Hello again, everyone. C: Long author's note, sorry; I just have a lot to say this time. xD So, I lied about the "last chapter" talk, considering I could not stop writing, & this supposed "last chapter" ended up as over 4,000 words. Once again, I am splitting it in two. This one is still pretty long, but I don't even care. xD Hopefully you like seeing things a little more from Drew's POV, though. I prefer writing in the third person, as I like to get into multiple character's minds; but I wanted this epilogue-type-thing to be Drew's thoughts, so you get the history first-hand, over Mal & Natara somehow finding it out. The major thing is that it wouldn't of had as much depth coming from Mal or Natara as it would from Drew.
Also, there are a lot of things in this chapter that justify the 'T' rating; though I didn't exactly know what direction this would take when I first started, I knew I had some dark plans. The 'T' rating for this chapter is minor language, mentions of suicide, mentions of child abuse/drug abuse, and violent tendencies. I don't believe it's triggering, as I tried for as little detail as I could at those points, to avoid just that. Read by your own discretion; and don't say I didn't warn you. xD Anyways, there will be one more chapter after this one; but for now, enjoy! C:
Chapter Eleven - Downhill Death
The loud clanging of metal bars abruptly snapped Drew out of his flashback. A tall, muscular man held a set of dangling keys, and was unlocking the gate to his cell.
"You have 45 minutes outside for lunch; and don't try anything funny, or it'll be me after you," the man warned.
Drew nodded in comply, and followed the man out of his cell. Several other equally-as-large men stood outside the surrounding cells, rounding up other prisoners and offering the same threats as punishment for misconduct. They followed the guards through the cell block and out a heavy metal door to the heavily-guarded lawn behind the prison. It was a semi-large space; enough for about 20-25 prisoners to fit comfortably inside. They had to be taken outside in shifts, for more reasons than one. A very tall, very high-voltage electric fence enclosed them, humming threateningly. Despite the electrified fence, a muscular guard stood with his arms crossed every 10 feet or so, completely eliminating any chance of anybody escaping. The single door they exited out of was guarded by two more strong-looking men; their arms were also crossed defensively over their chests. They looked somewhere off into the distance with hard eyes.
Drew stepped out onto the lawn and accepted the brown paper lunch bag offered to him, mumbling a quick 'thanks'. He quickly glanced around at prisoners who were forming into small groups and walking off to eat. He abruptly decided he didn't really want to be sociable, so he hurried to a corner under a small maple tree. He sat down underneath it and leaned against the trunk, silently pulling a turkey sandwich, apple, bottled water, and a packaged brownie-type thing from the lunch sack. He opened the baggie with the sandwich and took a bite, glancing up at the sky. It was partly-cloudy, but a few beams of sun peaked through the clouds. It reminded him of a certain day, about three years after the find of their family place. He was 13, and his sister had just turned 17.
Greg and Linda Bowden had just returned from the doctor's office. They sat at the kitchen table, talking in quiet tones. They had bad news to tell Scarlett, Drew, and Noah; but they didn't know how to tell it. Rain quietly drummed off the roof, ironically completing the mood they were about to set.
"Scarlett! Drew!" Greg called, standing from the chair and walking to the base of the staircase.
"Yeah?" Scarlett yelled back, turning down her radio.
"Can you and Drew come down here for a few minutes? Your mother and I... Have something to tell you." They would tell Noah, too, but they wanted to tell him separately. Noah had only just turned 9, and he wouldn't understand everything yet; of course, nobody really understood everything; but Scarlett and Drew would understand more of what would be... happening in the near future. Yes, they would tell Noah shortly.
Scarlett noted the seriousness of her father's tone, and quickly complied, shoving her AP Calculus book to the side and grabbing Drew on her way down.
"Coming!" she called back nonchalantly. Her and Drew walked into the kitchen to meet the serious faces of their parents. There was something else in their gaze, too... Fear? Scarlett quickly concluded that no, it could not be fear. Of course not, everything was fine! She settled on the idea that the subject matter was probably something about their grades, trying to ignore the fact that both her and Drew's grades were fine.
She glanced over at Drew to see if he picked up the potential fear in their parents gaze as well; and from the way he fiddled with his fingers, she guessed he had.
"I, uh... What's up?" Drew asked cautiously, glancing up at his parents. Scarlett glanced up, too, briefly meeting her father's almost-unreadable gaze. He motioned for them to sit down, and they quickly obeyed, taking seats next to each other. Their parents sat side-by-side across from them, holding each other's hand. On the table in front of them lay a series of papers, with medical terms unknown to Scarlett or Drew.
"Is, um, everything okay?" Scarlett inquired nervously, twisting a strand of her golden-blonde hair around her finger.
"Your mother and I just got back from the doctor's office," Greg began, speaking for them both, "And the results for your mother were... well, they weren't good."
"So... What... Were the results?" Scarlett asked, biting her lip nervously. Drew looked down at his lap, suddenly very interested in the seam of his jeans.
"Your mother has stage-four breast cancer."
Both Scarlett and Drew's heads snapped up in shock as dread began to fill them. Though neither of them paid much attention to the medical world, they knew what that diagnosis meant; they knew what was probably inevitable, though they quickly pushed the looming thoughts away.
"Is it... Can they cure it?" Scarlett stammered, feeling a lump begin to rise in her throat.
Linda spoke up nervously, wishing she didn't have to relay this information.
"Radiation, chemotherapy, or both will be tried, but... It's invasive, meaning it has spread and will keep spreading. It's also HER2-positive, which basically means it's very aggressive. There are medications and such for that, which we can try, too..."
She quickly glanced down at the papers, hoping Scarlett and Drew were oblivious to the medical terms printed all over the papers. Several things were bolded, including 'T4 N3 M1', 'invasive', and 'distant'. Such a series of terms had meant little-to-nothing to her less than a few hours ago; now it felt like a death-sentence. All of those terms essentially spelled out how serious this disease was. They all stated that the cancer was large, it had spread into the lymph nodes and surrounding parts of the body, and it would continue to spread until it, well... Killed her. Of course she would fight it; she would fight as hard as she could. Deep down, though, she knew her fate; but that didn't mean she wouldn't go down without a fight.
"How... How long...?" Scarlett tried to stammer out the question that was burning both her and Drew's minds, but the lump in her throat grew, silencing her.
"They gave me about 6 months," Linda answered softly. Scarlett hadn't finished the question, but Linda knew what was being asked.
6 months. It was currently early October, which gave them until about March. This realization struck them both at the same time. The tears that were brimming Scarlett's green eyes began to spill over, and she quickly got up and ran back up the stairs to her room. Linda wanted to stop her, but she knew Scarlett needed time to herself; this would be hard on everyone. Drew quietly excused himself, turning to go up the stairs after his sister.
Scarlett ran into her room, not even bothering to close the door. She flopped down onto her bed, hot tears streaming down her face. She cried into her pillow, not caring that her mascara and eyeliner were ruining the white pillow case. Drew fought back tears of his own as he slowly walked into Scarlett's room, sitting down beside her. She sat up when she saw him, still suppressing sobs. She slid an arm around her brother, and Drew allowed a few tears to escape his own eyes.
"I... I want to go... To our family place once... Once more with mom," Drew choked, emotion over-taking him.
Scarlett just nodded in response, pulling her arm back and putting her face in her hands, allowing herself to lose control for a few minutes as reality struck: a year from now, their mother would not be here.
Drew sighed at the painful memory, as small pricks of pain stabbed at him. Pain was what always transferred to anger. Pain was what drove him to murder. Pain took the wheel, allowing no space for any reason or thought.
He set his sandwich down, suddenly losing his appetite. He cracked open the bottled water, taking a long sip before allowing his thoughts to drift again.
Ever since that day, everything in Drew's life seemed to go on a downhill slope. His mother had held on for longer than clinically expected; she fought hard for 8 months, but the cancer eventually over-took her in mid-May. His only small consolation was that she died in her sleep; at peace and free of the pain and worry of her illness. Drew had only just turned 14 when she died; and as if losing his mother wasn't hard enough, he lost his sister, too. Scarlett.
They had all become depressed to some extent after Linda's death, but Scarlett had it the worst. She quit all the sports she played and the clubs she had joined; her grades dropped from straight-A's to C's and D's, and she lost most of her friends from being excessively crabby and unfriendly. She often locked herself in her room after school, blasting music and eventually crying herself to sleep. Eventually, she felt like she couldn't take it anymore; she ended her own life. She stole one of the long, sharp knives from the kitchen, shoving it under her mattress until everyone had gone to sleep. She scrawled a quick note onto a piece of notebook paper, pausing every now-and-then as she struggled with what to say.
Dad and Drew,
I'm so sorry. I just can't take this anymore; it just hurts too bad. Please don't blame yourselves; it wasn't your fault. My mind was made up, and you couldn't have said or done anything to change it. It was my decision. And don't worry about me; I'll be with mom. I love you both so much, though. Please don't forget that.
I love you and I'm sorry.
Love, Scarlett
Fresh tears blurred her vision as she folded the piece of paper and propped it up on her freshly-made bed, completely in clean-sight. She took the knife and hid away in the bathroom, filling the bathtub with hot water and slicing deep into her skin until her life faded away and she closed her eyes for the last time.
In a matter of months, he had lost his mother, his sister, and in a sense, his father, too. His father was not dead, but what he turned into was almost worse. There were countless times where Drew wished his father were dead, too. After Linda died and Scarlett took her life, Greg was almost always at the bar or drinking somewhere. He pretty much dried up most of their excess funds on liquor and drugs, and they eventually had to move to a small apartment. Greg would often come home drunk and take his anger and pain out on Drew. So many scrapes and bruises were inflicted on him by his drunk father, that he soon lost count. When Greg wasn't drunk, he'd be passed out on the couch; and when he awoke, Drew would hide and watch what was left of his father stumble off to another bar again. Drew would often run off and stay at a friend's house for days on end; anything to get away from his father and the hell that was supposedly his 'home'. Once Drew got his license, he would frequently take his mother's car and drive around aimlessly, avoiding going home at all costs. When the glorious age of 18 finally arrived, he took his first opportunity to get out once and for all. He moved across the city and took what was left in his bank account with him. If he had owned the funds, he would have moved across the country; unfortunately, he couldn't afford such things.
Drew took another swig of water and thought about the last time he had gone to the family's special place. He wanted to go there and reminisce and live in the past. He wanted desperately to hang onto the last bit of his whole family he had left.
Drew walked through the familiar forest, hoping it wouldn't rain. The skies were dark despite it being close to noon, and the wind carried that certain before-a-storm chill. The cool air smelt vaguely like smoke and charred wood, but Drew was too lost in thought to take much note of it. As he descended down into the narrow ravine he pushed past the over-grown weeds and vines, expecting to be welcomed by the beautiful river and white rose bushes and pretty melodies of the birds. What greeted his shocked eyes, though, was far from the beautiful scene that had so often welcomed him growing up. The large, flat rocks at the edge of what was left of the clearing looked the same, but that's about where the resemblence of the memories from his childhpod stopped.
The once-clear, sparkling river was now polluted with black, charred wood. In fact, such a large quantity of the fire-engulfed remains were left, that the river ran almost black. Dead fish and singed plant life also floated near the surface with nowhere to go, seeing as the river was blocked in several spots by fallen trees and charred build-up.
The grass, which had once been green and lush, was scorched badly; the remains were yellow or brown. The ground was strewn with burnt debris; some of which still smelled faintly like smoke. Most of the trees were, as a generous term, at least singed. The leaves that had once been green and healthy were dried and curling in on themselves, slowly dropping to the baked ground beneath. No birds were in the air, and an eerie silence was all that followed. Drew didn't think silence could be this loud.
He let his eyes wander around, willing himself to not look at the rose bushes. He eventually stole a glance, and what he saw nearly stopped his heart. The bushes were darkened and dried out, and several branches were already dead, fallen to the ground in defeat. The roses themselves were nearly black, both from the polluted water and being parched by flame. The pure, beautiful white roses that his mother had loved so much were gone, only to be crudely replaced by blackened remains and dried-out leaves. He slowly walked over and touched one. Even his gently, careful touch dislodged the rose from its precarious position on the remains of the bush. It twirled to the ground and rested at his feet, threatening to crumble into a million pieces at even the slightest breeze.
Drew slowly turned and surveyed the once-lovely area with shock and horror. The horror quickly turned to anger, which just as abruptly turned to pain. The last remaining tie to him and all the wonderful memories of their entire family... was gone.
Suddenly, all of his built-up pain and anger from the last few years exploded to life. His sheer-yet-well-hidden jealousy of Natara and Bethany, his mother's terrible illness and death, Scarlett's suicide, his father's drunk and abusive tendencies, his constant feelings of inadequacy, and other things he hadn't even realized he had kept inside; they all came rushing out in a series of angry tears and actions. He let out an enraged yell and picked up a large rock, chucking it at a nearby tree. Furiously, he turned and stormed away from the place, back to his car. He got in and slammed the door, and forcefully collided his foot with the gas pedal. He careened out of the forest and back to his shabby apartment, knowing what he would do. He would most likely regret it later, and it would definitely earn him some prison time if he were caught; but at the moment, he didn't give a single damn. He knew what he was going to do, and he would make sure it would happen.