(no subject)
First and second chapters of my NaNo, everyone. Enjoy. =]
Oh! Oh! And Sushi knows how to do LJ cuts now! Thanks be to remix for her help on that. ^_^
Title: Collide
Genre: Other Genres - People and Perspective (with dabblings into Romance. A lot.)
Rating: T
Word Count: 3161
Chapter One:
Christy Harris was not a rule breaker. She’d never been one. Born the daughter of a police chief, her father, and a judge, her mother, in a small Minnesota town, there hadn’t ever been much room for rule bending, let alone breaking. While most teens kicked, punched, screamed, and fought through their adolescent years, Christy kept her head down and did what she was told. It didn’t provide for the most exciting experiences, granted, but it wasn’t a bad way to grow up. She hadn’t expected college to be any different than high school, because in her mind New York City wouldn’t be too much of a change from Goodhue, Minnesota.
Then she got to New York, where she met her housemates Rayne and Whitney. Crazy, beautiful, and seemingly unafraid of the limits and boundaries Christy held so dear in the previous years of her life, the pair had grown up together in the city and welcomed a hesitant Christy Harris with open arms, open closets, and open bottles of liquid eyeliner. Back in Goodhue, people often thought Christy had been pretty, if not a bit on the plain side. Her tendency to follow every guideline presented to her hadn’t exactly helped. In a matter of weeks, however, Rayne and Whitney had transformed their small-town friend into someone who turned heads when she walked down the street.
“Make up,” Rayne Anderson would often remind anyone who was listening, “is a powerful thing.” She was New York City’s nineteen year old makeup prodigy, undiscovered but fabulous nonetheless. She was a relatively quiet person who had the tendency to blatantly ignore anyone she found unworthy of her time (which, luckily, did not include Christy), her hair was never the same color three months in a row, and her wealthy parents were the reason she could afford the largest portion of rent for the upscale Manhattan apartment which they shared. Rayne was often labeled as an ice queen for her frosty gazes and prolonged silences, but there were times when Christy thought she could see a softer, more delicate side that wasn’t always obvious to the world.
Slowly but surely, Christy had shed the awkward skin of her younger, less experienced self and for the first time felt comfortable with who she was and where she was going. For a while she’d tried to cling onto her old, more responsible ways, and yet day by day she found herself slipping into the chaos that was New York City with her two new friends.
But even the crazy city girl buzz that Christy had come to find familiar couldn’t keep her from noticing that the car she was currently riding in was eating the pavement ahead of it at an alarmingly fast rate. She tried to ignore it, but it wasn’t easy when the trees that lined the dark, empty highway the little black Jetta practically flying down went by faster than her eyes could register. She was coming back from a three day road trip to New Jersey that Rayne and Whitney had convinced her to go on, but neither girl was actually driving. Christy tried to tune into the car conversation in hopes of blocking out the responsible warning bells that were shrieking at the base of her skull.
“Kelly,” Rayne was saying from the passenger seat, “there’s no possible way you can like this trash.” Beside her, his hands loosely gripping the steering wheel, Kelly Green shot his girlfriend a grin.
“You’re saying that you don’t find deep philosophical meaning in the lyrics?”
“Hardly,” the currently violet haired girl let a rare snort escape her before glancing out the window in an attempt to ignore the radio station her boyfriend had chosen, but smiled softly when Kelly placed one of his hands over hers. Over the past few months, Christy had gotten used to their love-hate relationship, and even found herself laughing at their silly arguments as well as relishing in the warm, fuzzy feelings she got from their small acts of affection for one another.
“The song is called Bloody Tales of a Shattered Soul. I really don’t get where you’re getting all this idealistic reasoning,” Whitney remarked, straightening up in her seat behind Rayne.
“Seconded,” Christy decided to take action and clambered forward, punching various numbers on the radio control until she found a station she liked. Satisfied, she returned to her back seat beside Whitney.
“A few months ago, you never would’ve had the guts to do that,” Rayne looked over her shoulder at Christy with a smirk. “You’ve come a long way since I met you, and I want you to know that you own it all to Whit and me.”
“Sure, whatever,” Christy shrugged her friend’s words off, but inside she glowed at the compliment. “While I’m at it, being bold and everything, you feel like slowing down Kelly? I think you’re gonna break the sound barrier soon if you’re not careful.”
“She’s right, you’re pretty much pushing eighty,” Whitney leaned forward and rested her head on the shoulder of Rayne’s seat to examine the dashboard more closely.
“That’s how we live, Christy. Fast.” Kelly quickly brought Rayne’s fingers to his lips before dropping her hand, clutching the wheel dramatically, and flooring the accelerator.
“Yeah, until we’re all paint on a tree!” Rayne spat, her fingers wrapped tightly around the handle on the door. “Do us all a favor: stop showing off and drive like a sane person.” Her words made Kelly let up on the gas. A bit.
“You’re no fun.”
“If you’re looking for fun, I’m probably not the girl for you then.”
“Maybe, but you’re good in bed.”
“Say that again, Kelly. See what happens. I dare you.”
“Maybe, but you’re good in-”
“Kelly…”
Whitney groaned as she turned to Christy. “You getting sick of them yet?”
“They’re cute,” Christy shrugged, pushing a lock of red hair behind her ear.
“You say that until you’re stuck in a broken elevator with them for three hours,” Whitney countered with a weary smile. “It happened back in high school, and while I love them both, it was pure hell in there. And this was before they got together, so the sexual tension was like, through the roof.”
If there was one thing that could be said for Whitney Vaughn, it was that she had the most genuine smile Christy had ever seen. She was an aspiring model, a fashion major, and so cheerful that she was sometimes thought to be inhuman. There was no denying that she had a temper when provoked at length (as made obvious one night when a barista at the local coffee shop wouldn’t stop making crude passes at her), but even then her anger seemed just. Everything she did, she did from her heart, and that was all anyone could ask from her. Some thought Whitney beautiful, and while her personality did indeed radiate true beauty, Christy had always seen her features to be more striking than anything else. Critically speaking, her eyes were slightly too far apart, her eyebrows were a bit too high and small, and her chin was just a smidge too long. Yet on Whitney Vaughn, all the little imperfections that would’ve looked off on anyone else seemed to work together to create not a beautiful face, but one that you wouldn’t soon forget. Sometimes people would say that Whitney and Christy looked somewhat similar to one another, mostly due to their red hair and similar skin tones. But most of the time, Christy felt like her friend was on an entirely different level of beauty.
“That’s such a pretty necklace!” Whitney’s eyes shone brightly as they swept Christy’s neckline.
“What? Oh, thanks,” she had unconsciously begun to bite her lip, a nervous habit. The car was going way too fast.
“Where’d you get it?”
“Seth.”
“Ooh,” Whitney smiled, her reddish hair falling forward as she leaned down. “A wedding present?”
“Hardly,” Christy rolled her eyes. Seth Burnette was one of the few things she’d held on to from what she sometimes thought of as her “past life.” Seth and Christy ahd practically grown up together, although it wasn’t until their junior year in high school that he ‘grew a pair,’ as Rayne had put it when Christy was recounting her love life for her two new friends, and asked her to be his girlfriend. “He bought it for me a couple days ago.”
“You guys have been going out for three years,” Whitney pointed out, catching the pendant in her hand and struggling to read the inscription without cutting into Christy’s skin with the chain. “It might as well be a wedding present.”
“Yeah, yeah. Here, it’s easier to see when it’s not attached to my neck,” as she spoke, Christy reached back and unhooked the clasp, passing the jewelry to her friend after a small untangling bout with her hair.
“Wow,” Whitney palmed the heart pendant carefully, “I need to get a boyfriend as sweet as Seth, God.”
“Speaking of which…” Christy had pulled a vibrating cell phone from the back pocket of her jeans and flipped it open. “Hello?”
“Chris! Hey, we still on for dinner tomorrow night?” Seth’s voice sent all thoughts of how fast the car was going clear out of her mind.
“Miss dinner with you? Never.” At her side, Whitney raised an eyebrow and held up the necklace that still sat in her palm. Christy shook her head and raised a finger, asking for a moment of privacy. Whitney was happy to oblige, closing her hand around the chain and pendant and shutting her eyes as though attempting to absorb the music playing. Or block out her two still arguing friends in the front seat.
Or both.
“What’re you up to?” Christy’s attention returned to her boyfriend at his question.
“Breaking the law,” she remarked sarcastically, playing with a loose lock of hair.
“Really?”
“Well, breaking the speed limit, anyways.”
“How irresponsible of you.”
“I’m always told that I’m too responsible. Maybe it’s time to change it up.”
“I like your responsibility.”
“I like you,” as she said the words, Christy could practically see Seth grinning, wherever he was.
“I’m touched.” His favorite phrase.
“I know. What’re you doing?”
“Hanging out with Blake and my brother and a couple of his friends.”
“Beer and video games?”
“Basically.”
“I should’ve known. Sounds intellectual.”
“You have no idea.”
“So how’s-”
Screeeeech.
“Kelly! Slow down!” Rayne was yelling. “You almost hit the-”
“I can’t control the car! It’s going too fast, Ray!” Kelly’s eyes were wild as the Jetta suddenly spun out to the right.
Whitney was screaming.
“Christy? Christy, are you okay?” Seth’s voice was in her ear. The car collided with something solid.
“Seth-!” Christy screamed as she was thrown against the car door and pinned in place by Whitney’s unconscious body.
“Christy? Christy?”
Static.
Chapter Two:
April 15th, 2005
The doctors say you’re going to be okay. Thank God. I can barely recognize you, Chris. That’s how banged up you are. I wish I could have a conversation with you, but you’re in a freakin’ coma. I miss your smile. You’ve always been so responsible. I don’t understand how you actually let that Kelly guy drive so damn fast. I mean, you freak out when I go ten miles per hour over the speed limit. But ninety, on a dark highway? I wasn’t lying when I said I liked your responsibility. And now Kelly and Whitney are dead. Rayne’s condition is still undetermined. Maybe I’m being selfish, but the fact that you’re alive is really all I care about.
I miss your laugh.
Love,
Seth
April 19th, 2005
She fought hard, Chris. She really did. And the doctor did everything they could. But she’s gone, Christy. Rayne is gone. And now you’re the only one left. I’m so scared that the doctors are wrong; that you’re not going to make it, just like the rest of them. It’s been four days, and you still haven’t woken up. I don’t know if it means anything while your lying here fighting for your life, but I love you Chris. I always have.
Love,
Seth
April 28th, 2005
I came as soon as the doctors called. You’re awake. Or, you were. Now you’re back to sleeping again. It’s killing me to see you like this Christy, no God awful joke intended. I brought you some soup, but I’m not so sure you’ll like it. You know how bad I am at cooking. I asked the nurse to offer it to you next time you wake up, but its okay if you don’t want to eat it.
They’re holding memorial services for Whitney, Rayne, and Kelly today. All at once, because their parents figured that they would’ve wanted to be remembered together. I’ll take you to their graves when you’re better, Christy. I promise.
I was sitting here with you, and I remembered that day we spent at that park in New Jersey last month. You fell asleep on my shoulder on the drive home. But as soon as I pulled into your apartment complex parking lot, you woke up. It was like you were on a timer or something. I wish you could wake up now. Right this very second.
Or maybe your timer’s not quite ready to go off yet.
I think I’d be a really crappy philosopher.
Love,
Seth
May 2nd, 2005
Your dad just called. He apologized nearly a million times for not coming immediately, but your mom had the flu. Apparently she was throwing up and everything. I know you and your dad fought hard (for literally the first time ever, I swear, you were such a perfect teen) about you leaving for New York, but he sounded completely destroyed. They’ll both be here tomorrow, Christy, your mother and your father. And they’ll make you better soup than I did, I promise.
Thanks for eating mine, by the way. I didn’t think you would.
I feel like I’m talking to myself whenever I write in this journal. I just want you to know that I was here for you the whole time when you wake up. I haven’t been to work in days, I’m getting really behind in my classes, and my rent’s overdue, to be quite honest. But I’m here, Chris. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, even though I know that if you were awake you’d probably scold me for being so irresponsible. Thank God for roommates. Blake paid my share for this month, and most of last month’s too. He made you some cream soup before going to track practice to day, by the way. Said you might want something edible for a change, being my girlfriend and everything. I hope you don’t mind that I accidentally spilled it.
On Blake.
I have to do his laundry for a week as penance, but I think it was worth it this time.
Why don’t you ever wake up when I’m here?
Love,
Seth
May 4th, 2005
Your mom and dad came by today. Actually, they just left. They practically had a breakdown a piece when they saw you, not that I blame them. You’re worth a thousand breakdowns if not more, especially in the condition you’re in. Apparently, in the fifteen minutes that I left the room so your parents could have time alone with you, you actually woke up and called your dad ‘Gabriel.’ He got a little freaked that you mistook him for your grandfather, but I think he’ll get over it. You were asleep again by the time I got back, though. That sucked, I’m not gonna lie.
I can still hardly recognize you, and its hell to watch you struggling so hard to heal. The doctors say you’re making extraordinary progress, but to be quite honest I’m not really seeing it.
Love,
Seth
May 10th, 2005
You opened your eyes today, Christy, and I was there to see it. It was amazing. And it’s funny, because usually your eyes are so blue, but I could’ve sworn that there was green in them when you looked at me. Probably the lighting in the room. I’ve never liked hospitals.
Oh, and the nurse told me that you liked my soup. Christy, you almost died. You don’t have to pretend so my feelings aren’t hurt. Really, my manly ego can take a few blows at this point, especially for you. I promise I’ll get over it.
Love,
Seth
May 15th, 2005
Your parents have been visiting regularly. I thought I should record that, even though I should probably also mention that your dad keeps grumbling about how none of this would’ve happened if you’d stayed in Minnesota and hadn’t met such irresponsible city delinquents. Obviously he’s never had to deal with Dirk and Nathan, those two near kamikaze drag racers, during his time thus far as police chief. Though that’s probably because they were jailed on drug charges when we were five and my brother was eight, before your dad was made head honcho. I think Dirk and Nathan moved away after being released.
You were awake again today, but just barely. When I said your name, you groaned like your head was hurting and whispered something, but I couldn’t hear it. I took your hand, Chris, and you squeezed it softly. I miss holding your hand and taking walks with you. The nurse came in and I asked if she could tell what you were trying to say.
“‘Whitney,’” she told me. “She’s saying ‘Whitney.’ She says it every time we try to interact with her. None of us have had the heart to tell her that Whitney is gone.”
I didn’t either. I still don’t. But I guess you’ll find out eventually. I think I even wrote about it on the first entry in this journal. Maybe I should tell you before I give this to you to read.
Love,
Seth
May 17th, 2005
Apparently, the police called me last night. I was here with you in the hospital, but Blake took a message. They said that they have a bunch of assorted personal belongings of yours that need to be collected. Your purse survived the crash, and I’m told that you were clutching the necklace I gave you nearly a month ago in your fist when the paramedics got to you.
I’m not gonna lie. I’m touched.
You’ve been shifting a lot in your sleep. I placed a hand on your arm, and you seemed to relax. You always did say you felt safe with me, like the world couldn’t get you. The doctor just came in. He’s examining your chart, then looking at you carefully. God, if this guy is some kind of perverted, sick…
He’s asking me if I’ll please step outside the room with him. He looks seriously nervous about something. Oh, God, please tell me everything’s going okay.
Love,
Seth
Oh! Oh! And Sushi knows how to do LJ cuts now! Thanks be to remix for her help on that. ^_^
Title: Collide
Genre: Other Genres - People and Perspective (with dabblings into Romance. A lot.)
Rating: T
Word Count: 3161
Chapter One:
Christy Harris was not a rule breaker. She’d never been one. Born the daughter of a police chief, her father, and a judge, her mother, in a small Minnesota town, there hadn’t ever been much room for rule bending, let alone breaking. While most teens kicked, punched, screamed, and fought through their adolescent years, Christy kept her head down and did what she was told. It didn’t provide for the most exciting experiences, granted, but it wasn’t a bad way to grow up. She hadn’t expected college to be any different than high school, because in her mind New York City wouldn’t be too much of a change from Goodhue, Minnesota.
Then she got to New York, where she met her housemates Rayne and Whitney. Crazy, beautiful, and seemingly unafraid of the limits and boundaries Christy held so dear in the previous years of her life, the pair had grown up together in the city and welcomed a hesitant Christy Harris with open arms, open closets, and open bottles of liquid eyeliner. Back in Goodhue, people often thought Christy had been pretty, if not a bit on the plain side. Her tendency to follow every guideline presented to her hadn’t exactly helped. In a matter of weeks, however, Rayne and Whitney had transformed their small-town friend into someone who turned heads when she walked down the street.
“Make up,” Rayne Anderson would often remind anyone who was listening, “is a powerful thing.” She was New York City’s nineteen year old makeup prodigy, undiscovered but fabulous nonetheless. She was a relatively quiet person who had the tendency to blatantly ignore anyone she found unworthy of her time (which, luckily, did not include Christy), her hair was never the same color three months in a row, and her wealthy parents were the reason she could afford the largest portion of rent for the upscale Manhattan apartment which they shared. Rayne was often labeled as an ice queen for her frosty gazes and prolonged silences, but there were times when Christy thought she could see a softer, more delicate side that wasn’t always obvious to the world.
Slowly but surely, Christy had shed the awkward skin of her younger, less experienced self and for the first time felt comfortable with who she was and where she was going. For a while she’d tried to cling onto her old, more responsible ways, and yet day by day she found herself slipping into the chaos that was New York City with her two new friends.
But even the crazy city girl buzz that Christy had come to find familiar couldn’t keep her from noticing that the car she was currently riding in was eating the pavement ahead of it at an alarmingly fast rate. She tried to ignore it, but it wasn’t easy when the trees that lined the dark, empty highway the little black Jetta practically flying down went by faster than her eyes could register. She was coming back from a three day road trip to New Jersey that Rayne and Whitney had convinced her to go on, but neither girl was actually driving. Christy tried to tune into the car conversation in hopes of blocking out the responsible warning bells that were shrieking at the base of her skull.
“Kelly,” Rayne was saying from the passenger seat, “there’s no possible way you can like this trash.” Beside her, his hands loosely gripping the steering wheel, Kelly Green shot his girlfriend a grin.
“You’re saying that you don’t find deep philosophical meaning in the lyrics?”
“Hardly,” the currently violet haired girl let a rare snort escape her before glancing out the window in an attempt to ignore the radio station her boyfriend had chosen, but smiled softly when Kelly placed one of his hands over hers. Over the past few months, Christy had gotten used to their love-hate relationship, and even found herself laughing at their silly arguments as well as relishing in the warm, fuzzy feelings she got from their small acts of affection for one another.
“The song is called Bloody Tales of a Shattered Soul. I really don’t get where you’re getting all this idealistic reasoning,” Whitney remarked, straightening up in her seat behind Rayne.
“Seconded,” Christy decided to take action and clambered forward, punching various numbers on the radio control until she found a station she liked. Satisfied, she returned to her back seat beside Whitney.
“A few months ago, you never would’ve had the guts to do that,” Rayne looked over her shoulder at Christy with a smirk. “You’ve come a long way since I met you, and I want you to know that you own it all to Whit and me.”
“Sure, whatever,” Christy shrugged her friend’s words off, but inside she glowed at the compliment. “While I’m at it, being bold and everything, you feel like slowing down Kelly? I think you’re gonna break the sound barrier soon if you’re not careful.”
“She’s right, you’re pretty much pushing eighty,” Whitney leaned forward and rested her head on the shoulder of Rayne’s seat to examine the dashboard more closely.
“That’s how we live, Christy. Fast.” Kelly quickly brought Rayne’s fingers to his lips before dropping her hand, clutching the wheel dramatically, and flooring the accelerator.
“Yeah, until we’re all paint on a tree!” Rayne spat, her fingers wrapped tightly around the handle on the door. “Do us all a favor: stop showing off and drive like a sane person.” Her words made Kelly let up on the gas. A bit.
“You’re no fun.”
“If you’re looking for fun, I’m probably not the girl for you then.”
“Maybe, but you’re good in bed.”
“Say that again, Kelly. See what happens. I dare you.”
“Maybe, but you’re good in-”
“Kelly…”
Whitney groaned as she turned to Christy. “You getting sick of them yet?”
“They’re cute,” Christy shrugged, pushing a lock of red hair behind her ear.
“You say that until you’re stuck in a broken elevator with them for three hours,” Whitney countered with a weary smile. “It happened back in high school, and while I love them both, it was pure hell in there. And this was before they got together, so the sexual tension was like, through the roof.”
If there was one thing that could be said for Whitney Vaughn, it was that she had the most genuine smile Christy had ever seen. She was an aspiring model, a fashion major, and so cheerful that she was sometimes thought to be inhuman. There was no denying that she had a temper when provoked at length (as made obvious one night when a barista at the local coffee shop wouldn’t stop making crude passes at her), but even then her anger seemed just. Everything she did, she did from her heart, and that was all anyone could ask from her. Some thought Whitney beautiful, and while her personality did indeed radiate true beauty, Christy had always seen her features to be more striking than anything else. Critically speaking, her eyes were slightly too far apart, her eyebrows were a bit too high and small, and her chin was just a smidge too long. Yet on Whitney Vaughn, all the little imperfections that would’ve looked off on anyone else seemed to work together to create not a beautiful face, but one that you wouldn’t soon forget. Sometimes people would say that Whitney and Christy looked somewhat similar to one another, mostly due to their red hair and similar skin tones. But most of the time, Christy felt like her friend was on an entirely different level of beauty.
“That’s such a pretty necklace!” Whitney’s eyes shone brightly as they swept Christy’s neckline.
“What? Oh, thanks,” she had unconsciously begun to bite her lip, a nervous habit. The car was going way too fast.
“Where’d you get it?”
“Seth.”
“Ooh,” Whitney smiled, her reddish hair falling forward as she leaned down. “A wedding present?”
“Hardly,” Christy rolled her eyes. Seth Burnette was one of the few things she’d held on to from what she sometimes thought of as her “past life.” Seth and Christy ahd practically grown up together, although it wasn’t until their junior year in high school that he ‘grew a pair,’ as Rayne had put it when Christy was recounting her love life for her two new friends, and asked her to be his girlfriend. “He bought it for me a couple days ago.”
“You guys have been going out for three years,” Whitney pointed out, catching the pendant in her hand and struggling to read the inscription without cutting into Christy’s skin with the chain. “It might as well be a wedding present.”
“Yeah, yeah. Here, it’s easier to see when it’s not attached to my neck,” as she spoke, Christy reached back and unhooked the clasp, passing the jewelry to her friend after a small untangling bout with her hair.
“Wow,” Whitney palmed the heart pendant carefully, “I need to get a boyfriend as sweet as Seth, God.”
“Speaking of which…” Christy had pulled a vibrating cell phone from the back pocket of her jeans and flipped it open. “Hello?”
“Chris! Hey, we still on for dinner tomorrow night?” Seth’s voice sent all thoughts of how fast the car was going clear out of her mind.
“Miss dinner with you? Never.” At her side, Whitney raised an eyebrow and held up the necklace that still sat in her palm. Christy shook her head and raised a finger, asking for a moment of privacy. Whitney was happy to oblige, closing her hand around the chain and pendant and shutting her eyes as though attempting to absorb the music playing. Or block out her two still arguing friends in the front seat.
Or both.
“What’re you up to?” Christy’s attention returned to her boyfriend at his question.
“Breaking the law,” she remarked sarcastically, playing with a loose lock of hair.
“Really?”
“Well, breaking the speed limit, anyways.”
“How irresponsible of you.”
“I’m always told that I’m too responsible. Maybe it’s time to change it up.”
“I like your responsibility.”
“I like you,” as she said the words, Christy could practically see Seth grinning, wherever he was.
“I’m touched.” His favorite phrase.
“I know. What’re you doing?”
“Hanging out with Blake and my brother and a couple of his friends.”
“Beer and video games?”
“Basically.”
“I should’ve known. Sounds intellectual.”
“You have no idea.”
“So how’s-”
Screeeeech.
“Kelly! Slow down!” Rayne was yelling. “You almost hit the-”
“I can’t control the car! It’s going too fast, Ray!” Kelly’s eyes were wild as the Jetta suddenly spun out to the right.
Whitney was screaming.
“Christy? Christy, are you okay?” Seth’s voice was in her ear. The car collided with something solid.
“Seth-!” Christy screamed as she was thrown against the car door and pinned in place by Whitney’s unconscious body.
“Christy? Christy?”
Static.
Chapter Two:
April 15th, 2005
The doctors say you’re going to be okay. Thank God. I can barely recognize you, Chris. That’s how banged up you are. I wish I could have a conversation with you, but you’re in a freakin’ coma. I miss your smile. You’ve always been so responsible. I don’t understand how you actually let that Kelly guy drive so damn fast. I mean, you freak out when I go ten miles per hour over the speed limit. But ninety, on a dark highway? I wasn’t lying when I said I liked your responsibility. And now Kelly and Whitney are dead. Rayne’s condition is still undetermined. Maybe I’m being selfish, but the fact that you’re alive is really all I care about.
I miss your laugh.
Love,
Seth
April 19th, 2005
She fought hard, Chris. She really did. And the doctor did everything they could. But she’s gone, Christy. Rayne is gone. And now you’re the only one left. I’m so scared that the doctors are wrong; that you’re not going to make it, just like the rest of them. It’s been four days, and you still haven’t woken up. I don’t know if it means anything while your lying here fighting for your life, but I love you Chris. I always have.
Love,
Seth
April 28th, 2005
I came as soon as the doctors called. You’re awake. Or, you were. Now you’re back to sleeping again. It’s killing me to see you like this Christy, no God awful joke intended. I brought you some soup, but I’m not so sure you’ll like it. You know how bad I am at cooking. I asked the nurse to offer it to you next time you wake up, but its okay if you don’t want to eat it.
They’re holding memorial services for Whitney, Rayne, and Kelly today. All at once, because their parents figured that they would’ve wanted to be remembered together. I’ll take you to their graves when you’re better, Christy. I promise.
I was sitting here with you, and I remembered that day we spent at that park in New Jersey last month. You fell asleep on my shoulder on the drive home. But as soon as I pulled into your apartment complex parking lot, you woke up. It was like you were on a timer or something. I wish you could wake up now. Right this very second.
Or maybe your timer’s not quite ready to go off yet.
I think I’d be a really crappy philosopher.
Love,
Seth
May 2nd, 2005
Your dad just called. He apologized nearly a million times for not coming immediately, but your mom had the flu. Apparently she was throwing up and everything. I know you and your dad fought hard (for literally the first time ever, I swear, you were such a perfect teen) about you leaving for New York, but he sounded completely destroyed. They’ll both be here tomorrow, Christy, your mother and your father. And they’ll make you better soup than I did, I promise.
Thanks for eating mine, by the way. I didn’t think you would.
I feel like I’m talking to myself whenever I write in this journal. I just want you to know that I was here for you the whole time when you wake up. I haven’t been to work in days, I’m getting really behind in my classes, and my rent’s overdue, to be quite honest. But I’m here, Chris. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, even though I know that if you were awake you’d probably scold me for being so irresponsible. Thank God for roommates. Blake paid my share for this month, and most of last month’s too. He made you some cream soup before going to track practice to day, by the way. Said you might want something edible for a change, being my girlfriend and everything. I hope you don’t mind that I accidentally spilled it.
On Blake.
I have to do his laundry for a week as penance, but I think it was worth it this time.
Why don’t you ever wake up when I’m here?
Love,
Seth
May 4th, 2005
Your mom and dad came by today. Actually, they just left. They practically had a breakdown a piece when they saw you, not that I blame them. You’re worth a thousand breakdowns if not more, especially in the condition you’re in. Apparently, in the fifteen minutes that I left the room so your parents could have time alone with you, you actually woke up and called your dad ‘Gabriel.’ He got a little freaked that you mistook him for your grandfather, but I think he’ll get over it. You were asleep again by the time I got back, though. That sucked, I’m not gonna lie.
I can still hardly recognize you, and its hell to watch you struggling so hard to heal. The doctors say you’re making extraordinary progress, but to be quite honest I’m not really seeing it.
Love,
Seth
May 10th, 2005
You opened your eyes today, Christy, and I was there to see it. It was amazing. And it’s funny, because usually your eyes are so blue, but I could’ve sworn that there was green in them when you looked at me. Probably the lighting in the room. I’ve never liked hospitals.
Oh, and the nurse told me that you liked my soup. Christy, you almost died. You don’t have to pretend so my feelings aren’t hurt. Really, my manly ego can take a few blows at this point, especially for you. I promise I’ll get over it.
Love,
Seth
May 15th, 2005
Your parents have been visiting regularly. I thought I should record that, even though I should probably also mention that your dad keeps grumbling about how none of this would’ve happened if you’d stayed in Minnesota and hadn’t met such irresponsible city delinquents. Obviously he’s never had to deal with Dirk and Nathan, those two near kamikaze drag racers, during his time thus far as police chief. Though that’s probably because they were jailed on drug charges when we were five and my brother was eight, before your dad was made head honcho. I think Dirk and Nathan moved away after being released.
You were awake again today, but just barely. When I said your name, you groaned like your head was hurting and whispered something, but I couldn’t hear it. I took your hand, Chris, and you squeezed it softly. I miss holding your hand and taking walks with you. The nurse came in and I asked if she could tell what you were trying to say.
“‘Whitney,’” she told me. “She’s saying ‘Whitney.’ She says it every time we try to interact with her. None of us have had the heart to tell her that Whitney is gone.”
I didn’t either. I still don’t. But I guess you’ll find out eventually. I think I even wrote about it on the first entry in this journal. Maybe I should tell you before I give this to you to read.
Love,
Seth
May 17th, 2005
Apparently, the police called me last night. I was here with you in the hospital, but Blake took a message. They said that they have a bunch of assorted personal belongings of yours that need to be collected. Your purse survived the crash, and I’m told that you were clutching the necklace I gave you nearly a month ago in your fist when the paramedics got to you.
I’m not gonna lie. I’m touched.
You’ve been shifting a lot in your sleep. I placed a hand on your arm, and you seemed to relax. You always did say you felt safe with me, like the world couldn’t get you. The doctor just came in. He’s examining your chart, then looking at you carefully. God, if this guy is some kind of perverted, sick…
He’s asking me if I’ll please step outside the room with him. He looks seriously nervous about something. Oh, God, please tell me everything’s going okay.
Love,
Seth