Chapter One

This chapter is the first look at Michael and his unknown past. It takes place in a hospital and give you an idea of his outlook on life etc.

 

            “Michael? Are you awake?”

Her iridescent voice drifts into his ears, snaking in and out of his subconscious and soaking into a level of his brain he doesn’t know exists. Instantaneously, waves of pleasure pulsate to the very ends of his bruised fingertips. Bliss causes his chest to return to a rhythmic and calming beat; rising and falling with an ease he hasn’t possessed for quite some time.

“For the time being…” he answers, before opening his dry eyes to the warm unidentified presence standing beside the door. His gaze centralizes on a stiff wiry woman dressed in a pinstripe skirt and matching suit jacket. Her straw-coloured hair is tied back into an uptight bun whilst side bangs frame her oval face; leaving a hint of relaxation to her skittish personality. Her complexion glows like a full midnight moon, even in accompaniment with the harsh fluorescent lighting that beats harshly upon her pinched yet beautiful face. Bristling lashes surround her almond shaped eyes, reminding him of thick black stitching. It’s the same thread that binds the worry into her pupils and the bags beneath her eager, watery eyes. He is close to placing a name to her face, but she beats him to the punch.

“It’s me…Christie. Do you remember?” 

Michael, only momentarily, pauses in thought before memories from high school begin flooding back. Although, he finds it harder to recall her without voluminousbleached hair, leather jacket, and washed out drainpipes. She was one of the more sociable girls, the kind who would frolic to dances and pool parties despite her deeper addiction to sexual ambiguous hair bands. They never talked, except for occasionally during Chemistry, but he had admired her from afar. He used to watch her from across the cafeteria; staring at her large and lively eyes from beneath curled blonde bangs. 

“Yeah I remember. Why are you here?” He sees her agitation at his snappy reply, which she soon covers with a quick reply.

“Well why do you think I’m here…just to occupy space?” He nods his head in acceptance for she makes a good point. She gives him a smirk and pulls up the nearest chair. The piercing slide of the chair’s metal legs against the tile floor echoes throughout the silent hospital room and makes Michael wince in both pain and annoyance. He briefly considers the reason why the floor is tile; so it’s easy to wipe away the blood, but he doesn’t get too detailed about it before turning his attention back to Christie. She takes a seat by his bed, as if his worried, sorrow-ridden spouse, and places a delicate, manicured hand on the thick woolen blanket covering his legs. He can feel her fingertips press lightly onto another bruise and holds his breath in pain. 

“How are you doing,” she whispers. He collects himself, silently deciding whether to tell her the truth or the constantly repeated cliché. He gives her another once-over and figures she could handle the raw truth.

“How do you think I’m doing Christie? I have cancer. I’m dead in a week,” with each word sarcasm and honesty drip from his teeth instead of saliva. It’s as if every one of his words cut into her, darkening the black and blue bags beneath her sleepless eyes. At first he thought the truth was a bit too harsh for the cheerleading Christie he used to be so barely acquainted with.  The thought came and went before he realizes her eyes weren’t full of the compassion that she had entered the room with. Icy blues replace her original ocean orbs, and her eyebrows furrow intensely above them. They now stare into his and he can feel them slicing his ego into thin ribbons. Instantly, he put up his temporary wall, arming himself for the stinging comment that would soon whip out of her pursed mouth. However, unknown to him, she held herself back.

“Don’t talk like that. Enjoy the time you have left instead of snapping at every

pleasantry,” she calmly replies. Her answer almost doesn’t register to him behind his wall of protection. Quickly contemplating what she said, he decides that she is right. But being the stubborn jackass he has become, mind and current mood decides to put a spin on his response.

“I haven’t enjoyed life up to this point. Why should I start now?”

She opens her mouth, lets out a deep sigh, and continues, “Because there are still people who care about you.”

How could she possibly know who cares about me? My family disowned me and I’m sure by now nobody else is willing to be associated with me. 

He is still surprised she is even here in the first place. She must retain an uneducated dogma of his past, because any knowledgeable and sane person would stay the hell away. When he snaps back to reality he can see that she’s waiting for some sort of reply. This time he holds back the unnecessary comments and lets the more censored choice words fly.

“That’s a surprise, in fact, it makes no sense. I know I’m alone; you don’t have to water it down for me.” Christie winces at his opinion and decides, unlike Michael, to ride a higher wave. She reminds herself not to get bent out of shape and to realize how hard it is to know the date of your own death.

“Sometimes life doesn’t make sense…let alone death. You couldn’t have gone through that much,” she says. Michael shuts his eyes and takes in a deep breath of the surrounding tense air. “You couldn’t have gone through that much,” he thought, her words dancing in his brain; teasing his patience. “You couldn’t have gone through that much,” her words echo through his eardrums and loosen the tight leash around the neck of his tugging thoughts. He clenches his teeth, trying desperately to hold back the nasty comments pushing against the inside of his teeth. 

“I don’t know why you want me to be so god damn happy! Everyone I ever cared about is gone, I’m in horrible agony, and to top it all off I’m f*****g dead in a week!! I’m only thirty-three Christie…it wasn’t supposed to be like this…I mean, of all the s**t I’ve lived through and it turns out that cancer is my demise? It makes no sense!” As soon as the words escape his mouth he knew he should have kept them on a much tighter leash. However, there’s no going back and he takes in a deep breath to ease the physical pain that struck after his outburst. A tense silence follows; encircling them and slithers through the stingy hospital air. It is in this moment Michael decides that since there is no backtracking he might as well keep going.

“I guess your cheerleading brain can’t wrap itself around the concept that maybe I did go through a lot. What’s the most you’ve ever had to worry about…who your prom date was going to be? You have no f*****g clue to what my life was like!” He notices the hurt form on her still framed face. She doesn’t even try to cover it up anymore and he knew he had delivered a low blow. Her slightly risen shoulders hint to her decaying self esteem. Her temples contract and relax as she grinds her teeth in a deadly mix of pain and anger. Letting out a sigh, she begins what Michael was expecting to be comments dripping in repugnancy.

But she simply states, “You couldn’t have done anything that can’t be forgiven…but I understand your reasoning.” With that, she turns and leaves the room, silently latching the door behind her and leaving Michael to soak up his new found guilt.

He closes his eyes; hoping death will knock on his door a bit earlier than predicted. When he doesn’t hear anything he lets out a breath that he had unknowingly been holding since the first strike of his snake-like words. A horrid feeling creeps upon him, covering him like the woolen blanket wrapped around his legs, for what he said to Christie. She doesn’t deserve that much disrespect; if anything he; himself, deserves it more. She drove from Houston all the way to Madison just to check in on him and lend her support, and how does he treat her? Like the scum beneath a rock. However, through all these thoughts he still despises what she said.  

You couldn’t have gone through that much. Before drifting off into dreamland, the only place that brought any sign of a smile to Michael’s face, he utters one last footnote toward the now departed Christie.

“No you don’t….”    

         

Author's Note

Grammer comments are greatly appreciated as well as any other input.
I know I have a problem of continuing the same tense throughout the entire story so any place where that needs fixing please feel free to point it out.
Also do you feel connection with the reader, is it well done in general?

Reviews

[TL Boehm]

Nicely done so far. Solid descriptions - good to see dialogue right away. It will be interesting to see how you progress with the characters.