Author's note: Hiya. If you're reading this, then thankyou very much for clicking the little link that lead to my humble story. Molte grazie!

So anyway, this is a post-ep for 05x14, Tomb, the one where Chloe sees a dead girl, and ends up possessed. I know it's an old episode, but I've had this sitting on my hard drive for a while now and only just dug it up. Here it is, for your personal viewing pleasure. It deals with the repercussions of a very intense episode – really, that was serious stuff! I thought Chloe could use a little more than 5 seconds to deal with it all, which is so often the only time they're given on Smallville to handle intense emotional situations.

Think of it as a literary kindness. Enjoy. Please review. I love it when you do, very much… possibly too much…

Disclaimer: No, it's not mine. What wouldn't I do if I had ownage of Clark Kent…

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Dead Girl, Walking

From the moment Chloe switched off the lights and climbed into the familiar bed of the dorm room she shared with Lana, she was infinitely thankful for the absence of hard restraints. The room was a bit small, perhaps, and the décor a little too bright and mismatched in an 'I'm a poor college student' sort of way, but what did she care? It was hers, and it wasn't the psych ward. That was all that mattered.

She heaved an almighty sigh, and pulled the covers up to her chest. She wasn't tired. Not really. Sleep was way overrated, in her books. And after all, she reasoned as if it explained everything, she was Chloe Sullivan. If there were a Caffeine-holics Anonymous, she would be their worst offender. And, if it had been up to her, (which it wasn't, by the way,) she would have been pulling an all-nighter at the Daily Planet, updating her Digital Wall of Weird or doing some good, solid web-based research. Something along the lines of spectres from the other side possessing the living via meteor rock. Her fingers were itching for the touch of a mouse, the soft glow of a desk lamp and a warm cup of coffee. In fact, Chloe wouldn't have been at all surprised if at any given moment her eye would started to twitch, and the pangs of withdrawal would slowly set in. But the fact that she was, at this very moment, lying in bed – and at a relatively reasonable hour, too – was testament to her new and improved sleep regime. Which included, amongst other things, sleep.

And boy, was it going to take some getting used to.

It was all her cousin's doing. Well, that and her deceptively innocent roommate, but somehow Lois was easier to blame for things.

In the end, Chloe suspected with her well-honed investigative instinct, that it was Lana who had invited Lois around to their dorm that afternoon. Whereupon General Lane's eldest daughter had proceeded to threaten that if Chloe didn't take good care of herself, she would have to come and do it for her. Every moment, of every hour, of every single day, until the day she died.

How could you argue with that?

That in itself was plenty enough to make Chloe promise to do almost anything short of taking to her beloved computer with a pickaxe.

It didn't seem to make any difference saying she felt fine. Chloe knew from a lifetime's worth of experience that there was no point arguing with Lois Lane, unless you were stupid, or you had a deathwish, or both. And, as much as she loved her cousin, there was only so much looking after Chloe could handle until she'd start to feel she really was going crazy…

So, with a begrudging vow that she would take a hot shower, have a decaf coffee (thus rendering her favourite beverage entirely obsolete) and get herself a good night's sleep, Lois had finally gone back to Smallville – the one other place in the world where no one ever seemed to knock before entering, ever.

Was personal privacy really so much to ask? Even in Metropolis, where whatever happened behind closed doors should stay behind closed doors… because after Lois, the visitors had just kept on coming. Even Lana couldn't explain it, much to Chloe's disdain.

First there was Lex Luthor. After sparing a long and lingering stare for her roommate that really seemed rather juicy, he'd turned to her with his most calculating gaze. Typical Lex, try and psychologically persuade her that he could read her thoughts, straight off the mark. The good thing (or not so good thing) was that she was very experienced in the area of Luthor intimidation, and she was determined not to let it work on her anymore.

'You really shouldn't have come all the way out to Metropolis, Lex. I'm not about to press charges for being forcibly held in a medical facility against my will. I hope you know that.'

Topped off with a signature wry smile, who could beat that?

'I'm only concerned about your wellbeing, Chloe,' Lex had replied, slipping his hands nonchalantly into the pockets of his very expensive pants.

'I hope you know that,' He'd added with a wry smile to rival even hers, stealing her own words straight from her mouth to give his that extra potency.

Chloe could feel the heat from his gaze penetrating her own, trying hard to get inside her mind, and catch her even slightly off balance.

It was almost working.

Chloe had found it nothing short of torture to bite back the sharp response on her lips that said 'Sure, because probing my mind in Belle Reve had nothing to do with your personal interests, Lex,' because somehow she knew that if she even so much as went there… she'd say something that she'd regret later. Or that Clark could never forgive her for.

And she wasn't about to do that, not in a million light-years.

He'd let his smile drop, clear blue eyes staring intensely into hers. Down to business, was the thought that crossed her mind as she met his gaze defiantly, eyes locked with his in a silent battle for supremacy.

'How did you escape from the Psych ward?'

It was the question she'd been dreading.

'Because if someone else had anything to do with it,' he continued, 'then I should know. Just so I can assure the baffled doctors at the hospital that their patient didn't actually disappear into thin air. They're very concerned about you, Chloe. As am I.'

'I don't see why you, or they, should be,' Chloe had said, never once faltering in her gaze. 'I'm fine.'

Lex's lips had curled. He'd looked so nonchalant, so dryly amused by these verbal antics, that only a handful of people could have ever guessed how deadly serious he was really taking this.

'Somehow I had a feeling that would be the case.'

Chloe had smirked. Of course. What more should she have expected?

'And if you're so interested,' she began, 'in the way I slipped my wrists out of the hard restraints, hid behind the door and then escaped through it when the orderly came around with dinner, then why didn't you just check the video surveillance tapes?'

The smile had spread a little further across his lips. Liar, his eyes were saying.

'Oh, but that's just what baffled the doctors, Chloe. They couldn't seem to understand how every perfectly functioning security camera within a ten-foot radius of your room apparently stopped working within .05 seconds of one another. Can you explain that?'

Chloe's eyes widened, and she would have smiled in spite of herself – it looked like Clark had a lot to answer for. Instead she just shrugged and raised her eyebrows.

'Just lucky, I guess.'

Lex gave a short, sharp laugh.

'You must be one of the luckiest people I know.'

Next to Clark Kent, thought Chloe dryly.

A movement. A single tilt of the head was all he gave, but it said so much. I know who it was, his eyes told her, burning a hole through her own. I know who did it. I know who rescued you.

'The best Psychiatrists in the world. They're yours, if you want them. Just say the word.'

Chloe took a deep breath. There was only one word she wanted to say to Lex, and it most definitely wasn't yes.

'Thanks, Lex, but… no thanks. I'm fine.'

'Of course.'

A fleeting smile had flickered across his lips, and with one, last intense gaze, he'd searched her face, as if trying to find a crack in the surface of the mask she was wearing. Chloe had stood there, defiant till the very end, desperate to win… then finally he'd nodded his goodbye to Lana, and retreated through the open doorway, passing with a smile the poor, blonde, bewildered girl in the hallway who couldn't seem to comprehend why the richest man in Kansas had just exited Chloe Sullivan and Lana Lang's dorm room. They must have been so much better connected down in Smallville then she'd ever imagined…

The well wishes had just kept on coming. Lionel Luthor had sent an e-mail. A short note that she couldn't help but feel more than a little creeped out by, especially when it said 'I heard that you weren't feeling too well, Miss Sullivan. I understand the pressures of having much expected of you…' Chloe wasn't sure just how well he did understand, but one thing was for sure, nothing ever got past the Luthor collective conscience. Especially not when Chloe Sullivan's grip on reality went AWOL. She'd decided not to reply.

Her Father had sent flowers, when he'd heard she wasn't feeling so hot. Beautiful pink and white clusters, that filled the room with a soft, rosy scent. They were pretty, and it was sweet that he wanted to do the loving father thing when he knew she didn't have a boyfriend to do it for her… Sweet, but not really all that helpful. A lot like him in general, really. As Chloe breathed in the fresh fragrance, she wondered if she'd ever have the heart to tell her Dad what had really happened to his only daughter. Could she tell him, after what he'd been through with her mother, that his little girl had finally cracked and started seeing things that no one else could see?

Could she tell him that after all these years, she'd finally gone to see her?

The only other person who knew she'd been to see her mother that morning was Clark. And he was the only one who hadn't dropped by to visit yet.

In a strange way she was glad, but then again… not.

Chloe closed her eyes, sinking her head back into the cavernous pillow. The memories of that morning were still freshly engraved in her mind. Just like the scars on her wrists, which she supposed would be there for a while yet. They were like horrible souvenirs she'd woken up with, and been too drunk to even remember buying.

At least she'd been spared that much.

She'd stayed with her mother that morning right up until visiting hours had ended. That was the longest time she'd spent with her since... well, since when she was a little girl. And even those memories were tainted, fraught with fragmented recollections of standing on itchy carpet and holding her breath, peeking through half-closed doors to see her mother lying motionless on the bed, sobbing uncontrollably, or sitting by a window in heavy silence.

She'd never imagined, when her mother had gone, that the next time she would see her would be in the sanitised environment of a Mental Institution, and that they would both be adults. And that for the first time in far too long, her mother would hold her tight, as she, the daughter, began to cry. Everything she'd tried to put away after her Mom had left. Every childhood fear, every painful memory of loneliness, every time she'd ever felt even slightly less than enough, poured out in the tears she discovered she hadn't really cried until now…

Chloe squinted through the darkness at the glowing red digits on her alarm clock. It was getting late. Even Lana had long since abandoned her books and was now sleeping peacefully across the room. Chloe listened to the even rise and fall of her roommate's breathing. Not for the first time in her life, she wondered what it would be like to be Lana Lang. To be beautiful, to be desired, and to know that despite the fact your parents were both gone, you could still be sure they were always watching over you, in a cheesy, sentimental sort of way… and that the memories you had of them would remain of wonderful, loving people, safe in your mind forever.

Because the thing that had scared her most for so many of those awkward, teenage years, was that she'd gone to bed at night frightened to think that if her mom had loved her just a little bit more, then maybe she would have stayed.

Chloe closed her eyes and sighed, breathing in the flowers' perfumed scent. She was determined that tonight would not be one of those nights. She would not wallow in despair. Especially not now that she was a big girl, who had been running her life perfectly fine up till now, and who had no need whatsoever of parents, or of rich benefactors, or of psychiatrists, or of teddy bears with chewed off ears, or of purple mushroom nightlights, like the kind she used to have when she was five years old, when she believed that a purple light and a pair of warm, loving arms could make any problem go away…

Chloe's eyes snapped wide open. Whoa, that's just too far. She gave herself a sharp mental kick. Purple mushroom nightlights? Please. Now is so not the time to revert to my childhood.

All the same, 20 seconds later, a pale hand snaked its way gingerly across to the nightstand. After a pause and a small 'click', the room was bathed in a soft, yellow lamplight.

Hey, it wasn't purple, but it was warm.

Chloe sighed again, and reluctantly sat up in bed. There wasn't much use in trying to combat insomnia when you practically thrived on sleep depravation and coffee. It was just a way of life. The more pressing problem, however, was this: how to keep herself occupied throughout her unofficial restraining order from the outside world, short of banging her head repeatedly against a brick wall…

Chloe paused. Her eyes scanned the room around her, just to check that each shadow was exactly as she remembered it. It was silly, really… but just the same. Couldn't be too careful. Then she slumped against the pillows, breathing out heavily through pursed lips. What to do, what to do? She couldn't sleep now, her mind was too active. She supposed she could try and count sheep, but then again she'd always found the mental image of little woollen creatures jumping fence posts in ordered succession late at night just a little creepy…

No, what she needed was something to do that was so boring, she'd be snoring just by the mere thought of it.

And suddenly, the perfect solution presented itself, sitting idly on her nightstand. A red, leather-bound folder, reflecting slightly the warm glow of the lamplight – begging her to just pick it up and read.

Chloe managed an appreciative smile, recognising it immediately. She now remembered her cousin placing it down hurriedly before leaving. Good old Lo'… She never threatened the people she cared about without first giving them a ­little help.

Chloe picked it up and opened it on her lap. It was perfect in all its plainness. Dull, mind numbing, repetitive… enough to make a grown man cry, and then some. It was something even Lois approached with fear and trepidation…

It was the Talon inventory. In hard copy.

Inside the leather-bound cover was a small note, scribbled hastily in Lois' energetic handwriting.

'Hey cuz –

You know how much I hate small numbers. If you're going to be cooped up tonight, you could at least take your mind off things by doing me a favour.

Love Lois.'

Chloe couldn't help the wry smile on her lips.

'Any time, Lois,' she muttered under her breath. Then settling herself down with a pen and calculator handy, Chloe started perusing the column marked expenses.

Her sharp, analytical mind thrived on logic, and the endless rows of small numbers didn't scare her one bit. It was the perfect thing to keep her thoughts off one hell of a day.

Just as she was trying to work out how Lois had added 45 and 178 together and gotten less than what she'd started with, a small envelope slipped from between the pockmarked pages and landed softly in her lap. Chloe frowned.

'Weird,' she murmured, as she picked it up and read the handwriting on the front. 'That's too neat to be Lois.'

She ran a slightly chewed nail – a very bad habit of Gretchen's she was glad she didn't have to endure anymore – beneath the seal, breaking it softly. Out of the envelope, she lifted a small, perfectly square card with mauve coloured flowers splashed across the front.

'Interesting,' she murmured to herself. 'Purple…'

She thumbed it open, and her eyes fell upon the few short sentences written inside in beautiful cursive.

'Dear Chloe,

'I hope you're taking good care of yourself.'

Chloe paused for a moment to think out loud, 'Depends on your definition of good care.' Momentarily, the image of a tall, steaming latte floated through her mind. She shook it off as fast as it had come, and continued reading.

'Please consider this card an opportunity for me to say how I've always admired your integrity and commitment, ever since the day you first came home for dinner. Whether it's bringing people the truth, or just seeing someone for who they really are… it's a gift, Chloe, more than you might realise.'

Chloe took a deep breath. A strange lump was forming in her throat.

'I understand some secrets are harder to keep than others.

'Please know that if you ever feel the need to talk, I'm here.

'Love always,

Martha Kent.'

Chloe slowly lowered her hands into her lap, staring blankly at the wall ahead.

Why? Something in the back of her mind told her that she shouldn't be feeling this way. That her stomach shouldn't be all churned up on the inside at the mere thought of this motherly kindness from someone who wasn't her mom. That she shouldn't be so worked up about something that she'd always seemed to manage without. But Chloe barely registered her own movements, as her fingers deftly closed around the card and slotted it back into the leather-bound book, closing it shut with a soft rustle of pages.

Chloe hardly noticed when her fingers moved to switch the lamp off, filling the room with darkness once again. She didn't even realise that she was slowly sinking down, curling herself into a ball, with the inventory hugged tightly to her chest. She didn't feel the metal-capped corners digging into her arms through her pyjama sleeves.

The first thing she felt was her lips, giving way to the tiniest of tremors, as she buried her face into her bedsheets. Then Chloe felt, rather than heard the smallest of sobs escape her tightly drawn lips… and then another, and another, until she found she couldn't stop, her chest heaving with the effort of each shuddering breath, crying herself to sleep in between the peaceful, even breathing of her roommate.

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The next thing Chloe heard was the distant sound of heavy, falling rain and the far away growling of thunder.

All around her was a blur. Dark colours and figures loomed in the edges of her vision, burlesque shapes that seemed to sway and tease her, staying just out of reach.

Slowly, gradually, Chloe managed to open her eyes. At first, everything was bright and seemed to be made of light… it made her dizzy, and she couldn't seem to tell which way was up, and which way was down. Then gradually, the lights swam into focus around her. Fanciful designs and fairy lights danced in the corners of her eyes, and dark colours and shadows loomed all around her, illuminated by the eerie flickering of candlelight.

It was night, and she was alone, in the apartment above the Talon.

Gingerly, she sat herself up. Soft sheets pooled around her waist, and for a moment, Chloe felt like she was swimming in a deep, peaceful pool of soft, silky blue… part of her wanted to lie back down and stay there forever, lost in the endless peace… but somehow, in the back of her mind, was the constant, irritating feeling that she had to get up.

With all the effort that she could muster, she grudgingly flung the sheets to one side, and swung her feet over the edge of the bed.

Immediately, the floor felt cold to her bare feet. Cold and hard, as if the pool she'd been swimming in had suddenly turned to a lake of frozen ice. Somewhere in the distance loomed the fear that at any moment, a cold hand might shoot out from underneath the bed and latch onto her ankle, pulling her with it into the shadows, while all she could do was scream…

Chloe shivered, and hurriedly jumped up from the bed, quickly putting distance between herself and her fear.

For the first time, Chloe realised that she was dressed in a stiff white gown, standard hospital issue. It felt as if it had just been ironed, pressed and starched, all in quick succession, and it was rough against her soft skin. She didn't like the feeling. Hard, and sanitary. Too clean. Mint green scrubs covered her legs, and she felt the vague notion of being very thankful she had pants on… and when she looked at her at her hands, stretching them out in her field of vision, they were pale and… perfect. She turned her arms over. Her wrists were clear. Smooth and pale, no imperfections or scars running across the pulsing veins. She ran her fingers over the smooth, pale skin, marvelling at how supple the unblemished flesh felt to her touch.

Crash.

Chloe's heart skipped a beat. The sound of hard, metallic surfaces clanging against each other snatched her away from her upturned wrists, and locked her frightened gaze on the bathroom door. Inquisitive green eyes widened. Her heart pounded in her chest, beating a hundred miles a minute. Slowly, ever so slowly, she began to edge her way towards the door. Better judgement told her she should run away. Better judgement told her that unless she was as indestructible as Clark Kent, she should high tail it out of there. But Clark wasn't there, and since when had she listened to good judgement? Her most base, primitive compulsion to know the truth drew Chloe instinctively to the sound – like a moth to the flame.

She couldn't back away. No matter how scared she might have been.

'Lois?' She called out, edging gradually forward. Her voice echoed and bounced backwards, haunting her fifty times over.

'Lois?' Chloe called again, listening for an answer.

Another loud crash sounded behind the bathroom door, and Chloe almost jumped out of her skin. She gathered herself, and continued searching her mind for the answer.

'Lana?'

No reply. She was running out of names to call. More smashing, and the sound of soft, muffled whimpers.

'H… Hello?'

Chloe felt the fear rising in her gut. Her first impulse was to call out the name of the person she knew could save her from anything.

'Clark?'

Even though every part of her mind screamed at her to stop, Chloe couldn't. Her heart told her to keep going. Her legs inched forward on the cold floor, and the smashing sounds grew louder as she neared the door.

This was it. It was now or never.

She was barely a foot away. Chloe reached out a shaking hand towards the door. In one single, decisive moment, she whipped her hand forward, closed her fingers around the doorknob, and turned.

Instantly, the noises stopped.

Silence hung, thick as water, in the air.

Chloe took a deep breath. Everything was still, and she could practically feel the hair at the back of her neck standing on edge. Slowly, very slowly, she edged the bathroom door open, with an almighty creak.

Chloe peered around, wide-eyed.

Darkness.

'Hello?' Chloe called into the empty shadows. 'Hello? Anyone there?'

Chloe stepped inside the bathroom. So far, so good. It was probably nothing more than her imagination playing tricks on her. No one was here.

Chloe had barely gone more than a few feet, when she felt her toes slip into something warm and sticky.

Chloe stopped short, suddenly feeling strangely dizzy. She looked down, and what she saw made her stomach lurch.

On the bathroom floor, were footprints, glimmering blood red in the flickering candlelight.

Chloe began to breath heavily, eyes widening. She strained to look away, but she couldn't. The dancing light entranced her, as it glimmered across the blood-smeared floor. Her eyes remained fixated in horror on the crimson stains, watching them as they faded into the shadows – and before she could even think what she was doing, she was following them. She was tracking them feverishly. Her only thoughts had become for whoever had left them behind.

'So much blood, it's everywhere…' she muttered to herself, 'I can see it all, everywhere… so much…'

'I'm coming!' Chloe called out, her voice frantic. 'I'm coming, don't worry! I'm coming to help you!'

The shadows pressed in around her from all sides, but she fought them back. She had to press onwards. She had to find the person who had made the footprints. She had to find them, had to help them. Everything was getting so dark… so dark she could barely see. Tears of frustration gathered her eyes, and she tried to sweep away the shadows with her hands, but instead she fell face first, landing with her hands in the sticky, red mess of the bloody footprints.

Chloe sat up feverishly, gazing in horror at her hands in the candlelight. So much blood, it was everywhere. She had to get it off. She shook her hands violently, but it didn't work. It was still everywhere. She tried rubbing them on the floor, but if wouldn't come off. Her breath came in short, sharp rasps as she desperately tried wiping them on her pure, white gown, but that only made it worse – tears of frustration leaked down her cheeks, as each furtive wipe only made her more and more dirty, more and more stained. It was no use. He hands and feet were streaked red, and her pure white gown was soaked with crimson blood.

A clash sounded suddenly through the darkness, and fear and panic rose in Chloe's chest.

'I'm here!' Chloe cried as spun about on her hands and knees, searching frantically in every direction. 'I'm here, where are you!'

Silence.

'Tell me where you are!' Chloe screamed into the endless shadows. 'Please!'

'Please,' She begged softly, as her voice broke into a sob, and she hugged her knees to herself, crying softly in the darkness.

'Please… tell me I'm not alone…'

She so felt alone. More alone than she had ever felt in her entire life. She hugged herself even tighter and shivered at the thought that no one could hear her cry…

And then suddenly, without warning, a voice whispered quietly in her – breathing softly, as cold against her skin as the hard, bare floor.

'I'm here, Chloe.'

Chloe froze. Her breath caught in her throat.

'Look in the mirror, Chloe.'

Chloe twisted around. Hanging behind her was a mirror, flickering in the candlelight. She hadn't seen it before. Mesmerised by the way the light reflected from the glistening surface, and by the cold, haunting voice in her ear, Chloe got onto her hands and knees and crawled, edging closer and closer to the dancing surface. Her breath came in short, sharp sobs.

'Look into the mirror,' repeated the voice. Hypnotised by its power, drawn towards the promise that she was not alone… Chloe obeyed. She crawled towards the mirror, reaching out a bloodied hand as she moved closer and closer.

'I'm here.'

Chloe stopped. Heart pounding in her chest, she lifted her gaze, and stared into the mirror's watery depths.

Pale, tear-streaked skin, tangled blonde hair and fearful green eyes stared forlornly back at her.

'That's me,' Chloe whispered softly underneath her breath.

It seemed that no matter how softly she spoke, the voice in the shadows could hear her.

'Look again, Chloe.'

Chloe shut her eyes.

'No.'

'Chloe…' The voice was coaxing, powerful. 'Look again.'

There was nothing else she could do. Chloe opened her eyes.

Her scream tore through the silence.

Staring back at her from within the mirror's depths was a desperate, sunken, pallid face. Pleading eyes widened in horror. Hollow cheeks caved in on themselves, white hands reached up to feel them, to claw at them in despair, and darkened lips opened wide in a shriek of terror, although Chloe felt the sound come from her own lungs…

Staring back at her was Gretchen.

Chloe threw herself backwards, falling onto the hard ground in her hurry to get away. She shuffled along the ground on her back, grasping at her face and hair, shielding her eyes from the mirror, trying desperately to erase the cold image of Gretchen from her mind.

It was no use. Gretchen was everywhere… she was behind her, in front of her, screaming inside of her. Chloe whimpered, as the voice whispered softly once again in her ear.

'I am you.'

Chloe shook her head feverishly, shielding her face with her arms. 'No. No!'

'You are me.'

'No!' Chloe cried, feeling the word come from every fibre of her being.

'Together… we are alone.'

'NO!' Chloe screamed. She couldn't stand it anymore. In a fit of rage, she leapt up, grabbed the mirror between her bloodstained palms, brought it high over her head and hurled it against the ground with all her might.

The sound of the mirror shattering was the most terrible, painful sound Chloe had ever heard in her life. It was like a thousand screams, each fragment of the shattered mirror resonating in the darkness and attacking her, pounding in her head. Every lost soul that had ever lived and cried out in agony… all resounded in her ears, pounding inside her mind. Chloe pressed her hands to her temples, trying to block out the terrible cacophony of sound, but it was too much. She bent over double with the pain.

Then as soon as it had started, it was over. In an instant, all was once again quiet. Chloe lay, surrounded by silence, encircled by the dancing glow of a thousand candles. She gazed around in confusion. The mirror was gone. The screaming was gone. She slowly lowered her hands from her ears as she realised she was once again in the bathroom of the Talon. Slowly, she placed her hands on the floor and lifted herself onto shaking feet.

What was going to happen to her now? She glanced around at the teasing flames, every trace of her bravery gone. She had never felt so alone in her life. There was no one to save her, no one or nothing that could possibly rescue her from whatever cruel happening fate had planned for her.

Or was there?

'Please, help me!' Whispered a voice, soft and pleading in the darkness.

Chloe whirled around.

Standing before her was Gretchen, holding out her wrists. Translucent tears fell down her ashen cheeks, and deep crimson gashes streaked across her pale forearms.

Chloe looked at her own pale, smooth skin, and shuddered.

'Help me!' Gretchen pleaded again. 'Please…'

Chloe could sense the intense feeling of helplessness start to consume her, but she was too tired to fight it. So tired… It slowly enveloped her, until it was the only thing she could think, feel and breath. There was nothing else. Only loneliness.

Chloe reached out her hands, holding them towards Gretchen. She was weak – so weak with despair; it was the only thing she could do.

'Help me…' someone whispered. Chloe was no longer sure whom. She was so weak, so tired, so far away from her herself, that nothing else mattered…

As their fingers touched, the poor dead girl seemed to float through her and disappear once again. Chloe knew what she had to do. She sunk to her hands and knees and crawled across the floor, dragging herself along with each painful movement. Her fingers closed around a cabinet door, and she pulled it open. Inside was a fresh razorblade, still unused. She grasped it, and heaved her tired frame into a sitting position against the wall. There was only one way to release the pain and the loneliness.

Deftly, as if she had done it all her life, she held the blade to the soft flesh on her forearm, and pressed down hard…

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Endnote: This is not the end! There's more to come. So talk to me… tell me if you loved it, tell me if your feel your eyes are forever soiled by it, tell me if you like cookies. I do. Kryptonite flavoured. J