Unsung Requiem by C.L. Stone
Funebre
(Funeral)
Victor
There was only pain.
Every movement, from when he got pulled from the car.
By North.
And he held him. Held him so close Victor felt warm under the pain.
North wiped at his face, until Victor cried out.
Suddenly, North was gone. Eventually, he was forced to lie back and was carried into an ambulance.
And he was alone. At least, not with people he knew.
They spoke to him. People wearing EMS uniforms. People in police uniforms.
But he didn’t answer. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t.
He didn’t trust himself. He left his name. That was it.
He did what they said. He breathed from a face mask that gave him oxygen. He lifted an arm when he could.
His face was pain.
His body hurt.
Sang…
He wanted to ask but couldn’t.
And then there wasn’t pain, only sleep.
♥♥♥
In the night, there was a melody on his mind. Something that sounded familiar. Some slow, sad song, maybe a nocturne, something appropriate for darkness.
Was it familiar or was he just making up the notes? He couldn’t tell.
He heard voices, but he couldn’t hear well over the song playing in his head.
“I want to know everything he said.” It was his mother’s voice. He knew that one. Louder now.
“He hasn’t said anything,” another voice, unfamiliar. “His name. And then nothing. He’s still out of it.”
“Is it a coma?”
“No, they gave him pain medication as soon as it was safe for him. He was in shock before. He’s been examined.”
His mother sounded angry. “I want to know how soon I can get him on a flight.”
“To another hospital?”
“To Europe.”
Victor wanted to react to this, but he couldn’t move. His body was too heavy.
Sang.
Where was Sang? Suddenly, just for a moment, his brain was utilizing every ounce of energy to simply remembering what was going on.
The doctor laughed shortly. “Are you kidding me?”
“I’m serious. When will he be ready?”
“I can’t sign a waiver for him to be transported across an ocean.”
“I’d prefer it be done before he wakes up.”
Silence for a moment. “Are you seriously suggesting you’d risk his life… there’s no way any flight would allow an unconscious teenager to fly to another country. The country wouldn’t even accept him in his condition. No sensible airline—”
“I’d like another doctor.”
“Ma’am… you’re not going to get another answer.”
“Right. Now,” she said in her sternest voice.
More silence.
He needed to wake up.
Where was Sang?
Where did she go?
There was silence for so long, he was unsure if he’d even dreamed it all.
♥♥♥
He needed to wake up.
He was in the dark, and slowly, very slowly, he forced his body upright.
A song—notes—stuck in his brain, continued. It was so loud. It almost overpowered his thoughts.
The rousing crescendo. He used it as if to draw energy into himself, like listening to fast songs while working out.
Up.
Sit up.
Until he realized he was sitting up, and that’s as far as he’d gotten.
The hospital bed was cold.
He was in a room alone. It was dark.
He slid forward, an inch at a time, until his feet were on the floor, and for a moment, he thought he was standing.
Until he was crashing to the ground, falling on top of himself. An IV stand toppled on top of him, onto his back.
His face. He didn’t feel it at first, but his face was pain. Every little cell felt like it was ripping itself apart.
Somewhere else in his body, too. His body in general ached.
His face was the worst of it.
No time to stop. He had to leave.
But he couldn’t move. He crawled, belly on the floor, but only an inch.
Against the floor, he rested his cheek, only that hurt to do.
Too painful to even cry.
Would he die right here on the floor?
Sang. Did they take her, too? To Europe?
His mother?
Why was he alone again?
He would die here. Die right here.
Sang would be safe if he did.
Where was she?
His mother wouldn’t be embarrassed.
His jumbled thoughts were all sadness. Darkness. Like where he was on the floor. It felt like a lifetime on the cold floor, the pain, the feeling like he’d lost everything.
He did lose everything.
His mistakes. Grave mistakes.
There were footsteps and by that point, he didn’t care. He was in too much pain to fight it.
He was corrected, placed back into the bed before he realized there was a voice. A familiar one. Speaking to him.
“Come on, buddy,” he said. “Where’d you think you were going, anyway?”
Victor moaned, and while he was trying to ask a million things at once, it came out as mostly random noises.
The face leaned in. The familiar face.
DepthCrawler.
He knew him.
Victor sniffed. His body was warming. There wasn’t as much pain now. Did he give him some medicine? DepthCrawler wasn’t a doctor.
Somehow, amid Victor’s mumbling, he managed, “Sang…”
Silence for a moment. His face disappeared. In the dimness, he wasn’t sure if he’d left.
“She’s safe,” DepthCrawler said. “Don’t ask for her, though.” He leaned in again until his face was visible. “Promise me, you won’t speak her name for a little while. She’ll be okay.”
Victor had to keep Sang a secret. He knew this. He knew better. He thought he was nodding. Hopefully he was.
“I’m here to make sure they don’t send you off,” he said. “Don’t worry. We’re behind you.”
Victor wanted to cry now, not from pain, but from knowing.
The Academy.
They were always by his side.
He didn’t have to die.
♥♥♥
Time passed.
Shadows on shadows, but someone was in the room.
For a moment, Victor thought no one was there. It was just a dream.
Someone hovered close. A male.
“Victor…”
Mr. Buble.
A drum of anger, at himself, at Mr. Buble, surged through Victor.
“Get out,” Victor said to him.
Silence.
Did he leave?
“Why?” his voice came again.
The anger swelled. “You said I wouldn’t have to stay with my parents.” Suddenly his mother, what she said came into his mind.
He’d crashed a car.
He’d been high at the time.
The police questioned him.
His mother wanted to get him out of the country.
Out of the country before they could even have a chance to press charges.
To ruin the family.
Mr. Buble didn’t answer.
“They’re going to send me off. They’re going to send me… not me… I won’t exist.”
Still, no answer.
Was he even really there?
It was true though. He had no choice now. They could send Academy, but he’d be halfway across the world when his mother made arrangements.
Perhaps too far for them to follow.
They promised.
They all said.
Follow us. We’ll be there.
Yet there were some places they couldn’t follow.