Walking Contradiction ("All By Myself") (COMPLETE)

[suicideXmakeover]

Part 10

Tre and I sat at the kitchen table, having some microwavable dinners that I had purchased at the supermarket earlier that day, ignoring the ringing phone. Tre glanced at me every time it rang, but I didn’t respond. It was my mother. I knew it was her. I didn’t feel the need to talk to her.
After the phone rang the fifth time, it would go to the answering machine. I would heard Tre’s voice echoing throughout the living room. “Hello. You’ve reached the answering machine of the sexiest man alive, Tre Cool and his beautiful fiance. I’m obviously not here right now, so leave a message.” There would be a loud beep before you could hear my mother, sobbing about how sorry she was. In the course of the evening, she had called and left about 14 messages like that.
“If you don’t answer it the next time she calls, I will,” Tre said after she left her next tearful message.
“You’d just be giving her what she wants,” I said, tossing my newly dyed hair and having some more of my stir-fry whatever it was.
“I don’t care. I can’t take the phone ringing all the time like this. It’s giving me a headache.” He massaged his scalp before taking another bite of his dinner.
“Fine, you answer it,” I snapped, annoyed with the fact that my mother’s insanity was starting to effect Tre.
“God, you can be such a baby sometimes,” he said as the phone began to ring again. He leapt up from the table. I stared at him, totally shocked that he just said what he did, and watched as he answered the phone. “Hello? Yes, this is Tre. Nice to speak to you as well. She’s eating dinner right now. No, really she is. She was ignoring you before, but now she has an excuse.” I glared at Tre, begging with my eyes for him to just hang up and sit down. “No, ma’am. Yes, I’m sorry about it, too. I’ll try and convince her to call you back later. Alright. Bye.”
“What was that?” I asked.
“What was what? I just talked to your mother.”
“You acted like I was the one who freaked out with no fucking reason!” I yelled.
“Because you’re starting to act like her! You told me that you couldn’t stand her because she was so closed minded and wouldn’t let you apologize! And what the hell are you doing to her that’s so different? You’re becoming your mother, Vicky, as much as you hate to admit it.”
I reached over and slapped him across the face, storming into the bedroom and locking the door. I threw myself onto the bed and shoving my face into a pillow. I had been crying a lot since this whole pregnancy thing began.
“Vicky,” he said. He was on the other side of the door. I could hear him fiddling with the door, trying to open it despite the lock.
“Not now, Tre,” I cried.

TRE’S POINT OF VIEW
I pressed my back against the door. “Just talk to me,” I said, rubbing the spot on my face where she had slapped me. It burned pretty back, but I knew it wasn’t the time to complain about it.
“No,” she sobbed. I slid down and sat on the floor, back against the door. I just sat there. What had I done wrong? I was trying to help. Apparently Vicky was the kind of girl who didn’t want help. Something had been seriously wrong with her lately, even before the miscarriage. She was becoming someone different, and I didn’t like it. I missed the Vicky who toted me to the hospital. That Vicky had been funny and sarcastic. This Vicky was serious all the time. The other Vicky had standards for herself that she lowered for no one, but suddenly she seemed to be dropping them all.
“Vicky,” I whispered, but said nothing more, since I wasn’t exactly sure what to say.

[suicideXmakeover]

Sorry that this part is so short.

Part 11

I stayed in that bedroom until I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore. Tre had slept on the couch the night before and, I guess, went to work in the same clothes he had worn the day before. I was pretty sure that he was off telling the guys about my crazy episode the night before. I finally unlocked the bedroom door at about noon the next day. My eyes burned from crying so much. I felt like such an emotional loser.
I looked around Tre’s house before making a final decision. I went back into the bedroom, grabbed my suitcase and started packing. I threw everything I could in there. All my shirts, my pants, etc. I shoved them all into one suitcase. I found a notepad and a pen and began writing.

“Dear Tre,
In case you haven’t already noticed, I’ve left. I don’t think our relationship is the best idea anymore. I was really thinking about it, and you have a point. I’m too much like my mother. I need time to get away from everything and think about stuff. I’m not saying that I’ll come back after a while. In fact, I probably won’t come back. Enclosed in an envelope is your ring. I’m sorry I’ve put you through all of this. I might come back later to get the remains of my stuff.
Love,
Vicky.”

I examined the envelope and the note I had written before placing them on the coffee table in the living room. As I went through the house to see if there was anything I absolutely needed, I called Cory. “Can I come stay with you for a while?” I asked.
“Oh my God, did something happen with you and Tre?”
“Kind of,” I said. “I just don’t think the relationship is going to work. I’ll tell you about it later. But for the time being, can I just come there for a while?”
“Oh, yeah, of course,” she said, sounding a little shaky and uncertain. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Everything’s going to be so much better now. I can feel it.”

[suicideXmakeover]

Part 12

TRE’S POINT OF VIEW
I strolled in the front door, walking cautiously toward the bedroom, half expected for the door to still be closed and locked, Vicky inside. Instead, the door was wide open, but Vicky was nowhere to be found.
“Vicky?” I called, leaning in the bathroom, in my office, on the patio, etc. She wasn’t anywhere. I checked the garage and sure enough, her car was gone. But where was she?
I wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a beer and heading for the living room, when I spotted a piece of paper on the table. I expected for it to say something like “Went to the supermarket, be back soon.” But no. That wasn’t what it said.
I sat there at the table. I read the note, then dropped the ring from the envelope into my hand. I didn’t understand why it happened. I didn’t know why she left. But I could tell she didn’t want to be followed, no matter how badly I wanted to follow her.
I looked at the ring and the paper and started to cry. As much as she may have doubted it, I really loved her. And nothing hurts more than someone you love leaving.

[xxnimrod]

*Sniff* ..so sad. lol.

[suicideXmakeover]

Part 13

“I think you’re crazy.”
Cory and I sat on her patio, sipping some mixture of vodka and apple juice that she had decided on as I told her all about what had happened. “Why am I crazy?” I asked, looking over at her.
“Because,” she sighed. “You had a man that loves you. He was going to marry you, for God’s sakes. I mean, why did you leave?”
“I’m not really sure. It just felt like the right thing to do, you know?” I queried, glaring at her.
“No, I don’t know. You don’t make sense to me anymore, Vicky.”
“God, I don’t seem to make sense to anyone anymore,” I mumbled. “I bet you Tre’s having a bachelor party with Billie and Mike.”
“Probably not,” she grunted.
“We should have a bachelorette party,” I said suddenly. “You and me. And Romy, of course. We can go to that strip club downtown.”
“I’m not a lesbian, Vicky,” she said.
“It’s a strip club where guys strip. Otherwise I wouldn’t be interested,” I laughed. “What do you say?”
“I say that I have a husband and am happily married.”
“You’re no fun,” I mumbled. “Come on. Mark doesn’t have to know. Just us girls. A secret thing. Please.” I made my big puppy dog eyes and blinked at her.
“If Mark finds out, you are dead,” she laughed. “Call Romy and tell her we’ll pick her up in half an hour.”
I smiled, realizing I had won. I pulled out my cell phone and called Romy while Cory went to explain to her husband that I needed a night out after so much stress, so we were “going shopping”. I loved how she could just lie like that to her husband.
After picking up Romy, we headed out to the aforementioned strip club. I was kind of flattered that the bartender actually carded me. We took our seats in the back of the club, watching. As we sat there, scantily clad men our age and a few years older wandering around, I explained the whole Tre ordeal to Romy, who just nodded a lot. A couple of times we were interrupted by a guy about two years younger than us who sported a leopard print thong, who obviously wanted some tips. After slapping a few $10 bills in his waistband (and ignoring the fact that it reminded me of Tre), we continued talking. I didn’t pay any attention to the fact that the DJ seemed to turn the volume up to it’s maximum when he decided to play “Holiday.” I pretended that I had no problems, seeing as how Tre was probably off with Billie and Mike, doing more or less the same thing.

TRE’S POINT OF VIEW
Where was I? All I knew was that I was totally drunk. I looked around for a little bit. The room was spinning, but I finally identified the place as my kitchen. I clung to the counter and walked by the fridge, resisting the impulse to grab whatever I could find with some sort of alcoholic content.
I almost tumbled into the stereo as I entered the living room, causing it to turn on. Of course, seeing as how you can’t turn on the radio without hearing it, “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” blasted at me. “Damn it,” I mumbled, trying helplessly to turn the volume down, but succeeding only in spilling my Cheech all over the floor. “Damn,” I whispered again, ignoring the puddle on the carpet and heading over to the couch, ignoring the words that pounded through my head.
“I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known. Don’t know where it goes but it’s only me and I walk alone.”
“Shut up, Billie,” I groaned, tossing my now empty glass at the stereo. The glass shattered all over the place, and I didn’t succeed in turning off the radio, which pissed me off even more. Then the phone started ringing. “Shit,” I mumbled placing my hand on my face and grabbing the phone. “What?” I snapped.
“Tre? What’s wrong with you?” It was Mike.
“Nothing,” I slurred.
“Are you drunk?”
“No,” I lied.
“Yes, you are,” Mike said. “I can tell.”
“I’m fine,” I groaned.
“Are you listening to ‘Boulevard’?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“My shadow’s the only one that walks beside me,” Billie sang in the background.
“How’s Vicky?”
“How would I fucking know?” I grunted. “She left me.”
“What?” Mike sounded like he didn’t believe me. “She did what?”
“She left. She left a note and her ring. She’s not coming back, Mike. I’m all alone. I WALK ALONE, I WALK ALONE!” I wailed into the phone.
“Tre, stay there. Billie and I are coming over.”
“Fine. But you’re just wasting your time,” I sighed, hanging up. “SHUT THE FUCK UP, BILLIE!” I screamed, turning to the stereo. Of course, it didn’t listen to me. The living room was filled with Billie’s repetitive “oh”ing and the instrumental ending, which was cut short since apparently the radio doesn’t have time for the good part. Then some Kelly Clarkson song came on.
I didn’t need anybody. I decided this then and there. Whatever I had told Vicky didn’t matter. I didn’t need her. I wondered where she was and what she was doing right at that moment.

VICKY’S POINT OF VIEW
I sat there as some guy in his early 20’s gave me a lap dance. Cory whistled furiously and Rory tried to persuade some other guy to buy her a free drink. The three of us were drunk off our asses, which made everything even better. And Tre was the farthest thing from my mind.

[Kill]

Omg, omg. I have tears in my eyes. Seriously. I never have cried in like five years. Since I was nine. Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww..................................................WRITE! MORE! *sob*

[suicideXmakeover]

I'm writing. Calm down. You're crying? Wow. I'm flattered.

[suicideXmakeover]

Part 14

THREE YEARS LATER…
“What do you think of this one?” I asked, stepping out of the dressing room in a black bikini.
“I think you look amazing,” said Paul, walking out from behind the counter and placing his hands on my bare hips, kissing my neck.
“Paul, stop,” I giggled. I stood in Bikini Hut, the bathing suit shop where my new boyfriend, Paul, worked. I would often spend hours in there, trying on bathing suits and stuff, and I would more often then not leave without a single item. As I stood there, giggling and fidgeting with my bathing suit, I noticed a few girls a couple years younger than me staring at me from over by the surf board display. One of them looked kind of jealous.
I just smiled, pulled away from Paul and ducked back into the dressing room. I tugged off the top and grabbed my bra, eager to get dressed again. I had just begun getting dressed when I heard the song pounding over the loudspeaker in the store. “I wanna be your dominated love slave.”
“Damn,” I whispered, tugging on my pants quickly and leaving the bathing suit in the dressing room. “I have to go,” I said to Paul as I made a mad dash for the exit.
“See you tonight?” he called.
“Yup,” I said, waving over my shoulder and heading out to the parking lot. I took a deep breath and started the car. I turned on the radio. Just my luck. “Don’t wanna be an American idiot.” Tre’s drum beats hit in the background. I turned off the radio and drove out of the parking lot, heading to my apartment and trying not to think about how different my life would be if I hadn’t left him.

TRE’S POINT OF VIEW
“So, Mr. Cool, what have you been up to since you guys finished touring?” asked the interviewer, a young woman who appeared to be about 23.
“Not much,” I sighed, stretching. “I’ve been practicing with the guys and stuff.”
“And what about your love life?” the interviewer said, arching her eyebrow mysteriously. “How’s that going?”
“Eh, you know. Not a whole lot going on in that department.” Let’s talk about something different, I thought. Please.
“It seems like that’s the answer you’ve been giving everyone since you almost got married a few years back. Whatever happened with that?”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” I said. I hated interviews. I hated them so much.
“Come on,” the interviewer begged.
“No,” I said. “Either we talk about something else or this interview is over.” I gave her a look that told her I wasn’t kidding. She just nodded.
“So, I understand Green Day will be going on a farewell tour this fall. What made you guys decide to quit?”
“Well,” I said, reaching more comfortable territory. “We signed a contract with Reprise that said we would make 6 CDs, which we did. So our contract ended, and we didn’t want to sign another contract, we just figured we’d end it now.”
“There are lots of sad fans out there,” she said, shaking her head.
“I bet,” I nodded. “I’m going to miss it, but I’ve spent all my life doing this. I deserve to retire.”
The interviewer nodded. “Alright. Thank you for your time,” she said, shaking my hand and standing. I headed out toward the parking lot. That had been awkward. I hated when interviewers tried to pry into my private life.
I drove along the street, headed back toward my house when my cell phone rang. “Damn,” I mumbled as I dug through my car for the phone, almost hitting several cars in the process. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Billie said. “What are you up to?”
“I just had an interview.”
“With?”
“Some drum magazine. Billie, you know I’m not good at multitasking, and I’m driving.”
“Oh, sorry, does that mean you have to go? Cause I was going to tell you-”
Billie was interrupted by me screaming “FUCK!” as I plowed straight into another car.

[Kill]

Woah. This is some kinda weird coincedence. Read A Four Letter Word. ::twilight zone:: ne ner ne ner ne ner ne ner

[suicideXmakeover]

I did....it is really creepy. Hmmm...so weird.

[Kill]

GULP!

What if Mo and this alternate reality Tre met in the hospital! Haha, awesome plot that would be.

[suicideXmakeover]

That would be. Hmmmm...

[suicideXmakeover]

Part 15

TRE’S POINT OF VIEW
“What happened?” Billie asked. “Tre, you still there?”
I sat in my seat, trying to push the airbag away from my face. The windshield was shattered and I could hardly see a thing. My cell phone had landed in the seat next to me, and I could hear Billie screaming frantically. “HOLD ON!” I yelled. Billie shut up for I second. I managed to open the door, snatch my cell phone and climb out, all without killing myself. “Now, what is it?” I asked.
“What the fuck just happened?” Billie asked as I examined my car. It was totally. The windshield looked like some sort of mosaic. The front was bashed into the other car.
“I was in a car accident,” I said, looking at the other car. “Are you okay?” I called. I glanced around. Cars surrounding us slowed down, and some woman had pulled over and was calling 911. “Oh shit,” I whispered at the lack of response.
I pressed my face against the passenger’s side window. “Oh my God,” I whispered. The girl in the driver’s seat of the car seemed unconscious. Her airbag hadn’t deployed, and she just kind of sat there, a stream of blood falling from a cut on her forehead. She black hair, which had obviously been dyed quite a few times. “Vicky.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Billie said, hearing every word I said. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I really don’t.”
I hung up on Billie, ignoring the fact that he was still talking, and slipped the phone into my pocket. I watched her, hoping she wouldn’t move, in case she broke her neck or something. I looked at the woman who had just called 911. “Ma’am?” I called to her. She walked over.
“There’s an ambulance on the way,” she said. “Don’t worry. You have a cut, right here,” she said, placing her hand on her own lower lip to show me where. I reached up, but it didn’t seem important. Where was that ambulance? Vicky could be dying. I stared in the car at her.

VICKY’S POINT OF VIEW
Everything hurt. Especially my head. I tried to move, but couldn’t. I couldn’t hear much, mostly just someone mumbling. I tried to open my mouth to say something, but every time I tried to move, my body hurt worse. Ow, I thought. What the hell happened?
I sat there, trying to move, but to no avail when I heard his voice. “She’s unconscious. Help her. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
Tre, I thought. What’s Tre doing here? It didn’t really matter to me, though. Whatever the reason, I was glad he was there.
I heard sirens, then I heard the car door open. My body ached as someone lifted me, very carefully, out of the car. They put a brace on my neck and laid me on a stretcher. Apparently I was going to be taken to the hospital. Tre’s voice got louder. “Can I come?” he asked.
The voice of someone I didn’t know said, “Sure.”
I guess I was in the ambulance then, since I wasn’t really moving anymore. I could feel Tre’s hand latch around mine as he said, “It’s okay. You’re going to be alright. Everything will be fine.”
And this time I actually believed him.

[Kill]

Daw! Weird freak accidents DO happen for a reason!

[suicideXmakeover]

You know it.