Chapter 33
AN: Thanks to Mary for the idea for
this entire chapter!
A cry of surprise escaped his throat
as he stumbled. His arms flailed wildly
in front of him as he tumbled forward, desperately reaching for something to
break his fall. His fingertips felt
nothing but air, then liquid, as he landed with a splash, his body striking
something hard beneath a layer of water.
In the distance, he could hear
laughter. But he didn’t have time to
dwell on it. Grunting in pain and
discomfort, he lay flat for a moment, feeling the cold liquid rapidly soak his
clothes and seep into his skin.
He lifted his head just in time to
catch something small and black skirt past him out of the corner of his
eye. Flinching, he reached his hands out
and, planting his palms firmly against the hard surface beneath him, used them
to push himself up. He rose awkwardly out
of the water, his water-laden shirt weighing him down, and struggled to find
his balance on one knee.
Then he looked down… and let out a
yelp of fear. Instantly, he scrambled
backwards, out of the water. He toppled
over onto the hard pavement and felt the skin being scraped from his
elbow. He hardly felt the pain though,
too concerned with pulling himself off of the ground. He climbed back to his knee and peered down
at the large puddle into which he had fallen, his eyes bugging with horror.
“1, 2… 3, 4, 5…” he began to count
them, his eyes flicking every which way, as more of them rose from the swirling
depths to float atop the muddy water, their stingers arched dangerously over
their backs. “6, 7, 8…” He shook his head, his body trembling as he
looked on, awestruck. “9… 10, 11… 12…
13.”
He waited a moment, but no more
came. “Thirteen,” he repeated.
Thirteen scorpions.
The puddle was filled with them,
floating lazily on the surface of the dirty water. Narrowing his eyes vigilantly, he could make
out smaller creatures darting and wriggling through the swirls of upset
mud. Worms, he thought at first. Then one crawled out of the puddle and
started to work its way across the faded gray pavement.
No… centipedes, he realized, drawing
back in disgust. He dragged himself out
of the way, the hard street skinning his knee as he struggled to move. Even once he was a safe distance from the
puddle, which was still teaming with scorpions and centipedes, he could feel
them crawling on his skin. A shudder ran
through his entire body, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get rid of
the sensation. But it only increased, a
light pinching feeling on his stomach turning sharp and painful. His eyes flying open, he yanked up his shirt
and let out a shout.
A leech… clinging to his skin…
He tore it off quickly, his skin
stinging where it had been attached, his fingertips slimy from touching
it. He shuddered again, wiping them on
his wet, muddy shirt.
Desperate to get away from this place,
he looked around, searching for his crutches.
He spotted them lying a few feet away and dragged himself toward
them. Gratefully wrapping his fingers
around the cold metal, he used one crutch to boost him off the ground, then
bent down to retrieve the other. He
adjusted them under his arms and then looked up. Where was he?
He was on a road, he realized, a long
stretch of road that went on as far as the eye could see, eventually melting
into the horizon. He turned and saw that
it was the same on the other side, a vast nothingness divided only by this
solitary road. Only here, there were
people. Lots of people, lined on both
sides. Maybe they could tell him which
direction to go.
Gripping the handles of his crutches,
he hobbled toward them, carefully avoiding the infested puddle he had fallen
into earlier.
“Hey!” he called to the cluster of
people ahead. “Can you help me?”
All eyes turned to him, but no one
responded. Instead, they just stared,
the loathing expressions on their faces becoming clearer as he neared them.
He felt his heartbeat quicken and his
palms begin to sweat. Tightening his
grip on the crutches, he hesitantly boosted himself forward, searching the
crowd for a friendly face. “P-please,”
he stammered unsurely, “I don’t know where I am. Can someone help me?”
But they only stared.
He quickened his pace, eager to get
past them. Someone down the line would
help him… they had to!
As he passed the strangers by, he saw
their heads turn out of the corners of his eyes. And then he heard their whispers.
“Look…”
Look…”
“Look at him…”
“Look…”
“Just
look at him…”
Their voices seemed to echo all around
him, a neverending chorus that gradually crescendoed as the words took form.
“He’s disgusting…”
“I can’t even look at him…”
“He used to be so hot…”
“And now
he’s a freak…”
“A freak…”
“Stop,” he pleaded in a whisper,
wishing he could cover his ears.
“Please,” his voice rose, “please stop!”
Desperate to get away, he hurried
along at a frantic pace, trying to tune out the hiss of their hurtful
words. The anonymous faces began to
blend together as he hauled himself along, his arms aching. And then, up ahead of him, one face jumped
out at him through the crowd. A familiar
face, one he had known for twenty-five years…
“Mom?”
Flooded with relief at the sight of
someone he knew, he veered in her direction.
She would help him; she would get him out of there and take him home.
Her eyes followed him as he
approached, never blinking, never straying from his lopsided form as he
struggled toward her.
“Mom,” he gasped breathlessly. “Mom, I-“
“What have you done to yourself,
Nicky?” Jane asked, her voice stony and hushed.
She shook her head solemnly, her mouth pressed into a firm line. “What have you done?”
“What?
What do you mean?” Nick cried, his voice shrill in his ears. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve ruined yourself,” she
said. “You’re ruined.”
Hot tears sprung to his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he ducked his head and
turned away, hobbling on down the road, the eyes still following him. The sea of faces seemed endless, but every
now and then, he would recognize a face.
But never a friendly one.
Leah.
“You think I want you now, Nick?
Think again. No one will ever
want you now.”
Lou Pearlman. “You’ve really lost it, haven’t you,
Nick? What a shame… what a shame…”
He turned away, his face hot, his eyes
stinging.
He couldn’t go on. He couldn’t take another step. He couldn’t take anymore of this.
Stopping, he let his crutches fall and
sank to the hard, cold ground, tucking his leg beneath him. “Please,” he moaned, bowing his head and
pressing his hands firmly against his ears as the chorus of voices continued
their hateful chants. “Please stop…”
Above the muted chanting, one voice
rang out clearly. “Nick!”
“Leave me alone,” he pleaded, closing
his eyes.
“Nick!
Open your eyes, Nick!”
“Nick!”
His eyes
flew open and immediately focused on Claire’s face, which was hovering over
him, her eyes wide with panic.
“Nick… are
you awake?”
“I’m
awake,” he murmured, realizing he was in his own bed. “I just had a dream… a nightmare…”
“I heard
something. Something loud – like a
crash. Did you hear it?”
“Huh? A crash?”
“It sounded
like it was coming from the front hall,” Claire continued, her voice
hushed. “What if someone broke in?”
“No, no,
that’s impossible,” he muttered, still trying to clear his head of the images
from his dream. “The security alarm…
we’d know.”
“But I
heard some-“ she started and then froze, her body tensing visibly.
“What-?” he
started to ask, but she shoved her hand over his mouth, silencing him.
“Shh…
listen,” she whispered, her eyes wide.
“Can you hear that?”
He
listened, straining his ears. And then,
he heard it. Muffled sounds… shuffling…
footsteps?
“I’m gonna
go check it out,” Claire said suddenly, dropping her hand from his mouth and
rolling off her side of the bed.
“Claire,
wait!” Nick hissed, but she held up a finger, shushing him, and went ahead
anyway, slowly and silently easing the bedroom door open before he could stop
her. “Are you insane?!” he mouthed after
her, scrambling out of bed. He grabbed
his crutches, tucked them quickly under his arms, and took off after her,
nimbly thrusting himself forward.
Then he
heard her scream.
It was a
high-pitched, bloodcurdling scream, the kind you only heard in a horror movie,
and it caused his heart to skip a beat.
Instantly, he froze, unable to move, unable to even breathe.
He’d never
heard her make a sound like that before.
His whole
body began to shake, and his knee buckled.
If it had not been for the crutches he clung to, white-knuckled, he
would have collapsed. For a second, he
almost did, his weight hanging solely on the crutches, which wobbled beneath
him, threatening to fly out from under him.
Finally, he regained his senses and steadied himself, letting out the
breath he’d been holding in a great whoosh.
She needs me, was the only thing he could
think. I have to get to her.
Not even
considering the horrors might be awaiting him, he flung his crutches forward
and swung his body after, moving as fast as he could to get to her. He pushed his way through the bedroom door
and toward the front hall. And there, he
froze again, stricken by the sight with which he was met.
A man,
clothed in solid black, stood in the corner of the hall, near the front door,
his thick arm around Claire’s neck.
Something gleamed near her ear, and he realized it was the tip of a
large knife. The blade was against the
side of her neck.
“Don’t
move, or I’ll cut her throat,” the intruder threatened in a gruff, menacing
voice.
Nick wasn’t
sure he could have moved if he’d wanted to.
Terror coursed through his veins faster than the blood pumped by his
racing heart, which pounded erratically against his ribcage. His eyes locked with Claire’s, which were filled
with utter dread. His mouth opened, but
no words came out. She, however,
suddenly let out a shriek.
“Nick, watch
out!!”
Out of
nowhere, another dark-clad figure darted forward, catching Nick off-guard. In an instant, he was hurtling to the side,
his hold on his crutches gone. He hit
the wall and slid down it, ending up in a heap on the cold, tiled floor. Just as quickly, he boosted himself back up
to his one knee and tried to stand, but the second man was right there. He saw a glint of metal, something large and
long, but before he had time to register or react, the object came smacking
into his stomach, delivering him a crushing blow. He collapsed again, his head hitting the wall
as he fell backward, clutching his middle in agony.
For a few
seconds, he writhed on the floor, momentarily debilitated. Through the sound of blood rushing in his
ears, he heard Claire scream again. No
words this time, just another bloodcurdling scream. He lifted his head in a panic, trying to get
his blurred vision to clear. It did,
just in time to see one of his crutches come flying down at him again. He gasped and choked and listened to Claire
scream as he was beaten again and again.
As his body
was ravaged, his mind began to race, a voice deep inside him screaming, Get
up! Fight back! Fight for her; she needs you!! Between the crushing blows, he struggled to
move, to get up, to defend himself. He
got to his knee, only to be knocked back down.
I can’t, came the wretched realization. I can’t…
The man delivered
a final blow, and, surrendering, his body collapsed. Lying flat on the floor, he let his head
fall. Darkness was closing in, and he
felt himself slipping away, unable to focus on what was happening any
longer. The last thing he was aware of,
as his eyelids drooped, was the sound of Claire screaming.
***
“Nick?”
His whole
body was trembling, and every now and then, he would jerk or moan, as if he
were in pain. Alarmed, she put her hand
on his shoulder and shook him gently, trying to bring him back to
consciousness.
“Nick? Wake up!
Wake up, Nick!”
***
He awoke to
the sound of his own name and found himself lying on the front hall floor, the
cold tiles chilling him to the bone. He
sat up quickly, and as the pain hit him, remembered what had happened before he
lost consciousness. Quickly forgetting
the pain, his mind flew instantly to her.
“Claire?!”
He looked
around frantically and found her exactly where the man had restrained her
before, in the corner. She was alone
now, sitting on the floor as he was, her back pressed against the wall. The realization that both of the intruders
were gone filled him with relief momentarily.
Then he
noticed the blood. A large circle of it,
staining her lavender lingerie a sinister shade of scarlet.
“Nick…” she
croaked, and all of a sudden, he felt as if he were going to be sick.
“No,” he
choked out. “God, Claire… no.” Without a second thought, he put out his
hands and used all the strength he could muster to drag himself across the
smooth tiles. Pain radiated from every
inch of his body, intensifying with each movement he made, but he ignored it;
getting to her was all that mattered now.
When he
reached her side, he saw that she was breathing laboriously, her ashen skin
covered in perspiration. “Oh God,” he
whispered again, realizing how badly she’d been wounded. How could I have let this happen? he
thought. How could I have let him do
this to her? “I’m sorry, Claire…
God, I’m so sorry…”
“It’s not…
your fault…” She closed her eyes
briefly. When she opened them again, he
saw how dull they looked, not their usual shade of lustrous blue. “I’m so cold…”
He shook
his head, panic-stricken, not knowing what to do for her. So he did the only thing he could think
of. Very slowly and gently, he eased her
down, so that she was lying flat, her head in his lap. He ran his hands up and down her arms, trying
to warm her up. He felt her wince, and
his eyes shot instantly to the stain on her silken nightdress. It seemed to be growing larger. Swallowing hard, he reached for the hem of
the garment. With trembling fingers, he
pulled it slowly up, over her thighs, past her waist. When he lifted it above her stomach, he felt
his own stomach turn at the sight.
“It’s bad…
isn’t it?” she whispered.
He couldn’t
answer. He lowered the nightgown, and
when he pulled his hands away, he saw that they were streaked with blood.
Her blood.
“I’m sorry,
Claire,” he repeated thickly, tears rising in his eyes once again as he stared
down at his hands. “I’m so sorry… I’m so
sorry…”
***
“I’msorry…I’ms-sorry…I’msosorry…”
“Nick!” Claire shook him frantically; why wouldn’t he
wake up?? She’d awoken to find him
tossing and turning, moaning in his sleep.
Then he’d started trembling, and now he kept mumbling the same thing
over and over again. I’m sorry… I’m
sorry… “Wake up!” she cried, roughly patting one of
his cheeks.
That did
it. With a gasp, his eyes snapped open,
and his body jolted upright.
Immediately, he looked over at her.
In the light of the bedside lamp she had turned on, Claire could see the
tears in the corners of his eyes; they had started to trickle down his cheeks.
“Nick?” she
asked, her voice shrill and frightened.
“Are you okay??”
He took in
a deep, shuddering breath and released it slowly before nodding. “You’re… you’re all right,” he panted,
staring at her with wide eyes.
“I’m fine,”
she said, confused. “Just completely
freaked out, thanks to you. Did you have
a nightmare??” She didn’t try to hide
her concern. What on earth had he been
dreaming of that would make him react so severely?
He nodded
again. “It was horrible,” he admitted
hoarsely. He looked completely shaken.
Gently, she
reached out to him and pulled him into a tight hug. Smoothing back his hair, running her hand up
and down his back like a mother would to a child, she whispered soothingly,
“It’s okay now… just a dream.” She held
onto him for a long time before finally letting him go. As they both straightened up, she asked, “Do
you want to tell me about it?”
He wiped
his eyes, rubbing away the moisture that had formed there. “There were two of them,” he said. “Kind of a dream within a dream… and the last
one, it felt so real… I thought it was real. I thought you were…” He trailed off, and she leaned forward, her
eyes widening.
“Thought I
was what?”
It took a
moment for him to respond, but finally, he did.
“Dying,” he answered in a whisper, dropping his eyes.
Her heart
skipped a beat, and she swallowed hard. “I
was dying?” she repeated weakly. “Should
I take that as a bad sign, the fact that you’re killing me off in your
dreams?” She forced a smile; she’d meant
it as a joke, to lighten the situation.
But his lips did not even twitch.
He looked utterly miserable. “I’m
just kidding,” she said quickly, putting her hand on his shoulder. With her other hand, she reached out and
cupped his chin, gently tilting it up so that his eyes met hers. “It’s okay, Nick,” she assured him. “I’m fine.
Everything’s fine.”
He looked
away and did not reply, and a sick feeling came into the pit of her
stomach. “Nick?” she asked
hesitantly. His eyes shifted back to
hers. “Um, just wondering… what… what
was I dying from? Was it… cancer?” She was almost afraid to hear his
answer. Don’t be ridiculous, she
told herself. It was just a
dream. It doesn’t mean anything.
He
surprised her by suddenly letting out a light chuckle. “No,” he said. “It wasn’t cancer at all. You… you got stabbed.”
“Oh,” she
said, the sick feeling vanishing instantly.
“Is that all??” She felt a
million times better. Stabbed? Psh.
“Is that
all??” Nick repeated, giving her an incredulous look. “It was awful, Claire… scared the hell out of
me.”
“I know,”
she said quickly, offering him a sympathetic smile. “I’m just saying… well, wouldn’t it have been
scarier if it was something that was a little more likely to happen?” She laughed.
“What are the chances of me getting stabbed?”
Finally, he
cracked a smile. “Yeah, good point,” he
murmured quietly. She could see the
smile slowly fading from his lips.
Something was still bothering him.
“Nick? What else happened?” she probed. “I mean, besides me getting stabbed?” She flashed him a quick grin. He didn’t smile back this time. He only shrugged, his shoulders falling
limply. “Don’t do that,” she pleaded
with him. “Don’t just shrug. Talk to me.”
He let out
a soft sigh and lay back against the pillows.
She lay back down beside him, curling up against his chest, wishing he’d
open up to her. She felt his arm come
around her, pulling her even closer, and she smiled a little, enjoying the
feeling of being held close that way.
She felt warm… safe… loved.
“I love
you,” she murmured, closing her eyes and taking in all the sensations that
surrounded her… the softness of his skin against her cheek… the gentle whoosh
of breath as he inhaled and exhaled, his broad chest expanding against her
body. When he spoke, his voice was a low
rumble in her ear.
“Thank
you.”
She blinked
and lifted her head so that she could see his face. “You’re welcome?” she said uncertainly,
feeling a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. “Thank you for what?”
“For saying
that… for loving me,” he replied. His
expression was somber as he went on quietly, “If you didn’t… I don’t know what
I’d do. Just be alone, I guess.”
All of a
sudden, she could see where this conversation was going to lead. “Nick,” she sighed, “I’m not the only one who
loves you. There are plenty of people
out there who care about you just as much as I do. And if you hadn’t have met me, you’d be with
some other woman. What’s happened to you
hasn’t changed the fact that there are plenty of females out there who are
crazy about you.”
His pillow
rustled as he shook his head slowly.
“No. They all think I’m a freak…
a disgusting freak. They couldn’t even
look at me.”
“Couldn’t
even look at you?” she repeated, confused at first by his switching of
tenses. Then it dawned on her. “You mean in your dream? Your nightmare?”
That had to
have been what had sparked all his doubts this time. They resurfaced occasionally… less often now
than during the first few months they had been together, but every now and
then, he still got this way… self-conscious, down on himself, refusing to
believe that anyone could find him desirable.
At first, she’d been included in that “anyone.” Now it was “anyone but her,” as if she were
the only person in the universe who could look past the missing leg and love
him for what really mattered. She supposed
that was progress, but still, it was hard, witnessing these self-loathing
phases he went through. He’d been worse
these last few weeks than she’d seen him in awhile.
He tilted
his chin down, a subtle nod. “I fell… I
tripped and fell, into a puddle of muddy water that was filled with scorpions
and centipedes and leeches.”
Oh my! she thought, like Dorothy in The
Wizard of Oz. But as she felt his
body shudder against hers, she chose not to say that out loud. He would think she was mocking him, and that
was the last thing she wanted.
“I could
hear them laughing, when I fell,” he continued quietly. “And when I got up, I was on this road… and
there were all these people lined up on both sides…”
She
listened as he recounted his dream, how he’d had to walk down the road, past
all these people who stared at him and whispered about him behind his
back. She winced as he repeated the
words they had said, his voice filled with bitterness. Her heart ached as he listed the people he
had seen, people who had once been friends, lovers, even his own mother.
Then he
went on to the second part of the dream, and she listened intently, curious to
find out how exactly it had gone from him walking down this road to her getting
stabbed. He explained how he’d woken up
within his dream and found himself in bed with her, and how she’d gone to
investigate the sounds they’d heard.
That was dumb of me, she thought, but again, she did not
speak. The memories of the seemingly
vivid dream were still pouring out of him, and she knew better than to
interrupt. He needed to get this out; he
needed the release.
“… So I got
up and followed you, as fast as I could… but I was too late. By the time I got out to the front hall, they
already had you. One of them was holding
onto you, holding you at knifepoint.
Y-you were terrified, and I… I couldn’t do anything… The other guy, he knocked me down, and he
grabbed one of my crutches and started beating me with it. And I couldn’t stop him… I couldn’t get up; I
couldn’t fight back… I couldn’t do anything.”
His voice was thick and filled with shame.
“Well, of
course you couldn’t,” she jumped to his defense, her hand lightly trailing
across his chest. “Who could, with
someone beating them like that?” she asked, her voice turning shrill as she
imagined the horrific scene from his nightmare.
He
swallowed hard. “I should have been able
to… I should have been able to stop them… I should have been able to protect
you… and I couldn’t.”
“It’s not
your fault, Nick,” she said softly. “It
was just a dream. Nothing like that is
going to happen. And good lord, if I ever
thought I heard someone breaking in, I sure as hell wouldn’t go check it
out! I mean, come on, that’s just asking
for it!” He chuckled, and she smiled
with relief. “Are you all right?” she
asked him.
“I guess,”
he replied uncertainly. “I just…” He trailed off with a heavy sigh.
“Keep
going,” she urged him gently.
“I just…
hate being this way. I hate feeling
helpless.” Back was the bitterness and
spite in his voice.
“You’re not
helpless, Nick,” she told him. “There
are a lot of things you can still do… and look how far you’ve come since last
year. Yes, you’re always going to have
limitations, but who doesn’t? There are tons
of things I’ll never be able to do.”
“Well,
sure… but I’m talking about basic stuff.
Basic, easy stuff. I can’t
even fucking walk anymore, not without help.”
“You can sing
though. I’ll never be able to sing, even
with help. But to you, that’s
easy,” she countered. His pillow rustled
again as he moved his head. She tilted
her head up to find him scowling down at her, with a look that said, That’s
not fair. She shot him an impish
grin. “See?” she said. “Everybody has strengths and weaknesses,
whether they’re totally able-bodied or not.
Yes, just about anyone could kick your ass in a footrace right now, but
you could kick just about anyone’s ass in a race on Nintendo. You can shoot baskets better than I can…
you’re a better scuba diver than me… hell, you might still even be able to swim
faster than me, but I’m not giving you that one that easy… we’ll have to race
and find out sometime.”
She watched
as a smile broke out on his face.
“You’re on,” he challenged, his voice slightly hoarse.
“You got
it,” she smiled back. He yawned in
response, making her giggle. “Ready to
go back to sleep?”
“Yeah,” he
nodded, closing his eyes. “Thanks,
Claire. For l-“
“You don’t
have to thank me for loving you,” she interrupted him. “I don’t do it for your gratitude… I don’t do
it for anything. I just… do. I love you, Nick; I can’t help
it.” She paused, then added, “And
anyway, that’s a Bon Jovi song.”
“What is?”
“’Thank You
For Loving Me’.”
“Thank
you-ou-ou… for loooov-ii-ing me,” he warbled in a surprisingly accurate Jon Bon
Jovi impression and then cut off, smiling sheepishly at her. “That’s not even what I was gonna say, you
know.”
“Oh
really? What were you going to thank me
for then?” After she asked the question,
she felt his arm tighten around her again.
“For
listening.”
Oh, why you look so sad?
Tears are in your eyes
Come on and come to me now
Don’t be ashamed to cry
Let me see you through
‘Cause I’ve seen the dark side too
When the night falls on you
And you don’t know what to do
Nothing you confess
Could make me love you less
I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you
So if you’re mad, get mad
Don’t hold it all inside
Come on and talk to me now
And hey, what you got to hide?
I get angry too
But I’m a lot like you
When you’re standing at the crossroads
Don’t know which path to choose
Let me come along
Cause even if you’re wrong
I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you
Take me into your darkest hour
And I’ll never desert you
I’ll stand by you
- “I’ll Stand By You” by The Pretenders
***