Character: Terry (Tomb Raider 2)
Author's Note: This is an alternate ending for Terry.
I can’t feel my legs. Why the hell can’t I feel my legs? My heart starts to pound as I try to remember what happened to me.
I was in a cave, and I was diving for a box. Pandora’s box. Then there was Lara, and she tried to stop me. She shot me! The bitch shot me! But I’m not dead. How am I not dead?
“Ah, Mr. Sheridan, I see you’re awake.” I turn to the left to see who has spoken. A pretty woman in a white coat stands in the doorway, holding a clipboard and smiling. Her dark hair is piled on top of her head and she peers at me through a pair of red-rimmed glasses. She moves forward. “I’m Dr. Mitchell.”
I grunt at her, not quite sure what to say. She continues, unfazed and referring to her clipboard. “Mr. Sheridan, you’ve suffered an injury at the base of your spine. A bullet was lodged there and did significant damage.” At this point, she looks up. “I’m sorry, but you’ll never be able to walk again.”
It feels like someone has just punched me in the stomach. “Sorry?” I ask.
“You’ve lost the use of your legs, Mr. Sheridan.”
Rage overtakes me, and I frantically search for something, anything, to throw. My eyes land on a mug sitting on the small nightstand beside me. Picking it up, I hurl it at her. Thankfully, it smacks the wall next to her.
“Get out,” I warn dangerously.
She nods, still unfazed, and leaves the room. Alone, I let her words sink in. Never walk again? What the hell am I supposed to do now? Unable to stop myself, I start to cry. I turn my head so no one can see me, and just let the tears fall.
His breath caught in his throat when she wrapped her arms around him. He turned to see the small redheaded beauty standing behind him, her body encased in fur wraps.
He took her chin in his hand, his lips brushing hers. His other hand trailed down from her neck to her waist, where he reached to feel the soft skin underneath the fur.
The kiss deepened, and her tongue slipped smoothly past his parted lips. He felt his body hardened as she pressed hers against him.
He loved this woman, loved her more than anything. In that moment, he wanted to send a message to King Hrothgar and tell him to slay his own monsters. But he knew he couldn’t. He was the only one strong enough to take on Grendel.
He didn’t have to leave until the morning, though. So he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind as he led his woman to their bed to spend one last night with her.
He can’t look at himself in the mirror; he knows what’s there. He’s memorized the scar from his hairline to right above his jaw. He’s hideous, and the world certainly let him know it.
Because of this, he thinks it’s ironic that there are so many mirrors in his home. Several times he had almost smashed them, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. So, he covered them up in hopes he’d never have to look.
Madame Giry once told him that she never thought he was hideous. She even took off the mask and tenderly traced the scar. There was no horror in her eyes, no fear, only sadness.
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Erik,” she said. “Your abilities and your soul are beautiful, that’s all that matters.”
But he can’t believe her. Not after seeing young children screaming as they ran from him or old men laughing and throwing food in his cage. If that saying were true, he would have never been a sideshow act. He would have been only Erik, and he would have been loved.
Brenna McKinley pushed through the crowd, her heart racing. She had to reach the door. She had to. Someone grabbed her arms from behind, preventing her from moving.
"Let me go! He's out there. Let me go!" She screamed.
"You can't help him now. The fire's too bad," the person behind her said. It was her friend Jamie.
She could hear another scream. Looking up, she saw Quinn banging on the door. She could hear her same pain echoing in his screams.
Her heart broke as she let the water from the sprinklers run over her. She knew then that she'd never see him again, and she crumbled to the ground, defeated.
She stands on the other side of my cell, looking immaculate in that silly white coat. So perfect and so poised. She hasn’t changed since I saw her last. She’s still just as beautiful.
Why did I do it? Yeah, I still understand why I betrayed my government. No regrets there. But why did she have to leave as well. I thought she’d understand. But no, she lives in her perfect castle, never having to worry about how the government is treating her. She can do whatever she pleases.
Her offer sounds to good to be true, and I almost tell her to go to hell. But I don’t. At this point, I’d do anything for a taste of freedom, including spending time with her and lead her into the lion’s den.
So, I fall into her trap again and say yes.