A/N: This story has been in the works since October 22, 2013 and throughout those months, I have spent time carefully constructing the chapters. Now that the writers for Degrassi are trying to tear all of our hearts out with ruining two of its staple couples, I feel it's time to publish this thing. There is going to be a total of ten chapters for this story and each chapter will have a few lines from a Wakey!Wakey! song. It is not vital to listen to the songs beforehand, but if you enjoy the idea of music setting the proper mood, find the songs and press play.
The story title itself is a line from a Wakey!Wakey! song ("Light Outside") and I do suggest trying out that song before you read this story.
Chapters of Know I Am will be published bimonthly with the final chapter hopefully being published May 15/16 of this year. This first chapter is fairly short, but I promise you, the chapters get longer and longer. Some even going above 30 pages. If you take pleasure in reading long stories, I guess this is the thing for you. If not, just imagine what happens after this first chapter.
Elijah Goldsworthy is a delicate character that I may or may not have written him well. If you have suggestions for how to better write him in the future (because I've already written this thing and I don't want to have to go back and change everything) please PM me. Reviews are welcome, but if they are just to cruelly criticise me, please rethink before posting. I am human and do not take kindly to people bashing me for the sake of their own satisfaction. If you don't like, just go away.
With that said, please enjoy the first installment of Know I Am (Going To Stay Right Here).
We begin during the final few scenes of All Falls Down Pt. 2. Eli and Fitz are having a Mexican standoff with the third party (Clare) standing by and waiting to intervene should anything happen. When Mark Fitzpatrick forgoes his original plan to simply scare Eli, the lives of the three people in that hallway are changed forever.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN DEGRASSI OR LYRICS WRITTEN BY THE BAND WAKEY!WAKEY!
Chapter 1
At least you were thrown clear,
cause I'm still stuck in here.
And I'm still stuck.
"Car Crash" by Wakey!Wakey!
The knife goes in, pinching my flesh. I feel the stinging stretch of my skin as it pulls out and I vaguely hear it clap to the ground. Clare screams loudly, her shrill shriek filling the halls with its terror as she slides down next to me.
I look at her and see pain written in her eyes. She's shaking me and I'm entranced by her lips as they move: open and close, but I don't hear anything. Everything rings, filling my head with sparks and flashes. Bursting phosphene lights dance in my vision, clouding even Clare from view.
It slips through my mind that Fitz has disappeared, but I try and focus on Clare as she clings to me. Through my fading eyesight I see her hands coated in a red smoke and she's trembling as tears fall from her eyes.
My mouth opens and I breathe out, trying to tell her something. Something - God! what is it I'm trying to say? Nothing comes out and it all becomes unbearable. The throbbing in my shoulder, the ringing in my ears, and I let everything go black.
"Eli!"
I hear her calling my name. Her voice is getting clearer with each passing second and I can feel an underlying sense of security as her cry floats through my ears. I never believed in any God or any form of afterlife, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe Clare was right and I'm on my way to see her. To hold her and finally tell her how utterly sorry I am. Sorry that I abandoned her. That I fell for someone else.
A dull ache beginning at my left shoulder and licking its way through my chest is the thing that finally pulls me down.
My eyes slowly begin to slide open, but suddenly shut again. The sun burns like fire. I can hear someone moving beside me, clearly disturbed by my awakening.
I jolt upright, peeling my eyes open, only to have someone gently push me back down. I yelp in pain as a blaze spreads through me, bile rising in my throat. I swallow and do my best not to throw up.
Things I notice: this is not my bedroom. These are not my clothes. Julia is not here.
I look over to the person next to me.
"Mom," I croak out, my throat dry and scratched from underuse. Or overuse. I'm not entirely sure which one.
"Oh, baby." I see the inner turmoil in her face as she stops herself from flinging her arms around me. Good call, probably. Instead, she takes my hand. Carefully, she unclasps the tight fist I hadn't realised I was making and slides her fingers between mine. A warmth spreads through me as my mind attempts to clear away the heavy fog. "Are you okay?" She asks after a few seconds of staring worriedly at my face. I gently nod and she begins rubbing her thumb against the back of my hand.
I revel in this feeling. This comfort that only a mother can bring.
More seconds, minutes, pass in the silence and I can't stop my brain from rotating around what happened.
Fitz towering above me, a knife glinting moonlight in his hand. Clare at my side, tugging nervously at her dress. The anger and hatred burning in his eyes as he plunged the-
"Eli," my thoughts are disrupted and I see CeCe's face etched in concern. Wet tears slide down my face and I attempt to wipe them, but my arms hurt too much to move. She reaches out and slicks her thumbs against my cheeks, leaning in to kiss my forehead. "There's someone waiting for you," she leans her nose against mine and for the briefest moment, my mind still in a daze, I think she's talking about Julia.
But she's dead. She has been for a long time.
My heart sinks, but I nod anyway.
"I'll go get her," and with that, I am left with my thoughts and the ache in my shoulder.
The hospital room is small. And clean. And white.
I hate it.
"Elijah," it is a breathless call and I feel my heart speed up at the sound. I almost forgot what she looked like. What she sounded like. I almost forgot how she could make me feel. The monitor by my bed begins beeping erratically. Stop it.
I look up through my eyelashes. She's stopped in the doorframe, a horrorstricken stare in place.
I can't smile. I can't talk. My mouth muscles are frozen.
"I'll leave you two alone," I hadn't registered the fact that CeCe had returned, but there she was, walking off.
"Elijah," she says it again. My full name. I never liked it, but when it slips from her mouth and out into the open air, my ears perk up. Clare moves over to me, her feet gliding swiftly against the disgustingly clean marble floor of the hospital.
All my brain registers while she pulls the singular chair in the room by the bedside is how beautiful she looks. Broken, yes, but utterly beautiful.
She searches my face for something, but must not find much because she looks down at her hands. I desperately want to grab them, but I probably can't.
"You look like hell," she murmurs the words and they sizzle off her tongue. Her eyes are still trained on her own skin. I try and chuckle or maybe just smirk at her statement, but I honestly can not. It's like everything got shut down. Like that bastard didn't just stab me in the arm, but dug that damn thing deep enough to sever all of my nerve endings. I can't feel a thing.
Except…except her. I can feel the girl sitting next to me. I can sense her nervousness. I can feel the jitters in my muscles start to increase as she abandons her obviously fascinating hands for my eyes and I stare mercilessly into hers. Trying to lose myself in the sky that is her gaze.
She interrupts it all by speaking the words I really just don't want to hear.
"Do you want to know what happened?" She says it so gravely and darkly that I'm not entirely positive it is even Clare Edwards sitting before me. Her usual cute outfits have been replaced by a dark jacket (it looks incredibly familiar) and loose-fitting jeans. Her eyes are sunken and have dark patches blotting below her lower lash line.
"That's mine," the words slip out before I can think about them, but it seems to distract her well enough.
"Yeah, I," she tugs nervously at the right sleeve, picking at the fraying fabric, "I stole it from you. Well, steal is a harsh word. I more accidentally took it. When you lent it to me one day at school when I was…cold ." She smiles nervously. Afraid, almost. No!
"I can give it back if you want," she says hurriedly, beginning to yank the zipper down.
"No, no, Clare," I attempt to say her name softly, but it comes out harsh. I try to move my smiling muscles, I try so damn hard, but they just won't budge. So I continue, opting for a lower voice, "It looks nice on you. Better than it did on me anyway." Everything sounds bitter. Like I'm forcing the words out. Which I suppose I am, but I don't want her to think I dislike talking to her. I watch as her face slowly falls even further than before.
Going against every screaming thought in my brain, I recklessly reach over to her with my good arm, forcing myself to twist into an extremely uncomfortable position, so I can grab ahold of her hands.
A shockwave goes through me as our fingers lace together and I shiver involuntarily, silently cursing whoever it was that put her in my life. My heart leaps into my throat at the disastrous thought and I scold myself for thinking such a thing.
Silence surrounds us like the heavy mist in my head and I am thankful that she seems to have dropped all efforts of conversation. I want to hold her in my arms so bad, but I can't. Her face is full of sorrow and weariness and I imagine I look the same. Probably worse.
"He got away." She says it suddenly and coldly. I choke on my breath, coughing. My shoulder throbs and throbs. I can't get air in my lungs, my mouth won't open enough. A panic attack. I am having a panic attack. I haven't had one since Julia died.
The pain in my chest rises and I am struggling for a proper breath. Clare has jumped up and has her hands on me. She's saying something. "Look…me. Eli, I need…you…me. Look…" But it's all jumbled together and I feel my brain get heavy and all I want to do is slump down and die. This world has nothing for me except for two parents and a frightened girl.
"Eli!" Clare's soft, breathy voice is in my ear and she's rocking me back and forth. One of her hands is twisted in my hair and the other is gripping my hand hard. Wait, no, I am gripping her hand. Her fingers are turning purple. I loosen my hold. "In and out. You can do it. In and out." I listen, focusing on her. In and out. In and out.
Eventually I calm down and can breathe properly, but Clare has refused to let go. I cling to her, my hands holding her elbows. I refuse to give into the pain in my shoulder, allowing myself the slight pleasure of inhaling her familiar scent mixed with my own.
It smells like home, the new home I created in allowing myself to let her in. Quiet sobs wrack through her body and I feel hot tears drip on my cheeks, but they aren't my own.
I separate myself from Clare and see her bloodshot eyes filled with wetness. She mumbles an apology and wipes my face with the tissue held firmly between her fingers.
I hold her hand on my cheek, grabbing the tissue from her in order to enjoy the feel of her skin on mine. Because I know that the minute I let her go, we will have to talk about it. It. That stupid, stupid thing.
I know what happened. Fitz stabbed me. He called Clare a bitch. He ran away. He hasn't been found. I now must fear for my life in more than one way.
Now I need to worry about him being around the corner, ready to finish the job. He will try and finish the job. I no longer have to just fret about my own mental state and my own thoughts of ending my life, but I have to add to the insane mess the possibility of being murdered.
I know what happened.
And I want to forget.
So I hold Clare's hand to my cheek as it warms my face and makes a slight blush creep up my neck. She strokes her pinky against my jaw and I close my eyes, a smile finally forming on my lips. A genuine, heartfelt smile. It hurts, but my body feel lighter.
I chance a look up at her.
Her eyes are trained on me, clearer now than they were before. She's smiling, too, her teeth on display. I want to tell her I love her and thank her for being here before she returns to that shallow grave, but I don't want to talk. I don't want to taint this moment with words and feelings. I just want to be. I just want to be.
Eventually, a nurse comes in and asks how I am. Clare releases me. She saunters out of the room, promising me with her eyes that she will return.
On a scale of one to ten how do I feel, can I move my arm, am I tired, did I remember what happened, how's you're girlfriend doing, you're going to be okay, you'll be going home later today, there was no serious damage, he must have bad aim.
Yes, the nurse said that.
I nodded and answered questions when need be: Six (but it was really a ten), I can move it yes (but it hurts like hell), no (yes), I do remember (but I don't want to), she's okay (what do you think?), I know (I doubt it), sounds good (I don't want to go home), I'm glad (I wish he had gotten my heart), ha (I wish he had gotten my heart).
She checks my IV and my heart monitor, takes my blood pressure, and tells me she'll be back with something to take my mind off of the pain. I had been out of it for a while.
I sit alone once again and think.
Well, now what?
Elijah Goldsworthy, prepare for a downward spiral.
Yes, that sounds about right.
A/N 2: What did ya think? Will you come back for more? I understand if you won't, truly. The first chapter isn't my shining glory. If you like it, and if you want to do such a thing, do all the favouriteing, following, and reviewing. As I said before, if you didn't like it, there's absolutely no point in telling me so unless it's constructive criticism. You and I have nothing to prove to one another.
Look out for the next chapter on the 15th of January!
And yes, before people tell me I'm spelling words wrong, I am British. I say been instead of bin or ben (that's what my American brother-in-law makes fun of me most for) and I spell words with an s and an ou instead of a z and a simple o. No worries, I'm not illiterate. A few words will be written the American/Canadian way (like mom instead of Mum) because when I hear the characters of the show talk, they're saying mOm not mUm and it's easier for me to get lost in their backstories if I write like that.