The Mind's Death

He has been wandering the streets for hours. Hours? Yes, hours...or it seemed like hours. Perhaps it was only minutes? He was in no state of mind to tell, barely conscious though he remained walking...staggering was more like it and no, he wasn't drunk. He knew he was walking, he knew of the bitter cold digging into his bones...was it raining out? No... But he knew where he was going. Yes, he was going somewhere...but where? No, no, he didn't know, but he kept walking nonetheless. It was midnight, or perhaps it wasn't, but it was pitch-black...hell, even the moon was tucked away somewhere, the kind of night where only the streetlights offered anything to see with. Finally, he stopped, or rather; his feet just stopped moving in front of a bar...after more hours of walking. Shivering so much his bones seemed to rattle together, he turned his hunched figure towards the sign over the door, "Bar". Creativity was the last thing from his mind and though he wasn't normally a person who drank, he pushed his shaking form through the door any ways. Pausing in the doorway, no one turned to look at him, too wrapped up in their own conversations, thoughts or activities...but still, not even a glance. Stepping forward, he carefully made his way through the noisy crowd, towards the bar and despite the warmth inside, his bones still arched from that piercing cold that seemed to grow from inside his body. Sliding onto a stool in front of the bartender, he glanced around at all the people who seemed to be living around and without him. Still hunched over, he turned to face the man behind the bar but even he seemed too preoccupied to deal with the poor sod.

"Exc - excuse me..." his voice was shaky and unsure and being ignored didn't seem to help either. He looked down at his own trembling hands...maybe it was a dream? Yes! A Nightmare! But just as this realization finally knocked him upside the head, the bartender stopped in front of him, hands flat on the counter top. "Can I...um, can I have a glass of whiskey?" Whiskey? Is that what he really wanted? No, no, he didn't know, he's never been in a bar before...yes, yes a glass of whiskey will calm his nerves and shouldn't it warm him up as well? The tender merely shook his head in... Disapproval? Did he have money on himself? Well, even if he didn't, the tender wouldn't know...perhaps he already looks too drunk to drink anymore...yes, sitting there shaking like he was, that must be it. But perhaps the tender will listen to him any ways...oh, he must listen, they always listen in the movies, why should this be any different? But what did he h ave to say? There was something...something...something happened. Yes, that's it, something happened, but what? He couldn't remember. But that's why he was wandering, because something happened.

The tender still stood in front of him, not really looking at him...more or less looking over the rest of the bar. How could he piece things together? Perhaps if he back tracked his steps...but to where? He couldn't remember anything before walking into this bar, but he didn't have amnesia...at least, he didn't think so. Sebastian...Sebastian Vaughn...yes, yes that was his name! But...reaching around behind himself he quickly pulled out his wallet and just dumped all of the contents out onto the counter in front of him without so much as a glance from the tender. No, he didn't have any money on him...a couple credit cards, a few scrapes of paper and his driver's license...yes, his license! He quickly scooped it up in his numb fingers and bent lower to peer at it...Vaughn, Sebastian...28...5'10"...and then his picture, which of course looked more like a mug shot. Lowering his hands, he carefully placed the license back down on the counter with a soft snap, then started shuffling through the various other things until he came upon a small picture of...him and his wife? Yes, yes, him and Monica. A small smile traced his pale, cold lips, running his index and middle fingers over the picture. It was taken on their first anniversary, but how long ago was that? They both looked so happy, but...damnit, why can't he remember!? He set the picture down, then rubbed his hands over his face roughly...damnit, damnit, damnit.

Sitting there for quite some time, his hands covering his face with spread fingers, perhaps even rocking back and forth gently...why hadn't anyone noticed him? No... No... It doesn't matter, let them live their happy little, fake lives, what did it matter to him? So long as they left him alone...yes, alone. Lowering his hands slowly, he caught sight of something else in that mess that had spilled from his wallet...one of the piece of papers in her hand writing...Doctor's appointment...October 28th...a date? Another piece to put together? A jerk of his hand, he pulled back the sleeve of his shirt, looking to his watch...November 1st. Four days ago...what happened four days ago? He drew in a sharp breath, a gasp...like someone just remembering something that could be life threatening, but it wasn't. She was pregnant, that's why she went to the doctor's, for a pregnancy test. She had rushed right home that night to phone him and tell him the ne ws, for he was out of town finishing up a business deal. He could hear her delighted voice still..."Sebastian...? Sebastian, we did it! I'm pregnant!" He wanted to go home that night, but...the business deals delayed him the next couple of days. The next night, he left as soon as possible...rushing home, alone on the highway, in the middle of the night. He tried not to run any red lights, but this one light...he could have sworn it was only red for less than a second...surely no one else would be on the road at that time. But Monica...didn't she say something about visiting her mother to deliver the news?

Shaking his head, he started mumbling to himself...no, no, he didn't want to remember anymore...there was nothing to remember! He just had to get home...yes, home to Monica and their unborn child. Looking up from under his eyelids he tried to catch the eyes of the tender, but the giant man just continued to look about the bar before the tender settled his eyes on the woman who slid onto a stool on his left. She brushed back her light, blonde hair, offering Sebastian a polite smile...was it really towards him? Or the man sitting on his right. Having ordered, the tender set a drink down in front of her. Once again, he tested his voice, "Um...I'll...I'll have what she's having...", gesturing to the woman next to him. Yes, yes, he so desperately wanted to get drunk...get drunk, fall into a drunken sleep, wake up with a hangover and forget all about this night, but...why? Why forget about it? Nothing happened...losing himself in his thoughts, he didn't notice the tender was ignoring him once again.

"No...", he clenched his eyes shut. He couldn't let his mind wander, it kept going back to that one red light. It was raining then, splattering off and dripping down the windshield, demanding to gain entrance...funny how one remembers such little details...as if time slows down, imbedding each second into one's mind. That's why he was cold...yes, he was wet...wet and cold from the rain. But how did he get out of his car? Opening his eyes, he slowly looked around, eyeing all the happy and laughing faces. Why the hell is everyone so happy? What's wrong with these people? He needed air...yes, air, he couldn't breathe. Pushing himself from his stool with difficulty, he turned, leaving his wallet and everything on the bar counter where it was, and made he way back through the crowd, staggering and gasping for breath. He stumbled out the door, taking in a long breath of air as it hit his face like spikes. Blinking a couple times he glanced about the empty, wet street before collapsing back against the ground...he still couldn't breathe, why? The images around him were fading, becoming distorted like a virtual reality imploding on itself. He grasped the collar of his shirt and tugged on it, trying to give his neck more room as he slide down the wall until he hit the ground. He just needed to rest...yes, rest, sleep, forget...and his eyes soon fell closed....


The sunlight penetrated his eyelids like shards of glass before his eyes actually flickered open, only to immediately squint against this invading brightness. Glancing around, he found he was still against the wall and the street was virtually empty save for a couple of people, idly walking in random directions, and the scattered fall leaves lazily rolling down along the pavement. Using the wall for support he managed to push himself up to his feet...but once standing, what now? He turned, being pulled to his left by some unknown force, his feet moving of their own will, though still staggering like a drunkard. Those couple of people...no, they didn't so much as glance at him, as if a drunk man, in a business suit, staggering down the street in the middle of the day was a normality. It wasn't, was it? He soon found himself stopped in front of an iron gate, decorated with vines...blinking, he's been here before...it was...it was the cemetery. P ushing open the huge gate, he slipped through, letting his feet once again carry him with that staggering step. Why was he here? There was no reason for him to be here, walking among the dead, he should be home with his wife...but.... He stopped, his feet having found glass to stand upon, squinting against the sun to peer up towards the top of the hill he now stood in front of. A single figured stood, silhouetted against that forever bright light...a woman's figure, view from the side, her hands lightly clasped over her stomach. He knew that figure, so beautiful and so familiar she was...but why was she standing there? Why were her eyes cast downward? The breeze picked up slightly, causing her hair to drift out behind her and the leaves to rustle and roll lazily about the grass, colours of red, orange, yellow, brown floating down from the trees.

"Monica...", he tried to take a step forward, his hand reaching up and outward for her, like a child reaching for its mother, but suddenly he fell back...no, he was pulled back, sucked and swallowed into the earth...it enveloped him like a huge monster you hear about in Greek myth. He tried to scream, tried to call out to her, to someone...tried to move, but he was just sucked down more. Shards of white light pierce through his eyelids again, forcing them open...he didn't even remember closing them. But he now squinted up against a brilliant white radiance, brighter than the sun itself and it felt as if he was being pulled through a tunnel, the light engulfing him. Heaven...?.... The thought barely entered his mind before a shattering scream ripped through his head, a thick red liquid seeping and dripping over that beautiful light and again he was sucked backwards, flames licking up the sides of his newly found tunnel. The scream...faded, only to be replaced by an image...a contorted face...in pain, shock, realization of death...Monica's face. It filled his mind, ripping him apart piece by piece...his soul being stretched to the very edges with one last, hard yank backwards...consciousness slipping into eternal torture...