TITLE: Dear Diary
AUTHOR: cosmo-queen
E-MAIL: kewljewelz115@hotmail.com
RATING: PG
DISCLAIMER: Anything Alias related exists because genius burns for a man called JJ and co and so it rightfully belongs to him and not me. Sigh. So don't sue me because there's nothin' to gain! I wish I could come up with something that good though :) Perhaps one day I will, (I wish!) but for now, genius flickers so you'll have to make do with this :)
DISTRIBUTION: Please make sure you email me first otherwise I might cry :(
FEEDBACK: Be kind, be cruel, but make sure you review!!! Greatly appreciated!
SUMMARY: Francie's world comes tumbling down when the unexpected happens. While trying to remain strong, she thinks and these are her long, drawn-out thoughts. My first Alias fic so please R&R.
DEAR DIARY
Dear Diary
10th July
I thought the radio would help me. Music usually soothes me whenever I'm upset. I was expecting some sort of classical piece by Mozart or Beethoven on one of those classical music stations on AM. But someone, SOMEONE, changed the setting from AM to FM. I thought everyone would know by now how much I hated FM. Who would want to listen to songs with a lot of screaming and no meaning? But, dear diary, do you know what I did? I actually listened to the song that was playing. As much as I wanted to turn the radio off there and then, I couldn't bring myself to do so. It was so ironic that they were playing the song "Murder on the Dancefloor".
As I listened to the lyrics, it was as if someone had been at the nightclub, observing last week's disco and put pen to paper when the shooting started. Yes, this time last week, I was at that disco, having fun, and everything was still alright. Honestly though, dear diary, it was so uncanny how all the lyrics fitted into the events of that fateful night. I'd read about the song some time ago though, in some music review, so I know that it wasn't written among flying bullets and screaming and chaos. I'd really like to meet the person who actually did write the song though. I bet that they'd never believe their lyrics would turn into reality.
I'd also really like to meet the person who murdered my best friend. I wonder if they bought this song and then replayed it countless times, practicing what they were going to do over and over again, in accordance to the lyrics. Practice until the routine was perfect. I wonder if they requested the song at the disco, and then as soon as it started playing, started acting out their practiced routine, laughing as it all went according to plan. If they did do all this, I doubt if I'll ever meet them, because, though I can't deny it happened, I don't believe anyone in the world has a sick enough mind to do something as cold and ruthless as killing an innocent person, who just wanted to have some fun, at point-blank range.
I don't want to believe, dear diary, there is someone out there in the world, who is so evil and cruel. But I know there is. I don't think evil goes far enough to describe a person who would think about killing another person and then actually getting a gun and carrying out a premeditated attack. They stormed the disco. A disco, for crying out loud. You go to a disco to have fun, to dance, to sing, to relieve your mind from stress and be entertained for a few hours. You do not go to a disco to kill people! Whoever was behind this attack had a sick, sick mind and no conscience whatsoever, and I'll never understand or want to understand the thoughts going on inside their head, that led them to take an innocent life.
Then they took out the gun, a weapon of destruction and a weapon of so much pain, and reared its ugly head at innocent people. What troubles me most though, dear diary, is that someone would actually want to use that weapon of destruction and pain. Holding a gun and waving a gun around does, in no way, compare to actually using the gun. It does not even begin to compare with pulling the trigger and actually causing the destruction and the pain. Several shots rang out. People in the way were just blown away. The accuracy the murderer exhibited with that gun was frightening. It was like they practiced shooting at targets for fun, and were so driven for accuracy and aim that nothing but a single shot in the heart or the head, would do.
Those people in the way stood no chance, dear diary, no chance. My heart goes out to them. The moment that assassin looked at them they stood no chance. No chance to live, no chance to escape. The only thing that faced them from that moment on was death. At least it was quick. I hope, for their sake's, that it was painless. After those poor people dropped to the floor, I think most people came out of their paralysis and disbelief. That's when the screaming began. So high-pitched and unnatural. Some dived under tables, some dropped to the floor, pretending to be dead, and others tried to mend in with the dark surroundings, because that was the only thing they could do. But I don't think the assassin had any intention now of killing anyone apart from the person they intended to kill.
Those first few unlucky people were merely obstacles in the way. But now, at least for the assassin, it was time to do business. No more time to be wasted in killing unintended people when the target could perhaps escape. The target was clever, dear diary, and I thought, at the time, did stand a chance. I mean, bank robberies are pretty often and from what I've heard, there have been a few at Credit Dauphine. I told Syd to run, Syd told me to run. But I was the only one who heeded the advice. I ran for my life. At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. Syd and I both agreed on that. But I was a coward and she wasn't. When I ran, she stayed put, trying to bring down this assassin. While I started to blend in with the surroundings, she fought with the murderer and tried to get that gun away from them so it could cause no more destruction and no more pain. But it soon became evident, that like all before her, anyone who got in the way of this assassin stood no chance. No chance to live, no chance to escape.
The gun went off, close to her head. A single shot and Syd was dead. From where I stood, a shadow in the darkness, I saw her fall to the floor. The murderer kicked her lifeless body, laughed and walked casually out of sight, as if nothing had happened. The screaming restarted as people gathered around the dead people. Friends were frantically searching for each other, hoping and praying that one of their own were not among the dead. Some people's prayers were answered while others prayed in vain. However, for me, there was no point in hoping and there was no point in praying. I already knew my best friend was dead, dear diary. She was dead, having been shot dead in front of my eyes. And what did I do to try and prevent Syd's death? Nothing. I ran away.
I hope death was quick and painless, for Syd's sake. No-one deserves to be shot dead but least deserving of everyone was Syd. Most deserving was probably me. I finally found the strength in my legs to walk over to where she was lying. A few people wandered past Syd, shaking their heads. Whether it was because of sadness or because of anger, I don't know. I think many people realised that the murderer had purposely rampaged the disco. The murderer already knew their target was dancing away in the disco. The people who figured that out and had had friends killed because they were in Syd's path, might feel angry towards Syd. Blame her, as if it was her fault and otherwise none of this would've happened. The people who did not know would probably just walk past and feel remorse for another victim. But Syd was not to blame and Syd was not just another victim. She was a hero.
Eventually, I heard police sirens. I guess, in the end, someone finally decided to call the police. But the sound was just a blur. Maybe the police came quickly but to me, it seemed hours. As far as I was concerned, they didn't come fast enough. But I know the police wasn't to blame. What would they have been able to do anyway? If there was one thing I learnt very early after Syd's murder, it was that there was no point in blaming anyone, in pointing fingers at anyone. Until the police came and took Syd away, I sat next to her, wiping away the blood that didn't want to stop flowing out of the hole in her head. I brushed her hair with my fingers and whispered to her that everything would be okay. I tried to be a good friend, though there was no point, as Syd was dead, and being a good friend after she was dead didn't count, as far as I was concerned. Yes, I tried to be a good friend, as Syd lay dead and I keep asking myself this question, dear diary. If I was a true friend, why did I run away when my best friend needed me the most? Why did I leave her alone to die? Why didn't I try to protect her and try to make her run with me? Why didn't I die instead? At least then, maybe the assassin would've failed in who they set out to assassinate. But because of me, my best friend is dead.
I keep asking myself why this had to happen at all. I have no answers. But, dear diary, I have decided that I will get the answers that I need. I will find out why Syd was murdered, if it's the last thing I do. And I owe it to Syd. But now, at least, I have to go to sleep. No point in writing this all out, and having to replay it over and over in my mind. I've already written about it before and relived the whole night in slow motion. I don't want to torture myself with all this guilt again, though I deserve to be tortured. Tomorrow is Syd's funeral and I have to be ready and up to it, and I don't think a lack of sleep would help me to be ready. Will I ever be ready? Stupid question, of course not. But I want it to be over and done with so I can start to investigate why Syd was murdered, and when I have that figured out, I will bring her murderer to justice, dear diary. I swear I will.
^^ Like? Hate? I know it's a long and a bit slow but please tell me what you think so I know where to go if I decide to do a follow-up chapter. Any reviews will be greatly appreciated!!!^^