writefiction: (Zac Africa Cam)
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Title / Chapter: The Beat of Your Heart (01/?)
Author: amanda: jaclyn's twin sister
Pairing: Zac Hanson / OFC [Julie]
Rating: Light PG (there’s nothing really inappropriate except for the word "hell")
P.O.V.: First Person, Zac Hanson
Author’s Notes: This was written for [livejournal.com profile] all_unwritten’s prompt #92: her hair fell over her eyes. It went from a drabble/short into something more =)
Previous Chapters
Summary: Not your typical boy-meets-girl.




CHAPTER ONE:

Six Months Earlier

I’m not exactly sure what happened that night. All I know for sure is that I was at my wedding reception, dancing and having fun, glad to finally marry the girl of my dreams. The next thing I know she’s gone and I’ve never felt more alone in my entire life. I was told we were in an automobile accident. Our limo was hit by a drunk driver after we’d taken care to get a chauffer so we wouldn’t be in that sort of predicament. It makes me angry; angrier still that I can’t remember one minute of it. I don’t know if I even got to say goodbye to the love of my life.

It’s been three weeks since the funeral and I’m still staying at my mom and dad’s place. They insisted I come stay with them for a while. I agreed even though I don’t want to be around anyone; not my parents and definitely not my younger siblings. I just want to be alone, which is all I’ll ever be now that Kate’s gone.

There’s a knock on my door. "Zac, honey, it’s Mom," my mother calls through the door. I don’t answer her. "I’ve got your mail," she continues. Still nothing. "At least let me know you’re still breathing in there." I sigh heavily.

"Come in," I call out. My door opens quietly and my mom pokes her head inside the room. She gives me a hesitant smile before moving closer. I look down at my hands as she scrutinizes my appearance.

"Honey, when was the last time you showered?" she asks. I shrug silently. "When’s the last time you even got up and dressed?"

"You brought me my mail?" I lift my gaze to hers as I deliberately change the subject.

My mom purses her lips. "Yes," she says holding out a white envelope. "It’s from the organ donation people." My hand stops in mid-air at her words. Organ donation, the thought freaks me out.

"What do they want?" I ask, finally pinching the paper between my fingers.

"Well I don’t know," my mom answers, "I didn’t read it." I nod, turning the envelope over and over in my hands. After a moment of silence, she turns and leaves the room.

I sigh and scrub my face with my one good hand. Did I forget to mention I was injured a bit in the accident? A broken wrist and three cracked ribs. I also had to have six stitches under my right eye. Surprisingly I’m not in too much pain. But that could have to do with the Vicodin and my lack of motivation to get out of bed.

I sigh again and look at the plain white envelope. The return address is a generic address label but my name and address are handwritten. I really don’t want to open this letter. Just looking at it makes me queasy. But I take a deep breath and rip it open. Inside there’s a sheet of lined notebook paper with a note attached to the corner. Curious, I read the note first.


Dear Mr. Hanson,
We have received a letter asking for permission to contact you from a recipient of one of your wife’s organs. Because the organ donation process is strictly anonymous, we require that any initial letters of this kind be sent to the donating family through our organization.

We would like you to know that none of your information has been passed along to this recipient or anyone else your wife’s donations may have helped. We would also like you to know that as a requirement we have read the attached letter before sending it to make sure there was nothing inappropriate stated.

If you would like to make further contact with this recipient, please let us know as they have given us permission to release their information to you upon your request.

Best wishes,
Gary Lions, M.D.
Executive Director of Organ Donation
Georgia State Division



I make a face, not quite sure what to think of this overly-formal statement. Do I really want to read a letter from one of my wife’s…recipients? I’m not sure that I do. But if I read the letter it doesn’t mean I’m forming any sort of relationship with this person. I never have to see them. I never have to speak to them. Hell, they don’t even have to know I read the letter. It’s all up to me. So maybe I could take a peek and then rip it up and burn it in the bathtub.

I continue to make a list of pros and cons in my head till I’ve worked my curiosity into a frenzy. I want to know what this person has to say. What could they say in this type of situation? There’s only one way to find out.

I fold back Gary Lions’ letter and begin to read the next sheet of paper.



To Whom This May Concern,

My name is Julie. Today is my twenty-first birthday, a day I never thought I’d see. But thanks to your loved one’s generous donation I have reached twenty-one.

I’ll make this as short as I can. I mean, what can I say really, besides telling you how grateful I am? But that’s just it, I’m eternally grateful and I don’t think I could say Thank You enough times for it to actually express my gratitude.

I’d like to meet you, just once, to find out more about the person whose heart is keeping me alive. Obviously it’s up to you and you don’t even have to reply to this letter if you don’t want. I know this must be weird, but I felt the need to tell you that your loved one did not die in vain. A life was lost, but a life was saved too.

No matter your decision, I’ll always remember how I reached my 21st birthday.

With Love,
Julie




By the time I’m done reading, my eyes are filled with tears; hot, wet, stinging tears. There are so many mixed emotions running through me. I don’t know whether to be angry or sad or….what? I’m not sure. It’s like a tornado of emotions with me right in the eye of the storm. I read the letter again through my blurry vision. When I get to the end, I crumple the notebook paper up into the tightest ball I can manage. Then I flop face down on my bed, hiding my face in my pillows, the letter bunch up in my fist. There I lay, crying, for God knows how many hours, or maybe it was minutes. I just no I can’t stop crying and I don’t know whether it’s from anger or sadness…or both.

Soon enough I sob myself to sleep, tortured with what I assume are flashbacks of our accident.


& & & & & & &

Stay Tuned for Chapter Two!!!!!
If you enjoyed this,
Let me know!
Comments are ALWAYS appreciated.
As well as constructive critism :)



Date: June 12th, 2009 03:59 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mizzc.livejournal.com
Oh wow! This story is amazing so far! I literally have chills! :) More soon please!!!

Date: June 12th, 2009 04:40 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] writefiction.livejournal.com
That has to be one of the best comments I've ever gotten =D I'm so glad you're enjoying this. I can't wait to write more. I'd do it now, but I'll probably stay up all night if I try to work on it. And two nights in a row up until 4am is justnot good lol

Thanks for reading and thanks for leaving me comments. They make me want to write more =)

Date: June 12th, 2009 04:55 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mizzc.livejournal.com
You are totally welcome! I love it. PS- I am completely pumped you decided to join the Spark Inside Hanfic Challenge. :)

Date: June 12th, 2009 05:16 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] prettyzombiegrl.livejournal.com
This is amazing! My own heart goes out to Zac. The pain he's feeling in this story is so excrutiating it's like you can feel it as you read it. Very good, once again. More asap!

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