I practically raised Jade; the girl knew so little because she hid so much in her shell. I started to gently coax her out into the open until she outgrew it and left a trail of blazing confidence behind her. She bests everyone, even Tori, because even though the brunette is talented she needs to gain experience, which is why she gets so many roles and parts. Jade knows the reasoning behind her usurpation when in comes to Tori; so to remind everyone of her presence she often ends up pulling one of her dramatic stunts or pranks, sometimes blunt and to the point, other times so elaborate you have to wonder just how much time that she put into it. In my opinion, almost fact to me, Jade is the most talented out of every student here at Hollywood Arts. That I'm proud of. Because I helped her reach the point of confidence that she always wanted, but she's also gained so much from it on her own.

I don't know what she thinks of me anymore. Does she see me as nothing more than another face at Hollywood Arts, one with familiarity, but eroded meaninglessness all the same? Or does that hidden organ protected by her ribcage long for me to be at by her side again, as a faint whisper of something from her past if nothing else? Maybe it's even gone so far as just indifference. Could Jade simply scorn me? I've been retreating so deep into myself lately...raveling and unraveling old memories and producing fanciful ones; analyzing slowly before reshelving carefully as I would a delicate piece of art for later viewing. I'm sure everyone else has noticed; I spend so much time doing it there's no way they can refuse to acknowledge my seemingly blank stare and immobile body. I spend hours in the invisible process.

When I'm on stage, whether it be singing, dancing or acting, I come back to life. My gallery of precious memories is temporarily locked and put in the back of my mind and then I'm Cat again; I'm me. As if Jade hadn't ripped a piece out of me when she left me behind. The stage is my home; I'm safe, untouchable. Jade's untouchable wherever she goes; no one dares step in her way. I hardly make a comment unless spoken to, and well over half the time I deflect the inquiry with some random thought in the recesses of my mind, places that Jade somehow left untouched, or perhaps I created those places on my own; to hide my thoughts from everyone else.

And now she's telling me that she thought I wanted her this way. This confident, almost self-absorbed person that comes down harshly on the most innocent of people just for spite. My Jade wouldn't have done all this; shoved people to get her way, played cruel pranks or pulled stunts for revenge. My Jade wouldn't, but this one would and she has. She's clawed and spat at everyone. Everyone but me.

I didn't want you to be this, Jade.

I was - had been thinking that thought for so long and so often it simply slipped out with the source of all my obsessive fawning in front of me. The look on her face is peculiar; skin below her eyes turning red and puffy, looking as if she's breathed in some sort of poisonous gas that she can't expel before she bursts open with a sentence that makes only a certain amount of sense to me.

"I thought I was turning into someone for you to love."

At first I blink in confusion. This is definitely not the Jade I had imagined when I gently schooled the brunette girl. Maybe that was the problem. I thought I could make Jade so much like myself and with the environment she lived in - which greatly differed from mine at the time - the different factors twisted and warped what I coaxed out of the girl. My world was blissfully happy, hers laced with sharp words at a young age, bruises before bed and constant strain on her part.

I could have ended up just like her had we switched positions.

The thought is enough to snap my body back into action; I have to stretch quite a bit to take Jade's pale face in my hands. Her eyes...the ice melts before me and I see her there again. My Jade, but she's deathly confused, like a glorious creature not realizing that it's caught itself in a trap or confined behind glass.

"What did I do wrong this time, Kitty Cat?"

That sentence is so familiar to me it makes me smile. I can give you a full recount of each time she said that to me, though that would take too long. Sometimes she'd lay her head on my lap and say it, sometimes she'd be standing with her hands on her hips and so on. I touch my forehead to hers, tears in my eyes, but a smile on my face.

"You were just over thinking again, that's all."

Short and not really an ending, but yeah.