Take Me Away From Here

By tmcgrawfhill

14.1K 421 43

It's been three years... Three years since what seemed like a fairytale came shattering down around them. Tim... More

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20 {One Year Later}
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41 {Three Years Later}
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46 (Final Chapter)
Note from Author

Chapter 31

232 6 0
By tmcgrawfhill

Tim POV {Present}: 

Three Months Later 

I walk through the halls with my third cup of coffee today, yawning as I stand outside her room. Mom and Kim sit inside, talking to one another about something that seems pretty intense. I wait outside for a moment, deciding to gauge whether I should barge in or not. 

"I saw him down in the chapel this morning... Kim, my son doesn't pray. The only time that boy has prayed was the night his step-father got so furious and harmful that we had to call the police to take him away." She says, making my stomach drop. "My son has no faith in a higher power, and only turns to one when he's completely lost of options and direction... when he's scared as hell." Mom explains, while Kim stares at the hospital bed. "I'm terrified that this is going to kill him." Mom lets out, making Kim nod. Kim shuts her eyes, before leaning back in her chair and looking up at the ceiling.

"I don't know why it seems like he just can't win..." Kim says, making Mom laugh while shaking her head. 

"He doesn't deserve this. Sure, he's screwed up enough for a lifetime, but he's already paid the price." Mom says, leaning her elbow against the arm of her chair, resting the side of her head on her hand. "Faith means the world to him... I just... I can't imagine him burying her. I can't... That's just something that I can't seem to wrap my mind around." Mom admits, seeming shaken. I take a step back away from the door, shutting my eyes to try and push the words out of my mind before they sink in.

I turn around, walking down the hall to the stairwell, before running down seven flights of stairs. I walk out to my car, get in, and drive anywhere that isn't here. I let myself autopilot, finding that I'm pulling into the studio parking lot. I turn off the car, staring at the brick building for a couple moments. There are no other cars in the parking lot, meaning it's empty, and all the studios are open. I think on it for a moment, before getting out of the car and walking inside. The door chimes, almost an identical replication of the sound that changed my life years ago. 

I get a flash in front of my eyes, seeing a musty, unair-conditioned record store instead of the studio. I blink twice, seeing her standing before a stack of records, flipping through them tirelessly with her delicate fingers, smiling at every title. 

"Faith?" I call out, causing her head to turn my way, her smile growing. 

"Oh my god, Tim?" I hear her voice sing, hitting me like a warm beam of sunlight. She runs over toward me. The closer she comes toward me, the more faint the picture, leaving me back in a dark, empty studio before she can reach me. 

My heart pounds, before I shut my eyes, having to tell myself once again that it's not real... These memories that appear so clear in front of me, just aren't real. She's in a hospital bed, fighting for her life right now... She's not in some record store, or sitting in the passenger seat, or sleeping in bed beside me. It just feels that way... 

I walk into the recording booth, slamming down in the office chair in front of the mixing board. A notepad and pen sit leaning against the window to the vocal room, daring me to pick it up. I cave in, setting it in my lap, and clicking the pen a couple times. I set the tip of the pen to the page, letting my mind flow right through my hand. 


Verse 1: Let's just cut it down the middle. Let it bleed and bleed out... I'll clean up the mess, baby. You stand there and shout... Cry, cry... Baby, I can't hold us together

Verse 2: Paint me in a corner. Cover me with rage... I'll take it like a circus lion - Silent in my cage. Cry, cry... Baby, I can't change the weather...

Chorus: Baby, I'll let go when you say so... Try to let your heart fly free. I'll crawl out of my cradle, down in to my black hole... and you just lay low... under your halo...

Verse 3: I'll slip into the back room. Fall onto your cast... Almost out of focus, like a faded photograph... Cry, cry... baby, I'm all out of answers

Chorus (x2): Baby, I'll let go when you say so... Try to let your heart fly free. I'll crawl out of my cradle, down in to my black hole... and you just lay low... under your halo...

I stare down at the page, before looking at the microphone in the vocal booth. I yawn, feeling exhaustion sink in again, the coffee only helping so much. I hit record on the mixing board, before walking into the booth and grabbing a guitar, setting up the lyrics on a music stand. 

"Let's just cut it down the middle. Let it bleed and bleed out..." I sing. 

I finish the song, feeling drained afterward. I shut my eyes, for some reason hearing echoes of her voice in my head like the ringing of guitar strings. I set down the guitar, and walk back into the mixing room, hitting play on the recording. I move around some of the levels, until it sounds like a studio-quality demo. I export the track, and find myself hovering over a bin of records put in each of the studios for "inspiration". I pull out one at random, feeling my stomach drop at I notice it's the Elvis at Sun record...  I take it out, placing it down on a small turntable in the room. 

"I'm Left, You're Right, She's gone..." Elvis croons, as a bottle of whiskey catches my eye. My hand begins to reach for it, before I pull my hand back. I shut my eyes again, trying to hold some self-control. I feel glass under my fingertips, opening my eyes to see my hands prying open the bottle. I pour myself a glass, before staggering back to the couch, and sitting down with my head in my hands. My arms tremble as I try to breathe. I feel whiskey burn down my throat, my body seeming to chug it down like it's water to someone trapped in the Sahara. I set down the now empty glass, staring at it, before standing up and getting more. I take a sip while walking back to the couch, feeling the buzz kick in. 

"I fucking hate you..." I hear her voice scream suddenly, making me jump. She stands in sweatpants and a zip-up sweatshirt, looking like she did the night she found me passed at our home studio... her wedding night. I stare at her, noticing his ring on her finger. 

"Love you, Cowboy." I hear a younger version of her say. I turn my head to see her standing beside the other version, wearing jeans and a black turtleneck, a thick bubble jacket on her. That's how she looked the day of the accident. I could pick that version of her out of a lineup the easiest... seeing her was the only thing that pulled me through. 

"I'm so scared..." She cries out, wearing an oversized cardigan. This version is from the day she miscarried with Michael's baby... I stand up, wanting to help ease her pain. "He doesn't love me like you do... nobody loves me like you do..." She weeps, before I feel something tug on my arm. I turn around to see the woman from 2003 standing behind me, a swollen eye, tears clouding her emerald eyes. 

"Get a hold of myself?" She shrieks. "You're being so fucking selfish, and you have the audacity to make me out like I'm crazy?" She continues to scream, before pushing me back. 

Multiple versions of her fill the room, each representing a memory. They talk over each other, the memories fill in quickly, but one holds my attention at a time. 

"I wish I never lost you..." She lets out, leaning over the couch toward me like she did the morning after she lost Michael's baby. 

"It doesn't matter what you do, losing you is still going to hurt like hell." Another side of her says, standing in front of the door, this version from the night I attempted suicide. 

"I'm not going to watch you slip away again. I just can't..." She says, this being the version from the night I wrecked with Gracie in the car. "I just... I can't believe how fucking stupid... I mean... What the hell were you thinking?"

"I can't breathe..." She cries out, lying on the ground while placing a hand on her stomach. I stare, feeling my heart break at just seeing her the same way. Her white dress is spotted with blood, as she gasps for air. "Tim?" She calls, looking right at me. "The baby..." She sobs, breaking my heart once more. I shut my eyes tightly, praying it'll all vanish when I open them. 

I feel my blood run cold as every version of her falls silent, except for one, that sits painfully still on the couch, her legs pinched together tightly, while a man in his forties runs his hands along her thighs. She lets out small whimpers, before his hands fall between her legs, making her cries grow louder. She's no older than ten here.

"Dad, stop..." She cries, before he grabs her chin, turning her head toward him. 

"You're going to listen to your goddamn father, Audrey Faith." He growls at her, making her cry harder. She looks down at the ground, before shutting her eyes tightly, squeezing tears out. The sounds of her crying are like nails on a chalkboard to me... but heart-wrenching at the same time. I cringe at the similar sound to our daughters crying, so thankful that our girls never faced fathers like ours. 

"Dad... please." She weeps, tears hanging onto her eyelashes as they drip down her neck. She turns her head toward him, before a loud smack rings out, making me jump. She falls painfully silent, her lips moving ever so slightly. 

"One... two... three..." I hear her utter softly, almost too quiet to hear. She told me that she used to count when she was scared, because it'd avert her attention to something else for a moment. 

All the versions of her suddenly speak up, the room unbearably loud. I put my back against a wall, feeling every version swarm me at once. They shout over each other, coming toward me until there's barely any room. I shut my eyes and put my hands over my ears, sliding down against the wall. 

"...fucking drunk... I love you... Baby?... I miss you... I hate you... Stay with me... Who the fuck do you think you are?..." They spit over one another, no matter how hard I try to tune it out. 

They all go completely quiet on a whim, but I refuse to open my eyes. I tell myself to breathe, my entire body trembling. I feel something touch my arm, forcing me to open my eyes. She's kneeling down in front of me, leaning forward to press our foreheads together, her hand resting on the back of my head. 

"It's okay... you're going to be okay..." She reassures me, although I'm unsure which version of her this is from. She doesn't look outrageously young, nor does she look like she does today. "You're stronger than this." She lets out, as I fall apart. I howl, rocking myself back and forth, before she wraps her arms around me, holding me tightly. "I love you..." She says, her voice sounding smooth and warm. 

"I love you... I love you, baby..." I repeat back, a complete wreck. She wipes my tears, before sparing me a slight smile. She nods, leaning forward like she's going to kiss me. I shut my eyes, opening them a moment later to see she's gone...   

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