|i've seen christmas lights reflect in your eyes
Author: little toy soldiers PM
Stephen, Boo and Callum and the stories of how they went to the brink of death and came back./ "And then there was an empty darkness that felt so cold and bitter."-oneshot. dark themes.Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Supernatural - Words: 2,335 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 2 - Published: 04-22-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8050482
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The world was alive. Music pounded so loud; Boo thought her veins would burst.
She felt so loose and free; she thought she would melt into a puddle on the floor.
She didn't think; she just did.
A boy came up to her, and she smiled a slow, seductive smile that had never fallen upon her lips until that moment. She didn't think about the fact that she didn't know him or that he looked too old for her. All Boo thought was oh, he has really nice eyes.
The boy said, "Do you want to dance?" and she said, "Yes."
Her best friend Violet was moving to the beat with another stranger and winked at Boo over his shoulder.
She was 17.
She was so stupid.
The boy brought her really close to him, resting his hands dangerously close to her bum. Never had she allowed a boy touch her like that before; she liked it.
She was so free.
She felt so alive.
When Boo and the handsome stranger took a break, he ordered her a beer. She didn't tell him she already drank four, she just downed it in five minutes flat. She ignored the loud buzzing in her head and the way the world spinned so quickly when she hopped off her stool.
She should have known it was dangerous.
She should have known.
Maybe she had a sense the night wouldn't end well that afternoon when she had accepted Violet's offer to go to a club with her. After all, she always hears stories of awful hook ups after nights of partying from her friends. But no, she needed a break, and she didn't care about the consequences at all.
"Do you wanna go somewhere?" His breath warmed her already sweaty face. She really did.
"Boo, sweetie!" Violet appeared from behind her and threw an arm around her friend. "We gotta get out of heeerrreee!" Her speech was really slurred. Boo laughed like it was so funny. It was funny; everything was funny.
Boo took her best friend's hand and they ran out the club, leaving the boy behind. "Oh, shit." Violet laughed so hard, staring at her phone."It's two hours past curfew." Boo laughed some more.
They ran to Violet's car and got inside, reveling in the warmth that enveloped them. Violet started driving.
They were both so young.
They were in way over their heads.
"Oooh! I love this song!" Violet shouted, reaching over to turn up the radio louder. The beat to the music vibrated against the tips of Boo's fingers as she rested them against the window sill, looking out at the night sky. The two girls sang along to the song at the top of their lungs; throwing their heads back, feeling young, and wild, and free.
They didn't see the truck coming.
Of course they didn't see it coming.
They say one's life will flash before their eyes before death reaches out and takes hold of them. Boo didn't get that. There were lights; there were flashes; there were screams. And there was blood. A lot of blood.
And then there was an empty darkness that felt so cold and bitter.
When life seeped back into her, she could see even brighter lights and even louder screams. The pain that throbbed in her head had nothing to do with the large quantities of alcohol she had consumed that night.
"Violet," Boo whispered when she saw her bloodied and lifeless friend lying on the cold stone pavement. Somewhere nearby an ambulance was wailing.
And Boo cried.
"It's ok. It's alright." A woman stood above Boo and patted her arm.
"Are you an angel?" She whispered through her tears and sobs.
The woman looked at her. "No. Not really."
Boo didn't question it. Her head hurt and her soul felt even worse.
"You're going to be ok, dear." Boo began losing consciousness again as the woman said, "Everything will be just fine."
She had been given another chance, and she sure as hell was not going to take it for granted.
The day was cold and dreary and wet; Callum just wanted to get home. As he jogged alone the cobblestone streets, he huffed and saw his breath. He only wore shorts and a t-shirt. He was going to get sick for sure.
When he passed the estate he thought about what his friends had told him, it was good shortcut. Callum had never really cared much for rules, but something had still made him stop before crossing through the estate. He probably wouldn't get caught; the buildings were abandoned after all. But some feeling made him unsure…
He shrugged it off and continued his way. His feet pounded through big puddles, but he didn't care; he was already soaking.
He saw the electrical chord too late. His was in the middle of a big puddle and had no time to run out before the chord slithered into it. He had no time to wonder how the chord could have moved on its own to begin with. One second he was running and the next he felt a painful jolt within him. He let out a cry and fell too his knees, clutching his head.
Callum was sure the boy that was standing in front of him holding the chord had not been there a second ago. But he was there now and he had a smug smirk on his face, bloody amused at Callum's pain. The bastard. He wore something that seemed straight out of the 70's. Who was this kid?
"No, don't!" Callum tried to cry out when he saw the boy inch the chord back towards the puddle. "Please!" His voice was nothing but a pathetic croak.
The boy didn't seem to listen or care. The chord was back in the water and Callum screamed as lights flashed behind his eyes. He fell face first into the puddle.
Everything was black.
The phone rang at a constant rhythm for one minute; the only sound in the room.
The room was dark and small. The bed was neatly made and the sheets looked freshly washed as if no one had slept in them for days.
That was because no one had.
The answering machine picked up the call when no one had answered. There was a click and then a voice. "Hey, Stephen. It's Trey. There's a lacrosse game we're setting up, and I was wondering if you wanted to join." There was a short pause, as if the caller was expecting someone to pick up the phone at that very moment. "Anyway, call me back...I haven't seen you much these past couple of days. Where have you been? Did you get your letter from Cambridge yet?" Another pause, no response. "Just...call me back. Bye."
The tall figure finally got up from its spot from the cold floor and stared at the phone. There were people outside the door chattering as they left for dinner.
Stephen was supposed to join them, but he just remained in his room, too tired and depressed to get up and do anything.
She's dead. She's dead. She's dead.
As the thoughts settled back in his mind, he shut his eyes really hard, willing them away. Of course, they didn't go away though. He had spent the past three days that way; alone in his room, lying on his bed and just thinking about the death of his sister that happened years ago. The cold thoughts kept him up at night, so he would pace his room.
When he walked over to his mirror and looked in, the image that came back was almost unrecognizable. His black hair was disheveled and sticking out at all directions, and there were dark circles haunting his eyes. He looked like death.
When Stephen reached the dining hall, his friends looked up at him from their plates and frowned, looking at him as if he was a complete stranger. "Hello," He said once he reached them. He sat down beside Roy and forced a smile.
There was a long silence and dozens of stares before Trey finally spoke up. "Did you get accepted?"
He knew they suspected the answer to be no. He had drawn back from all of them once he had gotten the letter so their assumptions made sense. But their assumptions were wrong. "Yes," he responded, softly.
Trey smiled. "Congratulations." Stephen just forced a smile again and reached for a biscuit from the center of the table. "It must feel like a great weight has been lifted, huh?"
"Yeah. Something like that." He was lying straight through his teeth.
Stephen found himself staring at his ceiling and thinking again.
He had worked so hard the past couple of years since her death to block everything out of his mind. School was a priority and sports were a constancy. He learned to forget that his parents didn't care and that the sister that he had loved was gone and was never coming back. He never screamed and he never cried. He was pure stone.
Getting into Cambridge made him stop and made him feel. School was just about over and sports were ending. There were absolutely no more distractions.
Now he hurt all over. His stomach twisted and turned and his head felt like it would it explode.
His parents didn't care. She was gone.
He cried and hit his pillow; he screamed and hit his head against the wall.
He was going insane.
And he was no longer thinking.
Of all the places at Eton, the boathouse was his favorite. It was peaceful and quiet and was always a great place to go to study. There were never any loud teenage boys discussing mindless things that Stephen had no interest in. It was just Stephen and the water.
There was something particularly eerie about the boathouse that night. It was really dim and the water from the lake casted shadows against the wooden walls. In the distance Stephen could hear a bird calling out.
His legs seemed to have a mind of their own as they walked him over to a shelf in the corner. His hands reached out and grabbed a long rope despite the fact that some part far and deep within in his mind seemed to be screaming Stop!
When Stephen had left his room, he hadn't thought about why he was leaving and what he was planning on doing when he left. He had just got up and walked and in that moment it was clear on what he intended to do. He didn't stop to think about the pros and cons; he didn't stop to think about what he was leaving behind. He just didn't think at all.
He swung the rope over one of the high beams and grabbed a chair, placing it in the middle of the room. The beams were high, but Stephen was tall and he was able to reach up and make loop with the rope once he had climbed onto the chair. He tied the knots nice and tight and tugged on them to make sure they were secure.
The voice far within him was screaming some more. Stop! Stop! Stop! STOP!
He continued to ignore it.
And then he did it. He placed his head into the loop, and he kicked the chair free.
The pain came instantly. The rope was burning his neck and it felt like his neck was pulling into an excruciating angle. The rope was cutting off his airway so he couldn't breathe. Black spots were forming in his eyes and at that moment, death seemed like a privilege.
The pain brought back the thoughts he had blocked out hours ago. This was a big mistake, he knew that now. Unfortunately, some mistakes cannot be taken back.
He was going to die tonight. He realized he didn't want to die.
He started to fight and struggle but he soon found it was a pointless cause.
The voice that came surprised Stephen. He had locked the doors so he wasn't sure how someone could have gotten in. He looked up and saw a boy dressed in the Eton attire but he didn't recognize the boy at all which was a rarity. The boy tilted his head and watched Stephen curiously as if Stephen was not on the brinks of death at that moment. "You can see me, can't you?" He whispered.
Stephen wanted to say something incredibly sarcastic but the rope prevented him from doing so. The boy placed the chair back up, allowing Stephen to step onto it and walked away.
Stephen took a big breath of air and ripped the rope of his neck. He rubbed his neck and felt the raw skin there.
Stephen had passed out on his bed and tugged the covers around felt a little sick knowing he had almost died that night.
When he thought about the boy he saw, he knew there was something not normal about him. That boy defiantly did not go to his school. He must have been going crazy.
One thing he knew for sure, there had to more to life then this.
And so Stephen Dene flicked off the light and slept for the first time in days.
a/n: sorry Callum's story was so short...it was more simple compared to Boo and Stephen's I suppose? And I just had so much fun writing for Boo and Stephen I kinda left poor Callum in dust. Review yeah?