[bSetting[/b: Jude is 21, and Tommy is 28. This takes place after 18 part 1. There was never any Hunter, and Jude learned about Angie in LAWR (the whole story). Tommy told Jude in 18 that he loved her. [the whole speech went a little differently
[colorredThis fic is graphic is some parts. Reader discretion is advised.[/color
[iThis fic includes the above song by The Stars. It is not used in the beginning.[/i
[uDisclaimer: I don't own Instant Star, or the song.[/u
Seeing the man I was enamored with for three heartwrenching years clasping the hands of my older and less fragile sister put a hole in me that not even the largest of bullets could create. I marched across the lobby, and then soared across the marble floor. I rammed into one of the most significant fragments of my past, but I ignored it. He tried to stop me. They all did. But I, only I, could redeem myself.
I packed up my bags and left the depressed ruins of my history, and moved to Montreal. I bought a house with all of that money. It was grand house that was an exact replica of the miniature model I'd played with when I was a toddler. It had crimson walls, and pale yellow carpet. It had a fireplace, and a master bedroom that you would only see in the house of a royal family. The bed was elevated at least three feet off the ground. I admired that I couldn't see the ground beneath me. I felt as if I was dreaming upon a cloud. But, like all dreams, I had to wake up out of this one as well.
I finally unpacked all of those boxes on my 20th birthday. I'd become a ghost in this town. I was pale and weak, only leaving my safehaven to buy necessities from the local grocer. Sometimes I was too tired to carry myself three blocks to the market, so I ordered them off the internet. The face of the computer became a familiar one to me during that time. I cherished the trinkets that the machine brought me.
One day, I decided to search my old lover. It turned out he was in town- but not for long. He was visiting for some sort of interview. The singer had decided to bring his pure vocals out of hiding. I powered up his new song and sighed at the joy music brought. I hadn't listened to a song for months. I began to cry, and quickly turned down the volume. All I saw were flashes of our past. [iOur past.[/i I knew what I had to do. I called a producer that had once adhered to all of my demands.
I pulled a tattered navy-blue shirt over my head, and tugged on a pair of jeans that were far too baggy for my frame. I opened the door and the sunlight blinded me. My chalk-white skin sizzled in the warmth. I shielded my vision, and gasped. I squinted and pulled my hand away, and tears filled my eyes. I could almost hear the sky whispering[iWelcome back to Life, Jude Harrison.[/i
It was the end of the summer. August 17th, if I remember correctly. I took that fateful step, and as my foot hit the dry pavement, my bones crackled inside my leg. "Hi," I said to no one in particular. There were a few kids playing catch with a rubber ball. There was a woman hosing down her car. No one listened to my soft voice. I was inaudible.
I looked up into the pale blue, and noticed gray clouds jutting across the sky. Rain in summer was not impossible, but I frequently perused weather reports, and found that it didn't nearly rain as much as it used to.
My feet carried me to the Champlain Bridge. I looked down into the calm, placid water and took a deep, cleansing breath. I rested my hands on a rusty bar, and I noticed a pigeon had landed next to me. If I talked to it, I would be officially crazy. "Hello, bird," I found myself cooing. It was true. I had gone crazy, without him.
Then, much to my surprise, I sensed that someone was preparing to talk to me. I heard two males clear their throats, and I turned around. I tucked a strand of my dingy blonde hair behind an ear, and stared in silence. It was Kwest, and that disgusting thief who had stolen my soul.
[iGod that was strange to see you again[/i
"Excuse me." The bandit coughed these words and picked up a pebble from the surface of the walkway. He moved closed, and I backed against the rails. I clenched my clammy fingers against the metal and tried to dig my nails deeper, but my hands kept slipping.
"This is Mr. Quincy." Kwest's voice was raspy and rough.
[iIntroduced by a friend of a friend[/i
"Have we ever been acquainted?" My ex-lover's tone faltered, then relaxed.
[iSmiled and said 'yes I think we've met before'[/i
I restrained myself from either attacking him...or showing some form of affection. That flood of mixed emotions had caused my original downfall.
"Well, it's nice seeing you again. Have you been writing?" He grinned. We heard a rumble that shook the sky. Birds called and flapped their wings madly. A strong wind blew and rattled the leaves on the trees. I felt a lone rain drop slide down my cheek. Or was that a tear?
[iIn that instant it started to pour,[/i
"Let's go for coffee, and I'll tell you all about it." Despite my anger, I looped my fingers through his hair, and our gaze locked. I missed those kind blue eyes.
"See you later, man?" Kwest questioned from behind us, but we were already dashing to get out of the
heavy shower.
[iCaptured a taxi despite all the rain[/i
He kept staring at me in the darkness, and the driver hummed a lonely tune. He face was illuminated when we passed underneath streetlamps. I noticed he was stroking my arm, and it gave me such an excitement. I longed for his touch all of my life, and I only found it but four times. I needed more than closure. I wanted to start up our relationship again. But he just teased with his stoic glare. He bit his lip, he shrugged his shoulders, he tapped his foot. I couldn't think of his title, but it had better been a beautiful one with the talent of teasing he had.
[iWe drove in silence across Pont Champlain[/i
I was beaming inside, but I wore an expressionless mask.
"Are you okay?" I asked, and I gave him a glare.
[iAnd all of the time you thought I was sad[/i
He gave my palm a gentle squeeze. [iOne, two, three...[/i It was a 'code' that we'd learned from a book. I meant I love you. I didn't squeeze back.
[iI was trying to remember your name...[i
He played with the pink ribbon I wore around my wrist, and beamed. My God, he was that full cat. I knew he had to be proud, because men are. He traced a pattern from my thumb to my elbow, and noticed my scratch.
[iThis scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin[/i
"What's this?" He woke me out of my daze with concern.
"U-u-h," I stuttered, like a dumb mute.
"Not a good answer." He studied the mark and frowned.
[iTried to reach deep but you couldn't get in[/i
"Did you do this because of me? Because of Sadie? Oh, Jude, I didn't mean to-" He stopped, realizing that he couldn't fix the mistake she'd made.
"I tried to commit suicide," I murmured. "But not because of you. I wouldn't waste my time," I spat, and turned away.
[iNow you're outside me[/i
I saw him watching my face. He always had high esteem for me. I settled back against the leather seat and breathed in the smell of cigarette smoke. I mindlessly took in the image of water dancing down the windowpanes.
[iYou see all the beauty[/i
"We're here." I floated into the dilapidated coffee shop and he bought us two cups with extra whipped cream.
I stirred and sipped, routine-like, for at least 15 minutes. All I could remember is the blood stains on my lavender dress and the razor that had almost killed me. Had I done it to hurt Tommy? I didn't know. If he'd found out I had ended my life for him, would I have achieved my goal? No. My goal was for him to be mine, forever.
"You know that Sadie-" He shouldn't have sparked up that conversation. Of course I learned Sadie had kissed him, not the other round around. She was my sister, for Pete's sake.
"[bPlease, don't[/b," I squeaked, as I choked back tears.
[iRepent all your sin[/i
"I'm sorry, babes. You know how I feel about you. What I said that night, I meant it. If I lost you..." He lost composure here, and I saw his eyes glaze over, "I would be empty. You're my everything. You're my first real love, and my last."
I still didn't acknowledge the fact I believed him. Everything he was saying was true, but when I had torn that line into my skin, I had changed myself. He would have found someone better. She would have been more beautiful, more intelligent, more talented, more fun, and the list goes on. If I was dead, he would move on. He did it with Angie, and he'd do it with me.
[iIt's nothing but time and a face that you lose[/i
I relived my attempt in that moment. As he spilled his guts to me, I was mesmerized by the frothy brown liquid in my mug. The metal, like all metal, was sharp, painful, and unforgiving. It ached and it burned as it made a track mark. I tried to imagine that was I was anywhere else. But all I could see was Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy[i Tommy. [/i
"Tommy," I ordered.
"Yeah, girl?" He titled his chiseled face, and waited for my next word.
"It was my decision, not yours. So stop trying to heal me, okay?" I ignored the blaring signals within my mind, and stood up. He rose to my level, and reached out. "I want to help you. Those cuts are fresh. Why are you doing it?"
[iI chose to feel it and you couldn't choose [/i
"You can't save me!" I rushed to the door, and a jangle foreshadowed my demise.
I thudded down the street, pushing a flurry of people. Colors and scents and sounds clattered my mind, but I kept running. My nose was dry and chafing, my neck ached, and a disk in my spine was throbbing. The rain. I had forgotten about the rain. The water hit me with the force of tiny knives.
Tommy would still hear from me. He always would. But he wouldn't hear what he wanted.
[iI'll write you a postcard
I'll send you the news [/i
He had to know I was just a ticking time bomb, and I had to relocate.
[iFrom a house down the road from real love... [/i
I got a cab back to my house, and took out my boxes. "I missed you, guys," I mumbled, and began loading up my sleeping bags, my books, my toiletries, my clothes, and my knick-knacks.
I sobbed as I arrived at my in-between hotel. "Are you okay, miss?" The driver said to me.
"Fine," I assured him, wiping at my nostrils.
I felt relief as I set down the boxes. I heard my cell phone ring.
[bOne ring, two rings, three rings. [/b
'Don't pick up,' I screamed in my head.
A few years later, I received a letter. I saw that it was from Tommy. I smiled inside and expected it to be filled with tales of the tour bus and a list of his upcoming performances. Instead, the letter shocked me.
It read,
[iThere's one thing I want to say, so I'll be brave
You were what I wanted
I gave what I gave
I'm not sorry I met you
I'm not sorry it's over
I'm not sorry there's nothing to save[/i
There was an extra message: P.S. Check today's newspaper.
In fine print on the front page of the [iQuebec Times[/i, the headline was [bTommy Quincy, ex-boybander and solo pop singer, DEAD at 29.[/b
My goal wasn't to hurt him, but his goal was to hurt me. I opened my closet, and found my old best friend. I sat against the smooth wall, and started strumming the cobwebbed-laced strings. My vocal chords were a bit sore, but I figured it was because I had started crying again.
Through shudders, I sang.
[iI'm not sorry there's nothing to save...[/i