A/N: Wow, it's been a long time! This is a rewrite of 'Does This Darkness Have a Name'.
Leave me out with the trash this is not what I do, it's the wrong kinda place to be thinking of you.
Stumbling upon the desolate streets with nothing but a bottle of vodka clutched in her hand, Ronnie breathed in. She breathed a breath which could've mastered an entire ocean, quivering like an earthquake in exhale. Slumming herself down onto a bench, Ronnie unscrewed the rouge cap and pressed the brim of the transparent bottle to her dry, cracked lips, shaking as the cool substance slithered down her throat and overindulged on her vital organs. The chilling wind whipped through her hair and rippled underneath her thin blouse, coaxing even more goose bumps to surface the pale skin she wore. Her teeth chattered unstoppably, the sound echoing on and on. Then it was as if heavy weights were tugging ferociously on her eyelids, she was drifting further and further...away.
One serene Sunday morning not too close or far away from tragedy, nestled one person in a dreamy, wooden slumber, lying in a reckless serenity as the late morning's sun washed away the darkness of the night before. The liquid light drenched through the limp gaps of her half closed eyes, and if this was to be but a perfect tale maybe she would've been able to distinguish the sound of birds singing amongst the world outside. Her distorted state lay on exhibition to the public, who had blinded themselves with the lie that she would soon get better.
Groggily, Ronnie tried to sit up on the bench. Her mind was trying to fathom how she had got there, but looking back over the last few months, everything was an unruly surreal blur. As her eyes adjusted to the surroundings, footsteps and car engines blared unnaturally in her ears, making her want to keel over and drown forever in her own atmosphere of twilight grey. She just wanted to run away and go back into hiding.
"Oh God," A familiar voice spoke, his shocked tone locking a tight grip around her body.
"Actually," she croaked, "it is Ronnie."
"I know." Jack replied, looking into her kaleidoscopic eyes. He felt an uncomfortable pang in his stomach, knowing that he had contributed to her uncontrollable depression, knowing that he was the reason for this. The silence they shared held nine million questions, to which the answers were more than complex. He wanted to kick and punch himself for hurting her, he wanted to save her. Jack could see her trying to get up, but her intoxicated self wouldn't allow it. She was trapped.
"Let me take you home." He whispered softly so that his voice wouldn't hurt her fragile being. Ronnie allowed him, only because she knew no one else would.
***
Once inside her flat, Ronnie had almost regained her senses. She walked into her bedroom and tied her windswept hair back into a ponytail with no sense of direction, for the mirror was draped in a dark plaid blanket, obscuring her, or any reflection. The whole room was bleak and dank, the only light visible seeped through the curtains, shadowing most of Ronnie's face. A cold aura aerated the place, as if the heating had never been on. This wasn't the flat that he remembered. Jack stood uneasily at the doorframe, clearing his throat to earn her attention.
"Oh," Ronnie turned around to face the torn man, "You're still here." Ronnie watched frostily as his face dropped. "Get out." She snapped, moving towards him with her arms stretched out. Jack caught her hands which tried to push him away. "We can still talk to each other Ron, please!"
Ronnie froze as her eyes melted. "Really?" His words made her feel valued, a feeling she hadn't lived for a long time.
"Everyone, including you needs someone."
Jack stroked her face in affection, almost in tears over how lost and vulnerable she was. Her eyes closed at his touch, overwhelming her with emotion which had been drained. With the love that engulfed her, the equal and opposite reaction of hatred was poured back in. All the lies and betrayal came flooding back to the brim of her memory.
"I. Hate. You." She spat from her clenched teeth. She grasped her hand over his and dug her untamed fingernails into his skin, before throwing it back to his side. He looked at her in agony, wondering who she was.
"I can never, never forgive you Jack." Ronnie took a step back, trying not to let Jack's warm presence demolish what little bitterness and emotion she had left. The silence between them was so loud, until Jack broke it.
"Where's your bed Ron?" Jack asked through his regretful tears. She shamefully glanced towards the corner of the bedroom where a few pillows and blankets uncomfortably lay in an unorthodox manner upon the wooden floor. Jack clapped his hands to his head and raced into the kitchen, opening the fridge door, expectedly finding nothing but a bottle of vodka. He flung open the cupboards and the drawers whilst Ronnie stood idly watching his frantic rush. "Where's the food? What do you eat?!" He yelled, waving his hands about in frustration. Ronnie looked at him blankly, forcing herself to push everything away from her mind, searching for the emptiness without alcohol. "Speak to me Ronnie!"
Ronnie turned her head away from Jack as tears began to spill. "No."
***
A playful smile tickled Roxy's pink lips as she let her head fall back into Doctor Al's body. He wrapped his arms around her waist, whilst his nose tingled amidst her brighter than blonde curls. Amy sat in her highchair at the end of the table, giggling ominously to herself, displaying the rarity of laughter which the Mitchells were always lacking. Roxy and Al looked at the bubbly baby with so much love and care. They had had a tough year, what with Danielle dying and Ronnie becoming nothing but a ghost of her former self, but Amy made it all better.
"Oi you two!" Archie smiled as he strutted into the room, "Roxanne, how about you help your Auntie Peg dish out the food, and Al you can help me set the table." Both Roxy and Al bowed down to his orders, some things just never changed. Peggy grinned like a Cheshire cat to herself as she eavesdropped in the conversation which took place in the next room. It had taken a lot of forgiveness and grief to finally accept Archie back into the family, there was no doubt in her senile mind that he was the love of her life. If she knew anything then it was that forgiveness is the key to happiness.
The Mitchells, par Ronnie, sat down, absorbed in their rose tinted perception. Archie sat at the head of the table, with full view of all the diners, and an overview of every conversation. Archie's eyes interpreted Ben. His face was oblivious to anything. "Ben, what's up lad?" He asked, seizing the opportunity to win the child, who doted upon Ronnie, over.
"Where's Ronnie?" He asked in his quiet, not quite adolescent voice, "Shouldn't she be here with us?"
Al diverted his attention from a glowing Roxy. "Yeah, I think maybe you should consider referring her to a mental health clinic. Or at least get her to see someone." He twirled the sauce stained spaghetti around the fork and carefully placed it into his mouth before it could wriggle free again.
"Like rehab?" Roxy piped up, the smell of Al's aftershave fluttering her senses.
Archie raised his left eyebrow and leaned forward slightly. "Well I saw Jack Branning coming out of her flat earlier on."
"You what?" Phil snapped, furiously retiring his cutlery to the plate, causing Ben to jump in his seat.
"Yeah, yeah if you ask me, he appeared to have been crying." Archie said, as soft as velvet.
"Right well, let's not allow her tospoil our nice family meal." Peggy took her glass and drunk the sherry from within, wondering if Ronnie would ever not persist on being an obstacle to their happiness.
"To family, and what a good one we are!" Archie toasted, gloating in power as the others followed suit.
A/N: Okay, so if you have read the original story, this first chapter is completely different, but I think it still achieves the same concept? The storyline will pretty much be the same as the original because this is just a rewrite, (hopefully better). I always cringe whenever I read the first few chapters I ever posted on here lol.
I never actually finished 'Does this darkness have a name' and that is because I have had such a major mental block, plus school work, and tbh I really didn't like the whole Lucas/max route I took so I am really quite anxious about posting this :s
Please review and tell me whether I should continue rewriting! Thank you so much for reading, Love Scarlett x