Post by anomaly on Feb 5, 2016 21:22:36 GMT
Awake.
What time was it? Chris squinted as he glanced over to the window, the dark drapes revealing nothing. He made a little sound as he shuffled around in his bed to find the clock, it wasn’t on the nightstand. Where the fuck did it go? He muttered a curse under his breath as he shifted closer to the edge of his bed, his hand finding the cord connected to the clock, he slid his fingers down and down until he found the clock itself on the ground.
Chris pulled the clock up and saw it was two in the morning. He had slept the whole day away again, but on the plus side, the hangover seemed to be gone. He flopped onto his back, rubbing his head as he tried to get used to the dark of the room. Should he try to go back to sleep, or get up?
His stomach rumbled in response.
He blinked and wasn’t even sure how to take that, it had been a long time since he had felt hungry. Usually when he ate, it was because he knew it was time to eat – his body needed fuel, not something he wanted, but required. He kicked off the covers, tugging down his shirt as he scooted to swing his legs over the edge of the bed.
He guessed he could eat something.
--
Chris ran a hand through his hair as he stumbled into the living room, blinking his eyes. First, bathroom, he had forgotten to do that when he was out here before. He went toward the bathroom, catching the blinking light on the answering machine – and he hesitated. Should he check the messages or continue to the bathroom? Fuck.
He stopped, only to hit the button on the machine before he walked toward the bathroom, he could hear the machine come to life. It beeped, went through a couple more hang-ups as he flipped on the light, groaning at the brightness. Another click, then he heard a voice, it was a telemarketer; he nodded as he listened to the sales pitch while using the toilet.
The sales pitch ended, then a voice he hadn’t heard in a long time that didn’t sound like a broken record.
“Chris…” A soft sigh, almost a sob, “Christopher..”
He stopped moving, his knees threatened to buckle, he had to throw his hand on the nearby wall to catch his balance.
“Emma?” He croaked out in disbelief.
--
He stood there, his boxers around his ankles, one hand on the wall, another gripping the back of his toilet. He waited for more, but nothing more came, the machine whirred and ended the call. A robotic voice announced that there were no more messages left. Then silence came crashing around him again, it was louder than anything else he had experienced. Once he felt like his knees wouldn’t give out anymore, he pushed his hand off the toilet, removed his hand off the wall and pulled his boxers up. “What the…” He murmured softly, jumping slightly as he broke the silence.
He turned around and looked at himself in the mirror.
“Buddy, you look like shit,” he murmured the words Emma would always tell him, especially after a long hunt for him, or a long shift for her at the hospital.
He shook his head as he left the bathroom, switching off the light behind him. He went over to the answering machine, ready to replay the answering machine, but it told him there were no messages at all. Which was bullshit, he had seen there were messages, Emma’s voice had been there.
He uttered another expletive.
Then his stomach growled.
Split between finding the answers and feeding himself, he opted to feed himself. Emma would want that. He lunched off to the refridgerator, what did he have anyway? When he opened the door, the question was answered: nothing. He could cook with some eggs – that he was pretty damn sure had expired – and… beer.
--
A laugh came bubbling up behind him, it was a whisper out of nowhere – so full of life and light. Chris banged his knee in the fridge door as he whirled around, “Fuck!” He rubbed at his knee while trying to find that source of sound. He shifted a couple steps to his left to the nearest drawer, he had a couple daggers tucked away; one iron.
“Who the hell is it?” He held the dagger in front of him, squinting in the dark while the fridge cast a meager glow in the room.
The laugh came again, then faded, the notes echoing almost.
He stood there for what felt like forever, the dagger in front of him, breathing heavily. He knew that laugh, but there was no fucking way it could be her. He had made sure all her possessions were cremated along with her body; he had the ashes in an urn on the mantel.
“Emma?” He whispered again.
He must be delirious, he finally concluded as the dagger wavered in front of him, from hunger and sleeping too long. He turned to put the dagger away and close the door before switching on the overhead kitchen light, groaning again at the light. A shake of his head, he had nothing to eat, he was delirious, he’d have to go in to town to grab something from Kelley’s.
… Which meant putting on clothes.
--
Rubbing at his knee one more time, he went to the bedroom to throw on jeans and a hoodie, muttering things about how he must be losing it. That laugh had been Emma’s, but maybe it was something else; he knew that some of the monsters out there could imitate people so well that you couldn’t even tell that it was a monster.
A shake of his head, he rubbed at his face, he would have to just let it go and get some food. Maybe later he’d call the boys and see if there was any progress on Emma’s case. He might as well check if he was hearing things and thinking about her again.
He left his room, grabbed his wallet and keys, jumped in his old beat-up truck and let it start up. As it roared to life, he let it warm up a bit in the cold. He flicked on the headlights and exhaled slowly.
It was a flicker, almost something out of the corner of his eyes, a form with dark hair and those eyes…
One of his hands darted out to the door, opening and throwing it as he jumped out. “Emma?!” He yelled as he looked around for her, she wasn’t there anymore. He ran around the front of the truck to where he had seen her last. No cold spots, well, colder than the cold outside. “Emma?” He spoke softly, his voice breaking as he stood there, hands at his sides.
--
His eyes scanned the darkness beyond the beams, not seeing what he had seen – or thought he had seen. It had been her, he would know her anywhere; even after a year he would still know her anywhere – he hadn’t forgotten a detail. Those details had been jealously guarded in his memory, he had drank in all the memories of the friends that had known Emma before cutting all ties. The only ties he couldn’t cut were the brothers, and a couple of Emma’s former co-workers.
Chris rubbed his hands on his legs, shaking his head, he was fucking losing it.
He walked slowly, dragging his feet as he went back around his truck and climbed in. He patted his pockets, he had forgotten his cell which made him grimace a bit before remembering he had a couple cells tucked away in the glovebox. He leaned over to grab one of them, straightening up before he turned it on. As his thumb scrolled through the contacts, he found the right one.
The phone rang a couple times before a recorded message played, “Dean, it’s Chris.” He paused, hesistating, not sure what he should say. Hey, it’s me, I’m fucking up out here. “Just… call me when you can. I gotta see you.” He ended the call, putting the truck in drive after he threw the phone in the seat next to him.
He turned on the radio, nodding his head as some music from the local radio spilled over the airwaves. He rolled slowly down his driveway before joining the main highway.
--
The music switched as he rode along, it went from some current rock song to a song from his past, it was a song that Emma insisted was The Song. He had gone with it at the time because, well, anything to make her happy. Now, it really was The Song – he had played it on repeat for weeks after her death. He hadn’t listened to it for a while now.
He wanted to pull over and close his eyes, but opted not to, it wouldn’t be safe to just do it now. He probably would never get back on the road again if he did. A horn blared behind him, he jumped, pressing his foot down on the pedal to pick up speed. The song changed to another one of Emma’s favorites. He finally decided to turn it off after another song after that, it was killing him to have to listen to all those songs he hadn’t heard in… It felt like ages now – a contradiction because it felt like he had just found out yesterday, but it felt like forever without her.
It was a quiet ride to Kelley’s, a few cars were there at the time of the night; two trucks parked in the back. He figured the truckers were grabbing shut-eye, which made him intensely jealous for a moment before he rolled his shoulders, coasting into a parking spot in front of the diner.
The lights were still blazing, he could see into the restaurant. It was medium-sized, yet cozy with various pictures of cars and people that had gone through. He could see some license plates lining one wall. With a slow breath, he got out, closing the door behind him before he went toward the door. He looked over his shoulder, scanning the surroundings one more time before entering the diner.
“Christopher!” A woman wearing a bit too much make-up and her hair piled on top of her head cooed, holding her arms out for a hug.
--
He managed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “hey Nan,” he walked over into her arms, giving her a bear-hug in exchange for one of hers. “You still got some of the coconut cream pie?” He looked down at her before letting go, patting at his stomach. “I forgot to go shopping.”
Nan gave him a look of consternation, “you always forget! You should give me a list and I’ll send one of the girls up for you. I’ve got some girls that I send out to do errands for people around here.” She smiled at him, pointing him to a table, she had dubbed it Chris’ table when he first starting coming into the diner. It was in the corner, his back to two walls, he could see everything happening. “Sit, sit.” She paused, grabbing a menu near her, “here you go. Read.”
Chris laughed, it had been surprised out of him, “thank you.” He took the menu from her, moving to his table. He dropped down into the booth, “could you bring me the pie first?” He called out, chuckling as he saw Nan wave her hand around in answer. He looked down to the menu, he really didn’t need to read it, he had memorized the menu by now. Hell, even Nan knew his usual.
--
“Thanks,” he flashed her a grin, it was a genuine one, as she put down a piece of pie in front of him; maybe this really was a much better decision than he had originally thought. He took a bite and groaned in pleasure, “you have to include a whole pie when you send your girl up to me.”
Nan rolled her eyes and swatted his shoulder, “so leave me a list and I’ll have it taken care of.” She already knew exactly who to send. She pulled a notepad out of her apron, taking a pen out of her hair, “here you go.” She put it down in front of him, “everything. Well, not beer.”
He rolled his eyes at her, “you can’t expect me to stay dry.”
Nan smacked his shoulder again, laughing as he groaned.
“Now, eat. You want the usual?”
“Yeah,” he nodded as he looked at her, “thanks Nan.”
“No problem,” she smiled brightly, turning away to strut behind the doors into the kitchen.
What time was it? Chris squinted as he glanced over to the window, the dark drapes revealing nothing. He made a little sound as he shuffled around in his bed to find the clock, it wasn’t on the nightstand. Where the fuck did it go? He muttered a curse under his breath as he shifted closer to the edge of his bed, his hand finding the cord connected to the clock, he slid his fingers down and down until he found the clock itself on the ground.
Chris pulled the clock up and saw it was two in the morning. He had slept the whole day away again, but on the plus side, the hangover seemed to be gone. He flopped onto his back, rubbing his head as he tried to get used to the dark of the room. Should he try to go back to sleep, or get up?
His stomach rumbled in response.
He blinked and wasn’t even sure how to take that, it had been a long time since he had felt hungry. Usually when he ate, it was because he knew it was time to eat – his body needed fuel, not something he wanted, but required. He kicked off the covers, tugging down his shirt as he scooted to swing his legs over the edge of the bed.
He guessed he could eat something.
--
Chris ran a hand through his hair as he stumbled into the living room, blinking his eyes. First, bathroom, he had forgotten to do that when he was out here before. He went toward the bathroom, catching the blinking light on the answering machine – and he hesitated. Should he check the messages or continue to the bathroom? Fuck.
He stopped, only to hit the button on the machine before he walked toward the bathroom, he could hear the machine come to life. It beeped, went through a couple more hang-ups as he flipped on the light, groaning at the brightness. Another click, then he heard a voice, it was a telemarketer; he nodded as he listened to the sales pitch while using the toilet.
The sales pitch ended, then a voice he hadn’t heard in a long time that didn’t sound like a broken record.
“Chris…” A soft sigh, almost a sob, “Christopher..”
He stopped moving, his knees threatened to buckle, he had to throw his hand on the nearby wall to catch his balance.
“Emma?” He croaked out in disbelief.
--
He stood there, his boxers around his ankles, one hand on the wall, another gripping the back of his toilet. He waited for more, but nothing more came, the machine whirred and ended the call. A robotic voice announced that there were no more messages left. Then silence came crashing around him again, it was louder than anything else he had experienced. Once he felt like his knees wouldn’t give out anymore, he pushed his hand off the toilet, removed his hand off the wall and pulled his boxers up. “What the…” He murmured softly, jumping slightly as he broke the silence.
He turned around and looked at himself in the mirror.
“Buddy, you look like shit,” he murmured the words Emma would always tell him, especially after a long hunt for him, or a long shift for her at the hospital.
He shook his head as he left the bathroom, switching off the light behind him. He went over to the answering machine, ready to replay the answering machine, but it told him there were no messages at all. Which was bullshit, he had seen there were messages, Emma’s voice had been there.
He uttered another expletive.
Then his stomach growled.
Split between finding the answers and feeding himself, he opted to feed himself. Emma would want that. He lunched off to the refridgerator, what did he have anyway? When he opened the door, the question was answered: nothing. He could cook with some eggs – that he was pretty damn sure had expired – and… beer.
--
A laugh came bubbling up behind him, it was a whisper out of nowhere – so full of life and light. Chris banged his knee in the fridge door as he whirled around, “Fuck!” He rubbed at his knee while trying to find that source of sound. He shifted a couple steps to his left to the nearest drawer, he had a couple daggers tucked away; one iron.
“Who the hell is it?” He held the dagger in front of him, squinting in the dark while the fridge cast a meager glow in the room.
The laugh came again, then faded, the notes echoing almost.
He stood there for what felt like forever, the dagger in front of him, breathing heavily. He knew that laugh, but there was no fucking way it could be her. He had made sure all her possessions were cremated along with her body; he had the ashes in an urn on the mantel.
“Emma?” He whispered again.
He must be delirious, he finally concluded as the dagger wavered in front of him, from hunger and sleeping too long. He turned to put the dagger away and close the door before switching on the overhead kitchen light, groaning again at the light. A shake of his head, he had nothing to eat, he was delirious, he’d have to go in to town to grab something from Kelley’s.
… Which meant putting on clothes.
--
Rubbing at his knee one more time, he went to the bedroom to throw on jeans and a hoodie, muttering things about how he must be losing it. That laugh had been Emma’s, but maybe it was something else; he knew that some of the monsters out there could imitate people so well that you couldn’t even tell that it was a monster.
A shake of his head, he rubbed at his face, he would have to just let it go and get some food. Maybe later he’d call the boys and see if there was any progress on Emma’s case. He might as well check if he was hearing things and thinking about her again.
He left his room, grabbed his wallet and keys, jumped in his old beat-up truck and let it start up. As it roared to life, he let it warm up a bit in the cold. He flicked on the headlights and exhaled slowly.
It was a flicker, almost something out of the corner of his eyes, a form with dark hair and those eyes…
One of his hands darted out to the door, opening and throwing it as he jumped out. “Emma?!” He yelled as he looked around for her, she wasn’t there anymore. He ran around the front of the truck to where he had seen her last. No cold spots, well, colder than the cold outside. “Emma?” He spoke softly, his voice breaking as he stood there, hands at his sides.
--
His eyes scanned the darkness beyond the beams, not seeing what he had seen – or thought he had seen. It had been her, he would know her anywhere; even after a year he would still know her anywhere – he hadn’t forgotten a detail. Those details had been jealously guarded in his memory, he had drank in all the memories of the friends that had known Emma before cutting all ties. The only ties he couldn’t cut were the brothers, and a couple of Emma’s former co-workers.
Chris rubbed his hands on his legs, shaking his head, he was fucking losing it.
He walked slowly, dragging his feet as he went back around his truck and climbed in. He patted his pockets, he had forgotten his cell which made him grimace a bit before remembering he had a couple cells tucked away in the glovebox. He leaned over to grab one of them, straightening up before he turned it on. As his thumb scrolled through the contacts, he found the right one.
The phone rang a couple times before a recorded message played, “Dean, it’s Chris.” He paused, hesistating, not sure what he should say. Hey, it’s me, I’m fucking up out here. “Just… call me when you can. I gotta see you.” He ended the call, putting the truck in drive after he threw the phone in the seat next to him.
He turned on the radio, nodding his head as some music from the local radio spilled over the airwaves. He rolled slowly down his driveway before joining the main highway.
--
The music switched as he rode along, it went from some current rock song to a song from his past, it was a song that Emma insisted was The Song. He had gone with it at the time because, well, anything to make her happy. Now, it really was The Song – he had played it on repeat for weeks after her death. He hadn’t listened to it for a while now.
He wanted to pull over and close his eyes, but opted not to, it wouldn’t be safe to just do it now. He probably would never get back on the road again if he did. A horn blared behind him, he jumped, pressing his foot down on the pedal to pick up speed. The song changed to another one of Emma’s favorites. He finally decided to turn it off after another song after that, it was killing him to have to listen to all those songs he hadn’t heard in… It felt like ages now – a contradiction because it felt like he had just found out yesterday, but it felt like forever without her.
It was a quiet ride to Kelley’s, a few cars were there at the time of the night; two trucks parked in the back. He figured the truckers were grabbing shut-eye, which made him intensely jealous for a moment before he rolled his shoulders, coasting into a parking spot in front of the diner.
The lights were still blazing, he could see into the restaurant. It was medium-sized, yet cozy with various pictures of cars and people that had gone through. He could see some license plates lining one wall. With a slow breath, he got out, closing the door behind him before he went toward the door. He looked over his shoulder, scanning the surroundings one more time before entering the diner.
“Christopher!” A woman wearing a bit too much make-up and her hair piled on top of her head cooed, holding her arms out for a hug.
--
He managed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “hey Nan,” he walked over into her arms, giving her a bear-hug in exchange for one of hers. “You still got some of the coconut cream pie?” He looked down at her before letting go, patting at his stomach. “I forgot to go shopping.”
Nan gave him a look of consternation, “you always forget! You should give me a list and I’ll send one of the girls up for you. I’ve got some girls that I send out to do errands for people around here.” She smiled at him, pointing him to a table, she had dubbed it Chris’ table when he first starting coming into the diner. It was in the corner, his back to two walls, he could see everything happening. “Sit, sit.” She paused, grabbing a menu near her, “here you go. Read.”
Chris laughed, it had been surprised out of him, “thank you.” He took the menu from her, moving to his table. He dropped down into the booth, “could you bring me the pie first?” He called out, chuckling as he saw Nan wave her hand around in answer. He looked down to the menu, he really didn’t need to read it, he had memorized the menu by now. Hell, even Nan knew his usual.
--
“Thanks,” he flashed her a grin, it was a genuine one, as she put down a piece of pie in front of him; maybe this really was a much better decision than he had originally thought. He took a bite and groaned in pleasure, “you have to include a whole pie when you send your girl up to me.”
Nan rolled her eyes and swatted his shoulder, “so leave me a list and I’ll have it taken care of.” She already knew exactly who to send. She pulled a notepad out of her apron, taking a pen out of her hair, “here you go.” She put it down in front of him, “everything. Well, not beer.”
He rolled his eyes at her, “you can’t expect me to stay dry.”
Nan smacked his shoulder again, laughing as he groaned.
“Now, eat. You want the usual?”
“Yeah,” he nodded as he looked at her, “thanks Nan.”
“No problem,” she smiled brightly, turning away to strut behind the doors into the kitchen.