Hello, I'm rcppcsPOTTER, and this is my reverse falls story, "The Others".
WARNING: this will contain abuse, suicide, gore, swearing, and some mature subjects. (Such as abortion and many, many, many deaths. No sex.)
I hope you enjoy, follow, favorite and review!
"You may kiss the bride,"
When their lips touched, the world seemed to disappear around them. It was just her, held in the arms of the love of her life.
Their lips parted, a mere millimeter apart.
"I love you," Owen whispered with a smile.
She looked deep into his eyes. Those eyes. The light ocean blue of her husband's eyes, it was so reassuring. That look on his face, that smile, it was as if every time his lips formed to a grin he was letting her know much he loved her.
"I love you, too." She said.
And with that, he pulled her into a longer, deeper kiss. His arms entwined in her dark, curly brown hair, almost painfully. But she didn't care.
She loves him.
He loves her.
It's as simple as that. Happily, ever after.
Evanna smiled, recalling on the wonderful memory.
"Cheers," she said, the two glasses touching, causing the loud clink noise of interacting glass.
He had one arm wrapped around her, his legs crossed as he sipped from his own glass.
"Dear, you have a little wine on –" Evanna began dabbing the brown stubble mustache of her husband with a napkin.
"Thank you, sweetheart," he kissed her hand, speaking in his soft, American accent.
Owen unwrapped his arm from her neck, and began to rise from the couch, but his wife held him by the arm and smiled.
"One last drink," she offered.
He smiled handsomely and lowered himself down beside her, gripping the glass she handed him and kissing her lovingly.
"The guests will arrive soon," he said, lowering the glass from his lips.
"Who cares?" she placed her own glass on the coffee table, as well as the glass she then removed from her husband's grip. "It's not their four-year anniversary."
"Yes, but we invited them," Owen eyed her skeptically.
She rolled her eyes and kissed him full on the lips. "Eh, the Johnsons' are always late,"
She kissed him again, and he looked down at her, his blue eyes shining with love. "Yeah, but the Russells' like to come early,"
He pushed her, and she fell to be lying on the couch, him on top of her.
They kissed.
"The Russells' are out of town," she laughed.
Before he had a chance to answer there was a knock on the door.
"See?" he said, a devilish look of triumph on his beautiful face.
Ah, happily ever after.
Yes, the dream.
True love even after four years.
The perfect marriage.
Yes, the perfect marriage, until . . .
-R-E-V-E-R-S-E-
As Owen waved away the last of the guests, she knew it was safe to leave the restroom.
She had to tell him. Now.
"Yes, thank you for coming –" he said, waving to the guests through the crack in the door before slamming it shut.
"Evanna?" he called.
"I'm here, darling," Evanna answered as she walked out of the restroom, dabbing her tearful eyes.
"Evanna," he exclaimed, his voice now full of concern, he walked towards his wife and gripped her arms, watching her tears fall worriedly, looking at her as though waiting for her wet eyes to tell him what was wrong.
She placed a hand to her heart and started breathing fast, pulling herself together.
And as she wiped away the last tear, she spoke, her voice steady, despite the weeping.
"I think you should sit down, Owen," she voiced.
Her husband did as he was told and sat down on the couch, Evanna then following his actions and settled beside him.
She drew a deep breath.
I have to tell him . . . I have to tell him now . . .
"Owen . . ." she began nervously, her eyes shutting tight.
I have to tell him . . . he'll know sooner or later . . .
"I'm pregnant."
"But – the curse –" Owen spoke immediately, shock and worry etched upon every inch of his face.
"The curse is what caused it, darling," she explained sadly. "The curse is what will keep the wine from earlier from causing any birth defects. The curse is what will make sure it is born, and does as prophesied."
"When – when did you find out?"
"During the party."
Owen palmed his face, sweat beginning to build on his forehead, his heart nearly visible as it pounded in his chest.
"But – this can't be, the – the child . . ." He stared at the floor, wide eyed. "The child is . . ." the man looked back to his wife. "Evanna, we can't raise a monster!"
"Two monsters, Owen," she added, her voice barely auditable.
"Two – twins?" he shouted.
Evanna sighed. "There's always –"
"What, abortion?" he screamed. "They overturned that law in Gravity Falls last year, it's illegal!"
Her eyes filled with tears again. "Even if it was legal . . . I'd rather keep our babies –"
"Yes, wonderful idea, raise two kids that'll destroy the entire freaking –"
"SHUT UP!" she stopped her husband, now on her feet, screaming as well as tears streaming down her cheeks.
There was a deafening moment of silence.
She stared into his bright, ocean blue eyes. They weren't filled with that warm loving anymore, it was something different . . . it wasn't hate, but it was raging, a look that caused her insides to boil with frustration and anger.
"Don't you dare," the woman said murderously. "Talk about my children like that!"
"Yeah," he said, dangerously quiet. "'your children' is right."
The wave of anger and madness bubbling inside her washed away and was replaced by a wave of love and fear.
"Wait –" she whispered, realizing what her spouse was saying. "You can't – you can't leave me, Owen. Please."
Owen said nothing. He took his jacket from a hook, and opened the door to leave.
"Wait!" Evanna ran to the door. "You can't leave me, Owen, you can't! Please, darling, please stay – we can work this out –"
It all happened so fast.
He grabbed her shoulders, gripping them tight, and threw her against the wall. The pain was – was – not there. She felt dazed, tired, and the warm liquid gushing down her neck and down her back didn't help matters. She blinked twice, her vision becoming clear.
"No," she croaked as her husband opened the door to leave once again. "Please, Owen – I love . . ." the door slammed shut, followed by the sound of her bawling tears.
-R-E-V-E-R-S-E-
"Come on, Evanna, one more push!"
And with a piercing scream, the first child left her womb, and she heard its cry.
"Dr. Redwood, cut the cord – the other's coming – I see a leg, we're going to have to do a C-section!"
Oh, wonderful. Now surgery is involved.
Trying to breath, Evanna couldn't help feeling that this was all a mistake . . .
"Oh, for heaven's sake, someone hold her hand!" A surgeon yelled, and immediately an intern ran to her side and gripped her sweaty palm.
"Breath in, breath out," the intern guided her.
"Scalpel," The surgeon ordered.
Thankfully it was only the feeling of pins and needles prickling at the arrival of her uterus as Dr. Wolf made the cut to remove the baby . . . and then there was the rest of the excruciating pain from before, getting stronger.
"Wilson, cut the cord," Dr. Wolf ordered once again. "Brown, close her up," she ordered another intern.
"Why – why don't I hear crying?" Evanna asked, panicking. "Why isn't he crying?"
No, no, no, no, no . . . I am NOT losing my baby . . .
"Dr. Wolf, why don't I hear my baby?!"
"We're losing him – get a crash cart!" A doctor shouted from a distance.
No . . . no . . .
And then everything went black.
-R-E-V-E-R-S-E-
"Congratulations, Mrs. Gray," was the first thing she heard when she awoke, the next thing was the sound of a crying baby in a hospital room.
The intern that had held her hand during the C-section handed her a bundle of blankets.
"This is your first born," he said. "It's a girl."
Evanna's eyes filled with joyful tears as she held the beautiful baby girl.
But then her heart plummeted when she remembered.
"But – where's the other? I didn't hear him crying!"
"It's alright, Mrs. Gray, he's right here," the intern said, showing her another bundle of blankets.
She gasped. He's alive.
She handed another intern the girl and received the other with open arms.
"He couldn't breathe on his own for the first two hours, so we had to keep him in an incubator until he could. But he's fine now, Mrs. Gray."
"Oh, don't call me Mrs. Gray," she said, not taking an eye of her child with the strange birthmark on his forehead. "That's my husband's name – he left me. My name is Gleeful. Evanna Gleeful."
"And your name will be . . . Mabel. Mabel Gleeful." She said, smiling proudly at the gurgling baby in the intern's arms. "And you little man, will be . . . Mason."
She had never been happier.
But her happiness subsided when she thought . . .
Owen's left me . . . I must raise them on my own . . . the curse . . . they are destined to . . . to . . . Evanna shuddered at the thought, looking down upon her babies.
They were so cute, so small, harmless and innocent. It was unimaginable that anyone could suggest that they would do such horrible inhumane things.
They were just children.
They were hers.
-R-E-V-E-R-S-E-
"I can't . . . I can't . . ." Evanna muttered furiously as she scribbled a note on a tearstained page.
"Okay – yes, I think he'll understand," she said, rereading her note to be sure it was understandable and clear.
She signed her name, feeling overwhelmingly hopeless. This was it.
Her eyes were white hot with tears when she turned to her children.
"You don't deserve this," she cried. "I'm so sorry my darlings,"
The woman picked up Mabel from her cradle and held her to her chest.
So small . . . so innocent . . .
Mabel lifted her tiny fists and began waving them around, reaching out to her mother's face.
"Hey, little Mabel," she said in a baby voice, and gave the baby a tearful smile. "That's right, I'm your mommy. Can you say 'Mommy'?"
She's only a week old, she reminded herself and burst into tears.
"Oh, I won't get to hear your first words . . ." She cradled the child in her arms. "I love you so much . . ."
She placed Mabel back in her cradle, and wiped away her tears before lifting her son.
"Hey, my baby boy," she said. He was wide awake in her arms, gazing at her, his big brown eyes wide with interest as he sucked his tiny clenched fist. "Is your hand yummy? Yeah?"
Mason made a gurgling sound in reply, causing his wet-eyed mother to laugh.
"Come, spend some time with your mommy," she said, settling in a chair beside Mabel's cradle.
She held up baby Mason on her lap and watched him wave his fists around and make high pitched sounds, as though he were telling her a very interesting story about an adventure he experienced.
She stroked the little amount of brown hair on his head softly, thinking how he was going to have his father's perfect hair.
"You're so handsome," she cooed over her week-old son. "Girls will be crazy for you, won't they, my Mason?"
He laughed cutely, spitting up on himself.
Then she recalled on what she had to do, once again, bursting into tears, and holding her son closer.
"I'm so sorry." Evanna cried. "I love you both so much . . . but I can't do this . . . and he'll be good to you, I know it . . . but babies deserve to be with their mommies . . ."
She cried harder, cradling Mason and kissing his head.
That's it . . . I have to do it. No more time to spare.
The single mother placed her son softly back into his cradle and ran into the kitchen, rustling through the dishes in cabinets until she found a basket.
She hurried back to where her children lay, and took a few blankets, laying them out in neat smooth manner, and then picking up Mason, and kissing his head.
"Mommy loves you, Mason." She said tearfully before placing him in the basket and covering him with another blanket. "Now, sleep, darling," she told him, before picking up his sister.
"Mommy loves you so much, Mabel." She kissed her and placed her in the large basket beside her twin.
Evanna covered Mabel with a blanket as well, shedding a tear in the process. A tear which landed on little Mason's forehead.
He began looking for the tear with his tiny fists, eventually crying out in frustration.
"No, no, don't cry," the mother gently wiped away the tear. "Mommy's here."
It took Mason a few minutes of his mother's lullaby to stop crying and fall asleep, along with his twin sister.
"There," she said softly. "Sweet dreams, my loves."
-R-E-V-E-R-S-E-
It was uncontrollable crying. Bawling beside her sleeping babies, Evanna placed the note beside the basket, and prayed he would take care of her children.
"I love you," she whispered to their tiny ears.
She walked away in a hurry, begging herself not to run back and take her children, got into the driver's seat and stepped on the gas.
-R-E-V-E-R-S-E-
The edge was getting closer as she drove quicker, shutting her eyes when she knew that she had reached the point of no return.
I love you, Owen. She thought just as the car went over the edge of the cliff, dropping her into the void.
-R-E-V-E-R-S-E-
"Ugh, stupid clock." He glared at the Coo-Coo-Clock, which was hooting loudly, announcing that it was ten O'clock at night.
"And what's with all that noise?" He growled, hearing high pitched crying from outside.
The man forced himself from his chair, and headed towards the door.
What he couldn't expect was what was behind it.
Two babies.
"Who –" he began, before noticing there was a note beside the basket containing the babies.
"Let's get you two out of the cold," he said gruffly, lifting the basket and note and placing them on the kitchen table.
He settled down in a chair beside the screaming babies, and tried to ignore their crying as he began to read the note.
Before he even began, he spotted his niece Evanna's name signed at the end, and immediately read with determination.
'Dear Uncle Stan,
These are my babies, Mabel and Mason. They are to be called by our name, my maiden name, Gleeful.
I trust you to raise them, as I cannot.
I have no doubt that by the time you read this I shall be dead, declaring this my suicide note.'
He stopped and swallowed.
She's dead, he thought.
A single boiling tear left his eye, reaching the floor the moment he thought, Evanna's dead.
First, he lost Stanford, then came Sherman's early death, and now . . . Evanna is dead. At least Shermie didn't live to see his daughter die.
Swallowing again, he looked back at the note, and continued reading.
'It is my dying wish that they be well taken care of, and educated to love and cherish all the living. To be humble, noble, good and kind people.
You must raise them well, for my sake.
And when the time comes, make sure Mabel is with nice boys, who deserve her, and truly love her. As well as Mason. I trust you to raise him to be a respectful, kind, loving man, and make sure he is only with girls who truly love and deserve him.
It may seem like a small and petty thing to put in my last words, but I have learned that who you love and spend the rest of your life with is the most important decision you make, it can turn on you in an instant, and I want my children to have help through that crucial time.
And as for schooling, they are to be homeschooled through kindergarten, and taught at the Gravity Falls school through elementary and high school, and I trust that you will be supportive through every teenage issue.'
Afraid I might let you down there, Evie, he thought sadly.
'And most important of all, let them know you love them, and make sure they know that their mommy loved them.
I love you, Uncle Stan.
-Evanna
Stanley wiped the tears from his now wet eyes.
"So, it's up to me to raise you little gremlins, huh?" he looked at the babies in the basket with a frown.
They had fell silent now.
"I guess you two can stay in the attic," he said, lifting one of the babies.
This was definitely Mabel.
"Hi, there, Mabel," he smiled at the baby girl. "I'm you're Great-Uncle Stan, but since that's so long I'd prefer you called me 'Grunkle'."
Stan put her back and lifted his nephew.
"And you must be Mason," he cradled the boy, he giggled. "I bet you heard what I told your sister. I'm Grunkle Stan, and you'll be staying with me, okay?"
He took one baby in each arm, and carried them to watch TV with him.
"You know what we need to do?" he told the week-old twins. "Baby shopping!"
-R-E-V-E-R-S-E-
Well, that was my first chapter!
Tragic . . . this is depressing me, so, I've got to stop writing for now and watch some Gravity Falls to cheer me up.
Well, I hope you liked this first chapter, feel free to review with so constructive criticism, and plot suggestions, which, chances are, I'll use.
And, of course, follow and favorite!
And I should have some quote to leave you with . . .
"I'm Sandra Jimenez, and I ate a rat for dinner!"