The Heart Heals Itself - Chapter 5
Title: The Heart Heals Itself
Pairing: Matt Sanders/James Hart, possibly slight Matt/Zack Baker
Author: Vickslovesslash and Rachael (non-LJ user)
Rating: Overall NC-17
Warnings: Mental instability and Matt being an arsehole.
Summary: Matt's bad attitude changes his life forever.
Author's Notes: Here's the next one, enjoy! All comments appreciated :)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 5- What it’s like to be alone
Complete and utter darkness. No one actually knows what it means. Until this happens. Until your world is plunged into it. My world now is complete, unending, intolerable darkness. Since the doctors told me that I would never see again; that this was going to be my life until the day I died I considered making that moment come a lot sooner than nature intended. But then I felt it swelling; the rage, the anger and the hurt and I knew I would never do it. I wouldn’t give the world the satisfaction of knowing that I’m completely broken. Instead I’ve chosen to unleash myself on the world. Scarred, angry, out for vengeance. Haner thought he was stopping me. Instead he’s just created something much worse. A monster. A hideous, deformed shadow of a man.
I used to think that I had it all, that I had the perfect life and that no one would ever have the guts to take it away from me. But when they say that life will always kick you when you’re down they’re not wrong. Now I’m laughable. A cripple. They would pity anyone else. However, I’m not anyone else. I’m Matt Sanders, grade A bastard and all the people whom I used to terrorise get some sort of sick pleasure out of seeing me like this and knowing that I can’t see anything that they choose to direct at me. I am impenetrable to their harm because I cannot see it but that makes it all the more humiliating. I cannot fight back. I’m weak. I have never been weak. The feeling of desolation that comes with it is almost unbearable.
They fired me today. Their excuse was that they felt I was now inappropriate for the position. I have to relearn everything that I have ever known. I can’t read. I can’t analyse the look on someone’s face and use it to my advantage. I can’t smile with satisfaction as I watch someone squirm beneath my gaze. All I can do is hide in this perpetual darkness.
They’ve given me a stick. One of those pathetic white sticks that is supposed to help me manoeuvre like a normal person. It doesn’t work. I’m sure if I could see myself I would grimace at the amount of bruises I have accumulated from falling. No one really thinks about what being blind means. What you have to learn to do completely differently from the way you know. I can’t walk. Something that I always took for granted. I can’t tell what things are. But I haven’t yet assimilated. I picked up a book from my shelf the other day, out of instinct and it wasn’t until I sat down that I realised that I couldn’t read it. And I cried. I sank to my knees, placed my head in my hands against the carpet and cried like I had never cried before. I thought I was releasing all of the pain and the anger. But I was wrong. It made things worse. I felt pathetic. I hated myself. I hit myself. Threw myself into walls. Knocked myself unconscious. That’s why I’m here. Back in the hospital.
I notice smells more now. The antiseptic, the floor cleaner, the rank and fetid stench of death that undercuts it all. The nurse who brought me my dinner was wearing the perfume that my mother used to wear and I found myself receding into my memories. Going back to a time when I could see. When I was happy. When I had no reason to feel alone. I remembered the sounds of her making breakfast downstairs, the way she smelled after she’d been baking, but mostly the way she looked at me every night before she tucked me in. Her soft, fragrant hair falling on my face, tickling it. Her head illuminated by the soft lighting like a halo. She looked like an angel.
The other memories came to me. My father screaming. My mother falling to the floor. The blood, the glass, the same stench of death that I could smell now. I remembered the night my father murdered my mother. And I screamed.
*2 days later*
I was sat in the common room, staring straight ahead, not seeing anything when I felt a presence beside me and my body tensed.
“You’re the screamer, the one they keep sedating,” a soft and lilting voice, laced with a slight lisp intoned as the sofa dipped beside me. “They must be some fucking awful nightmares to make you scream like that. But that’s what we do isn’t it. We can’t see the real world so we live in our minds and our memories.” There was a shift on the sofa and I realised that this stranger was waiting for me to acknowledge him.
“Why don’t you just fuck off,” I spat “you don’t know anything about me. You don’t know what it’s like to be me.” I turned away and rested my chin on my hand, hoping that the stranger would go away.
“I do actually. You’re not the only person who’s lost their sight you know. You don’t get dibs on all of the hurt that comes with it so stop acting like a dick and actually be friendly.” Although his voice sounded annoyed I could hear traces of amusement in it and that just made me even more angry.
“Are you fucking laughing at me you fucking moron?!” I screeched and turned, taking a swing, losing my balance and falling off the sofa and to the floor. He laughed and I felt my face flush a deep red.
“Fuck off!” I screamed and reached out, grabbing a throat, any throat, not caring if it was his or not. I heard frantic activity and two pairs of strong arms grabbed me and began to pull me away as I kicked and cried out to be released. As I was dragged out of the common room I heard that lilting laugh again and his words drifted after me.
“Better luck next time big guy. If you wanna know who to attack just ask for Zack Baker. I’ll find you.” I let out a growl as I was dumped back onto my bed. Alright Zack fucking Baker. It’s on.
Pairing: Matt Sanders/James Hart, possibly slight Matt/Zack Baker
Author: Vickslovesslash and Rachael (non-LJ user)
Rating: Overall NC-17
Warnings: Mental instability and Matt being an arsehole.
Summary: Matt's bad attitude changes his life forever.
Author's Notes: Here's the next one, enjoy! All comments appreciated :)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 5- What it’s like to be alone
Complete and utter darkness. No one actually knows what it means. Until this happens. Until your world is plunged into it. My world now is complete, unending, intolerable darkness. Since the doctors told me that I would never see again; that this was going to be my life until the day I died I considered making that moment come a lot sooner than nature intended. But then I felt it swelling; the rage, the anger and the hurt and I knew I would never do it. I wouldn’t give the world the satisfaction of knowing that I’m completely broken. Instead I’ve chosen to unleash myself on the world. Scarred, angry, out for vengeance. Haner thought he was stopping me. Instead he’s just created something much worse. A monster. A hideous, deformed shadow of a man.
I used to think that I had it all, that I had the perfect life and that no one would ever have the guts to take it away from me. But when they say that life will always kick you when you’re down they’re not wrong. Now I’m laughable. A cripple. They would pity anyone else. However, I’m not anyone else. I’m Matt Sanders, grade A bastard and all the people whom I used to terrorise get some sort of sick pleasure out of seeing me like this and knowing that I can’t see anything that they choose to direct at me. I am impenetrable to their harm because I cannot see it but that makes it all the more humiliating. I cannot fight back. I’m weak. I have never been weak. The feeling of desolation that comes with it is almost unbearable.
They fired me today. Their excuse was that they felt I was now inappropriate for the position. I have to relearn everything that I have ever known. I can’t read. I can’t analyse the look on someone’s face and use it to my advantage. I can’t smile with satisfaction as I watch someone squirm beneath my gaze. All I can do is hide in this perpetual darkness.
They’ve given me a stick. One of those pathetic white sticks that is supposed to help me manoeuvre like a normal person. It doesn’t work. I’m sure if I could see myself I would grimace at the amount of bruises I have accumulated from falling. No one really thinks about what being blind means. What you have to learn to do completely differently from the way you know. I can’t walk. Something that I always took for granted. I can’t tell what things are. But I haven’t yet assimilated. I picked up a book from my shelf the other day, out of instinct and it wasn’t until I sat down that I realised that I couldn’t read it. And I cried. I sank to my knees, placed my head in my hands against the carpet and cried like I had never cried before. I thought I was releasing all of the pain and the anger. But I was wrong. It made things worse. I felt pathetic. I hated myself. I hit myself. Threw myself into walls. Knocked myself unconscious. That’s why I’m here. Back in the hospital.
I notice smells more now. The antiseptic, the floor cleaner, the rank and fetid stench of death that undercuts it all. The nurse who brought me my dinner was wearing the perfume that my mother used to wear and I found myself receding into my memories. Going back to a time when I could see. When I was happy. When I had no reason to feel alone. I remembered the sounds of her making breakfast downstairs, the way she smelled after she’d been baking, but mostly the way she looked at me every night before she tucked me in. Her soft, fragrant hair falling on my face, tickling it. Her head illuminated by the soft lighting like a halo. She looked like an angel.
The other memories came to me. My father screaming. My mother falling to the floor. The blood, the glass, the same stench of death that I could smell now. I remembered the night my father murdered my mother. And I screamed.
*2 days later*
I was sat in the common room, staring straight ahead, not seeing anything when I felt a presence beside me and my body tensed.
“You’re the screamer, the one they keep sedating,” a soft and lilting voice, laced with a slight lisp intoned as the sofa dipped beside me. “They must be some fucking awful nightmares to make you scream like that. But that’s what we do isn’t it. We can’t see the real world so we live in our minds and our memories.” There was a shift on the sofa and I realised that this stranger was waiting for me to acknowledge him.
“Why don’t you just fuck off,” I spat “you don’t know anything about me. You don’t know what it’s like to be me.” I turned away and rested my chin on my hand, hoping that the stranger would go away.
“I do actually. You’re not the only person who’s lost their sight you know. You don’t get dibs on all of the hurt that comes with it so stop acting like a dick and actually be friendly.” Although his voice sounded annoyed I could hear traces of amusement in it and that just made me even more angry.
“Are you fucking laughing at me you fucking moron?!” I screeched and turned, taking a swing, losing my balance and falling off the sofa and to the floor. He laughed and I felt my face flush a deep red.
“Fuck off!” I screamed and reached out, grabbing a throat, any throat, not caring if it was his or not. I heard frantic activity and two pairs of strong arms grabbed me and began to pull me away as I kicked and cried out to be released. As I was dragged out of the common room I heard that lilting laugh again and his words drifted after me.
“Better luck next time big guy. If you wanna know who to attack just ask for Zack Baker. I’ll find you.” I let out a growl as I was dumped back onto my bed. Alright Zack fucking Baker. It’s on.