Hey friend-os! Okay, so by popular demand, I decided to do something a little different and finally give you guys insight to Brittany's life since you guys were wondering where she is. I think I may continue doing so up until Alvin is finally in a scene with her.
Thanks for your continuous support! I really appreciate it!
Reviews are helpful and greatly appreciated!
-Blythe
Chp 3: Down in Flames
Brittany's Point of View
"We need 15 cc's of Benzodiazepine STAT!"
"Her blood pressure is rising! If we give her Benzodiazepine, it may cause her to get worse, doctor. Couldn't we just keep the respirator on and give her Valium if her symptoms persist?"
"We don't have time for that! We need to treat her now!"
All I hear is voices. Unwelcome voices crowding my thinking and I can't hear myself breathing. I feel hands all over me, holding me down and fingers grasp so tightly that they make impressions on my skin. I'm screaming and begging, hot tears streaming from the corners of my eyes, running in rivulets over my cheekbones and settling into the crevices of my ears. I refuse to see what's happening around me as I'm closed in, kicking for a way out, but I get nothing. Just more hands and more red marks on my skin as I'm restrained.
"Dr. Thomas, we can't give her the Benzodiazepine is she continues to thrash about. We'll have to make her swallow it!"
"And what makes you think she'll do that for us, huh? She's having a major depressive episode and you think she'll voluntarily swallow pills?!"
"Well I just thought-"
"If we don't get her heart rate down immediately, she could go into cardiac arrest with her condition! Give me the 15cc of Benzodiazepine now!"
"Yes, Doctor. Right away."
My screams around muffled by more voices. More people, closing in on me. My nose drips as I cry, every muscle in my face tightened and aching. They're everywhere, putting straps around my arms and closing me into what feels like an isolated little box. I swear I could feel my mother there, forcing her palms down on my head.
"No, Mommy!" I scream frantically, "Don't put me in the box! Not the box! Not the box, Mommy!"
"I need that Benzodiazepine!"
"I got it. Here it is."
And without warning, I feel a sharp, excruciating pain rippling from the inside of my arms to the tip of my shoulder. My arm is numb and I can no longer tighten my hands into fists. It feels like I'm losing a part of my body.
"NO!" I shriek, "NO!"
"Brittany," Says a soft voice, "Brittany, we're just trying to help you. You know that. Take a deep breath!"
I continue to resist until my body suddenly begins to feel heavy. I feel limp, drained. I open my eyes slowly, blinking as the light pieces through my eyelashes. I'm short of breath. I feel like I'd been running.
"Not...the box." I beg, "Please. Don't let her put me in the box. Not the box, Mommy."
"Brittany," repeats the voice, "No one's going to put you in the ice box anymore. You're safe here. You mother is nowhere near here. We talked about this, remember? Everything's alright."
I breathe in, finally able to hear the beating of my own heart. I nod, looking over to the side of my bed where the voice is coming from. It's Doctor Thomas, my counselor. She is smiling.
"Okay. Okay. I'm okay," I say breathlessly.
"Good, Brittany. Now I need to you work with me, alright? Take a deep breath...and let your mind go to a happy place. Vast meadows, sunshine, a warm breeze."
I close my eyes slowly, imagining the meadow. It's a safe place. No cars, no closed spaces, no darkness...and no ice box. Just warm, inviting, and quiet. There is no crying there. The temperature is mild and soothing. My skin tingles thinking about the sensation of a warm breeze; something I haven't felt for a while. I'm not in the hospital in my mind. I'm in the meadow.
"Excellent," cooes Dr. Thomas, "You're doing well, Brittany. Now think of the little bluebirds in the trees and light, fluffy clouds in the sky. Imagine the sounds of the birds. What do they sound like?"
I think for a moment. I think about the sounds birds made when I used to be able to go on walks. They sang little melodies as I'd pass by them, as if I was being greeted. I used to go on walks before my time in this place. I used the smell freshly cut grass and feel the wind drifting through my hair and chilling the back of my neck. It was soothing; it was normal.
"They sound inviting," I answered, my body getting heavier and drowsier. I breathe deeply.
"Excellent, Brittany," says Dr. Thomas, "What else do you see in the meadow, Brittany?"
The meadow had tall grass that brushed delicately against my ankles. Every time I take a step, I hear nothing. Silence.
"I see the tall grass," I answered slowly, feeling as if I was drifting into unconsciousness, "And I hear nothing. Everything is..." I begin the drift, my cheek pressing deeper into my pillow, "silent."
My tongue relaxes, my eyes relax. As my body unfolds, I begin to disappear.
Third Person, Alvin's life:
As Alvin turned the corner, he took out his new box of cigarettes, choosing one out of the box and pinching the end between his lips, then fished around in his pocket for his new lighter. He pulled it out and looked at it, turning it in his palms before popping the cap and skirting his thumb over the trigger. No dice. He shook the small canister a few times after it wouldn't light, then tried again until it produced a small flame. He tipped the flame toward the cigarette and inhaled, smoke escaping through his teeth.
It'd been almost a year and a half since he'd had a smoke. It wasn't something he found himself addicted to like most cigarette smokers did due to the nicotine - in fact, he thought it tasted disgusting most of the time. But he couldn't complain when cigarettes began giving him the feeling of stability. Lighting the small flame made him feel like he didn't have to keep anything for long - he had the ability to burn it if he didn't like it. When he didn't like something, he thought about how a simple flame would make it so that he didn't need to look at it anymore - the slightest spark could cause anything to crumble to dust; cease to exist. If only, he often thought to himself, if only I can light thoughts on fire so I don't have to think about them anymore.
Suddenly, there came a voice from behind, a familiar voice. Someone was running toward him from a few feet away.
"Alvin? Alvin! Hey! Wait up!
"Oh God. Kill me now," he groaned, smoke drifting out of his mouth as he sighed, "please...kill me."
By the high pitch of the voice, he could immediately tell who it was; it was the little chubby boy from school, Theodore. The one who constantly pestered him on a daily basis. Alvin began to walk faster, his shoulders tensed up to his ears as he shoved the lighter back into his pocket.
"Alvin! Hey! Wait! I-it's me, Theodore!" Yelled the boy. Judging by the pitter-pattering sounds, he was coming closer, desperately trying to keep up with Alvin.
"Go away," yelled Alvin back to him, "I'm busy."
Theodore went to school with Alvin and the two of them shared every class together, much to Alvin's dismay. He was short, chubby, wore green every day without exception, and always had a snack with him no matter what the occasion. To Alvin, the boy was delusional; he must've thought that Alvin enjoyed being around him, which he didn't. Not in the slightest. Theodore was a persistent boy, following Alvin to his locker, sitting with him at lunch, insisting to be his partner with every project, inviting himself over to his house, calling him on the phone, even walking him home every day! It annoyed Alvin terribly - it even made him angry. Alvin had even asked the boy several times to go away and leave him alone, but that still didn't stop him; Theodore seemed to admire Alvin. He didn't know if it was because they were both chipmunks or if he was just desperate for attention, but he seemed to think they were close friends! Dave even asked Theodore to take Alvin on walks on the weekend sometimes, even when it was rainy outside. Dave must've been brainwashed into thinking they were friends, too.
But it wasn't Theodore's friendly attributes that frustrated Alvin. The worst part about him was that he reminded Alvin of his youngest brother, Thomas, who'd passed away several years before. Much like Theodore, Thomas was chubby and enjoyed cooking on a daily basis. Also, Thomas played the drums like Theodore did and was friendly and warm - he was always accepting of everyone around him, no matter who they were. Thomas was an extreme optimist, always finding something good about everything. The fact that someone like Theodore reminded him of his deceased brother made Alvin feel ashamed of himself for comparing the two of them.
"Alvin!" The voice now came from right beside him, "whew! You are really hard to keep up with, you know that? You're fast!"
Alvin growled, not bothering to look at the small green-clad chipmunk who was chowing down on a strawberry ice cream cone.
"Alvin, why're you walking home all alone? Does Dave...I-i mean, your father know about this?"
Alvin didn't answer. He kept his eyes on the sidewalk, breathing the cigarette smoke out through his nose. Unfortunately, this wasn't a problem he could just burn away into ashes. Maybe if I keep quiet, he thought, he'll go away.
They walked in silence for a moment, then Theodore gasped, breaking the stillness, "Oh! A-alvin! You shouldn't be smoking! Do you know how unhealthy it is for your body?!"
Alvin turned his head toward Theodore, his clearwater blue eyes shooting him a deadly glare.
"I'm aware, Theodore," Alvin spat, "Can't you please just leave me alone? I'm busy today! Go away."
"Alvin, c-can you please put out that cigarette? I-it troubles me to know what could happen to you-"
"Well then if it bothers you so damn much, why don't you go away so you won't have to deal with it?!" He power-walked ahead, his feet heavily scuffing against the pavement. Theodore managed to keep up, though it was beginning to make him pant in the process.
"Alvin. A-as your friend, I have to do this. Please forgive me." Without warning, Theodore stole the cigarette out of Alvin's mouth and crushed it under his feet, leaving the contents of the cigarette to scatter within the pavement cracks.
For Alvin, that was the last straw. He was through with this guy. He growled, gritting his teeth, causing the chubby chipmunk to step back and drop his ice cream cone. He was sick of this kid. He was sick of the idea of someone he didn't like reminding him of his dear baby brother every day, he didn't approve of someone always prying into his business and invading his personal space, and he especially didn't approve of yet another person worrying about his wellbeing. Without warning, Alvin grabbed Theodore by the shirt collar and forcefully yanked him up, lifting him completely off the ground.
"YOU LITTLE SON OF A BITCH."
Theodore gasped, thrashing his feet, his eyes wide with terror, "I-i'm so sorry, Alvin! I-i just couldn't let you do that-!"
"What the hell makes you think you can just come into my life and bother me 24/7, huh, porky?! Who do you think you are?!"
"A-alvin, I-I'm sorry! P-please-!"
"Why can't you just learn to go away?! Why can't everyone just stay out of my business and leave me alone! I don't need any help!"
"Please! Please put me down-!"
Alvin shook him, "ANSWER ME, DAMMIT!"
Theodore shook his head, "I-i can't-! You don't understand!"
"Oh, you bet I do, buddy! Now you better quit with the bullshit or I'll beat you black and blue, got it?!"
Theodore was shivering, tears beginning to form in his emerald green eyes.
"I SAID, got it?!"
The green-clad chipmunk nodded slowly, tears spilling down his cheeks. Alvin dropped his grasp on Theodore and ran off, leaving the boy to sob wildly into his hands on the pavement.
"He doesn't understand-!" Mumbled Theodore to himself, his voice quaking as he choked on sobs. He watched from afar as Alvin strode out of sight, "...h-he just doesn't understand!"
Alvin was all wound up now. He needed something to settle himself before doing something rash. Pulling open the door to his house, he walked into the kitchen and relaxed in the booth, pulling out his lighter to light another cigarette as he watched the clock. Dave would be home in ten minutes and would probably be furious with Alvin knowing that he walked home alone and cut his therapy session short, but ten minutes was plenty of time to smoke at least one cigarette before he would have the face the music.
Pulling the Zippo lighter and pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, Alvin began lighting another one. He didn't care if Dave smelled the smoke when he got home; all he'd have to say is that it was the smell left over from sitting in Dr. Callaway's office for an hour. Dr. Callaway smoked, too; it would be easy to blame the smell on him.
Alvin held the lighter up to the end of the cigarette butt when all of a sudden, the phone rang, startling him. He pulled out of the booth and made his way over the phone and answered it calmly, "Hello?"
"ALVIIIIIN!" Yelled Dave in his signature tone, "I just got a call from Dr. Callaway and he said that you skipped out during your session this evening!"
"Uh huh," replied Alvin apathetically. He wasn't ashamed of his decision, so he had no reason to show remorse. He didn't like therapy and that was that, "what's your point?"
"My point is you're required to stay in his office for the entire appointment! You don't have the authority to just come and go as you please!"
"Well I AM the client!" Protested Alvin, turning the kitchen faucet on and off and looking out the window above the kitchen sink, "It's MY life he's talking about! Why should I have to sit around and let him bother me with irrelevant questions?! It's personal and uncomfortable!"
"It's supposed to feel like that, Alvin! That's the whole reason why we're doing this in the first place! It's part of the process!"
"Well I don't like it, Dave! I never have! Just because he calls himself a doctor and has all of these fancy degrees doesn't mean he can just barge into my personal life and be the 'fix it' guy!"
Dave sighed, a frustrated tone resonating in his voice, "Alvin...please... Just try to live with it. It'll get better once you get everything off your chest. I mean, you'd had a lot of trauma in the past, and I think that if you just talk about it-"
"Well I don't want to, Dave. I don't-"
Suddenly, Alvin was interrupted by a familiar smell. A thick, uncomfortable smell.
"Alvin? Hello?" Dave called from the other end of the line.
Alvin heard familiar sounds. Crackling coming from somewhere in the room. Please don't let it be what I think it is, he thought silently. He slowly turned around, and right when he did, he dropped the phone at the sight before him.
The kitchen table was on fire. Alvin had dropped him lighter when it was still aflame and it set fire to the table. An incredible sinking feeling caused him to freeze. It was like the auditorium incident all over again.
Pretty soon, the booth caught on fire, then the wall plaster, then the hanging pictures. Alvin just stood there by the sink, paralyzed by shock. What was he going to do?! How was he supposed to explain this to Dave?!
As soon as he snapped out of his catatonic state, he immediately pulled the back door open, racing into the back yard and grabbing the hose.
"C'mon, c'mon!" He yelled to himself, desperately trying to hook the hose up to the tap next to the back porch. He needed water, and he needed it fast! The fire had already begun to spread from the kitchen into the hallway, then it was on it's way into the living room and up the stairs to the second floor. Alvin was running out of time! He would never be able to explain this to Dave without serious consequences! Or worse: what if he ends up back in the institution for something that was just an accident?
"No no no!" Screamed Alvin, giving up on the hose. He couldn't run back into the kitchen and dial 911! The house was already burning from the inside!
"Help! Somebody!" He cried out hysterically, "Somebody help me!"
Alvin stood helplessly in the backyard, watching as his home - the one he'd grown up in his whole life - fell victim to the deadly flames. He crashed to his knees, his legs losing feeling as he began to have a full-on panic attack - he was losing everything he's ever known. Every memory of his lost family members - gone. Diminishing among the ashes. He couldn't watch; tears flowed rapidly over his skin and stuck to his eyelashes as he doubled over into the grass, hyperventilating. This had to be a nightmare. There was no way this could be happening!
After only five minutes, the flames had already engulfed the whole house. The wood crackled and popped as the fire took over, eating up the shutters in the windows and causing the roof shingles to topple off the roof and dive into the garden below. The garage was now aflame and the sounds of shattering glasses filled the smoke-filled air.
Memories of the accident stampeded through Alvin's mind: the heat, the feeling of shattered glass wedged into his skin, the colors red and grey- flames and smoke. Alvin screamed, rocking back and forth, squeezing his eyes shut and clamping his ear with the palms of his hands. He wanted to fade away.
Okay guys! Thanks for reading!
What will happen next? What is Dave going to do when he sees what happened to the house?
What's wrong with Brittany?
Reviews are greatly appreciated and helpful! Thanks!
I'll be updating really soon!
-Blythe