A/N:Hi! Thanks for taking the time to read my fanfic! I greatly appreciate it. Let me start by explaining that I'm not exactly new to fan fiction. I've done a couple of them before, but they never really worked out for me. I haven't done this in a really, really long time, which isn't an excuse by the way. It's been a while. But I just wanted to let you know that willing to get into the excitement of writing again, and I'm beyond excited to start this story.
The prologue is supposed to be kind of dark. Originally, this started out as an old draft in my folder, but when I found it a while ago I was in a really dark twisted mood and started adding stuff on it... and then ended up changing the whole thing. Which eventually resulted with me planning this fan fiction. I admit, I'm a little shy right now... I would really like to know what you guys think. CC always welcome, of course. :)
DISCLAIMER: I don't do own anything related to The Mediator series. All familiar characters that are going to be in this fanfic belong to Meg Cabot. The rest is purely from the imagination of the writer for this fan fiction.
PLEASE R&R! REVIEW! It only takes a few seconds, all you have to type in is one word. That one word is my motivation.
PROLOGUE:
CHOICE OF FATE
I could think of many good reasons why I shouldn't knock on this door. I could turn around and get as far away from this house as possible if I wanted to. I could forget this whole thing ever happened, and everything can go back to the way things used to be. It seemed simple enough, right? I was one simple decision away from choosing destiny. Nevertheless, this wasn't a "win or lose" type of situation. The harsh truth was that whatever I decision I made, I would either end up losing or risking it all.
I'm an idiot.
I know I could be anywhere right now. I didn't have to come here. Yet, I made that decision myself. I've felt like I've betrayed myself though, which explained why this was immensely hard for me in the first place. Because, in a way, as I stood awkwardly on his doorstep, it looked like I had given in. This is exactly where he wanted me. He knew I'd be coming back – but I was here for an entirely different reason than what he thought.
What brought me here in the first place was something that had been on my mind for days – no – much longer than that probably. There were so many things you'd assume I know by now when really, I barely even knew anything about who I was at all. It sounds sad when you put it that way. I hardly remember anything about my biological mother (or any other relative for that matter), and I rarely discussed or taken any interest on my personal background. I had been a foster child for as long as I could remember and my mother was dead. Period. That was all I needed to know, and after that infamous visit from him, I didn't want to know anything else anymore.
Of course, as you grow older, you start to learn more about yourself and question who you are as an individual. My mentality had changed since then, because I finally accepted that there would come a point in time when I can't ignore my burning curiosity any longer. It was well hidden and buried deep inside, but it was clearly still visible. Like a robot with a noticeably important broken piece of it missing. It's impossible to live in a world that doesn't make any sense. To live in a world where there's a man who claims he knows you and constantly stars in every one of your nightmares, or your little knowledge of what happened on a Saturday night out with your mother because it somehow erased your total memory. What kind of a life was this? I was screwed up. I was the outsider without a clue – my reality.
I've always had the feeling that all these mysteries that had occurred were in some way closely related, but I had no evidence to back up my speculations. This was fine with me because all I wanted to do was forget about it and get through another miserable day in peace. That was all I asked for. To hell with it, was what I thought. It had never really crossed my mind how important this was until that one faithful day that made me open my eyes for the first time. It was important because I had been lied to for most of my life. I already didn't trust a single soul.
There was some sort of secret behind this, and I was determined find out what it was. Yes, that certainly meant I was willing to risk it all: I would do anything, I wasn't afraid of any potential threat of danger. I didn't care where I was, even if I literally was at hell's door. This was my decision.
There were probably many things that have been kept from me all those years. I was willing to find out what they were. However, I did not understand the unknown reason behind it. Now that I've found out what really happened to my mother that one night, I demanded some more answers. I needed to know more. Maybe everything would finally make sense... I needed to start somewhere. I needed someone to help me.
Unfortunately, there was only one person out there who could do that. The person I swore I would stay away from since I was 7 years old. Let me remind you again that this didn't mean I was desperate. If I didn't have any other choice, I wouldn't even be ringing his doorbell at this very moment.
"Good afternoon." A young maid answered the door. "May I help you, sir?"
I cleared my throat. "Is, uh, Mr. Slater here?" His name tasted like venom in my mouth.
"Yes, he is." She nodded slowly, looking at me carefully for some reason. "Do you have an appointment to see Mr. Slater?"
"Do I need one?" I asked dully. I expected something like that. But I was going to get in either way.
She didn't say anything for a couple of seconds. She continued to look at me straight in the eye. I couldn't comprehend the expression on her face, but the sudden mood shift had startled me. I tried not to let my face show how taken aback I was when I saw the suspicion in her eyes. Trust issues, much? I couldn't tell if she was annoyed or paranoid. Then again, maybe I was the one who was starting to get paranoid.
"Yes, you do, actually." Her voice was guarded, but still polite as before. There was something weird about her that I didn't like. "Mr. Slater's quite busy these days. He's got a hectic schedule this month. I'm afraid he's not available to meet with anyone right now... Besides," she added, "Mr. Slater doesn't like it when people stop by without consulting first. You'll have to call next time."
Was that last line supposed to get rid of me? Was she seriously trying to do that with me? I assumed people had to "schedule appointments" to talk to this man, but I definitely wasn't going to let that stop me from getting inside. I thought I had already made that clear. Once again, I was going to get in one way or the other. Seriously, after all the trouble I've gone through to get here. This trip to Carmel was not going to be a waste of my time.
I sighed.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," I apologized sincerely. I still had my patience, but it was only a matter of time before I lost it. "But I've lost his phone number a while ago. I had to come and talk to him in person about something urgent. Since he did always mention how I was always welcome to come by and visit him, I figured I would take advantage of that opportunity. I was hoping I'd get to see him today actually, seeing as I'm here for only a couple of hours... I'm not exactly local."
She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily – a clear indication that she'd given up. She probably thought I was lying to her because she still looked irritated. Astonishingly, every single bit of what I said wasn't a lie. I don't lie unless I need to.
I smirked.
It was hard to believe that a person like me would have anything to do with Mr. Slater, I have to admit. I couldn't blame her. For all I knew, she must get strangers like me knocking on this door all the time. I guess I could understand how that can get frustrating after a while.
"Then may I ask who you are? I need a name."
When she asked me, I was a little hesitant for a second -- I didn't want him knowing I was here. Originally, I planned to surprise him with my unexpected visit. It seemed stupid now. But, seeing as "Mr. Simon doesn't like surprise visits," I figured that there was no point in that anyway. If I came here for answers, I decided, I was going to have to be more direct in order to be taken seriously.
"Daniel Simon."
"Wait here," the maid ordered before she disappeared from the doorway. A minute later, she reappeared at the door again and gestured for me to come inside. "Follow me, please." I followed silently.
I was in.
We walked down a small narrow hallway on the left side of the mansion. A part of the house, I guessed, everybody forgot about. The red carpet beneath my feet looked stained and dirty with age, and the beige-painted walls around me were chipped and cracked severely from floor to ceiling. A setting like this was enough to make a person feel extremely uncomfortable. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Or was my sudden eeriness just a misapprehension? I pondered why we were here of all places. Then again, I've never been to his house before.
I didn't say anything though.
I was starting to feel more cautious. I didn't know what to expect, but I knew exactly what I came here for and I wasn't going to forget it. I tried to put all those personal thoughts about him aside. Still, I couldn't help but feel like every step I took seemed like it was more dangerous than I'd imagined. There was a voice in the back of my head that told me to take a step back... even though my feet kept moving forward as if it had a mind of its own.
The hallway was longer than it looked.
We reached the end of the hallway, the maid stopped in front of the very last door numbered "59" in ink black letters. I assumed I was supposed to wait in there, unless he was already waiting inside for me. Or maybe this was the back door and she was going to kick me out...?
I was waiting for her to say something. She still had her back to me, strangely, not saying a word.
Since the silence was starting to feel discomfiting as it continued, I was about to ask her something (since I didn't know what else to do), but then she swiftly spun around and started speaking quickly. Not that I was paying any attention to what she was saying.
"Mr. Slater says he's just about to wrap up an important meeting. He'll be down in about a minute or so. You'll meet in this room and you'll only have about an hour to talk to him. Unless Mr. Slater decides to extend it, considering he claims he remembers you. Until then, would you like anything else?"
Her face...
It took me a few seconds to realize that she was waiting for me to respond. Her eyes were careful again. I've been stupidly staring at her this whole time. My lips parted, but I couldn't make any sound come out of my mouth, my mind had completely gone blank.
I shook my head slowly. It was the only part of my body I could manage to move. I couldn't look away from her face -- It was frightening. Frighteningly familiar that it made me breathe unevenly.
It was as soon as she turned to face me that I noticed something entirely different about her that made me freeze on the spot. I didn't remember her having that many wrinkles on her face, or those heavy bags under her eyes either. Wasn't she a little bit younger? Because I don't think your back starts to hunch over and your voice starts to sound rasp until you've reached at least eighty. I was sure I wasn't imagining this at all. I wanted to believe this was a different person, except, I've been following her this whole time.
Her face is not real, I reassured myself for the last time. I still kept staring though, because it WAS real. The fact that it was real terrified me.
In this very vivid nightmare I once had when I was a kid, I remembered being lost in the middle of what seemed nowhere with strangers walking from every direction, surrounding me completely. I asked one man where my parents were, but he didn't answer me and just kept walking forward. I went up to one mother holding hands with both of her small children but they continued walking, too -- right through me this time. I remember being so confused; I think I did a double take to see if I really was "imagining" things. I felt alone despite the people that were walking around in my dream.
Nobody heard me yelling, nobody saw me wave my hands frantically, and nobody could feel me pull on their clothing. Nobody was going to answer me. I was never going to get out of there, was all I thought.
"They can't see you," I heard someone say. Surprised, I looked up and saw an elderly woman standing ten feet away from me. She smirked when she saw my expression. I was more confused than relieved, and wondered how this person was able to see me when the rest couldn't.
What really astounded me was the way she looked directly at me, as if I were the only person there. She seemed to ignore the zombie-like people walking around her, and they could care less. Then, at that moment, I knew she was the only person there who could see me.
"W-why not?" I stuttered.
"They can't hear or touch you, either," the woman went on, ignoring my question. Her face was pale – emotionless. It matched her tone perfectly. Essentially, she looked exactly like the people walking by and could easily blend in, yet she was different somehow. I wasn't quite so sure how. "You have no idea how many people have to go through this torture. Imagine being ignored forever."
I couldn't. "Wow," I said, shaking my head. "No, I can't imagine. I don't like it very much." I frowned. I wondered how I ended up in this strange place, but most importantly, how I was going to get home. I was hoping this stranger could help me.
"Nobody does – Especially when you have to go though it for more than forty years until someone finally notices something is wrong with you." I didn't understand what she was saying.
"Ma'am, why can't these people see me?" I asked her again.
She looked at me bewilderedly. It was as if I were missing something completely obvious, even if I was just a clueless little boy. She probably thought I knew exactly what she was talking about; probably guessing I was "different" like her, too. At least that's what I assumed with her unusual approach. I didn't understand a word she was saying, though. All I cared about was whether I was going to get out of this place or not. She was the only person who could help me.
I gazed at her curiously as she walked closer toward me, closing the small distance between us. She looked at me inquisitively as well. I wasn't sure what she was going to do, I had a feeling this strange old woman was somebody I was supposed to stay away from. This was sort of a contradictory because it's elderly people like her who are supposed to be the complete opposite from dangerous. At least that's what I thought when I was younger. Her face still looked lifeless and innocent, but through those liquid blue eyes I saw misery and anger.
She was the one who needed help.
"You'll find out eventually."
Unpredictably, before I could even react to what she said, a man walked right through her.
I hadn't seen him coming from the other direction; it all happened so rapidly that if I blinked once I would miss the entire thing. Watching it was like seeing me go through the same experience for the second time. What made this feel even more chilling was the fact that I'd seen it from another point of view this time. Still, it was what had exactly happened to me! I couldn't believe it!
My eyes were wide open by now and my heart started to accelerate its rhythm as I watched in sheer disbelief her transparent form start to fade away. Petrified, I slowly backed away from her unconsciously. She narrowed her eyes down at me and that was the last I've seen of her before she disappeared and left me alone again. Shortly after, the panicking started. Then I found myself waking up in the middle of the night, panting and uneasy.
It's impossible to forget about her.
"Would you stop staring?" the maid finally snapped, bothered by my mystified gaze. I blinked at her, still dazed from my very recent flashback. She exhaled sharply, eyes tightened, and twitching uncontrollably. She seemed like she was about to get ready to dart out before she did anything she would regret afterward. I swallowed hard, dropping my eyes to the floor while mumbling a pathetic apology. At least now she has a good reason to dislike me.
Either I'm insane or this place is making me insane. I don't see any other explanation. Just get inside and get it over with, you really need to stop being dramatic. You know, that's really pathetic. You're over-thinking this way too much. It's all just in your head. Now get over it.
My eyes stayed glued to the carpet as I went ahead and gradually turned the doorknob to get inside. I felt a cool breeze from the back of my neck that sent a chill down my spine. My back straightened, and then I turned stiff. The whole atmosphere had changed. I paused, turning my head slightly just a few inches.
There was nothing but silence. It was just me – alone. I was the only one here. The maid had already left. I was probably too preoccupied with my own thoughts to notice. I snorted. The door creaked loudly as I pushed it open a few inches. "Ridiculous," I muttered to myself.
"I wouldn't go inside if I were you," warned a familiar voice from somewhere in the distance. My heart started pounding when I instantly recognized whose it was. I jumped and whipped my head around to see where he was. "You're not exactly supposed to be there."
He was at the opposite far end of the hall walking fluidly toward me, his eyes bright with excitement and mixed with interest. He looked the same as he always did despite the messy hair, half unbuttoned shirt, and loose tie at moment. Must have been one hell of a "meeting," that's all I have to say.
"Hello, Daniel," he said, pleasantly. Not even the slightest hint of surprise in his tone. "What brings you here of all places?"
He definitely hasn't changed much since I've last seen him, which was probably about 8 years ago. He hasn't even aged a bit, which I find hard to believe. His presence didn't freak me out as much as I'd expected, instead it gave me a feeling of déjà vu. I tried to conceal any trace of emotion on my face; carefully masking it with a hard inexpressive look that would surely remind him how much I still despised him more than ever. He was familiar with this expression.
"What do you mean I'm not supposed to be here?" I questioned bitterly. "One of your employees brought me here and told me I was supposed to wait for you in there." I gestured toward the door beside me. My clammy left hand still rested on the doorknob.
"I never said that I'd be waiting for you there," he answered calmly. What?
"Then why are you here?"
"I asked you first."
He stepped closer, I didn't move a muscle. We were about two feet apart from each other, face-to-face at last. He was impressed by the obvious height difference since last time; I could tell by the way he quickly looked me over. I wasn't half his size anymore, I was now as tall as him. This boosted up my confidence a little bit.
"Why else would you think I'd be here?" I responded. "I came here to see you."
"You came here to see me," he repeated, musing. What I said seemed to amuse him. "No, I don't think you understood my question very well. That wasn't what I was asking you—"
"Look," I interrupted, getting straight to the point. "It's because I really need to talk to you in case you haven't figured it out."
"About?" he prompted.
"You still didn't answer my question," I reminded him. "If I'm not supposed to be here then how the hell did you know where to find me? I have the feeling you're not telling me the truth, Slater." He never did.
His eyes flickered down to where my hand still stayed on the doorknob, then back to mine. I felt my grip on the doorknob loosen. For a brief second, a dark emotion flashed across his electric blue eyes, it was hard to decipher what it was exactly. A smile slowly spread across his face and he began to chuckle.
I blinked, still waiting.
"Go," he said unexpectedly. "Go ahead, Daniel. You can open the door."
I gritted my teeth, impatient. " Just answer the damn question."
"Go ahead."
"What – you don't want me here?" I harshly accused. "Is that why I'm not supposed to be here? Is that what you mean ?"
"Go ahead," he dared again. "Open the door and you'll see. Open it."
I've never trusted him. There was a good reason to doubt: Temptation was his potency. I've never trusted a single soul ever since. It had been that way since the day we first met. Though, under the intense pressure, the sudden impulse to break a lifetime of promises was revealed. My vulnerability deceived me, and it stung horribly.
Paul Slater knew precisely why I came. He knew it all along.
He gave me another choice. A choice that I couldn't turn my back on this time.
