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Disclaimer: I don't own the song "Hey You" by Pink Floyd.
Distribution: Put it wherever you want. Just send me an email.
Note: I know it has taken me forever to write the sequal to "Empty Spaces," but when Winter Break started I finally had the time to write. Also I'm using another song by the same artist. I've never heard it but at least the lyrics fit. Ok, well. Happy New Year!
Hey you, out there on your own
Sitting naked by the phone, would you touch me?
Hey you, with your ear against the wall
Waiting for someone to call out, would you touch me?
Hey you, would you help me to carry the stone?
Open your heart, I'm coming home
"Hey You"- Pink Floyd
Pacey groaned and touched his aching head. A tacky substance came off onto his fingers as a stabbing pain went through his head. Where the am I? he thought.
He slowly opened his eyes, finding himself sprawled across the floor of his room. Why the hell am I on the floor? Then the final images of his fathers sweaty face came to mind. Pacey looked at his fingers and found blood smeared on them. Panic quickly filled him. How was he going to hide this? Doug and his father usually opted for hitting him in the stomach, where of course no marks would be made. Or elsewhere on his body but not on his face. Bruises would be incriminating evidence. It would look bad if it was found that Chief of Police Witter physically abused his son.
He thought back to yesterday and groaned again. His birthday had always been terrible day, a day his family took great measures to show what a waste he was. But yesterday was the most memorable. First his mom, the only person in his family who ever had cared about him, had forgotten and had gotten so completely wasted she couldn't even get out of bed. He felt so powerless because he didn't know how to help her. It's not like he could send her to Alcoholics Anonymous because his father would give him the worst beating of his life. He didn't know what to do. Then he remembered how Dawson, his supposed "best friend," had forgotten his birthday. What friend would do that? Then like the inconsiderate person Dawson could be at times, he had gotten mad at Pacey. Pacey remembered how he had vented at Dawson. He felt sorry that he had yelled but then he thought back to how Dawson had confronted him at his party. He had spent two seconds on his obviously false apology to Pacey then had held a "bashing Pacey" party. The over-analytical Dawson, the one who spent hours thinking things over, had not even spent the time to think that something other than forgetting Pacey's birthday was wrong. Come on, even an idiot could see something was up. But Dawson who was so wrapped up in his love life had not even noticed. His best friend? Yeah right. And Andie. She hadn't even bothered to come to his party. Looks like she was not going to be a new potential love interest. Great. Pacey knew his social life wasn't the best but since when had he dropped off the end of the earth? He always expected the worst from his family but not his friends. That reminded him. Who the hell did Doug think he was? Besides being a policeman of Capeside he had long ago adopted the role of policeman of the Witter family. Pacey was used to the occasional beatings but why on his damn birthday? Then Doug of course, like the wimp he was, had "told on Pacey" to his father. And his father of course had given him the grandest birthday present of them all. As always Pacey had fallen for his father's poor excuse of goading him, but this time it was Pacey who had thrown the first punch. And he had paid for it, of course. His totalitarian father would never let his son, Pacey the loser, punch him without severe punishment. Pacey had what felt like a broken head along with his already shattered ego.
Pacey staggered to his feet as the pain sent streaks of brilliant white across his vision. Slowly he walked to the bathroom, closed the door, and locked it. A familiar sight greeted him in the mirror, his beaten face. A dark stream of blood had streamed down the left side of his face, surrounding it was a brilliant purple bruise. Oh great. This would take him forever to cover up. Pacey leaned forward and gingerly touched his hair which was standing up in stiff spikes. Presumably from the blood. His father had done quite a job on him.
Taking a washcloth from a drawer he turned on the water and held the washcloth under it for a minute. Then he washed the blood from his face. Again he held the washcloth under the water and watched the faintly red water go down the drain. Tentatively he tried to clean his scalp and in five minutes was done. Thank god. Pacey was relieved when he saw that he would be able to cover up his wound.
His head throbbed as he took out all the necessary things. A box of makeup in a box discreetly labeled as "Tissue," and a well worn issue of Cosmopolitan. Pacey thought back to his long ago conversation with Dawson on Cosmo. He had said, in an almost joking way, "Cosmo is my savior." He had given so many bullshit reasons for reading it but he had only read it to learn to cover the pretty bruises his father gave him. So far all his friends had been fooled. If they were such good friends they would have noticed he thought glumly. Pacey wanted his torn life to go away but when he thought of taking that first, crucial step he felt paralyzed. Somebody would have to take that out of his hands. God, his head hurt.
Pacey took twenty minutes in covering the bruise, when he was done it was little more than a faint shadow. Then he put everything away again then leaned against the door. He bet that Dawson would apologize to him and be his best friend. For about, lets say, two seconds. Then Joey would be there and either would want to "talk to Dawson" or be bitchy, making him feel more like a loser. Then of course he would come back with a sarcastic comment that would set her off and they would argue. A typical day in Pacey Witter's life.
Pacey slowly walked to Video. He would have to work alongside a probably apologetic Dawson. Oh god! He wasn't in the mood. Suddenly someone grabbed him by the shoulder as pain seared through his head causing him to stumble.
"Hey Pacey," Dawson said with a tentative smile.
"Dawson," Pacey said through clenched teeth, his eyes unable to focus because of the pain.
Dawson stared at him strangely, "Are you ok? You look kind of out of it."
Pacey gave a short laugh, "Me? Yeah, I'm ok. Couldn't feel better. Just had a little too much at my party."
"Yeah. I heard about the police breaking it up...Look Pacey, I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for my selfish behavior and that..."
"Hi Dawson," Dawson was cut off by Joey who stood there in a red tank top and jeans. She glanced at Pacey and offered him a fake smile. "Hey Pacey. We look a little out of it today, don't we?" she said in a sarcastic tone of voice. Then abruptly, without waiting for his comeback she took Dawson's hand, "We need to talk."
Pacey watched as Dawson left with Joey without even a goodbye. He muttered, "Well, Dawson. I guess you weren't that sorry."
Pacey sat on a chair with his feet propped on the counter. He was bored out of his mind. Apparently nobody wanted to rent movies today. Oh well. The advil had finally kicked in so he had spent the last three hours virtually pain free.
His mind wandered to his earlier conversation with Dawson. He knew something like that would happen. Everyone was so predictable. One minute Dawson was telling him how sorry he was, the next he was leaving with Joey. Typical. It was as if Pacey had become invisible once Joey was there. As the day's passed it seemed as if his existence in the eyes of other people, mainly his friends, seemed to fade. Well, it wasn't like he needed them. They didn't seem to give a damn to what happened to him. As the waves of despair and anger went through him he made a vow to himself I'm not going to pretend anymore. I'm not going to console Dawson during whatever new "crisis" he's going through or retain any sense of normality in my friendship with Joey. Not until they begin to treat me like a friend. Otherwise, screw them.
The bell rang as somebody burst in through the door. Startled, Pacey snapped out o his reverie. Andie. His low spirits suddenly rose then came crashing down as he remembered her revenge. Andie quickly walked up to the counter and with a sardonic smile said, "Hi Pacey. How's the heart stripe."
He quickly stood up. "Do you need help?" Pacey asked politely.
"Pacey. Hello. It's me, Andie," she stared at him.
Pacey repeated, "Do you need help?" in the same maddeningly polite voice, devoid of emotion. Then as an afterthought, "Andie."
"Oh. I know. You're being childish and pretending not to know me," she continued on, "Get over it already. It was revenge on my part for what you did..." she broke off suddenly and said in a strange voice, "Pacey what's wrong with your head?"
Shit! Pacey's stomach took a sickening leap. What had he done wrong? He had gone through uncountable days of hiding his newest bruises and nobody had ever noticed. He had been careless. What the hell was he going to say?
Andie watched as Pacey froze, his face draining of all color. His eyes which seemed so indifferent before were now far away, as if he wasn't there. Confusion and uncertainty were imminent on his face. Then as quickly as he had gone into that strange trance he snapped out of it.
His face became composed and his eyes blank as he replied in a deadpan voice, "Nothing." The word hung in the air as her brow furrowed.
"But you're bleeding," Andie said in a petulant voice.
Pacey slowly brought his hand to his head. When he took it away he saws fresh traces of blood on his fingertips. Then he forced himself to give a quick, mirthless laugh. "Oh! Uh, yesterday I fell and hit my head. You heard about my party. Right. And um..." Pacey began to babble as his mind raced. Then he saw Dawson walking toward and mumbled, "Bye" to Andie as he quickly escaped out the door.
Pacey dejectedly walked down the street. He had nowhere to go. Obviously home was out of the question. He kicked a can and sent it skittering across the sidewalk.
"Pacey!" a distant shout carried across the street, "Pacey!" He turned and saw Dawson jogging towards him. When Dawson reached Pacey he stopped and stood gasping for air.
"Yes, Dawson?" Pacey asked once Dawson had regained his breath.
"What's up? Andie told me something was wrong," Dawson said.
For the first time Pacey wondered if he should tell the truth. He could get help and everything would be off his back. His father. Doug. His sisters. His mother could get help. He knew Dawson would listen to him because the matter was so serious. With a few words he could fix everything. "Dawson, yeah. Well, you know, my father he..." Then he stopped and said, "No. Nothings wrong, Dawson," in an exasperated voice. "Andie's just being paranoid."
Dawson wouldn't give up, "What happened?"
Pacey got fed up. If Dawson wanted a damn story he would get one. "Ok. Threw a party. Got wasted. Fell and hit my head. Since when has it been a crime to have a hangover?"
Dawson's eyes cleared up. He bought Pacey's lie like he had so many times before. "It's just that Andie seemed so concerned. Well, I have to go. See you later, Pacey." He left.
Pacey hit his forehead in exasperation, causing a new headache. He had been on the brink of telling Dawson. He just couldn't. It was the same old thing. That learned defense mechanism that he couldn't overcome. He could have broken free of his life. But no. He might as well give up.
Hey you, out there on the road
Always doing what you're told, can you help me?
Hey you, out there beyond the wall
Breaking bottles in the hall, can you help me?
Hey you, don't tell me there's no hope at all
Together we stand, divided we fall
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