Eros
03-07-2004, 11:36 PM
I finished this about two weeks ago, and still haven't fully edited it. With the lack of a useful word processor (other than WordPad), I'm relying only on my natural speeling abilities to get through ;)
This is the first version of it; I'm writing another version right now. It's going to be much, much longer. Printed in Arial at size 10, this current version is just about five pages. I'm aiming for something longer, anywhere between 25 and 40 pages. And now, a round of applaus for Chaos ;)
Being my typical self, I've barely edited and grammarized this, so try not and whore me too badly about the small things. Warning: There is a sexual scene in here which may not be too appropriate for some people.
Heart to Heart
Allie adjusted her bra as she switched lanes, ignoring her cell phone that was ringing constantly now, but she's gotten used to ignoring it. Most likely her mother begging her not to drive out to Chris' place, to not make up with him, and not to ever go near the creep again. She swallowed in a dry throat and picked up her phone after it stopped singing it's mind-splitting tune, and saw that it wasn't her mother, and that it was Rennae. Who was probably going to ask her if she wanted to go out and party tonight, pick up some guys, get smashed, and have a hangover that would knock out a cow the next morning. Allie didn't want to go out tonight. Not tomorrow either. And probably not the day after that. But should could use a drink.
Her palms were sweaty and her lips were chapped, but she didn't care. She had to see him. She needed to see him. Needed to be held by him. Miss McCallaghan stepped on the accelerator, and was pushed further back into her seat, and began crying. She didn't notice until a warm tear collided with her right forearm.
Sobbing loudly, she slowed at the light, and leaned over to the glove compartment, searching for a tissue, or a napkin to clean herself up before she reached his house. Envelopes, an old Dunkin Donuts bag, an old atlas and her spare cell phone battery which she'd been thought she'd lost months ago all took a tumble to the floor as she grappled for the tissues. She sat back up with a handful of them, and hastily brought them to her face, smudging what little makeup she had on, and scratching her nose.
Allie screamed to herself: "Oh, you stupid bitch! Grow up! Really!" as she threw the handful of tissues (which were actually old McDonalds napkins) on the floor, making friends with her battery and the tattered old atlas. The light changed. She met this scream with a crank on the volume knob of her stereo, at it was now when she finally thanked herself for dishing out the cash for this system. The sounds flowed over her, the vibration of the dual subwoofers calmed her a little, and she accelerated forward.
"Hey, man, I know I shouldn't do this, but I kinda have to, ya know? It's just one of those things... It's hard to explain, but I just know I have to do it."
"Whatever man. Really. Hey, look, I gotta go. I'll catch ya later, okay? Good luck with, uh, the whole situation and all. I think you're going to need it."
"Yeah. Thanks man. Later." Chris hung up the phone with a sigh. He just needed to talk, even if just for a few minutes, and he couldn't even get that. He wanted to talk with his girlfriend, but she wouldn't answer her cell. He brought the cordless into the living room and hung it up on the charger. He really needed to get packing.
Masses of pictures, letters, CDs, and other miscellaneous objects were neatly loaded into a medium sized cardboard box by a young attractive man, who needed a haircut and a shave. He picked up the box and began walking out to the backdoor, that's where she usually came in the house. Usually, anyway. It just so happened that she decided to use the front door the day him and his downstairs neighbor decided to have a little escapade. Chris remembered it. Oh, how he remembered it...
"No, she's not going to come this way...she never does. Come on, man. You said you wanted to try something like this, right?" The statement was answered with a pale gaze. It broke out into a radiant smile that moved quickly forward. Their lips locked. Tongues danced. Fingers tangled.
"This feels so-"
"Right. It feels so right, doesn't it? Doesn't it?"
"Well, not-"
"Don't you say it. Don't you dare say it. You've come to far to say something like that."
"I wasn't going to-"
"Good." Chris' heart was fluttering like a bird caged for the first time. He felt weak in the knees, and a little lightheaded. Well, not a little. They began to kiss again.
"Jerry, wait, please-"
"Don't give me that." Chris was too submissive to not let Jerry have his way with him. They both knew it. Jerry grabbed his shoulders and swung him around to where he was just standing, so his back was against the wall, and Chris was standing just behind the front door. "Now. You know what I want. Yeah?"
Chris answered with another blank gaze. His knees buckled and he felt like he was going to pass out for a second. "Trust me, it's not that hard. You just need to relax your throat, and let your head and mouth do all the work." He couldn't believe this. He wanted to get out of here. He could overpower Jerry easily -- he outweighed him by atleast 40 pounds. He seriously considered balling up his right hand into a tight fist, and ramming it straight into Jerry's perfectly straight teeth, or maybe his upper lip. Yeah. Give him a dentist bill and a hospital bill. One for the nose, another for the teeth. How nifty.
Jerry was moaning as soon as Chris' lips met his member. It wasn't long before a steady motion was setup, and it didn't take much longer for Allie to open the door and see Chris doing what he did best.
At first, Chris felt a cold pain go shooting down his spine, and he instantly thought that Allie had stabbed him with something, but then he realized that he wasn't stabbed. He wasn't dying. The things draining down his spine were his pride and dignity, he soon realized. He slowly turned his head, letting his eyes slowly adjust to the light pouring in from the front door. The first thing he saw was the necklace he'd given her just four days before. It was a solid gold heart that was laced with ruby, her birthstone. The light bounced of it and into his eyes, increasing his shame two fold.
Allie said nothing. She dropped the two bags in her arms, turned around, and walked out. The rush of cold air was the only thing to great Chris as he collapsed to the floor.
"Pff. Bitch."
Just as Chris set the box of Allie's belongings on his kitchen counter and sat down to cry, his ex-girlfriend game to play with the pendant which still hung around her neck. The scenery blazed by in a blur of colors that Allie barely noticed. It was late fall now, and the Connecticut trees were in their autumnal peak, and it was truly a thing to behold. An aerial view would look strikingly similar to a vast sea of fire - oranges leaping into reds mixing with yellows, all melting into a gradient of colors that would steal the breath away from the oldest New England residents.
Chris unconsciously placed the box of his lost lover's belongings outside his back door, where he said he would put them so she could come and pick them up; once and forever. Gripping the handle of the refrigerator and leaned back, opening it with his own weight. The cool air soothed his hot face, as did the can of Budweiser which was soon pressing against his left cheek. No sooner was it cracked open and half gone than Allie had pulled over onto the shoulder to pick up the clump of tissues (napkins) which she'd thrown on the floor.
By the time she thought she was under control again, Chris was working on his third beer, with the previous two empties laying amongst the clutter of CDs which he'd taken out the night before. He guessed he had something like a few thousand CDs, but never bothered to count. Led Zepplin, Thursday, Eminem, Rolling Stones, and a few hundred Electronic disks. He had a burned Zepplin CD and Thursday's latest album, War All The Time in the CD changer, he realized when he hit play and What Is And What Should Never be began to slither out of his precious speakers. Our hero didn't notice the slight dribble of foam that lapped over his hand as he cracked open his fifth and took a gulp.
Now he was playing air guitar to Rock and Roll, turning up the volume and draining out his problems. Chris knew the words, he knew all of the words to almost every Led Zepplin song he'd ever heard, but he didn't feel like singing along with sir Robert today. Nope, not really. He continued onto his seventh consecutive Bud as Moby Dick played on through his thickening haze of alcohol.
It was now more than ever that Allie wanted a drink. Not just a little nip of something, but a tremendous swig straight from the bottle. Not only would it calm her down, but it would probably make picking her old stuff up from Chris' a few thousand times easier. He's probably getting smashed, anyway. Listening to his shitty music with empties all over the place. She proceeded to hate herself for thinking a thought like that, and she wasn't too sure why.
When she realized that she was only a few minutes away from retrieving her things, she finally decided to obey the speed limit, and try to take in her surroundings. The gold heart which hung from her necklace had suddenly gained weight; a new density that was bringing back dozens of fond memories and good times that swirled past her faster than the orange blur that occupied all of her peripheral vision. The speedometer had somehow crept back up to just under 80.
Their first date. Allie had forgotten it completely until this moment, as everything rushed back to her, threatening a serious sensory overload. The scent of his cologn intermingling with that of the roses, the eager and yet conservative light in his eyes, and the subtle yet gentle touch that captivated her in an instant. The feeling of utter embarrassment at her own lack of a gift for him which, at the time seemed almost criminal, was soothed away with a silky smooth line of prose which Chris credited to some author whom she couldn't remember. When he-
An explosion of sound forcefully withdrew Allie from this nostalgic state, later turned out to be a fellow drivers horn. Apparently, Allie had begun swerving into multiple lanes - slowly at first, but eventually swinging back and forth like a canoe caught up in an unruly surf. Screaming, she righted herself and dropped her speed to 40, envoking more horn tooters to slam on their breaks and punch their steering wheels. After quickly considering pulling over again, Allie McCallaghan decided that the trees looked a lot better in motion.
The resurfacing of these memories made the remaining eleven minutes of the ride there seem like a cross country road trip. All the while she kept her left hand on the steering wheel, and her right playing with the crimson laced heart which Chris had given to her on their fourth date. It was by the second date that she felt he would be the last man she would ever need. The smooth polished heart was opened, revealing a black and white photo of both of them. The shot was taken by the out-stretched arm of Chris, as the both of them enjoyed their first vacation together in Trondheim, a town in Norway where Allie's grandmother was born. The picture was both of their faces leaning against one another, with the white satin sheets of their hotel bedroom as the backdrop, both of their beeming smiles radiating nothing but the purest and most unscathed love for one another. His left arm was wrapped around her shoulder, and her auburn hair, streaked with dashes of light blonde, rest against his chest.
A sudden and unexpected attack of vomitting, along with the death of two double A batteries can quickly ruin anyones fun - including Chris'. His seventh beer lay on its side in the living room, half of its contents spilled out on the rug. The Led Zepplin mix had stopped playing. Bile and last nights Hot Pockets lay mixing with toilet water, and soon expelled into the sewege system. Not only can a sudden attack of vomit ruins someones fun - but it can also sober you up pretty damn quick.
Christian Jenkins made his way slowly down the stairs, thinking about making a sandwich and then taking a nap. He decides that the nap takes priority over the sandwich, because the couch is closer than the fridge, and the effort needed to open the device would probably put him in the hospital.
As his head hit the bottom end of the arm wrest, Chris' mind decided to revive one of the many times Allie had taken care of him after a night of drinking. It was like a memory, except it was too vivid. Too clear. It was like a movie projector decided to finally start playing, and the feature film was of an early Saturday morning, roughly two or three A.M., and our lead character was boozed up beyond recognition. Our character is wearing a dark blue fleece pullover with tan khakis that appear to be stained with some sort of liquid: it's either a strategically spilled cup of beer, or our devastatingly handsome actor pissed himself. Being supported by a tired looking, chestnut-haired woman who appears to be in her mid-to-late twenties, he appears to be using her for a lot more than just extra balance. The bags under our actress' eyes only show us one aspect of her exhaustion; aside from having to carry in this drunk in to the house, change his clothes and ward off the dozens of people who want to know if he is alright and if he got home safely, all the while being groped and grabbed in all the wrong places by the one person left in this world that she actually loves. Chris. Christ Jenkins. She tosses our hero onto the couch and initiates the task of changing his clothes, which she accomplishes quickly; she ignores the three times he grabbed her breasts and numberous grabbing of her butt. Walking back into the kitchen to close and lock the door for the night, the phone interupts her thoughts for a moment, and instead of picking up the reciever and issuing out a feminine "Hello?", she grabs hold of the phone chord, and pulls. She twangs and snaps of the plastic cracking from the wall are satisfying, in some primal way. Making her way back into the living room, with out hero most likely passed out on the couch, she carries with her a large plush blanket, but upon walking into the living room, finds the couch empty. Frowning, she calls out "Chris? Honey?", and is swept off her feet so quickly her stomach was still in front of the couch as the rest of her body is being hauled up the stairs. "Chris! Chris! What are you doing?! Put me down! God damnit-"
"Don't you ever curse at me like that again...you get me, woman?" [/i]Don'tchoo evir curse at mee like that agin... you git me womin?[/i]
"Honey, please put me down. You're drunk."
"No I'm not!" he hollared as he dropped her at the top of the stairs. Allie didn't like the look on his face, the smell of his breath, or the way he keeps swaying back and forth like that. After hesitating a moment for no real reason, our hero falls on top of our baggy-eyed heroin and begans shuffeling with her clothes.
"Don't you dare-!" The scream was high pitched and frantic. If she didn't get this bufoon off of her...
"Hey, honey," Heeeyy, honay
Chris tossed her onto her stomach with frightening ease. Feeling one hand of his shaky grasp force her shoulders into the floor, and the other one leave her body, Allie began to panic. She felt something warm and fleshy on the small of her back, and in all out desperation, threw her head backwards as hard as she could, and luckily connected with the top Chris' own.
The next day, Chris said he didn't remember anything from about a quarter of ten on, but he wouldn't stop complaining about his "bitchin" headache.
Allie buried this experience deep down into her memory banks, forever hoping that it wouldn't resurface itself in the future.
As our present-day hero lies on the very same couch from which his altered conscious decided to try and rape the one love of his entire life, the tears continue to stream down in hot rivers that burn his face. The memory stopped. If it weren't for the current amount of alochol in his blood stream at this very moment, Chris would have nothing to stop him from walking upstairs, taking out his father's old .357, and repainting his bathroom red.
It took him a minute to realize that someone had been wringing his doorbell for quite some time. Sitting up straight and trying his best to clear his eyes of any evidence of his tears, he walked out into the kitchen after quickly blowing his nose.
To Chris Jenkins, it seemed as if someone was waiting for him behind that door with a double barrel shotgun, itching for the second the door was opened to step up and pull the trigger. Someone had been waiting for him, but the trigger in this case, was a familiar smile and a slim figure that had been all but his, once upon a time. It was at this instant that Chris experienced something very similar, if not exactly the same as what happened to Allie on the highway. Edges blurred, the worlds color melted away and he felt as if he were going to faint.
When he came back around, he was looking at the same person, except she was turned around, and was carrying something in her left arm. She had seen the box of her old things, and was now ready to be on her way. She turned her shoulders and began to take a step, when Chris exhaled quickly and took a small step forward. Allie turned around quickly. The light coming in through the door directly in front of her painted the most beautiful picture - the light flowed off the sides of her face and molded around her hips and breasts, accenting every detail of her figure.
She slowly raised her free right hand, and let her hand fondle the pendant which still hung from her neck. The sunlight flashed off of the ruby, obscuring Chris' vision for not a second, and once he could see again, the door was closed, and she was gone. Gone.
Gone. Chris fell to his knees and began sobbing uncontrolably. This sense of loss was like nothing he'd ever experienced before, through any of the break ups and arguments he'd gone through with his past girlfriends. Not only had he lost the woman whom he planned on marrying, but he'd lost the best friend he'd ever had. The years trust, love, and friendship, forever destroyed in an moment so innocent that it could have been defiled by nothing.
Gone.
No. No -- he wasn't going to have it this way. He wasn't going to live with the fact that he let his girlfriend - his lover - his best friend simply walk out on him, not without letting her know how he felt. Even though he'd told her so many times before, every time they went to bed, every time they left to go to work, every time they hung up the phone after talking with each other -- he needed to tell her that he loved her.
Pushing himself up off his dirty hallway and opening the door in one swift movement, the warm fresh air enveloped his body and filled his lungs with a feeling like no other. Whipping around to his right and barreling down the stairs and turning the corner to see down his driveway -- he saw that she was already pulling out.
Allie was serious. She really ment to leave him, once and for all.
Her cherry red Cavalier kept pulling out, foot after foot, inch after inch.
Sprinting down his driveway as fast as his legs would propel him, the ground between himself and the car now seemed infinitely longer than it really was. He seemed like he were running through water - his actions were slow and clumsy -- he wasn't going to make it. She was going to keep backing up until she reached the road, then she's going to turn around and accelerate into a new life.
"NO!" Taking another breath of the warm air invigorated him; he was closing the distance.
Allie had apparently heard him, because she had turned her head forward after pulling all the way out into the street.
Their eyes met -- locked -- and both of them burst into tears of joy. Chris couldn't stop staring into her eyes. He was no less than 15 feet away from her now.
And Chris wouldn't have stopped staring into those beautiful hazel eyes, but all great things come to an end. Chris hadn't actually realized what had happened until after Allie's car had landed. He couldn't hear her scream.
Looking down his street, Chris was too shocked to react in any way. A semi, one baring Erwin's Trucking Co. on its passenger door had erased Allie's Cavalier, along with everything in it. The truck was trying to come to a halt: its tires screeching in a defening pitch, kicking up dust and billowing out smoke. Pieces of her car where everywhere. Chris even saw shards of the white cardboard box he had used to hold her things.
Chris felt nothing. He was numb from the tips of his fingers to the soles of his feet. The sound of metal grating against metal, rubber screaming against concrete, all seemed muffled and far away. He felt something hit him in his chest, probably some type of debris. Collapsing, he began to shake and sob, but he knew better. Tears would have no healing power over this. Nothing would.
Leaning over onto his side and laying on the ground, the volume of the world became to steadily increase. He heard small popping noises, probably the paint burning off of whatever was left of Allie's (body) car. Time became erratic, speeding up and slowing down as it saw fit. Chris scratched the spot where the debris had hit him. It didn't hurt, it just felt a little funny.
Chris sat up. Tried to wipe his face, but succeeded only in smudging dirt over his face.
He took in a deep breath - and stopped halfway through. His heart exploded in a fury of sadness. He gripped his chest, and he could feel the steady beating gain speed and strength: it was where the debris had hit him. But what had collided with him seconds after losing the one thing he looked forward to in the world wasn't debris at all. It was far, far from it.
Picking up the object and pawing at it gently with his hands, tears created clean rivers of white skin through the dirt that was caked on his face.
A smile broke on his face.
The warm breeze picked up again.
Light reflected off of three thin strands of ruby that encased a small heart-shaped pendant.
---------
Just looking for some general feedback on this piece. =)
This is the first version of it; I'm writing another version right now. It's going to be much, much longer. Printed in Arial at size 10, this current version is just about five pages. I'm aiming for something longer, anywhere between 25 and 40 pages. And now, a round of applaus for Chaos ;)
Being my typical self, I've barely edited and grammarized this, so try not and whore me too badly about the small things. Warning: There is a sexual scene in here which may not be too appropriate for some people.
Heart to Heart
Allie adjusted her bra as she switched lanes, ignoring her cell phone that was ringing constantly now, but she's gotten used to ignoring it. Most likely her mother begging her not to drive out to Chris' place, to not make up with him, and not to ever go near the creep again. She swallowed in a dry throat and picked up her phone after it stopped singing it's mind-splitting tune, and saw that it wasn't her mother, and that it was Rennae. Who was probably going to ask her if she wanted to go out and party tonight, pick up some guys, get smashed, and have a hangover that would knock out a cow the next morning. Allie didn't want to go out tonight. Not tomorrow either. And probably not the day after that. But should could use a drink.
Her palms were sweaty and her lips were chapped, but she didn't care. She had to see him. She needed to see him. Needed to be held by him. Miss McCallaghan stepped on the accelerator, and was pushed further back into her seat, and began crying. She didn't notice until a warm tear collided with her right forearm.
Sobbing loudly, she slowed at the light, and leaned over to the glove compartment, searching for a tissue, or a napkin to clean herself up before she reached his house. Envelopes, an old Dunkin Donuts bag, an old atlas and her spare cell phone battery which she'd been thought she'd lost months ago all took a tumble to the floor as she grappled for the tissues. She sat back up with a handful of them, and hastily brought them to her face, smudging what little makeup she had on, and scratching her nose.
Allie screamed to herself: "Oh, you stupid bitch! Grow up! Really!" as she threw the handful of tissues (which were actually old McDonalds napkins) on the floor, making friends with her battery and the tattered old atlas. The light changed. She met this scream with a crank on the volume knob of her stereo, at it was now when she finally thanked herself for dishing out the cash for this system. The sounds flowed over her, the vibration of the dual subwoofers calmed her a little, and she accelerated forward.
"Hey, man, I know I shouldn't do this, but I kinda have to, ya know? It's just one of those things... It's hard to explain, but I just know I have to do it."
"Whatever man. Really. Hey, look, I gotta go. I'll catch ya later, okay? Good luck with, uh, the whole situation and all. I think you're going to need it."
"Yeah. Thanks man. Later." Chris hung up the phone with a sigh. He just needed to talk, even if just for a few minutes, and he couldn't even get that. He wanted to talk with his girlfriend, but she wouldn't answer her cell. He brought the cordless into the living room and hung it up on the charger. He really needed to get packing.
Masses of pictures, letters, CDs, and other miscellaneous objects were neatly loaded into a medium sized cardboard box by a young attractive man, who needed a haircut and a shave. He picked up the box and began walking out to the backdoor, that's where she usually came in the house. Usually, anyway. It just so happened that she decided to use the front door the day him and his downstairs neighbor decided to have a little escapade. Chris remembered it. Oh, how he remembered it...
"No, she's not going to come this way...she never does. Come on, man. You said you wanted to try something like this, right?" The statement was answered with a pale gaze. It broke out into a radiant smile that moved quickly forward. Their lips locked. Tongues danced. Fingers tangled.
"This feels so-"
"Right. It feels so right, doesn't it? Doesn't it?"
"Well, not-"
"Don't you say it. Don't you dare say it. You've come to far to say something like that."
"I wasn't going to-"
"Good." Chris' heart was fluttering like a bird caged for the first time. He felt weak in the knees, and a little lightheaded. Well, not a little. They began to kiss again.
"Jerry, wait, please-"
"Don't give me that." Chris was too submissive to not let Jerry have his way with him. They both knew it. Jerry grabbed his shoulders and swung him around to where he was just standing, so his back was against the wall, and Chris was standing just behind the front door. "Now. You know what I want. Yeah?"
Chris answered with another blank gaze. His knees buckled and he felt like he was going to pass out for a second. "Trust me, it's not that hard. You just need to relax your throat, and let your head and mouth do all the work." He couldn't believe this. He wanted to get out of here. He could overpower Jerry easily -- he outweighed him by atleast 40 pounds. He seriously considered balling up his right hand into a tight fist, and ramming it straight into Jerry's perfectly straight teeth, or maybe his upper lip. Yeah. Give him a dentist bill and a hospital bill. One for the nose, another for the teeth. How nifty.
Jerry was moaning as soon as Chris' lips met his member. It wasn't long before a steady motion was setup, and it didn't take much longer for Allie to open the door and see Chris doing what he did best.
At first, Chris felt a cold pain go shooting down his spine, and he instantly thought that Allie had stabbed him with something, but then he realized that he wasn't stabbed. He wasn't dying. The things draining down his spine were his pride and dignity, he soon realized. He slowly turned his head, letting his eyes slowly adjust to the light pouring in from the front door. The first thing he saw was the necklace he'd given her just four days before. It was a solid gold heart that was laced with ruby, her birthstone. The light bounced of it and into his eyes, increasing his shame two fold.
Allie said nothing. She dropped the two bags in her arms, turned around, and walked out. The rush of cold air was the only thing to great Chris as he collapsed to the floor.
"Pff. Bitch."
Just as Chris set the box of Allie's belongings on his kitchen counter and sat down to cry, his ex-girlfriend game to play with the pendant which still hung around her neck. The scenery blazed by in a blur of colors that Allie barely noticed. It was late fall now, and the Connecticut trees were in their autumnal peak, and it was truly a thing to behold. An aerial view would look strikingly similar to a vast sea of fire - oranges leaping into reds mixing with yellows, all melting into a gradient of colors that would steal the breath away from the oldest New England residents.
Chris unconsciously placed the box of his lost lover's belongings outside his back door, where he said he would put them so she could come and pick them up; once and forever. Gripping the handle of the refrigerator and leaned back, opening it with his own weight. The cool air soothed his hot face, as did the can of Budweiser which was soon pressing against his left cheek. No sooner was it cracked open and half gone than Allie had pulled over onto the shoulder to pick up the clump of tissues (napkins) which she'd thrown on the floor.
By the time she thought she was under control again, Chris was working on his third beer, with the previous two empties laying amongst the clutter of CDs which he'd taken out the night before. He guessed he had something like a few thousand CDs, but never bothered to count. Led Zepplin, Thursday, Eminem, Rolling Stones, and a few hundred Electronic disks. He had a burned Zepplin CD and Thursday's latest album, War All The Time in the CD changer, he realized when he hit play and What Is And What Should Never be began to slither out of his precious speakers. Our hero didn't notice the slight dribble of foam that lapped over his hand as he cracked open his fifth and took a gulp.
Now he was playing air guitar to Rock and Roll, turning up the volume and draining out his problems. Chris knew the words, he knew all of the words to almost every Led Zepplin song he'd ever heard, but he didn't feel like singing along with sir Robert today. Nope, not really. He continued onto his seventh consecutive Bud as Moby Dick played on through his thickening haze of alcohol.
It was now more than ever that Allie wanted a drink. Not just a little nip of something, but a tremendous swig straight from the bottle. Not only would it calm her down, but it would probably make picking her old stuff up from Chris' a few thousand times easier. He's probably getting smashed, anyway. Listening to his shitty music with empties all over the place. She proceeded to hate herself for thinking a thought like that, and she wasn't too sure why.
When she realized that she was only a few minutes away from retrieving her things, she finally decided to obey the speed limit, and try to take in her surroundings. The gold heart which hung from her necklace had suddenly gained weight; a new density that was bringing back dozens of fond memories and good times that swirled past her faster than the orange blur that occupied all of her peripheral vision. The speedometer had somehow crept back up to just under 80.
Their first date. Allie had forgotten it completely until this moment, as everything rushed back to her, threatening a serious sensory overload. The scent of his cologn intermingling with that of the roses, the eager and yet conservative light in his eyes, and the subtle yet gentle touch that captivated her in an instant. The feeling of utter embarrassment at her own lack of a gift for him which, at the time seemed almost criminal, was soothed away with a silky smooth line of prose which Chris credited to some author whom she couldn't remember. When he-
An explosion of sound forcefully withdrew Allie from this nostalgic state, later turned out to be a fellow drivers horn. Apparently, Allie had begun swerving into multiple lanes - slowly at first, but eventually swinging back and forth like a canoe caught up in an unruly surf. Screaming, she righted herself and dropped her speed to 40, envoking more horn tooters to slam on their breaks and punch their steering wheels. After quickly considering pulling over again, Allie McCallaghan decided that the trees looked a lot better in motion.
The resurfacing of these memories made the remaining eleven minutes of the ride there seem like a cross country road trip. All the while she kept her left hand on the steering wheel, and her right playing with the crimson laced heart which Chris had given to her on their fourth date. It was by the second date that she felt he would be the last man she would ever need. The smooth polished heart was opened, revealing a black and white photo of both of them. The shot was taken by the out-stretched arm of Chris, as the both of them enjoyed their first vacation together in Trondheim, a town in Norway where Allie's grandmother was born. The picture was both of their faces leaning against one another, with the white satin sheets of their hotel bedroom as the backdrop, both of their beeming smiles radiating nothing but the purest and most unscathed love for one another. His left arm was wrapped around her shoulder, and her auburn hair, streaked with dashes of light blonde, rest against his chest.
A sudden and unexpected attack of vomitting, along with the death of two double A batteries can quickly ruin anyones fun - including Chris'. His seventh beer lay on its side in the living room, half of its contents spilled out on the rug. The Led Zepplin mix had stopped playing. Bile and last nights Hot Pockets lay mixing with toilet water, and soon expelled into the sewege system. Not only can a sudden attack of vomit ruins someones fun - but it can also sober you up pretty damn quick.
Christian Jenkins made his way slowly down the stairs, thinking about making a sandwich and then taking a nap. He decides that the nap takes priority over the sandwich, because the couch is closer than the fridge, and the effort needed to open the device would probably put him in the hospital.
As his head hit the bottom end of the arm wrest, Chris' mind decided to revive one of the many times Allie had taken care of him after a night of drinking. It was like a memory, except it was too vivid. Too clear. It was like a movie projector decided to finally start playing, and the feature film was of an early Saturday morning, roughly two or three A.M., and our lead character was boozed up beyond recognition. Our character is wearing a dark blue fleece pullover with tan khakis that appear to be stained with some sort of liquid: it's either a strategically spilled cup of beer, or our devastatingly handsome actor pissed himself. Being supported by a tired looking, chestnut-haired woman who appears to be in her mid-to-late twenties, he appears to be using her for a lot more than just extra balance. The bags under our actress' eyes only show us one aspect of her exhaustion; aside from having to carry in this drunk in to the house, change his clothes and ward off the dozens of people who want to know if he is alright and if he got home safely, all the while being groped and grabbed in all the wrong places by the one person left in this world that she actually loves. Chris. Christ Jenkins. She tosses our hero onto the couch and initiates the task of changing his clothes, which she accomplishes quickly; she ignores the three times he grabbed her breasts and numberous grabbing of her butt. Walking back into the kitchen to close and lock the door for the night, the phone interupts her thoughts for a moment, and instead of picking up the reciever and issuing out a feminine "Hello?", she grabs hold of the phone chord, and pulls. She twangs and snaps of the plastic cracking from the wall are satisfying, in some primal way. Making her way back into the living room, with out hero most likely passed out on the couch, she carries with her a large plush blanket, but upon walking into the living room, finds the couch empty. Frowning, she calls out "Chris? Honey?", and is swept off her feet so quickly her stomach was still in front of the couch as the rest of her body is being hauled up the stairs. "Chris! Chris! What are you doing?! Put me down! God damnit-"
"Don't you ever curse at me like that again...you get me, woman?" [/i]Don'tchoo evir curse at mee like that agin... you git me womin?[/i]
"Honey, please put me down. You're drunk."
"No I'm not!" he hollared as he dropped her at the top of the stairs. Allie didn't like the look on his face, the smell of his breath, or the way he keeps swaying back and forth like that. After hesitating a moment for no real reason, our hero falls on top of our baggy-eyed heroin and begans shuffeling with her clothes.
"Don't you dare-!" The scream was high pitched and frantic. If she didn't get this bufoon off of her...
"Hey, honey," Heeeyy, honay
Chris tossed her onto her stomach with frightening ease. Feeling one hand of his shaky grasp force her shoulders into the floor, and the other one leave her body, Allie began to panic. She felt something warm and fleshy on the small of her back, and in all out desperation, threw her head backwards as hard as she could, and luckily connected with the top Chris' own.
The next day, Chris said he didn't remember anything from about a quarter of ten on, but he wouldn't stop complaining about his "bitchin" headache.
Allie buried this experience deep down into her memory banks, forever hoping that it wouldn't resurface itself in the future.
As our present-day hero lies on the very same couch from which his altered conscious decided to try and rape the one love of his entire life, the tears continue to stream down in hot rivers that burn his face. The memory stopped. If it weren't for the current amount of alochol in his blood stream at this very moment, Chris would have nothing to stop him from walking upstairs, taking out his father's old .357, and repainting his bathroom red.
It took him a minute to realize that someone had been wringing his doorbell for quite some time. Sitting up straight and trying his best to clear his eyes of any evidence of his tears, he walked out into the kitchen after quickly blowing his nose.
To Chris Jenkins, it seemed as if someone was waiting for him behind that door with a double barrel shotgun, itching for the second the door was opened to step up and pull the trigger. Someone had been waiting for him, but the trigger in this case, was a familiar smile and a slim figure that had been all but his, once upon a time. It was at this instant that Chris experienced something very similar, if not exactly the same as what happened to Allie on the highway. Edges blurred, the worlds color melted away and he felt as if he were going to faint.
When he came back around, he was looking at the same person, except she was turned around, and was carrying something in her left arm. She had seen the box of her old things, and was now ready to be on her way. She turned her shoulders and began to take a step, when Chris exhaled quickly and took a small step forward. Allie turned around quickly. The light coming in through the door directly in front of her painted the most beautiful picture - the light flowed off the sides of her face and molded around her hips and breasts, accenting every detail of her figure.
She slowly raised her free right hand, and let her hand fondle the pendant which still hung from her neck. The sunlight flashed off of the ruby, obscuring Chris' vision for not a second, and once he could see again, the door was closed, and she was gone. Gone.
Gone. Chris fell to his knees and began sobbing uncontrolably. This sense of loss was like nothing he'd ever experienced before, through any of the break ups and arguments he'd gone through with his past girlfriends. Not only had he lost the woman whom he planned on marrying, but he'd lost the best friend he'd ever had. The years trust, love, and friendship, forever destroyed in an moment so innocent that it could have been defiled by nothing.
Gone.
No. No -- he wasn't going to have it this way. He wasn't going to live with the fact that he let his girlfriend - his lover - his best friend simply walk out on him, not without letting her know how he felt. Even though he'd told her so many times before, every time they went to bed, every time they left to go to work, every time they hung up the phone after talking with each other -- he needed to tell her that he loved her.
Pushing himself up off his dirty hallway and opening the door in one swift movement, the warm fresh air enveloped his body and filled his lungs with a feeling like no other. Whipping around to his right and barreling down the stairs and turning the corner to see down his driveway -- he saw that she was already pulling out.
Allie was serious. She really ment to leave him, once and for all.
Her cherry red Cavalier kept pulling out, foot after foot, inch after inch.
Sprinting down his driveway as fast as his legs would propel him, the ground between himself and the car now seemed infinitely longer than it really was. He seemed like he were running through water - his actions were slow and clumsy -- he wasn't going to make it. She was going to keep backing up until she reached the road, then she's going to turn around and accelerate into a new life.
"NO!" Taking another breath of the warm air invigorated him; he was closing the distance.
Allie had apparently heard him, because she had turned her head forward after pulling all the way out into the street.
Their eyes met -- locked -- and both of them burst into tears of joy. Chris couldn't stop staring into her eyes. He was no less than 15 feet away from her now.
And Chris wouldn't have stopped staring into those beautiful hazel eyes, but all great things come to an end. Chris hadn't actually realized what had happened until after Allie's car had landed. He couldn't hear her scream.
Looking down his street, Chris was too shocked to react in any way. A semi, one baring Erwin's Trucking Co. on its passenger door had erased Allie's Cavalier, along with everything in it. The truck was trying to come to a halt: its tires screeching in a defening pitch, kicking up dust and billowing out smoke. Pieces of her car where everywhere. Chris even saw shards of the white cardboard box he had used to hold her things.
Chris felt nothing. He was numb from the tips of his fingers to the soles of his feet. The sound of metal grating against metal, rubber screaming against concrete, all seemed muffled and far away. He felt something hit him in his chest, probably some type of debris. Collapsing, he began to shake and sob, but he knew better. Tears would have no healing power over this. Nothing would.
Leaning over onto his side and laying on the ground, the volume of the world became to steadily increase. He heard small popping noises, probably the paint burning off of whatever was left of Allie's (body) car. Time became erratic, speeding up and slowing down as it saw fit. Chris scratched the spot where the debris had hit him. It didn't hurt, it just felt a little funny.
Chris sat up. Tried to wipe his face, but succeeded only in smudging dirt over his face.
He took in a deep breath - and stopped halfway through. His heart exploded in a fury of sadness. He gripped his chest, and he could feel the steady beating gain speed and strength: it was where the debris had hit him. But what had collided with him seconds after losing the one thing he looked forward to in the world wasn't debris at all. It was far, far from it.
Picking up the object and pawing at it gently with his hands, tears created clean rivers of white skin through the dirt that was caked on his face.
A smile broke on his face.
The warm breeze picked up again.
Light reflected off of three thin strands of ruby that encased a small heart-shaped pendant.
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Just looking for some general feedback on this piece. =)