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Teardrop In The Fire	By : MysticNight Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Incubus Views: 3776 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Incubus. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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*

Claire looked back in confusion, almost fearing that she was hallucinating from the sight of Marissa before her.

Putting her hand on her forehead in marvel, Claire reached over turning on the lamp.

“Marissa?” She had to verify, “Aren’t you suppose to be on your flight?”

“Good observation. You always were a smart one.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” she coughed, trying to clear her aching throat.

“Oh, just to borrow that lip gloss you were wearing at dinner--WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I CAME HERE FOR?”

“Get that thing out of my face” she became irritable, ignoring her tone.

“You aren't in any position to be telling me what I should or should not do.”

Although Claire was nervous, she tried her best not to make it show.

Throwing the sheets to one side, she untangled her legs from the thick blue blanket and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her bare feet recoiled to the carpet before Marissa yelled.

“I told you not to move.”

“And I’m telling you to get out of here. I’m calling Brandon.” she shook her head standing to her feet now searching her phone.

"You take me for fucking joke" She came to the conclusion, making her way around he bed to stand directly in front of Claire.

Her eyes were dark with a brooding intensity that Claire had never seen, one she imagined would take any normal individual over the edge.

“If you so much as blink, I will put this fucking bullet through your head so fast you’re head'll spin.” She threatened, cocking the bullet.

Hearing that small click, had Claire all ears.

She felt backed up against the wall, and practically was as she staggered back and nearly fell.

“Do you think I didn’t know you were sleeping with my boyfriend?”

“Ex-”

“Don’t even go there with me.” she sharply warned. "You took me for a fool didn’t you?”

Claire rolled her eyes, ignoring the question.

“Be careful with that thing” Claire asked, watching her play with it in her hand.

“No need, this will eventually be the commodity that ends you life.”

*

Brandon suddenly heard something come to life. His eyes wearily glanced toward the clock, flashing 3:28am.

Still consumed with sleep, Brandon could distinctly hear voices in the distance. He hit the snooze button in return, assuming it was the radio that served as an alarm and threw a pillow over his head.

But somehow the sounds still ensued.

“What the fuckk…” he whined, dragging the pillow from his head and examined the clock to soon realize, what he was hearing was in fact not coming from it.

Brandon rubbed his eyes to concentrate better, remembering he was on the phone with Claire before falling asleep.

His hands searched under the pillows, and the surrounding area for his cell phone.

With no justice, he paused.

He could now hear Claire’s voice clearly.

Looking off the edge of the bed, he spotted the phone on the ground still open.

The least thing she sounded was fast asleep. If anything she sounded distracted, as if there were someone else in the background.

“Claire. Claire?” he summoned into the receiver, but there was no answer.

Instead she continued to talk to whoever was with her.

Back in her suite Claire heard a diminutive voice coming from her phone.

She wished he would have kept quiet and figured out what was going on, but instead he continued to call her name.

“Claire? Claire you there?”

She tried to talk over the voice to distract Marissa, but she too soon caught onto the voice.

“What the fuck is that?”

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” she asked loudly.

“Shut up!” Marissa barked trying to locate where it was coming from.

“Hello? Claire, what the fuck is going on?” Brandon asked hoping she would answer, and finally Marissa found the source of the ongoing sound.

She bent down picking it up with a small smile. “You two fell asleep on the phone together?” she asked softly “How cute is that?”

“Brandon!” she called out, before Marissa snapped it shut and pointed the gun back in her direction.

*

Now sitting up in his bed, he looked at his phone seeing that the call was disconnected.

There was urgency in her voice and it worried him. The other voice, he couldn’t quite make out, but what he was thinking didn’t seem to quite make sense.

Not about to take the chance, he made no hesitation in rushing out of his room and pressing the button for the elevator.

*

“He’ll thank me for this one day.” Marissa whispered to herself.

Claire watched her walk over to the stereo system, turning it on.

System of a down’s Lonely day , resonated through the speakers as she increased the volume.

Claire figured she did it so that no one could hear them or the gun if she decided to pull the trigger.

Pull the trigger…her thoughts echoed in her head and made her realize that she needed to make a move.

Moving slowly, Claire attempted to turn off the lamp--their source of light, and possibly hit her with it in the process.

Not giving her the chance to grab anything she could use, Marissa grabbed her by her hair and jerked her backward putting the gun against her face.

Claire gasped, “Don’t do it...”

“Why shouldn’t I?” She shoved her against the wall. “You couldn’t leave us alone. I promised I’d let Michael handle you... but he’ll just have to understand.” She rambled some more to herself.

“What does Michael have to do with this?”

Marissa merely stared at Claire as though she were the most oblivious person on the face of the planet, shaking her head with a treacherous smile.

That smile was all Claire needed, to realize that there was something more going on to the situation.

“Just let me go” Claire asked, “We can forget about this and never have to face each other again.”

“And make it that easy on you? Huh? Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?! You are such a whoring thief! Just to let you know, Brandon told me a while back that if he wanted you, he could have had you a long time ago, that’s why he knew him and I were meant to be together. He feels sorry for you! That’s all it is! You and I both know Brandon’s biggest issue is him caring way too much. He only wanted to save you from yourself, and that’s only because you always have one male or another beating the shit out of you-” She quickly punched Claire in the gut.

Claire took it with stride, but in return bitterly chuckled
“...You pathetic bitch. There is nothing you can tell me about Brandon that I don’t already know; and you are more deluded than I thought if you believe that he ever loved you. Remorseful, yes. but never to the point of love and I know that first hand. You were nothing more than a fucking appetizer."

Claire’s words were like venom being spat in her face.

“Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!”

Marissa had enough now grasping Claire’s throat, forcing her callously against wall. Both of her hands were wrapped tightly around Claire’s neck and she began to push into her windpipe using both thumbs.

“Stop!-I Can’t-”

Her screams were cut off, replaced with the sound of her gasping for air.

Eventually her struggles ceased slowly, and her body went limp.

Her head fell forward, and Marissa allowed her to hit the ground.

She kicked her once to see if she would move, but lifelessly Claire remained beneath her.

“I’m not done with you yet.” she mumbled.

She was there to bring pain, suffering, hurt, and chaos.

Within Marrisa’s constant muttering to herself. Claire inhaled the deepest breath she had ever taken. She placed her hand in the middle of her chest, feeling it rise and fall gratefully with each heavy breath as she decrepitly watched Marissa walking away.

Feeling physically sick and too light-headed to move, Claire realized that if she didn’t stop Marissa now, she certainly would not stand a chance when Marissa walked back to finish the job. So hurriedly, and faster than she thought humanly possible Claire moved on all fours, latching onto Marissa’s ankle.

A small shriek escaped her throat as she fell over. The silver lining of her gun that glimmering under the moonlight was presently a few feet away from her, prompting Claire to lunge for it.

“Not on my clock” Marissa grabbed her waist pulling her as far back as she could, but in retaliation Claire used her elbow to punch her in the face.

“Get off me!” For a second Claire felt her hand touch the weapon before Marissa’s overlapped hers, her acrylic nails digging into the top of Claire’s hand.

They scuffled for a few minutes, one hitting the other and the other striking back with more force.

In all truthfulness, Claire had to admit that Marissa was putting up a very good fight, showing strength she never knew existed.

At some point or another Claire ended up on her back, with Marissa sitting comfortably on her waist, with the artillery tightly in her grasp holding it as though it became one with her body.

“No more games.” She sneered, and at this time Claire actually found herself terrified.

“NO” she refused to give up, turning sideways and darting from beneath her.

She heard the gun go off with Marissa blaring behind her to “Turn around!”

At hearing the stray bullet, Claire stopped dead in her tracks.

“I said TURN AROUND!” She was turning more and more fervent by the second.

Claire did as told, pleading “You don’t have to do this. Shooting me will only make things worse! How can you possibly be with Brandon behind bars?!”

“Is that what you think I came here to do?” she asked fiercely “To shoot you?”

Claire didn’t answer.

“Honey, I came here to kill you. And the only thing that matters to me is getting that job done. Me and Brandon will figure out things after you’re out of the picture”

“You can’t force him to love you!” she screamed, trying to reason with her.

“For someone about to die you sure don’t know when to shut the fuck up.” She casually walked over to Claire, her blue eyes completely glazed over. So close, that Claire could feel her breath tracing her face.

Feeling overwhelmed, Claire watched as Marissa’s hand skimmed the side of her face.

It was when she moved her finger tips in Claire’s view, Claire could feel the scarlet blood that ran in rivulets down the side of her face.

“Beautiful.” Marissa commented, fusing Claire’s blood onto both fingers in amusement.

“Close your eyes.” she calmly told her.

Gulping down tears, Claire came up with a weak “No.”

“Aw, 'Cee' you’re crying.” she wiped the stray tear away, then back handed her. “Snap out of it. Do you really want to use your last moments acting like a little bitch? Where‘s your humour? Where‘s that confidence? Where is all the fucking lip I‘ve become so accustomed to?”

Her lips trembled, her face burning red from Marissa‘s hand that imprinted itself on her cheek. Claire was filled with both hatred and disparity.

This really was it.

“Brandon will hate you if you kill me.”

“Well that’s just a risk I’m going to have to take”

“You can still stop this. Just put it down.”

“You should have 'stopped it’ when I first asked you to, now it’s too late to cooperate. Now I’m going to ask you again …close your eyes.”

“No..” she cried “Please.”

“Have it your way.” Marissa cocked the bullet once more and Claire winced, feeling her press it under her chin.

Now against the door Brandon could hear music playing loudly, as well as muffled cries in between.

He looked at the new key the clerk made him after taking a trip down to the lobby, and swallowed before sliding it through her door.

His mouth hung slightly agape at the sight before him.

“Marissa…”

Brandon blinked several times with a truly dumbfounded expression, replacing his usual impassive features.

She whirled around startled, and at that point he could see Claire turn a fearful face his way. Her eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open as if readying to scream.

“Brandon.” Marissa started.

"What the fuck are you doing?” the words effortlessly fell from his lips, unable to fathom how she was here when he had seen her off hours ago, to the airport.

“I’m here for you” she answered with a touch of insanity.

He then noticed the firearm in her hand, and Claire’s pleading eyes.

“Marissa, Put the gun down.” he cautiously approached her.

“I will, just as soon as I get rid of her, baby.” she enthused, her voice in high spirits turning back to Claire.

“No!” he raised his voice, halting her to a stop.

She turned around again, with confusion tracing her face.

“Marissa, let her go.”

He was scared.

It was written all over his face, and as calm as he was trying to be, every muscle in his body was tensed.

“Why?” she suddenly felt insulted.

“So we can handle this. Just put the gun down.”

“We are handling it, Brandon. This will only take a second.”

“Marissa, put the fucking gun down!” he was losing his patients and was not about to risk losing Claire either.

“Why! Why are you always defending her?! You love me! You don’t have to pretend anymore...”

“Marissa, please.” Brandon felt it best not to get into that topic with her, witnessing her current state.

“Why do you keep begging for her?!”

“Listen to him.” Claire urged.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up!” she turned back to Claire. “I’ve had enough of this shit. Good riddance.”

“Marissa STOP!” Brandon fiercely shouted, his heart pounding intensely in his chest.

“What the fuck is your problem!?” she turned around... and it went off again, sending Brandon to the floor.

Promptly, Claire’s voice raised three octaves in an earth shattering scream.

“Oh my god! Oh my god,” Marissa began to panic.

“Brandon” Claire attempted to run over, but Marissa pushed her back.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she frantically ordered, holding the gun in front of her.

Facing death was the farthest thing from Claire‘s mind after seeing Brandon laying on the ground. “Shoot me!” she shrieked at her. “If you need to kill me before you get him help, go ahead and fucking do it already!” She grabbed Marissa’s hand, guiding the gun to the middle of her forehead. “SHOOT ME!” Claire ordered.

Marissa envisioned this night turning out many ways, but never anything like this.

Unable to contain her own thoughts, she began shaking her head profoundly. “What did I do?!” She screamed at herself watching Brandon, then Claire on the other side weeping to be by his side. Slowly, his eyes opened and the first words that escaped his lips were

“Claire…”

“Baby, I’m right here! Are you okay?”

He seemed pretty disoriented, holding his arm.

“What's wrong with you!" Marissa screamed at him. “I wasted everything on you Brandon! I tried! I tried so hard to make you love me the way that I loved you.”

Now turning to Claire as if she were the plague, Marissa scathingly told her “I hate you more than you’ll ever know.” A few tears washed down her cheeks as she continued “You ruined everything in my life. Everything…”

She then pulled the gun to her head “You win.”

“MARISSA NO!”

The split second that bullet entered her skull, she felt every fibre of her being give way to the speeding, burning metal. She felt every muscle give way to death and just barely felt her soul being pulled away in a burst of bloody, glorious red.

Marissa didn’t fear dying as much as she feared being alone.

They both heard her lungs stop filling with air and her heart stop beating as she slumped forward and onto Claire.

Everything in that moment stopped.

The entire world was at a standstill as Claire remained pinned against the wall with Marissa’s lifeless body keeping her in place.

When her eyes caught sight of the vacant space where half Marissa’s skull once was,
and she began to hyperventilate.

Brandon rushed over, His eyes followed the scene before him with disbelieving terror.

The pink and crimson matter of Marissa's brains hung on the walls like hellish party streamers, caving in on them.

He was shaking, though slightly less than she was from what he was witnessing, but gained enough momentum to move Marissa’s body from weighing Claire’s down against the wall.

When he did, she fell sideways to the floor with a hard sudden thud; a look of shock on her face.

Breathe no more…

When Brandon’s hands reached out to pull Claire forward, she screamed out as if being burnt by fire--finally awaken from state of terror she was in.

She had gone into hysterics after crossing over Marissa’s body and into Brandon’s arms.

In an instant people were flooding out of their rooms trying to locate the commotion in the hall.

“I’ve got you," he repeated slowly, reassuringly.

As she fell into his chest, Brandon engulfed her small frame against his body, cupping his hand to the back of her head and cradling her close as she sobbed endlessly into his neck.

*

Blood had stained the carpet and the surrounding walls of the bedroom. Yellow tape blocked the entrance to suite, and police kept curious inhabitants back.

By now, the police on the scene had separated both Brandon and Claire. He was sitting in another room having his arm dressed by a paramedic from the bullet that had merely grazed his arm.

“You’re lucky” she commented, wrapping it up but he failed to respond.

On the other side of the room he watched as Claire tried to explain, but was incapable of making the words come out. She only stood still with a blanket covering her sagging shoulders and bandage wrapped around her head, still clearly remembering the horrifying images that was forever etched in her mind.

“That’s enough.” Brandon stood up.

“Her cut doesn’t require stitches, but we‘d like to take her to hospital just for observation, it’s also advisable that you come as well.”

“My arm’s fine.”

Right then, a stretcher with a black body bag passed by them both.

And officer walked over to Brandon, explaining “We’ve ruled it out as a suicide, but we still need to have a word with her.”

“Do it tomorrow, she can’t handle it tonight”

“We believe that’s best. Her brother and a few friends of yours are waiting downstairs for you two.”

There was slight commotion outside the doorway from the police, forcing everyone back to their own rooms as the other officer continued “They are clearing the pathway, for you two to leave. We’ll have security outside your rooms the entire night while we take care of the crime scene.”

“Thank you.”

*

The ride on the elevator was silent. They were both consumed in their own thoughts.

Brandon not knowing what to tell her and Claire unaware of anything besides the blood coating half her shirt in which she could only stare at with wide eyes.

Neither one had to touch the door before it swung open with Chris grabbing Claire anxiously. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry Claire. I should have never left you tonight.” her held her tightly.

“It’s not your fault,” She was suddenly crying at hearing him apologize.

The rest gave Brandon a quick hug, asking the imprudent question of whether he was alright.

“I’m fine.” he lied, more worried about Claire than himself.

They all gathered around the couch, quietly wondering where to begin.

Chris pulled his sister onto his lap while she burried her face at his shoulder, embarrassed of publicly sobbing. He rubbed her back calmingly while the other’s looked on empathetically.

Distress hung silently in the room, while the urge to cry grabbed at Brandon.

The air was heavy with held breaths and barely restrained comments before Mike finally asked
“What happened?” His curiosity compelling him inquire as sensibly as possible.

“Dude, I don’t think…”

Mike was somewhat surprised when Claire peeled herself away from Chris’ shoulder to answer.

“She was just there-” Claire explained to them in a broken voice “I woke up and she had a gun pointed in my face. She was upset that Brandon broke up with her and figured since I was the reason, she needed to get rid of me. She lost just it…I’d never seen her like that before…that angry, that dangerous.” Tears continuing to wash down her face, catching on the ridges of her long dark lashes. “And then, and then…she put the gun to-to her head and…”

“Okay that’s enough.” Chris excused them both, taking Claire upstairs trying to quell her hysteria.

He finally came back a few minutes later. “My mother’s on the phone, and I kind of need to take this call. Can one of you?...”

Brandon stood up to volunteer to keep an eye on Claire but at the same time his mobile began to sound in his pocket.

“Steve” Brandon acknowledged their manager on the line, knowing he too had to take the call.

“I’ll watch her.” Jose stood up.

“Thanks, I’ll only be a minute.”

Chris walked into another room.
*

More than a minute later, in fact nearly a half an hour later. Brandon had finished listening to Steve give his condolences and his plan for damager control, while Chris took a little while longer to convince their mother Claire was hanging on and would be fine.

They had no medicines other than cough mixtures, but there were dozens of champagne bottles.

Chris could clearly be heard yelling at Jose as it seemed he had already poured most of the bottles down Claire’s throat by the time the three of them returned.

Not a good idea, Brandon thought. He could hardly imagine what images Claire would see. What terror her alcohol-induced dreams held in store for her.

Claire looked bad, she was drunk, that was obvious, and she had been sick down on herself.

Chris was in the process of trying to wipe up the mess when they entered.

“How is she?” Mike asked pointlessly.

“How do you think?” He didn’t even glance at them as Chris tried to hold on to the babbling, crying, laughing and puking Claire.

“Wow she’s really not doing well.” Jose commented.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have given her so much to drink!” Chris shouted.

Brandon sent Jose daggers but said nothing.

Claire struggled suddenly in his arms, ranting, and shouting at the chandelier lights in the room.

“She’d been saying stuff while you guys were gone” Jose said loudly so they could hear above Claire’s slurred cries.

“I’m going to stay in here with her tonight.” Chris announced, and although Brandon would have liked to be with her also, he understood she needed her brother.

“I think we should all stay here tonight.” Mike rationalized.

“Well it’s not like space is an issue, so crash wherever.” Chris commented. “I just want to make sure she gets to bed alright.” He worried, having never seen her in that condition before in his life.

“Alright. Take it easy.” They exited the room one after the other.

*
“Come on,” Chris stood in front of her. “Time to get this off of you.” he referred to the bloodied nightshirt she was still in, feeling that if the mere sight of it bothered him, he couldn’t imagine what it was doing to her. He went into a nearby drawer grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of his shorts.
“Up” he quietly instructed and she raised her arms accordingly, allowing him to pull it off replacing it with the clean shirt and helping her step into the shorts.

“So horrible. So, so horrible.” She whispered with a few hiccups here and there,
locking her knees to her chest in a protective gesture.

*

In the main room, Ben noticed Brandon was gone.

Hearing the distinctive sound of a toilet seat being raised, he walked into the bathroom.

He noticed Brandon leant over vomiting. His stomach was in agonizing spasms.

Then he went to his knees and tried to forget what he’s seen, to shake it from his head... pound it from his temples.

At that point, Brandon felt hands close around his wrists to stop him from punching himself, but he fell forward and struck his forehead on the porcelain bowl while trying to pull away.

"Brandon, you alright man? do you want me to call the paramedics?"

"No" He breathed. His stomach heaved again, but there was nothing left to bring up.

Ben helped him rise to his feet and watched him rinse the bitter taste from his mouth then quietly walk into the living room.

"I'm going to get you some water."

He walked into the kitchen, to realize they ran out.

"Okay, i'll go get you some."

"Be careful" Brandon warned, not wanting anyone to recognize and bother him.

"You're acting like i'm you or something. People barely recognize me." he chuckled lightly, letting himself out.

There was a crushing pressure at his temples, behind his eyes, at the back of his head progressing down to his neck. Michael who now approached the scene, was sensitive enough to know not to talk. To let him ingest what had just gone on.

"How did this all happen..." Brandon kept his eyes closed, both hands massaging his temples.

Mike shook his head unable to give his friend a justifiable response.

“Just try and get some rest man, you‘ve been through enough for one night.” Were the only words of advice he would presently come up with.

TBC...

More to come sooon:) ciao(F)
- 17
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- 19
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Teardrop In The Fire