Disclaimer: I don't own any characters mentioned in this story, nor do I own Degrassi.
A/N: So, the idea behind this story kind of came up randomly. I was just kind of thinking one night at, like, midnight, and voila! I don't want to say too much about it, but it will be a multi-chapter, if you guys like it. Other than that, there's not much else to say but enjoy!
Prologue.
"Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again.
Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I am whole again."
Feet made small patters on the hallway's carpeted floor as she walked, slowly and steadily towards the door to the master bedroom of the house. She'd been wanting this all day, dreaming about it, the thought of being here clouding her mind completely. She walked past the slightly ajar bedroom door of the boy, peeking in quickly to make sure he was still asleep. She'd put him to sleep an hour ago, and he was known for being a light sleeper. There he laid, arms sprawled out in the twin bed, eyes closed as his small chest rose up and down in a rhythmic pattern. She smiled to herself, closing the door carefully before continuing to the door at the end of the hall.
One hand slipped to grasp the handle of the door, turning it cautiously, opening the door. She walked inside strategically; she'd been practicing, admittedly. She quietly closed the door behind herself, turning around to see the familiar king sized bed in the center of the room. As she drew closer and closer to the man still sleeping, a smile spread across her face. She was in love with him, so undeniably in love, and she couldn't help but feel her heart flutter as he mumbled something incoherent, pressing his brows together. She stood at his bedside, reaching over to stroke his cheek. His skin was so soft, with the exception of the usual stubble he'd have if he'd forgotten to shave that day. Her manicured fingers moved to brush the dark brown hair out of his face, playing with the strands that shone dully in the moonlit room. He was so peaceful, so still.
He was so beautiful.
Her hand trailed down to the crook of his neck, then to his shoulders, all the way to his hand worked beneath the navy blue covers of the bed. She took his hand in her own, interlacing their fingers, hoping that he wouldn't wake up. She'd done this before, came in while he was sleeping, sitting on the little satin couch by the window and watching his mannerisms. It was a new habit, taking initiative and feeling the soft texture of his skin on her palm. Of course, she'd nearly woken him up, but to see the smile on his face as her fingers, her own fingers, caressed his cheek, all of it was worth it, and she forgot why she was there in the first place.
Another murmur fell from his lips, this one sounding more and more like a sentence. She pressed her lips to a line, leaning down to bring her ear closer to his mouth. The sound of his steady breathing sent chills down her spine, her mind running wild, as it had on more than one occasion. "…leave…not her…all wrong…never…again..." he whispered, his grip on her hand tightening. She bit the inside of her cheek, realizing he was having one of his fits again. The only thing she could do was wait it out, tell him when he came downstairs for a glass of water and an aspirin that he'd just been having another nightmare. Because that's all it was, a nightmare. About her, and what she'd do; even though she'd been telling him for days now that everything was fine, everyone else subconsciously knew otherwise.
Carefully, she pried her hand away from his, backing away from the man she loved so much, her steps muffled by the carpeting on the floor. She needed to get away, before he woke up, before she woke up, before they all woke up and were screaming at her. As she walked to the door, a figure on the other side of the bed groaned, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She froze, heart stopping, body shutting down. The figure, masked by the shadow of the dark room, stood up, walking in the opposite direction towards the conjoined bathroom. The figure disappeared, and the other girl's heart began to slowly beat again. Holding her breath, she opened the door, and stepped out into the hallway, running down the passageway and continued down the stairs. She sighed, walking into the kitchen and taking her usual place at the small dining table, folding her hands and waiting. It seemed like that's the only thing she could do, wait.
Wait for the right time to claim him as her own. Wait for the right time to replace her.
Oh, yes, she'd been rejected. Quite brutally, at first. But over time she'd realized that she had the capability to control her surroundings, and that eventually, if she tried, he would be her's completely. Footsteps creaked on the wooden staircase beside the kitchen, a woman peering her head into the room. "Oh, it's just you," she laughed, running her hand through her hair. Her eyes scanned her expression, searching for anything out of the ordinary; this, this woman, was the figure from before. The one she loathed more than anyone else. This woman, the figure, was her. And the two women were alone together, staring each other down in the middle of a kitchen, notably filled with sharp objects like knives and forks. Plastering a smile on her face, she stood, walking towards the cherry wood and granite island in the middle of the room. Shrugging, she cocked her head to the side, trying to create a diversion so that the other woman, the figure, didn't know what she was doing.
"Just little old me, nothing to worry about," she cooed, one hand moving to slide out one of the drawers. Her hand moved inside, fingers gliding over the different appliances until she finally felt something sharp; a knife. Perfect. "Because, obviously I'm no threat whatsoever to you, and your precious husband," she mused, words laced with malice. The figure, the other woman, raised an eyebrow, placing her hands on her hips. "That's a little bit…random," she replied, taking an unwilling step closer to her.
She laughed, sliding the knife out of it's cradle, and into the sleeve of her jacket, the blade concealed within the black leather. Closing the drawer, she walked around the front of the island, closer to the figure. "Do you know what's random?" she asked softly, innocently, eyes begging her for something unknown through her lashes. The other woman bit her lip, shaking her head no. Slowly, she slipped the knife into her hand, the wooden handle fitting almost perfectly in her palm. A smirk crept upon her lips, and her eyes narrowed at the figure. She sneered, "How you ended up with him."
The figure, the other woman, opened her mouth to retort, but was cut short as the cool blade of a knife caught her eye. Her mouth snapped shut, her hands beginning to shake. "W-what are you doing?" she asked in a hushed tone, eyes never leaving the metallic glint of the blade. The smirk remained on her face, unmoving as she lifted the knife, examining it with her own eyes. "What do you think?" she asked calmly, face becoming stoic, unemotional.
She'd put up a mask, again.
She was trying to push all of her regretful thoughts away, again.
She needed to end this now.
Eyes flickered to the figure, her grip tightening on the handle. "I'll skip the guessing game, and just get to the point, and tell you," she said, watching the facial expressions of the other woman change by the second. A wicked grin replaced her stone-faced mask, and she walked around behind the other woman. Brushing her hair behind her ear, she leaned in, lips inches from the side of her face. "Or maybe I could show you," she whispered.
The blade of the knife met the figure's aorta, puncturing the artery. Blood seeped through the white fabric of her nightgown as she pulled the knife out of her porcelain skin. She watched as her chest heaved, breathing becoming staggered, and the figure fell to the floor. She looked on with an inflamed sense of pride as her eyes blinked rapidly, as she began to choke on the air around her, and as her eyes finally closed, hands falling into the pool of her own blood. She bent down, slipping the knife between the figure's fingers, and walked into the kitchen, turning on the sink to rinse the blood from her hands. Walking towards the front door, she made sure to look behind her as she left, smiling as she realized the chances of getting her way were rising.
She was closer, much closer, and it felt pretty damn good.
A/N #2: Well, I hope you enjoyed it.
Reviews are much appreciated.