shutter island fic!let: there are demons behind the curtains;
shutter island fic!let: there are demons behind the curtains;
pg-13 for strong language;
627 words;
edward daniels/’teddy’;
major spoilers for movie (don’t read even if you’ve only seen part of it! :D)
there’s an insect crawling across teddy’s skull.
a heartbeat races as the white men walk with him down the sidewalk into the car. all around him, patients are walking, quietly working- shrubbery, goddamn shrubbery. had he cut those leaves once too? had he washed the dishes, taken the goddamn drugs for christ-
a hand gently leads him to the car, and he turns, neck muscles straining, just to see his partner’s confused look. doubt clouds his eyes, and yet he feels calm. there is no end, no beginning. there is nothing but this void emptiness, her blonde hair, his kids, kids he had denied, how the fuck did he not remember? there was so much time, and it was all lost because of some stupid roleplay. he was a marshall, he was teddy, he was laeddis. the thoughts are rock, crammed inside this skull, jostling and jostling and fuck, he can’t keep his hands still.
but it’ll all be over soon. the shine of the sun will be blighted, the dried leaves crumbled, the stuffed air sunk into cold. as his legs drag across the hard gravel, he closes his eyes and tries to think clearly for once. there was no partner. there was no chuck, no solando, no missing patient, nothing. inevitable fate had clutched him, rattled him, and now it had trodden all over him. this is a fantasy that has eluded reality. because edward daniels is a myth, an illusion and right now, him walking, him getting into the car, the white patients- all of this is real. it is inescapable. he cannot elude from past, or the brutal reality. this is all just-
he doesn’t really know what to think anymore. laeddis laeddis laeddis is chant in his head, the tick of time, the rhythm of his heartbeat. it grows so loud and it won’t get out of his goddamn head. the pain, the trembling, and it was his gun, it was his and it was melted and became fake, became plastic became nothing he killed her, he had killed her and how did this work out like this rachel fucking solando, what was this delusion?
“laeddis. we’re going to get going, right away.”
he feels gloves grab him and he is elusive, he is- he is no one. footsteps shatter the frigid silence as they travel up the rusted stairs slowly, toward the top of the lighthouse. outside the waves crash against the rocks, and he wonders if his children felt that oppressive coldness, just like he did in those murky waters, illuminating shattered hopes. but it was all his fault. he was a monster. a monster that deserved to be eradicated. that’s why, he had chosen this, just for her, for them, so they can all just die in peace. let it all be buried. is he a coward? is he selfish? who judges this?
but beyond thought, beyond illusion, there is a noncommittal jerk of reality. there is nothing to say, nothing to judge. what is, is. and what happens is known, because when the door opens, and when he is strapped down into the brown leather chair, purple fingers fucking convulsing- clutching at nothing, the syringe piercing his flesh, the sleep that drowns him in a numb emptiness, it doesn’t matter who laeddis is, what edward was, or what happened on this goddamn island. he will be no one. he will be calm, and he will float on islands, surrounded by peace, no guilt. he will be patient 67 of the shutter island mental institute. he will be finished.
there’s an insect crawling across teddy’s skull. but as soon as the needle enters the eye socket, it crawls away and bursts into flame, briefly lighting up an empty world.
fin.
pg-13 for strong language;
627 words;
edward daniels/’teddy’;
major spoilers for movie (don’t read even if you’ve only seen part of it! :D)
there’s an insect crawling across teddy’s skull.
a heartbeat races as the white men walk with him down the sidewalk into the car. all around him, patients are walking, quietly working- shrubbery, goddamn shrubbery. had he cut those leaves once too? had he washed the dishes, taken the goddamn drugs for christ-
a hand gently leads him to the car, and he turns, neck muscles straining, just to see his partner’s confused look. doubt clouds his eyes, and yet he feels calm. there is no end, no beginning. there is nothing but this void emptiness, her blonde hair, his kids, kids he had denied, how the fuck did he not remember? there was so much time, and it was all lost because of some stupid roleplay. he was a marshall, he was teddy, he was laeddis. the thoughts are rock, crammed inside this skull, jostling and jostling and fuck, he can’t keep his hands still.
but it’ll all be over soon. the shine of the sun will be blighted, the dried leaves crumbled, the stuffed air sunk into cold. as his legs drag across the hard gravel, he closes his eyes and tries to think clearly for once. there was no partner. there was no chuck, no solando, no missing patient, nothing. inevitable fate had clutched him, rattled him, and now it had trodden all over him. this is a fantasy that has eluded reality. because edward daniels is a myth, an illusion and right now, him walking, him getting into the car, the white patients- all of this is real. it is inescapable. he cannot elude from past, or the brutal reality. this is all just-
he doesn’t really know what to think anymore. laeddis laeddis laeddis is chant in his head, the tick of time, the rhythm of his heartbeat. it grows so loud and it won’t get out of his goddamn head. the pain, the trembling, and it was his gun, it was his and it was melted and became fake, became plastic became nothing he killed her, he had killed her and how did this work out like this rachel fucking solando, what was this delusion?
“laeddis. we’re going to get going, right away.”
he feels gloves grab him and he is elusive, he is- he is no one. footsteps shatter the frigid silence as they travel up the rusted stairs slowly, toward the top of the lighthouse. outside the waves crash against the rocks, and he wonders if his children felt that oppressive coldness, just like he did in those murky waters, illuminating shattered hopes. but it was all his fault. he was a monster. a monster that deserved to be eradicated. that’s why, he had chosen this, just for her, for them, so they can all just die in peace. let it all be buried. is he a coward? is he selfish? who judges this?
but beyond thought, beyond illusion, there is a noncommittal jerk of reality. there is nothing to say, nothing to judge. what is, is. and what happens is known, because when the door opens, and when he is strapped down into the brown leather chair, purple fingers fucking convulsing- clutching at nothing, the syringe piercing his flesh, the sleep that drowns him in a numb emptiness, it doesn’t matter who laeddis is, what edward was, or what happened on this goddamn island. he will be no one. he will be calm, and he will float on islands, surrounded by peace, no guilt. he will be patient 67 of the shutter island mental institute. he will be finished.
there’s an insect crawling across teddy’s skull. but as soon as the needle enters the eye socket, it crawls away and bursts into flame, briefly lighting up an empty world.
fin.