To be honest I don't really like this chapter that much. I think I could've done A LOT better, but yeah. Enough of my moping. Umm, pretty much you can expect there to be little flashbacks from Shannon and Angela's past making there way into here, MAYBE. Not really sure, 'cause my mind is always thinking one thing and then I end up doing another. Hopefully you guys don't think this is as bad as I think it is, but feedback on this would be genuinely appreciated. I can't say enough how your guys thoughts and opinions help me when I write since I'm always so skeptic with what I write. And I wanna do an FOF, but that kinda involves people actually reviewing lol. Surprisingly, I'm getting alot of new alerts and stuff for this story, and I'm giving out a big THANK YOU! to all of you that are reading this. Much love =)
Disclaimer: I'm getting sick of these things .
Flashbacks in bold, as always.
I cautiously took a step toward the doorway, and lifted my hand. My knuckles rapped against the wooden door exactly three times before the elder-blonde stepped out.
"Alex its good to see yo--OH MY!!!" Yup. Cue freaked-out reaction from Paula Carlin. "What happened to you?!" she asked as she feverishly rushed me into the house and shut the door behind me.
"I was..." Pause. "Hiking."
"Did you go to the hospital?!" I shook my head. "We have to get you to one!" She ran to the closet and put on a very warm-looking jacket. "Spencer!!!" Oh shit...
As if she teleported to the foot of the stairs, I didn't have any time to process the fact that she now looked like Jesus himself was standing in her living room.
"Shan--" Before she could finish, her mom was hauling ass outside; trailing me along thanks to her hard grip on my hand.
"We'll be back later Spencer, I'm taking Alex to the hospital!" She pretty much threw me into the car, got into the driver's side, and started driving exactly seventeen miles over the speed limit the entire way to the hospital.
As I sat in the passenger seat, I let my mind drift to Spencer's. Her thoughts consisted only of me, and the two words 'What happened?'
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Thanks to Paula's "important position," she was able to get me in to see a doctor fairly quick. Didn't do much good though.
"I'm sorry Paula, but there's really nothing we could do." He shot a cold-stare in my direction as he spoke.
Now, of course they COULD do something, but I was prohibiting them. Thanks to one of my "special talents," I'm currently invading every one of the people in this hospital's minds. Mrs. Carlin's included. So, why not just make this all go away? Well, I'm having more fun fucking around with all these idiots. And Paula will now actually remember all of this, which means that next time I see her, I won't have to play 20 questions as to why there's a giant bandage accompanied by medical tape covering the right side of my face.
"Well, thank you anyone Dr. Moore," Paula said coolly before grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the bleach-white building. As we got into the car, she turned to me, examining my face with her ice-cold blue eyes. "I'm so sorry, Alex."
I smiled at her--or at least the left side of my face did. "It's not your fault. Besides, its just a cut." A really fucking big cut. "I'll be fine."
"I insist that you stay at the house for at least tonight though, Alex. Just in case you feel any pain or something, it'd be good to have a doctor around." I merely just nodded in response and basked in the silence the rest of the drive back to the Carlin home.
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"You ever going to explain what happened to your face?"
I turned to the blonde standing next to her computer and shook my head. "No, but thanks for making me feel like some hot shit, Spencer."
Surprisingly, she laughed and plopped down next to me on the bed. "Why not?"
"I don't feel like telling a long story."
"Please?" she asked while pouting.
"No."
"Pleaseeeeeeee?"
"Nooooooooooo."
"Pretty pleaseeeeeee?"
This continued for another three minutes or so before I finally just said fuck it and began explaining. What can I say, the pout always gets to me in the end.
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That night, after a long and frustrating talk with Spencer, I found myself lying awake next to the blonde in her bed. Her body was pressed against my side, her arm draped over my stomach, and her head on my chest. Whenever I had spent the night at her house, this is how we'd always end up. Its not that its romantic, or that we have feelings for each other. No. Its the plain and simple fact that both of us need someone to hold onto, and were simply grasping onto one another.
Oddly enough, this is the exact same position me and Angela would sleep in every night we were together. Unless my arms were around her, and she was close to me, she wouldn't be able to sleep at all. I wonder if she's finally gotten over that...
Anyway, it doesn't matter. Seeing her again that night made me realize that I can't see her again. I could tell that me being there was hurting her, and I knew looking at her in person was building the everlasting ache in my heart.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I realized how ugly I looked. Short brown hair spiked up into a fauxhawk thanks to chemo. Black wife-beater clinging to me in what used to be all the right places. And lastly, dark, baggy blue-jeans held up by a black, studded belt.
"Yeah; my fans are just gonna love this one," I said to my reflection, rolling my eyes after doing-so.
I checked the clock on the wall, and walked off with my head down to see the doctor that I knew would be waiting for me in the therapy room. Knowing him, he'd praise me for being able to walk so well, and then make me show him how well for another hour.
As if my day couldn't get any worse, I bumped into someone, knocking her to the floor.
"God, wanna watch where the fuck you're going next time?" The black-haired woman asked while getting up and brushing the invisible dirt off herself. Its good to know politeness hasn't been lost on the younger generation.
"Yeah, sorry," I fakely apologized in my raspy voice. I fucking hate this.
"You can stop with the annoying fucking voice. Its not like you're singing another one of your horrible songs."
"Those horrible songs are keeping up a pretty good income," I casually said, while leaning against the nearest wall.
"Just like those horrible movies starring you and your 'significant other.' A.K.A a sorry excuse for a porno."
"Well, I'm gonna already assume you know who I am then. It saves me the trouble of introducing myself to my number one fan." Good to know I haven't lost my sarcasm.
"Oh, ha. You're hilarious. I can see the headline now, 'Actress, musician, and now comedian!'" Apparently she's familiar with sarcasm too.
"And you can be the one saying you were the first to know. See how all of this is gonna come back to reward you in the end?" As much as I wanted to slap her across the face, a wave of kindness came over me and I stuck my hand out. "Shannon Levy."
"I know who you are." She rolled her eyes. "You can save the 'I'm a nice girl' act for someone who actually cares."
I opened my eyes to find that I was stuck in the same dream I'd been having since I left. The stupid dream feeding off of all my memories. Any encounter between me and her was being found, rewound, and played over and over again in my mind, trying to break me. It's the dumbest thing I've ever came up with, because I cannot be broken.
Spencer groaned in her sleeping-state and moved closer to me. Her arm trailed up from my stomach to my neck before it stopped, only to begin stroking the sensitive skin there. I wasn't surprised, it's happened before.
Again, this was something Angela would do when she was sleeping every once in a while. Somehow her hand would always find the scar, and soon it would begin lazily tracing the edges of it.
Thank God Spencer wasn't doing that.
I was sitting in the "lounge" (as they like to call it) watching TV and just trying to get my mind off of everything. Well, everything other than myself; considering I was watching one of my movies. Ah, the memories of playing a deranged pyro psychopath. Never gets old.
"Hey." I turned from the screen to see the black-haired bitch from earlier. "Sorry about being such an ass earlier, I just wasn't in the mood and you kinda pushed me over my limit."
I was tempted to use her whole 'save the nice girl act' from earlier, but I guess I'm trying to gain some karma points. "Its fine," I said while surprisingly smiling. I guess she took this as an invitation to join me, because next thing I knew she was sitting down next to me on the couch.
"Firestarter?" she asked without looking away from the TV.
"You're familiar with my work?" This time, she turned to me; catching my smirk and throwing back one of her own.
"Hey, I am your number one fan, right?" Ah, smart girl.
"I didn't catch your name."
"That's probably 'cause I didn't give it to you." Even though that didn't really make sense, I let it slide as she offered her hand to me, and I shook it. "Angela."
"I was thinking more along the lines of rebel without a cause." I smiled and she lightly punched my arm. The friendly contact was weird, considering I really don't know her.
"Should I just call you the lesbian poster-child then?" She beamed back at me. Her white teeth literally freaking causing me some momentary blindness.
"Yeah." I blinked and rubbed my eyes. When I looked back at her she had that 'what the fuck are you doing?' face on. "So this is your deal. You bitch people out, then go and be all BFF with 'em later?"
"Ugh! I told you I was sorry." Typical teenage response. This girl couldn't be more than 18 at the most. "Why are you here anyway?"
If anyone else would've asked me, I would've ignored them and gotten all piss-assed. "Cancer."
"Oh..." She looked down at her feet, obviously not knowing what to say. "Sorry."
"What? You thought I got this hair for fun?" I asked, pointing to the fauxhawk that still managed to stand up straight thanks to the almost bottle of gel I used.
"That would explain why you've been out of the public for a while now," she said as she turned to me, sporting a weak-looking smile.
"What? The hair?" I enjoy playing clueless.
"No, the...you know..." She ran a hand through her dark hair and let out a long sigh.
For the second time, I awoke in the dead of night, in Spencer's bed. To say I shouldn't be surprised would be an understatement. Thankfully, I still have a while until the dream should turn into a real nightmare. If this keeps going in order the next one should involve my oh-so-pleasant phone conversation with my ex-wife.
As much as I hate memories, I love them at the same time. Like, sure, these ones are killing me at the moment, but some aren't that bad. For instance, the memories of my kids.
Giving birth to Shawn in the hospital. First meeting Ryan and Alex after the doctor's aged them like fine wine. Having Alex confess to me that she was a lesbian, and then meeting her first real girlfriend (who eventually became her wife). Then all the crap with Shawn losing the "love of his life," and Ryan finding his. See, these are things I enjoy remembering. These are things I never wanna forget.
Hell, as much as I'd be reluctant to admit it, me and Angela finding out she was pregnant is on that list too. Even if the two kids she gave birth to ended up tearing off half of my face.
I was minding my own, drowning out Lucifer's annoying music with the deliciousness of all that is pancakes. Or at least I was, until Angela came running into the kitchen with a completely shocked look on her face. She wasn't saying a word. Just standing there with that same stupid look, like she was frozen. So, I did what anyone else would do.
"Umm, you just gonna stand there?"
Apparently, it worked. Now she looked slightly more normal, as she took a seat across from me at the kitchen table.
"If I tell you something, you promise you'll keep it between you and me." Okay, so now there was only one thing running through my mind...
"Its cool if you like me, Angela. I mean, its kinda weird, but I don't really think anyone else would care--"
"NO!!!" She pounded her hand on the table and ran the other one through her hair.
"Jeez, don't gotta be mean about it," I said, taking another bite of my awesome pancakes. Mmmmmm, pancakes.
"No, just, look, I--" She stopped herself from rambling on her own, and took a deep breath. "Sorry, this is just kind of a big deal."
I raised an eyebrow as I took another bite. "What is?"
She opened her mouth to speak, but abruptly shut it. "Nothing." She shook her head, stood up, and started walking away. Being the intellectual person I am, I knew she was lieing. So, I got up and ran after her before she got to far. Once I was within a few inches of her, I grabbed her arm and turned her around. She opened her mouth to most likely yell at me for grabbing her, but at the last moment she shut it and clutched her stomach, slouching over. I ran a tentative hand across her back, not really sure what else to do.
"Angela?" It was the only thing I could think of to say without souding overly-concerned.
A few seconds after I spoke, she stood up straight and looked at me. Instead of the light blue her eyes usually were, they were now a darker blue. The color shook me up a little bit, so I tried to avoid her eyes.
I looked at my bare feet. I looked at hers after, concealed with white socks. I looked at her jean-clad legs, and then up to her hips. I looked at her hands, dangling next to her waist. I looked at her arms--WAIT!
My eyes darted back to her hands, covered with a red and black liquid. As I was about to ask her what in the hell that was, a drop of the same-colored liquid dripped down from her stomach onto the wooden floor. After that, I could tell I didn't need to ask. The question was written all over my face. But her answer was the last thing I'd expected.
"I'm pregnant."