Jimmy woke up in a cold sweat and looked suspiciously at the alarm clock on his nightstand.
3:30. Shit, he thought with clenched fists. Again…
Ever since the shooting, vivid nightmares had been haunting his dreams. And each time he had the misfortune to have one, they were always the same.
Each time he would be walking, walking on his own. And every time, he would walk, walk to his locker. And every time, it was like a movie, a movie he already knew the ending to. But, he could never shout loud enough to make himself leave his locker alone. He could never forget about his books.
And he always got shot. He always apologized to Rick, he always saw the boy's pasty skin gleam with sweat, always saw the shiny metal of the gun raised, always felt the pounding of his terrified heart, and then….
Then it strayed from reality. Jimmy had discussed with his therapist what the next part of this dream must mean, and had not been totally convinced.
In his dream, Rick would shout a question at him in the moments before the gun was fired; Rick would shout, "You know why I have to kill you don't you?" And Jimmy would mutely shake his head. Rick would sneer at him, and his grip on the gun would become surer. "Because you're just like me." He would say lightly, and close his eyes. Jimmy would turn to take his last steps…
And then he would wake up. He never saw the shooting, but Rick's invented words hurt just as badly.
Jimmy had told his therapist about the dream, and positively begged her to explain it away. She had instead hit him with a question. "Do you feel like you are just like Rick?" Jimmy had opened his mouth, a vicious "No!" on the tip of his tongue, but something had stopped him. He must, mustn't he? He had made Rick say those words. It was him who dreamed the whole thing up. So he wasn't sure, did he believe those words?
"No." he would say. Because he knew it was true. After all, Hazel was still dating him, right? And she wouldn't date him if he was like Rick. He was safe. He just knew it.
Until now, that is.
OoO
Spinner stood outside of the building he had spent so many hours in, and he sneered at it. So what if they wouldn't let him in it, so what? They couldn't stop him from being here now.
He looked at the watch around his wrist. 3:30. He laughed as he pulled the can out of his pocket.
It was early in the morning or late at night. It just depended on how you looked at it. Just like it depended on how you looked at Spinner. He was evil, or he was stupid. It killed him that even he had doubts as to the right answer.
He looked up at the doors to the school. He felt tears prick his eyes, and he tried to tell himself that the place meant nothing to him, he tried to explain the tears as a symptom of his drunkenness.
He shook the can and took shaky steps up to the entrance. The glass was clear and clean, and he hiccupped. He wanted to hurt this place, wanted to hurt it for all the things it had done to him.
Or all the things he had done to himself. But, he wasn't ready to take the blame.
He pulled the cap off of the top of the can, and set it down. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the bottle of liquor. He uncapped it and took a large swig.
Life wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he had spent every moment here wishing he never had to return, only to have his wish granted and to find himself wishing to be back in the class room.
It wasn't fair that he should make the mistake of taking it too far with the guy who was already too far past sanity. It wasn't fair that he never knew when to stop. It wasn't fair that he betrayed his best friend. It wasn't fair that when he had come clean they had…
That's right, it wasn't fair, but who was he to mope? He was here now, wasn't he? Yes, yes he was.
He picked the can of green paint up, brought it to the window, and tried to depress the button that would release his anger. His hand was shaking too much, and his finger slipped off. He dropped the liquor bottle with his other hand, and watched the amber liquid escape the broken shards of glass.
All he wanted was an escape…
He gently set the spray paint on the top most step and turned around to leave.
Vandalism would not provide an escape. He meandered away from that place, and tried to think through his self inflicted haze as to what would.
OoO
Alex hugged herself tightly as she walked quickly down the darkened street. She had but four blocks until she reached her home, and then…then she could sleep. The thought was comforting, and her eyes felt heavy.
She shook her head, and tried to ignore the fact that it was 3:30 in the morning. She wanted to kill her mother. That was at the top of her list. The fact was, killing the useless waste of flesh that spawned her would do little to help the situation.
The fact was, even if Alex was seriously considering murdering that thing, it would be extremely hard to do. She had no idea where the women was. At all.
After Larry had left the night before, Alex had gone to bed. When she had woken up, her mother was gone. There was a note, and Alex had been supremely surprised.
Alexandra,
Take care of Josephine for me. I can't be here. I can't deal with you two right now. I have to find him.
Goodbye,
Mom
Alex had found this letter completely hysterical, and had spent nearly fifteen minutes laughing so hard that tears pooled in her eyes. And then… then she had become hysterical, and the girl who would rather be seen dead than with tears streaming down her face, was doing just that. And she couldn't breathe for the tears.
She couldn't think, and she couldn't be. And she didn't know how long she had sat on the living room floor, sobbing brokenly, when she came back to the real world, to find her baby sister sitting in her lap, stroking her wet cheeks, and mumbling something only she could understand.
So Alex did what Alex would do. She got herself and her sister dressed, dropped her sister off at her daycare, and went to school. And after school, she had picked her sister up, and brought her home, made her a snack, and played finger puppets with her. When five o'clock rolled around, she had timidly knocked on the door of the crotchety old neighbor women's house, and begged for a sitter for the next few hours.
When the women had lectured her sufficiently about the importance of preparedness, and about how she wouldn't always be able to drop everything and take care of Alex's chores, she had hugged a sleepy Josie, and pulled the girl into the house, leaving a slightly annoyed Alex staring at a closed door.
But, she figured she didn't have too many options, so she had sucked it up, and ran to work. And after work, she had gone to the ravine.
There she had tried to get drunk, but she had failed. Miserably. She just hadn't been able to drink the alcohol, when she knew she should be thinking of a way to fix the situation.
So when a drunken someone offered a sober Alex a profitable idea, she was repulsed and pissed off.
So she had gone home, put Josie to bed, and tried to think of something else to do. She needed more money than her after school cinema job could ever sustain.
She was screwed. And that thought led to others, until she was positively depressed, and then, she had been able to drink.
And once she was pleasantly drunk, she had fancied a walk. After that…it was all a blur.
OoO
Manny sat staring at the alarm clock's glowing numbers. 3:30. I need to sleep. She thought restlessly, as she swung her feet back and forth over her plush pink carpet.
But, that was just it, she couldn't sleep. It was allusive, evasive, and stubborn. She wanted nothing more than the comfort of a few good hours of rest, but her eyes seemed permanently pried open.
Her heart was racing too; she felt sick. Maybe she would ask her mother to let her stay home tomorrow. Yeah, that was a good idea. And though she wanted to continue to ponder the brilliance of her last thought, she suddenly needed nothing more than to vomit.
She rushed out of her room, and into the bathroom across the hall. She barely made to the cool porcelain of the bowl before her retching started, and she continued for several minutes without relief.
She had, apparently, made enough noise to wake her mother, as she was standing in the doorway looking apprehensively at her daughter.
"Manuela?" She asked softly, and walked slowly over to her daughter. "Dear? Are you alright?" She asked crouching next to the violently sick girl, and running her hand up and down her bathrobe clad back.
Manny closed her eyes and leaned against her mother.
"Yeah, mom, I think I'm just getting the flu." She whispered as her mother pulled her into a comforting hug and brushed the sweaty hair off of her forehead.
"Shh... I'll set up an appointment with Dr. Andrews tomorrow, mija." Her mother said as she slowly got up and helped Manny to her feet. "We'll get you on some antibiotics, and you'll be back to normal." She kissed Manny's forehead led her back to her room.
Manny smiled gratefully and slipped between her sheets. "Thanks, Mom." She said softly and closed her eyes, suddenly feeling a lot better.
OoO
Emma stared at the carpet and counted the spots her tears made. There were fifteen so far, and she figured she was just getting started.
She glanced across the room and saw her mother slumped in an armchair, her arms crossed, and a look of unmerciful sleep plastered across her face. Jack was in his bedroom, and…
And Snake was not here.
Snake was spending this night like he had spent every other night this week, in a hospital room, strapped to a million different probing machines, each one designed to help him heal.
And none of them seemed to be working. Emma felt it was the ultimate cruelty to send a man into a prolonged remission, and make him feel alive again, only to have him fall so hard back into the flood of agony his disease tended to make him feel.
She slid down to the floor, and traced her finger around the dots on the floor. She found no comfort in anything these days. She hated that she always felt restless when it was time to rest, and completely unmotivated when it was time to focus.
She hated that she couldn't bring herself to use any of the coping mechanisms that way actually help her. She couldn't talk to anyone, she couldn't tell her friends how much she was hurting. She couldn't cry when anyone would see her. Her mother was so stressed herself, that she wasn't noticing that Emma seemed rather shell-shocked. And Emma couldn't explain to her how she felt.
She couldn't explain this emptiness inside her. Where once there had been a bonfire of hope, there now was only a tiny candle light. She didn't know what would happen to Snake, and it scared her so completely that she felt ill herself.
She felt betrayed. She had trusted Snake to be well. And now he wasn't. She could feel herself becoming angry at him, and that scared her.
She was so scared.
Her tears blurred her vision, and she stared at the slowly ticking clock. 3:30. Emma buried her face in her hands and willed sleep to visit her.
OoO
Liberty sat ripping pieces of paper into smaller and smaller pieces. She was so completely disgusted with herself that she almost felt like doing something drastic. Like getting drunk.
"Argh!" She exhaled roughly and viciously tore a piece of construction paper into four smaller sheets. How could she have done this? She stared at the ever growing pile of paper next to her bed, and cursed aloud at herself.
She felt supremely pathetic. She had awoken earlier from a pleasant dream in which she and J.T. were still together, and happily playing in her hot tub when…she had remembered that they weren't in fact together, and had been reduced to tears.
In an effort to make herself feel better, she had hopped off her bed and pulled a box out from under it. She had wanted to find a picture of the two of them together, hoping that would make her feel better, but instead she had found something that had made her want to throw up.
In the box was an extremely large pile of paper with things such as, 'Liberty + J.T. True Love!' or 'Mrs. Liberty Yorke.', scrawled across them, in cursive writing and pink ink.
And the pile was huge. It had been steadily growing since the first time she had met him, and had received a spike once they had started dating…and now? Now, Liberty wanted to deny that she had ever had a part in anything like this.
She was strong, right? She was independent and forward and…and she wasn't the type to do something like this!
So here she was, she glanced at the alarm clock on her bedside table, 3:30, ripping up enough paper to make Emma have a coronary. She knew she wouldn't ever be able to sleep until all evidence of this pathetic deed was destroyed.
So she continued to fill her room with confetti, but she couldn't force the thought from her head that the reason behind the pathetic notes was still nestled in her heart.
And, she thought, it was starting to turn that organ into confetti.
OoO
Marco sat on his bed in the dim light provided by the street lamp outside his window. He was feeling like he wanted to throw up, and he wasn't very happy about it.
He looked down at the midnight blue comforter he was sitting on and sighed. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run, and scream, and yell until every once of uncertainty was cleansed from his being.
He had spent a year of his life, and come to think of it- Ellie's, figuring out that he was gay. And now? Now he sees one girl in a coffee shop, and all that figuring might as well have gone to hell.
But the thought of that girl wouldn't leave him alone. Ellyn. Her name was just…pretty. He didn't understand what was so special about her. He really couldn't get what it was that made him doubt everything about himself.
I mean, he thought restlessly, I love Ellie, and I couldn't feel like this with her… He felt guilt swirling in his gut at the thought of Ellie. If he wasn't gay, then he should be with Ellie, right?
That was some sort of rule, wasn't it? If he wasn't gay, then he should be with someone he loved, right?
Platonic was the only word that came to mind when he thought of Ellie. And of Ellyn? Attractive. Ellie- Beautiful. Ellyn- girlfriend. Ellie- best friend.
It all felt wrong and tipped over. Marco vigorously scrubbed at his eyes with his hand, and told himself that he must be suffering a prolonged hallucination from the fumes. What fumes? An annoying part of his mind piped in. Any fumes- anything to explain this crazy shit.
He was so confused, and he couldn't stand it. He had done the confused bit before. He had already spent so many months confused and bewildered at the feelings consuming him. It wasn't fair that he had read all of those feelings incorrectly. It just wasn't fair.
And Dylan was in the back of his mind too. He was relieved to find that he still seemed attracted to him. And he still thought that Johnny Depp was a hottie. So what did that mean? Bi-sexual?
He stood up and paced over to his closet, and placed one hand palm against it. He closed his eyes and pushed himself backward. He kept his body rigid and fell to his floor with a muted thud.
His eyes wandered to the glow-in-dark stars on his ceiling, and a sigh escaped him. He felt torn, and wounded. She had laughed and he had heard bells. Those damn bells seemed to be changing everything about him.
He rolled over to face his alarm clock. The bright green read out showed 3:30. He brushed the hair out of his eyes and stood up. He wanted to sleep but it didn't seem possible. Instead he made his way over to his desk and flipped the lamp on. He sat down slowly in his creaky old chair and opened the library book in front of him.
He softly began to read aloud: "Who is John Galt?"
OoOoO
A/N: Ok, guys. This one is a bit shorter than the others, and obviously a filler. I didn't really want any of those in this story, but it needed to be done. I'm working with a pretty complex plot here, and just about every character from the show is in this story, and just about every one of them will have a plot line all their own. So, to that end, I need to make sure you guys feel secure that my story is plausible, and not rushed. Therefore: filler. I just wanted you guys to see into the minds of the characters a little, and be able to help get a leg up on their plots.
About reviews: Those of you who have been reviewing: you are totally awesome. The thing is, I don't like people who beg for reviews, as they annoy the crap out of me. So I don't want to do that. I know that more people are reading it than reviewing, because there's a pretty nifty hit counter I can check. This story is getting hit pretty heavily, but not a lot of people are leaving reviews.
This wouldn't be too big of a deal, except for the fact that I absolutely ADORE constructive criticism. I would really love it if more of you guys would review and tell me what you think. I want to know if the characters are in character, if the plots are believable, if you're confused. I really want to know this stuff, and I'm biased. So, please review and give me your opinions so that I know what to fix.
(To clarify: I'm not saying anything of the sort about needing more reviews to continue, or that I want a lot of: 'Great! Keep it up!' 's. Those are nice and all, but I really am craving some CC. Love to all those that have been so far. Next chapter, I swear, you'll all get mentioned by name.)
