Page 98 of Family Affair
“I thought you two have outgrown this habit of solving your differences with fists, but I guess I was mistaken.” Ward’s voice intoned from where Frank couldn't see him.
“Screw off, Ward,” Cade wheezed.
“What happened?” Rick demanded to know in front of everyone.
Shaking his head, Cade stumbled away without replying. Frank couldn't have said anything even if he wanted, with his neck being pulled tight like a bow.
Giving Frank a look full of venom, Rick went after Cade.
“Release him,” Ward commanded.
Slowly, the force holding him slaked and he could breathe again. He slumped on the floor as a burly guy got to his feet. Of course, Abe’s security guard.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, the unfortunate incident is over. I am so very sorry. Everyone gets a ten percent discount on anything you choose to buy!” Abe got into his customer satisfaction mode, drawing people’s attention away from Frank.
He sat up.
“What happened?” Ward crouched next to him. His clear eyes calmed Frank like they always did.
“I hate my brother and I have no self control. Same old, same old.”
Ward assessed him, no judgement in his eyes. “You need to go home, Frank.”
“I do. I don’t know why I’m here in the first place.”
“It’s my fault. I shouldn't have insisted you came.”
Frank looked at him. “Why did you?”
“I thought if you came, if you saw firsthand how we share the wealth, support our community, you wouldn’t be so… hardcore about your talent.”
Frank tried to rub his face but it hurt. He must look like a low-budget movie monster.
Ward was such a lost soul for all his religious wisdom. How could he truly believe that if he tempered his illegal dealings with good deeds, his sins would be negated? Sins were sins. That was not how the atonement worked.
Getting slowly to his feet, Frank let his hands drop from his throbbing face.
“Call me a taxi, please. Will you?”
“I’ll take you home. Let me wrap up with a couple of people here. Won’t take but ten minutes.”
Frank nodded. “I’ll wait in the back.”
He wanted to use the bathroom, splash some water on his sore face, drink some. But Cade was in there, and probably their father, and hell if he wanted to go in with them. He was liable to lose his shit again.
He made it to the backroom where Abe had an office and where the storage was located. It was as cold and white here as in the main hall, with white walls, white floors, and sharp white lights. He sat down wearily on the edge of a wooden crate amid the clutter of unpacked art. Closing his eyes, he blocked out the distant hum of voices. If he concentrated, he could block everything out. At this moment, he was completely alone. No one needed him. No one called on him. He didn’t need to make decisions, to worry, to be afraid. To care.
The blessed nothingness.
Opening his eyes, he stared at the plain white wall, its matte finish absorbing light, serene and unblemished. He never particularly liked white and went more for bold natural colors, but then again, he’d never had a chance to express his true colors. Only to imitate the emotional expressions of others. As an artist, he existed through the prism of channeling those who had come before him.
But now, at this moment, white beckoned. Virgin pure. A clean slate. An empty jar. He would give anything to be that clean and empty. His hand closed around the utility knife lying next to plastic discards. Without thinking, he extracted the blade and slashed his left wrist but good.
Blood poured out and he held his hand carefully away from his body, letting the flow hit the white marble floor. He was shocked at how fast the blood flowed. Shocked and fascinated. The contrast of the rich red of the warm blood and the reflective white of the cold floor was almost obscene. And symbolic. Purging.
His cut hurt, but he didn’t dwell on the pain. Nothing could be done about it now.
The puddle on the floor expanded, its shape uneven like a mystic flower, and as more blood poured in, the shape changed, mutated, grew. His life force continued to run out in spurts as he was observing the bloodletting as if from a distance.
