Missing
Wow!I got a review! YAY! And here i was thinking no one would read this:) Anyway, review response!
Last Cetra: I'm glad you took the time to read and review! A sulky romeo eh?well, alright, i wasn't sure how other people would see how he acts. But it's true, Vincent is not the fonz(...that'd be weird!)
Italics are for thoughts and bold italics are for memories, get used to it, Vincent will be remembering alot.
Chapter 2
He slept and slept but nothing ever got any better. He had nightmares every night and went through hell everyday. Even now he had just woken up after a nightmare but he couldn't remember anything other than it was horrible. Somehow he always managed to wake up just before his mother called him.
"Vincent, time to get up!"
He got out of bed and walked over to his dresser. He pulled out a new pair of black pants and a black shirt. Vincent took his wallet out of the pants he was wearing and put it in the new pair. Now for the hard part. There was no way that his left arm would fit through the sleeve of his shirt so he had to remove the prosthectic, put his shirt on and then put the bloody claw back on. He didn't care if he lost the rest of his arm, it'd be easier having no arm at all than having a fake one. But his parents had made the decision for him that he wouldn't lose his left arm.
Vincent went downstairs and got a small bowl of cereal. His mother eyed him, he knew what that meant. Counselling tonight.
His parents had made that decision for him too. They thought Vincent was lashing out at them because he refused to come to terms with Lucrecia's disapearance, maybe he thought she was dead, they didn't know. None of that was it. Vincent wasn't lashing out because Lucrecia was missing. His parents kept trying to intorduce him to people and they didn't leave him alone. They sent him to a phyciatrist to "deal" with his "problems". He knew that Lucrecia was alive he could feel it. Nobody believed him, nobody had hope, they all thought she was never coming back and that he was crazy for even thinking that she was.
He ate very slowly to pass the time but he hardly ate any of the food before going to the bathroom and brusing his teeth. After brushing his long black hair Vincent headed for school.
Cid of course had gone out of his way to be waiting for Vincent as soon as he got to his locker(as usual). The older guy did not look impressed for some reason or another.
"Vincent. What the hell'd you run away for?"
Oh, was that it? Well, I suppose I should prepare for a fight or something.
"I don't need a lecture..." Vincent murmured.
"I think you do Vince. You're #&ed up bad."
Vincent didn't say anything. Why didn't everyone have to bother him? Why couldn't they just leave him alone? That was all he wanted, for people to let him be.
"Are you listening?" Cid asked angrily.
He remained quiet. No one understood what was going on with him, they all thought they did but they didn't. They were just fooling themselves. Vincent ignored Cid's yelling and got his books. Then he stalked away without a word. Cid came after him which wasn't surprising, the twelfth grader hated when people walked away when he wasn't finished speaking. He grabbed Vincent by the shoulder. Vincent turned around and glared at him. He didn't drop his gaze until Cid let go of him.
"Don't touch me."
"Vincent don't go on one of your #&ing... ...things!" Cid yelled.
Vincent said nothing and tried to walk away again. Cid grabbed his arm.
"Don't touch me..."
"You're being an asshole! Everyone is trying to #&ing help you but you keep pushin' all of us away!" Cid growled.
"I don't want help and I don't need help. If I wanted help I would have asked for it."
Vincent clenched his fists. Why didn't Cid take no for an answer? The answer was simple. Because it was Cid. He didn't want to fight him, but he would if he had to. But he just wanted to be left alone. Was that so difficult to understand? He didn't need help from anyone. Not his friends, and certainly not a counseller. He wasn't grieving or angry. Vincent just gave Cid a look that said ' If you come after me I'll beat the crap out of you.' then left.
Cid just shook his head and turned the opposite way that Vincent was walking in.
So first I had to deal with his friends, which shouldn't be an issue, they are my friends...I shouldn't have to keep repeating myself over and over and now I had to deal with my psychiatrist he thought. His day had gone worse than usual. First Cid had bothered him then everyone had to as well. Vincent had been happy to just sit in class staring into space and writing.
"How was your day?" his mother askd as they drove to the psychiatrist's office.
"Puppies frolicked in fields of wildflowers and butterflies flew around me all day."
That was just the answer he gave to throw her off sometimes. According to his shrink he was a sarcastic person. Not only did Vincent's answers throw his mother through a loop, her responses were always award winners.
"...Vincent I wish you would talk to me. Tell me how you feel."
That's what a psychiatrist is for apparently, he thought.
His psyciatrist was a middle aged man who probably needed a girlfriend really badly if he sat and listened to teens with issues all day. Hell, he probably had his own shrink. The man thought he looked pretty cool and hip with his hair(or what was left of it) spiked up but Vincent thought he was an old man remembering his glory days; back when he had hair to spike up.
"So Vincent, how have you been lately?" the psyciatrist, Dr. Roberts asked in his usual laid back manner.
Vincent didn't answer. He wouldn't give the man the satisfaction of getting an answer out of him. Not yet. Instead he looked around the room.
Blue walls and light wood furniture. There were certificates on the wall behind Dr.Roberts' desk. Certificate of graduation from some university of psycology.
"Your mother tells me you've been staying in your room alot since the last time we talked."
'The last time we talked." That statement made it seem as though Vincent had willingly started counselling. He wondered who in their right mind would want to come and speak with some person who thought they understood what was going on with them when in reality that person had no clue. Vincent figured that beign a psychiatrist had to be one of the easiest jobs there was. All one had to do was listen to people drone on about their horrible lives or in Vincent's case, sit there and let a patient waste time by not talking. Apparently psychiatrists got paid fairly well so it was a win - win situation for everyone. Parents get an hour away from their messed up kids, psychiatrist wastes his or her time but gets paid good money for doing so. What a life.
"Is there anything you want to talk about?"
He'd answer this one. He always did. He always gave a different response everytime he came here. If Vincent had to come to the wonderful doctor for much longer then maybe he would either have to answer truthfully or just not speak at all, it could go either way really, it didn't much matter to him.
"Nothing, unless you count me wanting to talk abut leaving here and never coming back."
"I'm afraid you don't have that luxury. You're here until you tell me your feelings," Dr. Roberts said with a shrug.
Then we'll be here a long time, Vincent thought.
"Just tell me what you're thinking right now."
"I'm thinking of how much I want people to just leave me alone..." Vincent said to himself. Whether or not Dr.Roberts heard that statement or not was irrelevant. One statement would change nothing really, in this case anyway.
"Why do you think that?"
You didn't ask why I think what I do you asked what I was thinking Vincent thought to himself. Why did adults think kids were so stupid? Vincent was perfectly aware that Dr. Roberts was attempting to get him to talk more, he thought that he had nearly reached his word quota for this session.
The doctor seemed to be waiting for a response, rather an audible response. Vincent would give him one. No pyschiatrist was going to get the better of him or become privy to his own personal thoughts. Nobody needed to know what he was thinking or why it was that he was thinking that.
"Hey, what would you say if I told you that I love you?" Lucrecia asked with a smile.
"Are you saying it or just asking a question?" Vincent replied, raising an eyebrow.
She sat on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Saying it of course. I hope we stay together forever."
Vincent smiled back at her."I love you too then."
"Are you listening?" Dr.Roberts asked. He sounded slightly annoyed.
Vincent snapped back to reality, the doctor was standing right in front of him. He shrugged in response to the older man's question.
"Do you think she's coming back?" Dr. Roberts asked with a sigh.
"No. I think she's dead. Somebody's killed her and now they've hidden her body somewhere in a rural area. That's what usually happens in these cases, is it not?"
Dr.Roberts looked at him. A warning glance maybe? Vincent could care less. What did it matter if the shrink thought he was crazy? That was his job, to find mental kids and try to make them tell him exactly what they were thinking and feeling. Robots.
"Yes. Lucrecia is dead, I just know it. Her body is probably half decayed by now."
"Oh? Have the polce informed you that she is dead?" Dr. Roberts asked, crossing his arms across his chest.
"No, but when you know someone long enough you just tend to know these things. Do you know what I mean?"
The doctor frowned slightly. "Why do you feel that way?"
Vincent didn't answer. Why was this guy still asking stupid questions?
"Well, if you aren't going to tell the truth then maybe we should end this session for today," Dr. Roberts said as if it was something Vincent would actually care about.
Vincent was sitting on a chair in the corner of Dr. Roberts' office. Sometimes he lied one the floor and stared up at the ceiling just to annoy the good doctor.
"I've heard you write poetry. May I read it sometime?"
"If you can get you hands on it, by all means, " Vincent said casually.
He didn't mind if people read his poems, they were only words after all. But he didn't exactly feel as comfortable allowing adults to read his work, they didn't understand. He was a hypocrite really. But...what did it matter? When people read his poems they tended to feel awkward, as if they had intruded on his thoughts somehow he guessed. It was a bit stupid to think that. He wouldn't have wrote the poems if he didn't want people to know how he was feeling when he wrote it. Regardless, he hated talking about those feelings. It was fine if people saw the emotions expressed but he didn't like to talk about them afterwards. What was the point?
"That's it for today then"
Vincent got up and left the room before Dr. Roberts could say anything more. If it was taken as rude behaviour then maybe it was, but the doctor knew Vincent didn't like to come to his office so he shouldn't expect him to be nice. His mother was in the waiting room, he always wondered why she stuck around, maybe she went somewhere, he didn't know or care.
"Oh, Vincent. How did your session go?"
"Apparently I am completely insane and need to be put in a mental hospital where I will waste away until the of my inevitable death. Naturally I would be put in a straight jacket and stuck in a dark room with padded walls," He answered. Everytime he said something like that his mother got a look on her face like she was scared or something.
"Don't say that honey."
He didn't say anything. Neither did his mother, at least not until they got to the car.
"Why do you have to be so morbid?And in public! Normal people don't say things like that! Why do you care so much what happens to that girl? What about your family and friends? Don't you know we're worried about you?" She cried angrily.
What a fool. Perhaps mother dearest if you hadn't ignored the obvious you would know that Lucrecia and I...
"I don't care."
"Well start! Everyone tries so hard for you but you don't even care!" She yelled, tears beggining to roll down her cheeks.
He just looked at her for a moment then opened the car door and got out.
"I never asked for help," he whispered.
Vincent couldn't stand when people did that, tried to get pity from others. Why didn't people just ask if they wanted sympathy? Then everyone would know exactly whom to feel sorry for and everything would work out.
He decided he'd walk home. He didn't think he could take another lecture from someone today. If his father decided to give him a "talking to" Vincent might just explode. That was not a preferable situation. He sometimes got so angry that he couldn't control himself, that was why he tried not to feel anything at all. He always kept his emotions in check.
Vincent didn't even know if he was going the right way to get home, it didn't matter really. He just walked until he got tired.
Lucrecia...Where did you go? Will I ever find you?
He didn't want to walk anymore. What difference did it make whether he went home or if he stayed where he was? He walked over to the curb and sat down. His kness came most of the way up his torso in this position. He felt shorter. Why that was relevant to anything he wasn't sure, insanity tended to do that to someone. Make them notice things other people didn't or couldn't. Vincent encircled his legs with his right arm. Why did this have to happen? Who has taken Lucrecia, has she just run away? He didn't want to believe that she had run away, left everybody behind. Was it been because of me? Maybe she wanted to find someone that wouldn't write poetry that made people give the authour strange looks and her glances that screamed "You're actually going out with him? Poor you!" Maybe she wanted someone who was sure of what they would do in life, someone that would make lots of money. That was a lie if he ever heard one. Lucrecia had told him how she felt all the time so why was he thinking such things about her?Why did he have to desicrate her memory?
He took her picture out of his wallet and sighed. Lucrecia...Did you just run away or were you kidnapped? Are you still alive or...did you die somewhere...Are you all alone wherever you are? He didn't want to think of her dead, he would have hope that she would come back. But if she had been murdered...what would happen then? He would be chasing a foolish dream. Vincent felt a tap on his shoulder.
He turned around to see who who it was. There was a girl standing there. She had dark hair and had a smile on her face.
"Hello, what's your name and why are you sitting on the curb?"
Vincent didn't answer for a moment. This girl...Lucrecia...so similar...they were almost exactly alike... He almost wanted to call her name. For a moment he saw her standing before him.
"Um...Hello?" the girl asked awkwardly.
Vincent blinked and saw the girl still smiling at him.
"My name is Vincent."
"Oh...Weren't you the guy in the news awhile back?" the girl asked, a thoughtful look on her face.
He said nothing to that. The news had gotten him and his family enough attention already. It was bad enough people had hounded him a year ago but now they still remembered and it had been so long ago. Why did people still remember him?
"Vincent Valentine right? Have they given you any new information about your friend?" she asked.
Why did people have to questions, why couldn't they leave him alone?
"The police would probably give the public any new information on Lucrecia before they informed me," he answered emotionlessly. Maybe if he was cold towards her she'd leave.
"Really? That's kind of rude, I mean jeez. You know her!" the girl cried, obviously surprised.
"It is procedure. There's nothing that can be done about it."
She snorted. "Procedure. That's just a fancy word to cover up their own inability to have compassion for victims."
Vincent wondered why the girl thought that. Usually people had the utmost confidence in the police. But not him, really he never had. He hated the police. They said they were investigating crimes but they weren't.
"My name is Julie by the way. I hope that your friend Lucrecia comes back soon," the girl said.
So, someone still believed that Lucrecia could come back. Either that or she was lying to him, very well actually.
Vincent looked on indifferently as a boy he knew to have a girlfriend kissed another girl. Why someone would do that he didn't know. What was the point of having a person, girlfriend or boyfriend, if you went and screwed around on them with someone else. But that was just how it was now a days. No one really loved or hated each other. Everyone had become so desensitized that nobody could really feel any sort of emotionat all.
He walked past the couple and stopped as he spotted someone he knew very well. Lucrecia, she was in Vincent's english class. She was usually fairly quiet but right now she was screaming. Her boyfriend, that scumbag Hojo, had his hand raised. He's going to hit her. Do something, help her.
Vincent walked quickly to where Hojo was yelling something and grabbed his upraised hand.
"Leave her alone Hojo."
The black haired guy just laughed. "What's this? A little admirer of yours Lucrecia?"
The girl didn't answer but backed away from the two boys.
"Don't you know that hitting people is wrong, or did you miss that lesson?" Vincent asked without loosening his vicelike grip on Hojo's arm, "Oh, nevermind, it was probably today in the class you're skipping."
"Don't you know that chivalry is dead? Mind your own goddamn buisness!"
"Get out of here Hojo," Vincent said quietly and released his hold on Hojo's forearm.
The boy sneered and ran off. To get a Vice Principal no doubt.
Vincent turned his attention to Lucrecia. She looked at him. Her face was white as a sheet but she smiled slightly.
"Thank you Vincent...He wouldn't have hit me...He wouldn't..."
Somehow he doubted that. Hojo's intention had been to give her a slap or a punch in the face, that was clear. That was another thing that confused him. How could people hit their loved ones? An even better question was, why did the people being hit always choose to stay around the person abusing them? He'd never understand that.
"I have to get to class, see you in english," Lucrecia said and walked away.
He'd gotten detention for a week because of that incident. But it had been worth it. Hojo had, of course, gotten off scot free. There had been no evidence apparently and of course Hojo had denied everything.
Vincent saw that Julie had taken off. Probably to call the police on him. So be it. There was no law against sitting on a curb, or at least he didn't think there was.
It was raining. The tiny droplets of water felt like pinpricks on his bare arm and face.
Soon his hair was soaked but not his clothes. It was strange how that worked. His shoes were as waterlogged as they could ever be but he could care less.
There was the sound of sirens in the distance. Hm, maybe mother and father have already sent out a search party. Maybe it was some other person's family looking for their child or they came home and found they had been robbed.
Vincent continued to sit there unaware of the flashing lights, the paramedics, and the police officers around him. Someone embraced him but he didn't know who.
"Vincent! What are you doing here? Why did you run away?" It was his mother. Exactly the person that he was not exactly jumping for joy to see.
"..."
His mother. Here to take him home or to an instituition. Then she would scream at him, say how much he had worried her and his father to death, how this behaviour was outrageous and getting ridiculous.
Paramedics examined him, gave him something hot to drink and a blanket. But he didn't care, he wasn't cold.
Then the police lectured him, asked him all sorts of questions. Did he see a counseller? How many times a week did he go? What was their name? Had he seen or talked to anyone during the time he was sitting on the curb? Vincent said that nobody had approached him though he had seen people walking down the street, it was a free country after all. He was sure Julie didn't need the police knocking on her door asking about some crazed teen she'd talked to so he didn't mention her.
After the police and paramedics were done with him his parents brought him home. His father was very angry and his mother was very upset, he didn't need them to tell him, he just knew by taking a look at their faces.
"Do you know how worried we were? What's wrong with you? All this for some girl?" his father asked angrily.
Some girl. That was what she had been reduced to. Some girl. Vincent didn't answer his father's question, they just wanted to yell at him and didn't expect an answer.
"Your father is right. We know how close you two where but you have to except that your friend may be dead. I'm sorry, it's been a year honey."
Friend. That was all she was to them. First some girl and now she's a friend of his. They said he was ridiculous meanwhile they ignored the obvious. He had tried to tell them that he and Lucrecia were dating but they hadn't listened hell, he didn't know if they even gave a crap. She may be dead. What a comforting thing to say to your son. He couldn't stand it anymore. His parents ignoring the facts, saying how he was being abnormal when he had probably learned it from them and saying they understood his feelings when they obviously didn't.
"You...How do you know...How do you have any goddamn clue? You haven't the slightest idea how much Lucrecia meant to me," Vincent said coldly.
"You're being unreasonable. It has been a year. Do you have any idea how slim the odds are that she is still alive?" his father said. He had always been the harsher one. He had always been the one to punish Vincent when he was younger, his mother tried to put things gently but his father just said exactly what he meant to say.
"Are you telling me to give up hope? Wasn't it you two that taught me to never give up? Now you're telling me the complete opposite. With all these mixed signals I just might go insane," Vincent muttered.
His mother was crying again. Why did she do that? Was it to try and make people feel guilty and stop arguing? If so it wasn't very effective to actually get rid of animosity between two people, Vincent's father kept yelling. Vincent just blocked him out. He was getting into trouble again, for her. Vincent didn't care though, he'd do anything for her.
"Are you listening?" his father asked. If he keeps doing that he'll give himself a heartattack Vincent thought with a mental sigh.
He shrugged his shoulders. This was exactly the behaviour that got him into trouble, or at least he thought it was. With all those mixed signals how could he tell?
Finally his parents stopped their relentless yelling and allowed him to go to his room.
The darkness of his room calmed him. He felt as though he could have lost control. Could he if he was given the chance to? Maybe. Maybe he would kill someone and not even know it. Vincent laughed at that. As much as he sometimes felt he could kill someone he doubted that he could go through with it when push came to shove. He could have never killed Lucrecia. It was a bit ludacris for the police to even suggest it. If that was so then why had the police even bothered to publicaly accuse him? Procedure, of course. He had been the last person to see Lucrecia on the night she'd disapeared so naturally he was to be a suspect even if there was no evidence against him.
Vincent lay down on his bed and pulled his book containing all of his poems from the nightstand and opened it.
So many papers. Some full on both sides, others only had a few lines used. He took a page and ripped it in half. Vincent shredded almost half of the pages until he reached one that had a red stain on it. Blood. Lucrecia had gotten a paper cut from this poem. She still said it was her favourite though. It was about her. She didn't even know but maybe that was another one of his lies. Lucrecia was not stupid, perhaps she had figured it out without him having to say anything. He hadn't told her that those were his real feelings. How he had watched from afar as someone else talked to her, held her hand but then turned around and hit her. He hadn't stalked her, it was easy to find someone when something private was happening. Vincent had been walking to class when he saw she and Hojo kiss. It wasn't unusual, alot of people made out in the stairwells and hallways of the school. When she looked his way and saw him everything felt as if it was moving in slow motion. She had blushed and waved to him awkwardly. That had happened before Hojo had almost hit her. She told him later that she had waved to get because she recognized him and wanted Hojo to stop kissing her like that in public. Vincent could hardly blame her, Hojo was a slimeball in his opinion so he could see why she would do what she did.
"This poem is so tragic, how the person can't tell the object of their affection how they feel. They have to sit there and watch as the person they like is with someone else," she had said.
Then she had gone to put the paper back and cut her finger.
Why couldn't he stop thinking about her? It had been a year and he was still haunted by memories of her. The first few months after Lucrecia's disapearance he had been unable to sleep. The doctor had finally prescribed sleeping pills which helped but Vincent had stopped taking them after only a month. He still had about half a bottle because his mother had gotten more when he hadn' been taking them.
Vincent rolled over onto his side and opened the nightstand drawer. He fished around until he found a bottle. According to the label it was not recommended to take more than two pills at a time. Not recommended. Which probably meant: "Don't take lots at a time or you may begin having convulsions and/or drop dead." To avoid that indefinately Vincent only took two pills.
Within fifteen mintues he was out like a light.
Oh my god. My back hurts! I've been slaving over the computer for the past couple days thinking(foolishly might I add) that if I spread out the workload I wouldn't be dying from pain. Long story short, it didn't. Anyway, tell me what you thought of this chapter. I'll try to update faster next time but I am not making any promises. What with my school exams and playing Fatal Frame 2(expect a fanfic of that to come) I simply have no time:P anyway, goodbye for now faithful review...er.