FicWad

Sophie blinked awake, the early morning sun cascading through the window and spilling on her bed covers. It was nothing special and yet reminded her of Him, and their first time. They had woken up with her head resting on his chest, the light glowing softly on the bed. He had been wonderful during their time together and then afterwards he became so shy, in fact, that he managed to make her bashful, something she never was.

She felt tears stroll leisurely down her cheeks and refused to stop them. He had not called her yet. She was expecting him to call, why hadn’t he already? On the footsteps of those feelings, she wondered why she even expected him to call. He had no obligation to call her daily, weekly, monthly, even annually; it was all his choice. Unless, of course, she was to call him. . .

It suddenly dawned on her that, not even after three years, she never told him the real reason she broke up with him. Past dues must be paid, and soon, no matter how much it hurts. Forgiveness, however, is optional. Should she expect any?

Her eyes rolled over to the digital alarm clock/fm radio that sat contently next to the lamp that sat on the small oak stand. It read in blinking red 11:02 AM. She rubbed the tears off her cheeks and reached for the cell phone that stood guard silently next to the clock. She berated in and out slowly, attempting to calm her slightly irregular breathing and steel herself. So many things might happen. Is she about to put her foot on the road under the fog or find one of those knee-breaking pot holes?

She dialed the number with shaking hands and fingers, speaking quietly to herself to test her voice. It started to ring and she grew deathly quiet. It rang three times until someone picked up, and it was at that point she realized she did not have the slightest idea of what she wanted to say.

“Hello?” The voice asked. It was not him.

“Hello. Did I call the wrong number? Is this Matt’s cell phone?”

“He’s not feeling too good. Can I ask who this is? I’m Bob, his manager.”

“Is he alright? This is Sophie; I really need to talk to him.”

Bob suddenly laughed into the phone, the type of laugh the villain of a movie would use before pouring out reason he killed all those people, or to enlighten the hero about how his struggle was futile from the start. “Sophie Browning? The infamous Sophie Browning. I thought I’d never have the displeasure of talking to you. To answer your question, no, he’s not alright. As a matter of fact, he’s far from alright. Lemme enlighten you a bit as to why, alright? Bear with me here, I’d rather not have to repeat myself. So, this young kid loves this young girl, right? He struggles with himself but finally manages to get over it and asks her out. They hit it off at what at least appears to be a smashing success. He falls, quickly, head over heels in love like a ton of bricks for her, and she claims to have done the same, although it took her a little while longer. It lasts for about two and a half long, glorious years of what was described as pure bliss, and then snapped as quickly and painfully as a leg being hit by a car going about forty miles an hour. The boy and girl both survived the encounter - although the boy had indeed tried to off himself in the process of living in the years afterwards. After three years of attempting to get both their lives back on track, and then they get back in touch. A few days after they get back in touch, the boy - now a young man - finds out something new. Do you want to know what? I’m telling you anyway, I don’t give a fuck what you think. Five months after the break-up, those three long years ago, his ex apparently had a kid. He was never informed of her being pregnant while they were together. On top of never being informed of such a kid, he had come by a picture of her. He realized the girl looked nothing like him. Not even enough for him to fool himself to thinking that it might be his kid. Do you know what he came to realize? That his bitch,” he spat the word into the phone, “of an ex cheated on him. So yesterday, once he found out from a magazine, he decided to get drunk off his ass.”

She was stunned into a momentary silence by the time Bob had finished. No hint of how to respond passed through her brain, no clue on how to do anything, not even breathe; her breath caught in her throat and she felt fresh tears sting her eyes and slip down her cheeks. She never cried, damn it. This was not how it was supposed to work out! This was not how he was supposed to find out about Veversi. This was not right. Welcome to the truth beneath the lies.

“He… he found out? It’s not what you think, I had no choice,” she started, her voice strong, refusing to betray her when she desperately needed to stay in control.

Bob was unrelenting. His friend, one of his best friends, was sleeping away a massive hang-over. If it were not for Mary, he might not even had made it home, and if he had, well, best not to think of those possibilities.

“You had no choice my ass! You had all the choice in the world, you heartless bitch. Is that why you broke up with him in the end? So he wouldn’t notice your lying ass getting fatter? And to think you tried to hid it behind a reason that sounded so just, so honorable. ‘You’re meant for better things.’ You were his life, I doubt it now, but you were his life! And you threw it all away as if none of it mattered. If only everyone knew you, eh? If only everyone knew what you had done.”

You were his life, I doubt it now, the words rang hatefully in her ears like thunder. She’s losing him, again, and this time for good. Closure. After knowing him for a month, loving him for two and a half years and then, finally, secretly missing him and attempting to get over him for three long years, there might finally be an end to it all. The end of the Matt and Sophie saga. Could she ride her way out? Could she let him believe it, hurt him that much worse than she already did three years ago?

Did what she was about to say matter, anyway?

If it will help him move on then yes, she would be the bad guy. She would take the bullet for the team. It won’t hurt too much for too long, will it? Damn it, where are the right choices? Where’s a save point you can come back to in case you fuck up?

“So he finally knows the truth?” She said coldly.

“Oh, you sicken me. Absolutely sicken me. You heartless bitch.”
I didn’t want him to find out this way. I’m sorry it happened how it happened, but it doesn’t change that it happened. I never wanted to hurt him.”

“I can’t believe you. I hope you fucking die.”

“Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid,” she told him nonchalantly before hanging up.

The hum of the empty line broke her. It seemed to tell her that she’s alone, finally alone. Her past is nothing more than dust in the wind, not even a blink of an eye in the history of the world. For the first time in a long, long while, her pride finally momentarily ran out and she showed how hurt she was. How hurt she had been for the past three years. She simply curled into a ball on her bed and cried.



Bob closed Matt’s cell phone with a look of pure disgust upon his face. He glanced at Mary and then at the wall, embarrassed but far from ashamed; he’d do it again if he had the chance. Sophie deserved nothing less.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that, Mary,” Bob apologized.

“Don’t be. I would have been worse, believe me,” Mary told him quietly, looking down at the ground, hiding her smile.

“Don’t let him know she called, alright? He doesn’t need to know this happened.”

“Sure thing, Bob,” she pressed her lips together and pinched her thumb and index finger together, running the tips across her lips to mimic a zipper. Silence. Can she keep a secret? Only time will tell.

He smiled at her. “I haven’t seen that expression in awhile. You’re reminding me how old I am, kiddo. Watch it.”

She has such a sweet little smile, Bob thought. If she sticks around, hopefully Matt will realize the same thing.


She woke up and looked at the time. The clock that hung from her wall read 12:00. Noon. Wakey-wakey, sleepy head. She stretched in her large, comfortable, if somewhat lonely, queen sized bed, letting her thoughts travel.

Of course, our minds have a nasty habit of, when being let off their leash, finding the thoughts we best tend to avoid. Her mind sneakily slipped to thoughts about author-boy and what he said, even thought the memory was two days old.

Okay, so maybe, just maybe, she’s a little obsessed, but come on; the handsome, young, brilliant and talented author is an absolute heart throb. She had reason to be a tad obsessive.

Wonder what he is doing right now, she thought. She still had his cell phone number; he had given it to her when they were scheduling the interview. She wondered whether she should call it. And what to do about that ‘fan’ that ruined her chances? Her features momentarily clouded over at the thought of his ex sneaking on her show and upsetting him so badly.

Just a tad obsessive. Just a tad.


His sleep, which was originally dreamless, suddenly came to life in horrifyingly clear colors. He broke out n a cold sweat and squirmed subconsciously as he dreamed. He was being chased by something as he ran down the fog covered road. He was too afraid to look back, afraid that if what he saw would make him freeze and leave him open to become lunch. It growled and snarled and the best he could do was moan in horror as he ran. He nearly tripped over a bump but he kept his footing.

Finally he came upon a doorway in the middle of the street, standing open, basically beckoning for him. He ran even faster but the beast was still gaining on him. He finally reached the door and was about to pass through it when the door slammed closed in his face. His right arm suddenly felt wet and warm and painful. He looked and saw that the door cut his arm off at the elbow. Blood that jetted out of his arm was swallowed by the hungry mist, Matt could see it. The mist seemed to rise up and catch it in midair; he doubted his blood even touched the ground.

The best from behind him roared and he woke up screaming, “Get the hell away from me, damn it!”

The two were in the room in the room in a second, wide-eyed and worried. They both tried speaking at once but Mary quieted.

“Matt, what’s wrong?” Bob nearly shouted. He seemed to be on edge, slightly drained.

Matt winced at the noise and felt the throb of a migraine behind his eyes. “I’m fine. Bad dream is all. Not so loud, please, Bob? Hang overrrr.”

“That one dream come back?” He asked, quieter.

“No different one this time. The foggy road… there was something behind me … and a door,” the details slipped away from his sluggish mind. He looked down at his arm. The pain had felt so real.

Mary walked to the bed and sat down next to him, running her hand under Matt’s bangs to feel his forehead. “You’re sweating. Are you sure you’re alright, Hun?”

Matt froze at her touch, unable to help it. He completely tensed up, and she noticed. He looked at the wall, embarrassed.

“Bob?” Matt spoke carefully, attempting to hide the affects of Mary’s hand. “I need a drink - flavored water, please? Should be a few in my fridge.”

“Sure, Matt, sure,” Bob told him, eying Mary and then Matt before leaving the room.

“Mary what?” Matt asked quietly, still looking at the wall. Her hand was still on his forehead.

“Obligowsker,” she told him.

“You’ve sent me mail before,” he mumbled, thinking aloud. He felt her hand gently twitch, as if she was surprised.

“You remember that? Hell, you read those? I didn’t think you did.” She felt herself blush.

“I’m not that famous, dearie. Not even close. I get enough to spend a few hours reading letters, but not that much, believe me. Besides your last name, which is definitely not forgettable, I don’t remember any fan that wrote what you wrote, heh,” He turned his head to catch a glimpse of her. She was as red as a tomato.

“I thought you were just like me based off your story. Silly thing to assume based off one fiction story, right? But it looks like I was mostly right. I’m happily surprised as well as horribly concerned.”

“You know what its like?” He asked, curious. Usually when one claimed to know what he was going through, he had a tendency to become very unpleasant, very fast, but here, for some reason, it was different. “I’m sorry, then. It really is terrible, isn’t it? And your mail, heh. Why didn’t we end up doing anything last night, if what you wrote was true?”

She smiled shyly and Matt recognized a slight arousal coarse through him, as if a small shock just ran up his spine. “I’d want you to remember me if anything happened. Plus the whole thing about it being possible rape in the eyes of the law.”

Matt knew very easily where such a conversation could go if he continued it, but the after affects of the alcohol and the incredible hangover he was currently suffering helped dull his wider look on things into a narrow, poorly lit tunnel. He knew well enough about the science behind sex; endorphins were released, dulling nearly all pain while increasing pleasure. It sounded so incredibly relieving right now. He always prided himself on being able to resist sex, though. It held little hold over him as a person, or so he told himself. He knew he had to cut off all thoughts before it was too late.

“You look pretty good in my shirt, dear,” he told her absently.

A knock on his door made them both jolt slightly. He gave her an apologetic look as he silently thanked Bob for his timing.

“Come on in, Bob-bay. Not walking into anything this time,” Matt said, just loud enough for Bob to hear. His head’s painful pounding was constant and he preferred to keep it as low as he could.

Mary looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “This time?”

Bob laughed. “Not what you’re thinking, trust me.”

He handed Matt he water, which he drank very shallowly; his stomach was still a war zone. A few tears slipped down his cheeks, concerning Bob and Mary.

“Life really sucks sometimes,” Matt muttered. “God fucking damn it. That bitch.”

His eyes slipped from Bob’s to Mary’s, looking for something but not sure what and unsure whether he even wanted to see it.

“Forget about her,” Bob told him softly. “You’ve been living in the shadow of you and her for three years now. I think it’s time you finally stepped back into the light. You’re better than her.”

Mary was unsure of what to say in such a situation. She had just met this man who she never dreamed of meeting but always wanted to - and now she’s sitting on his bed at his possible worst. “If you want me to be here, I’ll be, too,” she whispered finally, unsure what else to say. Unsure if she meant it.

“I couldn’t ask that of you, Mary, there‘s a lot of stuff you don‘t know about me - to commit to such a train wreck without knowing is reckless, and I don‘t want to bring anyone else down with me when I get all emotional,” Matt told her, before turning his attention to Bob. “The light, eh, Bob? Not being too melodramatic here, are we?” He attempted to joke and gave him a weak smile.

“Not as melodramatic as you think, kiddo, but, maybe just a little. It’s the acting classes, I swear,” Bob told him.

Matt grinned stronger and then Mary said, “Hunny, the whole point in dating is to find out the stuff no one usually knows.”

He closed his eyes and thought for a little bit. The two shared a concerned glance as a momentary silence bathed the room.

“I should probably take a shower soon, eh?” Matt asked without opening his eyes. “I’m sure I reek of alcohol. Afraid to get up, though.”

Mary got up off his bed and walked over to the doorway where Bob was standing. She planned to give him space to move and doubted she could stop Matt if he ended up stumbling. Bob took her place quickly, standing next to the bed and extending his hand to Matt.

“Up and at ‘em, boy-o,” he said.