I want to take a moment to thank everyone for the support of this first chapter. In truth, I always feel a little uneasy in the first couple of chapters of a new project. It's those early stages when I wonder most if I'm writing in a way that conveys the message I want to deliver.
Anyway, It's time to continue. I'm sure all of the Kyanna fans will enjoy this next part. Worry not though, Beli fans, she'll be here very soon!
Scars
Pristine white walls and the tinge of sterility – they were two things that Mike hated. Hospitals never had a calming effect, especially when he was the main event. Days lost their meaning and spun out into an endless tune. Yet here he was, looking into a mirror, reminded countless times, of just how much things had changed.
"Lay it on me, doctor." the blond turned back abruptly, meeting eyes with a taller man of distinct, clean features and short hair. In his hand, he held a large stack of paperwork. "What's the real extent of the damage here?"
Fear was an emotion beyond the likes of which any normal person could control. How painfully ironic that a medical professional, the kind of person he usually looked upon with such scepticism, was now the only one capable of bringing his life back to some kind of order.
"It's about time we take off the dressings," the doctor spoke shortly as his assistant carefully came across from the doorway to help. "There are a lot of things we need to discuss… and some crucial changes that you must be made aware of."
Since the moment of waking up after that dreaded moment, the instant of his life akin to a nightmare, Mister Winters had been forced to wear bandages, a protective layer that added to the already ample armor he'd thickened himself with since the 'event' transpired.
The clammy wrappings came away after a handful of careful snips from shiny surgical scissors. He finally felt it, the coolness of air against his face after so long. However – something felt terribly amiss. A disgusting fusion of rogue emotions threw everything into chaos. With shuddering hands, he looked back toward the mirror.
"Unfortunately the procedure was not successful," the voice of the doctor returned – this time far more subdued and compassionate. "The degree of damage you suffered during the attack was enough to cause severe detachment of your retina. Your eyeball itself is also very badly scarred – and the lens of your eye is-"
"Stop right there." A scowl in repulsion was the best that the 'creature' starring back deserved. A criss-cross of disgusting fleshy scars inches wide and several inches long scrawled across the right side of his face – beginning their twisted trails just below the eye and finally finising near the jawline. This freak wasn't him – nor did it hold the same flare and poise. It was a horrible and disfigured beast, one the likes of which he'd never accept.
"I'm afraid the issue needs to be addressed. Open your eye Mister Winters. Please, tell me if you can see anything…."
Alas, with a sigh of surrender he slowly moved to sit at the foot of his bed. Opening his eyelid was the easy part - and it brought a crushing revelation.
Emptiness span out like a void – its sheer weight on his already queasy stomach proving to be far too much. Bile and acid bubbled away - swaying from side to side in the depths until finally, they tried to escape. Mike reached for the bowl at his bedside, twitching in discomfort as his stomach heaved.
In the aftermath, he sat silently – staring at his feet in broken dismay. "….There's nothing out of my right side. No blackness, no blurring, no distortion…. Doctor… does that mean I'm-"
"Yes… it's as I initially feared after your surgery." A hand on the shoulder from the white-coat wearing surgeon was of little comfort. It didn't take away the coldness, nor the bitterness. "I'm very sorry…. I'm afraid you've completely lost the vision in your right eye."
Winters watched through the cone of vision he had left – hands shuddering wildly under the revelation, tears spilling forth as he saw the world in an entirely different light. "But," he choked, clasping his hands together in a frantic attempt to stop his heart from breaking. "I thought you guys could fix retinal detachment…. I can't-"
"Usually we can," clarification that meant little at this point, even as the older man put down tucked underneath his arm and articulated with hand gestures.
"However, the extent of the damage you sustained, not just to your retina but to the eyeball itself was very serious, as I just told you. If I'm being honest with you… in my ten years of operating at Glenberry General… you're only the third person I've seen sustain these kind of injuries and not receive an enucleation."
"You aren't taking out my eye," A brief growl was all the response Winters felt was needed, drying the tears and burying his head in his hands. "I already look mutilated enough without making things any worse."
"I understand you're in shock right now, young man, but It's important that you listen to me." Another plea from the doc, stuck somewhere between compassionate and crushingly professional, "There's a chance you might start to experience-"
"I'm done talking about this…." There was no point in keeping this line of conversation alive. All that was important right now was staring down the truth, letting the anger and the pain sink in. "As soon as you think I'm ready I want you to prepare my discharge papers, some strong prescription painkillers and the rest of the bill…. I'll take home visits over this any day."
"I implore you to listen for the sake of you-"
No – he was finished listening to all of this prattle. "What's the point? You can't fix what's broken… and I don't value your opinion unless you can. So I'll ask you once more… can you bring back my eyesight?"
"I'm afraid not, no."
That was all the fallen vocalist needed to know. "Then please, leave me in peace doc. I'll deal with this by myself, in my own way."
A month had passed since that day and things had only gotten worse. In an attempt to escape the media attention Mike decided to do one thing – the only thing he could in order to get away from the prying eyes and the world of cameras.
The old apartment would be his solice. It spun out before him, dusty and badly kept – another relic of a very different past to remind him of just how different things were. Much of the furniture remained covered by sheets, a thick layer of dust, and so many conflicting memories.
Flashbacks played out like ghostly echoes – voices of conversations he'd shared in times long since passed. The way Kyu sprawled across the couch half-naked and munched down snacks while she watched 'questionable' channels, the countless times he'd invited Audrey over to 'chill' for the weekend, and perhaps most importantly, the night of realization at the hands of Suki.
So many snippets of a time when everything held a different tone – a different color. They should've been good memories, fond reminders, but right now Mike couldn't help but look at everything, through half the perspective and a greyed, grainy filter.
"This is where it all began…. My first place when I left college and moved to Glenberry. Somehow I should feel happier… but I don't."
A wretch of discomfort escaped as he yanked the cover from the leather couch – dust particles fleeing everywhere in a bid for freedom. The leather in all of its nostalgic glory, freed at last from its sheet prison, was perhaps the only thing with enough sentiment to bring a tiny smirk to the wounded musician's lips.
"Damn this couch has seen a few things. If it could talk then I'd have to burn it…."
Sitting down for a little while brought with it an ounce of peace – a small pleasure after such a long and drawn out day. It was hard enough leaving the mansion house with all of the reporters waiting in the wings like vultures. Driving all the way back to Glenberry on the small backroads took twice as long – but perhaps the hardest task of all was getting back the keys from the landlady without too much fuss.
A yawn escaped – all Mike wanted to do was rest. The world and its problems didn't matter. The first-world issues of music and drama didn't matter, either. Right now, the only thing worth some weight was the thought of escape. The world still hurt to look at, but for the moment, inside this spacious apartment, his old fortress of sorts, he was safe.
"I don't care if I get lost in the crowds. Everything's fucked… nothing can change it, and the last thing I want is for people to find me."
Flashes from the darkness – a sword cutting forth from nothingness. It sliced and slashed, running deep. An arena filled to the brim cheering fans welcomed him closer, but with every ebb and flow, the lights dimmed and the scene became frightfully cold and sinister. A pair of powerful hands held everything in place. An evil smile and the glint of a knife, blood spattered and pooled, turning everything red until nothing of purity remained.
Every breath became heavy, the world threatening to cave in. He panicked and writed and screamed, but there was no escape. The blade came down, bursting his world like a balloon and sending reality into a downward spiral. The laughter of his attacker hung in the air like a curse, mocking and berating his struggles until finally, the whole world turned white.
"Why did you hurt me? You've taken everything away from me…. This isn't how things are supposed to be. I gave everything for this life. The road I walked was paved in gold… it glorified my platinum soul. Now look at me… I'm small… I'm broken… and they never found the person responsible.'
The laughter intensified, becoming harsher with every passing fragment of a second. It brought terror, and in the end, misery. "The boss sends his regards, you smug little prick. Word of warning for the next time… Don't touch what doesn't belong to you, got it? Cuz now I've gotta fuck you up… and I think I'm gonna enjoy it…."
A scream erupted inside – large, powerful and unforgiving. Mike felt cold, the side of his face stuck against dusty hardwood. Turning his head, bringing his functioning eye in line with the surroundings, he drank up the familiar setting of the apartment – sweat poured from his forehead.
"Just a dream… Fuck it. I can't stay shut indoors all day…."
There was only one place in the whole of Glenberry with enough serenity to calm his wounds – of that there was no doubt.
"The beach…."
A gorgeous orange sunset bathed Turtle Bay. Its warmth held enough intensity to calm the soul and ease a fraction of the pain. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a baggy shirt, face obscured behind wide sports sunglasses and a baseball cap, Mike gazed upon the beauty of golden sand through a foggy leer. His left side tired much faster doing all the work, which had become both clear and frustrating to him over the recent weeks.
Slender teenage girls tossed around a beach ball and joked around without a care in the world. Waves crashed against the shoreline and birds swooped majestically in the amber-tinted sky. It was all so beautiful, so tragic.
"Why did this ha-"
Mike's words fell flat as something bumped the side of his leg. Turning slightly to compensate for his blind spot, he gazed downward, squinting for a moment to bring everything into focus – a little white football, covered in specks of wet sand.
"Hey Mister! Mister!" A soft voice – one of innocence and cheerfulness followed. The sound of feet pattered across the golden expanse, and into Mike's view, there came a little boy. "My ball… Can I have it please?"
The young man stood patiently, holding his hands together hopefully. He wore a striped white shirt, shorts, and a pair of bluish sandals, bore long dark hair, and a pair of gentle brown eyes in tow with a rounded face and Hispanic features.
Something about him seemed vaguely familiar, but Mike shrugged off the thought, reaching down to pick up the ball and pass it back. "Here ya go kid. Be sure not to lose-"
"Philly! C'mere! What did I tell you about talking to people without mommy there with you?"
Before Mike could realize it, he found his heart thumping in his chest. Another memory, this one far more powerful than all the others, like a dream turned to reality - a young woman of beautifully long hair, a curvy figure and a gorgeous complexion. Decked out in denim shorts and a tank top, she arrived like a protective mother bear, reaching out and softly pulling the boy behind her.
"Kyanna…." Winters pulled down the brim of his hat in a pitiful attempt to further obscure his face. He felt the nerves rising to the surface, and in a split second, he started clambering to his feet, brushing off the sand as best he could. "….It's been a long time…."
"It has…. Over a year since you last came to town, dude. Been keeping count." Miss Delrio awkwardly moved on her heels, kneeling down to her charge with a motherly smile. "Go play, okay Philip? But don't stray too far. I'll be with you in a little while okay?"
Chuckling sweetly, completely oblivious in childlike innocence toward the atmosphere of the exchange, Philip collected up his ball and began tottering away. "Kay Momma! I'll be super good!"
Alone, and feeling even more tense for it, Mike breathed a stiff sigh. In a strange way there came a spark of warmth somewhere deep inside, but beyond that he couldn't deny the cold dread – the fear that came with someone seeing him like this. "I should go. Now isn't a good ti-"
"Don't leave... I saw your show. I was there in the crowd." Kyanna silenced him outright. Her smooth hand upon his shoulder only served to make things even worse. "There was smoke and people started fighting…. I watched someone knock you off the stage and… and-"
Mike quivered, his entire body reduced to jelly as the gorgeous Latina lady threw her arms, unrestrained and caring, around his shoulders. "I'm so glad you're okay! I heard the news lady say you were rushed to the hospital."
"Let me go..."
"Not a chance," the Mexican girl whispered.
Despite frail complaints, he made no attempt to escape. Something about this embrace – the warmth of it, ignited a fire that had long since burned out. Regardless of how long it had been, he found himself squeezing Kyanna for dear life, taking in every second of the comfort provided, fearful that she'd crumble and vanish if tried to leave.
"I was attacked," he sighed, his voice shaking under the pressure. "I passed out from the pain. There was so much blood... and by the time I woke up I was sat in bed on a private ward…. A lot happened and it's still taking so long to sink-"
Kyanna edged back, eyes dampened with feeling, and slowly reached with a pair of outstretched fingers toward his shades. Plucking them away, she gasped – in the end only causing her to cling even tighter in a renewed cuddle. Her tears ran freely, "What did they do to you? Your face… those scars… your eye… it's white… cloudy…."
"Please don't look at me, Kyanna. Stop staring." Mike struggled under the weight of her expression. He felt disgusting. The only thing he could do to freeze the pain, was look down at his feet. "You're the last person I wanted to see me like this…."
Kyanna dried her tears against the fabric of his shirt and frowned. "How did you expect me to react? Shit, Mike! People are even saying you have private investigators crawling around town. You expected me NOT to worry?! Is this why?"
"Of course it is! I'm afraid." Two words that held enough power in their admission to change everything. Winters gazed with what little strength he had, into Kyanna's eyes of beautiful violet. "I feel weak, and fragile…. I've lost my right eye… every time I see my reflection reminders stare back at me…. I'm ugly… torn up… and the person who did it hasn't been cau-"
"Stop… don't say anymore. You don't need to." In but a single moment everything felt different. A fragile smile on behalf of his long-lost friend was enough to make the sunset, so empty just moments before, into a faint moment of fleeting beauty. "It's so long since everything fell apart between us… but… right now… more than anything…. It sounds like you need a friend. That look in your eyes... so hateful... that's not the guy I knew."
Those words - even though they were so heartfelt in their intent, changed everything. The warmth was gone, replaced by a chilling bitterness.
Breaking away - unable to stop the negative emotion from crawling up his back any longer, the broken singer scoffed, turning away. "Getting your face carved up like a piece of meat? Yeah, it'll do that to you."
Even if hadn't been so close, it would've been impossible to miss Kyanna's loud, frustrated sigh. "Here I thought I'd have a chance to talk to you... for you to prove to me you were different than before... Guess I was wrong, huh? I'm trying to reach out here, dude. How can you not see that?"
Something about that, perhaps the tone, or maybe the sharp, agonizing pang it caused within the chest, made Mikey punch his fists together.
What did she know?
"I don't have to prove anything to anybody... Look... just leave me in peace, alright?"
Stomping through the sand, stopping him dead with a pair of tight hands upon the shoulders, Miss Delrio spun Mike around. The look in her eyes was so intense, so overwhelming. "What? So you can enjoy your pity party? I know you too well, Winters... shit. If you're left alone with money, all twisted up and angry..."
That was when she backed away - her eyes of violet looking a million miles away. "You'll destroy yourself."
No word, no matter how bittersweet, held a shred of weight. If anything, he was determined above all else, regardless of his own well-being, to push on.
"That's no concern of yours, Kyanna... but I'll tell you now."
All of the bile, all of the sheer, unrelenting hatred bubbled to the surface - Mike's hands squeezing together into vicious balled knuckles.
"Soon as I'm done getting myself together... I'm going to find whoever did this."
His eyes narrowed, a sickening, vile anger swimming throughout. He was uncaring of who saw him, uncaring of who heard him, either. Even if it took an eternity, this fallen angel, would have his way.
"And when I do... I'll make them regret what they did... I don't care what it takes me... Somebody in Glenberry took everything from me... and I won't rest until I've repaid the favor."
It was then, in the blink of an eye, that Kyanna lost the color in her cheeks, taking a slow, measured step back. "What happened to you, Mike Winters? Have fame and fortune really changed you that much?"
His pledge had struck quite the nerve, it seemed.
"Maybe... I don't even know anymore."
There was no sense in sticking around any longer - it would only make things worse. Giving a short bow of the head, Mike moved cautiously in light of his altered vision, catching a glimpse of the stone staircase, which lead across to the boardwalk.
This was the right thing to do - even if his innermost protested, and somewhere, quietly, a flame flickered for the past.
"It's not worth it, idiota," Kyanna called out - her stern, motherly tone echoing across the expense of the golden sand. "You'll only make things worse! Is that what you want?"
Yet again, she'd silenced him - stopped those desperate escapist feet from making an exit. Sighing, forced to adress the depths even if he didn't want to, Mike reached out for the guardrail, taking the first step up before looking back.
"What good am I if I take this lying down, Kyanna? This time I've gotta set this straight… make a stand... even if it's for the wrong reasons."
Scowling, the Hispanic babe let out a low, annoyed shout, hands clenched into fists. She was like an archer, her narrowed gaze shooting a deadly arrow from all the way across the beach.
"GOD YOU'RE STUBBORN! Verga!"
She was speaking Spanish now? Mike pondered - going back to the many times he'd listened to his dear friend Nora rant about her foster family in the native tongue. It sounded like an insult, alright.
His lips curved into a smirk of some sort, especially at the mention of stubbornness. "That's probably why we keep meeting up like this, isn't it?"
Was it hard-headedness? Perhaps a lack of strength required to let go? Whatever the case, life kept throwing these two together, and it kept doing it on this damned beach, too.
Taking a moment to regain his composure, putting his anger on the low boil, at least for now, Mike exhaled, closing the gap yet again. There was an irony to this whole thing - a deep-rooted one at that.
Miss Delrio looked to be doing the same thing, too, the duo meeting halfway across the sand, almost as though an invisible line had been drawn, not allowing them to get too close all while the forces of gravity prevented them from becoming too distant.
He'd been stupid enough in this whole discussion. Mike looked beyond Kyanna, down the beach to the sight of her little boy, playing innocently with his soccer ball. It certainly put things into perspective. Before him stood a lone parent with far more responsibilities, and even now, she was trying to help.
Removing his hat and sunglasses, allowing the full extent of his scarred, damaged face to show, Winters made the first move.
"I'm sorry... You're right, too. I don't want this... not for a good reason anyway, but what am I supposed to do? Look at me. Nobody's gonna want to wake up next to his face every morning."
Though hesitant at first, Kyanna was the one to push ahead, smashing their wall of sorts. She held up, at least a handhold of space away, staring into him with those violet gemstones, fearless in every way.
"It's a couple of deep scars, and your eye's a little faded. That's all, dude. It's what's inside that counts. That's what I've been saying this whole time."
Honest and beautiful, the single mother clasped her hands together, holding them against her heart in something akin to a silent prayer. "What I mean is... don't lose that kindness of yours over this, Mike. I loved you for that big heart not so long ago…."
Her admission only brought the feelings to swell even harder. That sad, inner voice from a time long since passed cried out.
Mike felt himself cowering under the weight of such sentiment. "Then what should I do? Because right now I am so lost you couldn't begin to imagine."
In true Kyanna fashion however, past the fiery temperament of a fearsome mother bear, she held her hands upon those gorgeous, curvy hips, smiling with warmth befitting the setting sun.
"Show me the guy I cared about's still in there somewhere. Not the playboy, not the celebrity... and then we'll talk, kay?"
Many a moment slipped by - thoughts in overdrive as the singer searched within. Right now he was terribly low on people to rely on, people he could trust, but the offer laid out here was a precious one - that was for certain.
Of course he'd have to earn back Kyanna's trust. After all, they'd parted on such cloudy terms beforehand. Save the occasional, difficult visit to the salon for hair appointments in the past, they'd barely spoken since then, either.
The choice was clear. Mikey offered his hand. "Alright. I'll try and get shit t-"
Genuine comfort, deep and compassionate - the kind he'd not felt in so long. It all happened so fast, but Kyanna held him tight, squeezing the wounded musician within her arms, holding him tight The scent of her body spray, quaint and familiar ensnared the senses, causing him to float upon the waters of reflection.
By the time she let him go, all Mike could do was stand there, thoughts lost in a blur. Why'd she make a move like that?
"Go figure yourself out, dude. I'll see you on the flip-flop. You know where to find me."
Not another word - not a whisper. Kyanna gave a small, fragile smile before breaking away, stopping just short of the water to collect her son.
A strained glance toward the fancy, silver watch upon Mike's wrist brought some clarity. Exhaling, his hazy vision fixated upon the final rays of dying sunlight, he went back the way he'd came, stopping just short of the boardwalk to catch one final glimpse of Kyanna and her charge, leaving hand in hand, bright smiles upon their faces.
"Thanks, Kyanna... You're too good to me."
To be continued….
As always, thank you once again for taking the time out of your day to read this story. I hope you enjoyed it. Please consider leaving me some feedback. I'm always eager to hear from my readers and I really value your opinions. Did you like it? What would you like to see in future? Let me know!
As always, keep on supporting Huniepop and Huniecam Studio! If you like my Hunie projects then there's plenty more in the series to read. Happy Holidays to you all, and I will see you in the new year for the next chapter!