Post by theravenmattknox on Jul 4, 2021 1:57:10 GMT -5
Europe was so different from the United States. Whereas the states, in every facet there was that spirit of rebellion that birthed it so long ago? Europe still gave off the air of aristocracy and tradition older than most family trees.
The salt air blew a fine mist into Matthew Knox’s face, considerably clearer and cleaner than it had been before boarding the ferry. The small island of Langeeog, Lower Saxony was visible on the near horizon. He let a slow exhale out through his nose as the ferry rocked gently over the mighty Atlantic’s waves, much softer and forgiving than the waves crashing inside of him.
Fourteen years. Nearly a decade and a half, he had mourned her. The event that served as a crossroad to his life. Her ghost, the ghost of that night, was what drove him over the edge and turned him into the miserable son of a bitch the world saw now. Leaving aside the obvious questions of how...he needed to know why?
What purpose did scarring him serve her? Why would she, or anyone for that matter, inflict that sort of trauma WILLINGLY onto another human being?
He dared a look over the side, knowing the reflection that would meet him was not his own, but a perversion of it. Dead, whitened eyes and an unnatural grin. A shiver as he turned away. Deftly, he retrieved a pair of ray bans from his breast pocket and put them on. Half so no one could see what he was assured was a crazed, terrified gleam to his eye. And also, frankly, the german sun, however scarce, was not his hangover’s friend.
The rest of the ferry ride was uneventful. The sparse crowd he did his best to blend into upon the barge were mostly locals. As had been noted by his cousin’s private eye, this was the perfect Island to disappear to. As the details of the humble, little Island came into view he was apt to believe the scoundrel. Brick and mortar houses, roads that had been laid between one of the two great wars.
Time seemed to stand still here..
He felt the sneer tug at his face. How appropriate. After dooming him to one moment in time, she runs to hide in a place stuck in another era in time.
He stepped off the barge and onto the dock deftly, looking like a spectre in a tailored black suit. The blue shirt he wore beneath the jacket had its top two buttons undone. The jacket’s cuffs were undone to match. Something leaning more casual so the town wouldn’t report a new haunting. Something to hide from her much as it was to attract her attention.
He wanted her to see him coming. He wanted her to feel that grip of ice on her heart as the dam she built finally breaks, and those lies. Those poisonous, life ruining lies would come crashing down and sweep her away with him, to drown together once and for all…
He let go the breath he had been holding, the chill on the back of his neck bit down as the hairs stood on end in response. He let out a small mutter to himself.
“Liar.”
The word was empty, hollow and utterly defeated. The fires of rage crashed into by wave upon wave of utter and total angst. Torn between hating her for destroying him, and hating himself for letting one moment define as much of his life as it had. He halted long enough to take a steadying breath and fight down the lump in his throat, a pale hand shooting up to run through his hair.
With a slow exhale, he steeled, and stilled, himself. Throwing his courage to the sticking post and resolving to leave this Island with some form of closure, and the ability to put a marker on the grave he had buried this all in. To finally rest without seeing her falling away..away...further away until oblivion. Like clockwork, his eyes would open before the sickening impact. In the early years the nightmare woke him with a start. Now, it barely opened his eyes.
He hailed down a taxi as he finally stepped off the dock. The old Opal pulled up to a stop curbside and he slid into the back, deftly passing the driver a note with an address scrawled upon it. The driver nodded, said something likely pleasant in German, and they were in motion.
And so was his anticipation.
As the taxi moved, and the sights began to blend together his tired mind found itself drifting, as it had become so apt to do between fights, and he found himself lost in a memory.
He hadn’t hardly moved a muscle since he got back to his room after getting home from the hospital. He was tased, bashed his head and taken in for monitoring. Apparently in some frantic, feral fervor he had attempted to refuse access to Charlotte’s body. He, like so many others who had been faced with such unflattering retellings of their actions, wanted to refuse the reality but the bandages around his head and the empty, hollow, million tonne iron weight on his chest reminded him.
She was gone.
He rolled over onto his left side then, blankets long since discarded to the floor. He curled as tight as he could into a fetal position, staring at the open window onto his balcony. A flash of the memory of her death embracing leap caused him to clinch his eyes shut even in the evening’s darkness. When he opened them, he spied the hallway light under his door and the passing of feet.
They stopped, ever so dutifully outside the door and listened for any sort of sign. He smiled despite the weight, despite the jagged edges of what he was convinced was a broken heart ripping through his chest and turning the air to glass. He let out a scoff as if to affirm his status within the living and within a few more seconds, the shadows of the footsteps shuffled off down the hall.
Twenty Seven, living with his retired wrestler father turned trainer and coach. But tonight, tonight it was much closer to the simpler view of New Father monitoring the angry young child who had a tendency to lock himself away and brood when he wasn’t causing some sort of ruckus in the schoolyard.
Simpler times.
Simpler men.
He pushed himself up then, and let his legs dangle off the edge of the bed. For the rest of the night, with the waves of the pacific crashing in the distance, he stared out the open window into the gaping maw of the night’s darkness. He had faded as the sun rose, it’s light a lie without hers in tow.
Charlotte James had died.
She took Matthew Knox with her.
-----
“Herr? Sir, wir sind hier.”
The words shattered the reverie, and within a second he regained his bearings. He looked blankly around where he had been brought, before producing his wallet and sliding the man more than the fare was worth and stepping out. After taking a moment to gather his things, Matthew stared at what was before him.
A small, quaint house. White picket fence. Nondescript for all intents and purposes.
The perfect place to disappear.
Jennifer...his cousin’s...man had done an extensive amount of research into this. A maddening amount, enough to where he knew the house across from hers had been on the market for months with no interested buyers. Which, had he been in the market, Matthew would have rectified. The island however far removed from time and civilization possessed a certain charm.
And who doesn’t want to disappear, some days?
He walked casually to the deserted home with the confidence on a homeowner getting off work. He lifted the welcome mat to be greeted by a set of keys that had been noted as being there and let himself in. The echo of the opening door, the hiss of the wind bounced off the walls and confirmed the vacancy to him.
And so, he took up position next to a window in the den, facing directly to the house occupied by a dead woman.
He couldn’t tell anyone how long he sat there. With the anxiety of the situation and the developing chemistry with someone back home, Hours, minutes and seconds all seemed to infinitely be trading places in his head. However, they all stopped as a blue Mercedes GLE pulled into the driveway across the street.
His nostrils flared, he leaned closer to the window and waited.
A second later, the door opened on the passenger side and there she was. His heart skipped a beat and waves of conflict crashed into one another within The Raven. Age had been kind to her. She looked just as he remembered.
She hadn’t suffered at all.
He felt the rage begin to boil and went to stand, but the driver’s door opened. A man, complete unremarkable in every way, stepped out. Matthew sneered as he went to the rear door, just behind his own. What kind of man doesn’t instantly go to join his betrothed?
A Father.
Charlotte had moved to join him, leaning in and retrieving a bundle in a blanket. He felt the breath hitch as another child, not much older than the bundle but much more mobile stepped out to join his parents. Raven black hair like hers. The smallest of the family bounded to the front door, parents in tow.
Charlotte stopped by the front door, waving the small one in and handing the youngest to the man. She turned to tend to some potted plant, but froze. The feeling of being watched had risen the hairs up on the back of her neck. She darted her eyes up, looking up and down the street. Into every window..
He wasn’t there for her to see. He snuck out the back, through a gate, and down an alleyway.
Time had been lost.
She had found something else.
He knew, and didn’t want to know.
Not anymore.
Besides….It was not his to know.
The salt air blew a fine mist into Matthew Knox’s face, considerably clearer and cleaner than it had been before boarding the ferry. The small island of Langeeog, Lower Saxony was visible on the near horizon. He let a slow exhale out through his nose as the ferry rocked gently over the mighty Atlantic’s waves, much softer and forgiving than the waves crashing inside of him.
Fourteen years. Nearly a decade and a half, he had mourned her. The event that served as a crossroad to his life. Her ghost, the ghost of that night, was what drove him over the edge and turned him into the miserable son of a bitch the world saw now. Leaving aside the obvious questions of how...he needed to know why?
What purpose did scarring him serve her? Why would she, or anyone for that matter, inflict that sort of trauma WILLINGLY onto another human being?
He dared a look over the side, knowing the reflection that would meet him was not his own, but a perversion of it. Dead, whitened eyes and an unnatural grin. A shiver as he turned away. Deftly, he retrieved a pair of ray bans from his breast pocket and put them on. Half so no one could see what he was assured was a crazed, terrified gleam to his eye. And also, frankly, the german sun, however scarce, was not his hangover’s friend.
The rest of the ferry ride was uneventful. The sparse crowd he did his best to blend into upon the barge were mostly locals. As had been noted by his cousin’s private eye, this was the perfect Island to disappear to. As the details of the humble, little Island came into view he was apt to believe the scoundrel. Brick and mortar houses, roads that had been laid between one of the two great wars.
Time seemed to stand still here..
He felt the sneer tug at his face. How appropriate. After dooming him to one moment in time, she runs to hide in a place stuck in another era in time.
He stepped off the barge and onto the dock deftly, looking like a spectre in a tailored black suit. The blue shirt he wore beneath the jacket had its top two buttons undone. The jacket’s cuffs were undone to match. Something leaning more casual so the town wouldn’t report a new haunting. Something to hide from her much as it was to attract her attention.
He wanted her to see him coming. He wanted her to feel that grip of ice on her heart as the dam she built finally breaks, and those lies. Those poisonous, life ruining lies would come crashing down and sweep her away with him, to drown together once and for all…
He let go the breath he had been holding, the chill on the back of his neck bit down as the hairs stood on end in response. He let out a small mutter to himself.
“Liar.”
The word was empty, hollow and utterly defeated. The fires of rage crashed into by wave upon wave of utter and total angst. Torn between hating her for destroying him, and hating himself for letting one moment define as much of his life as it had. He halted long enough to take a steadying breath and fight down the lump in his throat, a pale hand shooting up to run through his hair.
With a slow exhale, he steeled, and stilled, himself. Throwing his courage to the sticking post and resolving to leave this Island with some form of closure, and the ability to put a marker on the grave he had buried this all in. To finally rest without seeing her falling away..away...further away until oblivion. Like clockwork, his eyes would open before the sickening impact. In the early years the nightmare woke him with a start. Now, it barely opened his eyes.
He hailed down a taxi as he finally stepped off the dock. The old Opal pulled up to a stop curbside and he slid into the back, deftly passing the driver a note with an address scrawled upon it. The driver nodded, said something likely pleasant in German, and they were in motion.
And so was his anticipation.
As the taxi moved, and the sights began to blend together his tired mind found itself drifting, as it had become so apt to do between fights, and he found himself lost in a memory.
Sometime in 2007
Days after she ‘died’..
He hadn’t hardly moved a muscle since he got back to his room after getting home from the hospital. He was tased, bashed his head and taken in for monitoring. Apparently in some frantic, feral fervor he had attempted to refuse access to Charlotte’s body. He, like so many others who had been faced with such unflattering retellings of their actions, wanted to refuse the reality but the bandages around his head and the empty, hollow, million tonne iron weight on his chest reminded him.
She was gone.
He rolled over onto his left side then, blankets long since discarded to the floor. He curled as tight as he could into a fetal position, staring at the open window onto his balcony. A flash of the memory of her death embracing leap caused him to clinch his eyes shut even in the evening’s darkness. When he opened them, he spied the hallway light under his door and the passing of feet.
They stopped, ever so dutifully outside the door and listened for any sort of sign. He smiled despite the weight, despite the jagged edges of what he was convinced was a broken heart ripping through his chest and turning the air to glass. He let out a scoff as if to affirm his status within the living and within a few more seconds, the shadows of the footsteps shuffled off down the hall.
Twenty Seven, living with his retired wrestler father turned trainer and coach. But tonight, tonight it was much closer to the simpler view of New Father monitoring the angry young child who had a tendency to lock himself away and brood when he wasn’t causing some sort of ruckus in the schoolyard.
Simpler times.
Simpler men.
He pushed himself up then, and let his legs dangle off the edge of the bed. For the rest of the night, with the waves of the pacific crashing in the distance, he stared out the open window into the gaping maw of the night’s darkness. He had faded as the sun rose, it’s light a lie without hers in tow.
Charlotte James had died.
She took Matthew Knox with her.
-----
“Herr? Sir, wir sind hier.”
The words shattered the reverie, and within a second he regained his bearings. He looked blankly around where he had been brought, before producing his wallet and sliding the man more than the fare was worth and stepping out. After taking a moment to gather his things, Matthew stared at what was before him.
A small, quaint house. White picket fence. Nondescript for all intents and purposes.
The perfect place to disappear.
Jennifer...his cousin’s...man had done an extensive amount of research into this. A maddening amount, enough to where he knew the house across from hers had been on the market for months with no interested buyers. Which, had he been in the market, Matthew would have rectified. The island however far removed from time and civilization possessed a certain charm.
And who doesn’t want to disappear, some days?
He walked casually to the deserted home with the confidence on a homeowner getting off work. He lifted the welcome mat to be greeted by a set of keys that had been noted as being there and let himself in. The echo of the opening door, the hiss of the wind bounced off the walls and confirmed the vacancy to him.
And so, he took up position next to a window in the den, facing directly to the house occupied by a dead woman.
He couldn’t tell anyone how long he sat there. With the anxiety of the situation and the developing chemistry with someone back home, Hours, minutes and seconds all seemed to infinitely be trading places in his head. However, they all stopped as a blue Mercedes GLE pulled into the driveway across the street.
His nostrils flared, he leaned closer to the window and waited.
A second later, the door opened on the passenger side and there she was. His heart skipped a beat and waves of conflict crashed into one another within The Raven. Age had been kind to her. She looked just as he remembered.
She hadn’t suffered at all.
He felt the rage begin to boil and went to stand, but the driver’s door opened. A man, complete unremarkable in every way, stepped out. Matthew sneered as he went to the rear door, just behind his own. What kind of man doesn’t instantly go to join his betrothed?
A Father.
Charlotte had moved to join him, leaning in and retrieving a bundle in a blanket. He felt the breath hitch as another child, not much older than the bundle but much more mobile stepped out to join his parents. Raven black hair like hers. The smallest of the family bounded to the front door, parents in tow.
Charlotte stopped by the front door, waving the small one in and handing the youngest to the man. She turned to tend to some potted plant, but froze. The feeling of being watched had risen the hairs up on the back of her neck. She darted her eyes up, looking up and down the street. Into every window..
He wasn’t there for her to see. He snuck out the back, through a gate, and down an alleyway.
Time had been lost.
She had found something else.
He knew, and didn’t want to know.
Not anymore.
Besides….It was not his to know.