CHAPTER 16 - The Most Deadly of Flashbacks.
"I'm here on location at the famous Valley High as the city of Crescent Valley prepares to commence their 50th Anniversary of the town's most tragic accident. It was on this day five decades ago, that Royce Clayton, Valley High's star baseball player lost his life in a drag race that ended in a terrible crash." The female reporter from Start-Up News droned on about how no one had been able to break his record of home runs still, and how the organizers were going about the preparations, but Royce wasn't really listening anymore. It wasn't as if he heard the words as much as it was as if they were being imprinted in his mind as they were spoken. An odd feeling nevertheless.
"Clayton, that's my name. Royce Clayton." The Prince let the thought sink in before turning his attention to the rest of the room. No one had seen or heard him enter, they all seemed as shocked as he was.
Something brushed past Royce and Broadway crept into the room. She looked alright, considering, and just as stunned as he family. The news lady started talking again, and the Prince resumed his gaze to the TV.
"This is the site of the accident. As you can see, mourners and citizens are all around me, placing bouquets and candles at the side of the road; a tradition the Clayton family started after Royce's death."
The picture switched to an elderly lady lighting a candle and kneeling before a grave. She reached out a wrinkled, yet elegant hand and brushed away a few dead leaves before standing and walking towards the camera. The reporter began speaking as the cameras left the graveyard, a scene filmed earlier that day.
"Elizabeth Clayton is the only member of her family left alive, and the pain of her brother's death still fresh, even after all these years."
"It was a surprise to all of us when Royce died; the whole community was devastated." Elizabeth Clayton's soft voice held great sorrow as she spoke, and he green eyes, identical to Royce's, glinted with the sheen of tears. "He always did think he was invincible, though and it was one of the things I hated him for. But we were very close and it took me a very long time to get over his passing, and thee isn't a day that goes by when I don't ask God to keep him safe so I can see him again."
Royce didn't know whether it was seeing his sister for the first time in fifty years, hearing her voice, or the whole God-bit, but he was shaking. He clutched the handle of his bat until his knuckles went white and even then he didn't let go. He wanted to run, to get out of the room and forget he had ever seen any of it, but he knew that he needed to remember. Part of him needed to remember what happened.
The Picture switched once more to a photograph of a pretty teenage girl. It was a headshot and printed in black and white. She had long dark hair and eyes that sparkled, even through the paper.
"Perhaps out of everyone in Crescent Valley, Freiya Jones was struck the hardest by Royce's death. Elizabeth remembers her story." Again, the reporters voice narrated the pictures in her fake-sympathetic tones.
"Freiya and Royce were high school sweethearts, and it wasn't very hard to imagine why. She was the school cheerleader and Royce was the star athlete so they kind of went together like peaces and cream. My brother was very hard to read when it came to these sorts of things and he kept his feelings to himself, but Freiya loved my brother dearly. She adored him more than anything, more than life itself, and I think that's what drove her to follow him"
Royce felt the waves of hot and cold all over his body once more and than his mouth went bone dry. "Dead..? Freiya..killed herself..when I died?" He tried to understand what he had just been told. Sure, he liked Freiya a lot, but to KILL yourself?! Royce couldn't understand. He felt very sleepy all of a sudden, like this was all some kind of bad dream or sick joke and he was going to wake up any moment now. Moments turned to seconds, but he remained in the doorway of the lounge with the same dumb expression on his face. Anguish, disbelief, pain. Sorrow. Royce willed himself to look away, told himself that enough was enough. He had seen all he could take, but a part of him still refused to look away. To take his eyes off the picture that was on the screen - a picture of him, pristine and handsome. The way he remembered himself looking. More photographs of him, some in uniform, and some family, some just with friends. And then, photographs from after the accident. Pictures of his car. Pictures of a body under a white sheet. Pictures of the wreckage. Then the news lady was talking again.
"Witnesses from the time remember the accident clearly, watching the horror unfold as they watched from the side of the road. What started out as a seemingly harmless drag race, ended in death. Behind me is the sharp stretch of road citizens had always nicknamed the Devils' Elbow. It was this turn that forever changed the lives of all who were there that day."
A 3-D computer generated model of the road was brought up on screen to detail the events of the night. There was the road and a car.
"Reports of people that night say that when Royce approached the turn, he failed to brake in time and swerved left instead. The result flipped the car onto it's right side. The speed and force of the impact caused Royce to be jarred from the drivers seat and trapped under the right side of the car, while his left remained inside. He was dragged under the body until the car came to a stop and finally burst into flames. The coroner reports state that Royce died on impact."
Click
That was it. He couldn't take it anymore.
"Yeah, too bad I didn't die on impact!" Royce cried angrily. In one swift motion, the room had turned to gawk at the Torn Prince. "If I had of died on impact, do you think I would be here? A trapped and tortured soul?! All I ever wanted to do was forget! Forget that night ever happened, and to have it all come backing one pitch-" Royce's voice broke slightly and he began to shake more violently. The heavy bat slipped from his fingers and he wiped another trickle of blood from his lips wearily.
The room began to spin around Royce. Slowly at first, but it quickly gained speed. He clutched his head a staggered forward, the room nothing more than a blur of colour and vapor trails. He felt himself falling, but something warm grabbed him and caught him half way. Someone was holding him, telling him that it was alright. Someone who smelled like vanilla. The Prince was out of energy and was already fighting to stay conscious.
"Broadway..?"
"Yeah Prince, I'm here." Upon hearing her voice, the Prince let his head fall forward into the crook of her neck before finally succumbing to the darkness fighting for his vision.
"I'm here on location at the famous Valley High as the city of Crescent Valley prepares to commence their 50th Anniversary of the town's most tragic accident. It was on this day five decades ago, that Royce Clayton, Valley High's star baseball player lost his life in a drag race that ended in a terrible crash." The female reporter from Start-Up News droned on about how no one had been able to break his record of home runs still, and how the organizers were going about the preparations, but Royce wasn't really listening anymore. It wasn't as if he heard the words as much as it was as if they were being imprinted in his mind as they were spoken. An odd feeling nevertheless.
"Clayton, that's my name. Royce Clayton." The Prince let the thought sink in before turning his attention to the rest of the room. No one had seen or heard him enter, they all seemed as shocked as he was.
Something brushed past Royce and Broadway crept into the room. She looked alright, considering, and just as stunned as he family. The news lady started talking again, and the Prince resumed his gaze to the TV.
"This is the site of the accident. As you can see, mourners and citizens are all around me, placing bouquets and candles at the side of the road; a tradition the Clayton family started after Royce's death."
The picture switched to an elderly lady lighting a candle and kneeling before a grave. She reached out a wrinkled, yet elegant hand and brushed away a few dead leaves before standing and walking towards the camera. The reporter began speaking as the cameras left the graveyard, a scene filmed earlier that day.
"Elizabeth Clayton is the only member of her family left alive, and the pain of her brother's death still fresh, even after all these years."
"It was a surprise to all of us when Royce died; the whole community was devastated." Elizabeth Clayton's soft voice held great sorrow as she spoke, and he green eyes, identical to Royce's, glinted with the sheen of tears. "He always did think he was invincible, though and it was one of the things I hated him for. But we were very close and it took me a very long time to get over his passing, and thee isn't a day that goes by when I don't ask God to keep him safe so I can see him again."
Royce didn't know whether it was seeing his sister for the first time in fifty years, hearing her voice, or the whole God-bit, but he was shaking. He clutched the handle of his bat until his knuckles went white and even then he didn't let go. He wanted to run, to get out of the room and forget he had ever seen any of it, but he knew that he needed to remember. Part of him needed to remember what happened.
The Picture switched once more to a photograph of a pretty teenage girl. It was a headshot and printed in black and white. She had long dark hair and eyes that sparkled, even through the paper.
"Perhaps out of everyone in Crescent Valley, Freiya Jones was struck the hardest by Royce's death. Elizabeth remembers her story." Again, the reporters voice narrated the pictures in her fake-sympathetic tones.
"Freiya and Royce were high school sweethearts, and it wasn't very hard to imagine why. She was the school cheerleader and Royce was the star athlete so they kind of went together like peaces and cream. My brother was very hard to read when it came to these sorts of things and he kept his feelings to himself, but Freiya loved my brother dearly. She adored him more than anything, more than life itself, and I think that's what drove her to follow him"
Royce felt the waves of hot and cold all over his body once more and than his mouth went bone dry. "Dead..? Freiya..killed herself..when I died?" He tried to understand what he had just been told. Sure, he liked Freiya a lot, but to KILL yourself?! Royce couldn't understand. He felt very sleepy all of a sudden, like this was all some kind of bad dream or sick joke and he was going to wake up any moment now. Moments turned to seconds, but he remained in the doorway of the lounge with the same dumb expression on his face. Anguish, disbelief, pain. Sorrow. Royce willed himself to look away, told himself that enough was enough. He had seen all he could take, but a part of him still refused to look away. To take his eyes off the picture that was on the screen - a picture of him, pristine and handsome. The way he remembered himself looking. More photographs of him, some in uniform, and some family, some just with friends. And then, photographs from after the accident. Pictures of his car. Pictures of a body under a white sheet. Pictures of the wreckage. Then the news lady was talking again.
"Witnesses from the time remember the accident clearly, watching the horror unfold as they watched from the side of the road. What started out as a seemingly harmless drag race, ended in death. Behind me is the sharp stretch of road citizens had always nicknamed the Devils' Elbow. It was this turn that forever changed the lives of all who were there that day."
A 3-D computer generated model of the road was brought up on screen to detail the events of the night. There was the road and a car.
"Reports of people that night say that when Royce approached the turn, he failed to brake in time and swerved left instead. The result flipped the car onto it's right side. The speed and force of the impact caused Royce to be jarred from the drivers seat and trapped under the right side of the car, while his left remained inside. He was dragged under the body until the car came to a stop and finally burst into flames. The coroner reports state that Royce died on impact."
Click
That was it. He couldn't take it anymore.
"Yeah, too bad I didn't die on impact!" Royce cried angrily. In one swift motion, the room had turned to gawk at the Torn Prince. "If I had of died on impact, do you think I would be here? A trapped and tortured soul?! All I ever wanted to do was forget! Forget that night ever happened, and to have it all come backing one pitch-" Royce's voice broke slightly and he began to shake more violently. The heavy bat slipped from his fingers and he wiped another trickle of blood from his lips wearily.
The room began to spin around Royce. Slowly at first, but it quickly gained speed. He clutched his head a staggered forward, the room nothing more than a blur of colour and vapor trails. He felt himself falling, but something warm grabbed him and caught him half way. Someone was holding him, telling him that it was alright. Someone who smelled like vanilla. The Prince was out of energy and was already fighting to stay conscious.
"Broadway..?"
"Yeah Prince, I'm here." Upon hearing her voice, the Prince let his head fall forward into the crook of her neck before finally succumbing to the darkness fighting for his vision.