Nothing Can Keep Us Apart. [angelicxdream and shinyka]

[angelicxdream]

It all happened so fast. One minute she was having dinner and being proposed to, the next, well.. she didn't exactly know where she was. She knew her whole body hurt. She clutched her head, wincing as light streamed through a window. She laid in bed, someone's bed, she didn't really remember where she was. The sheets were white. The walls were white. Nurses were running back and forth, trying to get everything done. Oh. A hospital. Why was she in a hospital? She took out every wire that was plugged into her body. She walked out of the hospital, not wearing anything but an ugly hospital gown, and began to walk.

She didn't know where she was walking. But, finally, she had found a townhouse. It felt familiar, so as she walked in with her dirty, bare feet, she surveyed her surroundings and realized that she had been here before. She didn't know why. Deja vu was killing her. Why didn't she know? Every picture in that house was a picture of her with some guy that she didn't know. She read the bottom of the frame. Emily and Eric. So, that was her name? Emily? The mail that sat on top of the wooden desk even read their names. That was weird.

 

[shinyka]

"A whole little merry party", Eric mocked, aware that they were afraid of him. With a cackle, he grabbed one of the beer bottles out of the over-stuffed cooler and yanked the cap off with one hand. Shooting a menacing stare, he took a sip from it, the tip coming directly into contact with his painted black lips, before he pulled the bottle away from his mouth. Laughing like a maniac, he turned the bottle upside down, pouring it's contents all over the couch that several of the party goers were on, causing them to flinch. He was especially happy to see the expression on Mark Steepak's face, one of sheer terror.

Laughing and shaking his head, Eric grabbed a second bottle, this time dumping its contents all over the floor, causing a rather large puddle to spill all over the shag carpet. He took a second and pressed down on the carpet, causing some of the cheap booze to rise up, and spill over even more carpet, making the alcohol infested stain even larger. He once again shot a look to Mark, glee rising in his non-beating heart when he saw that Mark was obviously afraid of him. Finally, content, Eric shoved him down, causing him to hit the soaked floor just a short ways from where he was standing.

Shaking his head in near disgust, Eric approached the high-light of the evening, a large metal keg set up on one of the car tables decorating this flat. Silently, he grabbed the nozzle and yanked it off, showing strength that wasn't his at all. It was obvious that the recently gleeful alcoholics had been putting a lot of effort into emptying it, yet there was still plenty of beer left in it, or at least, enough to be a fire hazard, which was what Eric wanted. He began to muster a laugh as he watched it's contents empty onto the floor, his cackling intimidating the drunks even more, to the point that one man, looking barely over 21 or so began crying. Eric ignored him and watched as the last of the massive quantity of booze emptied onto the now soaked shag carpet.

Eric turned to face Mark one last time. He was now on the floor, writhing in agony from where Eric had dropped him, no doubt also troubled by the black eye and broken ribs that Eric had given him when he had first busted into this Friday-night party. It pleased Eric to see Mark, one who had caused him so much pain, to be in pain himself. Yet, no amount of hurt he could ever inflict on Mark would ever come close to what Mark and his three other friends had taken away from him. Although now, Mark was going to join David, who Eric had found just three days before. With a shake of his head, he kicked Mark a few time, adding even more pain to his already massive agony. He was careful not to knock him out though, he wanted him to be awake for what was about to happen.

Smiling, Eric held Mark still for a second, putting a stop to his agonized writhe. Calmly and quietly, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from the chest pocket of Mark's stained button up shirt. Mark began to open his mouth, but Eric quickly his finger over Mark's lips, smile with his black lips before getting to his feet. Eric fumbled around in the pocket of his white-trimmed black coat, before pulling out a small Zippo Lighter. Walking with a slight anxious spring in his step, he approached the window, peering down at the three story fall off the balcony and onto the cement parking lot below. Quietly, he opened the sliding glass door and took a step onto the balcony.

Eric held the stolen cigarette aloof, before lighting it with his red lighter. He watched a small quantity of smoke leave the exit, before he turned around, flicking the still-lit smoke into Mark's booze stained apartment. The effect was almost instant. The alcohol coating the walls, floors and people ignited quickly, turning the apartment into a blazing inferno. He began to laugh, watching the drunks try to get to the door, only to stop when they saw the booze-coated door knob ignite.

"You're all going to die", Eric said calmly but loudly, loudly enough for everyone inside to hear him over the screaming and cursing. With one final laugh, Eric hopped up on the edge of the balcony and jumped off the side. He savored the fall, as it gave him an almost weightless feel. He was sure to close his eyes for when he hit the ground, as the sight of colliding was never a pleasant one. A second later, he heard a loud crunch, accompanied with a sharp pain. Eric shrugged as he got back to his feet, the pain subsiding as his wounds healed themselves, easing the pain and making walking possible again. With one final glance over his shoulder, he caught whiff of the burning booze and sight of the flaming apartment. Eric managed a laugh as he faded into the darkness, walking silently and unseen on the walk back to what used to be his house

"Two out of four", he said, softly and with a twinge of pain.

His old townhouse soon came into view, a once beautiful home that had fallen apart when nobody was around to take care of it. Eric took a step over the knocked over FOR SALE sign, and opened the since broken door, and began his ascent up to the loft, the room he now inhabited that he was alive again.

 

[angelicxdream]

Emily was sitting on the edge of bed, not hearing that someone had came inside. She was in her own little world. "Emily. Emily. Hi, my name is Emily." She scrunched up her nose, shaking her head. That sounded weird. She laid back on the abandoned bed, her fingers combing through her delicate chestnut hair that was slightly wavy. She blushed, and despite it all, she wanted to see what was in the apartment. She knew she was being nosy, but she couldn't hear her heart. Had she died? Would she ever die again? She couldn't even remember death. She just remembered being rudely awakened from her sleep. Her feet were still dirty. Still caked with dirt, and as she squinted closer, she realized she had stepped in glass. Broken beer bottle pieces, she pulled them off, and seeing blood stain her toes, she waited for the pain to greet her. Feeling nothing, she looked down and gasped, her wounds were healing.

Why wasn't her heart beating? Why didn't she have a pulse? Why was she wearing an engagement ring? She looked in the mirror. Why was she so pale? She felt her skin, and realized, it was cold, and hard. Her lips were stained red, blood red. It made her mouth stand out. It was winter. Why wasn't she cold? Well, her skin was. But she couldn't feel anything. Oh right. She was curious. She ventured into the room, opening the wooden closet, careful not to break anything. She didn't find anything interesting. T-shirts, dress shirt, leather shoes, dress pants, jeans... nothing of interest. Behind all the male clothes, she found a dress. Not just any dress. A wedding dress? It was strapless, and white, and full of lace. It was so beautiful. But, she was careful not to touch the actual fabric. There was a plastic sheet covering it, and she just touched it through that. She wasn't even supposed to be here.

But, she didn't want to leave either. She felt so connected to this place. She walked back to the bed, and laid on it. But, everything in the house looked so.. barren, empty and it was all covered in dust. She knew that if she was alive, she would've complained. But now, she felt empty. Just like the house. She didn't know what was missing. At least she was alive. Well, sort of. She didn't feel alive. She felt dead. But, she wasn't dead. What was wrong with her? She looked at her left hand, at her beautiful ring, and took it off. Not permanently, but just to look at it. And to her surprise, she found an engraving. Eric and Emily. The same names on the mail. She reached for a letter, and confirmed it. it even had the same last name that was on the letter. Placing it down, she breathed heavily. What was going on?

She felt so alone. She looked outside, night had casted its spell on the small town, and wondered if the owner would come back soon. Or, if he had died. Or, she. She didn't know the gender of the owner. But, wait.. why did the owner have her mail? And, why did the owner have her name on the pictures? This was so confusing. She wanted answers. And, she wanted them now. And, she had no clothes. Great. So, she was stuck in this hideous hospital gown until she could go into town and buy some. The shops were probably already closing. And, she didn't have any money. And, everyone would probably run away at the sight of her. She was... a freak. She didn't belong here. She just knew she belonged in the house, but everywhere else.. she was an outcast.

Freezing, she realized that someone was going upstairs. And, she was upstairs. At least she knew she couldn't die. And, she wanted to be here so desperately. Hopefully, they wouldn't take away that right. So, she just sat on the bed, clutching her hands close. She looked down at the ground, breathing heavily. Was she breathing? She didn't have a pulse. She didn't have a pulse. She braced for it. The screaming, the yelling, but she wouldn't move. So, they would have to pick her up and throw her out on their own. And, she hoped she was heavy enough so they wouldn't be able to lift her. Or maybe they'd be too old, they couldn't pick up anything that was larger than a chair. Yes, she had hope by her side.

 

[shinyka]

The faded wooden finish on the stairs creaked beneath Eric's black boots as he made his way up the second flight of stairs. His pale hand gripped the banister, not because he was worried about falling, but because he enjoyed the simple feeling of his pale hand running up the slightly worn wood. The stairwell was dark, but Eric needed no light. Perhaps this was another effect of his rebirth, as since he had awoken again he had been able to see perfectly in the dark like it was light. A small splinter hit his hand, causing him to grunt for a second before slowing his pace a few steps and pulling it out. The injury healed instantly, and Eric found himself wondering if he would have enjoyed having this lack of feeling in life as well as death. He pondered it for a second, before shaking his head. If he couldn't feel, he couldn't love Emily, and if he couldn't love her, what was the point in walking up these stairs? If he didn't care for her, why didn't he just sit down on these very stairs until he was lifeless again? He shuddered before resuming his slow, pondering pace up the seemingly endless flight of stairs.

Eric paused as he heard a slight movement in the next room. He stood still, not moving, not even breathing, as he was trying to identify the noise. He shook his head for a second. He could tell little more then the fact that someone was in the room, trying to stay quiet. Eric didn't mind much. In his current condition, a home meant little more then food or drink. Yet, he still felt an attachment to the place, as if it were an old friend he was reluctant to let go of. It pained him slightly to see it in such condition, but he remembered it couldn't be helped. Nobody was going to look after a house belonging to a dead couple, and here, people would very happily move out on a second's notice, not move in.

Eric resumed his pace up the stairs, before another thought him him. Emily. Her dress had been in that room, hadn't it? Even though it meant little now, Eric felt his pulsing faster then ever before when he thought of someone in his room, touching Emily's things. All previous thoughts of sharing and decency vanished when Emily came into mind. With a howl, Eric sprinted up the stairs, eager to tear anyone who dared disrespect Emily's objects to shreds. "No, tearing them to shreds isn't painful enough ", Eric thought as he hopped up the flight of stairs, each one creaking before his swift pace and solid black boots.

With a howl, Eric tore open the door, almost ripping it off of its hinges. His eyes surveyed the room erratically. His attention first came to the broken beer bottles on the ground. He cursed, angry that the room that he and Emily had once called a home had been disrespected at one point or another. Then, his eyes drifted to her. Emily.

Eric felt his knees grow weak. The angry expression he had on his face faded, replaced with a blank stare. This girl looked so much like her, it could be her twin. No, more then her twin, it could be her clone. Just one sight at her brought it all back to him, the dinner, how she had laughed when he presented the ring, said yes, then the two kissed. The car, driving erratically, the sirens and lights, showing up just a little too late. Eric dropped to his knees, a slight murmur leaving his black lips, but not much else.

No, she couldn't be here. He was the only one, wasn't he?

 

[angelicxdream]

Emily was startled at the fierce sound, the howl. She nearly jumped out of her seat on the bed, staring at the intruder. Well, she was the intruder. She wondered if this man was the owner or knew the owner. He probably was the owner with a reaction that strong. "I'm Emily. I-I'm sorry for trespassing. I was just so.. drawn to this house. Your house. Please don't make me leave. " Her voice broke, intimidated by his howl, thinking he was angry. She didn't realize he wasn't angry anymore until she looked into his eyes. That was her first mistake. She looked into those beautiful eyes, and was sworn she was drowning. Blushing, she turned away. She didn't know this person's name. She clutched onto the thin fabric of the hospital gown she was wearing, her body shaking. She didn't know why he had such an effect on her. When he fell onto the floor, she let out a gasp. She didn't understand, she didn't normally care that much about strangers, so why was he different?

She hurried over to him, her chestnut hair falling over her slender shoulders. She placed his head on her lap, hesitant as she ran her fingers through his locks of hair. She carressed his forehead with her cool fingertips, whispering in a small voice, "Are you alright? Sir?" She didn't know what to do, racking her brain for some kind of procedure that would help her in a time like this. She wasn't a nurse, or a doctor. His eyes, they looked so empty. He looked like he was going to faint.

Wait. What the hell was she doing? Why was she being so affectionate? This man, he probably wanted her out of his house. His house. Not her house. But, she wanted to stay here. This was so confusing. She didn't even know if her name was Emily. "I'm.. just trying to find out answers. You know, what my life was like. I mean, is like." She blushed, slipping up. She hoped he wouldn't notice, she didn't really know how to explain that she wasn't part of this world. That.. she had died. She had a sheet over her head, she had been a patient at the hospital, she had died. She saw the hospital report on the desk in her room. She didn't understand why she was still here, still alive. To some extent. Her heart wasn't beating.

"If you could just tell me, that would be so wonderful." She spoke softly, pulling her hands away from him. She realized it was inappropriate to be so concerned over a stranger. He would be so suspicious why she cared so much. She was being too affectionate. She went into the bathroom, and dipped a white cloth in warm water. She drained most of the excess, and placed it on his head, hoping he wouldn't faint, and that he'd be alright. She patted it, and took his hand, ignoring the sparks of chemistry that seemed to arise. "Here. Put your hand over your head, and hold that there. It'll make you feel better. You look like you are in shock over something.."

She didn't know what else to say or do. Once he had a steady grip on the damp cloth, she retreated back to her place on the bed. She looked up at him expectantly, hoping that he'd answer her request, and tell her something. He had to know something. She was in every picture in his house. And, if he didn't tell her, and give in, she wouldn't leave. She couldn't make herself leave either way. She was just so attached to this place. Even if it was dirty, and because it was clogged up in dust, she was starting to cough a little.

 

[shinyka]

The next few moments danced by Eric in mere eye blinks. He was not sure of he blacked out or not, but could not quite tell what kind of state he was in. He felt like there was something welling up inside him, like his grief, sorrow and anger had become physical bodies and were now ravaging him slowly from the inside. He writhed a bit, his agony soon replaced by grief, and then by longing, longing to see Emily again. He found himself lightly murmuring her name to himself, his tone soon becoming hushed under his now heavy breathing. Soon, he found himself quieting down and slumping to the floor, a near lifeless mess of emotion and thought. "It can't be her. She's dead. But I'm dead. Can it be her?" he found himself thinking unintelligibly over and over again in his mind. Finally, his breathing slowed as he regained control of his now stress weakened body. He turned his head slightly to observe where Emily had vanished to. Much to his relief, he saw her feet reappear, stepping over the broken glass like it was of no concern at all. He let out a small sigh of relief, taking solace in the fact she, or at least her look-alike, was still there, and had no ran off upon seeing him loose control of himself.

A warm feeling soon seized control of his consciousness. Eric breathed out a small sigh of content as he felt the warm feeling of a damp cloth grace his forehead, wiping away some of his loosely applied white makeup. Eric paid no attention to this, but instead opted only to focus on the warm feeling, and he soon found control of his previously limp body returning to him. With a bit of a grunt, he wriggled his left hand to ensure he had indeed regained control of himself, and breathed a sigh of relief when he confirmed he still could move, and had not yet once again fallen into the cold abyss of death that he had been pulled out of once before. With another sigh, he turned to face the girl, the one who looked so very much like his dead love to the point he could have sworn it was her, and not some impostor or the like.

"Impossible", he let out slowly, his breathing now controlled and on tempo yet shallow and reserved, betraying his newly squired weak spell. "Y-you died..", he managed to let out before turning slightly, to ensure he got a better look at her. The moment her eyes met his, he felt another wave of uncontrolled thought wash over him, ripping through his every being. Those eyes were the exact same as Emily's the day she died. Full of fear and contempt for passing to the next world, yet still full of her normal liveliness and love, a trait Eric had always found himself adoring in her. Those eyes, the ones that stared at him from bathe the mangled wreck of his car, the ones that stared at him with a sense of impending loss and doom. Yet those eyes, which also carried awe inspiring love and grace, those eyes that Eric would find himself near transfixed by. Those eyes, which had been the last thing he had seen on that fateful day.

Just thinking about the day brought back all sorts of erratic memories; the screeching of car tires, the one second where it seemed he had an entire world pressed against him. Although it was cold outside, Eric could feel the warm tarmac road and the slightly hot metal fragments of his car burning against his pale skin. With a howl, he threw himself at the ground, striking it with his fists in rage. Yet, even then, the memories continued to haunt him. The light instructional conversation carried between the paramedics, the feel of his limp body being lifted onto a cushioned stretcher. The pale mummer of "Trista..." that managed to escape his lips before his mind faded to black a final time.

Then came newer memories. The memories of just three days ago when he had felt a slight jot of warmth again. The memory of opening his eyes again for the first time in almost three and a half years. The strange feeling that laying on the cold ground at the foot of his gravestone had given him, shortly followed by the odd sensation of separating his fingers from the stitched binding that held them together. He let out a tiny whimper before pushing himself back to his back again, resuming his silent mourning while staring at the deteriorating ceiling. With one last sigh, he turned to face the girl again.

"I-in the closet, you'll find a w-wedding dress...", he manged to let out, feeling some of his former strength return to him. "P-please l-let me see you in I-it", he let out slowly. He wondered if this person was indeed Emily, in the same condition he was in, cursed and reborn. With another series of raspy breaths, he wondered if it was indeed Emily, as seemingly no other person would ever cause him to go into an emotional and physical wreck like he had.

 

[angelicxdream]

Emily had patted his forehead down, and once she saw bits of white powder, she frowned. He was wearing make-up? That was strange. His skin was so smooth underneath. It would be a shame to cover that in make-up. Instead of stopping there, she had wiped down his entire face in long, full strokes with her warm cloth, dipping it warm water occassionally when the cloth got too dirty to use. She continued until his whole face was wiped clean of make-up. She took a deep breath, and concentrated on his full mouth, her lips parted, and gently wiped the cloth softly against his lips, noticing her cloth darken with a black shade, and said quietly, "Sir? You shouldn't wear make-up. I mean, you don't need to." She was hoping he would have forgotten about kicking her out by now.

He didn't seem like he was in the right mind to answer her questions. She wondered why. By now, she realized it was getting dark. She wondered if he could be so cruel as to send a young lady outside at night without any money or anything. But, even if he gave her money, she wouldn't want it. She just wanted to stay in this room, in this house. She looked up at him again, noticing that his eyes seemed off, like they were in a world of their own. She let him keep to herself. She wasn't going to be a rude visitor and demand that he answer her questions. Why he had her possessions, why he had so many pictures of her, why he had her mail, and why he wasn't answering any of her questions.

Once he echoed that she had died, she gasped. So, he did know something. Yes, she had died. But, how could she explain it? He would surely ship her off to the nearest mental instution. When she woke up, it was like she had slept for a long time, as if.. she wasn't supposed to wake up. But, when the sun had graced her with its light, she knew that she had a purpose here. "Yes, I did die. But now, I'm here. And, I don't know how to explain it." She said quietly, hoping that her quiet voice was quiet enough so he couldn't hear but that he could notice that she was indeed uncomfortable with the situation. Once he was done with the cloth, she walked back to the bathroom to clean it, and hung it up to dry where the towels usually hung.

She heard him request that she try on a wedding dress, the wedding dress she had already seen. She blushed when he gave her directions, feeling ashamed that she had already went through his things without telling him. She had already trespassed into his land, into his things. She quietly nodded. It was the least she could do after she had trespassed into his house. For some reason, she felt a connection to this man. She didn't feel shy that she would be changing in front of him. It was as if she knew him. She opened the door to the closet, and opened it, gently taking out the hanger that held the plastic cover and the beautiful lace gown underneath. "It's very beautiful." She said, looking into his beautiful eyes. But, she didn't know him! She shook her head, and slide off her hospital gown. She hadn't been wearing a bra, and only black laced underwear prevented him from seeing what she looked like naked. Her back faced him, so he couldn't see her breasts at this angle. If he moved her however, then he could see more. But from here, he could only see the curve of her pale breasts.

Carefully, she unwrapped the plastic covering from the actual dress. She felt honored that he wanted her, a stranger, to try on something that was obviously so dear to him. Fortunately, it had a strapless bra built inside the dress, and unzipped the back zipper. She stepped inside the skirt, looping the straps onto her pale shoulders, and asked in a soft voice, "I can't really zip it up. Could you help me?" She blushed, turning her back. She realized that as the cool air brushed against her bare back, that he could see everything. From her neck to the waistband of her panties from here. She shivered, waiting to hear the sound of the zipper being zipped up. When he did zip her dress up, she smiled, and stepped back so he could see her. Knowing that he probably wanted the whole picture, she slowly modelled it for him, turning her body around so he could see the dress best. The lace, the white skirt that laid underneath, the simple fabric that tied it together, and she even put the veil over her eyes.

"How do I look?" She asked, timid, and a faint red blush colored her cheeks. Self-consciously, she flattened out the creases of the skirt, surprised on how sturdy it was. It didn't even look old. It had barely been worn, maybe once. And, suddenly, as she stood there, in the dress, she had a flashback. She saw that she was in the dress, modelling it out for her mother and her sister. She had been squealing, and laughing with her mother, asking her if she thought Eric would like it. In her mind, she saw a picture of Eric. And matched it to the form that had asked her to try on the dress. It was as if Eric had been her fiancee in another life, she blinked, and suddenly felt like he had stripped her to her very core. She was still confused. If Eric was her fiancee, and if he had died too, what did that make them? Immortals? Freaks? She felt like her world was spinning, and suddenly she fell onto the ground, becoming overwhelmed by what she had seen. It was like someone was playing a dirty trick on her and laughing at her. She closed her eyes, resting her head against the foot of the bed for a minute, just to absorb what she had seen.

 

[shinyka]

Eric's stressed breathing hastened to a shallow panting as she wiped the makeup off of his face. He groaned slightly as she wet the cloth a second time, this one noticeably hotter then the first. With a mumble, he nodded his head at her comment about him not having to wear makeup, and felt a slight twinge of content as the Emily look-alike acknowledged his appearance. Or, at least his real appearance, hidden behind ghastly attire and rage from beyond the grave. He closed his eyes again for a few short seconds, before opening them with a new expression, one that brought just a little more life into his eyes then his previous haunted and troubled eyes. Perhaps his new, hidden albeit existent expression could have so been called content, if one so saw fit to deem his slightly easing thinking such.

Another emotional twinge tore at his heart when the Emily Look-Alike talked about being dead. It seemed to fall into place for him. She was now alive as he was, a dead person brought back to life, as he very much was. Yet, the idea troubled him. He had been brought back not even a week ago, and had wasted no time at all in locating the first of the four responsible for his and Emily's deaths. It had only been a few days later that he had murdered him, and in doing so acquired the location of the second. In his eyes, he was an embodiment of vengeance, a killer of killers from beyond the grave. Yet, if his purpose back on this world he had so been ripped away from in the near prime of his life was all about cold-blooded murder, why was Emily back with him? She had always been the compassionate one, the one who seemed to carry limitless supplies of love and grace. So, why would she be back here? Surely not for the same reasons he was?

Eric shook his head at the thought. Emily was the farthest thing there could ever be from a killer, and it made no sense for her to change now, not even when death had befallen the two of them. He was perhaps the better candidature. He was more emotionally driven, more dedicated, more ruthless once finally given a reason to hate. Eric found himself thinking this over and over as the Emily Look-Alike left the room to the next to find the previously mentioned wedding dress. Eric managed to collect himself with a sigh before pulling himself up onto the bed with a slight groan. The almost unexplainable spell of weakness he had found himself under in the minutes past seemed to be fading, as if adjusting to the possible presence of Emily was finally allowing Eric to gain his strength back.

He watched her move into the next room silently, taking in every single movement she made, every single step she took. She was as graceful as Emily, there was little doubt about that. Despite being in little more then a low grade hospital gown, she also seemed to radiate the same poise and serenity that Emily always seemed to radiate in life, regardless of garb and circumstance. Eric shook his head slightly and let out a tiny inaudible growl when his mind inevitably returned to that fateful day in which all was taken from them. He shook his head, his anger welling at the remaining two drunks, and his hatred festering for the dead, coupled with anger and frustration that he could only killed them once.

At her request for some help zipping up the back of the dress, Eric couldn't help but let out a tiny smile. With a slight grunt, he pulled himself off of the worn bed and to his feet, amazed once again that he seemed to weigh nothing at all, like he was some specter or something. It was something that had astounded him since he first woke up laying upon his grave. It was clear though that he did weigh something, as the floorboards still did creak below him as he walked through the open door frame in the wall and into the room where Emily's look alike had already donned the wedding dress. Well, for the most part anyway. Nodding, Eric lightly grabbed the back of the zipper before pulling it up all the way. He smiled slightly at the blush on her face, giving little regard as to if she could see him do so or not.

The second she turned to face him with the wedding veil on, Eric felt a new surge of emotion sweep through him. It was not a wild and uncontrolled wave like the previous one, nor was it one filled with negative and painful memories like the one he had experienced on the bed. This wave of feeling swept through him, thoughts and memories of Emily filling every fiber of his being for a second or two. He shook slightly and took a step backward out of instinct, yet this time he was not faltering, but rather feeling his old strength bolster through him again, renewing and revitalizing him. He smiled for a second, confident that the person he was with was indeed Emily, his love. The thought of finally being with her again after so long warmed him, and filled his cold heart again with joy, joy he had not felt since the day that the both of them entered the abyss.

When she fell, Eric wasted no time in catching her, returning the favor for just a few moments earlier. With a grunt, he hoisted her up into his arms and carried her over to the bed, very much in the same way he had planned on doing so not ten days after the crash happened. With a grunt, he set her down on the faded mattress, cursing the irony all the while under his breath.

 

[angelicxdream]

Emily, after being knocked back in this time from her flashbacks, realized that someone was holding her, and instead of being on the cold, hard ground, she was on a bed. And, it was so comfortable. She looked up, realizing that Eric, her husband, had carried her. She was in too much of a daze to notice, but she loved whenever he carried her. She felt so loved by him, even now. She realized that this dress was hers, but even still, she didn't want to ruin it. She gently lifted the veil up from beneath her face, and let it cover her hair as almost a protective net of some kind. She didn't know what he was thinking about, hesistating for a minute and gently carressed the outline of his face, just feeling his cheekbones. She looked up at him, into his eyes, and leaned up against his body, lifting her lips to meet his in a soft kiss. She pulled back, biting her lip, thinking he was going to push her away. Did he even remember? Oops. She didn't take that into account. She weighed her options, trying to understand what he was thinking about for a moment. He had carried her to the bed. He hadn't yelled at her, or hit her, or demand that she get out of the dress. In fact, she was wearing it right now. So, if he hadn't remembered, would he be as calm as he was being right now?

Just an hour ago, he had stormed in here. From her analysis, she knew that he had to remember. He was being so... affectionate. And usually, she wouldn't expect someone like him to be so calm and affectionate. She blushed, she looked at him clearly, realizing he was handsome in his own right. She gently took his hand and held it in her smaller hand for a moment, and as if he was a doll, patted the seat on the bed next to her, wondering if he'd take it. "Please." She added, just to be extra persuasive. Once he did, she laid her head on his chest, and snuggled into his warmth, shivering from the thin fabric of the dress. She brought the hand she was holding over to lay across her slender waist, and just laid there with him. It all came back to her. She realized that he was her husband, and that he remembered. He wouldn't be so affectionate, he wouldn't care so much about her if he didn't. He wouldn't have cared if she sat on the ground or if she laid on the bed. Realizing that he might be cold as well, she lifted herself from the bed, and opened the linen closet that was in their bedroom. Their bedroom. It sounded strange, even on her lips. She lifted a few blankets, and offered one to him, unfolding it and placing it over his body. "I hope that's warm enough, tell me if it isn't."

She knew it was in her nature to be gentle and loving, and that's probably what he liked about her but she remembered that it was painful to be torn away from him. It was so painful to die. And, what she was feeling at the pit of her stomach was anything but loving or caring. But, she didn't know the first place to start. She didn't know what he had done in his time here, but she hadn't realized he had gone off on a killing spree. She wanted to hurt the men that had hurt Eric and hear, wanted to hurt the men that had done this. Yet, she wasn't sure how to voice this opinion to Eric. Surely, he wouldn't agree. And, she was afraid she would lose him. She sighed. She came back to the bed once the blankets were unfolded and placed over them. She laid her head back on his chest, and took his hand in her hand, rubbing the fingertips with her smaller ones. Looking closer, she realized that she was wearing a ring on her left hand. The diamond that laid on her finger wasn't too big, or too small. It sparkled in the light, and didn't even have to take off the ring to see that Eric had given it to her. And, somehow, she knew in the back of her mind, that if she took it off, he would be disappointed, even if it was only for a few minutes. Like, she needed to check if it was from him. He would be hurt, and she didn't want that. She kissed his cheek, as a thank you.

And then, came the dilemma of the wedding dress. Oh, she loved it. She had picked it out. But, she was afraid it would get dirty or worse, some parts of the fabric would be ripped because she tended to move around when she slept. It wouldn't be very comfortable to sleep in. She looked up at him, and again, didn't know what to say. She didn't know if he wanted to continue to look at her in it. Well, if she didn't speak up now, she would lose this chance, while he was still calm and somewhat relaxed. "Um. Sweetheart? Can I... maybe take off my wedding dress? I love it, oh, you know I do. But, I don't want to rip it. And, it's so beautiful, and it wouldn't be comfortable to sleep in with it." By the way she spoke, it was as if the flashbacks, the memories had brought them closer than she would've ever imagined. She tended to get flustered when she was afraid of what the corresponding person would say. A blush creeped up her cheeks, and when he had given her consent, she went over to the closet, unzipping herself, and watching the white fabric pool around her ankles. She didn't have any PJs either. Great. She needed to get clothes. Or, maybe.. she could just sleep in her bra and panties for today, and.. buy clothes tomorrow. Yeah, that sounded like a decent plan. Except, she'd need to buy clothes in the stupid hospital gown. Or, maybe, she hadn't looked thoroughly, he had some of her other clothes too? Or, she could ask to borrow a pair of his t-shirt and shorts for tomorrow. She hoped he wouldn't mind too much. She would wash them right afterwards.

She slide back into the blankets, and snuggled close to him. She was just happy she had found him again. She began to tear up, not knowing what she would have done if she hadn't. So, he couldn't see her emotional collapse, she pressed her tear-streaked face against the crook of his shoulder, breathing in and out heavily. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body close. She just wanted to feel him, to be comforted, and just laying there with him was more than anything she could ever ask for. She clutched him close, breathing in and out, remembering that he was here and it was all going to be fine. They were meant to be together forever, and he wouldn't ever do anything to hurt her, and that included divorce. She just had to breathe, tomorrow was a new day. Tonight had been all kinds of stressful.

 

[shinyka]

The adrenaline. It shouldn't have been running. It was. Do the dead feel rushes, why do I feel alive? Eric couldn't shake these thoughts from his head as another resounding impact lit up the parking lot. He swung again, harder this time, he wasn't in control of his body. His anger, his hate moved his arm, kept his hand clenched around the tire iron. He swung brutally, no, not brutally, every swing had missed a vital point, David's ribs hadn't even cracked yet. He wouldn't be moving any time soon though, no, Eric's brutality saw to that. A yell echoed the air as a final whoosh filled the air, a resounding crack almost intrinsically a successor. Eric's rush faded, his rage subsided. He took a step back to marvel his handiwork. David was now no more than a man like spatter, illuminated by the glowing neon sign that overlooked his body.

He couldn't be weak. He couldn't. He had survived it. Even though it killed him, he survived it, he was back. He was no longer a man, to call him such would be wrong. He was a shadow, a fragment of the great man that was once Eric Valmer. Nay, he wasn't a shadow, he was a shade, a child of the night. He had crawled his way back from the grave, now what? Was he going to lay there and pity himself with Emily so near? Why was it that she melted him?

It was wet. That was the only thing he could think of. Wet. Was it rain? No, it didn't smell like rain, it was like soil, like something clinging to him and refusing to let go. Why? He couldn't help but wonder. What is it that's wet? He opened his eyes, or perhaps closed them. It was pitch black, either way. Where was he? It was wet, and dark. Wet and dark, like a grave. No, he couldn't be in a grave. If he was in a grave, how was he thinking this? If he was dead, how could he be alive?

Eric let out a tiny gasp as his fatigue faded, just as oddly as it had first appeared. He felt his muscles twitch involuntarily, as he once again woke up to the surroundings around him. A room, his room, this room lingering somewhere in time, even though its owner was gone. He felt awake again, clear and alive. Or, as alive as he could be while still in this condition. His senses were returning, he was once again in the present, not reliving, or redying his past happenings. No, what happened now was him.

Then, it came to him. The warmth. It clung to him, like a ever present bliss, like a salvation pulling him up to the skies. How could it though? He wasn't moving, he was still in bed. It was then he caught her presence, cold physically but warming him, thawing him, however impossible. Her: Emily. She was back, she was with him, it was like no time had passed at all, and the two were still there, like they had always been.

He leaned over and sighed. She was with him again, accounting for all the time that they had not had, time that had been stolen from them by ones who did not know them. Time that should have been but wasn't. The dress came to mind. The dress! It had not gone with them, Emily was wearing it now, as she should have been back then. She looked so perfect in it, as she always did, her charm and grace bringing it to its former beauty. "Yes dear", he said, breaking the pause. "We'll have to get you something to wear. We very well can't have you ..naked", he said, turning to face her and placing a slight stress on the last word in his sentence. It was like it was, this very moment. Before then. Before all this.

 

[angelicxdream]

[OOC: Hopefully, you're back for good! And, you'll be more active.]

The last thing she heard was that he was going to get her clothes before she dozed off in his arms, snuggling close to him, her arms clasped loosely over his neck, breathing in his wonderful scent in. She felt safe in his arms, and he was so warm. Or was it the blankets? She was too tired too care, and too relieved. She laid comfortably in his arms, dozing off to bed, letting of reality for a few hours to indulge in her dreams, the dreams she had of him, when they had separated because of that car accident. She didn't even want to think about it now, it made her skin crawl. She wanted to never think of that incident ever again. In fact, she secretly wanted to take revenge on those that had dared to take Eric away from her. But, she was scared to tell him what she wanted to do, she was afraid he wouldn't love her anymore, now that she was so different. She never used to be like this, she used to be sweet and naive, graceful and sophisticated. Never like this. She never wanted to take revenge on anyway when she had been alive. How long had he been alive? Did he look for her? Did he miss her? He never said anything. She remembered that he never said that he missed her, or that he loved her, or that he never wanted to be apart from her again. These kinds of thoughts plagued her mind as she slept. She was indulging in the comfort of his arms around her because she didn't know how long it would last.

Had he changed? She had changed so much, she wondered if he had changed at all. How had he lived without her? Slowly, she rose out of bed, folding the warm blankets around the side, carefully untangling his arm from her waist, and placing it under the blanket so he wouldn't be cold. She couldn't remember if he was a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper. She was hoping for the latter. Reaching into the closet, she couldn't find any feminine clothes. He was larger than her, and his clothing wouldn't fit her, so she opted for the robe, deciding to take a shower. She walked into the bathroom, that was covered in dust and debris, and finding some cleaning supplies, she began to clean the bathroom, especially the tub so she could take her shower. She pushed the curtains away from the tub, stepping into the bathtub, beginning to turn on the water, watching and feeling it spring to life, splattering onto her face. She hummed lightly under her breath, squeezing an ample amount of shampoo and began to lather it in her hair. Knowing that he was in the bedroom, she was at peace and had not left the earth for heaven, she could breathe and live again with him by her side. As she began to rinse her hair, she wondered if he still loved her. He was so silent. She couldn't read every expression in his eyes, and that was beginning to hurt. Did he even want her back? After her shower, she turned off the water, and grabbed a towel to dry herself off. There were so many questions in her eyes, but she didn't know how to voice her thoughts.

He hadn't brought anything up. Maybe she was worrying for no reason. But, if something was bothering her, she wouldn't be able to think about anything else, do anything else until she had talked to him. The bathroom looked so clean, and spotless. It looked so different from the rest of the house, that was covered in dust and debris. Wearing the robe, since she had no other clothes, she began to take her cleaning supplies, her mop, rubber gloves, and other materials and began to clean the house. She figured he would appreciate that. She would never be able to live in a house that looked so dirty, so rundown as this one. Of course, she hadn't set foot in this house in several years, of course it would be this dirty. What was she thinking? But, he had been here. She supposed he was fine with the house being dirty. She wasn't going to live like this, so while Eric slept, that's what she did, she cleaned down the house. The fatigue that she thought would overwhelm her, didn't. She wanted to learn more about this new body she had, how different was she from Emily? The woman that existed and died in the car crash? But, she didn't want to think about that. She wouldn't think about the accident.

Thankfully, the house wasn't terribly big, so she returned to the bed at noon. She checked to see if he was still sleeping, and she supposed he hadn't been sleeping lately because he was still asleep. She sighed, and looked out at the window, admiring the shine of the room, as if it had returned back to life like she had. She wondered who the people were who had killed them in the car crash, if she knew them, or if they were just strangers. Deep inside, she knew she wasn't strong enough to let him go if he had decided that since he had lived all these years without her, he could live the rest of his life without her. She was afraid, she couldn't remember the last time she was this scared, frightened, and nervous. Their relationship had always been so open, and honest. And, even if he didn't want her, she knew that at least she would have her answer.