(A/N) So, I thought I would try my hand at writing a fanfic. Please let me know what you think! I may write more based around other scenes from the film. Specifically, I might like to write Laura's POV during the bar scene (mainly the portion with the song Questions in a Word of Blue), if anyone would like to read it!
Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy my interpretation of...
The Voice of Love
Pure darkness. Nothing else.
It hurt her, knowing that death had come for her. Hurt and relief. For it was over. Death had come quickly, as dark as his shadow, more painful than she could describe.
She loved thrills. She lived for them, and nothing else. No one else. Not innocent Donna, or sweet James, or even reliable Harold. She could not live for any of them, because she had simply stopped living. She was still walking, talking, breathing, sure, but she had given up so long ago. All because of him. She felt him, always, like a darkness trapping her soul. Him and his evil presence, trying to possess her, to harm her, to kill her. And he had finally succeeded.
When she was young, she thought she had an ideal portrait of what her life would be like: cute boys, puppies, BFF'S, a fancy new car, a college degree, and continuous loving support from her parents. It hurt to think of them. She had loved her mother, she supposed, but there was always something off between them. She could not explain why, but she felt like they both had known this all along.
And then there was her father.
God, how she despised him! What he had done… she could never forgive him! But was it really him? She could not say she knew for sure, and that was what kept turning over in her mind, what kept her from leaving, and what kept her from allowing herself to find out the truth for so long. This, along with heavy pains of guilt, sadness, and misery, kept coming back to haunt her. Her misery, which she herself had caused, hurting the ones she had loved so dearly.
Poor Donna, for trying to save her crumbling soul.
Poor James, for being so sweet and foolish.
Poor her, for everything she had done to herself, and to her loved ones. She had hurt them. She knew this to be true. No one could refute this. Not even the man in her dreams. The man in the dark suit, who just seemed to radiate happiness off of him.
It did not matter how cute he was, or how warmly he had looked into her eyes. He just did not understand her. No one did. How could they?
And then, she felt herself move.
She felt red curtains flowing around her, as the chevron floor rose up to touch her. She felt her legs make contact first, but not with the floor. This was something different. Something… soft.
It was a chair. Leather, comfortable, but not quite what she desired. How could she be so picky in death? Sure, she could have gotten up, but for some reason, she remained sitting, even if she herself did not know why. It did not occur to her until much later to get up and walk around. This room had an almost tranquil quality to it.
She then noticed that her hair was in curls around her sweet face. As she touched the wavy lengths of her hair, she realized that she did not care anymore what she looked like. Gone were the days, she told herself, of dressing up for men she did not know. Gone were the long and tedious days of high school, beauty pageants, and county fairs. Things she never had cared for, that her father had wanted her to try. Her father….
She shifted in her chair slightly, and noticed she was wearing a beautiful black dress. Is this the same treatment that all dead spirits get, she wondered, as she moved her fingers down her dress. It fit quite snugly, and she was reminded of a similar dress she had at home, but this was lovelier. More ironed out. It radiated her beauty quite well.
What she felt next surprised her. It was a soft, warm touch on her shoulder. She looked up to see the man of her dreams, staring down at her with a smile. The smile was so different from the man in her nightmares, and she welcomed the dark-suited man's smile with a slight smile of her own, before looking away, unable to take in any more of his radiance.
She had known she was dead, but now, sitting near this man whose name she did not know, it hit her, all at once. She saw it all so clearly, her old life now gone, but that did not stop the fear from crawling in. Even with him there, self-shame hit her like a ton of bricks, and she just stared at the floor in memorized silence, meditating over all of it.
She knew she looked lovely, but she also knew that was not why he smiled down at her so lovingly. While she had never met him, at least in person, somehow she knew she could trust him. Wherever they were, they were at least together, and she felt safe. A feeling so foreign to her.
No sooner had the thought escaped her mind, when she saw a bright blue light, coming from the other side of the mostly bare room. Startled, she looked up to meet this light, and the sight that befell her eyes was too much for her to take.
A warm, little hand, stretching out from a white linen sleeve.
Soft wings glistening from the side, jutting out like white little clouds.
It was an angel, her angel, softly floating in the dimly lit room.
The light began to flash, from blue to white, and then she was back in darkness again. But the light was constant. It was there.
The light flashed again in front of her eyes. She stared forward, her eyes glued to the angel floating in front of her.
She nodded at this being, and she slowly began to smile. It felt good to move her lips in such a manner, a smile unlike she had ever seen, or given, before.
Her smile then turned into a gasp of wonder.
She knew he was staring down at her still, protecting her, making her feel safe, but she could not take her eyes off of the angel. She knew, as he did, that this angel was there for her.
The tears came so suddenly, and such strong relief with them. A wave of emotions hit her, all seeming to come down at once, and the tears kept flowing.
She nodded again, at both the man and her angel, before letting it all out. She sobbed, no longer afraid, no longer ashamed. It all came to her at once.
In this place, wherever it was, she was safe. Everything that had come crashing down on her before from her previous life, did not matter anymore, and she continued to weep tears of relief and anguish.
For even through those things did not matter anymore, she still reflected on her choices. They all felt like bricks. All of them, good and bad, light and dark.
This soon passed, and what came over her next was purely and simply love.
Pure love shone on her face, as she stared at the floating being that hovered over her head.
Pure love she felt in her heart for the man standing next to her, his hand still resting sweetly on her shoulder.
Pure love for herself. This amazed her to her core. She never knew that she could feel this much love for herself, and she began to laugh. If asked, she would not have been able to express why. She laughed at herself, how silly it all had been, her life. None of it mattered anymore. The drugs, the sex, the pain, all of it.
Her angel folded her hands in prayer. This made her laugh, too. Pure relief mixed with love and joy. God, how this felt so wonderful, so calming, so serene.
The joy filled her, and the light from the angel seemed to radiate down inside her, clearing her from her soul out.
This brought her the biggest laugh of all, and while she was nearly breathless from it, it did not bother her. Nothing seemed like it could bother her now.
And in that moment, if time was the same here as it was there, she knew this to be absolutely true, and this filled her with more joy than she had ever experienced before, and this seemed to fill her with more joy, and more and more, and when she thought she would not be able to handle any more, she felt her angel, even though it was quite far away, clear out the pains of her past, and this suddenly opened more room for joy inside and around her.
And as the room lit up, and darkened, and lit up once more, she saw her angel's hands, still folded in prayer, and this cleared away any of her remaining doubts, if any.
She felt as if her laugh would continue forever, but this was not a frightening thought. It was comforting, just like the warm, smooth hand on her shoulder, and the man to whom it belonged. He was looking at the angel, too. She knew this without looking at him, as her weeping and laughter mixed to create a new emotion: peace.