***
"Cause I need to watch things die
From a good, safe distance
Vicariously, I live
While the whole world dies
You all need it too, don't lie."
MJK
***
Travis Cole couldn't complain about his life. Being the only child of a wealthy family, he had a solid upbringing. The prosperous education allowed him to achieve enormous professional success; he was known as "the terror of Wall Street".
He had made every penny on his own, by out-toughing the other tough sons of bitches on the market. All that accomplishment did make him a bit cocky, yet he managed to develop strong moral values, which avoided the deterioration of his sense of compassion.
It took some time for him to learn that, though. Travis had seen and done many things throughout the years, some arguably questionable. He had seduced all kinds of women around the country and had forgotten how many cunts he had fucked as he traveled around. He would use his looks; charm and intelligence to find his marks, and then his big, thick cock would seal the deal every time. It had never failed.
When he was done fucking them silly, they would do anything to stay with him. However, he got bored, or the situation soured, he just moved on. He'd had many altercations with mad boyfriends and husbands whose mates had cheated with him. He didn't use to care. He had always won every fight and dispute.
He was always looking for his new mark, the next woman that he would send to heaven with his huge cock and reap the benefits of her desires and lifestyle. Finding the right woman just took time and patience. He knew what to look for, that certain element that allowed him to know they were available and ready to play, even if they didn't know it themselves.
Then before she even knew what happened, he would be between her thighs pumping his large cock into her creaming pussy. Taking her to places she never imagined a man could take her, and she would be his. She would abandon home, husband, family and all rational thought to be with him.
Travis had always figured out a way to escape with his hide intact, after he had reamed the pussy and had his fun. He was cool, very calm, could be vicious, sadistic and he didn't care about anyone or anything except himself. That what made him so successful at what he did. It also made him empty inside.
It all started to change when he had a short work break and took the opportunity to drive through the countryside. Travis was a proud owner of a shiny silver BMW Z8; the 4.9l, 32 valve, V8 engine "suited his aggressive style", he used to say.
An arrogant young man, with the wind in his hair, cruising up the modest country roads in a fancy imported car - that was what it looked like. There was a word for people who did this. The one reserved for people in BMWs that acted just like him; the vernacular for a pompous, illegitimate child.
The car's 19-inch wheels combined to high-performance tires and rigid suspension worked flawlessly on smooth motorways; the ride felt surprisingly soft. However, on flowing country lane, things were a different matter: the grip was severely reduced; quick maneuvers would easily unsettle the car. On a twisty section of the country lane, Travis unleashed the suspension of the Z8, and found its upper limits on the bumpy road.
Experts said that he could enter a corner at a suicidal speed and as he felt the tires giving up their struggle to hang on, he could accelerate further. They talked about how he would feel the computers working out a solution, and how the grip would be restored, harnessed and exploited in a way that he'd be wide-eyed with startlement.
Even the high-end German technology couldn't prevent him from hitting a tree eighty miles per hour, though. Travis knew better than drink and drive -- fast and recklessly -- but he just assumed nothing bad would ever happen to him, he was just too high in a pedestal.
Indeed, the car's safety features played a crucial role in protecting his life. The progressively deformable, aluminum chassis and structure managed to absorb most of the impact, while the six airbags attenuated a possible fatal head trauma and rapid deceleration of his body.
Travis woke up one week later, at the local hospital, throbbing pain threatened to split open his skull. He blinked his blurry eyes, overwhelmed by dizziness. His irresponsible action resulted in several fractured bones and a major concussion. The doctors told him he was very lucky to be alive, and even luckier that he wouldn't have any permanent brain or nerve damage.
The recovery process was quite painful: several physiotherapy sessions were needed for him to recover his motor skills. Fifteen months after the accident, he managed to be in top shape, even better than before, but not without strict discipline and reeducation.
Travis finally realized that his former lifestyle was not something he was proud of and decided to make a radical change. He needed to balance the professional and personal aspects of his life, so he started engaging in social activities, instead of wasting his free time gambling, jet skiing or being a plain asshole.
Helping people in need became a priority for him, and he dedicated both time and money to that cause. He made constant charity donations and became the top contributor to the hospital that saved his life, St. Patrick's. Travis thought it was only fair, a small retribution to the excellent medical care he received.
His playboy and arrogant days were gone. As he got more involved in his side project, he was surprised to know how that actually helped him improve his professional career as well. Dropping his belligerent behavior, Travis managed to further succeed at his stock acquisitions, interacting cordially with his colleagues. Their fear of him was slowly replaced by utter admiration.
The ability to keep in touch with his feelings allowed Travis to achieve what he considered most valuable: his marriage. He met his wife at one of the hospital's found-raising events. Amanda Cole was a former athlete who dedicated a considerable amount of her time to help patients have a healthier life.
He observed her at the cocktail; he could tell she wasn't waiting for anyone. She was by herself, and looking for an interesting time. Not sex, but someone to keep her company and entertained for the evening. Someone smart and interesting.
The new Travis found further qualities in her, aside from her obvious beauty, and the interest was mutual. They became friends and shared their passion in making a difference together. In no time, they realized they had so much in common that they were meant for each other.
Marriage was a natural consequence, and they had a big wedding indeed. Although Amanda wanted something discrete, Travis believed it was a life milestone and made sure to have a large ceremony to celebrate it. They threw a huge party, surrounded by family and friends and headed for their deserved honeymoon.
They moved to New York and lived a happy and fulfilling life. They were both eager to have a child, especially Travis. He knew he had matured over the years and considered himself ready to be a father. Again, life was good and he couldn't complain about it.
***
That was three years ago, it seemed like an eternity now.
Unexpectedly, Amanda fell ill and passed away. Travis had his wife taken from him; his life lost its meaning and became an endless nightmare. Long months, which Amanda spent in the best hospitals, while Travis kept an uneasy balance between hope and despair, still believing, that his wife could be saved, but becoming more and more convinced that it was impossible.
He wanted to help her somehow -- read medical literature, but with little results. "None of them ever did any good", he thought. Amanda's disease was slowly killing them both. Like two prisoners, sentenced to death, they waited for the end. Travis was tired; he just wanted the torture to end so that the painful wait caused them no more suffering.
About a week before the end, Amanda returned home to her husband -- not because she was better, she knew that her death was near and it would be her last chance to see Travis. She wanted to visit the town they first met one more time, but her condition was getting worse and worse, her time was running out -- and she wouldn't have survived the ride.
Thus, she spent several days with Travis, slowly dying before his own eyes. One day, the suffering finally ended. Amanda held her last breath while Travis felt her in his arms. He said goodbye to his wife Amanda, and hoped for all her dreams to be good.
He thought that after Amanda's death he would feel relieved, knowing that his wife's torment ended and she had gone to a better place, but that didn't happen. Travis couldn't live anymore, yet he was too weak too die. He had lost his will and reason to live.
"Walking corpse" was the common expression referred to him. He couldn't move forward, the events of the past haunted him, and he suffered as he realized he would never have her again. Travis tried different ways of coming through it but all the sad images were laid down deep in his subconscious, forming a complex web of thoughts, emotions and memories.
His workmates and friends stayed by his side, and, after a long period of grief, he slowly resumed his daily activities. Travis wasn't the same guy, though. He didn't become the same selfish person as before, but it was obvious that the traumatizing experience created a shell that kept him away from the people around him.
Unable to accept the truth, he convinced himself that his wife died for a reason. Died from the disease, and it wasn't his fault. It eased the pain, but he couldn't help but want her to be alive, to be with her. Weeks, months passed, Travis finally was on the verge of living a normal life again.
However, something even more unexpected happened: he received a letter. A letter from Amanda.
Surely, it was a tasteless prank. Who would do something like that? It read, "In my fidgety dreams, I see our town. You promised me you'd take me there again someday. You never did, though. Well, I am here and waiting for you. I will wait forever for you. Love, A."
What to do if a person can't accept the cruel reality the way it is? Or exist in it? "Suffering is a fact of life. Either you learn to deal with that or you go under. You can't stay in a dream world, Travis. Someone made an awful joke, let it go," his friends told him.
But, when reality brought nothing but suffering, when it surrounded you with darkness, the mind struggled to create a new reality to exist in, one where it may be possible to find happiness. Despite all the advice to drop the matter and move on, Travis simply couldn't.
He was sure it was her handwriting. He didn't have an explanation for it, and that prevented him from letting it go. He had found temporary happiness in denying the facts and running away into a world of unknown possibilities.
Could Amanda somehow still be alive? Was she really waiting for him? Wasn't likely to be true. But, what good was truth, if it destroyed happiness, ruined life and left no place for hope? This letter was Travis' last.
He was afraid this world of his was created by the subconscious and made his wish come true. Or rather, this world was his subconscious: a mixture of his memories, desires and hopes. What if it was a reflection of his true nature, a mirror reflecting the one looking in, combining the subtlety of the image with the depth of thought?
He was scared to fully transfer into the subconscious world and sever all connections to reality, dwelling in the realm of his personal thoughts. It didn't matter, though; now the only thing left to do was to fulfill her last wish: he would look for her in the town of their memories.
***
