White noise.
Seething fury.
It starts as a sharp stabbing sensation under his ribs,
directly to his soul.
And dials down to a dull throbbing.
They have to pry him from the lifeless body,
Extricate him from the pathetic mewling of Nathan Prescott,
The whimpering form of the new student huddled next to him.
Mel? Meg?
Throw him in front of Wells.
He gives a long winded monotone lecture.
Buzzwords include "Sincere loss" and "Trying time"
But Madsen fixates on "Administrative Leave"
To say it rankles him is an understatement.
David sighs, the fifth of Jack in his hand heavy all of a sudden.
He promised he'd stop.
"A beer or two every now and then" He assured Joyce.
He'd call this an exception.
The ocean's song lulls him back to earth,
The current returns, bringing his train of thought back with it.
He should have seen this coming.
Known what Chloe had gotten herself into.
He should have been faster.
Joyce was counting on him..
Joyce...
The fury flairs up in him, the bottle is sent spiraling into the churning Pacific below.
He watches gravity do its work.
And wonders if this is the point it affects him.
That Wiley Coyote moment.
The plummet.
It feels that way.
A deep breath, soaking in the retiring sunlight,
the gentle ministrations of the ocean breeze.
He gazes across the horizon, down to the sleepy town;
the one he's tried so hard to make home.
With a family he's tried to band together.
Now forever broken, never to be set properly.
He shuts his eyes, and Joyce's eyes pierce through him, icy tendrils of despair.
Rivers threatening to cascade from beneath them.
She let's out a wail that will probably follow him to the grave.
And he holds her for it's all he's able to do anymore.
Feeling her sobs wrack through her frame.
It's deep rooted pain; sadness dealt from deep within.
There's no words he can muster to alleviate that agony.
Just let his own hurt seep down his cheeks in silence.
He can't recall how long they remain there; hours he'd imagine.
Eventually it overwhelms her, and she has cried herself into exhaustion.
All he can do is tuck her away from all of this if only for now.
Plant a gentle kiss on her brow and vow to her and himself it'll be OK.
It's a sentiment he'd love to buy into.
This is a woman he swore he'd give everything to..
And yet..
And yet, he feels like his lack of vigilance has taken her most precious possession.
Another casualty..
He pinches the bridge of his nose, listening to the audible click of the archaic lighthouse above him.
Perpetual motion.
Suddenly, his hands are slack at his sides, and he too is moving.
Something is wrong.
Well, everything is wrong right now,
But there's the sensation that this the beginning of something.
Something...Dark.
Prescott's babbling suddenly comes to the foreground of his memory.
"Ididn'tmeanto.-Sheknew. Sheknew. I-had-had-tostopher"
At the time, he was seeing red.
But now it suddenly feels like a clue.
What actually happened here?
What did she know?
He makes it over to his car,
That old familiar sensation creeping over him,
His buzz dissipating as the gears begin to turn.
The mission has been received.
And there's a lot of ground to cover.