Chapter 4:

Falling Six Feet Under

Please come now, I think I'm falling

I'm holding on to all I think is safe

It seems I found the road to nowhere

And I'm trying to escape

I yelled back when I heard thunder

But I'm down to one last breath

And with it let me say

Hold me now

I'm six feet from the edge

And I'm thinking

That maybe six feet

Ain't so far down.

-Creed, "One Last Breath."

///

Ling Xiaoyu was stretched out on the pullout couch in the living room of the Chang residence. She was dressed in a pink nightgown and her was hair pulled back in a low ponytail at the base of her neck. Ling couldn't sleep; lying on her back, eyes wide staring at the ceiling, unblinking, she kept seeing the funeral in her mind's eye. The empty oak box being lowered into the wet earth, rain cascading down the sides like silent tears; the soaked, droopy bouquet of lilies near the head of the casket. And the emotional faces of the mourners, surrounding her. These images swirled through her brain in an infinite loop.

A loud snore filled the once quiet living room and Xiao jumped. She turned her head to the sound and glanced down at the floor. Hwoarang was sprawled out on the carpet. His head situated on a small couch pillow, wrapped in a red and pink HelloKitty blanket. Xiaoyu smiled when she looked at it, remembering the two-year-old-like tantrum 'Rang threw earlier when he found out that it was the last clean blanket in the house. Hwoarang snored again, louder this time, his mouth wide; then rolled onto his side, facing away from Ling.

Xiao watched him for a few minutes, lost again in the never ending, heart wrenching loop.

"Shit!"

Ling's head whipped around to the sound of a loud whisper coming from the kitchen area of the house. Dim light played across the beige tile. She swung her legs off the couch and stood, carefully dodging the creaking floorboards to her right, and stepping gingerly over Hwoarang. As Xiaoyu inched towards the kitchen on tip toe, she heard the sound of someone rummaging through the cabinets.

"Where the hell did she hide the Whiskey?" a whispered voice drifted across the room.

"Jules, what are you doing?" the young Chinese girl asked.

Julia quickly spun away from the opened cabinet and faced her friend. She looked disheveled, her hair was a mess, her clothes were smeared with dirt and grime, and black mascara tracks could be seen running down her pale cheeks.

"Nothing," she said quickly, too quickly, "go back to bed Ling." And with that dismissal, Julia wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and turned back to the cupboard to continue her search. "Where the fuck did she put it! I saw it here earlier, it's not like it could have grown legs and walked away."

Hurt, Xiao stayed where she was, "Julia what's wrong? Please talk to me."

"No." Julia growled, she had moved on to the refrigerator and was moving the items around inside, reaching far into the back, "I can't believe she thinks she can hide it from me, like I'm not gonna be able to find it."

Xiaoyu was feeling helpless and angry, but the anger was overriding every other emotion.

"Damnit Julia, why won't you talk to me? I know what you're going through, because I'm going through it too."

"Aha!" Julia exclaimed as she pulled out a brown paper sack from the back of the fridge. She closed the door, and opened the bag, and produced a glass bottle of Jack Daniel's Old No. 7 Whiskey. Julia turned to Ling with a delirious smile on her face, "You'd think she would have picked a better, less obvious hiding spot. Guess mom thinks I'm too much of a good girl to do something so stupid, huh?" She took a swig, gagging slightly as it burned her throat on the way down.

"Where have you been?"

"Out," was Julia's vague reply right before she took another swig.

"Have you been drinking?" Ling asked; shock evident in her tone of voice.

"Wow, Ling," Julia said, eyes wide with mock surprise, "you sure are smart. However did you figure that one out? Guess you're not such a dumbass after all."

Xiao cringed slightly at Julia's harsh words, but reminded herself that Julia wasn't acting normal, that it was the alcohol talking. Or was it? Did Julia really think her friend was a dumbass?

"Julia, why won't you talk to me? Don't you remember when we used to tell each other everything?"

Julia narrowed her eyes, "There's nothing to talk about. And anyway, the old days are dead. They died along with Jin."

"That's not true. We can talk about this, because what you're going through, I'm experiencing it too. I just lost my best friend in the entire world, we buried him today, and he's never coming back." A sob escaped her lips, and Ling burst into tears.

"I highly doubt that you know what I'm going through," Julia whispered, her voice dripping with rage, "the man you love is still alive and kicking, passed out on my living room floor. And the man I loved…love, the man I would have given everything up for, is dead," black tears began to leak from her smudged eyes with each word, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each heaving breath, "I'm never gonna see him again, never see him smile at me, never have his arms wrapped around me, and know that nothing in this world could touch me with him near." She took a step towards Ling, her fury mounting, "after all is said and done, you tell me who's got the better deal here; you or me?"

Xiaoyu blinked, "Julia, I—,"

"I don't want to hear it." Julia snapped, she walked around the smaller girl, knocking her with her shoulder as she passed. Xiao stumbled back a step, bringing a hand up to her shoulder, feeling a bruise already beginning to form. She watched Julia stalk down the hallway to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

///

"The next morning," Hwoarang said staring at his hands, "Michele went into her room to wake her up for breakfast and found it completely empty. The drawers to her dresser were pulled open, emptied of her clothes, as was her closet. Her clothes and a few pictures were the only things missing from her room. Nothing else was touched. And the thing that killed Xiao and her mom, was that there was no note whatsoever from Julia. Nothing to tell us where she was going, or what she was planning; she simply vanished. Along with my motorcycle." Hwoarang sighed.

"That must have killed you." Jin said, deadpan.

"Yeah, it did. That was my favorite bike, my only bike at the time." Hwoarang said sadly.

Hwoarang glanced up from his hands and looked at the digital alarm clock on the desk to his left, the glowing green numbers read: 5:07 p.m.

"Damn, where does the time go?" 'Rang asked as he stood up from his position on the chair, "I gotta jet, I've got somewhere I gotta be."

"What?" Jin asked, surprised, "We're not done here, I still have more questions. You haven't told me everything."

"Excuse me Kazama," The Korean said, a frown beginning to take form on his forehead, "just because you decided to come back from the dead doesn't mean I have to put everything on hold to cater to your needs. I have a life and things that I have to take care of." He brushed passed Jin, and walked towards the door, opening it. With one foot over the threshold, Hwoarang stopped and turned to face Jin.

"Are you ever going to reveal yourself to her in this lifetime?"

Uncertainty flashed over Jin's face before he spoke, "I-I don't know."

Hwoarang looked him in the eye, "You feel like Frankenstein, don't you?"

"What?"

"Julia's the Monster to your Frankenstein," 'Rang clarified, "In a way you feel responsible for her actions because of the hell you put her through. And you're afraid to face her, because by doing so, you'll be forced to confront your demons."

Jin stared at his old rival in utter shock, "Since when did you become so insightful?"

'Rang shrugged, "I told you I've changed."

"You weren't kidding."

"She took it really hard after your death," 'Rang continued quietly, "I mean, its really no surprise, she loved you. But I'm sure she still carries the weight of it on her shoulders to this day. And you don't even care."

"Of course I care!" Jin yelled, he was suddenly out of his seat, "I care more than you'll ever know. It killed me to have to leave her."

"Then why won't you go see her face to face, and end her self-loathing?"

"It's complicated," Jin looked down at his feet.

"That's bullshit Kazama, quit being a fucking pussy." Hwoarang snapped.

Jin's head whipped up to glare at him, "You'll never even begin to understand the hell I've been through these last two years. None of you will. So don't stand there and lecture me about what I'm doing is wrong. You have no idea what has happened to me," he faltered a little, his eyes looking past 'Rang, unseeing, "I don't even understand what is happening to me."

"You're right. That was out of line."

Hwoarang stepped out onto the brightly lit balcony of the motel, the cool breeze coming off the ocean ruffled his flaming red hair and turned to Jin, "Today's Wednesday," he suddenly declared.

"So?" Jin placed a hand on the door knob.

"So, if you want to spy on Julia again tonight, you're gonna have to haul your ass up to Laurel Canyon."

"Why?" Jin asked, he was at a loss.

"Because," Hwoarang said, zipping up his jacket, "Julia races dirt bikes out there. She does it every week. She's got this nasty habit of putting herself in danger. Watch your back." The Korean left Jin standing in the doorway and made his way down the stairs, to the parking lot. He hopped on his bike and sped out, and onto the street; disappearing into traffic.

///

"Julia, can I come in?" The voice on the other side of her bedroom door asked.

"Yeah," Julia answered, from her position at the window seat.

The door opened and Michele Chang entered, dressed in a sophisticated black dress, black tights. And black pumps completed her mourner's outfit. For today was Jin's memorial service.

Michele crossed the room and sat down on the window seat opposite Julia.

"Honey," Michele began, taking in the sight of her daughter still in her night clothes, "you're going to have to get ready soon. The service is in an hour."

"I know," Julia said, not looking at her mother, but staring out the window, unblinking.

Michele shifted in her seat, "Jules, I know you're going through something horrible right now. And I'm here for you if you want to talk about it."

Julia looked down at her hands clasped in her lap, a curtain of hair blocking her face from view.

"I really don't want to talk about it," she whispered from behind her hair.

Michele nodded and stood up, walking to the door, she stopped with her hand on the knob.

"I'll be downstairs if you need me." She opened the door, but the sound of Julia's torn voice halted her movements.

"I couldn't save him, not like I did for you. I should have gone against his orders and followed him to the temple's main chamber. But I didn't, and now he's dead."

"There was nothing you could have done sweetheart, nothing. Don't beat yourself up over it. He wanted you to be safe, and he got his wish." Michele protested, when Julia didn't respond, she turned and left, closing the door softly behind her.

"You're wrong, all of you are wrong," Julia said out loud to the quiet bedroom. She moved from the window to her dresser where her purse was resting, unzipping it, she pulled out a pack of Marlboro Light 100s. Smacking the pack against the heel of her hand, a slender white tobacco stick slipped out. She took it and brought it to her lips, and lit it with the silver Zippo lighter that was lying next to her cheerleading trophy.

She sucked in the gray smoke, and held her breath. Keeping the tainted air trapped in her lungs. Feeling lightheaded, she let it out through her nose. Julia repeated this until only a nub of the cigarette was left. Blowing out a final puff of smoke, Julia rolled up her sleeve so the flesh of her left forearm was showing. She turned her arm, the veins in her wrist visible, and brought the burning cigarette down on her skin. She rubbed the tip deep into her arm, until she heard the telltale hissing sound of skin sizzling. The acrid smell quickly filled the room and Julia gnashed her teeth against the pain.

But this pain was nothing compared to the turmoil she felt raging inside her. If anything, it gave her a moment's peace. With the cigarette out, she pulled her sleeve down to cover the charred black circle on her arm.

A small smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.

"I can make it go away, even if it'll take me an entire box of cigarettes."

A/N: So that was the fourth chapter. How was it? I don't know if I like it. I'm still a little iffy about it, I saw these scenes in my head, but writing it down was harder than I thought. But even with all my doubts, at least its setting things in motion for future chapters and moving the plot along. Tell me what you think. Thanks in advance.