Well, the saying from the last chapter meant "That's life." in French. And seeing as La Moirae got it right first, I think she deserves praise for being a surprisingly (Not that people fromtexas are all somehow by default dumb) articulate 15 year old from Texas (A proud Texan). Umm... I don't know if that's much, but that's all I can do. And everyone make sure to be on her good side (If she has one), she can be kind of a harsh reviewer. Sometimes.

Anyway, enjoy the explanation I managed to scrape up for Carl being the killer.


Chapter 7

Life. How cruel it was. I didn't know what to do anymore... A week after Jimmy's funeral, I was still sitting on my bed, surrounded by a wall of tissues.

"Cindy! Let me in!" I heard Libby yell. "I'm your best friend and I demand it!"

I shook my head, but caught myself as I realized no one could see me.

"No!" I replied. "No one's coming in here until I die! I want to wallow in my misery! Leave me alone!"

I heard Libby pounding on the door persistantly. I shook my head again, but I didn't stop myself; I didn't even care anymore. Well, after Carl had gotten arrested and taken to a police station, they had sent him to a mental insistute. It turned out he was psychotic and in the period of time that he had been friends with Jimmy, he had been planning his death the whole time. The first time I had been told this, by a phone call from the doctor at the mental institute, I had shaken my head, refusing to believe how someone as gentle and caring as Carl would be like that.

"No way," I whispered. "No way... Why Carl? Why? What did he do? What did Jimmy do?"

The pounding stopped abruptly. I looked up at the door and then called out.

"Libby?"

No answer.

"Libby?" I asked again. "You there?"

I stood up, and sent the wall of tissues cascading down. Cautiously, I approached the door and eased it open. The hall was empty.

"Hello?" I croaked. "Mom? Libby? Anybody?"

I pushed myself forward and glanced around as if I expected something to pop up from the shadows surrounding me.

'Shadows? It's only 3 in the afternoon...'

Just then, I saw something flit across the living room. I held my breath, but kept moving forward.

"Hello?"

The figure moved again. I inched toward the wall.

"Hello?" I repeated. "Anyone there?"

I felt a chill overcome my body as the figure crept closer and closer...

Then the room went dark.


"Cindy? Oh my god, are you awake?"

I shook my head and tried desperately to lift up my eyelids.

"W-What? What's happening?" I muttered while trying to lift myself up onto my elbows.

"No. Don't try to get up," I heard a voice say. "Stay still."

I got up anyway, despite the efforts of the person trying to keep me laying down.

"W-Who is this?" I whispered."What's going on?"

The person in front of me sounded vaguely familiar. He pushed me down with surprising strength and then sat down on the chair next to my bed.

"Cindy?" the person asked. "It's me. It's Jimmy! Wake up!"

I shook my head slightly and smiled at the person.

"It can't be Jimmy... He died... Carl killed him," I muttered.

The figure in front of me took a step back and stared at me with wide eyes.

"Cindy?" he asked. "Are you alright?" He smacked himself on the forehead and moved closer. "Of course you're not alright! You've been unconcious for three days!"

I shook my head again. 'Three days? I've been unconcious? What?'

"What are you talking about?" I asked while pushing myself up onto my elbows. This time, he didn't push me back down.

"Cindy!" he said exasperatedly. "You've been in a coma for three days! You hit your head at your pool party, remember?"

I shook my head yet again.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

I saw now that it was indeed Jimmy; his ice-cream hairdo intact.

"Jimmy?" I asked. "What?"

I heard him gasp.

"Oh my god, she has amnesia!"

I shook my head for the fourth time and exclaimed, "What are you talking about? I don't have amnesia, I'm just really, really confused!"

I saw Jimmy move closer to me. He lifted my hand off of the bed and held it close to his chest.

"I thought you were a goner, Cindy!" he whispered. "You were so pale, so quiet. Ithought you'd never wake up!"

I took my hand away from him.

"What are you talking about, Neutron?" The vivid images from my so-called 'coma dream' flashed back into my mind. "No way that was a dream! Come on!" I heard myself say. "You confessed your undying love to me! You died! Carl stabbed you!"

He stepped back yet again and stared at me the way he had in my 'coma dream'.

"Cindy?" he asked. "Are you sure you're not delirious?"

He was blushing, nonetheless. I tried to get out of bed, but failed as my legs slipped out from under me.

"Neutron! Where are you going?"

He was about to slip out the door. "I-I'm going to get a nurse..."

"No! Come back here, Jimmy!"

That stopped him; I had called him by his first name.

"Did--Did you just call me Jimmy?"

I nodded and scrambled forward as fast as I could on wobbly legs. When I reached him, I held him in a tight embrace.

"I don't want to lose you again."

He pushed me off lightly and stared.

"When was the first time you lost me?"