Based on and containing the song “I Survived You” as performed by Clay Aiken

He flipped off the television, an uneasy feeling gnawing at him as he sat in the silence.

Green eyes shifted restlessly around the room, narrowing as they landed on reminder after reminder of her.

Photographs.

Books and magazines.

The wooden carving on the mantle.

Even the blanket lying on the back of the couch had been hers.

It’d been ten months.

He’d finally moved on.

So why were there still traces of her all around him?

Logic told him that he’d been touring, that he was hardly ever in his own home to begin with, so it was understandable.

But there was still that nagging feeling that he was hanging on to something, even after all this time.

He stood and left the room, his brow furrowing as he walked down the hallway, his eyes moving over objects and images.

She was all over the house.

By the time he’d reached his bedroom, his fists were clenched, anger darkening his eyes.

How had he allowed himself to stay so weak, to hold himself back in this major way?

He shook his head, reaching out to grab a sweater that was hanging in the closet.

Like too many other things, it was hers.

He twisted the fabric in his hands as if he could wring her presence out of it.

Frowning, he turned in a circle, his gaze picking out the various objects that cluttered his most personal of space.

It had to go.

All of it.

It was past time for some redecorating.

I see the picture clearer now, the fog has lifted
The wool you tried to pull over
My eyes was clever, yeah, you’re gifted
But you forgot to dot some I’s
And cross some T’s along the way
I’m better now despite you, baby
I’m stronger these days
Stronger

He was stronger.

He knew it.

Now it was time to prove it to himself.

He got busy, removing pictures from frames, pulling clothing from the dresser and closet.

Each piece was tossed on the bed, creating a pile of memories past.

He moved in a frenzy, desperate to rid himself of everything that could be traced back to her.

Finally, there didn’t seem to be anything left to reach for.

There was nothing else that didn’t belong.

He looked around one last time, nodding in satisfaction when he saw only himself in the room.

She’d been eradicated, reduced to a pile of objects in the middle of his red comforter.

A year’s worth of accumulated … things.

His eyes landed on a photo of the two of them, all smiles, her clinging to his arm.

And he wondered if he should have known then that things would turn out for the worst.

Lisa Standridge had been the embodiment of everything he’d been cautioned about when they’d started the group.

The guys had warned him repeatedly, telling him to be careful around her.

But he’d shrugged it off, ignored them, blinded by her innocent smiles.

He’d given her the benefit of the doubt, his mind clouded by the very idea that he could have her.

The minute she’d given him that flirtatious smile, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder and moving closer to him … he’d been a goner.

Her beautifully tanned skin and model good looks had blown his mind.

Her brown eyes, sexy as all get-out, had drawn him in, giving him the illusions of need and trust.

Her confidence, her attitude, her charm … even her mild conceit had grabbed his attention and refused to let go.

She’d known exactly what would attract him, which buttons to push to get to him.

Her act had been perfect.

And he’d fallen for it.  Hook, line and sinker.

His eyes moved over the pile again and he sighed, his fingers running roughly through his hair.

So much stuff.  So much baggage.

This time last year, he’d been perfectly happy to wrap himself up in the memories it all represented, to lose himself in her.

He’d loved her, given her everything she’d asked for and more.

All the while, she’d been after the next hot topic, looking for bigger fish to fry.

The last few weeks of their relationship – if it could be called that – had been draining, the fights taking up more time than he should have allowed.

He’d fought for the illusion of happiness that they’d created.

But then reality had finally settled in, the tinted glasses he’d been seeing her through flying away.

And everything had come crashing down around him.

She’d sold him out, filling the tabloids with the fabrication of a nightmare relationship, making herself out to be the innocent in the whole mess.

Her story had spawned headlines in major papers, respectable reporters actually buying into the hype, allowing her to milk it for all it was worth.

His image had taken a beating, his career hanging in the balance as she paraded around, doing interview after interview, painting him out to be a total monster.

The fans – the legions of people who had so readily declared undying love and dedication when things had gone well – had been taken aback by the reports, wary of showing him the support that he so desperately needed.

While he’d been trying to clear up the media frenzy and deal with all the lies, she’d been walking around on the arm of one movie star or another, that fake brave smile pasted on for the cameras.

Then evidence that she wasn’t all that she was portraying herself to be had surfaced.

They’d hit him with the pictures in the middle of an interview, leaving him speechless on national television.

Even though he’d had an idea of what she’d been doing behind his back, seeing the proof that she’d been cheating had shocked him.

But those photos also turned the tide, creating a surge of support all around him.

He’d already had his family, friends and the label behind him, but the surge of support from the fans . . . that boost had been vital.

He shook his head, remembering how she’d been trashed in the newspapers, on television, on the internet.

But, in all honesty . . . she’d brought it upon herself.

She’d made her own bed.

And he’d been perfectly content to let her lie in it.

Stepping forward, he lifted the mess from the comforter into his arms, turning to head down the hallway and toward the kitchen.

I can look in the mirror now
It’s been a slow awakening
Haunted by a heart full of you
Couldn’t help mistaking
That you could ever care for anyone
Anyone but yourself
But you would have to have a conscience, baby
Good luck, I wish you well

A flash caught his eye and he turned, catching the image of himself in the mirror.

He studied the glass, taking note of the changes that had occurred over the last several months.

The worry lines across his forehead, once deep with stress, had smoothed out, taking on a gentler appearance.

His shoulders were no longer slumped, but were squared and straight, exuding an air of strength and surety.

The dark circles were gone from underneath his eyes, the sleepless nights having finally faded into the past, and the brilliance had come back into the green depths, the anguish and anger having drained away.

His face had lost its gaunt appearance, his cheeks having rounded out as his appetite had returned.

But the biggest change, the best part of it all, was something that couldn’t be reflected in that pane of glass.

His heart had healed.

It’d been a slow process, but it had finally happened.

He was whole again, the tender areas of his heart strengthened, better prepared for the next round of hurting, should it ever come.

Turning away from his reflection, he made his way through the kitchen and out onto the unfinished patio in the backyard, dropping the pile of reminders to the cement.

He stood there, staring, for only a moment before going back into the house, determinedly working from one room to the next, purging everything that even vaguely reminded him of her.

Trip after trip, the pile grew, expanding over the gray concrete.

Perfume and soaps from the bathroom.

The blanket from the living room.

Pictures from the hallway.

Clothing and jewelry that she’d left behind.

Knick knacks from all over the house.

Once he was satisfied that he’d gotten everything, he stood over the mess again, his mind racing as he thought of everything this pile of her things represented.

The hurt.

The cheating.

The lies.

All of those things, lying here at his feet.

He thought back, remembering a time when he’d prayed for the possibility that she could return the love he was showing her.

Now he knew that she simply wasn’t capable of it.

She’d never been able to love him.

That power just hadn’t been in her.

He’d paid an expensive price to learn that lesson.

And, from what he knew of her, she probably hadn’t learned a thing from it.

She’d simply moved on to pull her games on someone else.

But that was her life.

Something he didn’t have a part in any longer.

And he was man enough to not wish her any ill will.

I survived the crash, survived the burn
Survived the worst, yeah baby
But I learned
Survived the lies, survived the blues
It almost killed me but I survived the truth
And when you wrote me off like I was doomed
I survived you

He closed his eyes, exhaling deeply, releasing any bit of lingering hurt or anger that may have stuck around.

She’d dragged him through the mud, spit in his face and left him to crash and burn.

But he’d survived. And he was going to keep right on surviving.

It’d been hard at first, his heart having taken a beating, his sense of self ripped to shreds.

His guard had come up, the walls he’d erected around himself almost impossible to penetrate.

Caution had been his first and main concern.

A dark pit of bitterness had surrounded him, making him cynical to the world.

But that had only lasted for a little while.

He’d stepped back, nursed his wounds.

Somehow, he’d recovered completely.

This heart has been torn in two
Cut and bruised with too many bitter endings
I’ll be damned if I’ll have thoughts of you
Rain on my new beginning

He crossed his arms as he stood over the mess, then turned and went back into the house.

Leaning against the counter, his gaze landed on the photo stuck to the refrigerator.

His eyes moved over the image, taking in the brown hair and blue eyes, her smile warming him from the inside out.

Claire.

The very thought of her was enough to lift his spirits.

Then his eyes moved back to the mess outside.

Yes, he’d recovered.

Now he was more than ready to move on, to make definite strides on the road of life.

He had a bright future ahead, had a beautiful, wonderful woman waiting patiently for him to make the first move.

And he was going to take full advantage of it.

Without all the baggage.

He crossed the room, stepping into the garage, looking around for the familiar container.

Finally spotting it in the corner, he grabbed it up and walked back through the kitchen, taking something out of a drawer on his way by.

He stopped in front of the mess once again, lifting the container up and pouring out its contents.

The liquid splashed over the pile, soaking everything as the container emptied.

Once he was satisfied, he tossed the container aside.

He allowed himself to look over the reminders one last time.

Then he struck the match and dropped it, setting the pile ablaze.

The gasoline ignited quickly, creating a bonfire of sorts in his backyard.

He stepped back, a grin forming on his face as he watched the smoke rise into the sky.

All those months ago, he’d been burned.

Now, each and every memory he had of her was going up in flames.

As the heat of the fire washed over him, he felt as though he’d been handed a clean slate.

A new beginning was his for the taking.

The sound of Claire’s laugh echoed through his mind, causing his grin to widen.

As the past literally went up in smoke before him, he nodded knowingly.

He could live again.

And he was starting right now.