Falling Through the Cracks
by Aimme,
with touches by My Note Book

Summary: His mask was flawless. His walls were perfectly structured. Protection and cautionary containment at its finest. Even a perfect pretend held fractures, though, and no matter how strong his glue, under the right circumstances, glue cracked and had to be gutted and filled in again.

Author's Note: Like last chapter, this is one I have waited forever to get to, and though there were complications outside of writing with getting to write this during this last week, I had a good time writing this, seeing the way, as the chapter title says, the thoughts possess. I have never written in this form, either, and plus I have never tried to write the physical ailment that is in here like this before. Here's to hearing your thoughts! If the last chapter was dark, then this is intense...

Anonymous Reviewer, thank you! I was flattered and ecstatic when I read your review. I worked really hard on the last chapter, the tense, and so I was very happy to read your words. And I thank you for the compliment on my writing style! I think I want to see a squealing writing teacher full of glee now... :grins: I think Zack has had a lot of time to think about it; it hasn't been said yet, but I'm banking on it having been years. Thank you for the birthday wishes! And yes, in reference to Cody's nearly perfect attendance record, I was referring to the episode in the first series, called What the Hey?, wherein the twins miss the bus and Zack convinces Cody to ditch school and come hang out with him at the mall. Do not apologise! It was not too long. Too long? What is this? There is no such thing as a review that is too long! I enjoy hearing the thoughts of my readers as thoroughly as I can, so...I gobble up every word!

BlackKeys97, it was indeed disturbing. At times, I had to stop writing and go do something else or get up from the computer. And it is quite horribe to realise how many different ways there are, isn't it? And that he's pondered them! I like what you said, "he is smart, just not about the right things." I think this sums up some things very nicely! If it made you want to cry, then I have done my job—evoking an emotional response from my reader. I hope he pulls through, too, but you may not be so happy when you start reading this chapter... Wow? A favourite chapter? I am flattered! Thank you! I appreciate your kind words. Thanks for the birthday wishes, too. You feel like you got a present? Yeah, I kind of did that this year. It's a very hobbit thing to do, give gifts on your birthday. But I did that. I had a gift for my parents, which had all three of us crying, as they never saw it coming and I could scarcely believe it was real, that I had accomplished what I had. It was neat. Anyway...

Forward, to the story! Forward, to the angst! Let us go with all purpose, straightaway...

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Chapter Thirteen - These Are the Ways the Thoughts Possess

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Fears whisper, and demons haunt, they scream
Yet my tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth
And my lips are frozen, hiding all that seems
To hold a grip on keeping me from being found out

'No. I'm not going to do that.'

'Why? Too scared?'

'No!'

'Oh yeah?'

'Yeah. I've got nothing to be afraid of, because I'm not going to do it.'

'Ha! That's a laughably pathetic way of justifying it. You are ridiculous.'

'I am not!'

You try to fight back, convinced you have to wrestle free of the hands determined to drag you down.

'Oh, stop denying it. Stop fighting it. You will never win.'

'I'm not fighting anything; there's nothing to fight.'

'I suppose you justify that by claiming there is nothing to fight because there is no threat. So why is fear chilling your heart?'

'That's not true.'

'Yes, it is. It grabs your heart, Zackary, and from there it runs its freezing fingers throughout your body with the assistance of your veins, those pathways for blood you are insistent upon wearing thin—that blood you are insistent on draining.'

'But I'm not.'

'Then what do you call this?'

You look in listless silence, dispassionate indifference staking a claim on your mind, at the newest addition for your carefully hidden collection of scars.

'I call that euphoria wrapped in danger, release wrapped in loneliness and despair. I call that you.'

Your eyes fall, downcast.

'You're losing it, Zackary. It is inevitable.'

'I won't!'

'Give it up, already. You're free-falling, and it's not going to look up.'

'I'm bound to hit rock bottom, but it won't be that.'

'You've already hit rock bottom, Zackary. You hit rock bottom and it crumbled out beneath you.'

'Stop.'

'It crumbled out, and you're only falling deeper.'

'Stop.'

'You're never going to get out.'

'No! Stop it!'

'There is no getting back up from here.'

'Shut up!'

'You're pushing the inevitable, but the farther on you go, the worse you're going to be. Get it over with.'

'No!'

You shudder.

'Why do you keep fighting? You're falling apart, your strength is zilch. Zackary, you are done for. Embrace it.'

'Stop…'

A sweat breaks out on your brow. Your breathing speeds up, becomes heavier. A rush of tingling infuses your fingers, pins and needles pricking, pricking...

'Do you feel that weight? Do you feel that deadly promise?'

You can't breathe. Your lungs are heavy and lax, your chest too tight. Your breath is quick, sharp and choppy, but it does not help.

'Nothing will help. Nothing and no one will help you now. You're beyond help, and those that are beyond help…'

'Please just stop.'

Your will crumbles beneath the onslaught, your fight broken and pleading for mercy. Breathe, breathe, breathe…

'Oh so useless. And you, oh so worthless. Try to catch a breath, you know you can't.'

Your lungs close off and the wheezing taking over you will not release. You can't breathe, you can't breathe…

'And just like that, you're never going to catch a grip and climb out. You're plummeting and there's no stopping it. This is the end of the line for you.'

Your eyes widen, panic closing off your mind, confining the echoes of those Voices within the ravaged landscape of thought. You can't breathe…you're going to die! You're going to die…

'Whether you like it or not, whether you acknowledge you want it or not, you're going to die. Your life ends here, in this infirmary, with all your secrets exposed but not known. How fitting is this? This is perfect.'

'Be quiet. Please just be quiet.'

'No can do, Zackary. We are your only company, and we wouldn't want you to be wanting, now would we?'

"Go away," you moan breathlessly. The serpent of darkness strikes you, it clouds your mind in a haze within your pounding skull, and it wraps tighter, squeezing, constricting, around your lungs. You inhale shallowly, but it becomes useless; your lungs will not inflate, expand to make room for that precious commodity.

You're falling farther.

'That's right. Give it up.'

"No," another soft, broken moan, a breathless sound in the still atmosphere of your world, but your own voice is fading away amongst the cacophony of malicious laughter, of mockery and contempt and jeers from the Voices and the demons and the memories that all knew this was coming.

But it is useless. You're falling, and there's no stopping. You can't breathe; you aren't worth the breath…you aren't worth…

'No, you are not. And that's why nobody cares about you.'

At this rate, you're fading, you're fading and you can't stop it…your lungs won't work, your heart is beating too fast, as if to burst from your chest in resolve to leave you bleeding and dying, wasting away for want of air you can't get and a beat counting the moments of your life…

'It's not true, it's not.'

But are you convincing yourself, so quietly broken, of the useless?

'Yes, it is. You are the one who has it wrong. So wrong. This is what you have been worth—losing that beat, your life, because you are not worth living. And you know what? Nobody will shed a tear when they find you. Dead. Undone by your own inability to perform such a paltry, simple task as breathing. Nobody.'

You gasp, but the air is trapped in your tight, dry throat, and you're choking, your mind darkening.

'And it's so fitting. You never could do anything.'

You could fight back, but it's true. It's so true. It's all you can feel. You can feel in your gut, in your heart, in your failing chest and in your bones…it's true.

You can't accept that. You don't want to.

'Give it up, Zackary,' the enticing whisper mocks your name, mocks you, and inside of you, you know it is right, always right, but you don't want to believe it.

'I said, give it up!' the scream rips through your mind, and your hands are grappling in your hair, trying to breathe, trying to breathe…

'Oh, now you're not responding?'

You decline; you quiet; you try to breathe, breathe. It sticks in your throat, it's not working, not working… you're going to die, you're going to die!

'Not going to say anything now, I see. Coward, my coward.'

'Stop. I'm not. And I'm not your anything. I'm not listening to you.'

'Yes, you are. And you know it's all true.'

So many things flash before your eyes, you can hardly catch it. Your father. Your mother. Maya. Your brother. Bailey. Woody. Moseby. Your brother.

'No. You're lying, you have to be.'

'Give up trying to convince yourself. You're failing. I speak only truth.'

No, no… 'Go away. I'm not listening to you anymore. I'm not! I am not!'

Your mother, utterly disappointed eyes haunting you. Your father, disregarding personality keeping him away from you. Maya, that one so far beyond you. Your brother…your brother…useless, useless, you're so useless…your brother…

'I don't want you around! I don't care how much you're the only one I deserve. I want out! I don't want you! Leave me alone.'

'Never. Silence all protests, you worthless coward. You are not getting rid of me, no matter how hard you try; you are forever stuck in this, in my web. I am the only one who cares to hold onto you, and I'm not letting go. You are mine.'

You whimper. No, no…

'You are in my hold, now, and you cannot get out. And you couldn't even if you tried, because you are that feeble and so thoroughly resigned to me, to your only company, to the only one here for you. And I am.'

A sob catches in your throat, jerking your shoulders, but in panic and terror and horror and pain, it is suffocating you, suffocating you in cruel hands…your mind is a haze, you can't breathe, and darkness is hedging in, hedging in…

'I know you'll never even attempt such a thing as to break loose, you are too much of a coward. But at least you are my coward. And you are, and you will listen to me.'

Oh how you wish you couldn't, but you are and you are resigned to it, in action and submission. Your lungs burn for want of air, your wide and wild eyes rim in red and tears, and your hands are white as your fingers dig into your scalp. If only you could breathe, if only…

'You will always have me around, because I am the only one you deserve. I will never stop haunting you!'

You close your eyes against the screech, the pain ricocheting around your ravaged mind. Your breathing, hitched, speeds up as you attempt to compensate for what you are not getting, but nothing is helping, nothing is helping…

'See, now you are a cry-baby. Do you feel that warmth in your eyes, that extra burning lump closing off your throat? You're suffocating yourself. You always pondered your suicide, bet you never thought of it ending this way. Unable to breathe because you're panicking, because you're fighting the inevitable and you know it's true, you know it's all true…'

Oh to let go, oh to escape. Oh to breathe, to breathe…

'Do you want to know what else you are?'

You can't, you can't. It will be your undoing, you can hear it in that mockingly sweet, painfully tender voice, in the way it turns against you, the way its spurious warmth promises cold and damage and tearing you down.

These are the ways the thoughts possess, the way the thoughts reconvene and whisper and grip so tightly, so tightly…

You want to say n-no, leave you alone, you want to, but you can't…your voice has faded, it has been lost along with your breath, with your fading consciousness…

'You are unloved, a useless piece of trash, serving no purpose in anything, not even the lives directly around you. Not even your brother's. You are a horrible person, so haunted and black-touched, you're a sorry sight, one bent and warped and twisted…so beyond saving, beyond worth. You are caught, suspended permanently, in my web, the web which is stealing your life, built with your eager hands and handed to me in your blood and weariness and pain, and you can't stop it! I will kill you, Zackary. I will kill you because I hold you in my hands and I control what happens to you. And like you have done to yourself, like everyone else has and you have to them, I will hurt you. I will hurt you.'

And everything within you freezes when these words echo within your fading mind, and those Voices, your demons, your life, they know…they know they have gotten to you. He knows he has gotten you. You are had, gotten, caught, held in cruel, cold clutches…and you're suffocating…

'That's right. We have you, I have you, you are had, and no one can take that possession away from Us. From me. I control you and I say when you breathe!'

What little air there is within them is rushed from your constricting lungs, a sucker punch to the gut driving your feeble breaths from you. Your pounding, rushing, gushing, racing heart is straining, straining…

'I say when you live.'

You can't see anything anymore, the world is fading away, your fall taking you farther and farther away from the fading lights…breath failing, breath failing…

'You are under my shadow and I will never let this darkness pass over you, so as to leave you. Nay, it is your blanket, your four walls, low ceiling and frozen floor. This shadow over you, this darkness surrounds you. You will always be here, always…'

A flash, another. One beat. Two. Dancing spots. Images, pictures, white, darkness…darkness…

Your fall takes forever, but is over in moments. You never hit bottom, but you are shattering on the impact of everything along the way.

A breath, it's gone. A beat, it falters. Your heart, it fails. Your lungs, they freeze. Your throat, it closes off. Your mind, it darkens. Consciousness is fading, fading…

Flashes, images, feelings, faces…

Your mother. Your father. Your brother.

You're fading. You're fading and that's it…

Silent darkness steals over you, absolute and sheer panic screaming, you're dying, you're dying! and you're drifting, drifting, fading, losing, falling…

Isn't there supposed to be more? Oh fear, oh panic. Oh pain, oh pain, oh pain…your eyes are without sight, your mind is without thought but for the sheer horror burning in your throat, and you're passing out, you're leaving it behind, behind…

You can't breathe, you can't…there's nothing, nothing to hold on to…you should let go…nothing to hold on to…there's darkness waiting, freedom…you're waiting on nothing, nothing…and as you're falling, convinced, another factor cuts through…

Your brother.

A beat. Two. Darkness hedges. It consumes. A breath, it doesn't enter.

…but nothing, nothing to hold on to…nothing—

"ZACK!"

Across a gorge running through my life,
The ravine tearing wider and carrying strife
On rivers turned crimson and cold and wrong,
I see the reason I face this reality and why I hold on

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Author's Note: Who do you think spoke his name? What do you think that is about? What will become of Zack? Do you see how our "Voices" convince us of things? There is so much to see in this chapter! I wish all of us recognised the methods, the twistings that ensnare us. Was this chapter intense? What did you think, feel? Tell me everything, if you will! Who do you think we should focus on next? What do you think should or will happen next? Any ideas you have could spur any number of extra thoughts or help with the writing process!

Last chapter, I used a word that I forgot to stick into the vocabulary. That word is heliocentric - (1) with Sun central: with the Sun at the center

Vocabulary:

paltry - (1) insignificant: insignificant or unimportant; (2) despicable: low and contemptible

spurious - (1) not genuine: different from what it is claimed to be, not authentic, or not valid or well-founded