Dead Man Walking (Glanny Fic)

Chapter 3

I don't know how long I've been in here, but it feels like forever. I've lost all concept of time. The silence bores into my skull, almost making itself more powerful than the darkness. I don't know how much longer I can go on like this.

All I've got to 'entertain' myself is that final memory of Glen. It's playing over and over again in my mind, etching itself deeper and deeper into my soul. Reminding me of the piece of shit I have become.

How could I do that to him? And more importantly, how could I have enjoyed that look on his face? It was the single most traumatic sight I have ever laid my eyes upon. And yet I lapped it up, cherished the moment and tried to make it worse for him. In effect, making it better for me. Have I really gone that far? Is that really what I'm going to be like for the rest of my life?

I shuffle uncomfortably in my corner. When they threw me to the floor, this is where I landed. And what with this straitjacket, I can't really move too much. So in all the time that I've been here, I haven't moved an inch.

My lips are still burning with the feel of Glen. Even though the situation was fucked up, and despite the fear he felt, his lips were still so soft. And I know it was his terror, but his lip quivered. And his breath hitched. Is it wrong of me to pretend that it was nerves and not blind horror that caused those reactions?

I love him. Oh God, I love him so much. I want to get better for him. But this thing that I've become...I'm starting to think that there is no getting better.

A crack of light shocks me and I turn away from it. It hurts my eyes so much...

“You have a visitor.” The voice comes from behind the door.

“Who?” I croak. Not speaking for so long really has a toll on your throat. Can't even begin to think how my singing voice would sound like...

“Calls himself Mark.”

Mark. My best friend. Oh God, how long has it been since I saw him? He can't come and visit very often, and I understand that. What with the band failing, I know he's had to start making ends meet for the sake of his family. But that doesn't stop how much it hurts not seeing him.

“Come on, Daniel. Get up now. We need to get you to the visiting room.”

“You're really going to trust me? After what I did?”

“We can't stop you from having visitors, Daniel. And I think a week in confinement is long enough. So, can I come in and get you?”

I don't answer. I can only assume the nurse takes it as a yes, because the door opens and I'm drowned by light. I wince in pain and try to hide away. But it's all in vain, because I'm dragged to my feet and pulled out of the room.

Everything is so white. Clinically white. Glen would have a fit here. I know how much he loves the colour black. And he looks so fucking adorable in it too. I can't even begin to see him standing against these walls...

We turn a corner and I see Mark sitting in a big glass room. I'm pretty sure I've only ever seen a room like this on the reruns of Lie To Me. I didn't actually know that these kinds of rooms actually existed. I must be a really high risk to have to sit in a room like this.

The nurse leads me in and the look on Mark's face is heartbreaking. I'm so glad the other side of me hasn't awoken, because I'm pretty sure I would do everything in my power to make it a hell of a lot worse. Thankfully, I'm hating that look on his face. In fact, it's killing me.

I take a seat opposite him and he sighs, rubbing his face with his hands. We don't say anything for a while. This isn't normal for the two of us. We usually can't keep quiet around each other. But I guess this situation isn't really normal, is it?

“How's it going?” I finally manage to wrench out of my mind. Pathetic, but what else can I say?

He still doesn't say anything. Oh God, this is unbearable. I know I'm a head-case right now, but I didn't expect it to be like this. Eventually he lifts his head up and I can see the streaks his tears have left. Mark never cries.

“What have you done?” he chokes. His question stuns me into shame, and I dip my head. “We thought you were getting better, Dan. Every time I call up, they told me you were doing good. Making progress. And then you go and do that shit to Glen. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I take this all on the chin. I don't blame him for feeling this way. I've pretty much fucked everything up for him. The Script was his life. And now it's gone. Gone because of me. So it's only right for him to get angry at me. The least I can do is let him talk.

“I mean, shit, you're in a fucking jacket, man! You only see this kinda shit in films! But there you are, sat in front of me, looking like shit in a straitjacket! It's just not right, Dan. Not right at all.”

“I know.”

“But do you? Do you really?” I don't answer. “Are you even fucking trying?”

“Yes.”

“So why did Glen come back in tears last week, telling me that you'd gone and attacked him?”

Attack. That's such a harsh word. Is that what he thinks that was? Is that...is that what you call that kind of thing?

“I don't know,” I eventually mumble.

“All he did was ask you how things were going. And you went and...I don't even know what you did. He wouldn't tell me. But whatever you did really fucked him up.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I don't even know if I believe you any more.”

I look up at him and I see the sincerity in his eyes. He genuinely doesn't believe me. The realisation stabs me in the chest like a knife. What the hell do I say to that?

“You need to get your act together, dude. I don't give a shit how. Write shit down, talk to someone...”

“Talking doesn't work.”

“Make it work.”

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A/N - Hey guys. What are you all thinking so far of the story? Mark is now in the question. D'you think he has a point? And will Danny listen to him? Let me know what you think! I'm just...I'm so overwhelmed by everyone's comments. Nearly 250 reads already, and I've only written 4 parts! It's just insane. You all are just so amazing. Best. Followers. Ever. Vote, comment, do your thing guys! Much love x