Title: "Gone Tomorrow" 1/1
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisita@yahoo.com
Fandom: One Life to Live
Rating/Classification: R for language, angst, John/Natalie.
Disclaimer: Not my characters!
Summary: Just a filler scene for the aftermath of the Music Box Killer's attack on Natalie.
Atlantic City is the armpit of the world. Cheap lights and the constant jingle of coins from the slots. He still hears that echo in his head. The mix of that bright shower of noise and his mother's smoky voice singing the blues.
It's his lullaby.
Lately blended with the theme from "Romeo & Juliet." And the sound of Natalie's voice, hoarse from the pressure on her larynx...from the red leotard wrapped, tightly, around her throat.
*Fuck*.
He almost killed her.
Caitlin...Cristian...her. So much death on his watch. While he's drowsing at the switch.
And, oh...Man...not her. Pink cotton candy on the boardwalk and her hair winding through his fingers as he pleaded for her to wake up. He was a stupid punk kid trolling the streets, looking to make a buck, and, who knows, he might have passed a little redheaded girl out buying liquor for her mom. He might have passed her and never known that twenty years later he'd be holding her and praying for her to breathe.
It's his lullaby.
The sound of her gasping and choking. The way she says his name.
When he hangs up the phone, there's a leotard wrapping around his heart and squeezing it. She's smart. She's a smart girl. She asked if he was trying to protect her from that lunatic. He told her "no." He said he can't do this right now. "This." There is no "this" but there might have been if he put a quarter in the slot and it came up cherries all around.
Ripley's Believe it or Not. She came to tell him that the world's largest ball of twine is at Ripley's Believe it or Not and she nearly died for it.
If she ever comes to tell him she loves him...
*Fuck*.
Like he said, she doesn't need a guy like him messing up her life. Like he said, he's here today, gone tomorrow. He won't take the gamble. He won't place the bet. He won't pull on the one-armed bandit.
And no amount of lullabies will ever rock him to sleep.
--end-
February 2, 2004.
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisita@yahoo.com
Fandom: One Life to Live
Rating/Classification: R for language, angst, John/Natalie.
Disclaimer: Not my characters!
Summary: Just a filler scene for the aftermath of the Music Box Killer's attack on Natalie.
Atlantic City is the armpit of the world. Cheap lights and the constant jingle of coins from the slots. He still hears that echo in his head. The mix of that bright shower of noise and his mother's smoky voice singing the blues.
It's his lullaby.
Lately blended with the theme from "Romeo & Juliet." And the sound of Natalie's voice, hoarse from the pressure on her larynx...from the red leotard wrapped, tightly, around her throat.
*Fuck*.
He almost killed her.
Caitlin...Cristian...her. So much death on his watch. While he's drowsing at the switch.
And, oh...Man...not her. Pink cotton candy on the boardwalk and her hair winding through his fingers as he pleaded for her to wake up. He was a stupid punk kid trolling the streets, looking to make a buck, and, who knows, he might have passed a little redheaded girl out buying liquor for her mom. He might have passed her and never known that twenty years later he'd be holding her and praying for her to breathe.
It's his lullaby.
The sound of her gasping and choking. The way she says his name.
When he hangs up the phone, there's a leotard wrapping around his heart and squeezing it. She's smart. She's a smart girl. She asked if he was trying to protect her from that lunatic. He told her "no." He said he can't do this right now. "This." There is no "this" but there might have been if he put a quarter in the slot and it came up cherries all around.
Ripley's Believe it or Not. She came to tell him that the world's largest ball of twine is at Ripley's Believe it or Not and she nearly died for it.
If she ever comes to tell him she loves him...
*Fuck*.
Like he said, she doesn't need a guy like him messing up her life. Like he said, he's here today, gone tomorrow. He won't take the gamble. He won't place the bet. He won't pull on the one-armed bandit.
And no amount of lullabies will ever rock him to sleep.
--end-
February 2, 2004.