Holiday- An Instant Star Christmas Story
Chapter 3- Voices Carry
Author's Notes: Just a quick one here, to thank everyone for their warm response to the start of this story. I really needed the support this time; Chapter 3 was a toughie! Besides all the encouragement, it took a self-styled, serious music marathon to make it happen! Plus, it seems to be impossible for me to write these chapters one by one, they appear to come out in pairs... So, good news for you- Chapter 4 should also be out soon. Maybe the duet thing is appropriate... Tommy and Jude are really together here!
Ok... enough of my very random babbling... Anyway, as always, read, enjoy and please review. Remember the "spoiler" promise!
Chapter 3- Voices Carry
Tommy's jaw slackened, as his fingers involuntarily gripped the table in front on him. He stared into the darkness, hypnotized by the answering machine's small red glow. Suddenly exhausted, he crashed down into a chair. His legs could no longer support him; rage filled his blood, weakening his rational mind as well as his muscles. Nothing changed; he felt that same violence the last time he heard that voice.
"I'm your father. You owe me something, Tom"
"I owe you nothing! You killed her! After treating her like crap all these years. And it wasn't just the drinking. You think she didn't know about your other women!"
"I've made mistakes..." James Quincy began weakly.
"She's dead! Is that what you call a mistake? Just stay the hell outta my life! I never want to see you or speak to you again."
"Fine, kid. If you want it that way. Try it like that! But you'll come crawling back some day!"
He just turned away from his father, picked up his large duffel bag and walked out. Never looking back. Repressing all thoughts of him until today; the memories rendered him crazy. He feared them, feared for his own sanity.
Heaviness plagued his body and he dragged himself up. A few steps took him towards the wall unit. Opening a cabinet, he reached for the crystal decanter.
"Just a small one." he promised himself. "I am not my father!"
Truthfully, he never really drank excessively, so frightened was he of losing control. Ironically, over the past four months, he had hardly consumed any alcohol at all. That was because of Jude. Legally, she couldn't, not yet. More importantly, with her in his life, he didn't want to. He didn't need to. She intoxicated him enough. Jude was his addiction and his drug; she brought him higher than he had ever been before. He needed nothing else. Nor would he allow anything or anyone to interfere with that.
"Jude" he thought wistfully, never wanting or needing her more than at that instant. He reached automatically for his phone.
"No" he said, with difficulty willing his hand away.
"She just got home. She's so happy! You can't go dragging her into this. It's not fair. She shouldn't have to see you like this, almost mental. She won't; you can't let her. Just drink. And go to sleep. Forget. Tomorrow, it will be like this never happened."
Tommy hastily swallowed the contents of the glass and made his way to his bedroom. He rooted around his bag, seeking his gray sweats, and found only the pants. Jude still possessed the top. That thought made him smile, relieving the agony just for an instant. He quickly changed and slipped beneath his covers; the bed somehow seeming too big and empty without her.
His lonliness left room for more memories; schizophrenia reigned supreme as other voices played in his head, haunting him.
"Useless, Sarah! I tell you, he's useless!" James Quincy proclaimed with inebriated passion.
"James, he can hear you! Just stop it!" his mother begged, tears running down her face.
"Look at these grades! Stupid kid! He'll never get anywhere like that! Never amount to anything! Maybe if you stopped dragging him to these wussy auditions, he'd bother to study!"
"It's what he wants..."
"Shut up! He's a dumb kid! He doesn't know what he wants! He's too young and stupid to make that choice. So are you! So, I'm gonna do it..."
Then there was the sound of breaking glass. His mother screamed pitifully as his father's fists reached her...
When he was very young, Tommy always ran away during these arguments; Sarah Quincy instructed him to do so. One day, he stopped hiding, choosing instead to finally confront his drunken father.
"I do know what I want! I always have!"
"Music? That's what you want? You're weak! Pansy boy!"
"He's really talented. A prodigy. His teacher said..."
"How many times do I have to tell you to shut up, woman!" James Quincy slapped his wife's face.
"Always taking the kid's side! Screw that! When was the last time you did anything for me?"
Tommy's half-naked form shivered, tossing and turning in the half-empty bed, as the voices droned on, threatening to shatter his overburdened mind. His thoughts segued uncontrollably, inevitably leading to the argument after Darius recruited him for Boyz Attack.
"Boyz Attack! That's what you want? To go shake your butt in a sissy-boy band!"
"It's a great opportunity for me..." Tommy started, then stopped. Why even bother to try to explain?
His father punched his jaw. He fell backwards; his father laughed.
"See if they want you now, with your pretty face all messed up... Just try to sing now!"
His mother helped him up and quickly iced his face. His strong chin would be swollen and bruised, but not broken.
"Just go on, Tommy. Just leave. Tonight." his mother urged.
"I'm so proud of you. Go live your dream!"
A cold sweat beaded his chest; he restlessly kicked off the covers, the exposure of his bare flesh echoing the current vulnerability of his mind.
"There's been an accident, Tom. Your mother was killed. Your father was driving. He was drunk."
The voices continued their merciless taunting, completely exhausting his mind and soul. He could not close his eyes, would not sleep. Tommy was afraid to. Who knew what madness would seize him then? Daylight streamed through the window, as he finally, mercifully blacked out. The nightmares chased him even in unconsciousness.
Finally, somehow, his mind seized upon a different vision. He tasted her lips, felt her perfect body press tightly against his, her arms surrounding him, offering the purest form of comfort.
"Jude" he murmured lovingly.
"Tommy" she whispered back with equal emotion.
His hands found the copper silk of her hair, the irresistible softness of her skin. Tommy screwed his eyes shut, desperately needing this delusion, not wanting the fantasy to ever end.
"Open your eyes now" she commanded.
Somehow, he felt he possessed no choice, and obeyed. He smiled weakly.
"I thought you were a dream."