Title: Ripping the Fabric of Reality to Shreds
Disclaimer: All standard disclaimers apply here.
Genre: Gen, Future!Fic, ANGST
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1880
Characters: Chris, Wyatt
Summary: My name is Chris Halliwell and I'm 16 years old as I write this.
Notes: A big thank you goes to my speedy beta, yami-tai!
Day 1
My name is Chris Halliwell and I'm 16 years old as I write this. I'm half witch, half whitelighter, I have magical powers and I'm the descendant of the most powerful witches ever born, the Charmed ones… but I still can't escape this Hell.
I've been in this world for over a week now. Or at least I think it's been a week. There is neither sunrise nor sunset in this world, only the ever present twilight. Everything is grey and dark and foggy and there is no rain or wind, only the cold, a creeping chill that seeps into my bones so deep that I fear I won't ever be warm again.
As I said, I've been here for over a week but only now have I accepted that I will never leave this place. That I will stay here until I die… If I die.
This is the first day of the rest of my life.
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"Why don't you just disappear?!"
That was what I yelled at him when I shoved him backwards with my powers, Chris, my annoying little brother who always got underfoot, who always followed me around like a puppy, never leaving me alone, suffocating me with his constant need for attention, his nagging.
That was what I yelled at him when the rift in space opened and he, shoved backwards, stumbled through it, eyes wide with panic, hands reaching out for me, my name on his lips.
I tried to grab him because that wasn't what I really wanted. I didn't do it on purpose, I didn't open the rift to get rid of him, I don't even know how I did it or if it was my doing at all.
I shot forward, trying to grab him as he fell into the swirling mist of another space and time but before I could even get close, the rift snapped shut with a loud crack, our reality rippling like the surface of a lake, straightening then falling into place.
And my brother was gone.
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Day 47
As I thought, there is no one here but me. Nowhere.
The buildings tower over silent streets like grey, unmoving guardians, their shadows just pools of darker grey. The whole place looks like a warehouse district, the bad side of town. I tried to find some normal houses, family homes. I walked for what seemed like miles, for what seemed like hours, but I might as well've stayed in one place.
Warehouse after warehouse after warehouse… Each one just like the next. Mirror images. Copies.
At first I thought it was a curse, that something is trying to hold me in one place. So I shattered the window of one of the warehouses and walked away to see if maybe I would come across the same building again, if maybe I was going in circles…
I didn't.
Row after row after row of grey buildings. All of them empty, shells with no heart.
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Mom and dad, my aunts and uncles… all of them keep telling me that we will find Chris. That maybe the next spell, the next incantation will bring him back, that maybe the next demon will tell us where to find him before we vanquish him or the next ghost before we exorcise it.
Nobody blames me for what happened. Or at least they don't tell me to my face. But I can see their looks, hear them whisper behind my back.
Only Jessica, mine and Chris' little sister, is honest. Only she yells at me and says out loud what everyone else just thinks.
"It's your fault, Wyatt! Your fault!"
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Day 73
The worst thing is the silence. I'm the only one who makes any sound at all. There is no wind to whistle round the buildings, no rats to scurry along the walls. Sometimes, I break things, shatter windows, kick in doors just to hear something, to convince myself that I haven't gone deaf.
But as the time passes, I'm purposely making as little noise as possible. Every silent creak vibrates inside my skull. My head feels like a giant bell that thunders when you strike it.
And there is no one to talk to but myself. Just yesterday I found myself whispering, whispering to myself, asking questions and answering, holding both sides of a conversation.
It scares me. I think I'm going mad.
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It's been three months, two weeks, three days, seven hours and eighteen minutes since Chris disappeared. I know it exactly because I've counted every minute, every second.
All our attempts to save Chris, to bring him back from… wherever he is now… failed. They… we… tried everything. The Book of Shadows, even grimoires that reeked of evil and burned mum's fingers when she leafed through. But we didn't find anything. There is no spell to bring someone back from…
And that's our problem. From where?
The Charmed ones came to the conclusion that since we can't contact Chris, since we can't bring him back, he must be not only outside normal space but outside time too. Somewhere, where everything has stopped or nothing has even begun. In a place that the human brain can't even begin to comprehend.
I hear them talking in the kitchen, doing some supernatural sort of brainstorming. But I don't really listen to them. I stand in the living room, facing the fireplace, looking at the spot where the rift opened and swallowed my brother.
And the last words I said to him: "Why don't you just disappear?!"
I pick up grandmother's favorite lamp and throw it against the wood mantle of the fireplace where it shatters into thousands pieces.
And I scream.
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Day 104
I wonder if I've counted the days correctly. There is no difference between night and day here so I count the periods when I sleep as nights and when I'm awake, it's day.
I write this 'diary' on the walls of the warehouses. This one is the 104th that has something scribbled on its wall. I use whatever I can find as a pen. Today, it's a small shard of glass.
It's weird. I tried to cut myself, just to see what would happen. Just a small cut on my thumb. The wound opened and closed again, not one droplet of blood. That scared me, more than anything. Because if I can't get hurt, can I even die?
I don't feel any hunger or thirst and I don't really need to sleep anymore since I'm not growing tired. I feel like I'm living in a photograph, in one moment in time. I do have past but I have no future.
Does that mean that I will roam here forever?
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They don't allow me to do anything anymore. No spells, no magic, no research. They don't even allow me in the attic anymore.
Ever since they found me crumbled on the floor of the living room, crying and yelling incoherently, my powers hotwiring, turning the room into a disaster area, spreading outwards, passing through the walls, shattering windows.
It was the first time my father ever hit me. He hit me so hard that he knocked me out. The maelstrom stopped immediately, things shattering and breaking as they fell to the ground.
That's been almost a month ago. I don't remember the last time that I went outside, that I went to school. All I can think about is Chris.
Where is he? Is he even alive? Is he suffering? Or did he die all those months ago and all our attempts to save him are an exercise in futility?
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Day 158
I wonder how they are. Do they think of me? Are they still trying to save me or have they carried on with their lives?
I wonder if they are even still alive. Does the time flow differently here? Does it flow at all? They might all be dead already as far as I know. Everyone who ever knew me or knew of me might be dead now. Maybe nobody even knows that I ever existed.
My family will know. They just have to know…
Mum and dad and Jessica and Aunt Phoebe and Aunt Page and uncle…
And Wyatt.
I wonder if he is happy now that he got rid of me. I hope he is happy. I hope that at least something good came out of… this.
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They stopped looking. They just stopped looking. They are telling me something else but I know the truth. They are saying that they will keep trying but it's been almost a year and everybody has to move on, return to their lives, to their families. They will keep looking but there are demons to kill and children to feed and bills to pay…
Chris disappeared and the world dares to keep turning like nothing happened!
They can go to hell! All of them!
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Day 361
Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall
Ninety-nine bottles of beer
Take one down, pass it around,
Ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall…
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A year. A frickin' year since my little brother disappeared. Since I sent him who knows where. And it seems that nobody cares anymore.
Mom is at the club…
Dad is with the Elders…
Jessica is at school…
Aunt Phoebe is…
Nobody cares anymore. Nobody but me.
I want my brother back. I want him back and I'll do anything to accomplish that. If I have to rip the world apart, tear it to shreds to discover the place he went, I will do it and I don't care what it'll take, who will perish, what I'll destroy.
I can feel the place where my brother is. It's just out of touch. I've been able to feel it for weeks now. Is it my powers doing that? Or my determination to destroy this reality to find him? I'm sure that I can do it because I know what I did in that different future. I do have the power to shape things to my liking.
My family is afraid of me. They can feel the darkness growing inside of me. I hear them whispering, talking about binding my powers before they… I… turn evil. They want to do it tonight, on the frickin' anniversary of Chris' disappearance. Like some twisted celebration. But I can't let them. Not when my brother is somewhere out there and I'm the only one who cares.
I stand in the living room once more and stare at the fireplace again. I feel the power boil inside me, growing hot and hotter until it radiates from me turning everything around me to ashes.
With my brother's name on my lips, I concentrate everything that I am on the one spot just in front of the fireplace and tear the fabric of reality apart…
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Day 1/365
My name is Wyatt Halliwell and I'm 18 years old as I write this. I'm half witch, half whitelighter, the Twice Blessed Child, I have magical powers and I'm the descendant of the most powerful witches ever born, the Charmed ones…
I've finally found my brother and this is the first day of the rest of our lives…
The End
