Todd's Apartment

Todd's apartment was quiet, too quiet for him. The nurse had stopped coming by, Tea had left, and no one ever called. With the exception of Starr, Tea, and maybe Viki, there was no one he wanted to talk to. Still, it was too quiet.

When he was alone, and it was quiet, he started thinking about things. Things he wanted to forget about, things he could never forget. He was everything he despised in Peter Manning. Miserable, isolated a nonentity. And like his father, he wanted to take his misery out on someone, anyone.

Tearing something apart was not entirely out of the realm of possibility. It was what he wanted, but he knew from experience that it would do nothing to calm his racing mind. In the end, he would still be angry, more with himself once he saw his path of destruction.

In just a few days, his spirits had fallen to a near all time low. In a way, he wished he had not seen Tea that night in the club; it would have been so much easier. Instead, he found himself thinking about her, wanting her more than he had ever allowed himself to want anything so out of reach so far away.

That's the way it worked for him. He never got what he wanted. Never had. He wanted a mother and she left him. He wanted a father, and he abused him. He wanted a wife...he got Blair. Wanted a mother for his child...fell in love with her and blew it. Wanted a sister blew that too. The first part of his life, nothing he wanted came to fruition. The second part of his life, he had it all, and he threw it away.

While she was with him, he didn't have the urge to drink, or to smoke. He wanted to relish his time with her, unaltered. He was living the life that he dreamed of having with Tea, somewhat normal, by his definition anyway. They laughed, joked, and sat quietly in a room merely with one another, content. He didn't want to escape through his "indulgences." Since she had left, it was all he wanted to do.

Several times, he had opened his mouth to tell her how much he loved her. Each time, the little voice in the back of his head whispered, "don't." So he didn't. He would turn away from her; retreat into himself. Fight or flight. If he had it to do all over again, he would not have changed a thing. It was best for her that they be apart. He owed her that; owed her the freedom to have the life that she wanted. After all, he hurt he had spent the better part of two years destroying her, the least he could do was have the courtesy to let her rebuild her life without him and his toxicity.

He had an inkling to pick up camp and move again. He ran to New York, or rather, he ran away from Llanview, but Tea was too close again. Close in body, close in spirit, close in his heart. The chances of running into her again were slim, but he didn't trust himself to not go to her again. The lurker in him would lead him to her place time and time again, where he would stand outside of her building, staring at her window. It would only add to his torture. Then again, maybe it was just what he deserved, having the prize that he could never again possess, right in front of his face.

He taunted her for months. Went to her, kissed her, held her, again and again, and just when she would reach out to him, he would slap her hand away and scold her as he would a disobedient child. He knew she wanted him from the glisten in her eyes whenever they were in the same room. Viki told him. Sam told him. And what did he do? Ran from her. With a shaky voice and tear-stained cheeks, she would walk away from him, with the promise of never returning. Yet, he would chase her down, go after her, beg for forgiveness, play the "love" card, and she would return. It was the same thing, over and over again, and it was entirely his fault. Maybe he should be forced to stay somewhere near her, make him see exactly what he had fucked up.

He wasn't that noble or that gallant. The "inkling" was purely selfish. By staying, she would always know where he was. If there was a chance, the slightest possibility that she might once again want to be a part of his life, he wanted to be within her reach.

Getting around was difficult. On the outside, all the bruises had nearly faded away, with nothing but a trace of yellow here and there. Everything on the inside still hurt. Hurt like someone had beaten his whole body with a sledgehammer.

Guess I'm outta practice.

Peter used to beat him, turning his body every different color of the rainbow. Back then he didn't feel a thing. Stood up and took his beatings like a man. Didn't flinch, or twitch, or move a muscle took it. He could never feel it. "Scream like a bitch," Peter said. Todd wouldn't say a word, wouldn't make a sound. "You think you're so fucking tough? Take that!" His blows would become harder, pounding against his body like softball sized hail. And still, he looked him in the eyes as his skin burst open from the force of leather smacking against his tender skin. It would stop when Peter grew tired and bored, and they would go their separate ways.

Todd would limp upstairs to his bathroom, close the door and puke until there was nothing left. The colors fascinated him. Their mixture. Their vividness. Their brightness. The texture, thickness all caught his attention. There wasn't much color in his life. No texture. Nothing but dimness, the slickness of his life which he tried to lift himself up from, but always seemed to slide back down where Peter Manning was waiting for him. His wardrobe was black. His life was bleak. The color that came from him let him know he was not in a horrible nightmare; it was his life.

*****

The doctor had warned of "overexertion." But he didn't know Todd Manning. He would do exactly what he wanted, when he wanted and damn the consequences. Everything was a mission to him, a game, a challenge.

He wanted to get out of the apartment. The walls were closing in, suffocating him with their constriction. It didn't help any that the walls were white. White was blinding, made his eyes hurt, gave him a headache. White reminded him of goodness and all things pure, all things that were flawless. It didn't fit into his world. White didn't fit anywhere in the world because there was no such thing a pure goodness. It made him sick.

He hadn't bothered him much in the past. It could have been the Vicodin that he had been taking, but things that were "there" before, were now magnified and became an issue. He wanted to smear black across the white paint. Contaminate it a little. Make it more realistic.

If he stayed alone any longer, he was sure he would lose his mind. Turn into some sort of psycho freak that tried to pick daisies off the walls and suffered from spastic fits. Like Brad Pitt in "Twelve Monkey's" crazy as a loon. Viki was nuts, naturally, he would be nuts too.

*****

Tea had all of his clothes washed, ironed, and put away. She reorganized his closet and his drawers so "it made more sense." Tea had a "thing" for places. "Everything has its proper place in the world," she used to say. Even at the penthouse, she had the habit of reorganizing things every now and then. He would get so angry when he would look for a fork in the utensil drawer and she would have changed it around again. Looking back, it was funny. Neither of them knew the first thing about marriage and being a part of a family, so they were an experiment. And the experiment went drastically wrong.

She had organized his underwear drawer by color and style. They were folded neatly into piles, lined up into rows. He grabbed the first pair he saw, thought of how her hands took such care in putting away.

"Don't go getting all sentimental."

He dressed himself hurriedly, anxious to get out. He had spent too much time locked inside, hiding in isolation. Three weeks of breathing the same stale air re-circulating through the apartment was more than he could take.

*****

Misty saw him first, as he exited the elevator. She had radar, her eyes managed to find him every single time. She had been looking for him for weeks, hanging around the lobby, determined to pounce as soon as she saw him. He walked more slowly, she observed, and with one arm wrapped around his midsection.

She waited for him to come closer before stepping into his path. She timed it perfectly, blocking his path. "Oh hey," she said nonchalantly.

"Hey," he said, trying to move past her.

"You look like you could use a cup of coffee. You up for it?"

She was the type that refused to take "no" for an answer. The more you resisted, the harder she would try. Eventually she would wear you down and get exactly what she wanted in the first place. She was the type he messed around with in high school and college, one of those girls who hung around the athletes, practically begging to be fucked.

"Aw, come on. Just one cup of coffee no strings."

Come on. Just one cup of coffee, then, she'll leave you alone. Show her what kind of asshole you can be. Do it! Do it!

"Yeah, fine. One cup then you leave me alone."

She took him to a secluded coffee shop. It was a quiet, trendy place, in the heart of the Village. It was one of those places that looked uninviting on the outside, a place that most people would pass without giving it a second glance. On the inside, it called to the spirit. A combination of trendy, modern style, and soft spirituality, it was welcoming. It forced relaxation.

Todd even relaxed in the environment. He looked around, noticing how there was nothing but couples surrounding them. They all seemed to be involved in intimate conversations as they huddled together. Various aromas filled the air. Coffee mixed with cinnamon rolls mixed with cookies mixed with all kinds of other things. Made him hungry. Manipulated his senses.

"You like?" She asked hopefully.

"Whatever," he grumbled.

"Whatever," she playfully mocked. "Come on." She led him to a booth near the back. "What do you want?"

"Don't care."

"You're an easy man to please." He was unresponsive. "Um, okay, I'll pick and I'll be right back. Don't disappear on me."

While he waited, he could feel the eyes on him. He didn't have to see them to know people were watching, wondering what a loser like him could be doing in a place like that. They were shooting invisible daggers at him. Playing with the napkin holder on the table, he tried to distract himself. It didn't work. He could hear their whispers, but not what they were saying. Their fingers were pointing at him.

Stop it. You're being paranoid again. Nobody's watching you. They don't even see you. Don't you know by now that you're nothing?

"Todd? Todd?"

He didn't know how long she had been standing in front of him, calling his name. He didn't know much of anything, other than he was slowly losing his mind, if he hadn't lost it already. "Yeah?"

"Here," she said, handing him his drink. "It's a white mocha." She slipped into the booth, not across from him, but next to him, using her body to nudge him closer to the wall.

Her body repelled him. Everything about her made him yearn to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Blair's kept coming to mind whenever he saw Misty. They were alike in their pushiness, cockiness, self-centeredness; they were dangerous. Black widows...prowling for their next prey to cast their web around.

"So, are you going to talk, or are you just going to sit there and blow on your drink?" She wanted Todd. For once, she wished she was Tea and had the opportunity to be with him. She never would have let him go, no matter what.

"I don't like talkin'."

"Tell me something I don't know."

He blew his warm breath into his hot drink, watching the whipped cream that topped it evaporate in front of his eyes. He wished someone would make him disappear like that cream. Fade away to someplace no one would ever find him.

"So, are you seeing anybody?" She already knew the answer to that question, and just about everything else about his life. She had done her research. Asked just about everyone she knew about him. Very few details came out, other than what was in the paper. They all pretty much said he was nothing more than a monster. Then again, they had never met him. They had never looked into his eyes and saw the deep sadness behind them.

"Uh, uh too personal."

"Well, how do we get to know each other if we don't get personal?"

"We don't." She had trapped him. Pinned him between the wall and her body he couldn't wait to get away. He started guzzling his mocha, drinking as fast as he could so he could escape from her trap.

"You sure know how to hurt a woman's feelings," she stated, completely undeterred.

"I don't know how many ways I have to say it, but I'm not interested. Why don't you quit wasting your time on something that ain't gonna happen?"

"Because I like challenges and you are nothing if not a challenge. We both know what's going to happen."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"I'm going to wear you down. I don't take no for an answer, Mr. Manning, I have never had to and I don't intend to start now. You will succumb to me. You know it and I know it."

Never tell a rapist you don't take "no" for an answer. Never tell me what I will do. I do what I fucking want to do! He looked at her with hate shining in his eyes. At that moment, he wanted to hurt her, just to let her know he was in control. He grabbed onto the edge of the table and clamped his hands as tight as he could around it. If his hands had not been occupied, he could have wrapped them around her neck and choked her to death.

"I'll keep playing this little game with you, I find it rather entertaining. And I find you incredibly sexy." She whispered "sexy" in his ear. He jumped back as he felt her breath on his ear, tickling him.

"And I will tell you this one more time," he says confidently. "I don't like you. I don't want to be anywhere near you. What I want more than anything is for you to leave me the fuck alone. The only reason I came with you today was to get you off my back."

"Mr. Manning, I haven't gotten you on your back yet. When I do, there is no way you'll want me to stay away." She smiled at him as she placed her empty cup on the table. Without a "goodbye," she strolled out of the cafe, without a backwards glance. You are going to be a bit of a challenge, aren't you?

COPYRIGHT NOTICE:: The stories published on The Florencia Lozano Home Page are the property of the individual authors. You may not: Distribute the text to others without the EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION of the copyright owner. You may: print copies of the information for your own personal use, store the files on your computer for your own personal use, reference hypertext documents on this server from your own documents.

This site (and linked sites) is not affiliated with ABC Soaps and is not endorsed by them. The images, characters and settings are all copyrighted by ABC Daytime. All material included on these pages is for educational purposes, in accordance with the "Fair Use" Act.