//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: Living on a Prayer // by P-Berry //------------------------------// My head shot up, even before my eyes could open. Gasping for air, pressing my hand against my pounding heart, I looked around, instantly recognizing that very same room I had seen myself in mere seconds ago. My eyes widened in horror, and my look shot over to the bed behind me - that very same bed I had been in moments ago, doing the unspeakable to the girl I loved. Tormenting her, making her suffer, and worst of all: enjoying every second of it. The relief I felt in the second I saw the bed empty; neatly made and without a tied-up Roseluck in it could not be put in words. Shaking my head and trying to get these ... these thoughts out of it, I raised my heavily shaking left hand, and promptly sank back into the chair I was sitting on, feeling relief wash over me as I saw the small silver ring on my fourth finger. It had been a dream. Just a dream. Just a sick, disturbed, fucked-up dream. "Shit..." I muttered, letting my head drop into my hand, "Shit shit shit. What is wrong with you?" I asked myself. To be fair, I had had messed-up dreams before. Very messed up dreams. But this one ... this one upstaged them all. I looked at the bed, shivering as the after-images of my dream flashing past my mind's eye. She had betrayed me - I could remember this much. Had left me standing in front of the altar on the day of our wedding to run off with her best friend Lily, caused me to fall into a deep, devastating depression, leading me to lose my job, my car, our home ... everything I had. I had hit rock bottom, being broke, homeless, unemployed, and alone, with no perspective whatsoever. And then, one day, after having one too many slugs of cheap booze, I had come back for revenge - I had broken into her home, knocked her down, tied her up and... I shook my head, closing my eyes, and feeling sickness crawl up my throat. I hated myself. Not only that dream-me that had done all these things to the girl I loved, but myself for allowing these things to enter my mind in the first place. I loved Roseluck; loved her more than anything else in this world. And even if things had turned out differently, I would have never ... I could have never...! I swallowed, trying to clear my head. I needed to see her! I needed to see her with my own eyes to ensure myself that this had all just been a bad dream; that she was alright, and that ... my look fell back to the ring on my finger; that very same ring I had worn ever since this fateful evening on our hotel's balcony ... that she was still ready and willing to take this step with me. As my head finally started to clear, and my mind brought up the pressing question of where I was, my look shot around the room. I was sitting in our bedroom at home, sat on a chair in front of a desk, right opposite to our bed. The door was closed and the shutters were down. "Rose?" I asked into the semi-darkness of the room, and gave a startled gasp as I felt something vibrating in my pants. Hastily pulling out my cellphone and unlocking it, I saw that I had eight missed calls and five text messages from my bride-to-be. Wondering what might have caused her to want to reach me this urgently, I opened my phone's message center, and my look fell onto my body for the first time in the process. "Shit." My phone slipped out of my hand and fell to the floor with an ominous cracking-sound. I was dressed in black suit pants and a white button-up shirt, with a loose red tie around my neck. Single stains of saliva -amid other things that looked like they had once been in my stomach- were visible on my shirt and pants, and the black coat that would complete my suit was laying on the ground in front of me, crumpled-up like worn underwear. Today was my wedding day. And I was still at home. And I had no idea what time it was or where my bride was or what I was supposed to do next. My eyes went to the floor where my phone was laying in its individual parts - display, battery, mainboard, and everything else. And I had just broken my phone, and had no means of making calls or generally getting in contact with my fiancée who, apparently, was dead-set on talking to me. "Shit." I felt a sudden pain shooting through me, noticing only now the head-bursting headache that had, ever since I woke up, been nothing but a dull ache in the back of my mind, but had now grown into a serious pain. This, along with the smell of dried sweat and alcohol surrounding me, and the fact that I couldn't remember a single thing from what had happened to cause me to fall asleep sitting on my chair, indicated that my bachelor party last night must have indeed been a full success. That is, if success meant hangovers, loss of memory and traumatizing nightmares. I gave an exasperated sigh, letting my head sink onto the desk in front of me. However, before I could wallow in self-pity and longer, I heard a knocking on my door, and a familiar voice coming from the other side. "Hey man, you in there?" The voice of my best friend caused me to startle before replying with a gasped, "Y-yeah. Yeah, sure." I tried to get up, but my legs gave out beneath me. My vision swam, I fell over, found purchase on the desk, then finally managed to get to my shaky feet and walked over to the door. I opened it, reeled, and almost fell over again, being saved only by him placing two hands on both my shoulders and catching me. "Whoa there." the blue-green buck said with a chuckle, helping me regain my balance, "You're not looking too good." "Where is she?" I slurred, slowly lifting my head, still feeling lightheaded and nauseous, "I ... I need to talk to her." "Who?" He asked me, raising an eyebrow. "Rose! Roseluck!" I shouted back, my eyes widening in despair, "Where is she!?" "Hey, calm down." he said indignantly, looking me in the eyes, "She's at the hairdresser with her friend Daisy, getting ready for the ceremony." "I ... I need to talk to her! Right now!" "What's wrong, man?" He asked me, giving me a genuinely concerned look, "I mean, you look like shit, but that's understandable. But why the sudden panic?" Giving me a -in my opinion truly inappropriate- grin, he asked, "Getting cold feet, huh?" Rubbing my tired, aching eyes, too exhausted to act on his teasing, I shook my head and muttered, "N-no. I just ... I had this really fucked-up dream and ... I just need to know she's okay. That's all." He mustered me for a moment, but seemed to believe me and gave me a curt nod. "Alright." he said, "But you can do so on the way. We're running a little short on time, and you dozing off here after being supposed to meet me an hour ago didn't really help our schedule." "Ugh." I muttered, rubbing a hand against my aching head. "I'm sorry, I just ... I think I might have overdone it a little bit last night." "Heh, you can say that again." He said with a chuckle, "I'll delete that video of you dancing on the table with that stripper later, promise." Before I could protest or even process what he had just said, he swiftly continued, "Now come on." he said, shoving me back into my bedroom and pushing me onto the bed where I fell onto my back and was just about to drift back to sleep again. "Hey, don't you pass out on me!" he said with wide eyes, pulling me back into a sitting position at the corner of the bed. His eyes fell onto my coat laying at his feet. "Oh come on!" He said, giving me a reproachful look, "You wanna marry your girl in that thing?" he picked it up, dusting it off and examining the various stains on it; a disbelieving sigh followed shortly after. "Are you serious?" he asked me reproachfully, showing me the big tear that went from the jacket's bottom all the way up to the collar. "Damn..." he muttered, walking off into the small bathroom adjactent to our bedroom. "See if I can do something about that." I leaned forward, feeling my eyes drift shut. Despite everything, I could feel a smile creep onto my face. That was Autum Leaf. My best friend ever since my childhood, and -given the recent events- my best man. And my self-appointed babysitter for today, seeing how getting dressed, getting to the church, and above all walking down the aisle and ever looking Roseluck in the eyes again after this nightmare seemed like a physical impossibility, given my current physical and mental condition. Maybe, I thought, just maybe, I should have taken it a little slower last night. Or just stayed home. Or just not scheduled my bachelor party to be in the night before my wedding. Damn my friends and their tight schedules. "Phew." Autum Leaf said, coming walking the bathroom and carrying a small spray can in his hand. "Here." he said, tossing me the deodorant, "Hop in the shower, then take some of that. You'll be back on your feet again in no time." Being incredibly hungover and still half-asleep, it was little surprising that I completely failed catching the can, and it hit me right into my face. "Shit." I cussed, leaning forward to pick up the fallen can and holding my other, free hand against the spot where it had hit me. "Ah crap." I could hear Autumn sigh as I got back up again; the pain in my cheekbone didn't seem to vanish. "What?" I asked, but silenced as I saw my hand. I was bleeding. "Damnit." I looked up at him with a half-angry face, "Are you for real? It's my wetting day and you're launching spray cans at me!?" "Sorry bro..." He said with an apologetic smile and walked back into the bathroom, "I'll go get you some band-aid." "Screw you..." I muttered in a half-serious tone, pressing my hand against the bleeding spot on my cheek. If this was supposed to be my wedding day, the happiest day of my whole life, then there sure was some more room for improvement.