.

Chapter Three.

Reminiscing.

Christian.

.

.

Sitting in the kitchen, gulping down cold coffee. I don't realize that morning's come around again, until my housekeeper Gail appears and starts busying herself with breakfast utensils. She jumps with a startled gasp when she finally notices me, slumped, despondently, at the breakfast bar.

"Oh, sorry, Sir." She apologizes automatically, holding my eye and reading my tired, gaunt looking face.

"It's fine, Gail." I mutter as I break eye contact with her, stand, then head over to the sink to deposit my dirty cup.

"Sit back down, Sir. I'll prepare you some breakfast." She states purposely, heading toward the fridge.

"I'll take a shower first." I reply quickly. Shaking my head further in decline, when it looks like she's going to open her mouth to insist.

I don't need this from her right now. It's the last thing I need.

I have to get out of here. I need more space and time to myself. I need a chance to clear my head.

Gail's eyes follow me as I begin to walk out of the room. I know she's looking at me with her usual compassion and maternal sympathy. Sympathy, that I don't deserve. She's done it for years, blatantly. The real annoyance from it has long gone, but it still grates on me sometimes, how concerned she can be for me. I don't deserve it... I never have.

"Are you alright, Sir?... Is there anything Jason or I, can do for you?" she asks, her soft voice catching me just before I exit the room.

I hear her telling tone and my body slumps in on its self. Gail knows about my father. She knows what time of year it is. She knows how bad it can get for me. She also knows how my past haunts and torments me. She's witnessed my inner pain, heard it numerous times. She's watched me wallow for long enough and I know she feels for me, she can't hide it, but I don't deserve her pity. She wouldn't give it so compassionately if she knew the truth.

I mutter, a "No, thank you." as I head away, knowing that Gail is still watching me closely. I can feel her eyes burning into the back of my head.

Why are woman so intuitive? How can they know so much, without knowing anything at all? Has she noticed that my nightmares have been increasing? Has she noticed the change in them? Does she realize that it's been Ten years since that night?

Of course she does. She appears to miss nothing.

Fuck. I can't believe it's been Ten years. Where has the time gone? It feels like it happened only yesterday. So much time has gone by, yet nothing has eased inside of me. Nothing has changed. The fact still remains that I destroyed my family, killed an innocent child, and there isn't another living soul that knows what I did.

After escaping Gail's burning gaze, I walk blindly through my apartment. Concentrating on the image of the life I took, I allow my brain rare permission, to stream her youthful face. Her chestnut brown hair, her bright blue, expressive eyes, her wide, toothy grin, all flash before me as I reach my bedroom.

As I cross the room and enter the bathroom, I strip off all my clothes. Stepping under the hot spray of the shower, I allow that night to unfold in my mind's eye. I brace myself, my palms flat against the shower wall as the water cascades over me from above. The heat, from the near scalding water, hardly helps, to keep the trembling within me at bay, but I focus on it anyway as I force myself to reminisce.

.

Who knew, that a fight in school would change everything. A five minute scuffle with some mouthy, dumb jock, would put me on the path that would lead me, and others, to so much tragedy and sadness. With the loss of so many lives.

My brow furrows with frustration and deep, deep regret as I think of the boy I was in my youth. How rash, impulsive and angry I'd been back then. How stubborn and foolish. I close my eyes tightly as I unwillingly, travel back.

I had gotten myself into yet another fight at school, for no real reason, other than I was bored. I'd headed home after being released by the principle, expecting the usual backlash and weak attempt at a punishment from my parents. I sneaked in through the back of the house, and found them both in my father's study.

I listened to their raised voices, sitting on my gym bag, hidden under the staircase outside the open door. I slumped against the wall, rolled my eyes and cursed to myself, hiding the growing frustration and guilt I was feeling as their conversation proceeded, and my mother's voice grew more and more upset.

"Carrick, we have to do something." I hear my Mother implore. Tears, stress, and surrender, all clear in her tone.

I mutter under my breath. Why the fuck is she over reacting so much, this time? It was only a fight. Shit, she'll probably suffer a coronary when she gets a load of my busted up lip. Fuck. I don't need this crap from her now.

"He can't carry on like this. Principal Harris, has threatened to expel him if it happens again." my Mother's voice reaches me and my ears prick up. This is new. Harris, never mentioned anything about that whilst grilling me after school. The sly fucker.

"I know, love." my Father appeases, trying to calm her down, using his well practiced tone. "I'll talk to him once he's home. I'll..."

"Carrick. We've grounded him, confiscated his things, restricted and withheld all his privileges. How will talking to him, help?" she interrupts him, sounding more than exasperated.

"It has too, and if not, then we'll think of something. We could..." Dad begins.

"Elena, has offered a suggestion. A solution, to keeping him busy and out of trouble. She thinks it would be good for him to spend some time at her place. She's having quite a bit of work done over there, he could help out. Just a few hours after school and maybe over the weekends. It could be just what he needs, Carrick. Physical labour never hurt anyone." my Mother states, before my Father can say anything more.

Fuck no. I almost curse out loud.

The last thing I need is to be stuck at Mrs Lincolns place every night. I won't get away with anything over there, not even a sly smoke or quick drink. She may be my Mother's friend, but she's definitely no push over like my Mother. So no, fuck that.

"I really don't want to burden her with him, though, but it's something to consider if all else fails." my mother's voice continues, in her long suffering tone. The tone, she uses only for me.

"We need to find something for him to focus all his energy on." my Father says as if it's the answer to everything.

"We need to help him Carrick, before he gets thrown out of school. Something like that will follow him around and mar his record permanently." my Mother says, sounding genuinely worried for me.

"I'll take him camping for a few days next week. We haven't been up to the lake for so long, he used to love it up there when he was younger. I'll talk to him, try to get it through to him that his behavior needs to change. Maybe find out what's wrong with him."

"It could be just what he needs, thank you, Carrick" my Mother gushes gratefully, all her problems suddenly solved.

I tune out their voices as they iron out the details, falling back further in on myself. "Yippee." I mutter sardonically, from my spot under the stairs. Just what I need, a week of lectures, sermons and fishing.

.

We went camping. We went up north, to a campsite that we'd visited a hundred times before. A campsite with log cabins, a lake for fishing, trees to trek through, and fuck all else. I was bored stiff after the first day but behaved and towed the line. I listened to my Fathers lectures, promised to be good, vowing to grow up and not cause my Mother any more heartache once we returned home.

Oh, if only we knew what was to follow.

The highlight of the week was when Dad was busy with an important call from his office, leaving me free to wander around the lake alone. I heard a splash, a yelp, a loud continuous scream and knew instinctively that something was wrong.

I followed the sounds on eager and rapid feet and when I took in the scene in front of me, I acted on impulse. Without a second thought I ran, diving straight into the water, managing to save the struggling pup. The girl, who's dog it was, kissed my cheek in gratitude, when I climbed out of the water and handed over her sodden, ball of fur.

I was shocked by her brief kiss and felt my cheeks heat, but I blew it off. Despite, how her lips felt warm on my skin and the instant calm I felt within myself at her touch. I shrugged my embarrassment, and my reaction to her, off nonchalantly, just like the teen I was.

Despite her youth, the girl acted and sounded so much older than she really was, whenever we talked over the next few days. She was quiet, somewhat uncoordinated, but had an opinion, and there was a depth to her blue eyes that pulled me in whenever she spoke.

I remember thinking that it should've been a drag having her following me around all day, but she was okay for a girl. I told myself that I missed my annoying sister Mia, so could tolerate her, but it was more than that. Plus, her dog was kind of fun to kill time with.

On the day she was due to go home, I played it cool. I left to go fishing with my dad, knowing, that I'd never see her again and didn't think anything of it. She looked kinda sad, waving goodbye to me as I petted Tess, but I never gave it much thought. I knew I'd genuinely miss the dog though, and pondered for a minute if my parents would ever let me have a dog. I remember laughing to myself as I scratched behind Tess's ears at the absurdity of having a dog in my parents' home, especially a long haired one, like Tess.

I never knew how wrong I could be.

I wish I had.

A few hours later, Dad and I were heading back to the campsite. We were arguing. I'd gotten bored out of my mind whilst fishing and was behaving like the stropy, belligerent, teenager that I was. Dad, was driving, and turned to scowl at me, glaring over his shoulder, after I'd muttered some flippant remark in retort to what he'd said.

He didn't see the deer in the middle of the road, not until it was too late. There was nothing he could do. He swerved on the bend into the opposite lane, and hit the oncoming car head on. There was no avoiding it. It all happened in the blink of an eye.

I was shocked to the core by the force of the impact. The momentum, jerking my body violently, sending my head forward into my knees. I remember feeling a short, sharp pain in the back of my head, but it was overridden by a deafening sound.

I can still hear the crack of my dads head as it hit the side window of the car to this day. I knew at that moment that he was dead. He was dead before the car bounced back to the road and held still.

I lift my head, until the hot water of the shower pounds against my forehead. I know the visuals I'm about to replay will be painful. I'm going to skim, keep it brief, but I still need all the comfort I can get. The hot water barely distracts, but it's something.

Closing my eyes, I watch, in what appeared to be slow motion as the car we'd hit, turns and flips a few times, before it's stopped abruptly by the trees that line the side of the road.

The smell of gas hits me as I take in my surroundings and I go into action. Freeing myself from my seatbelt, I climb over the seat to get to my dad. He looks like my dad, smells, and feels like my dad, but the light has gone out of his eyes. A flash of my mothers face, along with how this will affect her, goes through my head, but I shake it off, I can't think about that right now. I have to get him out.

Freeing my dad from his seatbelt, I push the door beside me open, and pull him out swiftly. With all my strength, I drag him away from the wreckage as far as I can, away from the smell of gas that's growing stronger and more potent. I look up, assessing the danger and damage to the car we've hit, and despite the state it's now in, I recognize it instantly from the camp site.

Ana.

I quickly, lay my dad down on the soft grass and run over. I hear the dog first. She's whimpering, loudly, and I can hear her paws scratching at her crate with urgent, desperation. Ana's frantic sobbing reaches my ears as soon I reach the car. She's hanging upside down, stuck, scared, panicking and pulling at her seatbelt, frantically.

I try to pull open the door, but it won't budge, it's all bent and crushed out of shape. The glass has shattered, gone from the windows, so after covering my hands, I drop to the floor and crawl in on my elbows to reach her.

It's cramped, the car all condensed and contoured, giving me no real room to move. I struggle to free her, pulling and tugging on her belt, but the locks secured by her weight and just won't budge. I realize it's futile, and I'm wasting valuable time.

I can almost taste the gasoline fumes now, and it's only getting worse.

I need to cut her free. I need to cut her free... Now.

I feel my heart begin to pound in my chest because I really don't want to do this. I hate reliving this, hate thinking about this, so, it has to be brief.

I try to calm her, reassure her, but she's so young and scared. I am too, but I will never admit that to her. I shuffle back out of the car unnoticed, Ana's dazed, shocked and upset over the loss of her dad, so I use that to my advantage.

I run to the trunk of my dads car, digging around in his fishing kit until I find the small gutting knife he has. The smell of gasoline is stronger over here, and I can see smoke begin to rise from the back of Ana's car.

We don't have much time.

I head back to Ana quickly, clambering back into the car eager to cut her free. I'm rushing, scared, worried about her falling, but I lock my arms and shoulders and prepare myself as best I can. I try to keep my trembling at bay as I slice sharply through the belt, but as soon as it severs, Ana drops like a stone to the side of me.

I'm jolted into her as the car tips, and I feel the knife enter her chest effortlessly, and I can't breath.

Then and now.

I turn off the shower and I try to compose myself. My breathing is deep and sluggish. My body seems to weigh a tonne and I need to sit down.

I grab a towel as I cross the room and after wrapping it around my waist, I sit on the bed, put my hand in my head and rest my elbows on my knees. I breathe deeply, focusing on the drops of water that are falling from my hair and body and pooling onto the hardwood floor in between my feet. Anything, to distract me from the memories that are still rolling through my head.

Once I could smell the blood, I panicked, cursed myself and shuffled quickly out of the car. Realizing what I'd done, I took hold of Ana as soon as I could. Keeping my eyes away from the blood, rapidly soaking into her shirt. I dragged her out and carried her to safety, keeping my eyes firmly on hers.

I remember my stomach plummeting, when I heard the dog howling desperately behind me.

As I lay Ana down on the ground, she felt lifeless, like a rag doll. She was weak, growing more drowsy by the second, but I still heard her soft voice begging me.

"Tess, please help, Tess." she whispers, and I knew she was slipping away from me. I could see it in her paling complexion. Feel it as her body grew more and more limp.

How could I refuse her dying wish...

I pulled off my shirt and pressed it firmly to her chest. I knew it wouldn't help. I knew she was losing far too much blood for it to do any good. I knew she was waining. I knew she was slipping away from me.

I suddenly can't breathe and pull myself out of my memory to take control of my constricting chest. It's always been easier to recall, than relive.

I remember, wanting to stay with Ana, I needed to try and help her, but I had to ease her first. I remember kissing her forehead as I left her, can still feel the sensation from her skin on my lips if I concentrate hard enough.

How could I ever forget it... Ever forget her.

I left her, knowing it was a bad idea. Knowing what could happen, knowing what would probably happen, but this was my punishment, my penance... For hurting her.

I don't remember crossing the road, my feet moved of their own accord, but I do remember feeling the heat, hearing the strange crackling, sparking noises as I got closer. I remember feeling my throat burn from the thick, intoxicating fumes I was inhaling.

I know, I crawled back into the wreckage as far as I could in order to reach the dog crate that was wedged into what use to be the back of the car. I knew, I was on borrowed time while daring to do this and thankfully Tess, was fully aware of the danger we were both in. She jumped swiftly into my arms once I got her crate open, enabling our quick get away.

I remember stepping away from the car, wanting to head back to Ana. I remember holding a trembling, scared, Tess, close to my chest, feeling relief, and taking comfort from her pounding heartbeat and warm coat next to my bare skin, but it was short lived.

I wasn't quick enough. No where near quick enough.

From there on out, things get a little bit hazy, but I drift along with it anyway.

I remember feeling a searing heat and an overwhelming force, hit me from behind simultaneously. I remember my legs being taken from under me as I was thrown forward by the explosion. I remember feeling a white hot pain, like I'd never felt before and my entire body going numb.

I remember hearing blood curdling screams and high pitched whimpering, and I can still smell the sickening, reek of burning hair and flesh in my nose, and I don't know, even now, if it was hers or mine.

I remember catching a glimpse of Ana as I hit the ground and she was lifeless, her eyes were closed and her body was limp.

She'd gone.

Knowing, that the young girl was dead, was the last conscious thought I had, before I was lost to the intense pain and oblivion of darkness that I was caught up in.

I woke, a few days later, laying face down on a hospital bed with the overwhelming feeling that I was throbbing from head to toe. My skin felt hot, tight, distorted, and I was grateful for the pain medication that made me groggy and unable to move.

As my eyes adjust in the dimly lit room, the first thing I notice is Mia sleeping. She's curled up, on a small, portable cot in the corner of the room, her face, even at rest, is all red and puffy from crying. My Mother, is sitting on a chair next to my bed, weeping quietly into her phone. She's clearly heartbroken and retelling the tragedy of losing her husband, and updating my progress, to someone on the other end.

"M..mo..." I attempt to say, but my throat is ripped raw.

"Oh, Christian." she exclaims, dropping her phone and leaning over me urgently. I ignore the pain that radiates from my head down to my toes as she kisses my temple.

"Oh, my darling boy, you had me so worried." she sobs, close to my ear.

"Dad.. Mom... I'm... sor.." I try to murmur. My throat, loosening, but still painfully tight. She shakes her head as she shushes me quietly.

Her tears pool and pour as she sits back down. Looking at me with a face full of heartache, she begins to tell me what I already know. Somehow, I hoped, it had all been a bad dream. My thoughts are all disjointed and confusing and at this moment, I'm not sure what's real, what's true. Ana.

"He didn't make it Christian... the police said he was already... it was an accident... he... you got him out... oh, Christian." she sobs and her head comes to rest on the bed beside mine.

I feel the tightening in my chest and throat as the guilt, and pain, grips me. My eyes sting as my tears begin to fall heavily, and I just want to comfort her, beg her for forgiveness. Hug her.

"Mom, I... girl.. Tess..." I utter, as my head suddenly begins to swim with images of Ana and what happened to her.

Mom raises her head and frowns down at me as she brushes away my tears. "Girl?" she questions. "No one else came to the hospital with you... you were the only one who... oh, you mean the dog? You wouldn't let her go." she says softly as she smiles at me indulgently.

I attempt to move and lift myself, but it's too much. A wave of nausea and pain hits me as I slump back onto the bed. I hear Mom calling for the doctor as I groan, painfully.

"Hold still Christian, please, you're badly injured. You've severe burns on your back and neck, you need to lay still." she urges, as a nurse rushes into the room and begins assessing me, and fiddling with the beeping, machines that surround me.

"Bu..but.." I attempt, needing to know what happened to Ana.

"Don't fret Christian, the pup is going to be fine, she's still at the veterinarian hospital, but Elliot is picking her up in the morning. Her fur was badly burnt and she was in a lot of pain, but she's going to be okay." my mom assures me, but it's not what I want to hear.

"No, wh...where..." I try and ask.

"You're in the burns unit, at Seattle Grace, honey." the nurse beside me says soothingly as she inserts a syringe into the drip I'm attached to.

"No..no one... else sur...viv..ed?" I slur, as I instantly begin to feel the effects of the administered pain relief.

"You were the only one brought into the hospital, sweetheart." the nurse says compassionately as she finishes attending to me.

"I'm sorry... Mom." I whisper as my eyelids grow heavy and my mind starts to shut down. Guilt, regret, and immense pain are pushed aside as the medication take immediate effect.

God, I wish I had that luxury now.

Days later, when I was a bit more coherent, I asked my mom, to check the hospital for Ana. There was no record of her. I asked all my attending nurses to find out what happened to her, but they all looked at me sadly as they confirmed that I was the only one brought in that night.

Everyone else had gone to the morgue.

Ten years ago, tomorrow. I destroyed my family, broke my mom's heart... took the life of a young girl... and nobody knows anything about it.

No one, can ever know about it, but how does a person live with that type of secret?

How can a person keep that to himself, carry that around, and still stay relatively sane?

Simple...

They can't.

.