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Jude Murray was a broken man.
He and Lynn had been on the rocks in their relationship even when they conceived their son. A divorce was just waiting to happen as an Alternate pushed Lynn's sanity to its limit day by day. Jude's alcohol became the only comfort he had, as his coworkers weren't the most friendly people. They were drifting apart, when they used to be an adoring couple. The two of them had been madly in love, once.
They met when they were teenagers, awkward yet intrigued by one another. He was flustered, made nervous by her beauty. She was reserved, charmed by his flirting. They took each other out on small dates, exchanging experiences and stories. He remembered sitting in a small cafe, silently zoning out and feeling entranced by the way she brushed her curly hair behind her ear.
Jude Murray had been captivated by her, unable to look away or hide the heated color of his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck once she caught him staring, averting his eyes and chuckling nervously. He smiled, feeling his heart flutter in his chest as she talked about what she liked doing. A bookworm that played soccer sometimes, but Lynn admitted that she only engaged in the sport because of her friends. She had started gesturing while ranting about how her long hair got in the way, even if she pulled it into a ponytail.
He felt enamored, watching the way her expressions shifted with her voice. He usually regarded himself as talkative, but her voice was so nice to listen to that it made him feel breathless. The brunette knew he had fallen head over heels in love with her as he learned more about her. She poked fun at the way his drink cooled down by the time she had finished telling her stories. Jude had blushed hard enough to light up his ears, explaining through stutters that the cafe's lighting had made her look really photogenic.
Lynn Barnes had been flattered as she eased him into talking about the club he was in. The photography club wasn't too popular at their school, but Jude was passionate about it. He loved taking in the scenery around him, occasionally running late to classes or bumping into people because he was too busy looking at the clouds. He stammered through stories about his extended family, grateful for her patience. She thought he was cute in the way he rambled.
His eyes were gorgeous to her. They were dark brown, and even though he didn't think of them as special, she knew she could fall in love just a little more by staring at them. Jude was expressive in many ways, from his body language to his facial expressions. She enjoyed figuring out his mannerisms, like how his entire face flushed pinkish red whenever she kissed his cheek. His eyes always lit up when he laughed, and he seemed genuinely happy. Sometimes he was quieter, or less willing to share his thoughts and feelings, but Lynn navigated those roadblocks with him.
They were loving towards each other, marrying in their mid-twenties. Many of their acquaintances had always agreed that they were a wonderful couple. On their honeymoon, the two of them were staring up at the sky with their hands interlocked. He glanced over at her, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. The evening light painted her blonde hair in vivid shades of pink and orange, lighting up her visage.
She looked perfect to him. He knew that no camera could capture all the fine details of her dress, or the hues of color on her face. Jude felt breathless once again, leaning towards her to connect their lips together in a soft kiss. Even with his eyes closed, he could envision the look on her face. His heart had been soaring from the passionate moment.
Jude remembered that being the last truly happy moment he had with her. After their honeymoon, things had declined. His office job wore on him, the irritating people and their toxicity rubbing off on him. Looking back on it, he realized that he had changed so drastically. Going from a lovestruck idiot to a selfish bastard wasn't exactly a proud moment for him.
He had changed in one way as Lynn changed in another. He should've paid closer attention to the things he thought he saw in the shadows. Maybe then he wouldn't have lost her. Maybe he wouldn't have lost his son. The thing that called itself his son wasn't human, it made him feel sick.
Jude stared at the framed picture in his hands. It contained himself and Lynn, smiling brightly with a baby cradled in her arms. His brain was sent into turmoil as he looked over at the picture of a young Adam. Should he have tried to be a good parent to thing that claimed it was his son? That thing, that- that Alternate had looked almost lost when he shouted at it in a drunken rage.
It acted less energetic or curious than most toddlers, but the dead look in its eyes couldn't be mistaken for human. Yet it had shown fear, and closed itself off when he was in a bad mood. He sighed heavily, setting the photo aside before running a hand through his messy hair. He felt heat build in his eyes and the tears that followed. He had been pathetic as a husband and a father.
Jude could hear a buzzing in his head. He didn't need to look up to know that the shadow in the corner of his trash laden bedroom had eyes. It had been watching him for hours. He wondered if it thought his display of grief was funny. The miserable ball of sadness that laid in his wretched heart managed to overshadow his fear.
He was a mess of a man, it would be so easy to let it kill him at his lowest point. Yet something in Jude’s brain was offended that he would think it. If he was anything, he was stubborn to a fault. He wasn't perfect, he wasn't even good , but he would be damned if he let this creature end him. Jude wouldn't do it for himself, but he would live.
He might hate himself, but he hated the thing in front of him more than he could even comprehend . With fury in his eyes and tears streaking down his cheeks, Jude grabbed a stray empty bottle of liquor, it was heavy in his tight grip. The Alternate in front of him was tall, but it seemed small in the face of his newfound determination. He hadn't felt sober in a long time, not as he smashed the bottle over its head. He didn't know if this godforsaken creature could be killed, but he was going to try with all of the might he had in his body.
He would do it for Lynn. He would do it for his son. He would do it to destroy the thing that took them away from him. Blind, vitriolic rage burned through his system. He attacked wildly, breaking heavy bottles into its body.
A dark substance dripped onto the carpet of the bedroom, and the adrenaline kicked in faster than anything else he had ever felt. He could hear it screeching, he could feel the way it flailed as he tackled it to the floor. Jude used the broken half of a bottle to stab the Alternate until his clothing and arms were splattered with its dark blood. He didn't care , he wanted it dead . His mind felt clouded by the primal urge of violence.
His adrenaline wore off at some point, but Jude couldn't tell anyone when. He just knew that he was exhausted, sitting on an unmoving body, surrounded by shards of glass. Dark eyes searched for any signs of life, and found none. The weary man limped back to his unmade bed, recognizing that his thigh had deep gouges in it. The blood staining his shirt told him that his side suffered the same injury.
He picked up the phone, dialing 911 in his bleary state. He spoke to an officer, explaining that he was “attacked in his home, and was bleeding out.” The operator asked for his address, to which he gave it after being instructed to keep pressure on the wounds. Jude tied his shirt around his side, then pressed a blanket to his thigh. He felt disconnected from reality.
His actions hadn't occurred to him yet. He had killed an Alternate. That was unheard of on its own, but he hadn't even sustained mental damage. Maybe it wasn't setting in or something. Maybe it didn't matter.
Jude breathed slowly as an officer walked into his room. He could hear the glass crunching underneath the other man’s shoes. This officer took one look at how dazed he was, and instructed him to keep the blanket over the wound. Jude would be driven to a hospital for treatment. He nodded at the instructions, barely reacting as he was lifted into a bridal carry.
The car ride blurred into passing lights and vague speech over a radio. It melted into a bright room and a cold table. There was a stinging sensation, something wet, then he felt something winding around his side. His thigh was next as the officer.. Lieutenant Davis, he thinks he heard? Claimed he was just in shock.
Jude made a non-committal noise of agreement, he didn't know much about the human brain or how it acted. Things continued to pass by meaninglessly until his mind finally started to regain awareness. He was still in the hospital, with a nurse in the room. He asked her what all happened, and she was patient enough to explain that he had been disassociating from the prior events. A lot of shock can do that to someone, as he learned.
He was discharged a few days later, when the doctors were sure that his wounds weren't in danger of opening. Physically, he wasn't great. Mentally and emotionally? Worse, probably. Either way, there was something burning in the back of his head.
The same part of him that refused to die to an Alternate. It wanted to be better. He just survived an attack that irreversibly traumatized people if they made it out alive. This was the time to turn over a new leaf. No more wallowing, no more drinking.
It was time to regain control of his life.
. . .
This process wasn't easy, as going cold turkey with his alcohol had been a very painful lapse in both his judgment and confidence. Nausea and dizziness had torn him a new one for weeks . Still, he persisted by attending a rehabilitation program for recovering alcoholics. No going back. There were a lot of things he had to do, it felt overwhelming.
He started by cleaning his house. The trash that he threw everywhere was discarded, and the empty bottles were moved to the recycling bin. In a strange way, it felt like he was clearing his head. Jude had never enjoyed cleaning, and was rare to tidy up, but it didn't feel like such an intense chore. His clean home reminded him that he was alone.
The depression reminded him that it was still there, eating away at the small pride he had in himself. While tears streamed down his cheeks, Jude made a call to a therapist. There was no judgment, even though he was definitely sobbing his eyes out over the phone. Soon enough, he was more worried about what clothing he was supposed to wear rather than concerning himself over what the therapist would think of him. It took the man to realize this was progress.
The months rolled by, and it was eventually January. For Christmas, Jude had sold his house to move in with a new friend of his. While he loved the house, there were more bad memories than good. Arguments, nights he spent drunk off his ass.. he preferred to leave those behind. He was still Jude Murray, but he was forging a new path ahead.
His hands were stuffed into his old winter jacket as he walked down the street. The snow blanketing the ground made for a nice sight to him. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt at peace just by taking in the scenery. He exhaled as his hand twitched towards the old camera hanging around his neck. It still had film in it.
Jude took hold of the object, snapping a picture of the snowy street. It had been a long time since he engaged in photography, as he had dropped the hobby after Lynn’s death. Holding a camera no longer made him feel like grabbing a bottle and chugging it in the darkness of his bedroom. He knew he was getting better, ever since he moved in with Dave Lee. Both of them had horrific encounters with Alternates, though it had left Dave blind.
His roommate was shaken, yet largely nonchalant about it. He liked joking that he could hear Jude breathing, which always made the brunet roll his eyes. A smile ghosted his lips. Jude wondered how one man could’ve helped him improve so much. The ongoing therapy had been a big part of his recovery, but still .
Dave was the one to make him laugh again. His newfound companion made it easy to relax, to ground himself when his brain began to drift. Well- again, the therapy had contributed more heavily to the coping mechanisms. It didn't matter who did what, really. Just that Jude felt light and alive.
It had been a long time since he felt okay. Breaking his alcohol addiction had been a rough period of time, though he found himself making tenuous connections with the other people in the alcoholic rehab program. They were all just people that wanted to be stable, to have something to depend on. Apparently, drinking was a morbidly common coping method for people who had survived Alternate attacks. He knows this because he met several other parents whose children had been involved in attacks.
In the few group therapy sessions he attended, he met the single mother Manuela Torres, who had sustained multiple stab wounds when she was confronted directly by an Alternate. She expressed many times in both English and Spanish that she wished she hadn't left her son alone. Her sentiments were echoed by the religiously lost couple of Jane and Dante Heathcliff. Their own kids had been targeted by Alternates on two separate occasions, but they had been stranded by a rough blizzard up in Yonder County. Jude remembered suggesting if the Alternates had planned the separation of the parents from their children, and everyone had gone quiet in thought.
Those sessions had made him reflect a lot about how he acted as a father. Especially when he was introduced to Mervin Marshall. While Jude knows he wasn't a great parent, he could practically see the word scumbag written all over Mervin. The guy was a fishy lawyer at best and downright neglectful at worst. The man’s divorce had barely even affected him, despite the three year marriage he had with Katie.
Jude had to reign in his fury, seeing a worse version of himself in Mervin. He sternly reminded himself that he was doing better before entering a very tedious conversation with the fellow father. He made himself clear at the end of that talk that he didn't want anything to do with the lawyer, and immediately excused himself. There was one thing he had in common with all of the parents he met. All of them had no idea where their children were.
They had been presumed dead, rather than just missing. Familiar guilt welled up in his chest. This was an internal debate he often had with himself. Adam, and how he should’ve treated the kid better. Alternate or not, that was his son.
Unfortunately, the last time he was even remotely aware of Adam was when Jude spotted a Wanted poster for him and Jonah Marshall. Trying to reason out his actions never got him anywhere productive. It was very unlikely that Adam would want to see him, anyway. The man with dark hair forced himself to focus. No self loathing, it would only lead him into a spiral of self hatred.
Jude nodded to himself, then straightened his shirt. The other parents were talking about hosting a dinner. Manuela offered to help Jane cook, and Jude found himself walking over to engage in the conversation. He asked what would be made, if he could help in any way, if he could bring Dave along? All of his questions were answered by an excited Manuela and a more composed Jane.
They were going to bake a ham, with yams, mashed potatoes and gravy on the side. Yes, he could help by bringing over extra utensils or dessert, and Dave was welcome. Apparently, Jane had met him at church, while she and Dante still attended. They talked for a little longer, and everyone parted ways to return home. Jude took the time to look at everyone's expression, to take in their demeanor.
Manuela was strong. There was a sadness that lingered deep in her eyes, but she managed it by remaining open and friendly with others. Nothing could truly fix the void that her son’s death left, but she was coping well.
Jane was quiet. She was the type to reserve herself in a conversation to listen, unless she was the one with the most details. Her expression was a calm neutral, betrayed by the confusion still lingering in her eyes. She and her husband had been quite religious, before that announcement regarding the Alternates went out. Jude didn't doubt that they were both significantly shaken.
He could remember seeing the couple walk down the street with a young Mark and Sarah on their way to Sunday mass. He knew that Dante was reserved and disciplined, likely something his parents had taught him. Still, he had been nothing but loving and happy around his children. Dante hid the sorrow in his heart well, and Jude wondered how much the man had practiced such a thing. Plenty, if his speculation was correct.
Jude felt the cold wind rush against his face, remembering that he was still outside, standing in the dead middle of the sidewalk. His cheeks lit up pink out of embarrassment like they used to in high school. He sat down on a bench, contemplating silently. He needed to get home soon, or Dave would get worried. Admittedly, it was kind of nice to have someone worrying about him.
It was nice to have more than one person to rely on, too. With a half smile, Jude stood to continue walking. The group dinner was soon, and he didn't plan to be late. A strange giddiness spread in his chest as he jogged towards the house he shared with Dave. He didn't mind the two teenage boys that he passed along the way, who had been talking about.. dance recitals?
Strange, but he brushed it off as nothing. Just boys being boys. Jude arrived home in record time, receiving a warm greeting from Dave. They agreed to take the car. Manuela already lived with the Heathcliffs, it made it much easier to arrange gatherings.
Jude Murray felt better as he bantered and healed with the other parents of Mandela County. Distantly, ever so distinctly, he could feel Lynn smiling down at him from wherever she was. A warm wrapped around him, and he smiled a few stray tears fell. He couldn't hear her, but he knew. The message was simple, after all.
You’re safe, you’re okay now.
That was all he needed to know he was alright.