Chapter 50
When I woke in the morning I felt completely sick. I rolled out of bed and ran to the bathroom and just couldn't stop vomiting. The moment of calmness that I'd had the night before completely vanished. Mark's words dissolved and meant nothing. I felt that heavy pain that I'd been feeling the past few days, of longing and misery and hatred. And confusion, anger. Everything was a tempest inside my head. But I knew that there were things that I had to do. There were clothes that I needed from the apartment, and also I felt the strange urge to spend time there. Whether this was something drawing me to there or my own need to put myself through pain I still don't know. But I wanted to be there. As soon as I'd composed myself the best I could I headed over there, again broken upon entering.
It was just…complete Amber. Everything. I looked at all her things and where they belonged, at her clothes and her books and her movies…I didn't want to touch any of it, feeling that I was a clumsy fool who would ruin the beauty of her possessions, that if I were to do something so trivial as put something on a shelf the slightest bit crooked I would be ruining the integrity of her things. It tortured me.
For a long time I just stared at one of the shelves in the foyer, one that held just one of our Anne Rice collections. All the Vampire Chronicles in chronological order. Merrick seemed to smile at me, one that I didn't like as much. That I'd read through and yet failed to finish reading to Claudette (because yes, I'd kept up with that). I'd read perhaps seventy pages to her before giving up on it, not being able to endure the book another time. I stroked the spine with my finger, sighing, closing my eyes tightly and trying not to cry, for as much as I wanted to, equally I didn't want to.
It frustrated me that everything was so contradicting. I couldn't decide whether I wanted to move on, as Mark had said, and at least try to get better, or just collapse and wallow in my own self-pity and misery. Whatever I chose, I figured, for the time being I was allowed to mourn. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was more of a choice of how long to mourn rather than whether or not I should mourn.
Eventually it was that which made me break down again. The decision to allow myself to mourn. It had been less than a week and I felt that I was entitled to. I'd give myself a few weeks at least before I made any half-assed effort to be nice to myself. And so now I was not only in pain, but almost performing some act of masochism by forcing myself through all this, by stepping into Claudette's nursery and allowing myself to be miserable.
She had a small bed with rails on it, pink blankets. The carpet was fluffy and thick and soft, so that it almost felt like you were walking on cushions. It was light blue, and the walls were light purple with a little wallpaper border of Winnie the Pooh characters along the top, near the ceiling. They weren't the Disney characters though, the softer ones, the original A.A. Milne ones which matched the pastels of the rest of the room. It was a stereotypical toddler's room, soft colors and overrun with toys. Nearly half of her bed was covered in stuffed animals, as well as a dresser and also one of the corners of the room. She had a bookshelf covered with pictures books, ones that Amber and I would read to her and some of them pop-up books and some of them those ones that were battery powered, with the panel of sound effects beside it. I winced as I looked around at all these things, then up to a higher shelf of collectors dolls, high so that she wouldn't play with them, all of them resembling her. Emmaline was like the rest of them, but less delicate, which was why she was able to play with her. And she even had a small television with a Claudette-sized couch, and around it shelves of Disney movies, ones that I enjoyed to watch as much as she did. My heart throbbed as my eyes scanned the titles. Beauty & the Beast, Pocahontas, Aladdin, the Lion King, Cinderella…
Cinderella…
I frowned, wiping my eyes and sniffling and wondering if I were a version of Cinderella. If I were just some useless creature who no one cared about who was given until midnight to be happy and have a good time. Of course, I was given three years rather than a few hours, but nonetheless, exactly three years later the clock chimed and they were instantly taken away from me.
"Claudette…" I whispered. I closed my eyes, feeling them sting, feeling my nose twitch with it as I felt it. I wrapped my arms around myself, curling into my pain, groaning as I felt burning engulf my body, ripping holes in my organs. I heard her giggling, echoing in the room, breathing out of the walls. It was completely eerie, like a ghost. I shuddered and on impulse turned out of the room, turning off the light and closing the door behind me. I turned down the hall to my own bedroom, stepping in and lying down on the bed, the doll Emmaline still on it from the day earlier. I choked as I looked at her, as I lie there, feeling strongly the emptiness of the other half of the bed, knowing that Amber belonged there.
And her pillow…it smelled like her hair…
I couldn't help the sobs as they overtook me, as I grabbed her pillow and held it against me, crying hysterically. Every time I opened my eyes I would imagine her to be lying there next to me, and fall into a painful despair knowing that it was only an illusion. When I closed my eyes I would see her, just random memories. I would see us wrestling, see images of when we would shower together, see us lying in bed awake, see her dancing, see the awe in her eyes when she watched a movie…just anything. And most of all between all that, or more of silhouette during all of it, was her, dancing in the stars. "I defy you stars," I mumbled again. It seemed the perfect line, and in fact it wouldn't leave my head. All I could think about was Leonardo DiCaprio falling to his knees, arms stretched, screaming that with his whole heart. And that wretched look on his face, that contorted look he had of such pain…pain that I too could feel.
Romeo robbed of his beautiful Juliet. Me robbed of my beautiful Amber.
I felt a sudden hatred for Shakespeare.
I felt a hatred for every tragedy of fiction and of reality, every wrong that had been done unto others from an author's imagination, who could just sit there and write out something so evil, when in fact I was living that evil. I even felt anger at myself for ever taking part in reading such works of filth. Things like Romeo & Juliet and Antigone. I thought of Sophocles, of Haimon's misery when wrong is done unto his Antigone. And oh god what about James O'Barr and his graphic novel? Of the avenging angel, Eric Draven, returning from the dead to find some justice for he and his love Shelly? And the tragedy of Louis de Pointe du Lac and his love Claudia.
The world was so filled with all of it. I couldn't stand it. I cringed at all of it, squeezing Amber's pillow against me and weeping, thinking of her and of our tragedy. There was Romeo and Juliet, Haimon and Antigone, Eric and Shelly, Louis and Claudia…but now was Kane and Amber, and to me, that was the worst of all of them.
When my stomach hurt too much to keep carrying on and my eyes felt like they were too dry to drop another tear, I gradually stopped, still holding her pillow though it was soaked with my tears, curled up on our bed, my eyes closed, sore and drowsy. I shook, aftershock of such crying which always stays for a while, sending little impulses, twitching and shaking for a while afterward. I hated it, as I hated everything else just then.
As I was calming, as I tried to breathe properly and take a hold of myself, I heard something from the other side of the apartment, not hearing it quite clearly and taking a moment to realize that someone was knocking on the door. I shook my head to myself, forcing my body out of bed and to the door, looking through the hole for a second, trying to adjust my vision from all the blurriness of crying for hours on end.
It was Raven.
I sighed and opened the door, gesturing without words for him to come in. He held Jake in his arms, and put him down on the floor as he stepped in and closed the door. Jake seemed excited, flapping his wings and rubbing against my legs. It hurt me to do but I couldn't stand to look at him so I just walked away, ignoring him. I went into the living room and sat down in an arm chair, Jake coming in and trying to sit on my lap. I pushed him away.
"Go away, Jake," I scolded. He understood the harshness in my voice and I saw his body portray something that looked timid as he walked away. It touched my slightly as someone who was a master of body language. After all the years I'd spent being sullen and quiet, not to mention that it hurt my throat to talk for years, I'd learned how to speak with actions. I didn't need to anymore but I still knew how to. It really isn't something that leaves you. Raven leaned against the doorframe, behind the bead curtain. He seemed a little pissed off. I sighed.
"What are you gawking at?" I snapped. He stepped into the room, no less pissed off as he'd been seconds earlier. He glared at me for a moment before softening, in an instant turning from angry to miserable. He leaned against the wall, running his hand through his hair.
"Kane…please…" he sighed and sounded like he was about to cry. "I know how weak this is going to sound…but could you…please…stop being so mean to me?"
I felt horrible and almost began to cry again. I covered it and didn't change my appearance, just stared at him. He spoke again. "I'm sorry about last night, I didn't mean to offend you or whatever but you had no right to say what you did to me and Saphrin. And I mean what I've said to you numerous times all week. Kane- I…really…don't want to lose you, too… I don't know what I'd do if that were to happen and I really don't want it to…"
I found that I was unable to speak. I could see the longing in his eyes. Begging me to say something, anything to him. My heart was about to burst, head about to explode as I bit my tongue, not knowing why I showed him silence but not being able to help it. He stared longingly at me for a few minutes before I saw the tears running down his face. He sighed as he wiped them away.
"Whatever, Kane…" he muttered. "Just…take care of Jake. Please don't be mean to him, too…" he said, and turned away, passing through the curtains and walking away. My heart pounded, adrenaline rushing through my body. Mark's words played over in my head. "You really can't do this to yourself or to me or to Raven and Saph. It was really mean what you said to them tonight…and I know that you didn't mean it but you have to understand that they just lost their best friend. Imagine if this was Scott in your shoes…you'd be sad as hell if Saphrin was gone and you know it. So don't do this to him or to her. Or me." I heard him opening the door and jumped up out of the chair.
"Wait!" I cried. I heard his footsteps stop. "Raven wait! Please don't go! Raven please! Scott I'm sorry! Please come back!!!" I cried. Literally I cried now, finding that, like I said earlier, you can never truly run out of tears. I collapsed on the floor, on my knees, leaning over and holding my head. I heard the door close, afraid that he'd left anyway until a moment later when I heard him enter the room again. I saw in the corner of my eye his boots, and lifted my head slowly to see him sit down next to me. His tears matched my own. I sat up and hugged him. "I'm sorry," I said over and over. "I didn't mean what I said, I swear. I couldn't help it. I just needed to yell at someone…forgive me, please Raven. I don't know what I'd do without you!"
His face twisted as he hugged me back. "Calm down Kane…I understand…calm down…" he said softly. His voice was so warm, so soft and soothing. It reminded me of Brad Pitt's voice, reminded me of Fight Club and Se7en and Interview with the Vampire. When I thought of Interview I was pummeled with more memories, more misery. I pulled away from him, shaking my head to myself and forcing the thoughts out of my head, forcing my own composure to come present. Within seconds I'd gained this, and looked up to see him completely tranquil. No tears, no trembling. Only the remnants and signs of stress, of sorrow, traced his expression. The deepened creases in his face and the gloss of his eyes.
"I'm sorry I've been such a dick to you…" I said softly. He nodded slowly, telling me with his eyes that he understood. "It's just that…I don't know. I don't mean to be this way I just can't help it…"
He nodded his head slowly. "It's okay. I understand, Kane. Don't apologize…just…don't do this."
I sighed. "I know, I know…I can't help it…"
A moment of silence passed between us. He shifted and moved back a little, leaning against another chair. We both sat on the floor, two or three feet away from each other. He played with his hair. "Becky is really worried about you…"
"Is she here?" I felt my heart lift a little bit. I almost smiled. He nodded.
"Yeah she couldn't get a plane out here so missed the wake. She got in this morning. She's out with Saph buying clothes for umm…for…tonight…"
Both of us looked away, cringing. I moaned as I ran my hand through my hair, trying not to look at him, trying to keep myself composed so that we could have a conversation. He seemed to be trying to accomplish the same thing.
Raven fiddled with this shoelace. "I'm really fuckin' sorry about all this…"
I felt my own realization of his pain, putting everything beside my self-pity, letting myself feel empathy and sympathy for him, my friend. "So am I."
**Hehey ducks. I'm taking this time to plug my friend Krissi's FUCKING AWESOME Jeff Hardy story. It's her first fanfic and it kicks my ass…so I want all of you to read it. YOU'RE TIME WON'T BE WASTED!!! It's called The Way Out is Through and her penname is Krissy Hepburn. So read it!! Look---- I'm even giving you the URL!! !! All you have to do is cut and paste it you lazy bums! And REVIEW!!! :P
And for those of you who read my story Figure 13, under my other screen name, yes, it's the same Kristin. XD