The Better Days--chapter 8
Title: The Better Days
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG-13
Chapter: 8
Summary: When your whole world turns upside down in a minute, how do you handle it? How do you go on when you're missing a huge piece of yourself? This is Zac's story as he tries to survive the worst thing that's ever happened to him.
My beta, writingfanson, is teh awesome. Reviews make my life!!! :-)
So I haven't posted in forever, but I've been working on this story lately, and I figured I'd post another chapter. Please review if you read this--it means a lot to know people are reading and enjoying what I write!
I’m back in our house, sitting on our couch. Everything is kind of fuzzy except for the thing I’m holding in my hands-our wedding album, I notice as I look down at it. I don’t know why, but I slowly open the cover. There are the photos I’ve looked at a million times, relics of the happiest day of my life. There’s Kate in her wedding dress, staring off into the distance, a small smile on her face. There’s me tying my tie, looking a mixture between elated and terrified. There’s a shot of me watching Kate come down the aisle, my love for her showing in my tear-bright eyes. But when I get to the pictures of the two of us together during the ceremony, I stop. Something’s not right. Kate looks….pale. No…pale isn’t the word for it. Washed out? Yes. That’s it. Kate is fading, the image of her getting fainter and fainter with each page I turn. My heart pounds and dread creeps into my throat. I can feel goose pimples all over my skin as I turn to the last page in the album and see me arm-in-arm with…nothing. Kate isn’t there. She’s just…disappeared.
I put the book down, terror pounding in my veins, and rise off the couch. The window nearby seems to be glowing faintly. Feeling sick, I slowly make my way over, peering outside. It’s all white-bright; I can’t make anything out but brightness. Then, a figure materializes out of the blankness. A woman, clad in white, her long dark hair spilling down her back. I feel the strongest urge to run to this woman, but I’m frozen where I am, watching in horror as the woman slowly turns to look at me. Or, she would look at me, if she could. Kate’s face has been ripped off, leaving a dripping nightmare mess, her wedding dress soaked in red. I’m utterly frozen as she raises her blood-streaked arms and takes a step towards me. I can’t breathe as she comes right up to the window and presses her hand against the pane of glass. And that’s when I realize it’s not a hand at all. It’s a putrid stump of flesh that slowly melts against the windowpane; right before my eyes, my Katie rots away into nothingness.
Someone is screaming. Who’s screaming? I wish they’d stop; it’s really loud. Then I hear the other voice. “ZAC!!”
My eyes fly open; the screaming stops. I realize it was me screaming as I stare, terror still shaking my limbs, up at my brother, who looks about as terrified as I feel. Tears flood into my eyes before I can say anything, the loss of my wife hitting like a train wreck, and I let out a choking sob as Tay reaches to hug me. “Oh God, Zac…”
I vaguely hear small voices and then Natalie’s voice. I must’ve woken the kids. It makes me feel even worse; I’m disrupting their lives by my own life having been turned completely upside down. I let myself sob helplessly against Taylor as he runs his hand over my back, soothing me with soft words. I slowly get my breathing back under control and give Tay a little thanks-squeeze, shifting away from him a little.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, sniffling hard.
Tay pulls a tissue from somewhere and passes it to me. “Zac, it’s okay…don’t worry about it.”
“I didn’t mean to wake everybody up,” I sniffle, swiping at my face with the tissue.
“You couldn’t help it,” Tay says, squeezing my shoulder as I pull away and lean up against the headboard. I sigh shakily and squeeze my eyes shut; the image of Kate’s ruined face is vivid behind my lids, and I shudder weakly as my eyes fly open again. I can’t sleep anymore.
Tay’s watching me closely, looking worried. “You okay, Zac?” he says quietly.
I shrug. “I can’t sleep anymore,” I say softly. “But it’s okay…go back to bed.”
Tay frowns a little. “You sure you don’t need anything?” he asks.
“I’m okay,” I shrug. It’s a lie, of course. But, like Ike said, there really isn’t much other people can do. Sometimes I want people around all the time, and other times I can’t stand anyone else’s presence. I think right now is becoming a can’t-stand-anyone-else’s-presence time.
“Okay, Z. Try to get some rest, okay? And just let me or Nat know if you need anything.” Tay pats my shoulder a few times and quietly heads out of the room to help Natalie soothe the kids. I roll over and tug the covers over my head, hiding from the world, from the monsters in my dreams that are really monsters in real life. I close my eyes and try to think of something else. And there she is again, my Katie, smiling at me. I know what I need. I need my wife to be alive. My eyes shoot open again, and I sigh. I won’t be getting to sleep anytime soon.
I sit up and kick the covers off me. There’s gotta be something to do so I won’t just lie here and go insane. I scan the room, the paintings on the walls, my t-shirt and jeans from today crumpled on the floor (I make a mental note to be sure to put them in the laundry tomorrow; no need for me to make more extra work for Tay and Nat), my luggage stacked neatly in the corner…my guitar case leaning against the wall. I hadn’t even realized someone had grabbed my guitar. I haven’t played it in what seems like forever. Before I realize it, I’m out of bed and walking over to the guitar case.
I lift the case from the floor and cross back to the bed, setting it on the bed and opening it. For a moment, I just look at the guitar, the streetlight outside the window glinting off the polished wood. Then I pull it from the case and settle it on my lap, my fingers settling on the neck. Now I just need a pick. I reach over and pull one of my blue picks from the case, strumming all the open strings one by one. It’s a little out of tune; I fiddle with the pegs until every string sounds perfect. My hand forms a chord on the neck and I strum it, barely noticing the song I’m playing. It’s not my song, and I can’t play it nearly as well as Ike can; instead of all his fancy fingerwork I’m sitting playing chords. As if I’m on autopilot, my mouth opens, and I softly sing the words.
“Seems it’s been so long since I saw her smiling face, even though it was only yesterday, and I miss her, oh, yes I love her so, and I wonder why she had to go, and I said, her beautiful eyes are all I want to see staring back at me, like I’m starin’ into the sun, her tender touch is all I want to feel…” I trail off as I get to the part about the baby; unfortunately I’ll never get to hold our baby gently in my arms. I don’t know how I got started playing that song; it wasn’t a conscious choice. But Beautiful Eyes definitely is me right now…I would give anything in the world to see her beautiful eyes staring back at me again.