A/N:Did it sink in to you all that I'm back again:p I know I've always taken a long time to update, but it won't take long for me to update from now on. Well – most of the time. I can't forget reality :D Well, I'm going to keep going on with this story, although a lot of you may have forgotten about it, because I know a lot of people have asked me to continue all those months back. Once again, I'm sorry it's taken so long to continue with this story. It's going to finish, though, rest assured. And I hope I'm still pleasing you guys with this story :) Enjoy!
Chapter Twelve
November 20
I'm slowly losing my mind, Mon. I don't know what to do with myself. I literally feel like I'm separated from the rest of the world. I'm going insane, I know it. Sometimes I see you next to me. Sometimes I even feel your warm embrace. Sometimes I forget that all of this happened, and wait for you to arrive at my window, holding your journal in your hands, ready to exchange your thoughts for mine. I talk to you. I talk to you whenever I could. And sometimes I swear I could hear you talk back.
I wish I could be optimistic. I wish I'd never think that you could possibly die. But it's been weeks, and you're still out of my reach. I'm so terrified, Mon. I'm so afraid that you don't know how much I love you yet, because I haven't found any way I could possibly show just how much of my heart you've captured. I'm so scared that you'll leave me, just when I need you the most. I'm paralyzed with fear, just thinking of eternity without you. Mon - if you die, there's no way I could live. I'll have to die, too.
Waiting ever so humbly,
Your other half
"Has she finally died?"
Chandler spun to face the person who uttered this, expecting to witness Joey, stone-faced and taunting. Instead, a stranger stood before him, sneering. Without any thought, Chandler, tossing his books aside, balled his fists and stiffly walked over to the intruder.
"You're about to wish you were," he hissed.
His hateful, menacing words were almost mechanical – his readiness to fight almost instinct.
"A broken man coming to fight me – I'm trembling."
"Oh, you got my whole body trembling."
Chandler stopped in his tracks, his head ringing with the voice of Joey. Shaking his head once, he attempted to clear his mind. He continued to advance towards the boy, who stood in his spot, unfazed and ready for combat.
"Don't make this more painful for yourself," Chandler demanded.
He took his time proceeding towards the boy, putting no haste into his movements. The entire conversation was languid in energy – still, Chandler's fury heightened and his veins rushed with adrenaline. People who realized what was occurring began to stand around the two, silent. There were no pleas of "Fight!" or chants to arouse a brawl.
"I think I speak for the entire town when I say that it'll be you who's cowering in pain by the end of it all, Chandler."
"I speak for the entire town when I say that this story should end now."
Once again, Joey's past words shot deep underneath Chandler's skin, and his rage intensified. More people surrounded Chandler and his latest enemy, completely soundless. Still, Chandler made no lunge towards the boy, though he did quicken his pace slightly. The stranger still stood a few yards away.
"Come get me," the boy said, amused, after a few seconds of utter stillness. "Protect Monica – though I'm not sure anything or anyone can save her now."
Instead of charging towards the stranger, Chandler stood rooted to his spot.
Was she still alive?
If she was, did she waken?
If she did, then why wasn't he there to hold her hand and tell her that she'd soon be okay?
…What if she wasn't?
"Go to hell."
With that, Chandler scooped his belongs from the concrete below him and began to push his way through the crowd. The group of people didn't make an attempt to scatter once they realized that there would be no fight. Instead, they began to 'boo' Chandler, shoving him as he walked past them, taunting him with blaring, crude voices. Chandler clenched his jaw, weaving through the mass of teenagers with effort, ignoring anything propelled at him, whether with force or with words. Past words and the crowd's bitter shouts dissolved together, creating a collage of words.
"That deserves a kiss."
"Come on, Chandler – make the right decision for once."
"We're going to go through everything together – whether they drag me down or not."
"You've already made the biggest mistake you can – what are you afraid of?"
"Hate is always worse than love."
"Is she really worth it?"
"A little pain is worth everything you're giving me."
"She's dying, Chandler. She's as good as gone – it's only you that's left to protect now."
"We let love be our shield."
"You're dragging yourself through the mud, Bing."
"I can't get away."
Images of Monica whisked into his memories: their laughter together, their kisses, their pure bliss. Then, the haunting image of Joey charging at her with his weapon crept into his mind. Instantly, his head began to pound. He fell to his knees, gripping his temples with his thumbs, ready to vomit from disgust and rage.
"You'll be sorry – I swear you will."
"I won't regret this, believe me."
"How about you ditch this bitch, and I promise not to make your life a living hell?"
"You'd better hope she dies, Chandler."
Suddenly, Chandler sprang from his knees and latched onto the neck of the stranger to the right of him, the stranger who got on his last nerve. The stranger who wished the death of Monica. With his head still pounding, he gripped his neck in a constricting hold.
"Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you right this instant," Chandler whispered heatedly, watching with pleasure as the boy choked for his words.
The people that surrounded Chandler now began to back away, yet still locked their eyes onto the scene set before them. Chandler, his hand still secured on the boy's neck, glanced around the crowd and saw how they backed away, saw the horror in their eyes. His focus returned to his victim, who was now turning purple from lack of air.
"You'll regret the day you decided to follow this pack of imbeciles," Chandler said, his voice seething with loathing and disgust.
With these words, Chandler thrust the boy onto the solid concrete below, releasing his fingers from their grip. The boy merely looked up at him, clutching his own throat lightly, gasping for breath. Chandler, still placed before the boy, looked at the people encircling him.
"You all think you can phase me," he shouted, making sure everyone heard. "You think you can make me stop loving Monica! Well, you're all idiots for believing that I can ever stop loving her. And you're all even bigger imbeciles for not seeing all that I see in her." His voice rang out across the mass of teenagers who had gathered.
Chandler began to walk out of the crowd once more, which was now silent. As he finally thrust himself out of the mob, he took a last glimpse of those gathered, all who were still noiseless and still watching him.
"Rest assured, it won't be me or Monica who'll be destroyed by all of this!"
Chandler didn't give anyone a chance to reply – as idiotic as it may have looked, he dashed from the people who still stood speechless.
He ran to Monica.
His running ceased into hastened walking as he entered the hospital. Nobody glanced at him, too consumed by their own grief and anticipation to care that someone had entered the building. When he reached the front desk, panting for breath, the nurse who Chandler grew to know through his frequent visits shook her head.
"I'm here to see Mon-"
"Chandler, I can't let you in. It's family only." The nurse's voice was somewhat distressed, and Chandler stopped to think, for just a moment, that she felt sympathy towards him.
"I already told you. Monica has no family – I'm all she-"
Once again, the woman cut his sentence short. "Chandler, we only allowed you in when we thought that the girl was an orphan. We can't let you in now, I'm sorry. She has family, dear."
"No she doesn't!" Chandler declared, his voice slightly raised, still heated from what had occurred only minutes before.
"Her mother came to see her. Now, I'm sorry, but I'll have to ask you to either wait in the waiting room or leave."
Chandler looked at the nurse, who was now standing before him instead of sitting behind the desk. His mind became clouded and perplexed, and his heart began to rapidly increase its beating. A single drop of sweat glistened along the side of his face.
"What?" he managed to utter, his voice dry and dazed. "When?"
"Actually, she's still in there. She's been in there for about an hour."
Having just been ceased of its pain, Chandler's head began to pound once more with the thought of why Judy could possibly be there. Fear gradually consumed him, making his head pound with more force. Without acknowledging the nurse further, Chandler began to walk down the hallway, his strides rushed.
"Chandler, I told you that you can't see her!"
He continued to ignore the woman. When he finally reached Monica's room, he instantly opened the door with trembling hands. Before him, Judy lay passed out on the floor, a flask of alcohol a few feet away. Though his panic was slightly diminished, Chandler began to quiver more than before.
He hurried to Monica's bed and saw the broken locket lying beside her. He fell to his knees, which throbbed from the impact of the floor, and, resting his arms on Monica's bed, he grasped the locket. Chandler buried his face into the mattress that Monica slept upon. Holding his hands in the air, still clamping onto the broken locket, he clenched his fists.
"You have to-"
Seeing Judy strewn upon the floor and Chandler on his knees, the nurse, who just entered, cut herself off. Chandler put down his hands, but allowed them to rest on the mattress and continue to hold the split necklace. When he lifted his head to look at the nurse, she was surprised to see his eyes red, his cheeks stained from brackish tears. Still kneeling, Chandler accepted the tears that fell from his eyes, finding no need to restrain them or dry them from his skin.
"You can't-" he paused, turning his head towards Monica now, "- let her see Monica."
She shook her head. "Chandler, orders are-"
"No!" he exclaimed, looking now at the woman but still in his original position. His eyes were frantic, his voice was furious and quavering. "She can't see her! She'll-"
Sobs that clutched his throat escaped, and he concealed his face with the bed once more, muffling the sound of his weeping. The nurse walked over to him, gently standing beside his hunched form.
"She has a right to see her own daughter," she replied softly.
Chandler shook his head, his face still against the bed. When he raised his head, his entire face was red and his eyes were bloodshot.
"If you let her see Monica-" His voice quivered, but he continued, "then… she'll kill her."
He didn't wait for the nurse to react. Instead, he took Monica's hand and held it with both of his own, his head buried once more. With each additional tear that flooded the sheets, Chandler gripped Monica's hand tighter.
Judy Gellar knew.
And Judy Gellar would kill.
To Be Continued…
Mhm… so please tell me what you think! I miss all of your feedback. You may not think so, but I read all of your comments closely, and consider everything you say. Please review if you'd like to see me write more! It isn't a threat – I'll write whether you review or not. But your reviews make me such a better writer. And, with more reviews, I'll know that more people want to see this continue – and that'll continue my will to update Forbidden quickly. Please – I live off of your comments! Tell me anything and everything you're thinking about my story at this moment – good or bad!
