(I will be the first to admit that my first story is so much better than this)
Well that final episode has wrecked me. This came to me in the middle of the night after seeing my baby Steve suffering at home. If you haven't read my story Unquestionable Thinking, then do so as this could be a prequel to that or read it on its own...doesn't really matter. Something might come of this in the form of more one-shots as Steve falls further and further down the rabbit hole but we all know me I'm not exactly an achiever.
The sensation was the same as last night and the night before that. He knew that he would wake up as soon as he hit the ground but tonight's dream was talking longer than the others to end. It was strange. He knew that he would soon wake up in a sweaty mess like most nights so far and he would into the kitchen and make a cup of tea to calm himself down. It was now a routine since he hadn't been getting much sleep. Every night the same as the one before. Just never returning to the state of calm he had before the incident.
The cold concrete drug into Steve's back and the pain soon overwhelmed him. His eyes were closed trying to focus on the pain and stop it from taking over him. He could feel the blood from his wound seeping out and covering the stairwell. Dying here was not what Steve wanted. He heard heavy footsteps on the stairs heading towards him. They came to a halt a few steps above where he lay.
Steve tried to open his eyes but it felt like they were stuck. He tried again, he wanted a look at his attacker as they approached and knelt beside them. Steve was scared that they would do more harm but to his surprise, they reached up and lifted the balaclava from their face. Blood seeped out from under it. His eyes widened in surprise as he saw the face underneath the mask.
He jumped. His eyes opened and he recognised exactly where he was. In his favourite armchair, sitting in front of the TV which was playing an endless run of horror movies throughout the night. He must have dozed off he thought after watching the channel a couple of hours ago. The only problem that his once favourite armchair had become more a prison than a home. Not being allowed to return to work was taking its toll on Steve as there are only so many daytime TV arguments he could watch before questioning his sanity.
He slipped out of the chair and tried to ease himself into his wheelchair, without much luck. He tried again and with a sharp cry of pain he made it. Trying to not cause too much damage to the furniture and as carefully as he could Steve manoeuvred his way across the room towards the kettle.
As the water was boiling, Steve's gut was telling him that something was off. He disregarded it as him being paranoid due to the incident but the feeling wasn't for going away. One look wouldn't hurt, he thought, just to make him feel better. He eased himself out from behind the island into the middle of the kitchen. Steve's eyes scanned the room and rested on a shape in the darkness of the TV screen. The credits finished and the dark glow changed to a bright white as the adverts began to play. The glow from the TV screen illuminated the figure and Steve saw her face for the first time.
"Hi Steve."
Steve's stomach dropped. She didn't look much different from the photo in the interview that he had saw her in. She still wore the same outfit that he last saw her in but now the jumper and jeans that she wore were now stained with her blood. Her face was pale, her eyes lifeless, and her hair dull. She smiled at him but it couldn't reach her eyes.
Steve wheeled back to the counter. He rested his hands on the top and gripped hard. His breathing had quickened, his eyes closed as he tried to slow down his breathing. Lindsay stood up from the sofa and crossed the room to where Steve was, resting her body against the kitchen island. She looked at the mess around her. Juice cartons, glasses and plates with half eaten food cluttered the counter. This was when Lindsay realised that Steve was a mess. As much of a mess as she was when her mum died and he had used it against her. The feelings she had at the café, when he apologised, came flooding back.
Steve felt Lindsay's presence behind him. He didn't want to turn around. He didn't want to look her in the eyes, he just wanted her to go away. Lindsay stepped forward and placed a hand on Steve's back. "Just to let you know that I'm going to be here for a while. I'm not going away so you're just going to have to get used to me."
Steve's head was pounding. His senses were overwhelmed. Light filtered through the open curtains temporary blinding him, the smell if disinfectant filled his nostrils and a familiar voice filled his ears as he awakened. He opened his eyes slowly as the pain temporarily blinding him. It took Steve a while but as his eyes adjusted he started to recognised shapes and colours. He could make out Kate, who was sitting on a hard-plastic chair at the side of his bed and had been all night by the look of her crinkled clothes. Making eye contact, Kate and Steve smiled at each other, both glad that he made it.
Noticing someone walk in the room and thinking it was his boss or a nurse coming in to check on him Steve glanced up towards the end of the bed. He really wished he hadn't. There was a sight that he didn't want to see, a sight he thought he had rid of. Steve welled up with tears. Lindsay was staring at him again with those blank, dead eyes. Would she ever leave him alone?