Hello all! This is my first Fanfic, so tell me how I did, I'm sorta new to all this. Anyways, reviews, including flames, are welcome. If you flame me I might respond back to you, so be warned. Sorry to all those who read this before I'd decided, but I've decided now, to go with what I originally planned, and keep it at a One-shot. It doesn't really work with any sort of plotline that I can think of right now, so yeah.
Anyways, I wanna thank DiexGaaf, Ghostwriter … for being my very first reviewers! Thanks for the support! And sorry I sort of led you on into thinking there would be another chapter!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to Four Brothers, but I do own the plot, and any OC I decide to add in the mix.
Seeing Ghosts
A Bobby Mercer Tale
Bobby Mercer looked through the kitchen window, watching the softly falling snow as it drifted to the ground, aided by frigid winds; chocolate brown eyes gazed off into a scene visible only to his own mind, a long dead reminder of pain. Day after day he found himself in this exact place, viewing the same faded and torn memories, experiencing the same faint traces of melancholy emotion, day after day; it had become, for him, an integral part of his daily routine. Each time he looked through that window, he replayed the same memories in the same order every time, as if time itself froze each time that particular window came into view, as if his mind was stuck in a rut, repeating the very worst moments of his life for his silent torture, as if his entire life had been put on hold that day, as if someone had pushed the metaphorical pause button and could no longer find the remote to play it again.
He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face as he turned away, dashing any hopes that his eyes might have built of crying in that moment; Mercers didn't cry, ever. Living in his dead mother's home, gazing daily at the place of his kid brother's murder, it had become too much for him, too heavy a burden of sorrow and guilt for him to hold up, to bear the weight of on his own. He needed a break, a breather away from everything that surrounded him here like a warm blanket wrapped too tightly around him in the summer time, suffocating him. He was tired of merely surviving through his remaining days on this earth, tired of merely existing in the eyes of the world. He wanted to live, but he had nothing, no one to live for any longer, nothing to center his mind on, now that the revenge he'd invoked for the murders of his mother and little brother had been carried out. What else was left for him but to fade away into his own memories? He was losing himself here, who he really was, was fading away like the dated wallpaper that covered the walls of his childhood home. He was nothing more than a shell of the proud, confident, tough as nails man that he used to be, he wasn't Bobby Mercer anymore; Bobby Mercer, no longer existed.