If These Walls Could Talk
Chapter 19/?
A 7th Heaven Fan Fic by Lucky Star and Jordan
~*Victoria*~
As soon as Simon closes the door, an incredible sense of calm falls over me, soft and warm. I rise from the bed and feel as if I'm floating, as if all the pain and heaviness in my heart have dissolved and now I am light as air.
I pick up my bag and go into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I'm not the same girl that I was only moments before, that terrified, hurting, panicking girl. I'm someone else, someone who knows what she's doing, who knows what she needs to do.
She turns on the water in the tub, waiting for it to grow warm before she stops the drain. While it fills, she reaches into her bag, in the side pocket that's hard to find, and pulls out her knife. It's cold in her hand at first, then warms to her flesh before the sets it on the counter and begins to remove her clothing. When she wears nothing but her underwear she turns off the water.
She picks up the knife and climbs in. Briefly, she thinks of Simon, and a twinge of sadness passes through her, but is gone because he will understand. He will be happy for her because she's finally free from everything and nothing will ever hurt her again. Without hesitation she lifts her arm and cuts deep through scabbed-over wounds, deeper than she ever has before, gasping at the new pain, the pain that is followed by elation as the blood wells to the surface and spills over, splashing into the tub. The other arm, and the water is already turning pink. She lets the knife fall from limp fingers and slides down until her chin touches water, closes her eyes and waits.
***
From far away the sounds come, the banging, the shouting. Her eyelids weigh tons as she forces them open just a crack. The light hurts them. They are heavy but her head isn't and feels like it will float from her body.
There's a big crash and the sound of splintering wood. Only her eyes move as she looks over to see Simon stumbling towards her. "Tory!"
His arms slide beneath her body, lifting her up, but doesn't he understand that she just wants to sleep? The air is cold; she is so cold now she begins to shiver. He puts her on the bed and somewhere, dimly, she remembers. She was going away. She was drifting down a quiet dark stream, so calm and peaceful. And he has taken that away from her.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Tory. I never should have left. I shouldn't have left you alone." He's wrapping her arms tightly in something, and she tries to pull them away.
"Go away. Leave me alone." She doesn't know if he can understand her because her tongue is so thick she can barely move it.
"Oh Tory...Tory...no. No. I'm so sorry."
"Get out, Simon. Let me go." Disappointment is a bitter taste in her mouth, tasting like the salt of tears. "Why did you come back?"
"Because I knew. I just...felt something and I knew. And I couldn't let you. I couldn't let you." He's sobbing. "I have to take you to the hospital."
"No, no hospital." It's only a whisper and he doesn't hear her; he's turning to the phone and picking it up. And she thinks maybe she will win after all, because the darkness reaches up to swallow her.
***
~*Simon*~
I sat in the squad car and watched the unfamiliar ambulance drift by, my eyes hot and dry. I had stopped crying before the ambulance and police got to the motel, partly because I didn't want them to see me so hysterical, but mostly because my heart had gone into some deep, dark, cold place inside of me and waited there.
My fault, my fault, my fault.
I tried to talk myself out of it, but the words kept tumbling through my head. If I hadn't left her alone. If I had gone to my parents right away instead of going with her on this God-forsaken journey. If I hadn't decided walk to the store and get a soda before going back to the room.
But I didn't make her the way she was in the first place. No, that honor belonged to her father and Gene Blackwood. They were the ones who put her in that bathtub, who sliced the knife into her arms. The memory of that moment when I bashed in the door and saw her made me want to be sick. I would have been sick at the motel except I didn't want to leave her or let go of her hand. In movies, the person always dies when you turn your back for just a moment. Most of all I didn't want to see the bathtub and its rosy water.
The paramedics said I did a good job binding her wrists with the surgical tape. It had stopped the bleeding. But her skin was so pale, and when I'd picked her up she'd been so light, as if part of her spirit had already left her body. I wanted to keep holding her hand but I wasn't allowed to ride in the ambulance with her because I wasn't 18. She needs me! I wanted to shout at them. Who gives a shit about your stupid rules? What if she wakes up and I'm not there?
***
"Dad? Dad!"
"Simon, what's wrong?"
I tried to keep my voice steady, but somehow hearing my dad was the undoing of me, and the only sound that came out of my mouth was a small sob.
"Simon?"
"Dad, she tried to kill herself," I wept into the phone. "Victoria. I left her alone for like...15 minutes. I don't know. And when I came back she was in the bathtub, and she...she..."
"Is she all right?"
"They said she will be. They said she wasn't in there long enough to lose a fatal amount." Somehow saying the words out loud made me feel better, and I stopped crying abruptly. Dad waited while I got myself under control. "We're at the hospital but I can't see her yet. They're sewing up her arms right now and they're going to come get me when they're done."
"I'm sorry you had to go through this, son. But your mother and I are really proud of you. You know that, right?"
"Yeah." I suddenly wanted nothing more than to see them. "Will you come get us?"
"Right away. Tell me where you are."
"Dad," I said after I had told him. "Will you do something for me?"
"Of course."
"Bring Victoria's mother. She needs to see her mother."
***
Later, when the nurses said it was okay, I went into her room. She was in a normal room, not intensive care, which was a good sign. And anyway, they said all she needed was some stitches and a lot of rest. She hadn't even lost enough blood to need a transfusion.
She was sleeping now, her arms wrapped in new bandages. She wasn't hooked up to any fluids or anything. I looked at her face and tried to read it, to see if maybe dreams tormented her, but her expression was bland and neutral; I could read nothing there.
I wanted, suddenly, to be angry with her, to hate her for what she'd just put me through. Did she even think about me? Almost as soon as the thoughts came, I was engulfed in hot shame. The things that had driven Victoria to this point were a lot worse than anything I'd been through; my life had been a cushy, storybook painting compared to hers. But that wasn't my fault either.
"It's not our faults, it's not either of our faults," I whispered, sitting in the chair next to her bed. "I saved you and that's all that matters. I saved you and whatever happens I'll stay with you."
I wanted to take her hand but was afraid of waking her. Instead, I watched her face and waited for her to awaken on her own.
Chapter 19/?
A 7th Heaven Fan Fic by Lucky Star and Jordan
~*Victoria*~
As soon as Simon closes the door, an incredible sense of calm falls over me, soft and warm. I rise from the bed and feel as if I'm floating, as if all the pain and heaviness in my heart have dissolved and now I am light as air.
I pick up my bag and go into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I'm not the same girl that I was only moments before, that terrified, hurting, panicking girl. I'm someone else, someone who knows what she's doing, who knows what she needs to do.
She turns on the water in the tub, waiting for it to grow warm before she stops the drain. While it fills, she reaches into her bag, in the side pocket that's hard to find, and pulls out her knife. It's cold in her hand at first, then warms to her flesh before the sets it on the counter and begins to remove her clothing. When she wears nothing but her underwear she turns off the water.
She picks up the knife and climbs in. Briefly, she thinks of Simon, and a twinge of sadness passes through her, but is gone because he will understand. He will be happy for her because she's finally free from everything and nothing will ever hurt her again. Without hesitation she lifts her arm and cuts deep through scabbed-over wounds, deeper than she ever has before, gasping at the new pain, the pain that is followed by elation as the blood wells to the surface and spills over, splashing into the tub. The other arm, and the water is already turning pink. She lets the knife fall from limp fingers and slides down until her chin touches water, closes her eyes and waits.
***
From far away the sounds come, the banging, the shouting. Her eyelids weigh tons as she forces them open just a crack. The light hurts them. They are heavy but her head isn't and feels like it will float from her body.
There's a big crash and the sound of splintering wood. Only her eyes move as she looks over to see Simon stumbling towards her. "Tory!"
His arms slide beneath her body, lifting her up, but doesn't he understand that she just wants to sleep? The air is cold; she is so cold now she begins to shiver. He puts her on the bed and somewhere, dimly, she remembers. She was going away. She was drifting down a quiet dark stream, so calm and peaceful. And he has taken that away from her.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Tory. I never should have left. I shouldn't have left you alone." He's wrapping her arms tightly in something, and she tries to pull them away.
"Go away. Leave me alone." She doesn't know if he can understand her because her tongue is so thick she can barely move it.
"Oh Tory...Tory...no. No. I'm so sorry."
"Get out, Simon. Let me go." Disappointment is a bitter taste in her mouth, tasting like the salt of tears. "Why did you come back?"
"Because I knew. I just...felt something and I knew. And I couldn't let you. I couldn't let you." He's sobbing. "I have to take you to the hospital."
"No, no hospital." It's only a whisper and he doesn't hear her; he's turning to the phone and picking it up. And she thinks maybe she will win after all, because the darkness reaches up to swallow her.
***
~*Simon*~
I sat in the squad car and watched the unfamiliar ambulance drift by, my eyes hot and dry. I had stopped crying before the ambulance and police got to the motel, partly because I didn't want them to see me so hysterical, but mostly because my heart had gone into some deep, dark, cold place inside of me and waited there.
My fault, my fault, my fault.
I tried to talk myself out of it, but the words kept tumbling through my head. If I hadn't left her alone. If I had gone to my parents right away instead of going with her on this God-forsaken journey. If I hadn't decided walk to the store and get a soda before going back to the room.
But I didn't make her the way she was in the first place. No, that honor belonged to her father and Gene Blackwood. They were the ones who put her in that bathtub, who sliced the knife into her arms. The memory of that moment when I bashed in the door and saw her made me want to be sick. I would have been sick at the motel except I didn't want to leave her or let go of her hand. In movies, the person always dies when you turn your back for just a moment. Most of all I didn't want to see the bathtub and its rosy water.
The paramedics said I did a good job binding her wrists with the surgical tape. It had stopped the bleeding. But her skin was so pale, and when I'd picked her up she'd been so light, as if part of her spirit had already left her body. I wanted to keep holding her hand but I wasn't allowed to ride in the ambulance with her because I wasn't 18. She needs me! I wanted to shout at them. Who gives a shit about your stupid rules? What if she wakes up and I'm not there?
***
"Dad? Dad!"
"Simon, what's wrong?"
I tried to keep my voice steady, but somehow hearing my dad was the undoing of me, and the only sound that came out of my mouth was a small sob.
"Simon?"
"Dad, she tried to kill herself," I wept into the phone. "Victoria. I left her alone for like...15 minutes. I don't know. And when I came back she was in the bathtub, and she...she..."
"Is she all right?"
"They said she will be. They said she wasn't in there long enough to lose a fatal amount." Somehow saying the words out loud made me feel better, and I stopped crying abruptly. Dad waited while I got myself under control. "We're at the hospital but I can't see her yet. They're sewing up her arms right now and they're going to come get me when they're done."
"I'm sorry you had to go through this, son. But your mother and I are really proud of you. You know that, right?"
"Yeah." I suddenly wanted nothing more than to see them. "Will you come get us?"
"Right away. Tell me where you are."
"Dad," I said after I had told him. "Will you do something for me?"
"Of course."
"Bring Victoria's mother. She needs to see her mother."
***
Later, when the nurses said it was okay, I went into her room. She was in a normal room, not intensive care, which was a good sign. And anyway, they said all she needed was some stitches and a lot of rest. She hadn't even lost enough blood to need a transfusion.
She was sleeping now, her arms wrapped in new bandages. She wasn't hooked up to any fluids or anything. I looked at her face and tried to read it, to see if maybe dreams tormented her, but her expression was bland and neutral; I could read nothing there.
I wanted, suddenly, to be angry with her, to hate her for what she'd just put me through. Did she even think about me? Almost as soon as the thoughts came, I was engulfed in hot shame. The things that had driven Victoria to this point were a lot worse than anything I'd been through; my life had been a cushy, storybook painting compared to hers. But that wasn't my fault either.
"It's not our faults, it's not either of our faults," I whispered, sitting in the chair next to her bed. "I saved you and that's all that matters. I saved you and whatever happens I'll stay with you."
I wanted to take her hand but was afraid of waking her. Instead, I watched her face and waited for her to awaken on her own.