Chapter 1."PTSD"
The early morning sunlight, soft and diffuse, gives way to the first intense rays of the day. The genuine warmth mirrored the excitement for a forged oath.
In this light, the water evaporated in slow waves, waves that ready in the gentle breeze, flowing upward to white-puffed clouds, ships of white in the blue above. So the opera from the trees becomes all the more potent as if these golden rays are their conductor's wand, and together they are the song that calls forth the spring.
"Congratulations."
"You two are beautiful."
"I wish you happiness."
The cheers warmed the wedding than the sun ever could and rose around him like bubbles in invisible champagne. The man stood from his chair and gazed lovingly at his soon-to-be wife. Her beautiful face was concealed under the veil.
He touched the edges of her veil and slowly pulled back.
"It hurts." She cried. The man could not help but scream. The bride was charred. Her eyes were melting down to her cheeks. Her left arm, up to the elbow, was missing. Her head has a couple of hairs still safe. Her lower half was gone. The beautiful spring was replaced with darkness filled with fire and soot, smoke rose high to the sky, and it almost suffocated him, and he shot straight up like a bolt of lightning.
In pitch darkness, he felt a cold sweat wash over his skin. It took him a moment to realize where he was.
He could see rays of moonlight peeking through the window. The room was dark and chilly. His pillow was all wet, like he had just taken a shower.
The room was small but served him well for his needs.
As usual, he could not sleep well, and he could not tell how long has it been since he had an undisturbed sleep.
It's been a month since that fateful day, and vivid as ever within his mind.
He just wished he could forget about the world and just allow himself to sleep for a few peaceful minutes, but sleep would bring the dreams and those images impossible to erase, no matter how much he desired to rid himself of them.
So, in turn, he barely sleeps for just three or four tiresome hours.
He heaved a sigh and sat at the edge of the bed. He rested his head in his hands.
He was so lost, confused. Where should he go from here? What does he do? He didn't know, most certainly not. The night was early or late?
He did not remember. All the time, he had seemed to be burning itself up like gas in a brick oven. His malice was leaving… a side effect.
That cannot be right. There is no way he could possibly forget this. He was reduced to nothing in a matter of minutes.
He glanced up and saw his reflection in the mirror. He had white hair and signs of a scar over his right eye. There was an evident strain and discoloration from the lack of sleep in his eyes. Rest was a luxury he was unable to afford, not yet.
A scowl broke across his face. He left the bed and punched the mirror with all of his might. Large cracks formed like a spider's web.
His tears were spent as he started to pull out bits of the mirror from his knuckles.
His breath hitched in his throat. Finally, he cannot take this anymore. The man needed some fresh air.
He checked his watch, and it read four in the morning.
He heaved a sigh and took a black hat from the dresser. He opened the drawer and took out sunglasses.
It is something he must do, just to be safe from anyone who might recognize him.
Frost grew on the surface all around him as he walked out of the motel he resided in.
He had a hot tea clasped in his hand. The ground had a slight white color, making it seem like a white river adorned with frozen plants and flowers.
His boots cracked as he walked down the steps as if he was walking on a shard of glass. The street was empty. The silence felt like if a needle fell, he would hear it.
The hazy horizon magnified the street lights and late-night stores. Exhaling slowly, the man could see his breath and enjoyed the presence of the fog.
Kept things simple. Only need to worry about the things in his immediate surroundings.
In the wind, the fog waved and danced around the man. It was almost like skeletons pranced around the man, taunting him.
A vain attempt came from the man tugging on his collar to further block his jaw.
Still, he enjoyed it that way. He can be on his own without pedestrians interrupting his thoughts.
Loneliness was a great company he never imagined. So he kept on walking at the break of dawn, watching the sun's light eliminate the foggy darkness that befallen the city. The fog almost warped his perception of time until he spotted the cafe he had frequented for a few days now. The place had a large sign shining like Christmas lights.
There he found his bench near the entrance and took a seat. Slowly he sipped his warm tea, looking at nothing in particular.
There he felt at peace.
"Excuse me!" A voice called out to him. He glanced up, and there she was, a charred corpse reaching with her hand toward him. 'It hurts,' she cried.
He jolted back, and tea spilled all over his trousers. He whimpered. His voice echoed within the pristine silence as he felt his shoulder rack and his entire body shiver.
The man stumbled back from the charred corpse on the bench before him. "Sara, oh my Sara." He removed his sunglasses, but she was still there.
His heart thumped loudly in his eardrums as his blood ran cold. Unbeknown to him was that someone observed him from the sidelines, seeing his mind slowly shatter and break into pieces of fragile glass, which was expected for a human, going through grief.
He jolted back when a gentle hand grabbed hold of his shoulder. His eyes widened in fear.
Behind him stood a woman with a layered and Pixi haircut, chocolate brown hair, and heartshaped face. Her ocean-blue eyes looked concerned.
"Are you . . . Alright?" The woman asked.
A face he knew all too well, his eyes rolled back, and everything went black.
He heard voices, far away. Followed by something cold placed on his forehead.
"Ca...me." He couldn't tell what this person said. They sounded like he was under the sea.
"There is...plea... no..."
"You better...tha...come."
He felt someone grab his collar, and like he was pulled out of the water, he heard them.
"Can you hear me, mister?" A man called out to him. His voice held a sense of urgency. "Help us in the way. Try to stay with me."
He felt groggy as if he had been sleeping for a hundred years, with no strength to lift up a finger.
He woke up. He didn't know why he was asleep anymore. He just knew that he had to wake up. And when he was awake, the pungent smell of disinfectant instantly invaded his nostrils.
The room was silent apart from a heavy sound that kept droning on and on, as though it were an all-consuming grating, humming along with this consistent and odd rate. Soon he realized what exactly it was.
Opening his eyes, he soon realized the noise was a machine hooked into electricity to his left side.
It was the source of the overpowering sound, and beneath it, he could hear a chirping monitor calling to him.
He glanced around and took in the faded blue and white color schemed hospital bedroom. How long had he been here? He shut his eyes, his brain fluttering through past memories.
He felt something in his right arm, a freezing piece of equipment comprising plastic and metal components. It was an IV line.
His whole body hurt as someone beat him up, and for the first time in however long, he started crying.
He roiled in bed as a prison of self-loathing, wishing the world to end rather than this sea of endless jagged currents stabbing at his muscles.
Suddenly, he felt something cold touch his nose, and this winter radiated through him, spreading throughout his body and quelling the horrid flames.
Given to a cradle of relief, finally, slowly but surely, he drifted back to sleep.
.
.
.
Now he was heard in this place, this turgid empty space, and though it pained him, his eyes fluttered open yet again.
His thoughts unraveled in a million different directions.
How many hours had passed since he'd woken up last? Out of the corner of his blurred eye, he could see the faint outline of new sheets.
What had happened to put him here? He couldn't remember that anymore. Who had brought him here?
A man with brown hair and strange hazel eyes emerged through the archway of the door dressed as a nurse.
The outfit was green.
Glenn stared at him, his frosty gaze interrogating him.
A few minutes passed. Eventually, the man finally broke the silence.
"Forgive me if I startled you," he said, "I only came to check up on you. Nice time to wake up."
The silver-haired man remained silent. Deep down, he wondered if this nurse knew who he was? He could no longer tell.
As a matter of fact, he was almost so confused as to be incapable of thought. It was a wonder he remembered who he was.
"I'm Mark, by the way. Mark Rollins. I'm your nurse."
Finally snapped out of it, "Henry," he replied quietly.
"Nice to meet you, Henry. It was almost a touch and go for you there if that woman didn't find you." Mark replied." You were dehydrated and terribly weak like you haven't eaten anything for a whole month."
Glenn almost chuckled at what the man said. Was it really that bad? He couldn't remember or care for that matter.
"It has been the best sleep I had since forever as well." He answered.
The man took a chair next to the door and used it to sit next to Glenn's bed. Then, he let out a sigh, "I'm gonna take some tests, okay?"
"Eh . . . alright," the weak man said.
The nurse took a small flashlight and waved it in front of Glenn's eye, pressing his thumb upon the man's upper eyelid to keep it open.
He did so with the other eye, then felt for a heartbeat using a stethoscope.
All normal. His temperature was clammy, but that was to be expected.
Mark made sure everything was fine, tucking the weak man back into bed as he placed the sheets back over him.
"Please, rest. If you need anything, ring the bell." The nurse pointed at something up in the bed, a grey remote connected to the wall.
"You said a woman found me. Who was she?" Glenn asked the man before he left.
The nurse paused for a moment, trying to recall her name.
"I think she said her name is Rebecca. She made sure you were taken care of before she left."
Rebecca . . .
Where did he hear that name before?
Once again, he was left in silence as the nurse closed the door behind him. He lamented his pathetic state. This isn't living.
Someone had to pay for what happened. Someone betrayed him, and he had to find out who.
He wouldn't do anything if he surrendered to grieve and allowed it to kill him. He frowned as he finally made up his mind. But, first, he must recover and start his quest for vengeance.
No one will be safe from him. They all going to pay.
Rebecca Chambers stood there at the hospital entrance, shaking.
She witnessed a scene too much, watching the paramedics secure the man on a stretcher and get him inside the ambulance.
The look in his eyes will be stuck in her mind for a long time. The pure fear and longing she saw within them.
But still, his face felt familiar to her. She couldn't remember who exactly.
"Miss Chambers, time to go." A man called out to her down at the parking lot.
Thank you for reading. That will be it for now. Hope you liked this.
Thank you The95Will.