first off, thanks to EVERYONE for reviewing! one of my absolute favorite
authors, Madelyn, reviewed this, and i was like "woah!"......cuz when some
writer you admire so much reviews your work......it's like the ultimate
compliment! so thanks to her and everyone else out there! this fic is a
really new experience for me......ive never really done angst, but im
having a fun time with it, and i hope you're enjoying reading this. im
hoping to break 100 reviews, and there's about five more chapters after
this, so......keep 'em coming! enjoy part nine-thanks!
disclaimer: not mine, never will be, never have been. but it's a whole lot easier to use them than to make up my own characters!
Part Nine
For Chandler, it'd become a routine- his long, late night walks down the streets of Hartford. He knew it was probably dangerous, but he didn't care much-it wasn't as if he was really living. He was simply existing.
He'd had to stay in Connecticut for his job-he figured the least he could do was support Monica, so he'd decided to send monthly checks. And in order for the checks to be able to be sent, he had to keep on working. But he'd moved into the city to get as far as humanly possible away from his home.
The late night walks seemed to be the only thing he looked forward to now. All day, he worked quickly so he could have more time at night to walk. For him, it was his time to think, his time to remember. During his walks, he always carried two pictures-one of Monica, and one of the entire gang together. The only time he ever viewed those pictures was during his walks. He didn't know why. But once the walks were over, back went the pictures into his pocket.
During one of his walks, about a month and a half after he'd left Monica, Chandler was sitting on a park bench, the two pictures in his hand. He was not paying much attention to the picture of the gang, though, he was mostly focused on Monica's picture. Slowly, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it gently. "I miss you so much," he whispered.
It was then Chandler decided something-living was too much for him anymore. He couldn't take the pain. And maybe if he was no longer on this Earth, he could stop causing pain to the people he loved. And stop causing pain to himself. He knew he was being selfish, but he couldn't take it any longer. Monica'd be okay-she'd get pension from his office. So it was decided, he thought, as he stood up and headed home.
Once home, he reached for a container of sleeping pills he often used when he couldn't sleep at night-which was most every night nowadays. Taking a deep breath, he unscrewed the cap, poured the contents of the bottle into his hand, and swallowed, hard.
PLEASE REVIEW!
disclaimer: not mine, never will be, never have been. but it's a whole lot easier to use them than to make up my own characters!
Part Nine
For Chandler, it'd become a routine- his long, late night walks down the streets of Hartford. He knew it was probably dangerous, but he didn't care much-it wasn't as if he was really living. He was simply existing.
He'd had to stay in Connecticut for his job-he figured the least he could do was support Monica, so he'd decided to send monthly checks. And in order for the checks to be able to be sent, he had to keep on working. But he'd moved into the city to get as far as humanly possible away from his home.
The late night walks seemed to be the only thing he looked forward to now. All day, he worked quickly so he could have more time at night to walk. For him, it was his time to think, his time to remember. During his walks, he always carried two pictures-one of Monica, and one of the entire gang together. The only time he ever viewed those pictures was during his walks. He didn't know why. But once the walks were over, back went the pictures into his pocket.
During one of his walks, about a month and a half after he'd left Monica, Chandler was sitting on a park bench, the two pictures in his hand. He was not paying much attention to the picture of the gang, though, he was mostly focused on Monica's picture. Slowly, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it gently. "I miss you so much," he whispered.
It was then Chandler decided something-living was too much for him anymore. He couldn't take the pain. And maybe if he was no longer on this Earth, he could stop causing pain to the people he loved. And stop causing pain to himself. He knew he was being selfish, but he couldn't take it any longer. Monica'd be okay-she'd get pension from his office. So it was decided, he thought, as he stood up and headed home.
Once home, he reached for a container of sleeping pills he often used when he couldn't sleep at night-which was most every night nowadays. Taking a deep breath, he unscrewed the cap, poured the contents of the bottle into his hand, and swallowed, hard.
PLEASE REVIEW!
