parte ocho
hold on if you feel like letting go hold on it gets better then you know dont stop looking you're one step closer don't step searching, it's not over - good charolette
There is this certain state of mind a person receives right before all senses disappear. It's like this crude level of sanity that allows you to totally leave yourself. In that one instant before careening from reality forever, everything in my life almost seemed perfect: I was married to an incredibly gorgeous, funny, caring guy. I had a best friend who was always there for me, and a job that paid well and let me travel the world. So distorted is this sense of reality that I almost swerved my car around and went back to find him. Then I could introduce him to Francie and be happy and joyful and normal. And in this second of normalcy, I became so lost in my own mind, my own twisted fantasies, that I didn't see the truck until it had slammed into the passenger side of the car in front of me. That I didn't render the glass shattering and screams of pedestrians until someone pulled me out of my car. I could faintly hear voices talking quickly but none of the speaking registered to words. Images that looked like faces crowded over me. I couldn't recognize any of them. Someone was picking me up now and suddenly I was aware of a sharp pain in my back. The sharp pain moved somewhere deeper as I was able to focus my mind to clearly see one of the faces above me. He was so worried...always worried. "Michael..." I whispered, my voice barely audible. I saw him look down at me, then look away. Then I was aware of nothing but blackness.
I first saw Francie's face. Then Will's face appeared above me. I knew that I should probably be grateful that I was home, at my house, with my two best friends, but it seemed more like a nightmare then reality. I would rather be with my father right now then with these two people above me. In a someone's idea of a sick joke my two friends disappeared and were replaced by my father. I attempted to prop myself up and found I was on a sofa. I looked around, then came back to my father. "Agent Vaughn found you after the car crash- he brought you to me. We're taking care of all the financial issues as I speak." I nodded weakly. "By some odd twist of fate, you miraculously came out un-scathed. There were no injuries from your sudden stop, and the damage from the crash in front of you did nothing to you or your car. You probably passed out from the shock. You were lucky Agent Vaughn was there to get you out before someone took you to a hospital- the closest one is Sd-6, and all their conversations are recorded. Are you ok?" Am I ok? What kind of question is that? I'm married to my handler and he doesn't know it. I'm in love with my handler and he doesn't know it. I've had sex with my handler and he doesn't know it. And every second I feel one step closer to the edge. "My back hurts." He nodded, face expressionless as usual. "You may have experienced some whip lash. You were going pretty fast when the accident hit." "Speeding, in fact." Francie's voice floated in. My father looked at me. "Good luck." He nodded, then began to walk away. He hesitated for a moment, then dug something out of his pocket and tossed it to me. He nodded and left. I can't help but realize that life is torturing me. When I think about it, I can easily wish that the truck had hit my car and killed me. I mean, what's left in my life to live for? My father treats me like an agent, my two best friends don't even know who I am, and the two people I work for are the devil and my husband. It's hard to tell the last two apart sometimes. So god damn hard to understand why I had to wake up first, why he couldn't remember, why me, why him, why us. Why this is all so hard. I look down at the crumpled envelope in my hands am so tempted to throw it in the fireplace that once held pictures of my false childhood. But as always I'm forced to remember it's not his fault, never, ever his fault. He's my guardian angel. He protects me. He always is right and always wins in the end. He never deserves the pain. Yeah, well he fucking got me drunk and then married me and then slept with me and no, I don't think the whole thing was his fault- it's a balance of responsibility. So why am I the only one who has to deal with the consequence? Why the hell don't I just tell him? Yeah, and then kill myself. Because I really [i]don't[/I] want him to suffer through the same things I'm going through, and I [i]do[/I] feel responsible for everything that happened. But I've tried to convince myself over and over that I can go on normally, maybe even forget, go back to when things almost seemed normal. That I could look into his eyes and lie and tell myself I was under the influence, that if I got a second chance I wouldn't go back and do the same things over again. Francie was, by now, sitting in front me holding something in her lap. I really didn't want to do this. "You didn't get hurt?" "No." "At all?" "Not a scratch." "Good." We sat in silence for a minute when she turned to me again. "Can I borrow a buck?" Her eyes glittered dangerously. I nodded and handed her my wallet. She dug through it and pulled something out. The wallet landed back in my lap. Francie stuck out her two "treasures"- the first a black and white still of the happy couple, the second my wallet picture of happy sleeping michael. She shook her head and looked up at me. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. "Is there something you want to tell me, Sydney?" The black and white still was one of about 6 of the happy couple. I picked up the picture and smudged Mr.Vaughn's face with my slightly bloody finger tip. I then turned the picture to Francie and used all the energy left within in me to smile, big and happy. "That's my parent's wedding. It's one of the only pictures I have left of it." Francie took the picture and cleaned off the spot I had smudged. "Looks a lot like you." "Ew, marry my dad? I did take after my mother though..." My false sweetness sickened me. I smiled again. More of it and my face would crack. "Hmm." Francie commented, not buying any of my bullshit. "And who is this?" She pulled out happy sleeping michael. Seeing him made me hesitant. It was hard to lie around him, about him. "My friend Matt. On one of my business trips Dixon dared me to get a picture of him sleeping." She raised and eyebrow. "Who was sleeping next to him?" "Come again?" "The bed, on the other side- someone was sleeping there. You can tell." "Probably his girlfriend." "What's his girlfriend's name?" "Um...I think it's..." I took the ultimate plunge. "Anne." "Anne. Really? Interesting. So was Matt here marrying your mother?" I couldn't meet her eyes, and felt tears welling up in my eyes. Francie's tone changed instantly. "Sydney, I'm not sure whether to say congratulations or fuck you." "Francie I didn't expect this to happen..." "Yeah, well you don't expect anything to happen do you? All your trips, all the secrecy....every day I feel like I know you less, not more. And as each day passes, I'm not sure I [i]want[/I] to know you." She looked down at the pictures. "I'm done with your bull shit, Sydney. You can come straight or leave this house." I looked her straight in the eye. "I'm sorry Francie." I whispered, then got up and left. When I got outside, I leaned against the door and cried. The pictures in my hands fluttered to the ground. I picked them up and shoved them in my pocket. It was fine when it was just me and him. I could live with that, no matter how painful the sight of his green eyes were. But now..now everything had blown out of proportion, everything was crazy and screwed up. Everything I thought even close to normal had twisted to a sense of reality attached to it now and the only thing it all came down to was him. My tears quickly stopped and were replaced by my hatred and anger for him- after everything I had done for him, this was how it had to be. Ok.
But every action has an opposite one to oppose it.
hold on if you feel like letting go hold on it gets better then you know dont stop looking you're one step closer don't step searching, it's not over - good charolette
There is this certain state of mind a person receives right before all senses disappear. It's like this crude level of sanity that allows you to totally leave yourself. In that one instant before careening from reality forever, everything in my life almost seemed perfect: I was married to an incredibly gorgeous, funny, caring guy. I had a best friend who was always there for me, and a job that paid well and let me travel the world. So distorted is this sense of reality that I almost swerved my car around and went back to find him. Then I could introduce him to Francie and be happy and joyful and normal. And in this second of normalcy, I became so lost in my own mind, my own twisted fantasies, that I didn't see the truck until it had slammed into the passenger side of the car in front of me. That I didn't render the glass shattering and screams of pedestrians until someone pulled me out of my car. I could faintly hear voices talking quickly but none of the speaking registered to words. Images that looked like faces crowded over me. I couldn't recognize any of them. Someone was picking me up now and suddenly I was aware of a sharp pain in my back. The sharp pain moved somewhere deeper as I was able to focus my mind to clearly see one of the faces above me. He was so worried...always worried. "Michael..." I whispered, my voice barely audible. I saw him look down at me, then look away. Then I was aware of nothing but blackness.
I first saw Francie's face. Then Will's face appeared above me. I knew that I should probably be grateful that I was home, at my house, with my two best friends, but it seemed more like a nightmare then reality. I would rather be with my father right now then with these two people above me. In a someone's idea of a sick joke my two friends disappeared and were replaced by my father. I attempted to prop myself up and found I was on a sofa. I looked around, then came back to my father. "Agent Vaughn found you after the car crash- he brought you to me. We're taking care of all the financial issues as I speak." I nodded weakly. "By some odd twist of fate, you miraculously came out un-scathed. There were no injuries from your sudden stop, and the damage from the crash in front of you did nothing to you or your car. You probably passed out from the shock. You were lucky Agent Vaughn was there to get you out before someone took you to a hospital- the closest one is Sd-6, and all their conversations are recorded. Are you ok?" Am I ok? What kind of question is that? I'm married to my handler and he doesn't know it. I'm in love with my handler and he doesn't know it. I've had sex with my handler and he doesn't know it. And every second I feel one step closer to the edge. "My back hurts." He nodded, face expressionless as usual. "You may have experienced some whip lash. You were going pretty fast when the accident hit." "Speeding, in fact." Francie's voice floated in. My father looked at me. "Good luck." He nodded, then began to walk away. He hesitated for a moment, then dug something out of his pocket and tossed it to me. He nodded and left. I can't help but realize that life is torturing me. When I think about it, I can easily wish that the truck had hit my car and killed me. I mean, what's left in my life to live for? My father treats me like an agent, my two best friends don't even know who I am, and the two people I work for are the devil and my husband. It's hard to tell the last two apart sometimes. So god damn hard to understand why I had to wake up first, why he couldn't remember, why me, why him, why us. Why this is all so hard. I look down at the crumpled envelope in my hands am so tempted to throw it in the fireplace that once held pictures of my false childhood. But as always I'm forced to remember it's not his fault, never, ever his fault. He's my guardian angel. He protects me. He always is right and always wins in the end. He never deserves the pain. Yeah, well he fucking got me drunk and then married me and then slept with me and no, I don't think the whole thing was his fault- it's a balance of responsibility. So why am I the only one who has to deal with the consequence? Why the hell don't I just tell him? Yeah, and then kill myself. Because I really [i]don't[/I] want him to suffer through the same things I'm going through, and I [i]do[/I] feel responsible for everything that happened. But I've tried to convince myself over and over that I can go on normally, maybe even forget, go back to when things almost seemed normal. That I could look into his eyes and lie and tell myself I was under the influence, that if I got a second chance I wouldn't go back and do the same things over again. Francie was, by now, sitting in front me holding something in her lap. I really didn't want to do this. "You didn't get hurt?" "No." "At all?" "Not a scratch." "Good." We sat in silence for a minute when she turned to me again. "Can I borrow a buck?" Her eyes glittered dangerously. I nodded and handed her my wallet. She dug through it and pulled something out. The wallet landed back in my lap. Francie stuck out her two "treasures"- the first a black and white still of the happy couple, the second my wallet picture of happy sleeping michael. She shook her head and looked up at me. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. "Is there something you want to tell me, Sydney?" The black and white still was one of about 6 of the happy couple. I picked up the picture and smudged Mr.Vaughn's face with my slightly bloody finger tip. I then turned the picture to Francie and used all the energy left within in me to smile, big and happy. "That's my parent's wedding. It's one of the only pictures I have left of it." Francie took the picture and cleaned off the spot I had smudged. "Looks a lot like you." "Ew, marry my dad? I did take after my mother though..." My false sweetness sickened me. I smiled again. More of it and my face would crack. "Hmm." Francie commented, not buying any of my bullshit. "And who is this?" She pulled out happy sleeping michael. Seeing him made me hesitant. It was hard to lie around him, about him. "My friend Matt. On one of my business trips Dixon dared me to get a picture of him sleeping." She raised and eyebrow. "Who was sleeping next to him?" "Come again?" "The bed, on the other side- someone was sleeping there. You can tell." "Probably his girlfriend." "What's his girlfriend's name?" "Um...I think it's..." I took the ultimate plunge. "Anne." "Anne. Really? Interesting. So was Matt here marrying your mother?" I couldn't meet her eyes, and felt tears welling up in my eyes. Francie's tone changed instantly. "Sydney, I'm not sure whether to say congratulations or fuck you." "Francie I didn't expect this to happen..." "Yeah, well you don't expect anything to happen do you? All your trips, all the secrecy....every day I feel like I know you less, not more. And as each day passes, I'm not sure I [i]want[/I] to know you." She looked down at the pictures. "I'm done with your bull shit, Sydney. You can come straight or leave this house." I looked her straight in the eye. "I'm sorry Francie." I whispered, then got up and left. When I got outside, I leaned against the door and cried. The pictures in my hands fluttered to the ground. I picked them up and shoved them in my pocket. It was fine when it was just me and him. I could live with that, no matter how painful the sight of his green eyes were. But now..now everything had blown out of proportion, everything was crazy and screwed up. Everything I thought even close to normal had twisted to a sense of reality attached to it now and the only thing it all came down to was him. My tears quickly stopped and were replaced by my hatred and anger for him- after everything I had done for him, this was how it had to be. Ok.
But every action has an opposite one to oppose it.