Categories > Original > Drama > Shiver
*Chapter 3*
0 reviewsJamie learns of Christian Gray's past, an unsettling, bizarre tragedy that he will never understand. He intertwines his tale with that of a woman Jamie has never met.
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Chapter 3
His breathing was slowing down. This had happened a lot more then it used to and it frightened him into a point of isolation. For more then a week he had been shut out to the world, his friends, and that girl, she had stopped by too. Abruptly he felt the sweat from his forehead drip on to the wound on his hand, causing him to hiss in pain. He'd never understand. How could he really? The end result was always the same; confusion and sheer agony racked his body. Sometimes it was so terrible that he could hardly distinguish his own features.
He suddenly wondered what she had thought of him. She had been so nice to him, so caring. And now what did she see? The empty shell of a man and the beast that resided inside of him. Could she forgive what he had become, even forget what he had done? No, he shook his head solemnly and reached a half-gnarled hand to wrap it around the window sill to pull himself up. An eerie cry issued from him when he felt the muscles in his back crack and he fell against the carpet, groaning.
Using his clean hand he brushed his long brown hair away from his eyes and turned over on his side, knocking over one of the tables in the room, leftover ashes from his cigarette fluttered across the floor and he coughed. She would come back. He knew she would. She would take care of him. She had told him that she loved him. Would that feeling remain? He focused on the fireplace, which lay to the left of him against the darkened wall, and he tried not to think of what was to come. "Please..." he pleaded quietly "don't..." he could feel the spasms start and his body jerked.
He never heard the footsteps. "I was under the impression that begging for your life was one thing you said you'd never do," the other man's voice was soft, dangerous even. He moved with slow, deliberate steps and bent down. "I would have thought that you'd know better after what you had done to that poor girl's family." He smiled lazily.
"I didn't mean to," was his only reply.
"Didn't you?" the gaze he caught was cruel and distant. "Don't you remember what you swore? You promised to hurt, to harm everyone that had wronged you."
"She..." he wheezed, unable to breathe.
"Got in the way, yes. That was your first mistake. You were supposed to go after the parents, and you did. Somehow the girl got in the way, somehow that changed everything."
"Is that why I can't reverse it?" He could hear his voice started to become raspy, snarling, and bitter. "You...did...this. Change me back!" He reached a trembling hand out, the strange hair on his flesh more visible now, and he grabbed the man's shirt and let it go. "I want to come back," he cried. "Please."
"You used to say that you'd do anything for me, didn't you?"
"I won't let you hurt her," his tone was savage.
"She doesn't even know you've come back, does she? You've spent half of your life living a mortal's dream, living in this house away from everyone. Did you see her that day? It was raining when she trudged up the steps, I couldn't figure out if she was lost but she knocked on the door, said she was a cop and that someone had reported a disturbance," he frowned.
"A cop?"
"I needed to still her mind for a moment while I pondered what to do. I could not risk her finding you. Heh. I had to throw her off. So I murdered a young girl. That idiot must have touched her because next thing I knew she was in the hospital." He smiled heinously. "No cure I'm afraid. She'll be dead before she'll ever find me. I promise you. And I never break a promise."
*
Jamie couldn't sleep. He kept having these frightening images, like a horror movie with no plot, invading his once-blissful head. But these weren't the first. He had had a series of flashes, sometimes slow moving pictures in his mind when he was younger. His mother didn't know what to do the day he collapsed at the store when he was 16. His parents brought him to the hospital. There had been, in the bed next to his own, a girl around his age slumbering quietly, her long brown hair covering her face. He remembered that she had been there when he arrived, her body was trembling until someone had stuck the needle in her arm and she stilled.
He looked at the girl beside him and his eyes widened; she lay with her hands resting across her stomach, her head towards him, and her long hair over her face. "Sarah," he smiled, almost laughed as he touched her hand. "they said they don't know what's wrong with you, but you have to get better. People need you." He recalled Detective Delaney's words: You're living in a fantasy realm. Her job is more important then you. Everything she does is not for you, it's for her, because she knows with this she can make it, she can be worth something. "Detective Delaney came by before but I sent him away. He shouldn't have come near you in the first place. He doesn't understand. He can't ever understand who you are."
"He can't because you won't let him," Jamie blinked and turned his head towards the door, his lip curled slightly. Her partner stood leaning against the doorjamb, his dark eyes hesitant as they roamed over Sarah.
"Excuse me?" He stood abruptly, his chair toppling to the floor as he did so. He stepped around the edge of the bed until he came close to the other man. "Who are you, anyway?" he snapped irritably.
"I'm the one who watches her when you can't." He replied earnestly. "The name's Gray. Christian Gray. And you must be the elusive Jamie that Sarah goes on endless about. How touching." He smiled cruelly. "Don't you ever think that you're the only one who cares for her."
"He said that you...and I didn't believe him...how could I? How could she?" His body felt weighed down suddenly. He swallowed. "She said she'd never..."
"She's a good little actress," he smirked and leaned forward "just like her mother."
"What did you say?"
"Oh, she never told you? Her mother, Emily, well, she was murdered awhile back and it looks like someone's after Sarah now. To recreate history, you know."
"What's that got to do with-" Jamie started.
"You're very impatient, aren't you? Emily had known for some time that she was a target, I don't know how, bet Sarah does though. Anyway it was a rainy night when someone found her; she'd been raped and strangled. From what I was told, Sarah and her mother were very close, and very happy. But her daughter's world came crashing down when two policemen showed up at the Beck's estate. Sarah was only thirteen when it happened. Emily lived in a reality where she ran the show, called the shots, determined if she was to die or not. She had power."
"What kind of 'power' do you mean?" Jamie's eyes widened slowly and he sat at the edge of Sarah's bed. He mindlessly wrung his hands together, keeping a watchful eye on Christian.
"She was psychic." he replied, frowning.
Jamie had the good sense to run the word and its definition over in his mind several times before he spoke. "Psychic...so..."
"That's right." Christian smirked. "Sarah has inherited her mother's ability. It's already caused her too much stress. She's been in and out of hospitals for years due to it. Of course those doctors thought it was just flu-related. I've never trusted them, it's difficult to when you see someone you love dying in on that table and only you know why, but you can't say anything for fear of sounding crazed. So you just watch." He frowned suddenly, and Jamie could see the mask slipping, the anguish noticable. "And you wait until the end."
"Who did you see die?" His voice was low, he didn't want to disturb Sarah's sleep.
"It was..." Christian's eyes glazed over. "...it was me."
His breathing was slowing down. This had happened a lot more then it used to and it frightened him into a point of isolation. For more then a week he had been shut out to the world, his friends, and that girl, she had stopped by too. Abruptly he felt the sweat from his forehead drip on to the wound on his hand, causing him to hiss in pain. He'd never understand. How could he really? The end result was always the same; confusion and sheer agony racked his body. Sometimes it was so terrible that he could hardly distinguish his own features.
He suddenly wondered what she had thought of him. She had been so nice to him, so caring. And now what did she see? The empty shell of a man and the beast that resided inside of him. Could she forgive what he had become, even forget what he had done? No, he shook his head solemnly and reached a half-gnarled hand to wrap it around the window sill to pull himself up. An eerie cry issued from him when he felt the muscles in his back crack and he fell against the carpet, groaning.
Using his clean hand he brushed his long brown hair away from his eyes and turned over on his side, knocking over one of the tables in the room, leftover ashes from his cigarette fluttered across the floor and he coughed. She would come back. He knew she would. She would take care of him. She had told him that she loved him. Would that feeling remain? He focused on the fireplace, which lay to the left of him against the darkened wall, and he tried not to think of what was to come. "Please..." he pleaded quietly "don't..." he could feel the spasms start and his body jerked.
He never heard the footsteps. "I was under the impression that begging for your life was one thing you said you'd never do," the other man's voice was soft, dangerous even. He moved with slow, deliberate steps and bent down. "I would have thought that you'd know better after what you had done to that poor girl's family." He smiled lazily.
"I didn't mean to," was his only reply.
"Didn't you?" the gaze he caught was cruel and distant. "Don't you remember what you swore? You promised to hurt, to harm everyone that had wronged you."
"She..." he wheezed, unable to breathe.
"Got in the way, yes. That was your first mistake. You were supposed to go after the parents, and you did. Somehow the girl got in the way, somehow that changed everything."
"Is that why I can't reverse it?" He could hear his voice started to become raspy, snarling, and bitter. "You...did...this. Change me back!" He reached a trembling hand out, the strange hair on his flesh more visible now, and he grabbed the man's shirt and let it go. "I want to come back," he cried. "Please."
"You used to say that you'd do anything for me, didn't you?"
"I won't let you hurt her," his tone was savage.
"She doesn't even know you've come back, does she? You've spent half of your life living a mortal's dream, living in this house away from everyone. Did you see her that day? It was raining when she trudged up the steps, I couldn't figure out if she was lost but she knocked on the door, said she was a cop and that someone had reported a disturbance," he frowned.
"A cop?"
"I needed to still her mind for a moment while I pondered what to do. I could not risk her finding you. Heh. I had to throw her off. So I murdered a young girl. That idiot must have touched her because next thing I knew she was in the hospital." He smiled heinously. "No cure I'm afraid. She'll be dead before she'll ever find me. I promise you. And I never break a promise."
*
Jamie couldn't sleep. He kept having these frightening images, like a horror movie with no plot, invading his once-blissful head. But these weren't the first. He had had a series of flashes, sometimes slow moving pictures in his mind when he was younger. His mother didn't know what to do the day he collapsed at the store when he was 16. His parents brought him to the hospital. There had been, in the bed next to his own, a girl around his age slumbering quietly, her long brown hair covering her face. He remembered that she had been there when he arrived, her body was trembling until someone had stuck the needle in her arm and she stilled.
He looked at the girl beside him and his eyes widened; she lay with her hands resting across her stomach, her head towards him, and her long hair over her face. "Sarah," he smiled, almost laughed as he touched her hand. "they said they don't know what's wrong with you, but you have to get better. People need you." He recalled Detective Delaney's words: You're living in a fantasy realm. Her job is more important then you. Everything she does is not for you, it's for her, because she knows with this she can make it, she can be worth something. "Detective Delaney came by before but I sent him away. He shouldn't have come near you in the first place. He doesn't understand. He can't ever understand who you are."
"He can't because you won't let him," Jamie blinked and turned his head towards the door, his lip curled slightly. Her partner stood leaning against the doorjamb, his dark eyes hesitant as they roamed over Sarah.
"Excuse me?" He stood abruptly, his chair toppling to the floor as he did so. He stepped around the edge of the bed until he came close to the other man. "Who are you, anyway?" he snapped irritably.
"I'm the one who watches her when you can't." He replied earnestly. "The name's Gray. Christian Gray. And you must be the elusive Jamie that Sarah goes on endless about. How touching." He smiled cruelly. "Don't you ever think that you're the only one who cares for her."
"He said that you...and I didn't believe him...how could I? How could she?" His body felt weighed down suddenly. He swallowed. "She said she'd never..."
"She's a good little actress," he smirked and leaned forward "just like her mother."
"What did you say?"
"Oh, she never told you? Her mother, Emily, well, she was murdered awhile back and it looks like someone's after Sarah now. To recreate history, you know."
"What's that got to do with-" Jamie started.
"You're very impatient, aren't you? Emily had known for some time that she was a target, I don't know how, bet Sarah does though. Anyway it was a rainy night when someone found her; she'd been raped and strangled. From what I was told, Sarah and her mother were very close, and very happy. But her daughter's world came crashing down when two policemen showed up at the Beck's estate. Sarah was only thirteen when it happened. Emily lived in a reality where she ran the show, called the shots, determined if she was to die or not. She had power."
"What kind of 'power' do you mean?" Jamie's eyes widened slowly and he sat at the edge of Sarah's bed. He mindlessly wrung his hands together, keeping a watchful eye on Christian.
"She was psychic." he replied, frowning.
Jamie had the good sense to run the word and its definition over in his mind several times before he spoke. "Psychic...so..."
"That's right." Christian smirked. "Sarah has inherited her mother's ability. It's already caused her too much stress. She's been in and out of hospitals for years due to it. Of course those doctors thought it was just flu-related. I've never trusted them, it's difficult to when you see someone you love dying in on that table and only you know why, but you can't say anything for fear of sounding crazed. So you just watch." He frowned suddenly, and Jamie could see the mask slipping, the anguish noticable. "And you wait until the end."
"Who did you see die?" His voice was low, he didn't want to disturb Sarah's sleep.
"It was..." Christian's eyes glazed over. "...it was me."
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