Title: Invincible
Rating: T; for minor language & drinking
Word Count: 3,578
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the song that this was based off of.
- - - -
Rain is pouring down from the gray clouds above.
The sky is crying. As it should be on a day as miserable as this.
I, for one, think I might suffocate. I could blame my minor sense of claustrophobia for the tightness in my chest as the people closed in around me. But I would be lying to myself; that wasn't it at all. Sobs and sounds of misery fill the air, filling any empty spaces around me. Closing me in, I feel like I can't breathe.
A scowl spreads slowly across on my face. I want to turn to everyone and tell them to shut the hell up because they don't know what they are crying for. They can't possibly mourn someone who they didn't know like I did. If anything, they should be mourning for me and for what I have lost.
It's a selfish thought. But it's all my heart will allow me to think. My cruelly selfish heart with an emptiness in it that couldn't be filled with all the mourners' tears.
I try to move away from the mass of black-clad crying people. Friends, families, mere acquaintances. The tightness is growing in my chest, constricting my lungs, pushing my heart from both sides. The scene is spinning. The coffin, the flowers, the rain; it all becomes a blur as the realization hits me with a force to weaken my knees.
He's gone.
- - - -
I was sorely tempted to just ignore the shrill ringing of the house phone. I just knew it was Sharpay or Chad, calling to check up on me and ask me how I was. Or worse, it would be him, again, with his velvety voice slightly higher from the alcohol and the whining as he begged me to come join him. But I was selfish and stubborn. Going to that party meant another evening of girls getting all seductive with him left and right. And him drinking it all up, forgetting I'm even there.
Excuse me for not wanting to partake in such an evening of fun.
The phone continued to ring. If I wasn't home alone, I would have screamed for someone to answer the damn thing. But I was so I ended up giving in. Besides, if it was one of those three, I could always hang up.
But it wasn't. Instead I was met with gasping sobs.
"Gabriella…" Mrs. Bolton's voice was strained as it came through the receiver, the rest of the sentence dissolving in tears. My stomach clenched.
"Mrs. Bolton…" I responded slowly. I pressed the phone harder into my ear as she continued to try and talk, only to have her voice overtaken by stutters and sobs. Whatever she had to tell couldn't be good. Just the way she had said my name; I could feel my dinner climbing its way up my throat. "M-Mrs. B-Bolton?" I silently cursed the shakiness in my voice.
More sobs. And with each sob, I felt like someone was stabbing my lungs.
"Oh, Gabbi!" Mrs. Bolton's wail was unbearable. My fingers turned white as I tightened my hold on the phone, afraid that if I dropped it, I would never know. "Gabbi…oh sweetheart…there's been a…terrible accident…" The rest of the sentence was drowned out in a scream.
My scream.
I didn't need to hear whatever else she had to say. I was a smart girl; I could put the pieces of the puzzle together. My knees slammed to the floor as my body collapsed, the phone falling from my limp grasp. The thunk it made as it made contact with the floor was deafening in my world that seemed to have gone mute. The pounding of the blood in my ears was drowning everything else out as my eyes watched the phone come to a halt halfway across the kitchen.
I opened my mouth to scream, to sob, to do something.
But nothing came out.
- - - -
My parents found me curled up against one of the barstools. When Mrs. Bolton could no longer get me to answer her, she had called my parents and explained the situation. Upon receiving the news and hearing Mrs. Bolton detail my reaction, they had rushed home from whatever function they were at that night to find me in my numb state. Somehow they had managed to get me into the car where they drove quickly to Albuquerque Hospital, my mom glancing back at me every few seconds with worry etched in every line of her face.
Tears were spilling from my eyes but no sound escaped my lips.
My mind was racing. An accident. A terrible accident. A terrible accident involving him.
It couldn't be. Life just didn't happen that way.
Did it?
Upon pulling into the parking lot, the world started to become clearer again. As we walked towards the sliding doors, my mother's soothing voice reached my ears faintly.
But it was entering the hospital that reality slammed back into me full force. It was like I was suddenly realizing where I was. And, more importantly, what I was doing there.
Skidding into the lobby, I ignored my parents calling for me, instead spinning wildly around, looking for some sign that would take me to him.
"Gabriella!" I spun around to find Mrs. Bolton rushing up to me. Before I could open my mouth to speak, I was engulfed in a teary hug, one that I immediately melted into.
"Where is he?" My voice was barely audible but she knew what I wanted without me having to ask anyways.
Wordlessly, she beckoned for me to follow. I felt someone squeeze my hand and turned to see that my parents had caught up. We followed Mrs. Bolton to the elevator and we were engulfed in silence as the doors slid shut. I found my mind wandering again and my hands fidgeting as we waited for what felt like an eternity. I saw Mrs. Bolton's mouth moving but it was like trying to listen to someone talk underwater; it came to my ears all garbled and I just couldn't understand. When the doors finally slid open, I was a mess.
"Where? Where?" I cried hysterically, tripping over my own feet as I exited the elevator. Before I could crash to a floor, I felt a pair of arms catch me before pulling me into a strong hug. "Gabs, you've got to calm down" Chad said, obviously trying to calm and comfort me. However, it only made me even more anxious.
"Let go, Chad!" I tried to wrestle out of his arms but he only held on tighter.
"Gabs, he's not stable right now. The doctors are working. You can't see him right now."
I shoved at his chest, my body shaking as the inevitable wave of sobs took over. "How dare you? Don't you understand? Don't any of you understand? I have to see him! I need to see him right now!" My voice's pitch was raised at least an octave, my eyes wide.
I heard other voices and looked around to see the rest of the Boltons along with Sharpay, Taylor, Zeke, Kelsi, and Ryan approaching me and Chad swiftly. Seeing all of them together with those looks on their faces made my heart clench painfully.
Moments later, when Chad was assured that I was calm, he released me but stayed close just in case I decided to bolt into the hospital room.
I was still shaking all over so Sharpay gently helped me into one of the plastic waiting chairs. Balling up my hands into fists in hopes of stopping the shaking, I looked up as my friends surrounded me.
"What happened?"
They all looked away, faces full of pain at the thought of having to recount the series of events.
I felt my voice begin to rise again. "Damn it, someone had better tell me or I swear I'll—"
"He did what he does at every party, Gabriella," Chad cut in, locking eyes with me.
I stood up and moved away from them, my hands wringing themselves with anxiety. That was all I needed to hear. Because I already knew what happened.
He was drunk. He always drank at parties. Ever since his first party in freshman year, he couldn't help but enjoy the taste of alcohol. Parties were the places where it was usually available, and, being the Wildcat superstar, he was at every party.
Tonight was obviously no exception.
"…was all sulky and finally decided he had it. Didn't even know he bailed until I texted him asking where he was and he texted back that he was going to your place."
My head snapped out of my thoughts and turned to Sharpay. "What did you just say?"
"I said, he was drinking a lot more than usual. We tried to stop him but he was in this mood or whatever. I was going to drive him since you weren't there but when I went to get him, he was already gone."
"Why was he drinking so much more?"
Sharpay hesitated before answering. "We asked him. He was all depressed, kept talking about how much it sucked that you weren't there..." her voice trailing off, obviously not sure how to discuss something like that in a situation like this.
But I didn't even notice this. I felt as if someone had knocked the wind out me. I collapsed right there in the middle of the hallway, everything spinning.
Me. It was all my fault.
If only I had gone to the party.
He wouldn't have drank so much.
He wouldn't have gotten behind the steering wheel.
He wouldn't be lying in there.
The self-placed blame crushed down on my shoulders and I felt like I was going to puke.
"Gabbi? Gabbi?"
- - - -
We all sat outside his room, waiting to hear any news. Anything.
His mother had cried away all her tears. So instead she resolved to sitting there in her plastic waiting chair, her face buried in her husband's shoulder while he smoothed her hair and whispered words of comfort.
We all sat there, not knowing what to do.
For three straight hours, we waited helplessly, wanting to hear something that might give us hope.
And at the end of the three hours, the news came.
Suddenly, I wished that we could've waited longer.
- - - -
The rain continues to pour steadily.
Good. They can hide the tear tracks on my face.
As I stare blankly ahead, I find myself thinking.
I had always condemned his drinking habits at the parties. "Chill Brie," he would always laugh drunkenly, "I'm a big boy. I can deal. And as long as I got you here, I don't have to worry." Then he would give me a kiss on the cheek and go help himself to another drink. And I, too high from the contact of his lips on my skin, wouldn't bother him again until the next party.
I was supposed to drive him home. I should've been there to drive him home. Why wasn't I there?
Oh yeah, because I let my own feelings get in the way.
I grasp my head in frustration, wanting to scream. The priest is talking but I can't bear to listen. I need to get away. This wasn't supposed to happen. I should've been there.
- - - -
"He was going well over the speed limit. At least twenty to twenty five miles over. When he came to the Maple and Workshire intersection, he turned to sharp. To avoid hitting the oncoming cars, he jerked the steering wheel to the right to hard. The car drifted across the other lane, jumped the curb, and rammed the tree."
Without thinking, I shrieked and clapped my hands over my ears, my nails digging in. I didn't want to hear this. I couldn't hear this. My shriek melted into loud sobs, my body rocking back and forth. Everyone around me was trying to talk to me, trying to get me to listen, trying to coax me to calm down. But I wouldn't have any of it.
Finally, Sharpay reached up and grabbed my hands, dragging them away from my ears and pinning them to my sides. I struggled for a moment until I realized that they had all stopped talking. Good, I didn't want to hear them talking anyhow. But I noticed they all seemed tense. With their heads cocked towards the door, they were listening.
Silence engulfed our group.
And then it was broken with the worst sound I had ever heard in my life
I found myself wishing for everyone to start talking again, anything to cover up that awful sound. But they were rendered speechless.
Beeeeeeeep. No, it couldn't flat-line. He couldn't give up like that. For the second time that night, my mouth opened to scream, but nothing came out. So my hands went back to my ears, but this time, no one tried to stop me.
- - - -
I can't take it anymore.
I turn away from the grave, moving through the mourning crowd. I hear someone shout my name, telling me to come back, but I ignore the call. Pushing my way through, the tightness in my lungs is returning. I desperately needed to get as far away from the grave as possible, because the grave made it all the more real.
I don't have the strength to drive, so the car is out of the question. But that's just fine with me.
I kick my heels off, not even bothering to see where they fly or to go and retrieve them.
My panty-hose clad feet lead me further and further away from the cemetery. I'm not entirely certain where I'm going but anywhere is fine.
That is, until I find myself standing on the street corner.
I stare up at the street signs. Maple Lane and Workshire Road. I feel bile rise up in my throat. Damn them.
As if a magnet is directing my eyes, my gaze is pulled away from the signs to the tree.
I walk across the asphalt to the other side, trying not to look down at the skids marks permanently etched into the road.
The tree. There is stands with a white cross up against its bark. The cross is surrounded by flowers from well wishers. The top has a picture of him in his Wildcats jersey with a basketball tucked under his arm. He looks serious in this picture. It's horrible. He was never that serious in real life. Never.
I can't tear my eyes away.
I lower myself to the ground and jam my hands into my coat pockets and feel my fingers brush against something.
Pulling it out, I find it's a folded up photography. Funny, I don't remember sticking any pictures in this pocket.
I unfold it and find the corners of my mouth turn upwards at what I see.
It's a photo of him. He's sitting in a tree, much like the one I'm standing under now, his legs dangling over the branch. His hair falls casually into his eyes, and his mouth is open in a laugh. His eyes are fixed on me. Me, sitting in front of him, tears running from my eyes. Even though the photo is black and white, I find myself lost in a pair of crystal blue eyes.
"Oh, Troy," I whisper, tears falling fast. "Why? Why did you have to go? Why didn't you tell me you were going? Best friends tell each other everything, right?" My voice begins to waver. He was supposed to convince me to go to Senior Prom. Graduate with me. Spend an amazing last summer in Albuquerque with me, making all the memories we could. Go out to California for college with me. Be there for me. Forever.
"I wi-ish," I started, with my voice cracking, "I-I had told you th-that I love you. Bef-fore you left." I broke down at that moment. My face nestled in the grass right by the cross, my body racking with sobs.
He was everything to me. He had been there for me in times I thought I wouldn't be able to survive, and vice versa. All that we had been through in our lives together made me regard him as my Superman, my rock.
It was like he was invincible. He could take anything.
I try to imagine his last moments. What was he thinking? I should have been there. But we were asked to wait outside. It took the doctors three hours.
Three hours.
And they accomplished nothing. Nothing at all.
- - - -
I'm not sure how long I sat there, crying. But after awhile, the slowly started to diminish until I was able to sit up.
Digging again into my coat pocket, I pull out a pen. Flipping the smiling picture over, I write a message on the back, before placing it on the cross, moving the grim Troy over a little to make room.
Standing up, I smile down at the picture of him laughing. When I close my eyes, I can hear the sweet ring of it echo in my ears.
I feel something warm on my face, like a breath, and the brush of lips on my forehead. Opening my eyes, I find no one there. I turn a circle, just to make sure because I know that I didn't imagine that. I could have sworn that I saw a pair of cerulean eyes twinkle at me from the clouds above.
He messed up, I knew that. And I was willing to accept that.
Doesn't mean my perspective of him was going to change.
Troy Alexander Bolton,
You are invincible to me.
The invincible never die.
I love you, always and forever,
Your Brie.
- - - -
Note: If you listen to Invincible by Jesse McCartney before/during/after, it would add to the mood. This is actually a rewrite of an old oneshot I about a year or so ago. The only thing I'm extremely worried about is that I've made Gabriella too overdramatic. But when I take a step back and look at the big picture, I think that her reactions fit the situation. Of course, that's just a matter of opinion. And I would love to hear yours.
I've never actually known anyone hurt because of DUI but I've known people who have known. And I can understand that it's probably a gut wrenching experience. So if any of you read this and find it relative to you, I give you my sincerest comfort.