By Heather
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I lavished my admiration upon you
You were to my mind the almost perfect man.
You devoured my personality,
And the idealism of my youth,
And the strength of a high-souled fealty.
And all my hopes for the world,
And all my beliefs in Truth,
Were smelted up in the blinding heat
Of my devotion to you,
And molded into your image.
The beach looks so calm, so quiet. The insignificant waves drift slowly, barely creating a stir in the serene, dark water. The moon reflects in the water brightly, almost gaily, laughing at my sad visage daring to reflect there with it. The lighthouse looms high behind me, allowing me to hide within its dark, desolate shadows. I hide here, away from the prying eyes of the couples strolling the beach. Away from the eyes of blissful lovers strolling by in the moonlight.
It has been so long since I was last here, on this very beach, in this very spot. That last night was so cold, so dark. It looms behind me, over me, just like the lighthouse, threatening me. Challenging me. Taunting me.
Haunting me.
Those unwanted memories wash over me again and again, as cold and as dark as those waves, chilling me to the very bone. The memories almost seem like someone else. It wasn't me. It wasn't him. It never happened to us. It was someone else, it was always someone else. This wasn't supposed to happen to us. But I know better.
I saw it. I saw it happen. I saw it all happen.
I saw it, when he came on to that petite, blond, fancy dressed girl. I saw her struggle against him. I saw him grab her by her hair. I saw him dragging her down, down to this spot, this very spot on the beach. I saw it, when he attacked her. I watched as he tried to rape her. I watched, as he almost succeeded in taking what he wanted, like he always did.
I hated him then. I hated him so much, my blood ran hot, my face burned. I hated him. Despised him. For what he was doing to her. For what he was doing to me.
For what he was doing to us.
I was almost thankful, when I saw her tall, dark friend hit him with that rock. I was almost thankful when I saw him go down on the ground.
Anger filled me, when I saw him rise from that hard, cold ground, to go after the tall, dark girl. I watched with rage, as he went after her, turning to her, to hurt her. To take her. I was enraged when I saw him attack her, like he had the small, fair girl.
I stare out at the cold waves, as the memories fill my mind, freezing me to the core of my being. I remember it all. I can still see it all. I see it every night, over and over again. The way he looked, as those two girls fought him. I remember how they looked, terrified of him. Scared for their own lives. The memories visit me, forcing me to remember, to relive every single, horrible moment of that night.
I remember, how that blonde girl, hit him with that heavy rock a second time, knocking him to the ground again. I watched on, as he struggled for his breath, his chest rising and falling almost violently. His back arching from the ground, his body racked with pain. I watched his breathe, holding my own, to see if it stopped. I remember how we-that girl and I-cried out in anguish, when we realized what she had done.
Or rather, what she thought she had done.
We both thought she had done it. That she'd killed him. That she had killed my husband.
But in reality, she didn't. She did little more than stun him. Oh she knocked him out cold. It lasted for a long time too. Long enough for her friend to drag her off, sobbing and screaming over what she thought she had done. But she didn't finish him. Neither of them finished him. They went back to their safe, happy lives, while I stayed where I was. With my life.
My husband.
To this day, I'm not sure why I married him. God knows we had nothing in common. I suppose he loved me, in his own way. But even I know he loved his drugs more than anything. At the end, they had come to consume him. His life depended on it. He needed it to wake up, to sleep, to work, to relax, to do even the simplest tasks he needed to snort some up.
And I wasn't much better either. I did my share of drugs. Hell, that's how we met. He was my dealer. I was high that night.
His family hated me. Only Danny was ever nice to me. Carmen, she always treated me like I was the reason Mick fell from grace. Like I brought him down. She refused to believe I was his wife, that I was a member of the family. She probably never thinks of me now, never mentions me. She probably thinks I'm safely gone from her life.
If she only knew what really happened that night.
After the girls left, I came out of my hiding place. I picked my way down to him and carefully sat down beside him. I watched, tears filling my eyes-I still don't know why-as he struggled to breathe. I sat there a long time, just watching him.
Memories assaulted me then too.
In the beginning I was only jealous. I continually saw my husband hitting on other women, but it was usually harmless. He was a flirt. He loved women. I knew that and tried to understand. Nothing ever came of it. Until he met that girl. That blond girl.
Oh, he never said anything to me about her. But I could tell something changed, something was different. He started hanging out at that new club, the Millennium, spending less and less time with me. Finally, I followed him there one night.
I was happy-and relieved-to see him working. We needed money desperately. But I wasn't happy to see him with her. We weren't exactly happy then. Mick had his good days and his bad. But the bad were becoming more and more frequent. I'd taken to wearing long sleeved blouses and sunglasses a lot more, to cover the evidence. I'm not sure why I was jealous. I suppose it was because he was nicer to her than me. He paid her more attention.
Oh, I know she didn't actually encourage him. I saw her rebuff him repeatedly. It just didn't register that she didn't want him. That she didn't like him. I didn't want to see it, I didn't want to see any of it. But I did.
Then, a few weeks later, I followed him to work again. But he didn't go to work. He followed her. Down to the beach. And there, my world came falling down.
He finally opened his eyes and looked over at me. He lifted his head and spit out blood.
"Hey baby," he whispered, rubbing his head gingerly.
"How could you Mick," I whispered, suddenly feeling extremely older than my 25 years. "How could you...do this?" I jumped to my feet, my anger-the drugs-surging through my veins. I started to pace that small spot of the beach, barefoot and feeling wild.
"What are you doing here?" he asked me, stumbling to his feet to face me. I stopped my pacing and stared into his eyes. He was high. His eyes were wild and crazy, filled with pain and anger.
Before I saw what he was doing, his hand flew out, backhanding me across my cheek. My head snapped back and red hot pain flooded my face. I tasted my hot, coppery blood. I stumbled back, almost loosing my footing, but I caught myself. I stood back up, straight and tall. I touched my face hesitantly, surprised at the heat radiating off of it.
"You fucking bitch! What the hell are you doing here? What are you doing following me? I don't need this kind of crap from you!" he yelled, seething mad and raising his hand again.
I back away from him, watching him warily.
"Yes I was following you! You bastard," I swore, furious at him. It didn't help that I was so high either. Sometimes, it would make me angry at everything. "Are you fucking stupid? Do you think I'm that stupid?"
Suddenly he sat back down on the ground, hard, holding his head in his hands. "Why did you do it? Why did you follow me?"
I stared down at him, my heart slowly hardening into cold, clear ice. "Why do you think Mick?" I took him by the chin and jerked his head up, ignoring his wince of pain. My voice low and eerily calm, looking deep into his eyes, I whispered loudly, "I wanted to see if you really intended to fuck her." I let him go and stood back, crossing my arms across my chest.
He stared up at me, his eyes getting darker and darker as his fury grew. Standing up suddenly, he tackled me to the ground, knocking the air from my body.
"You bitch," he harshly whispered in my ear. "Do you wish it was you? Is that what you want now?" He shook my, hard, and I couldn't scream. There was no breath in my body. As I struggled to breathe, he began ripping my shirt off of my body, crudely kissing my neck. I struggled to free myself from his grasp, but it was futile. He was too strong for me, his body weight crushing me deeper and deeper into the sand, preventing me from getting a good grip on the ground with my feet.
Just as he was about to rip off my jeans, his body went limp. Looking up, horrified by the feel of his heavy, sluggish body, weighting down on mine, I saw a dark figure looming over us. Tossing aside the rock it help, it reached out and grabbed Mick's limp body, rolling it off of me.
Squatting down beside me, he reached out and smoothed my sweaty hair away from my face. He leaned over and whispered to me, "You okay?" his voice soft and calming.
I finally calmed down enough to see who it was. "Oh Danny..." I started to say more, but suddenly I burst into tears. Taking me in his arms, my brother-in-law tried to calm my hysterical sobbing. I kept seeing Mick laying there, his eyes half open, not breathing...not breathing...just laying there...
"Well if it isn't my favorite sister-in-law. I didn't expect to see you here," that same soft, calm voice said, from not far behind me.
I snapped out of my reverie and jerked my head around. Standing behind me, arms crossed and staring down at me was Danny. Turning back to the sea, I pull my legs close to my body and continue to watch the waves. I hear him walking closer and feel him sit down beside me.
"Danny," I whisper softly, resting my chin on my knees, still staring out at the waves. The wind is starting to pick up, whipping my long, black hair around my face.
"Are you remembering too?" he asked softly, turning his gaze down to the waves too. Tears choke my throat and all I can do is nod.
"Seems so long ago doesn't it? But it's only been a year," he said, his voice soft and distant. "I never meant to kill him. I didn't." I hear his voice choke, I see him bow his head, resting his forehead on his arms, which rest on his knees. Turning towards him, I wrap my arms around him, much like he did me that night, so long ago.
I think back again. I remember the look on Danny's face, as he reached over, touching his brother. Shaking him violently, he called his name over and over, growing hoarse from the shouting, the fear, the wretchedness he must have been feeling. He kept repeating over and over again, "I killed him...Mick? I killed him...."
He almost broke down then. I watched in amazement as he gained control of his emotions, his feelings, and became coldly composed. It was like someone took over his body. His eyes, his body, everything about him, hardened. I watched in shock, as he hoisted Mick up and over his shoulder, and headed down to the beach. I watched, as he laid him down next to the water. He walked back, head held high. Standing over me, he offered me his hand. I took it and he pulled me to my feet. His asked me, his face momentarily softening, if I was all right. I nodded softly and he pulled me up off the beach, to his car.
He took me to a hotel and bought me a room, since I didn't want to go home to Mick's and my apartment. Never saying a word. He walked me to my room. Standing in the door way, bracing himself against the door frame, he finally said something.
"You won't say anything about this, will you?"
I shook my head. "No."
"Okay, good," he turned to go. Suddenly he turned back, his face showing the anguish I had seen before, so briefly on the beach. "I didn't mean for this to happen you know. I...I didn't know it was him. I only saw you, in trouble, and I reacted. I didn't know. I was only protecting you."
I laid my hand on his cheek and looked up into his eyes, surprised to see them brimmed with tears. "I know Danny, I know. I...I understand. You...you were just helping family."
I pull back from him and look up at his face now, on the beach. His face is a mask, not unlike the one he wore that night. He looks...almost like a little boy. A sad, innocent boy. He looks out to the water, the cold, dark water, the exact place where he left Mick's body.
"Danny," I say softly. He turns to me. "I...I never said, thank you Danny, thank you for saving me, I...I never meant for this to happen."
"I know, I know," he says softly, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me close. "We never meant for any of this to happen. And we can't let it get out, we can never let it get out. You understand?"
I nod.
"I'm moving back to town Danny, I'm home for good."
His head jerks around to look at me.
"Don't worry, I won't tell. I know about your marriage Danny, I know who you married." His eyes question me further. I laugh bitterly. "I still have connections to this town. I don't want to ruin your life. Not like...Mick ruined mine. And don't worry. I'm clean now. You have nothing to worry about from me. Nothing at all."
"I hope so. I really hope so."
And then when I found what you were:
That your soul was small
And your words were false
I hated the love I had for you,
I hated myself, I hated you
For my wasted soul, and wasted youth.
And I say to all, beware of ideals,
Beware of giving your love away
To any man alive.
����� --Robert Southey Burke
�"It's laying out there," muses Head Writer Barbara Esensten. "We know who really killed Mick, and obviously it wasn't Michelle and Drew. So yes, we do plan on using it at some point."
Spoiler for GL-Will a woman from Danny's past cause him and Michelle problems?
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