy, you alright? Huh? You hurt? He hurt you?"

"No, no- I'm- I'm fine." Mallory forced the words out, grimacing at the way she stumbled over them, feeling very much like an animal backed into a corner, and knowing that she much of looked so to if the way her neighbour was trying to do everything in his power to seem smaller, conscious of the space he'd take with that aura of death and rage.

"Good, that's good. Hey, eyes on me, don't look at that bastard, yeah? I took care of him, just keep those pretty eyes on me. Gonna' get ya' cleaned up, alright? Fix that little cut 'case it gets infected or some shit." He said carefully, as softly and as gently as he was able to with a voice that sounded like the rumbling thunder threatening you with godless lightning in a storm, inching closer to her shaking form as her trembling fingers brushed over where his gaze lingered, feeling the wetness of her own mortality as it coated her fingertips, soaking through her gloves like grief.

"I gave you my first aid kit, dickhead."

"Yeah, I know, never got the chance to thankyou for that, did I? Came in handy the last couple nights." And wasn't that the truth, she thought, as the young woman took a closer look, dark eyes drifting over the numerous bruises scattered across his handsome face, the butterfly stitching on his forehead, looking like he'd gotten into some sort of fight with a fucking lunatic...which she was starting to suspect he very well might of as he closed the distance between them, finally, letting his palm hover over her flesh, but not daring to let them brush, as if she was something sacred and he was unholy.

"You think you're alright to walk? Move around and shit or you want me to pick you up?"

"Don't fucking touch me." Mallory hissed, jerking her arm back where his palm was about to press against her with something wounded passing over her bloodied lips, halfway between a sob and a snarl, oversimulated and bordering on ruin as her mind began to pick itself apart with madness and divinity. But all the same, she forced herself to rise, feeling the uneasiness in her legs, the drop in her stomach, the agony in placing it's way through her veins as she finally stood up with a pained wince. "And stop talking to me like I'm fucking stupid, asshole. I said I'm fine-"

Of course, almost instantly, she was fucking proved wrong because fate was a little bitch and the whole world seemed out to get her as her legs folded like a bloody lawnchair...and the only reason her ass didn't hit the ground was because Frank was suddenly behind her, not quite touching her no, simply letting her rest her back against his large chest, the pounding of his heart leaching into her own, hands hovering over her, warm and bloodied, grounding her like an anchor to sea. "Never said you were stupid, but you're borderin' on shock. You need to keep breathin' or you're gonna' pass out, you gonna' be able to do that for me?"

"What? Breathe? I think I'll manage." She watched him cautiously, keeping him in her view as he moved over to her shitty kitchen with his loud footsteps echoing around the abrupt silence of her apartment, soon followed by the noise of her tap as he began to soak one of the tablecloths by the kitchen sink with a furrow to his brows that she fought the urge to soothe as she slowly began to walk over to him quietly, unable to stop her eyes from drifting, from lingering on the maimed corpse currently ruining her new carpet. "I should of seen him. I should of fucking seen him."

"Hey, hey, this ain't your fault, you hear me? Bastards probably done this shit before, but he can't anymore, okay? He ain't going to be doing shit anymore, made sure of it." Frank was swift to stop that bullshit in its tracks as he knocked the tap off and marched his way over towards his neighbour, carefully handing her the raggedy rag, making sure he gave her the distance she desired as she pressed it against her neck, forcing hard on the sharp sting, the lick of pain that blistered it's way to her consciousness, taking a moment to let herself breathe, forcing back the decay that begged for destruction.

"In other words, you ruined my carpet...again."

"Yeah, you're welcome for that. Looked shitty anyway."

Mallory let out a snort, scoffing in indignation because he had some fucking cheek as she pressed the cloth harder against the wound, letting a hiss slip past bloodied lips while raising her eyes to meet his own, pretending she couldn't see the dark amusement shining in his gaze as he leaned against her counter like he owned it, something she was going to let him off with considering the fact he'd saved her from a fate worse than death...but she definitely wasn't going to be taking slander about her carpets. "Fuck you, my other one was so much nicer before you fucked it up. It was easy to clean and-"

"Bullshit. I could see and smell every fuckin' thing you'd ever had for dinner stained in there, did you a favour. Only matter of time before rats were gonna' start festering about."

Okay, perhaps he did have a point there, just because her old carpet had been easier to clean didn't mean she actually did so. However, in her defence, depression was a cruel mistress that had hooked its claws inside of her and refused to let go, no matter how hard she tried, she prayed, she begged, it always lingered softly like an uttered curse, just waiting for her to fall so it could welcome her home in it's dark abyss of nothingness. "Hilarious, asshole. If your daytime job of being a pain in the ass doesn't work out I'm sure you can try out for a comedian."

Her words were beginning to slur together, she could hear it, she could feel exhaustion beginning to creep up behind her now the adrenaline had disappeared and left the need for peace in its wake as her shoulders sagged, curling in on herself tiredly, fighting to just keep awake...unaware that Frank was still watching, tongue licking over the corner of his split lip as he considered her, before he cleaned his throat with a grunt. "You should go to sleep or somethin' and I'll sort this shit out. By the time you wake up tomorrow it'll be like nothin' happened. Call it even for fuckin' your carpet up again."

But Mallory merely looked over to the man that was dead upon her floor in frustration and terror, still feeling the chaos of his hand on her flesh, the phantom memories that whispered in her ears, a wretched ghost that would soon sing and haunt her with mourning and grief. However, it seemed that her neighbour was not taking no for an answer as he stepped towards her, tilting his head to make sure he was heard. "Hey...I said I'll take care of it. Sleep it off. Ain't no one comin' to hurt you tonight."

And it was only then that the young woman finally nodded her head, as she sighed and began to limp over to her bedroom where she could be weak, her arms wrapped around her stomach in a mocking embrace that comforted her...only to pause, just as her gloved fingers brushed the door handle, to look at Frank from over her shoulder once more, hesitating for only a minute, before forcing the words to tumble out of her mouth before she could change her mind. "Come to me. If you get hurt again, come to me and I'll fix you up...that first aid kit I gave you was shit anyway."

And please god, don't make me regret this.