Author's note: I wasn't going to continue, but I gave up to temptation, since many people asked me to go on.
Author's note(2): I elevated the rating of this one to R, because it's kind of heavy.
Now with the story...
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PART II
It's been a long time since I watched the sunrise from my living room window. I used to do it all the time. It's beautiful. Especially in days like these, after a night of heavy rain. It seems so peaceful... quiet. You can see the early sunrays shooting through the dense fog, creating this incredible pattern of light and color. Like in a Salvador Dali painting.
Today, this spectacle holds a new meaning, knowing it would never have come to me, had I finished what I started yesterday.
The demons are gone now. Not forever though. I know they're hiding somewhere, waiting for the right time to engulf me in darkness again, blinding me to beauty. All beauty. But they're gone now.
As I sit here, my mind keeps going through the events that happened yesterday. From the news of Dr. Vertes's death, to the feelings of shame and guilt, which kept me awake until now. I feel shame, for being so weak and selfish. And guilt, for not thinking of her. My angel.
My mind keeps going over and over that moment, when she hugged me, and uttered words of concern for me. Words so full of emotion. Even with her seizures, I've never seen her so helpless and vulnerable. She will never know how much it hurt me, seeing her like that, knowing that I was the cause of it.
I keep creating this scene in my head, where she enters my apartment, only to find me there, by my computer table, with my brains blown off. How could I think of doing this to her? I keep saying to myself that I wasn't thinking at the time. But it's no good. The guilt won't leave me.
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People say, that we are what we know. That our personalities are constantly being reshaped with every new experience. I guess that is true. Eyes-only would've never been born if it weren't for the pulse. Out of all the events that happened right after the pulse, Michael's death changed me the most. The memories of that day still haunt me.
-Michael's Story-
Mike was a good friend. We were nothing alike, which sometimes pissed me off. I was this aspiring journalist, already unconformed with the injustices of the world. Maybe it was a rich boy's guilt at the time. But than there was Mike. He couldn't give a rat's ass about anything that didn't wear a dress. His priorities in life were three: Girls, Beer and Girls. As long as those still existed, the hell with everything else.
I didn't make much of it, when I heard about his disappearance. In my mind, he was probably on his way to Mexico with some chick he met at a bar somewhere. But that all changed when I saw him.
I've been running over and over the footage of the last riot, which happened near the Seattle City Hall. By some strange coincidence, the footage ended before the part where the student protesters "allegedly" began shooting at the police, which so innocently returned fire, killing over 22 students. What was more incredible, is that no police officers were wounded.
It was probably the 15th time I viewed the flic, when suddenly my heart sank. His face caught my attention. He was in the corner of video, running away from the scene, helping some girl who was having difficulties walking. At some point, you could see him looking back, at the confusion. I could swear, that even though it was small on the screen, I could see the fear in his face.
I had to know if he was one of the victims. I started inquiring the police on the whereabouts of the bodies of the students. After exhausting searches, and a good deal of bribe, I was taken to a place, where the unidentified bodies were being brought.
Nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see.
It was a warehouse, near the docks. Even from the outside, you were aware of the putrid stench that came from inside those walls. When I close my eyes, I can still see the bodies. Hundreds of them. Some half covered with white sheets, others fully exposed, piled up like sacks of potatoes.
There were men and women of all ages. Even children. Some bodies seemed to be there for days, hence the intolerable smell of rot.
Every part of my body screamed for me to get out of there. But I couldn't go back then. I started roaming across the endless corridors formed by the corpses, trying to avoid stepping on any body parts. Examining the bodies best I could, trying to find a familiar face, but hoping not to. I had to use all my strength not to give in to the sickness that was building inside me. It must have taken no more than ten minutes to find him. The longest ten minutes of my life. His body was naked and uncovered. It seemed so lifeless. Only a shell. You couldn't notice any signs of wounds except for a tiny hole near his belly.
- End of Michael's Story-
Now here I am. Eyes-only is back. After ten years, I may finally have the chance to bring the people behind all those massacres, to justice. At least some of them.
It will be good for me to focus on an objective for a change. To get my mind off of Max and my problems. I know she's trying her best to be there for me, but sometimes she just irritates the hell out of me, acting like nothing's happened. Like my life doesn't have to change because I'm in the chair again. The hell it doesn't ! Everything's different now.
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When I was young. Whenever I went my uncle's cabin, I would always climb to this cliff located a mile away from the house. It was the highest one in the area, so it gave us a 360 degrees view of the region. From there, we could see the cabin, the lakes, and the sunset. I don't recall ever seeing a sunset so beautiful. I would go alone there sometimes, and watched as the sky changed slowly from clear blue, to crimson, and then black.
I spent the whole week, thinking of the trip Max and I were supposed to make. I saw ourselves hiking through woods near my uncle's cabin, going all the way up to the cliff. And there, I would take her in my arms and kiss her, as the sun faded in the horizon. They're just memories of moments I'll never have. It's all different now. Forgive me if I don't feel like going anymore, but rolling my wheelchair over unleveled terrain, with Max looming over me, is not my idea of fun. I know she'll be mad. But I won't go.
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I've been having a hard time trying to find sector passes, which I need, in order to investigate a witness who was present in one of the massacres. When Max reminded me of this trip we were supposed to take and showed me the VIP sector passes she worked so hard to get, I figured, Cape Haven sounds like a nice enough place. As long as Max has her S'mores, she'll be happy. And it's not like I'm leading her to danger or anything...