Author: LJ1983 PM
What became of Kirsty Cotton following Hellseeker? Each of the following drabbles is an outcome to her fate...Some happy, some not so happy.Rated: Fiction M - English - Drama/Horror - Kirsty - Chapters: 3 - Words: 4,633 - Reviews: 10 - Favs: 4 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 03-05-13 - Published: 06-10-12 - id: 8204422
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer- I own nothing of the HR franchise. All credit goes to Clive Barker, and grudgingly Dimension Films. Each drabble in this fic were ideas of mine, asides from this opening one. All credit for this drabble in particular goes to 14Member. She said I could have it, since she also had a Kirsty Fate following Hellseeker story but didn't know how to write out her other ideas and thought they were far too gloomy, unlike this one which is more or less a happy and romantic outcome. I'm grateful to 14Member for letting me have this drabble. :) Rated T just to be safe, but otherwise there's nothing too adult. And it is told in the first person narrative, as in Kirsty's POV. Please enjoy! ~ Laura
Not so long after the events of her husband's death, Kirsty is recalling in her diary the day she brought the man within the pinheaded Cenobite back to life, and into her heart...
It had happened not long following Trevor's death.
To this day I will never understand how I was able to pull such a miracle.
I won't tell anybody how I'd managed to do this. I mean, with how I managed to turn him - the demon - into a human again. It's too powerful of a knowledge; I've burdened myself hard enough already keeping it in my head. And if somebody else gets to know about that…I don't know, to my mind it's going to be a disaster. Anyway, I'm sure that people won't get proper use of this knowledge. That's why I won't share this with anyone, only with my diary. I have to at least write something down about that determining day.
Suffice to say, that my life's changed completely, and I hope irreversibly. Firstly, I've got to know that my dad is not in Hell for sure. That consoled me, my conscience and saved me from nightmares. Secondly, I've found the way of spending my dad's and uncle's fortune; to make fake documents for Elliot. And don't ask me where I've got them. But I did. Now I shouldn't be afraid that he might be stopped by someone in authority in the street and asked for ID, as he now has one to show.
Elliot is eager to get a job. I can't imagine what type of job he could get in this modern world with which I and everyone else on this planet takes for granted. You see, he's been absent from Earth, from humanity, for nearly ninety years and many things have changed since his time. And although I believe that he had been perfectly educated in his time, the knowledge and skills he once possessed are obsolete nowadays. So that's what I do in all my spare time; teach him to live in present time.
All day long he would sit with a notebook in his pocket and each time he hears an unfamiliar word, he would note in down and when I get home from work he would ask me about it, or search in the dictionaries himself. By the way, he loaded himself with books from my home library quite well - not only dictionaries, but encyclopedias, manuals, textbooks (especially history) and of course fiction – as well as contemporary authors of modern day fiction (I see it's easier and more pleasant for him to read) and several modern best-sellers that I carefully selected for him.
As for the technical part, he already has mastered the microwave, coffee maker, vacuum cleaner and TV. But he does not watch TV very often; he says he understands too little in modern programs. I'm leading him through the history of cinema, starting with Chaplin and Keaton's comedies and yesterday we were watching North by Northwest by Alfred Hitchcock. Elliot is still afraid to approach the computer (my fault, I shouldn't have told him that it's easy to break), but when I work on it, he watches. From time to time he asks me to let him drive. I have no idea what 90-years-old cars might look like but I came to a conclusion, that if you're able to drive one of the earliest Fords you'll be hardly able to drive a modern one without crashing it to pieces. So I'm not letting him. I'd better save money for some second-hand car and send him to a good driving school.
Everything mentioned above may lead you to the thought and everything is okay and all my cares are hardly different from those of the people who take care of their coming out of coma relatives. In fact it's not true; there are problems and they are far from being usual.
You see, Elliot's mind sometimes goes blank and he starts cutting himself 'for his pleasure'. He would simply explain to me that he just got used to it and 'without pain he's not quite himself'. I'm tired to be hysterical about this so, when such a masochist wish comes to his mind, I just send him to bathroom to do this; there it's easier to wipe off blood at least. And don't get me started on his nightmares; my neighbours have called the police twice, having been sure that somebody was being killed in my house. From time to time he's suffered from - to be exact - epileptic fits, as the doctor had since diagnosed him as being epileptic. I wish it was just epilepsy. He says it happens each time somebody opens a puzzle box on earth, and every time he falls unconsciously on the floor. Each time this happens I'm panic-stricken - not only because the box might be opened close to us and the Cenobites could reclaim him, but also that demon inside of him might break free once more.
No, I live not with a man lost in time, I live with a powder keg ready to explode any moment. I know what I'm doing. I'm ready for the risks. Appearing in my house back that day Elliot gave me what I thought I've lost forever - the meaning of life. Since the day my uncle killed my father I only existed, like a shadow or a ghost, lost in my fears and illusions. Now I live again. And even if everything ends badly, I won't regret a minute.
The time given to us together is most important.
Now, while I'm writing all this down in my diary I'm sitting on the sofa; baseball on the TV, and Elliot is lying near me with his head curled up on my lap. He's having a quiet nap. To make a full picture of the situation some stupid and sweet romantic confessions should be added.
"Kirsty..." Elliot suddenly spoke, his voice soft and murmuring; "...did I ever tell you that I love you?"
The time itself seemed to stand still as I took in his words.
"You fraud..." I finally burst into laughter as I stroke what little of the jet black hair he has on his head. "...confess, you've read my thoughts again, haven't you?
He says nothing, just smiles mysteriously and falls back to sleep again. As I finish my diary entry here the last thing I'd like to say is that for the first time after the long, long years I see the future optimistically...
...and with the man that I love.
Note - So, what do you think thus far? Good? Bad? Let me know what you think so far. ;D