The Last Chance

Chapter 2 - Wake me from this Nightmare

*Author's Note: I put up Jeff's picture :) 

This chapter is dedicated to Read_and_laugh for being a great reader! Even though she just saw this story, I am so happy that she likes it! Thank you!

~fr3e2dre4m

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Jeff’s Point of View

I don’t know what tempted me to reach out to Lindsey, or place my palm on her bare shoulder, where I felt her shudder. Her eyes were hooded, and rather fearful, as if she didn’t know me anymore. Then I saw anger in those brown eyes that lit up gold when she laughed, now dark with fury.

“Let go of me Jeff,” she hissed, her perfect lips forming the words with a snarl.

“No. Not this time, not ever,” I whispered.

“What do you want anyway? You’re married Jeff. Married. Go back to your little whore ok? I’m not Barbie, and I sure can’t compete with her.”

Horrified, and shocked by her words, I could only watch her stalk away, and that blonde friend of hers shot an angered glare at me. Married? What on earth was Lindsey talking about? There was no one else for me but Lindsey. I could see the swing of her hair, and the way the sequins on her dress shimmered in the light, or how she seemed to glow with laughter as Joe picked her up and swung her in a circle.

Was this some kind of joke? I must be dreaming, someone wake me up from this nightmare. Let me run after her, let me pick up my legs. I miss you baby, oh I miss you so much. But she was walking farther and farther away from my grasp, and I could see a halo of light where she disappeared to. I could feel the bitter tears on my face, and my hand reached up to feel the damp evidence of hurt. Oh the woman had torn apart my heart and stamped it with a bruise.

Everyone told me I’d be ok without her, that I could move on. My sister tried to drag me to parties, to find me a new woman. How could I move on when even touching her broke me into two?

Was there any way to move on from a woman who engraved her name on your heart? It wasn’t possible to forget Lindsey. The way her hair glowed red in the moonlight, or golden in the sun, how her eyes glowed when she laughed at me, how she held me when she hurt.

“Jeff,” she sobbed. “Oh god, you should’ve seen it. She was so broken. There was an accident, and this woman was killed.”

“Shh. You’ll be ok Lindsey. Pull through for me baby. I love you so much,” I whispered.

“I love you too Jeff. So much.”

"I know baby. We're going to buy a house and run away from this dump. We're going to have a life, and kids, and a dog since you've always wanted one," I soothed her gently.

I held her in my arms, letting her tears soak my shirt, rocking her slim body back and forth, back and forth. The moonlight glowed on the lake, and she wiped away her tears and pulled me to my feet.

“I always wanted to dance in the moonlight,” she smiled shyly.

She took me by the hand and led me to the Angel Pavillion, where you could almost hear the songs of the angels from above. But who was I to tell? My angel was right here, in my arms, swaying to an invisible dance with me. 

And so that night, we danced under the canopy of the forest, with the moon beaming on the lake, and the waves so still you could see the shimmer of our reflections, molded together. Perfectly.

She was the one who pulled me together that night after I realized the woman in that accident was my mother. I had been 18, she had just turned 16 and we had so much going for us. That day was the day my father turned into a drunken bastard, the day my baby brother ran away from home. It was the day Lindsey had cried, but I had stood there in shock, staring into the glazed blue eyes of my mother, her face so mangled that even I couldn’t recognize her anymore.

My father blamed my younger brother for being there in the car with her, for surviving because she had covered him with her own fragile body. Because no one had seen the drunk driver of the other van, and he had gotten away, and my father was too drowned in his misery. Sure, that drunkard was put into jail, but my father had long been driven into the clutches of scotch and whiskey.

Kelsey, my sister, had to endure the most because she looked so much like my mother. Angered, my father beat her every day. Every moment he had was either consumed by alcohol or spent hurling insults at us, or beating us until we bled.

Lindsey was the one that gave me hope, telling me we would get our chance for a better life, that we would get married and live our fairytale. 

“It’s what your mom would’ve wanted.” She would always say. 

"I miss her. I bet she's in heaven right now, trying to scold my dad for becoming an idiot after her death, for not trying to become a better person."  I would reply.

"Yeah. She would've wanted something better for him. She was so beautiful and kind."

"So are you, Lindsey. My angel. My baby."

I married her at 20, and we ran away with the money my mother had saved for me. I tried to take Kelsey, but she was only 12 at the time, and school was her most important need. Now, 5 years later, I finally met her, the young woman she had become. She acted in movies, and she remained sweet, even after enduring the insults of my father, after being slapped and punched like she was nothing more than a mere doll. I never heard of my brother again, until last year, when it was confirmed that he had died in the woods. He was only 8, and had starved until his death, just 2 days before his birthday. 

My father, I honestly haven't seen him since I ran away with Lindsey. Her family had always been the supportive one, telling me to chase my dreams. So I did, I worked and worked, trying to earn a better life for me and Lindsey. Yet where have I ended up? Nowhere. I lost the most precious thing in my life.

Now I’m here, sitting in a bar, alone, waiting, waiting for God to come and take my soul. If I can’t have Lindsey, then please, someone just take my life. Because really, my life is already gone. Lindsey has it.