What's So Good About Picking Up the Pieces? (Vic Fuentes FanFiction)

Where's Your Passion, Where's Your Fire Tonight?

Lyla's P.O.V:

I woke up sweating. I had that dream again......the same one I've been having since that night. This time it was different though.

Derrik was still chasing me through the forest, calling after me, his voice loud and booming. I was running as fast as my little legs would take me, but it was never fast enough; I could always hear his footsteps pounding just a short distance behind me. This time as I skidded to a stop at the edge of the cliff and turned around it wasn't Derrik that I had been running from; it was Vic. He was crying, pleading with me to stop, to stop running from him. He told me to stop forcing him away. I tried to open my mouth to speak but words would not come out. I started to cry and Vic walked towards me. He kissed my head softly before he flung himself off of the cliff; my chest hurt as my heart broke and I let out a blood-curdling scream. I moved to jump off the cliff after him, but at the last minute a strong pair of arms grabbed me and pulled me from the edge; this time it was Derrik.

I sat up and rubbed at my face, trying to calm myself down. My heart was pounding in my chest so loud I was sure it would wake the neighbors. I glanced over to see Vic still sleeping soundly next to me, his chest rising and falling subtly with each breath he took. I slid out of bed slowly and crept out of the bedroom, pulling the door shut softly behind me. I padded across the living room, my arms wrapped around myself as a chill crept over my body, and made my way into the kitchen. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and sipped from it as I leaned my head back against the wall, letting my eyes fall closed as I tried to quiet the screaming in my head.

I had been doing fairly well getting used to the drug withdrawls, but I sincerely hoped it would soon come to an end; most of the time I was able to keep the urge down to just a quiet whisper in my mind, but there were a few times over the past few days since Vic had been here, especially when I was feeling stressed or overwhelmed, that I wasn't able to quiet the craving.

I wasn't going to break, though. I was determined to fight it no matter how hard it would be.

I walked into the living room and flipped on the small lamp, the light flooding the room, shadows playing on the walls. The sight of Vic's guitar case caught my eye and I walked to it, bending down and prying it open carefully. I smiled down at the beautiful acoustic guitar and softly ran my fingers over the strings, over the shiny wood. I took a seat on the ground, crossing my legs, and pulled it out of the case, resting it in my lap. I quietly strummed a few cords, my brain racing as I tried to remember what little I knew. After several minutes I began to play a song, the only song I knew, the song that Vic had taught me all those years ago.

I smiled to myself as the short song ended, and I gently sat the guitar back in its case. I stood up and turned around. I jumped a little when I noticed Vic leaning against the door frame smiling at me.

"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you," he whispered. I gave him a small smile in return.

"I'm sorry I woke you," I mumbled, shrugging my shoulders.

"You didn't. I woke up and noticed you were gone so I just came out to check on you and I decided to leave you be for a while," he smiled a little bigger and I felt my cheeks blush a little.

"I shouldn't have touched your guitar without asking, I'm sorry. I just-" I paused as he walked over towards me.

"You don't have to ask, Lyla. I'm glad you did. I can't believe you still remember that song," he said as he pulled me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around him and rested my head on his bare chest.

"I could never forget it," I whispered and he kissed the top of my head.

"You alright?" He asked; his voice was quiet, but full of concern. I just nodded my head in response, squeezing him a little tighter. "Lyla," he whispered, knowing all too well that I wasn't being truthful. He pulled away from me a little, still keeping one arm around my waist, and he led me to the couch. He laid down and opened his arms motioning for me to join him. I shot him a small, weak smile and obliged, laying down in his arms and burying my face in his warm skin. He reached up and pulled the blanket off of the back of the couch and covered us with it before his arms returned to their previous postion wrapped tightly around me, pulling me into him.