Again, Becca and Krystle were making the mistake of using the same computer at the same time. It was a hot, sultry day outside, so they were glad to be inside in the air conditioning. Becca was wearing her favorite hat, her converse shoes with the $100 Ben Franklin print, Harry Potter shirt, and cargo capris.
As always, it looked as though Krystle hadn't cared much about her outfit for the day. Ripped jeans, the ocean-blue gems missing in several places from the swirly patterns near her pockets, a long gray tee, this one with indistinct, smoky gray skulls littered across the front, her typical golden necklace (and only Becca knew what lay at the end, as a result of their previous adventure), and hair flopping over one eye, her expression at peace, her eyes closed as she drummed the desk with her fingers, the earplugs to her beat-up old CD player in her ear. Becca, currently, and quite out of characterly, was trying to get her to actually work.
"Come on, how come I'm working on cleaning up our room and you're just sitting there? I mean you're not even writing, what are you listening to anyway?" Becca half glared, half smiled at her sister.
"You're not working on cleaning up our room," Krystle demurred faintly; Becca was quite surprised that she could even hear, as judging by the faint hiss issuing from the earplugs, the music was quite loud. "You're sitting on the computer, waiting for me to get up so that we can clean up; we both know that I'm the most organized here." However, the heat seemed to have gotten to her, and she was silent for a long moment, not making any attempt to rise. "I'm listening to some song by Cartel. 'The Minstrel's Prayer,' I think it's called. And for your information, I've had a writer's block, ever since..." Her face's peaceful expression was shattered and a spasm of resentment and regret crossed it. "...ever since we came back from Jack's time."
"I'll never forget that, If only we could return sometime," Becca mused, looking back to her computer, while she inadvertently played with her skull and cross bone studs as she sat at the computer, with eyes glazed. She didn't pay too much attention to the German site that she'd been trying to translate for school.
Krystle was silent. Becca glanced sideways at her and saw the ghosts of that short time passing over her surrogate sister's eyes. Ever since they'd returned, Krystle had been distant. She locked herself behind her music and her books, and her AP homework and her nightmares, and hardly spoke to anyone anymore. "We'll never go back," she said softly, suddenly. "You know we can't, Becca. We have no way to return. It doesn't work anymore. I've tried it, thousands of times." She lifted the golden medallion from her shirt, gazing at it with a terrible longing in her eyes, the pain there strong and unwavering. "I just miss him, that's all," she said quietly to Becca's unasked question, and tucked the medallion away again.
Becca gazed at her surrogate sister; she seemed to be the shell of her former self almost. She'd been depressed before, but it seemed that the end of the mass adventures they'd had in Jack's time seemed to take all precedence. "It's not like you're the only one who never dreams about returning, wanting for another object to appear. I miss the roar of the wild and writhing sea as much as you do. We have the sea out there", she motioned outside their flat, to Florida Bay, which led to the Atlantic Ocean. "I mean, the sea is amazing there, but it doesn't merit as much fascination and terror as it did back then, and we were right in the middle of it." Of course Becca would bring this up, she was pursuing a career in Marine Biology, and it enveloped many of her thoughts. "And I miss Jack as well." She said gloomily.
Some writhing rage suddenly appeared in Krystle's eyes, and she jumped to her feet, glaring down at Becca. "You don't know all of it," she snarled, angrily. Becca recoiled in shock; Krystle had never argued with her so ferociously before. "We...that last night, we..." She swallowed, hard, angrily, and raged on. "I drank with him," she said, her eyes hard, "I drank with him, and he said things I know he didn't mean, and he kissed me, and..." She stormed over to the window, lashing out at the glass, and Becca was surprised that it didn't shatter. "I don't miss the adventure, Becca, I just miss him...why did you think I had a pounding headache when we woke up back here? I was hungover, for the first time in my life." Suddenly, her rage seemed to calm, and she stopped, turning slowly, raising her hand to her eyes, blowing out a shaky breath. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice returned to its usual near-silent timbre. "I didn't mean to snap at you."
"You were so bloody drunk last night that you didn't even realize what he was doing when he left your blasted table. He was sitting with me, trying to pry some rum into my mouth. You were so into your rum that you didn't notice that Jack kissed me before he kissed you; he told things that he didn't mean. Will you ever realize that he probably has forgotten, about both of us? And he probably went out the night after we disappeared to binge with some other women. Get it through your mind that he doesn't care!" Becca was now standing up, both the memory of that last night and the heat was getting to her, she always got very cranky when it was hot out. "I'm so sick of you moping around like you've lost your one true love; Jack isn't tied down by anything or anyone, except the sea." She sat back down, disgusted.
"I don't care if you're disgusted with me!" Krystle shouted, her temper back up again. "I see the look on your face, I know I'm being completely stupid, I don't need you telling me to get anything through my head. I've spent my whole life ferreting around for that one person who might care about me, and now I know for certain - he doesn't exist. Acting like I lost my one true love, Becca? I noticed, you know. I saw him kiss you first, even if I was bloody drunk. I knew he wasn't...it...and I did it anyway, took the rum, let him take advantage of me. I'd actually grown to like him, the first person I've really liked in so long - you remember the last disaster, don't you?" Her hard eyes burned into Becca's, but the other didn't back down. "A year of leading me on, and I walk in on him snogging another girl? I'm not worth it to any of them, Becca, which is why he kissed you first...we only knew Jack for a couple of weeks at the most, but I thought I actually had a chance." She took a last breath and snarled, "Forgive me for my false hope," and strode from the room, her head held angrily high. By the sound of the door slamming, it sounded like she'd walked into the bathroom and locked the door.
"I'm so sick of your excuses! That's like all the rubbish I've told you through the years about me thinking that I wasn't good enough for anyone. You think I haven't been lead on? Rubbish! The guy that I loved is engaged to someone else! We don't get what we want Krystle! This is what's called life." Tears welled up in her eyes. "I thought I found the guy I could spend the rest of my life with," She whispered. "But it doesn't seem as though he felt the same way." Glaring at the door of the bathroom, she continued her rant. "I kissed that man, even though he was kissing you across the room because it felt like I was breaking all ties I had from our world, like I was admitting defeat of ever returning. Yet we're back." I'm so sick of you lately, every thing you do is so pathetic, it's sickening." She glared back at the computer screen and scribbled notes madly in her notebook, angry tears streaming down her face.
Krystle looked up at the bathroom mirror, listening to the cold water rush from the tap and into the sink, staring straight into her own forest-brown eyes, following the wasted line of her jaw, looking at the dark circles under her eyes, looking at the reflection that had finally lost it, that had finally let everything rise to the surface. "I'm sorry I'm so sickening," she whispered to herself, glaring at the mirror. "I'm sorry I'm so pathetic, and I'm sorry I didn't drown in that last glass of rum..." And suddenly, the anger returned, and she lashed out at the glass, striking it with her hand, shattering the mirror in one swift stroke as pieces of her broke and fell into the water below and blood dripped down her palm, and when she looked back up at her shattered reflection, it seemed to have gone a little unfocused, and with a feeling of dread she realized that the familiar feeling of being slowly disassembled was coming upon her.
Becca looked up, stunned, at the door of the bathroom. She wasn't a particularily strong person, so she was amazed that she somehow broke the door open. The fading image of Krystle, with blood splattered on her hands. "Krystle?" She ran to her, just in time to cunningly grab the first aid kit and her arm, while they disappeared entirely from real life, again.