iNeed This
A wine bottle lay tipped over on the edge of the coffee table, and Marissa Benson watched as the violet liquid splattered against the floor. Her eyes blurred and refocused every few moments, the alcohol coursing through her system. She lay silently on the couch. Normally, she would never let such a clumsy thing occur. However, the bottle was her muse, sensual and calling to her to take even the faintest of sips. In the end, it seemed as if all the slender container held was a poison for her typically level headed mind, stripping her of her inhibitions and dousing her fears. Surely the wine would stain the newly installed hardwood floors and she knew this all too well. With each glass she had hastily downed, her normal self receded and a glimpse of the suppressed Marissa shone through the haze. With every glass, she cared less about such petty things as material possessions, and likewise, the pain that gripped her so deeply seemed to transform into a grain of affliction.
She was hopeful of the inherent effect, though she knew this was a tragedy that cut too deep, the blade too adamant and fierce. Her face displayed no emotion, frozen by the unbearable reality she now had to withstand. A tear pushed out and dripped down her cheek, still stone and unphased. How could she possibly comprehend the finality and true, indescribable horror of what had transpired only days before? None of her attempts to bury the truth managed to work, none of the masks she wore could usher out the sorrow that had made her heart a desolate wasteland. What was a devoted mother to do without a son to give all of her love to?
Freddie, Carly, and Sam. They were all taken from this world in an instant.
They were heading out of state for a summer road trip of sorts. Marissa was vehemently against her Fredward going so far away, not to mention driving all that way. Having just turned 18, he played the "adulthood" card and said that his mother need to stop babying him. She could've sworn it was Sam and Carly that drove him to be so rebellious, though she knew her son was becoming a strong, independent young man. He was very much like his father. She would've argued more, but there was a glimmer of James Benson in her son's eye...adventurous and reckless. He was a caged bird that so desired to be set free. With reluctance, she did. He kissed her goodbye and told her he'd call her when they reached their first stop. For the first time in years, he looked at her and told her he loved her.
It had only been a couple of hours into the drive when it happened. She didn't know the exact details, but they were coasting in an 18-wheeler's blind spot, something Marissa had consciously avoided and always mentioned to Freddie not to do. Maybe Sam was teasing him or Carly was distracting him in some way, who knows? The truck veered to the left quickly, the front half jerking into Freddie's lane in order to avoid a car slamming on its breaks in front of it. The serpent of the highway slithered its head, and soon the body followed. The force alone shoved Freddie's car over the guard rail and into a ravine next to the highway. He had no time to react. He had no time to slow down or move out of the way. If he hadn't stayed there, he could've maneuvered out of the way, but as it was...
They flipped and slammed into the ravine, metal crunching and creating a tomb for the teenagers. The gruesome details Marissa purposely chose not to listen to, or perhaps she was deaf to the world by that point.
She shuddered at the thought of what horrible way each of them suffered, or how frightened they must've been. Marissa felt acid bubbling up in her throat, but it soon subsided. Her nauseousness came and went, and at times it seemed like it would never stop. The sickness was the least of her worries. Her boy was dead, and she had let him go.
She forced her eyes shut, and eventually drifted off to sleep. With the coming of dreams, she hoped they would wisk her away to a land without worry or care for at least a short time. She prayed as sincerely as she could for the promise of dreams to not be an empty one.
Spencer's head was pounding. He could hear the ghostly whispers of the iCarly trio haunting the apartment. For days, all he could hear or see were their faces and past memories of love and laughter shared in his home. He shook his head, hoping to expel the demons of memory from his mind, though it appeared to him to be a fruitless endeavor. It had been days and yet he had shown no signs of progress.
Everyone had reassured him that they were there for him and that they understood. The trouble with that being, of course, that none of them had ever really lost anyone that they truly cared about. It wasn't just anyone for Spencer. It was Freddie and Sam, two people he considered to be very dear friends of his, and his little sister Carly...probably the best friend in his life, and one that he loved more than anyone else could possibly fathom. She was everything to him; she wasn't just a sister, but almost like a daughter as well. With her passing, it was as if he lost his sense of purpose. His artwork felt meaningless, his humor was asinine, and every smile was a betrayal. For feeling an ounce of happiness in these casted shadows meant he simply didn't care at all. So, he didn't. He couldn't. He was lost and without anyone to go to.
Spencer stepped out of the apartment for a moment, needing a breath of fresh air. There was a stench of familiarity and knowing that he couldn't stomache inside, so he chose to linger on his doorstep. His eyes closed and he threw his head back, resting against the front door. After a few moments, his eyes slitted open weakly and looked across the hall. For some unknown reason, it hadn't struck him to check on Mrs. Benson. It also hadn't occurred to him that if anyone understands his situation, it would be her. They had both lost their loved ones.
He pushed off of the door and made one large step to close the gap between his apartment and hers. His knocks were tentative, worried she might be sleeping.
After a few moments of waiting on her doorstep, he felt it necessary to turn back, only to hear the multiple locks click and the door squeaked open slowly. He spun around, to see Mrs. Benson standing there (barely). Her eyes were puffy and red, bloodshot and stung by the salt of her tears. At this sight, Spencer used all of his willpower to not breakdown in front of her. Alone he could compose himself, but as soon as he was around others, it was if they tore down his barriers with a look. He was a fortress, but if a visitor laid eyes upon him, and he crumbled within as would a house of cards.
"Yes, Spencer?", she rasped. She cleared her throat, though the attempt did nothing to improve her vocal issue.
"Hi, Mrs. Benson. I...could I come in?" Spencer bit his lip to hold back his emotions.
She nodded and stood aside for him to enter her home. He did so with a briskness he wasn't aware he had. The door shut behind him with a small click.
"I'm sorry for the mess..." she said weakly. The room was cluttered at best, but certainly not messy. Spencer was intimately aware how messy one's apartment could be.
"It's okay." He wasn't sure what to say. "I've seen worse", he added lamely, shrugging. He wasn't sure why he had said it.
"Please. Sit." She tried to muster up a smile, but it came off like one of Freddie's crooked smirks. She guided him to the couch and he absent mindedly moved the now empty wine bottle upright. She shot him a look of guilt. "Again, I'm sorry about the mess. I...had a couple of drinks. I haven't had one in years and I was saving that bottle for when Freddie graduated college..."
She trailed off and silence invaded the room. Marissa sat next to him, grasping at the wine bottle and upending it over a glass, hoping that there'd be just a bit left for her to muscle down. Spencer had the mind to protest, however he had done quite a binge of heavy drinking the night before...who was he to tell her she shouldn't?
"I came here because I figured you shouldn't be alone, Mrs. Benson..."
"Marissa, Spencer. Please call me Marissa." She protested with barely a whisper. Her eyes never met his as she spoke.
"Right. Marissa, like I was saying, I...thought you should be around people. To be honest, I knew I need to be as well, but you're the only one who understands. I couldn't turn to Socko or grandad. They're worlds away from me and didn't have the connection I did with Carly...or Sam and Freddie, even." He felt like his mentioning of Freddie was a slap to the face, thought unintentional as it was. She winced at the sound of his name.
"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to upset you."
"I know, Spencer," she began. "It isn't your fault. It isn't your fault that my Fredward is gone. I let him go when I should have stopped him. A good mother would have made him stay...All my life I've kept him safe from the dangers of the world. I've helped him eat right, exercise, study, and maintain a regular sleeping schedule. Every time he would ask to do something especially dangerous, I did everything in my power to protect him. The one time I falter with him in my entire life..." She was cut off by deep and painful sobbing. Spencer sat in shock of her twisted mindset, the ache of survivor's guilt devouring her.
Spencer grabbed her and pulled her into a warm embrace. Her arms wrapped around him suddenly, and her face pushed hard against his chest. He held her tightly, and her hands balled and clawed at his shirt, a burst of anger shooting through her. As quickly as it came, the rage of loss dissipated and she returned to overwrought sobs and breathless heaves. Spencer had intended to be her rock, but the more she unleashed her torrential fury upon his sweater, the more the rock chipped away. He broke with her. Together they sat there, more vulnerable than they had ever dared to be around one another. Even so, this was what they needed more than anything else. They didn't just want it, they needed a shoulder to cry on.
Spencer brought his head up and sniffed loudly. "Marissa, you can't blame yourself. This is no one's fault. Besides, if you're at fault, then so am I. I could've stopped Carly from going, but...I've very rarely been the type of person to say no, especially with Carly. All I wanted was her happiness. Always."
She looked up at him, their arms still around each other. She had never realized how much they had both cared for their "children". Spencer's methods may have been the opposite of hers, but there was no doubt in her mind that he loved Carly as much as she cherished Freddie. She could feel his breath on her cheek, dangerously close to the young man holding her in his arms. She inched closer to him. Her eyes glazed over, and he audibly gasped as she suddenly lunged for him. Her lips crashed against his. She kissed him feverishly and he was paralyzed with shock. She pulled away quickly, covering her mouth with her hand in shame.
"Oh, my goodness...I'm so sorry, Spencer. I don't know what came over me..."
"No, no, it's...it's all right, Mrs. Be...Marissa. I-I-I...I understand." He barely stuttered out. The kiss was soft and moist, filled with desire and desperation. The intensity of it had taken him aback. Who knew Mrs. Benson held such a fire inside of her?
"It isn't all right." She said suddenly, breaking the short stint of silence once more. She reached for him again and this time, the kiss was reciprocated. He leaned back against the couch and she fell on top of him. She ran her fingers through his hair roughly and he grasped at her hips. All the longing to be touched and to be loved spilled out of both of them, two shells of sorrow opening up to embrace and comfort the other. Her tongue slid into his open mouth and massaged his, the enthusiasm overwhelming his senses. He pulled back from her abruptly to look into her eyes. For the first time since he had seen her in the days that had followed the tragedy, she had a light in her eyes, however faint it might've been.
"Marissa..." He went to speak, but she planted a short kiss on his lips to silence him.
"It doesn't matter. Whatever it is that you're worried about...I need you. I need this."
He nodded at her, and initiated the next intimate encounter. There were no more words.