Post by Ian Hunt on Jan 9, 2008 22:02:31 GMT
Every hit that I've ever suffered is etched into my skin. I can feel the raised burns, cold and shiny against the matt texture of what little of my skin remains. The scars are pearly white, catching the light and making it hard to see me. Because I can't see. I am damaged beyond repair.
There are marks on my arms, words that I've carved into flesh. Some I know are really there like 'worthless'. And some I know aren't really there and are just marked into my sub-conscious like 'liar', 'murderer', 'sinner'. I can read the words like brail.
"Help me," My voice cracks halfway into the first word then breaks and dissolves completely. But not before I've had a chance to recognise that it's not my voice. It's a mixture of everyone that's ever suffered because of me. Rowan's is clear, tinged with an amused edge just like I remember. Gideon's raucous laughter blends in too. Matt and Claire's; sounding odd as their accents mingling with the others. I can hear Poppy's soft and innocent tones, enthused with Erin's. They sound very alike when mixed together like that, it's hard to even tell them apart. Will's mock sombre voice is tinged with Row's miserable one as I remember her crying on my shoulder because she's frightened of life without him. I try and stop thinking about the sound, but I can't. It's haunting, echoing with different voices that I can't match to names because I've only met them once. Only once but enough to make an end to their lives. Just a job, it's all a job, but it's all done and all coming back to haunt me.
My head's pounding, like my skull is trying to be out of my head and I put my scarred hands to it. All I can feel is ruined skin, flesh that's crumpled and puckered in a way it shouldn't be. My knees give way and I fall, but I keep falling until I land with a bone shattering jolt in the hallway to my old house.
I keep my eyes closed tightly, because I don't want to open them because it isn't over yet. I know it's not over yet. But I know where I am because it smells just the same as it always did, old and dusty and like pureblood perfume. Designed to make anyone sneeze uncontrollably.
"Get up," Scott's foot connects with my side, his voice isn't as low as it should be, as it is now. His hand isn't as rough as it should be as it closes around my now unblemished arm, hauling me to my feet, "You're so weird. What you doing lying on the floor like that?"
I force my eyes open and he's young again. I barely even remember a young Scott when I'm awake, so I don't know why I should remember him this way when I'm dreaming. But I know I don't remember any of this because I've repressed it for so long. Which hasn't made it disappear.
"He's brain dead, leave him alone."
My hand shoots out of it's own accord, coming into contact hard with the side of Rowan's head. But I don't even know where Rowan's come from.
He laughs, too loudly and not as low pitched as the adult Rowan would have and my heart aches.
I look back to see Scott but he's gone and I didn't hear him leave.
"Row-..." I start to say in a voice that I've long forgotten but as I turn back to meet his eyes, he's not there either. In his place is Damian. Tall and intimidating and Rowan without the smile is the only way I've allowed myself to remember him until now, but every terrifying detail has been etched into my memory and waiting all this time to be brought back to life for me now.
His grip is iron on my wrist, so cold and tight that it's burning through my skin and right to my bone so I try and struggle away as the cold spreads up my arm, settling in my chest like a living thing. But all it is is fear. Pinpricks of terror tracing up my spine as I try desperately to free myself but his fingers are unnaturally long and pale, like bleached bones that have been moulded specifically to fit my arm and he won't let go.
"Go on, Christopher," The smirk is achingly familiar, the cold eyes are devoid of life, boring into mine, "Run, Christopher."
"I'm trying! I swear I'm trying!" My reply doesn't make much sense, and I don't remember thinking it into being before it passes my lips.
It amuses him, and he laughs, high, cruel, cold, eyes narrowed with sadistic amusmant, "Trying isn't good enough."
I struggle away, swivelling on the spot with surprise as his hand releases my wrist and I stumble and nearly fall but my hip bone smashes into a waist high wall. It's made out of stone and covered with moss and it's outside and above a river but the river is hardly a river. More of a trickle in a ditch. Damian is gone, but I'm sure the relief is short-lived.
Sure enough, someone slams into me from behind, and forces me against the wall again. I wince and I'm sure that if that happens once more then the bone in my hip will actually shatter.
"I'm sorry Ian," The laughter is warm, alluring, inviting and painfully familiar, "That clumsiness will be the death of me."
"Or most likely me," My correction is equally warm, and I feel like I'm only an observer in my own mind.
Erin laughs, her lips brushing lightly against mine, "I love you."
"I love you too."
It's Maddie who draws away, not Erin, and her face is livid and contorted with rage, "I wouldn't be surprised if you made someone else jump off a tower!"
No, don't say that. Don't, please. Don't say that to me. I'm so sorry.
Her face relaxes into a smile again, but freezes like that and then she's falling, and I fall with her, out of instinct. I duck down to stay with her, because I need her to be alright. But she's not. And her eyes are frozen and glossed over, her smile is more of a grimace, strained and pale. Blood spots her forehead.
"You lose again Christopher," Logan is looking down at me. We're the same height, when I'm awake I know we're the same height, but here he is taller, he is stronger and I don't stand a chance.
"Congratulations," Will's arm is slung around his brother's shoulder. Because they are brothers and they have always been so. Their smirks are identical, just like they would be if they hadn't been so desperate to avoid it.
"You're never going to win," Liam is on Logan's other side, arms folded tight across his hollow chest.
"Winning isn't for people like you," Rowan agrees from Will's side.
My eyes are drawn to him immediately, his arms are full. Poppy is lying limp and lifeless over one arm, much smaller than she was. Her mouth is open in a silent scream, but there's no air in her lungs to make a sound. Her eyes are blood shot and stuck open, glassy and staring, darl red hair matted with blood. The other arm is curved loosely around Alex. I'm not sure if he's asleep or dead. There is something about the cold glint in Rowan's eyes that makes me sure it's the latter.
"You failed me," He tells me, his face is hard and cold, eyes narrowed in a glare, but his voice is choked and sad. It's pitiful. "You failed me, Chris. After everything I did for you, you leave me for dead?" His voice turns into a whisper at the end, and his face creases for a moment. I want to tell him it'll be alright but he's already looked up again with fierce resolve, anger piercing his cold pointed face, "I'll take what I'm owed, Chris. You owe me everything now."
The bundle in his arm stirs and his eyes drop, and my eyes follow. And slowly, but loudly and clearly, Alex starts to cry.[/i]
My eyes are open immediately. I realise I've bitten my lip so hard it's bleeding. I sit up slowly, but I'm still dizzy in the near darkness of the room. Alex is crying very loudly down the hall but I can't concentrate. My head hurts, my chest hurts, I can't breathe.
I rest my head in my hands, trying to draw breath which just rattles emptily around my lungs until I choke on air and lean over in the darkness, moving my legs round over the edge of the bed and coughing.
I feel like my chest is splitting in half, so I hunch my shoulders, trying to keep myself together in a literal sense.
Blood drips into my hands, and I put a hand to my face again, realising that my nose is bleeding as well as my lip.
I choke on blood this time and the irony pang of it burns my throat and makes my eyes water.
Some fucking nightmare.
Alex is still crying.
There are marks on my arms, words that I've carved into flesh. Some I know are really there like 'worthless'. And some I know aren't really there and are just marked into my sub-conscious like 'liar', 'murderer', 'sinner'. I can read the words like brail.
"Help me," My voice cracks halfway into the first word then breaks and dissolves completely. But not before I've had a chance to recognise that it's not my voice. It's a mixture of everyone that's ever suffered because of me. Rowan's is clear, tinged with an amused edge just like I remember. Gideon's raucous laughter blends in too. Matt and Claire's; sounding odd as their accents mingling with the others. I can hear Poppy's soft and innocent tones, enthused with Erin's. They sound very alike when mixed together like that, it's hard to even tell them apart. Will's mock sombre voice is tinged with Row's miserable one as I remember her crying on my shoulder because she's frightened of life without him. I try and stop thinking about the sound, but I can't. It's haunting, echoing with different voices that I can't match to names because I've only met them once. Only once but enough to make an end to their lives. Just a job, it's all a job, but it's all done and all coming back to haunt me.
My head's pounding, like my skull is trying to be out of my head and I put my scarred hands to it. All I can feel is ruined skin, flesh that's crumpled and puckered in a way it shouldn't be. My knees give way and I fall, but I keep falling until I land with a bone shattering jolt in the hallway to my old house.
I keep my eyes closed tightly, because I don't want to open them because it isn't over yet. I know it's not over yet. But I know where I am because it smells just the same as it always did, old and dusty and like pureblood perfume. Designed to make anyone sneeze uncontrollably.
"Get up," Scott's foot connects with my side, his voice isn't as low as it should be, as it is now. His hand isn't as rough as it should be as it closes around my now unblemished arm, hauling me to my feet, "You're so weird. What you doing lying on the floor like that?"
I force my eyes open and he's young again. I barely even remember a young Scott when I'm awake, so I don't know why I should remember him this way when I'm dreaming. But I know I don't remember any of this because I've repressed it for so long. Which hasn't made it disappear.
"He's brain dead, leave him alone."
My hand shoots out of it's own accord, coming into contact hard with the side of Rowan's head. But I don't even know where Rowan's come from.
He laughs, too loudly and not as low pitched as the adult Rowan would have and my heart aches.
I look back to see Scott but he's gone and I didn't hear him leave.
"Row-..." I start to say in a voice that I've long forgotten but as I turn back to meet his eyes, he's not there either. In his place is Damian. Tall and intimidating and Rowan without the smile is the only way I've allowed myself to remember him until now, but every terrifying detail has been etched into my memory and waiting all this time to be brought back to life for me now.
His grip is iron on my wrist, so cold and tight that it's burning through my skin and right to my bone so I try and struggle away as the cold spreads up my arm, settling in my chest like a living thing. But all it is is fear. Pinpricks of terror tracing up my spine as I try desperately to free myself but his fingers are unnaturally long and pale, like bleached bones that have been moulded specifically to fit my arm and he won't let go.
"Go on, Christopher," The smirk is achingly familiar, the cold eyes are devoid of life, boring into mine, "Run, Christopher."
"I'm trying! I swear I'm trying!" My reply doesn't make much sense, and I don't remember thinking it into being before it passes my lips.
It amuses him, and he laughs, high, cruel, cold, eyes narrowed with sadistic amusmant, "Trying isn't good enough."
I struggle away, swivelling on the spot with surprise as his hand releases my wrist and I stumble and nearly fall but my hip bone smashes into a waist high wall. It's made out of stone and covered with moss and it's outside and above a river but the river is hardly a river. More of a trickle in a ditch. Damian is gone, but I'm sure the relief is short-lived.
Sure enough, someone slams into me from behind, and forces me against the wall again. I wince and I'm sure that if that happens once more then the bone in my hip will actually shatter.
"I'm sorry Ian," The laughter is warm, alluring, inviting and painfully familiar, "That clumsiness will be the death of me."
"Or most likely me," My correction is equally warm, and I feel like I'm only an observer in my own mind.
Erin laughs, her lips brushing lightly against mine, "I love you."
"I love you too."
It's Maddie who draws away, not Erin, and her face is livid and contorted with rage, "I wouldn't be surprised if you made someone else jump off a tower!"
No, don't say that. Don't, please. Don't say that to me. I'm so sorry.
Her face relaxes into a smile again, but freezes like that and then she's falling, and I fall with her, out of instinct. I duck down to stay with her, because I need her to be alright. But she's not. And her eyes are frozen and glossed over, her smile is more of a grimace, strained and pale. Blood spots her forehead.
"You lose again Christopher," Logan is looking down at me. We're the same height, when I'm awake I know we're the same height, but here he is taller, he is stronger and I don't stand a chance.
"Congratulations," Will's arm is slung around his brother's shoulder. Because they are brothers and they have always been so. Their smirks are identical, just like they would be if they hadn't been so desperate to avoid it.
"You're never going to win," Liam is on Logan's other side, arms folded tight across his hollow chest.
"Winning isn't for people like you," Rowan agrees from Will's side.
My eyes are drawn to him immediately, his arms are full. Poppy is lying limp and lifeless over one arm, much smaller than she was. Her mouth is open in a silent scream, but there's no air in her lungs to make a sound. Her eyes are blood shot and stuck open, glassy and staring, darl red hair matted with blood. The other arm is curved loosely around Alex. I'm not sure if he's asleep or dead. There is something about the cold glint in Rowan's eyes that makes me sure it's the latter.
"You failed me," He tells me, his face is hard and cold, eyes narrowed in a glare, but his voice is choked and sad. It's pitiful. "You failed me, Chris. After everything I did for you, you leave me for dead?" His voice turns into a whisper at the end, and his face creases for a moment. I want to tell him it'll be alright but he's already looked up again with fierce resolve, anger piercing his cold pointed face, "I'll take what I'm owed, Chris. You owe me everything now."
The bundle in his arm stirs and his eyes drop, and my eyes follow. And slowly, but loudly and clearly, Alex starts to cry.[/i]
My eyes are open immediately. I realise I've bitten my lip so hard it's bleeding. I sit up slowly, but I'm still dizzy in the near darkness of the room. Alex is crying very loudly down the hall but I can't concentrate. My head hurts, my chest hurts, I can't breathe.
I rest my head in my hands, trying to draw breath which just rattles emptily around my lungs until I choke on air and lean over in the darkness, moving my legs round over the edge of the bed and coughing.
I feel like my chest is splitting in half, so I hunch my shoulders, trying to keep myself together in a literal sense.
Blood drips into my hands, and I put a hand to my face again, realising that my nose is bleeding as well as my lip.
I choke on blood this time and the irony pang of it burns my throat and makes my eyes water.
Some fucking nightmare.
Alex is still crying.
