Angel Boy (1/?)
A 7th Heaven Fan Fic by CeruleanOctober (formerly Lucky Star)
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowed. Don't sue, just read.
A/N: I hate that I have to start with an apology, but to all my readers, I must say I am sorry for leaving my fics hanging several months ago. Hopefully you'll give me another chance, and I won't disappoint…
Okay. Now to the story. I have decided to go back to the beginning with a couple of the fics. I felt I had backed myself into a corner with Angel Boy, so I'm giving it a fresh start..
Angel Boy
Chapter 1/?
I wake up to a house shrouded in total silence. And I want to savor the moment, so I slip out from under the covers, and wander through the house, enjoying the uncommon quiet. No one is home. Dad's in meetings all day, Mom took the twins to visit Mrs. Bink. Lucy took Ruthie to the mall. All of them are meeting for dinner later.
I find myself in Mom and Dad's room, and I know I shouldn't snoop around, but I can't help myself. There's a moldy, musty smell in the air, and I want to know what it's from. There's a box on the floor by Mom's side of the bed. It's battered, the corners smashed down.
I move closer, slowly, as if I'm afraid something will jump out and bite me. Maybe I am, but. this is it, the box is the source of the musty smell. It's probably been in the attic for years.
I open the top, even more cautiously. It's just photo albums and a lock box. I try to box first. Of course it is locked. Maybe that's why it's called a lock box.
The first book I pull out of the box is a scrap book. The cover shows a picture of a very pregnant Mom. I open it, an read the date. 1985. The year she was pregnant with me. I turn back to the front picture and stare at the roundness of her belly. I'm not sure I've ever seen a picture of her pregnant with me.
I opened the book again, turned the page. She started documenting her feelings the day she found out she was pregnant. I would be the fourth child, with a brother and two sisters leading the way. Mom wrote about wanting the baby to be a boy, but also said she didn't really care as long as it was healthy.
In August, she wrote about two heart beats. Two babies. Twins. I double checked the date, even though I knew it said 1985, and she was writing about being pregnant with me, not Sam and David.
I feel dizzy. Light headed. Weak. Unbalanced. Uncentered. Even the air has a surreal quality. Thicker. Heavier.
I take a deep breath. I'll keep reading because there has to be an explanation. The doctor must have been wrong.
Mom wrote about having twins almost every day, along with notes about the other kids, and how she felt too heavy and fat and bloated to do play with them. She wrote about Matt's struggles at school, Mary's kindergarten scuffles, Lucy's moping all day because Matt and Mary were in school.
I force myself to read every word. I don't want to miss a thing. And sooner or later, the doctor will have to tell her he was wrong about the two heart beats.
But August turned to September, then October, and November…and still she wrote about having twins. She was already fatter than she had been with Matt or Mary or Lucy. She'd gained more weight, felt more nauseous and miserable.
Several times I caught myself closing my eyes. The book slid out of my lap. How could this be? I had a twin? How? What happened to him?
"I died," a voice says. I jump, and turn to look over my shoulder. Nothing. I shake my head, to clear it. The voice was in my head. I know it was. I've heard it before. Many times.
I can't stand it anymore. I flip the pages to February. I have to know what happened.
iFebruary 8, 1986
It's time. I've been through it before. I know the signs. I'll go to the hospital tomorrow, or maybe in the middle of the night. The Colonel and Ruth are here to stay with Matt and the girls.
Eric is asleep. Snoring. I wish I could be that relaxed. I haven't slept well for seven months. I've barely slept at all the last few weeks. I'm too fat. But it will all be worth it when I hold my beautiful babies in my arms.
/i
The next entry is dated February 26, three weeks later. I was born on the ninth.
iI have just fed Simon for the first time from my breast. I'd forgotten how much it hurts. His grip brought tears to my eyes and I nearly couldn't take it. But I would suffer any pain for him.
Dr. Harris said he may have to go back on the feeding tube. I told him I don't think that will be necessary. He had a little trouble figuring out what to do, but it didn't take long…He's strong and he's going to be fine. He has to be fine.
He's so small. Barely four pounds now. Dr. Harris says that's great. He's gained more than a pound already.
Joshua lived just seventeen minutes. Seventeen beautiful, agonizing minutes. We knew he was dying, and there was no point in putting him on machines. The nurses took Simon away, because Simon had a chance, but he needed intensive care. Joshua might live an hour, two hours, maybe a day o a week on the ventilator. But to what end?
The decision had been the hardest choice I ever had to make.
I held him in my arms, with Eric's arms around both of us. Crying, kissing him, whispering to him, telling him in seventeen minutes how much we loved him, promising him we would take care of his brother.
I couldn't even hold Simon before they put him in the incubator. Holding him today…There is nothing in the world that can compare. Not even holding the others when they were first born. We nearly lost Matt, but he was born healthy and strong. Both girls were healthy and beautiful.
Simon will be okay. He's off the feeding tube, and he should be out of intensive care by the end of the week. So far so good.
Welcome to the world, Simon Joshua Camden. My Angel Boy./i
My hands are trembling. I feel sick. I don't even think I can stand up. My knees are shaking. I have to hold on to something, anything, to keep from falling down.
Seventeen minutes. I had a twin brother for seventeen minutes.
"I've always been here, you know." It's that voice again. The one in my head. My brother's voice. And he's here, standing near the bathroom door. But it's not real. It can't be real. He's not real. But I see him. I see him standing there. He looks just like me. He's wearing my jeans, a T-shirt, a plaid button down open in the front.
"You're not real!" I yell. My voice sounds weird. Strained. I push my hands against my eyes. And he's gone. He's gone because he was never there.
I barely make it to the toilet before the bile rises in my throat.
*~*~*~*
End chapter one. Please read and review. It means so much…
A 7th Heaven Fan Fic by CeruleanOctober (formerly Lucky Star)
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowed. Don't sue, just read.
A/N: I hate that I have to start with an apology, but to all my readers, I must say I am sorry for leaving my fics hanging several months ago. Hopefully you'll give me another chance, and I won't disappoint…
Okay. Now to the story. I have decided to go back to the beginning with a couple of the fics. I felt I had backed myself into a corner with Angel Boy, so I'm giving it a fresh start..
Angel Boy
Chapter 1/?
I wake up to a house shrouded in total silence. And I want to savor the moment, so I slip out from under the covers, and wander through the house, enjoying the uncommon quiet. No one is home. Dad's in meetings all day, Mom took the twins to visit Mrs. Bink. Lucy took Ruthie to the mall. All of them are meeting for dinner later.
I find myself in Mom and Dad's room, and I know I shouldn't snoop around, but I can't help myself. There's a moldy, musty smell in the air, and I want to know what it's from. There's a box on the floor by Mom's side of the bed. It's battered, the corners smashed down.
I move closer, slowly, as if I'm afraid something will jump out and bite me. Maybe I am, but. this is it, the box is the source of the musty smell. It's probably been in the attic for years.
I open the top, even more cautiously. It's just photo albums and a lock box. I try to box first. Of course it is locked. Maybe that's why it's called a lock box.
The first book I pull out of the box is a scrap book. The cover shows a picture of a very pregnant Mom. I open it, an read the date. 1985. The year she was pregnant with me. I turn back to the front picture and stare at the roundness of her belly. I'm not sure I've ever seen a picture of her pregnant with me.
I opened the book again, turned the page. She started documenting her feelings the day she found out she was pregnant. I would be the fourth child, with a brother and two sisters leading the way. Mom wrote about wanting the baby to be a boy, but also said she didn't really care as long as it was healthy.
In August, she wrote about two heart beats. Two babies. Twins. I double checked the date, even though I knew it said 1985, and she was writing about being pregnant with me, not Sam and David.
I feel dizzy. Light headed. Weak. Unbalanced. Uncentered. Even the air has a surreal quality. Thicker. Heavier.
I take a deep breath. I'll keep reading because there has to be an explanation. The doctor must have been wrong.
Mom wrote about having twins almost every day, along with notes about the other kids, and how she felt too heavy and fat and bloated to do play with them. She wrote about Matt's struggles at school, Mary's kindergarten scuffles, Lucy's moping all day because Matt and Mary were in school.
I force myself to read every word. I don't want to miss a thing. And sooner or later, the doctor will have to tell her he was wrong about the two heart beats.
But August turned to September, then October, and November…and still she wrote about having twins. She was already fatter than she had been with Matt or Mary or Lucy. She'd gained more weight, felt more nauseous and miserable.
Several times I caught myself closing my eyes. The book slid out of my lap. How could this be? I had a twin? How? What happened to him?
"I died," a voice says. I jump, and turn to look over my shoulder. Nothing. I shake my head, to clear it. The voice was in my head. I know it was. I've heard it before. Many times.
I can't stand it anymore. I flip the pages to February. I have to know what happened.
iFebruary 8, 1986
It's time. I've been through it before. I know the signs. I'll go to the hospital tomorrow, or maybe in the middle of the night. The Colonel and Ruth are here to stay with Matt and the girls.
Eric is asleep. Snoring. I wish I could be that relaxed. I haven't slept well for seven months. I've barely slept at all the last few weeks. I'm too fat. But it will all be worth it when I hold my beautiful babies in my arms.
/i
The next entry is dated February 26, three weeks later. I was born on the ninth.
iI have just fed Simon for the first time from my breast. I'd forgotten how much it hurts. His grip brought tears to my eyes and I nearly couldn't take it. But I would suffer any pain for him.
Dr. Harris said he may have to go back on the feeding tube. I told him I don't think that will be necessary. He had a little trouble figuring out what to do, but it didn't take long…He's strong and he's going to be fine. He has to be fine.
He's so small. Barely four pounds now. Dr. Harris says that's great. He's gained more than a pound already.
Joshua lived just seventeen minutes. Seventeen beautiful, agonizing minutes. We knew he was dying, and there was no point in putting him on machines. The nurses took Simon away, because Simon had a chance, but he needed intensive care. Joshua might live an hour, two hours, maybe a day o a week on the ventilator. But to what end?
The decision had been the hardest choice I ever had to make.
I held him in my arms, with Eric's arms around both of us. Crying, kissing him, whispering to him, telling him in seventeen minutes how much we loved him, promising him we would take care of his brother.
I couldn't even hold Simon before they put him in the incubator. Holding him today…There is nothing in the world that can compare. Not even holding the others when they were first born. We nearly lost Matt, but he was born healthy and strong. Both girls were healthy and beautiful.
Simon will be okay. He's off the feeding tube, and he should be out of intensive care by the end of the week. So far so good.
Welcome to the world, Simon Joshua Camden. My Angel Boy./i
My hands are trembling. I feel sick. I don't even think I can stand up. My knees are shaking. I have to hold on to something, anything, to keep from falling down.
Seventeen minutes. I had a twin brother for seventeen minutes.
"I've always been here, you know." It's that voice again. The one in my head. My brother's voice. And he's here, standing near the bathroom door. But it's not real. It can't be real. He's not real. But I see him. I see him standing there. He looks just like me. He's wearing my jeans, a T-shirt, a plaid button down open in the front.
"You're not real!" I yell. My voice sounds weird. Strained. I push my hands against my eyes. And he's gone. He's gone because he was never there.
I barely make it to the toilet before the bile rises in my throat.
*~*~*~*
End chapter one. Please read and review. It means so much…