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Chapter or Story
Disclaimer is that I don't own them other than Caitrin Parker, she is mine and mine alone, this started as an excerise to clear cobwebs out of my head to work on my other stories and here's what evolved. . . . there are character deaths and some spoilers in this part twisted to fit my personal taste . . . . . I have to thank Niceole for proof reading. PG-13
Memories Of Long Ago
part 9
by Trish
I slip the disk labeled number one, out of it's protective sleeve and slide it in to the opening on the veiwer, waiting. For what, I'm not sure.
"Sydney, Mr. Broots,": it starts out, I press the stop button and wrestle with the thoughts that perhaps I should call them, but curiousity has gotten the better of me, after all Vivienne said that Cox wanted me to have them. Hitting the play button, I take a seat in the chair that's in front of mother's desk.
"If you are watching these DSAS, than I am dead. I want to give a modest chronicle of what happened all those many years ago. I have thought of what happened often since the stroke, that left me unable to move and impeded my speech, at times. It's strange that we once both worked for a place that was known for its wonderful research projects and then suddenly changes turned the place into something horrendous. I live with ghosts, Sydney, and spend every waking hour trying to silence them. Since his death, nothing made sense and truth be told, isn't that a funny phrase, coming from the likes of me, the truth. I should have seen it coming. Jarod's death at the hands of Lyle. Yes, there it is out in the open. As I tell you this, I sit in this bed with the door open hoping to make my room here feel larger. To block the ghosts, yet she wasn't a ghost, was she, Sydney? I almost questioned my sanity when she waltzed in here. They won or did they?"
I stop the disk, and rub small circles on my throbbing temples only because Cox stutters and starts again. I then move my fingers to my eyes, which burn from the threat of tears. My body aches with fatigue and yet I breathe deeply to control my anger. I push myself up out of the chair, and make my way to the front door. Pulling the heavy wooden door open, I stand on the porch, inhaling and then exhaling, my breath turning to white puffs in the frigid air. I am completely numb and yet I know that I must go back inside and watch the rest of the disks.
***
Resuming my seat, I press the play button and listen fascinated:
"Lyle thought that he could hid the evidence that pointed the finger at him, but he wasn't smart enough for that. I knew that Lyle felt betrayed, his own father shunned him, the triumverate had little use for him and Jarod's worth to the Centre increased so much that the green eyed monster began to rear its ugly head. Jarod handed over information that he had emassed while outside. . . information regarding Lyle's sordid past. Information that I turned over to the triumverate with preverse pleasure. The night that I found Lyle in Jarod's cell, hypodermic in hand, I should have listened to the warning bells, that trouble was looming. Lyle stormed out of the cell, rushing past me without seeing, his face flushed with anger and his eyes narrowed by his rage at being caught where he wasn't suppose to be. Jarod's importance to the Centre was eating at Lyle's soul, like a poison and it coursed through him working its deadly intention. By all accounts Lyle seemed to be gripped by some type of madness. After the pretender's death, I called for an investigation. I knew what the results of that would be and for that Mr. Broots, I do apologize. For I had already pulled all of the evidence from the mainframe that would have proven Lyle guilty. It wasn't to protect him, only to give him a sense of false security, that he had managed to elude detection."
I poke an angry finger at the eject button and watch in slow motion as the holder that houses the disk slides out effortlessly. I want to pitch it, smash it to pieces but that would accomplish nothing. I want to continue with the disks but the day has gotten away from me, so I head to the bathroom to shower and dress. I am tired and yet mother knew that by giving me, my father's journal that I would be drawn to it like a moth to a flame and adding my discoveries to their story only encourage me to uncover it all. However, I can not stop thinking how unkind life is, how cruel fate, how odd chance. It seemed as though my mother and father were cursed; that some evil thwarted their families and drove out happiness
Refreshed, fed and ready to return to the memories of Mr. Cox, I pick up off the kitchen table, the silver ring that Vivienne had given to me as well. Unsure of it's meaning? What did it symbolize, perhaps it's to prove to Sydney, Broots and Angelo that he was gone. I slip the disk that is labeled number two into the machine and expect to be greet to Cox's stuttering voice, instead it's timestamp.
Twenty-five years ago.
feedback is appreciated . . . . Ractrish@aol.com
part 9
by Trish
I slip the disk labeled number one, out of it's protective sleeve and slide it in to the opening on the veiwer, waiting. For what, I'm not sure.
"Sydney, Mr. Broots,": it starts out, I press the stop button and wrestle with the thoughts that perhaps I should call them, but curiousity has gotten the better of me, after all Vivienne said that Cox wanted me to have them. Hitting the play button, I take a seat in the chair that's in front of mother's desk.
"If you are watching these DSAS, than I am dead. I want to give a modest chronicle of what happened all those many years ago. I have thought of what happened often since the stroke, that left me unable to move and impeded my speech, at times. It's strange that we once both worked for a place that was known for its wonderful research projects and then suddenly changes turned the place into something horrendous. I live with ghosts, Sydney, and spend every waking hour trying to silence them. Since his death, nothing made sense and truth be told, isn't that a funny phrase, coming from the likes of me, the truth. I should have seen it coming. Jarod's death at the hands of Lyle. Yes, there it is out in the open. As I tell you this, I sit in this bed with the door open hoping to make my room here feel larger. To block the ghosts, yet she wasn't a ghost, was she, Sydney? I almost questioned my sanity when she waltzed in here. They won or did they?"
I stop the disk, and rub small circles on my throbbing temples only because Cox stutters and starts again. I then move my fingers to my eyes, which burn from the threat of tears. My body aches with fatigue and yet I breathe deeply to control my anger. I push myself up out of the chair, and make my way to the front door. Pulling the heavy wooden door open, I stand on the porch, inhaling and then exhaling, my breath turning to white puffs in the frigid air. I am completely numb and yet I know that I must go back inside and watch the rest of the disks.
***
Resuming my seat, I press the play button and listen fascinated:
"Lyle thought that he could hid the evidence that pointed the finger at him, but he wasn't smart enough for that. I knew that Lyle felt betrayed, his own father shunned him, the triumverate had little use for him and Jarod's worth to the Centre increased so much that the green eyed monster began to rear its ugly head. Jarod handed over information that he had emassed while outside. . . information regarding Lyle's sordid past. Information that I turned over to the triumverate with preverse pleasure. The night that I found Lyle in Jarod's cell, hypodermic in hand, I should have listened to the warning bells, that trouble was looming. Lyle stormed out of the cell, rushing past me without seeing, his face flushed with anger and his eyes narrowed by his rage at being caught where he wasn't suppose to be. Jarod's importance to the Centre was eating at Lyle's soul, like a poison and it coursed through him working its deadly intention. By all accounts Lyle seemed to be gripped by some type of madness. After the pretender's death, I called for an investigation. I knew what the results of that would be and for that Mr. Broots, I do apologize. For I had already pulled all of the evidence from the mainframe that would have proven Lyle guilty. It wasn't to protect him, only to give him a sense of false security, that he had managed to elude detection."
I poke an angry finger at the eject button and watch in slow motion as the holder that houses the disk slides out effortlessly. I want to pitch it, smash it to pieces but that would accomplish nothing. I want to continue with the disks but the day has gotten away from me, so I head to the bathroom to shower and dress. I am tired and yet mother knew that by giving me, my father's journal that I would be drawn to it like a moth to a flame and adding my discoveries to their story only encourage me to uncover it all. However, I can not stop thinking how unkind life is, how cruel fate, how odd chance. It seemed as though my mother and father were cursed; that some evil thwarted their families and drove out happiness
Refreshed, fed and ready to return to the memories of Mr. Cox, I pick up off the kitchen table, the silver ring that Vivienne had given to me as well. Unsure of it's meaning? What did it symbolize, perhaps it's to prove to Sydney, Broots and Angelo that he was gone. I slip the disk that is labeled number two into the machine and expect to be greet to Cox's stuttering voice, instead it's timestamp.
Twenty-five years ago.
feedback is appreciated . . . . Ractrish@aol.com
