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 Posted: Thu Jul 28, 2016 8:02 pm
Word Count: 554
After it happened, it wasn’t as though Michael tried to avoid talking about what had happened. He suspected he might have liked the opportunity to talk about everything with the grievance counselors, to get their suggestions and guidance on how to continue on living if he had been able to remember enough details to make a difference.
The most he could remember in the following weeks while he was recovering from the injuries he’d sustained was that there had been a crash, and only he and one other officer had survived that day. He read the reports, of course, but it was as if he were reading a work of fiction. His own report was vague and spoke of fire and darkness, but wasn’t very helpful in piecing the events together.
He’d been evaluated at that time and deemed fit to return to duty.
Once he finished the last of his five year obligation as a commissioned officer, and received an honorable discharge, opting to return to civilian life than go back to war.
Pieces of memories came back every so often during that last year, but they seemed more like dreams than anything that could possibly be real. Every so often his dreams were filled with screaming and flames and blood and darkness surrounding him. He would wake in a cold sweat, tears sometimes in his eyes as he tried to make sense of what was going on around him.
All five of the officers involved were awarded purple hearts for their injuries sustained in combat with the declared enemy of the time; three were given posthumously. It was the second one for Michael. A small star was added to the ribbon attached to the medal. Once he returned to civilian life, he tossed it, and the other medals he’d received, into the junk drawer in his kitchen.
He couldn’t bring himself to throw them away, but he also couldn’t bring himself to want to look at them.
It wasn’t until he returned to life as a civilian that the rest of the memories came flooding back. If he were to guess, it was the funeral of the other officer that had survived with him that prompted the sudden wave of emotions to wash over him, to suffocate him to the point where he felt he had no control over his life. He drank in excess and slept around, wanting to distract himself in any way he felt he could. He flirted shamelessly and spoke his mind and spent some time with his younger brothers, wanting them to recall memories of him as someone who was happy and charming.
All the while, he was drowning.
There was no one for him to talk to. No one who could understand. The only person he would have felt comfortable enough to talk to had died in that crash. And it had been his fault they died. He could remember that, now.
It was his fault they all died.
Of course he smiled and laughed when he was around others, and thought about dark, horrible ways to escape when he was alone.
And Michael felt hopelessly alone.
Had a small glass vial not given him another reason to keep living, he didn’t know how much longer he would have been able to hold on.
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Posted: Thu Jul 28, 2016 8:04 pm
Word Count: 733
After leaving Caspian’s house, Michael had a better idea of where he wanted to go to try and escape. Not necessarily from the memories and thoughts that overtook his senses, but escape from pulling those he cared about down with him. Part of him kept wanting to reach out, but he didn’t before, and he wasn’t going to be able to now. Not when he couldn’t even talk about what happened.
He’d always thought about taking his sailboat and leaving. Of just sailing to wherever he could, however fast he could. It was a dangerous path of thought to be on, since sailing almost anywhere beyond what he was most familiar with would take a lot of expert planning and calculations, but right now all he wanted was an escape. It would be easy to just disappear into the horizon.
Unfortunately for him, that plan was shot down immediately after arriving at the docks after the two hour drive. With the size sailboat that he had, she needed at least a day’s notice prior to setting sail. That, and he didn’t have his cellphone with him to even arrange having her brought out for the next day. He supposed he could ask a stranger to borrow their phone, but as he thought about where he would even go, tiny flickers of light dotted the dark thoughts that clouded his mind.
Flecks of light that danced on dark blue walls. Or more like tiny pinpricks of starlight. The expanse of the galaxy above. Memories of the warmth of the moonlight that flooded over him and Caspian as they laid out under the night sky on the bow of his sailboat. Any thoughts of going below deck on that blissfully clear night completely forgotten as they both gazed in awe up at the heavens that stretched out as far as they couldn’t even imagine.
Michael shook his head, his heart already aching as he tried to imagine what Caspian must have been thinking, both that night on the boat with him, and then later when they’d fallen asleep in his room with the sparkling star mobile glittering above them. Soft smiles and warm laughter reached out to him as Michael sat with his legs hanging over the edge of the dock, his shoulder and head resting heavily against one of posts as he stared out across the water.
Caspian was too good for him. Michael had already led him on enough, knowing very well that he would eventually fail him, that he would not be able to keep his promise to open up to him and be the friend that Caspian so desperately needed. To be more than that. Michael’s past failures would always find a way to come back to haunt him. He should have realized this breakdown would happen the moment he started opening up to Caspian that night in the boxcar, and then that morning.
He wanted more, Michael realized.
He wanted to stay by Caspian’s side as long as he could, until that bright flame of joy and energy was able to rekindle itself. Michael knew it was there because he saw it in those deep blue eyes, filled with wonder and hope and pure emotion. They were often guarded, of course, since Caspian, like Michael, must have worked hard to build up walls to protect himself, but there were times those walls came down. Michael saw it happen, only a few times now, but he knew there was much more to this reckless, teasing, airy young man than meets the eye.
Caspian was broken and lost, just like he was, but he knew Caspian would eventually need someone whole who would be able to fill in the pieces; not just bandage them temporarily. Michael would only be able to fill in so many gaps before someone else would have to finish healing Caspian.
It was with that thought that he managed to get back to his feet and return to his car to head back to Destiny City. He couldn’t leave completely, not until he was able to ease Caspian away from him, but he wanted to stay close by until another came. Someone who would be better, someone Caspian deserved. Someone who Caspian was happy with, and someone who was happy, being with Caspian.
Michael knew it wasn’t him, because he didn’t know what happiness felt like.
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Posted: Thu Jul 28, 2016 8:07 pm
Word Count: 878
By the time the third morning rolled around, Peter was just about ready to call mom and dad. It was bad enough that Caspian was probably freaked out over Michael’s sudden disappearance, so Peter didn’t particularly like the idea of mom or dad freaking out as well, but something had to be done. And he supposed they deserved to know that their son was missing.
“Well, they found his car,” Chris told him over the phone the night before, his voice sounding tired and strained. Peter couldn’t help but feel guilty that Chris was doing a lot of the legwork in calling to different places while trying to avoid Paris, and then he had his own problems to deal with, like the lack of energy he suffered from. “It’s been impounded for parking too long at an expired meter, but there doesn’t seem to be any damage, so he wasn’t in a wreck.”
That was good at least, Peter had thought to himself as Chris further explained the other placed he’d contacted with no sign of Michael. No one at local hospitals matched his description, nor did it seem as though he’d been arrested, and, as morbid as it was, there was no notice from the morgue, either.
Waiting was, of course, the hardest part. Peter was determined to stay at home as much as he possibly could, if only to wait and make sure Michael didn’t show back up. That, and he was making sure to keep tabs with Caspian via text, since he’d promised him that he’d let him know if he heard anything. He was sure Caspian was out searching on his own, but it was good to have someone at the place Michael was most likely to return to, just in case.
And then, as if all their worrying and stress was for nothing, it was all over.
Okay, so there was still plenty of reason for worry and stress, but just under seventy-two hours since Michael first left the house, Peter heard the front door open, and in stepped his oldest brother.
“Where the hell have you been?? Do you know how worried we’ve been?? I was just about to call mom and dad!” Peter all but shouted as he rounded the corner to the living room, a mixture of concern and anger and relief over the fact that Michael had been missing for nearly three days and then just decided to show back up like it was nothing??
Peter opened his mouth as Michael slowly shut the door behind him, his back having been towards Peter until then, but as his brother turned around, any words Peter was about to say was caught in his throat.
Other than the fact that Michael had clearly not shaved in the last few days, the things that startled him was how filthy he looked, as if he’d been sleeping in the dirt.
“Is that blood??” Peter gaped as he approached Michael to look him over, eyeing the torn areas of his clothing, and the accompanying dark splotches of dark brownish-red. From the looks of it, there had to have been some kind of scuffle that Michael was clearly involved in. A bar fight? Mugged?? Attacked by the Negaverse??
Somehow he didn’t think Michael would still be standing there if the Negaverse got ahold of him. But from the look of the blood on his shirt and jeans, and his swollen, cut up face, and… and he wasn’t wearing any shoes…
“Why aren’t you wearing shoes??” Peter couldn’t help but ask as he took a step back as Michael staggered into the house, his head down and not seeming to process anything Peter was saying. Okay, so the likelihood that Michael was mugged as probably higher than the other options seeing as he was out, alone in the city, with no car, and no phone.
Peter opened his mouth to say something else, but was suddenly hit with a horrible smell, and quickly threw both his hands onto his face to cover his nose and mouth to prevent himself from gagging.
“s**t, Michael. Did you sleep in a dumpster?? And you reek of alcohol,” he gasped, the words muffled through his hands. Again, Michael didn’t say anything, but he staggered slowly, tiredly through the living room and towards the hall where his bedroom was. Other than looking like s**t in general, Peter could tell that Michael had hit a low point where he probably didn’t expect to get back out, and was most likely only returning home because he had nowhere else to go.
He watched sadly, and somewhat horrified, as his brother who was supposed to be his acting guardian in lieu of their parents, stumbled up against the wall for support, his shoulders heavy as if the weight of the world was on them. Peter couldn’t see his face, but he was sure all emotion had been drained by this point. Michael seemed to be no more than just a walking shell of his once strong, confident brother.
As soon as Michael stumbled into his bedroom, Peter was on his phone, texting the two people he knew would be waiting anxiously for news: Don’t freak out. Michael’s home.
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