College is tough. It kinda got to me again. So, i played around with some ideas.
Disclaimer: No, i do not own the FHH. But i would LOVE to meet him.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
A chill slowly gnawed at his chassis, piercing into the peaceful feeling of his body. He was numb and comfortable, so he told it off and tried to slip back into that calm dip of sleep. But the cold only continued to absorb its way into his frame. He shifted, forcing his bolts to release from the lovely stiff position they were locked in and turned his wheels in, trying to keep the body heat as much as possible. Perhaps if he just closed off the exposed parts that would release the most amounts of heat, he could delay waking up until later. But the alertness of his mind had told him that this was the end of sleep tonight.
Slowly, he cracked open his eyes. They met the bright light of the lamp with regret. He must had forgotten to turn that off before he went to bed. Closing his eyes and cautiously opening them a few times, he allowed his eyes to get used to the light. What also registered through his vision was the realization that he wasn't in bed at all. He yawned, stretching out the relaxed shocks and suspension springs, only to hear the sound of crumpling paper. He stopped and looked down.
"Aw, no! Hudson, you idiot!" His text book was open in front of him, the current pages facing out now bent back and torn.
He sighed heavily, smoothing them out as much as possible and eased the book shut. That book caused another dent in his hard earned money. Took him three races to buy that book, all 1900 pages of it. The bold capital letters of the title reminded him of his current situation.
GRAY'S ANATOMY
He sighed in defeat as the previous day coursed through his memory.
...
The first thing in the morning was Gross Anatomy. The test the teacher handed back to him was face down on the desk in front of his grill. He stared at it. Every test decided his mood for the next three weeks. He had started studying for that particular test the previous three weeks, and concluded with staying up all night before the test to review. He had it down. But when the questions were typed on the paper before him, his confidence slowly drained as he worked his way through the pages. He handed it in numbly. Taking a deep breath, he looked away and flipped it over to the front. Then he looked.
Score: 71... C.
His heart stopped. All that work, all that worrying, all that sacrifice... And a C? Not even a B, which is a "good! But better luck next time". A measly C.
The car beside him laughed at the Hornet's shock. "At least you passed! I'm not even showing you MY grade!"
But barely passing wasn't going to make you a good doctor. And that was the third C on tests in a row in this class.
Putting it out of his mind, he switched gears as he went into Biochemistry. The previous class fogged his mind, so he wrote the notes from the board faithfully, telling himself he'll figure it out later when his mind was clearer. The next two classes weren't much different. It was another laundry day of Medical School stress. It just piled up on top of everything, in no ways of order and all of it heavy. But with all his homework turned in and new assignments neatly placed in his folder, Hudson called it a day and retreated to the safety of his apartment, which he loved being on the first floor.
It wasn't much of an apartment really. There was only a simple mattress on the floor. The tiny kitchen had one bowl, one knife, and one cup. The fridge had one case of oil. Instead of a television, there were black and white pictures and one phone hooked to the wall. Instead of furniture, one hundred page and up text books were piled around, all of them closed and neatly stacked. Hudson quickly discarded the notion of being a bit OCD, and instead replaced the excuse with just being appreciative of what he worked for. And what he worked for wasn't much, but it was what he needed.
This was his life. It was what he willingly chose.
Tossing his bag against the wall, he crumpled in front of his books from the weight of the day. Mindlessly, his eyes scanned the library of books he had accumulated...
The shrill tone of the telephone ringing caused him to jump. Shaken, he fumbled to the phone and picked it up.
"Hudson?"
"Mama?"
"Hello Hudson! Oh I have missed you so much!"
The Hornet's grill formed a smile. His mother's voice was sweet and soothing.. A stark contrast to anyone he knew here. "I've missed you too, Ma."
"So, how's school?"
He paused a moment, eliminating the options of how he could answer that. "It's alright." A neutral answer. Didn't make it a lie, nor would it get her worried.
"Good. Meet any women folk yet?"
His eyes glazed into a dull stare. The familiar pain of a scarred heart rippled uncomfortably. "No, Ma," he answered flatly.
"Oh... Well you'll find her when the time is right."
He immediately shot down that hope before it took root.
"So what else has been goin on?"
Carefully, Hudson flipped through his options. Not much other than bad grades, boring lectures, and lonely nights. But he refused to worry his mother while he could help it. "It's been rainin a lot lately. Had flash flood warnins all over town yesterday."
"Really?! We need the rain here. It's dry as a bone in the Sahara. Your brother has worked his bumper off to save his crop, but the sun's not been good to 'em. It'll be a hard month to pay the bills, what with yer sister-in-law expectin' and needin' to visit the doc more."
"How's it feel to be an expectin' grandma?" He smiled at the joy of such a question.
"Oh, Wonderful just wonderful! I'm sewin like crazy! Me and Ally have been makin' the blankets, and we'll have enough till he's borned all growed up by the time we stop!"
His mother's laughter made him quietly exhale.
"She's gettin so big, I think she'll give birth before we expected! Just wait till we have our own personal doctor in the family, you'll be such a help!"
He chose to take that as it was and not use it to fuel more stress. "I'm in the process of becomin that for ya."
"I talked to your uncle yesterday, and we both agreed that med school is rough. Especially with this economy."
A growl rumbled from inside his tank. He closed his eyes against it and prayed it wasn't loud enough to hear. His mind wandered to the single case of oil he had left... Which was supposed to last him till next week. He'd have to ration it into smaller portions to last this week. "Yup. It's hard to get enough to eat even."
"Oh Hudson, you better be eating right. That picture ya sent last Christmas, you were thinner and paler. Don't you dare starve yourself. I know how ya are when yer stressed."
His eyes rolled to the back of his hood. "Yes, Mama, I'm a grown car, I can handle myself." She knew him too well.
"I know... But since the accident, you've been..."
Her silence made his tank lurch. 'Worthless. Pathetic. A loser. Failure.' All kinds of words fit the end of her sentence.
"Different. Y-You don't sleep as much. Yer.. Not as confident..."
Hudson sighed. Yes it hurt, but he knew his mother needed to get it out to him. It helped her feel she was doing her job. "Mama, I'm fine. I promise."
"... Okay, sweety. Listen, your dad says he's proud of you.."
His jaw clenched slightly. "Proud" meant he was doing okay for the present time. But he better not mess up. Disappointment was brought on as easily as flipping a light switch... The big fat C from his test earlier flashed into his memory...
"Mama, I was just about to eat. And I'm really tired, it's been a long day."
Instantly she was worried. "Hudson, you get a good meal and then get to bed, ya hear?"
His heart dropped as he heard the concern lacing her voice. He had tried NOT to worry her. Another thing he failed in...
"Okay, Mama."
"I love you so much, Hudson..."
"I love you too, Ma.."
She paused a moment. "Don't give up. No matter how hard it gets. Everything is for a purpose."
His eyes slightly widened as he was humbled. It was as if she knew what was going on behind the mask he wore. Maybe mothers did know more than they let on.
"Thanks, Mama. Tell the family I send my love."
"I will. Goodbye, hon."
"Bye, Ma."
Robotically he hung up. His mind swirled as the tears never came. He had forced himself not to cry. He had literally trained himself to bite back such an emotion. So instead of release, the stress only doubled.
Obeying his mother's orders, he moseyed over to the fridge. But the sight of the oil caused him to feel funny... A little woozy, and dizzy... The room began to tilt, and he braced himself against the wall. Having no relief, he quickly made his way to the tiny bathroom just as the acidic taste of bile shot up his esophagus into his mouth...
Half an hour later he shivered under the quilt his mother had made him. He ripped out his new assignments onto the floor and grabbed a pencil. With each question he answered, he felt worse... He had begun shaking, his frame chilled and clammy. None of the questions made sense, as did none of his answers. He couldn't recall anything he had learned before, heck he couldn't remember what all he did that very day. His life was so routine and so filled with stress, it was becoming unbearable. Sweat trickled down his hood and stung his eyes, briefly blinding him and wasting a few precious seconds he could have been writing another answer. Time had become a constant game. There was never enough of it, so every single thing he did had a slot, a certain frame to get it done. Anything that penetrated or prolonged that was a waste of time. It was becoming so much like this that breakfast and sleep were no longer a necessity.
"Hypocrite!" Hudson cursed himself. This excited more frustration and a faster moving of the pen. "Becoming a doctor, and you're destroying your own health."
A honk from outside made him look up. The picture of his wreck in the newspaper highlighted the wall. He gritted his teeth with self-hatred and kept on writing. "You deserve it."
The seconds passed, and more assignment pages were filled. Chapters were read, and coffee was drank. The words of his mother telling him to sleep came to mind, but he pushed them out. He had more important things to do. Midnight struck the bell in town, it's deep, rich tones ringing for all to hear. Hudson sighed heavily. He hadn't gotten as much work as he wanted to in the time he had!
He still had to read the gruesome 5 chapters in GRAY'S ANATOMY.
He snarled at the heavy book.
Ripping into its content, his will hit a brick wall as sleep stopped all function. He hopped around and drove in circles, yelled out the alphabet, splashed cold water on his face, stabbed himself with the pen, and screamed in anger. He. Was. NOT. Going. To. Fall. Asleep. He had TOO much to do and he wasn't going to fail in this also! He would have this homework done!
The enemy was dragging his eyelids down...
He forced them open, mentally and physically turning himself to look at that newspaper. That picture of him. The past. The fuel for anger, frustration, the reminder of just how worthless he was, why he deserved to go through this torture, why he was even there. The scene of that wreck came crashing down on his memory. The screams and the smoke filled his senses as he transported back. The morbid, gory sight of his injuries. The trickling loss of fan support. The pride and fame crushed under critics. His famous title, the Fabulous Hudson Hornet, being tread dirt on and spat news of his sponsors quitting on him. The disappointment in his parents eyes. Losing his beloved crew chief. The lack of care of his so called friends. The wrestling match he had with suicide. The choice to go to one of the hardest schools and try to make everyone happy.
But instead of bursting into a fit of rage, having his adrenaline pumping and those 5 chapters read...
He wept.
And finally, a wave of pure exhaustion washed over him.
...
His eyes rolled over to the alarm clock. 5:37 am. Pushing GRAY'S ANATOMY out of the way, he got up to the bathroom. That was yesterday, and a whole slew of troubles awaited him that day. He sighed. The small mirror caught his reflection on the way out. Slowly, out of curiosity, he edged back to look...
His dark green frame was dull and pale. Slight bags hung under his eyes. Those eyes... Those dark eyes... Were dull. And lost. ... His knew his name. Hudson. He was once the Fabulous Hudson Hornet, the one everyone loved and admired and counted on...
Now, no one depended on him to do anything. And he didn't know who he was.
His mind then meandered with a twisted thought into a familiar darkness...
He felt himself driving into the kitchen, taking the single knife he had...
"I'm sorry, mama... I'm sorry, dad... I'm sorry dear family, I'm sorry everyone..."
He knew the scars he had from previous attempts. Those tryouts that he chickened out of and just bandaged himself of after. Those purposes to rid the world of a useless being failed...
Because that's what he was. A failure.
He readied the knife, and looked out the kitchen window. He wanted to die with the sunrise in mind... peacefully...
The sun was just beginning to rise. It had begun to pour buckets of shimmering yellow over the city. The glass of the skyscrapers glistened with rays of fire. The single tree in the yard seemed to shake with joy as it's branches reached up and caught the light. A nest of birds were chirping loudly.
The mother bird called out a glorious note. Instantly, two baby birds popped up and spread their wings. She hovered in mid air as she waited for them to try it out. Cautiously, they stepped out of the nest and fell... Only to catch the wind with their wings and flap upward... Then they all flew off...
Hudson's mind was cleared. He was numb. He was ready.
Then.. One baby bird poked its head out from the nest. The surprised made Hudson pause. The tiny bird called out into the morning air, shrieking for its mother. He waited a few moments to see if she'd come rescue her forgotten offspring... But she never came. Instead, the brave little one stood on the edge of the nest and balanced himself with his wings outspread. He appeared a bit confused as he tested them..
Hudson snapped himself back to focus what he was doing. He had to get this over with. He would NOT fail again!
Then the little bird hopped off the nest... and fell..
Hudson watched a moment, despite himself...
It never flew back up.
The knife met the floor with a clang, and the icy wind blew through the opened door, ripping through the apartment and opening books, making the pages fly. Hudson braced the winter cold and found the baby bird. Its feathers ruffled and parted as the wind sliced through its little body. It was blown against the tree's trunk at the ground, whimpering. Hudson gingerly picked it up and carried it inside.
For weeks he watched the baby bird. Observing it's behavior, it's way of living. The fowl took quite a fancy to him after a few days. Hudson found himself in the yard digging for worms before school started. Unwilling to admit it, he enjoyed it. It wasn't considered a waste of time. The bird needed to eat.
He never bothered to name it. He had too much reading and homework to do than consider what to refer a certain bird perched on his fender as. School didn't get much better, but he kept trudging along, praying that it would all click one day. His focus started to grow sharper. He slept a little better at night.
But one day, as the bird pecked the window panes, he decided that the time had come. He knew it was inevitable, but he chose to wait till the next dawn to do it.
As the sun rose, he went outside, the bird perched on his fender. Instantly, it flew off. He blinked a couple of times in surprise, then settled back to watch. The sadness of being lonely began to fill the holes in his heart...
How he wished he could just fly off. Leave everything behind, and go do whatever he wanted. Drop the brutal training to become a doctor, and go live the life he wanted to live.
But a tug in his heart reminded him of something.
It was HIS choice. He WANTED to be a doctor. A helper of all. Somebody worth mentioning. A somebody.
Spreading his wings and flying off meant two things. One, drop everything and leave for the unknown. Or two, getting a firmer grip on his studies and becoming what he wanted to be, a Help to people.
His lowered eyes caught the dull green color of his fenders. Green. It's what other cars said they liked him in. Scuffing a stone from a fresh pile of dirt used to fill one of the holes he made for worms, he considered his own favorite color. Cobalt blue. Slowly, he lifted himself off the ground and drove inside, quietly shutting the door behind him.
Seven years later, he was commonly known as Doc.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
heh heh, Just kickin' up some dust on that one. Experimenting is so much fun!
Thank you, qhr ;)
Please review. Please? You know you want to. xD