s/a ficlet
Somebody Said A Prayer
~700 words, PG-13, language and near-suicide, loosely based off Billy Ray Cyrus's Somebody Said A Prayer video.
I don't own the people, or really the concept of the video.
I do own the words.
Trace doesn't know what to do when his dad is gone.
_______________________
When Trace's dad crashed into that lightpole, all he could think was, "Oh my God," before everything went black.
When he woke up in a sterile room six hours later, he didn't immediately register what happened. But when he saw his mom in the doorway, talking to a doctor with tears in her eyes, it came back to him. And suddenly he realized just why she was crying, and hewanted to cry too, but he didn't, just whispered, "Mom."
The next second she was at his side and he was in her arms. He could feel her shaking against him, feel her shoulders heave as she stroked his hair.
"Trace, baby," she sobbed. "You're alright. Oh, thank God, you're alright."
And he didn't have to ask about his dad, because he already knew what the answer would be. But as much as he wanted to cry, he didn't, he bit back tears. He had to stay strong for his mom and brother and sister.
Mrs. Cyrus cut off her husband's life support four days later.
A week later, he was sitting on his bed, trying to drown out the soft murmur coming from the front room. He hadn't been able to see the mourners. When he saw the casket in the foyer, he started to break. He slipped into the kitchen and reached into the cabinet above the fridge, pulling out a bottle of Jack Daniel's. He grabbed the sleeping pills his doctor had given him and ran back to his room, chancing a glance at his his mom at the dining room table. He could feel her heart breaking. He scratched out a message in his notebook.
Mom,
Please, forgive me for this. I know this has been just as hard for you as it has for me, if not harder. But Dad was my best friend. He was the oneI went to when something went wrong. But he's gone now, and it's almost like you are too, and I can't take anymore of this. I love you, Mama, but this is the only way to do this.
Forgive me, Mom. I love you more than anything. Please, remember your son, like I was at my seventeenth birthday party when you and Dad shoved my cake in my face.
Tell Justine and Tommy I love them too.
I'll miss you.
--Trace
He tore the page out from the spirals and set it on the mattress in front of him. He pulled the picture of him and his dad off the wall. Looking at their smiling faces, he felt a wetness in his eyes. And for the first time since the accident, he cried, tears of anger and sadness mixing together. He pushed his bangs away from his face, the tips clumping together from the wetness, sticking to his cheeks.
He took a swig from the bottle, letting more tears loose with the burn in his throat.
"What the hell, God?" he cried. "Why him? Why him and not me? He was a great guy. He didn't deserve to die. We didn't deserve to be left here, alone. We need him, God, don't you see that? We need to have him here. Why did you take him? Why?"
He took another gulp of Jack and fumbled with the childproof cap of his pill bottle. Just as he popped it open and the pills scattered across his mattress, he froze.
Suddenly, he felt like his dad was beside him, wrapping him in his arms.
And Trace cried even harder when he realized taht this wasn't necessary. His dad wouldn't want it. Somehow he knew that his dad needing him alive and taking care of his mom. He knew.
He grabbed the neck of the bottle and swung at the windowsill. The glass shattered, sending alcohol across his bed. But he didn't care.
He stood up and shook his head. He walked down the hall to his parent's bedroom. His mom and siblings were kneeling beside the bed, hugging. His mom looked up and, for the first time since the wreck, she smiled. And he felt right smiling back. He knew they were going to be okay.It would take some time and some prayer, but they could do it.
Together.
~700 words, PG-13, language and near-suicide, loosely based off Billy Ray Cyrus's Somebody Said A Prayer video.
I don't own the people, or really the concept of the video.
I do own the words.
Trace doesn't know what to do when his dad is gone.
_______________________
When Trace's dad crashed into that lightpole, all he could think was, "Oh my God," before everything went black.
When he woke up in a sterile room six hours later, he didn't immediately register what happened. But when he saw his mom in the doorway, talking to a doctor with tears in her eyes, it came back to him. And suddenly he realized just why she was crying, and hewanted to cry too, but he didn't, just whispered, "Mom."
The next second she was at his side and he was in her arms. He could feel her shaking against him, feel her shoulders heave as she stroked his hair.
"Trace, baby," she sobbed. "You're alright. Oh, thank God, you're alright."
And he didn't have to ask about his dad, because he already knew what the answer would be. But as much as he wanted to cry, he didn't, he bit back tears. He had to stay strong for his mom and brother and sister.
Mrs. Cyrus cut off her husband's life support four days later.
A week later, he was sitting on his bed, trying to drown out the soft murmur coming from the front room. He hadn't been able to see the mourners. When he saw the casket in the foyer, he started to break. He slipped into the kitchen and reached into the cabinet above the fridge, pulling out a bottle of Jack Daniel's. He grabbed the sleeping pills his doctor had given him and ran back to his room, chancing a glance at his his mom at the dining room table. He could feel her heart breaking. He scratched out a message in his notebook.
Mom,
Please, forgive me for this. I know this has been just as hard for you as it has for me, if not harder. But Dad was my best friend. He was the oneI went to when something went wrong. But he's gone now, and it's almost like you are too, and I can't take anymore of this. I love you, Mama, but this is the only way to do this.
Forgive me, Mom. I love you more than anything. Please, remember your son, like I was at my seventeenth birthday party when you and Dad shoved my cake in my face.
Tell Justine and Tommy I love them too.
I'll miss you.
--Trace
He tore the page out from the spirals and set it on the mattress in front of him. He pulled the picture of him and his dad off the wall. Looking at their smiling faces, he felt a wetness in his eyes. And for the first time since the accident, he cried, tears of anger and sadness mixing together. He pushed his bangs away from his face, the tips clumping together from the wetness, sticking to his cheeks.
He took a swig from the bottle, letting more tears loose with the burn in his throat.
"What the hell, God?" he cried. "Why him? Why him and not me? He was a great guy. He didn't deserve to die. We didn't deserve to be left here, alone. We need him, God, don't you see that? We need to have him here. Why did you take him? Why?"
He took another gulp of Jack and fumbled with the childproof cap of his pill bottle. Just as he popped it open and the pills scattered across his mattress, he froze.
Suddenly, he felt like his dad was beside him, wrapping him in his arms.
And Trace cried even harder when he realized taht this wasn't necessary. His dad wouldn't want it. Somehow he knew that his dad needing him alive and taking care of his mom. He knew.
He grabbed the neck of the bottle and swung at the windowsill. The glass shattered, sending alcohol across his bed. But he didn't care.
He stood up and shook his head. He walked down the hall to his parent's bedroom. His mom and siblings were kneeling beside the bed, hugging. His mom looked up and, for the first time since the wreck, she smiled. And he felt right smiling back. He knew they were going to be okay.It would take some time and some prayer, but they could do it.
Together.