Chapter Text
Vince was stuck in the hospital for about two months, having to deal with a lot of physical therapy and a few small surgeries.
It was a miracle how well his recovery went. After those two months he was allowed to be released from the hospital, which he didn't actually agree with.
Sure he'd been in a coma for a good portion of his healing process, but two months felt like it wasn't enough.
It felt like he still needed some kind of treatment, like something was missing that the doctors forgot to do.
He didn't complain though when he got released, meant he got to get out of there sooner than he'd originally thought or expected.
His main worry after getting released was where he was going to stay. He had quite a bit of money saved up, so he was sure he could find a cheap place to rent or buy.
As long as it wasn't in the city. Or anywhere where he could run into Rody.
He'd made that man's life a living hell for the time they'd known each other, and he didn't want him to find out about this. About him being alive.
He needed him to continue believing he was dead, that he'd gotten his revenge and could rest easy.
Vince had gotten away with everything he'd done. Every sin he had committed, he'd gotten away with. He couldn't have Rody finding out he was alive, he couldn't have him realize that Vince had gotten away with it all.
The only form of punishment he'd received were the scars that now adorned his body.
Vince decided the moment he got out the hospital, that he needed to leave the city and find somewhere else to stay.
He didn't really know where he wanted to go, but after a while of thinking, he decided his hometown seemed the best fit.
It wasn't that far from the city, but far enough that there wouldn't be any way that him and Rody would run into each other.
Plus it allowed him to visit his parents, it'd been awhile since he'd seen them.
It was the safest option to go to them first. They'd probably help out with him finding a place, and getting his life back on track.
He didn't really know what he planned to do without the bistro, he'd worked hard to obtain the goal of opening it and becoming highly sought after.
Now that it was gone, what was there for him to do?
He didn't exactly want to open up another restaurant, he'd figured he'd had enough of that high road.
Maybe he'd just settle down, early retirement and all that. He had enough money, he didn't really need a job. It'd still be nice to have one though, just to make his life feel less numb.
He'd just have to figure it out as he went he supposed.
He just hoped Rody was able to move forward with everything that happened, finding peace with the 'fact' Vince was dead.
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Rody had spent the past few months trying his best at coping with the trauma of what had happened.
But it was difficult.
He found he couldn't stomach the sight or smell of meat, he became strictly vegetarian after realizing the fact there was no way he'd ever be able to eat meat again.
He used to love meaty meals, always had. But now there was no way in hell he'd ever eat meat again.
He felt sick even thinking about it.
He struggled with night terrors as well, all revolving around what happened at the bestro.
He often saw Vincent. Saw his body laying there on the tile floors of the kitchen, blood pooling out from the wound in his neck. He could see his eyes, wide as he watched him pour the oil over his body, as he saw him light the match.
He'd still been alive when he'd dropped it.
Despite everything Vincent has done to him, he couldn't bare imagining him burning alive. The amount of pain and agony he must have been it.
He deserved hell, sure. But had he really deserved to die like that? Had he deserved to die at all?
Maybe it would've been better if he'd had rotten in jail, his public name slandered for what he'd done. Would that have been better?
He often thought about the different outcomes of things, what would've happened if he'd done things differently.
The dreams about Vincent were one thing, but the ones with Manom were another.
He would imagine what happened to her, how she died, what Vincent had done with her body.
He'd imagine Vincent killing her. Slitting her throat, stabbing her, shoving her onto the table saw in the freezer. Hell, maybe he'd locked her in there to freeze to death for all he knew.
Every outcome was bad.
He'd wake up screaming from the dreams about her, he'd even thrown up after a particularly graphic one where Vincent had violently dismembered her.
He ended up getting a pretty shitty sleep schedule because of his night terrors. One he wasn't quite able to shake.
He stayed locked up in his apartment for several weeks at a time, developing a sense of paranoia.
There was almost something deep inside him that kept telling him; Vincent was alive.
He knew he wasn't, he knee he had killed him. But the paranoia was still there.
He was scared that Vincent would come for him, find him and do to him what he'd done to Manon. Whatever it had been. He didn't know, and he was terrified to find out.
He needed to get out, he had to get out.
There was no way he could stay here in the city, not after everything that had happened. Not after what he'd done.
He may have been a victim to something horrific, but he wasn't innocent either. He had killed someone.
It didn't matter how evil Vincent was, he had still murdered him.
He'd injured him out of self defense, but he'd killed him out of cold blood.
Vincent didn't have to die, he could've easily turned him in, make him face the consequences of his actions.
But then again, was that what he deserved?
It was so difficult for Rody to figure out.
He felt so much guilt for what he'd done, but at the same time he couldn't bring himself to regret it. It made him feel sick.
It had barely even been two months since what had happened, and Rody still couldn't move on.
He didn't really know what to do with himself. He was constantly locked inside his apartment, barely ate, barely slept.
He was paranoid behind belief.
There was no way he could stay in the city. He needed to leave, but he didn't have a reason to.
He couldn't just head back to his hometown without reason, and there was no way he could tell anyone about what he'd experienced.
Any evidence of what Vincent had done was burned down in the bestro alongside him, nobody would believe him about what happened.
It was far too late to tell anyone anything.
He'd been stuck trying to think of some excuse to leave, when the answer was slipped through his mail slot.
It was an eviction notice.
Rody hadn't paid his rent in months, and it seemed his landlord was tired of giving him second chances. Rody didn't complain.
He was out of there in less than a week.
He'd packed a few essentials, and had dumped the rest.
He didn't want anything that reminded him of what had happened, he wanted to forget this part of his life. Act like it never happened.
There were a few things he couldn't let go of though, when he really should have.
He gathered what little money he had, and took the soonest train out of the city. The only place he had to go was back to his hometown, to his parents.
They didn't know how much of a failure he'd grown up to be, and he was scared of them finding out.
But he needed this.
He'd think of something to tell them, something so they wouldn't question him.
This was his fresh start, his step into recovering from all this.
This was his road to healing, to a new life. Maybe even a better one.
One where he didn't have to be reminded of Vincent, of the things he'd experienced. Of the things he had done.
This was his fresh start. He'd be damned if he didn't take it.