Chapter Thirteen

She fought to open her eyes, but the haze that suppressed her was too thick. Brief pricks of pain stabbed at her as she battled for the light that she knew followed the darkness which now enveloped her. She attempted to move, and was unsure whether she was successful or not. It felt as if someone was roughly placing something within her flesh, and, suddenly, a cutting, unsparing surge of agony swept throughout her flesh. Through instinct, she screamed. She wasn't sure if the scream had actually erupted from her lips, or if it was simply her mind screaming.


A gentle trickle of blood seeped through his bandage, and Chandler merely placed his hand above it to ease the flow. He sat stiffly on a wooden bench just near the park's set of swings, which were occupied by two children of about seven years of age. As Chandler watched the two, he noticed the smiles that formed their face's adornment. He smiled in spite of himself.

"Hey," someone called softly from behind the bench. Chandler slowly turned around to face Ross, who nervously placed his hands in his pockets and traced the tip of his right shoe with the dirt underneath him.

"Hi," Chandler replied, turning back to face the children on the swings.

Ross halted his foot and walked cautiously over to the side of the bench. "Mind if I join you?"

Chandler didn't respond. Instead, he gestured his right hand towards the vacant spot on the bench, indicating for Ross to sit. Ross obeyed and perched himself next to Chandler.

For several minutes, the two merely stared at the boy and girl who tried to swing at an increasingly ascending height, giggling when the other lost balance and rattled the swing from side to side. Chandler's gaze shifted towards the sky, in which several clouds gradually multiplied to form an enlarging rain cloud. The silence was broken by the slight shuffle of Ross's feet.

"So - I'm guessing you're wondering why I'm here," Ross finally said, glancing at Chandler.

As he always did when he was nervous, Ross cleared his throat several times. When Chandler said nothing and merely remained staring at the forming storm in the sky, Ross looked back at the swings. The children were no longer there.

A breeze progressed into a slight gust, and the sun's warmth had completely disappeared beneath the blanket of clouds. As winds received strength and blew fallen, pale leaves across the ground, those in the park began to scatter home. Before long, Chandler, Ross, and the park's settings were all that remained. Ross, who grew increasingly nervous, decided to stare up at the sky, as Chandler had been doing for the past several minutes. A lone raindrop spilled into his eye. Ross quickly closed his eyelids and rubbed them, trying to ease the sting.

"What did you tell her?" Chandler finally murmured as several raindrops fell from the spurting clouds.

Ross paused and looked at Chandler, his left eye now colored red. "What? Who?"

"Judy. Your mother. What did you tell her?"

After hesitating for a few moments, Ross replied, "Nothing."

Chandler tore his gaze from the sky to lay his eyes upon Ross. "If you're here, then it's because of Monica."

"Well, yeah, but I didn't tell my mom anything."

Chandler shrugged with one shoulder, then looked at the floor. "Then why are you here?"

Ross continued to eye Chandler. "It's nothing urgent. And it's not exactly news. Nothing happened…"

"Okay, Ross. Just tell me why you're here. What's important enough to risk being seen with Chandler Bing?" His words were bitter and hurried.

To Ross, it seemed as if Chandler wanted to get away from him as soon as possible. To Chandler, the words were hastened only because he knew that Judy Gellar would always be close.

"I just wanted to let you know…" Ross sighed and stood from his seat, "… I'm on your side, Chandler. Don't doubt that. I'm only here to help you. I want to see my little sister happy, and it's only been because of you that she's ever been happy."

Ross began to walk away from Chandler and towards his home. Chandler stood as well, turning to watch Ross leave.

"Are you sure that's the only reason you came here?" Chandler called after him.

Ross, who was now yards away, rested his steps to turn and face Chandler. For a few seconds, he merely stared at Chandler, and Chandler back at him. At last, Ross gave a single nod, and continued with his journey home. Chandler sat back down, easing his back onto the support of the bench.

The several raindrops soon multiplied, and the storm that Chandler had witnessed forming now enveloped him in a smothering embrace.


The drawers that once held firm positions within the dresser now lay separately on the carpet, its contents spilled over the floor as well. The drawers of the desk were left open, the closet doors opened as well, exposing what was within the small space.

Judy, taking a sip of the vodka that lay beside her, rummaged through one of the drawers. After a few moments of digging through clothes, she came upon a picture of Chandler and Monica. She took the picture in both of her hands, tore it in half, and tossed it aside.

A shuffling was heard behind the closed door, and Judy tried to hide the liquor that was in her hands. Before she could toss it within the closet, Ross came into the room. He stopped his stride and merely looked at his mother, who stared back at him, guilty of the mess in Monica's room and the drunken haze that surrounded her. Ross eyebrows furrowed and a frown formed from his lips as he watched Judy place the bottle onto the floor and rise to her feet.

"Ma, what are you doing?" he asked quietly, now looking at the clutter of Monica's things.

His eyes fell upon a heap of objects that now lay torn in pieces. He walked over to the pile and knelt before it, rummaging through it and seeing that it was everything that confirmed Monica and Chandler's relationship. Each object lay in scattered fragments. Only Monica's journal to Chandler was left unharmed and propped beside Judy's feet.

"Just tidying up," she finally replied, walking over to Ross and shoving the torn possessions away from him. "When Monica wakes up, I except her to come to a nice, clean room." She smiled.

Ross glared at her smile, not in the least amused by her act. Yet his lips curled into a smile. "Oh, okay."

He stood from his knees, kissed his mother's cheek, and walked out the door.


Soaked from the storm that was now erupting violently outside, Chandler dragged his feet over the tiles of the hospital floor. When he reached the desk, the familiar nurse smiled at him.

"Hello, Chandler. How are you today?" she greeted light-heartedly.

Normally, Chandler would have returned the smile and salutation. Today, however, he was so worn that he could only manage a slight nod. The water from his hair slowly dribbled to the sides of his head, and the moisture from his coat fell into a puddle that surrounded his feet. Deep shadows under his eyes were the proof of his increasing fatigue.

"May I please see Monica?" he asked tiredly, his voice showing little emotion.

The nurse, despite her smiles, shook her head solemnly. "Chandler, I told you the other day that it's family only – and Monica does have family."

Chandler's venom slowly began to seethe its way onto his expressionless face. "What? Well what about what I told you about that insane mother of hers?" Chandler remarked, his voice now matching his angered face.

"You can't expect me to believe that her mother would kill her own daughter. You're distraught, dear. Your grief is consuming you, and you'd like to believe that only you should be able to be Monica's anchor. It's normal to think that everyone else is against you and her, especially under such circumstances…"

"Damnit, I'm not hallucinating!" Chandler suddenly burst, slamming his closed fist onto the desk. "That woman is insane. Not all of those marks were created by Joey Tribbianni – that woman wants nothing to do with the well being of her daughter!" His voice continuously elevated, making the nurse and the people around him increasingly nervous.

The nurse stood from her seat and walked over to Chandler, placing a hand on his shoulder. Chandler stepped back, making her hand fall to her sides. "Sweetheart, you're distressed. Please, just sit down in the waiting room. She has been showing progress. Who knows, maybe she'll wake up soon."

"I don't need your pity, and I don't need your condolences," Chandler spat. Chandler glared at the nurse, slowly shaking his head. "Don't pretend she's okay."

He tore his flaming eyes from her and began to walk heatedly over to Monica's room. Yet instead of entering the room, he dropped himself into a plastic chair that stood before it.

Burying his hands in his face, Chandler wept.


The haze began to thin, but the pain only intensified. Muffled sounds were audible to her ears, yet she could make sense of nothing. The darkness was becoming shades lighter. Her mind was swept with ideas of what was happening, yet none could be proven to her.

Was she dying?

Suddenly, the increasing pain burst into an explosion of agony. Her mind screamed at her. Nothing but the pain that stifled her existence enfolded her mind, as she began to thrash her body aimlessly, trying to escape the suffering that befell upon her.

She was sure she was dying a slow, painful death.


Judy sat in the seat beside Monica's bed, a bottle of liquor in her hands yet again. She smiled sinisterly and splashed some of the liquid onto her daughter's face. She laughed when seeing that her daughter could do nothing to wipe her face.

Why Judy came to see Monica for the second time in two days was unknown even to Judy herself. Part of her believed that it was because she found simple, pure satisfaction out of seeing her so helpless. The other part of her believed it was because, there, her anger could constantly be fueled.

"Everyone wishes Daddy were still alive, little Harmonica." She took a swig of the alcohol, her eyes never leaving the limp body of Monica. "I, on the other hand, wished I had never met him. Without him, there'd be no you." She placed the bottle onto her lips to scour more of the beverage that she held in her hand, but found it empty. She dropped it into the waste bin next to her. "Monica, what a troublemaker you are."

She stood from her seat and moved closer to Monica.

"Why couldn't you have been a good little girl and followed my example? Better yet, why couldn't Daddy just allow me to make my own decisions?" She inched towards Monica, her steps uneven. When she reached the bed, she put her face inches away from Monica's. She smiled once again. "Monica, you cannot blame your life on anybody but yourself."

She sneered and walked back to her chair. "Monica, if you just died now, your would put yourself and me through much less hassle." She leaned back in her chair, watching Monica with no loving passion that mother should have.

And as Monica opened her eyes slowly and painfully, Judy watched without bliss.


To be continued…

I would first like to thank all of you for reviewing – you guys truly make writing worthwhile :) Please review for this chapter… I need to know if people are continuing to enjoy this. And if you don't like it… tell me why not, please! Your constructive criticims only helps me improve :D