A/N: A film adaptation of 'In Your Eyes,' but of course, with my own Rizzles twist. If you haven't seen the film, I highly recommend it. It's wonderful.
This is a short intro/prologue. I'm thinking it'll be around 10 chapters give or take. And keep in mind that I'm merely swapping the two leads for Jane and Maura, the rest of the storyline remains true to the movie.
b
.
.
Massachusetts
Twenty-Five Years Ago
.
The gleeful shrieks and laughter of the children should have served as some sort of comfort. A sign that this was a place of play. Safe. Fun. Enjoyable. But the more she listened, the more out of place she felt. She didn't belong here. The cold air stung her cheeks, and she wanted nothing more than to walk down the hill with her sled trailing behind and never return.
On her left, a boy flew down the hill, a blur of neon yellow and camouflage. Then on her right, two girls raced side-by-side, their sleds spitting up snow was they went.
Maura closed her eyes then, blocking out the blinding white snow as she tightened her grip on her own sled. This was absolutely crazy.
"Go ahead, darling," her mother tried, her voice kind and patient. But now Maura was beginning to think it was a terrible idea to drag her mother into all of this. She would be so disappointed to see her daughter unable to manage the courage to push off.
Maura opened her eyes and watched another half dozen or so kids slide down and trek back up the hill, smiling and laughing. Having the time of their lives.
"Brave," she whispered to herself as she lowered herself flat on her stomach atop her brand new sled.
It was time to be brave.
.
.
New Mexico
.
The playground was alive.
A crowd had collected just feet behind where Jane stood at home plate, giving the pitcher her best sneer. The one that absolutely screamed, 'go on, throw it. I double dog dare you!'
"C'mon, Janie!" Barry shouted from second base. "Hit me home!"
"Let's go Jane! Let's go Jane!" the crowd cheered, and right then, she knew. That lunchtime baseball game might as well have been the World Series. The pitcher smirked, but Jane only matched it, doubling his intensity. Oh yes, she was definitely bringing home a victory on the school bus today.
But just as the pitcher began to wind back, a sea of white clouded her vision. The baseball field vanished, leaving nothing in its place. She blinked the game back into focus just in time to see the ball zoom right past her into the catcher's mitt.
"Strike one!"
Jane shook it off. So she got a strike. Big deal. Happens to the best of 'em. She just couldn't let it happen again in front of all of these people. The last thing she wanted was her little problem to cost her the game.
The catcher tossed the ball back, and the rag tag crowd of elementary schoolers laughed as it soared high above his head and rolled into the outfield. Jane rolled her eyes and tapped her foot impatiently as she waited. It was just like these boys to mess everything up right before the bell.
Jane watched as the boy picked up the ball and started to jog back, but somewhere between blinks she lost him. Again, she blinked her eyes rapidly to clear her vision, but nothing happened. She was trapped in a sea of white. Cold and bitter on her skin. Her fingers gripped hard around her bat, but she couldn't see anything.
She felt the wind sharply hitting her face, and acute sense of fear encroaching on her.
And then suddenly it was right in front of her. Amidst the ocean of frigid white, a thick, gnarled oak tree stood directly in her path. It seemed to grow larger by the second, and only then did she realize it wasn't growing at all.
She was headed straight for it.
Frantic to avoid collision, Jane tried to move out of the way. But she couldn't. She was stuck on a one-way path.
'Maura, Maura darling jump off!'
The woman's voice was as clear as day, but Jane couldn't recognize her.
'Maura! Maura jump off the sled! Maura!'
Jane's heart hammered against her chest so hard she thought it might bruise. She wanted to jump, but she couldn't. Her body was not her own. She shut her eyes tight unable to handle her impending doom.
Her skull connected with the trunk of the tree with a sickening crack, and Jane crumpled to the dirt on top of home plate in the sweltering New Mexico sun.
.
.
Massachusetts
.
The other mothers grabbed their children by the elbows and towed them back to their mini vans and SUVs for Capri Sun and granola bar after-school snacks as Constance Isles loaded into an ambulance with her gurney-strapped daughter.
"Why didn't you jump, darling?" she whispered, her voice nearly breaking at the sight of her daughter's blood oozing into her golden hair.
"Scared," Maura said so softly it didn't matter who was listening. "So scared."