Sweet T - Well, you'll find that out soon enough. I said in feedback with another story of mine (on a different site), but I would be the worst person to be involved with television. I want to spoil everything for everyone! Don't worry, though, I'll keep my lips sealed. ;) Glad you're enjoying it!

Conscious - Well I am now ^_^. Uh...yeah, you do that lol. I almost prefer that with readers. Like, when I read that they've figured it out way before I've posted it, it makes me sad that I wasn't more creative. Then I'm just flattered they'd take the time to think about it. Subtlety is the best, I agree. On the photograph front: just wait. I promise you're all going to know the answers to your questions before this ends.
Haha. Oh, I wouldn't dare.

McrFreak - Glad to hear it. :D

lorrene - Read and find out. ;)

One of my favourite things to do when I was little was to go into the woods not far from our house. I never tired of hanging out in there with my friends, or on occasion, the older kids from the neighbourhood who used to be down there.

There's a part down there that you have to climb down. It makes sense to have a downside to something so great. The front of the woods was boring in comparison. Glen estimated it to be a fifty-foot drop from the top. It wasn't too difficult to climb down because part of it was on a slope. You just pray the roots you're white knuckling won't give way and think to yourself how brave you are for the rest of the day. Until you have to climb back up, that is.

I fell, on more than one occasion, and I got more than a couple of cuts and bruises. They faded. They always faded. Each time Erin and I snuck away from in front of the house where our mother's could see us, we'd hurry down to our favourite part of the woods for hours.

I still remember the tone of voice Erin's father used when he stood at the top of the high slope, yelling at the top of his voice for us to get home. Walking toward him while simultaneously sharing worried glances with Erin, I felt as though I was heading to my execution!

Looking back now, I agree that it was dangerous for children. Children who thought they were ready for anything. Children who were only eight years old.

My friend lost a sneaker down there once. His foot got stuck and it fell off when I was trying to get it free. We found it a few months later. Sadly, it was far past salvageable.

The cooler kids used to make swings from trees that were as tall as the houses. Or, at least, it seemed that way back then. I was dared to try it out once and I accepted the offer somewhat reluctantly. I was terrified, but I could have probably done with some character building.

I still remember the sensation in my stomach just before fell off. The impact on landing wasn't the worst pain, as I only fell on my ass, it was how I put my hands out to stop my sliding further down the slope. I dragged a bumble bee with me. It was just hanging off my thumb, dying as it was poisoning me.

I must have been in shock because Erin hurried to me and asked me if I was all right but I couldn't speak because, suddenly, my thumb was bumble-bee-free and her mouth was over it, sucking the poison out. That was the first time a girl's tongue was on my skin and I can say with all honesty that my eyes weren't wide because of the pain.

I still think that however nice it felt, she shouldn't have done it. It was probably germ-infested from the fall.

My mother never approved of us spending time in the woods, and I can't even tell you how many times I was grounded for ignoring her warnings of how dangerous it was to be in there. The only time I took her seriously was when she told me one of her classmates died in there. Apparently, she was walking home and took a shortcut through the woods when a man strangled her with his belt. I still don't know if it was something she said just to stop me from going down there or if she was being honest, but a few weeks after that I stopped going down there. If I did happen to be feeling daring, I would just stay at the front of the woods.

At the front I always remember a small single dead tree and I could never reach the first branch no matter how hard I tried. All my friends could reach it and pull themselves up, but I couldn't. Even if I jumped, it was still just out of my reach.

Two years ago, I took a walk through those woods and I couldn't believe how low the branch actually was. I could reach it without even trying.

For the past week Ashley has been nothing but nice. She even pulls a chair out for me at the dinner table and then, for the benefit of the only two other occupants of the house, "decides" to sit in the next seat; leaving enough room for me to squeeze in without her parents noticing a moving chair. They still work long hours and they didn't press her for more answers when they asked about her neck. Ashley told them it was some guy and I know that technically she wasn't lying, but they barely batted an eyelid.

"Spencer?"

I look up to the only person who knows my name. "Yeah?"

Ashley is standing by the TV holding two DVDs "The Sweetest Thing or White Chicks?"

I'm supposed to be able to pick? "I love both. You pick."

"No, no, you pick."

I roll my eyes but can't help smiling at her. She's such a gentlewoman. "White Chicks."

The thin air about five feet away from me gets an adorable smile. "Can you bring the popcorn in?"

I can, yes. "Sure," I answer. Sometimes, I wish I could eat food. I miss it. I miss all the different flavours and textures. I miss eating too much candy at Halloween, or too much chocolate at Christmas and feeling nauseous. I miss feeling hungry.

The popcorn doesn't take long and looks good as I pour it into a bowl. Walking back into the living room, I sit down on the couch and Ashley soon joins me when she spots the warm popcorn resting in thin air.

"We can watch Hairspray if you want," she offers.

"Confession," I begin.

"What's that?"

"I snuck into the movies to see that when it first came out."

Ashley chuckles, bringing the popcorn up to her lips. "Aww, you're bad."

I smile, solely for the reason she is. "Better believe it."

Throughout the entire movie I look over to Ashley and repeatedly have to suppress a smile at her concentration face. She looks cute.

"Spencer?" she asks, her eyes never leaving the screen.

"Hmm?"

"You're staring at me," she states. "Why?"

My lips purse together and I quickly look away. Busted! "No, I'm not."

Ashley smiles, turning her head in my general direction. "You were."

"I was just looking around the room. What, I can't even do that now?"

"I felt you looking at me, so don't even try to deny it."

The look of amusement in her eyes makes my face blush. "Your face is in this room. Naturally, I'm going to look at it when I look around." My teeth briefly press down onto my bottom lip. "It's big enough," I mumble.

The front door opens suddenly, interrupting Ashley's witty retort, and I hear her mother walking through the hall into the living room. She's probably on her lunch break. That theory is shot-to-hell when I notice the time. It's three in the afternoon. Nobody has their lunch break at three p.m.

She looks surprised. "Oh, hi Ashley. I didn't think you'd be in."

Ashley pauses the DVD. "Yeah, well, I walked into town and checked out 'Hollywood Video'. There's only so much to do around here, Mom."

Her mother, Christine, rolls her eyes. "There's plenty to do here, you just don't want to see it. There's nothing stopping you from going out again now. God knows what you do by yourself all day."

"I'm busy now."

Christine raises an eyebrow. "With what, exactly?"

"Hanging out with Spencer," Ashley answers aloofly.

My mouth drops open and I whisper for her to shut up. I get a smirk in response.

"Who is that?" her mother questions.

"She's Spencer."

Christine stands there, clearly waiting for an elaboration. "Who is Spencer?" she asks, with emphasis on my name.

"She's a friend," Ashley finally answers her properly. I don't fight to keep the smile from breaking free.

Her mother shakes her head as she looks around the room. "A friend who is nowhere to be seen? Honestly Ashley, you should have had the imaginary friend phase a long time ago. I don't have time for this."

That doesn't bother Ashley in the slightest. "Bye."

I hear Christine shuffling through the mail before she leaves again with her purse she left on the stairs this morning.

"Are you okay?" I ask her when I hear her mother's car pulling out of the driveway.

Her shoulders shrug half-heartedly. "That was us getting along."

"I'm sorry," I offer and after a minutes silence I ask, "do you want me to scare her tonight?"

The smile that tugs at the corner of her lips makes me feel better. "That would be so awesome."

"If you want, I'll wear a sheet, too."

Her smile grows bigger -- to the point where her nose crinkles. "You have the best idea's."

After a short, comfortable silence, I point to the TV, mostly out of habit. I know she can't see me. "So, do you want to finish the movie or should we -"

"I met a really cute guy today," Ashley cuts me off suddenly, looking and scratching at one of her knees.

"Oh?" I attempt to sound interested at her sudden outburst. I fail.

"Yeah. We're hanging out later."

I look around the room, avoiding looking at her for the moment. "That's cool, I guess. If you're into that."

"Do you want to help me get ready?" she asks.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

I roll a piece of popcorn between my fingers. "I'm washing my hair," I reply, flippancy leaking from my tone.

"Maybe you know him?"

"What's his name?" I ask, not really caring.

"Tom Evans."

I remember him. Tall, blond, and muscular, with a side of arrogance. "He goes to my school. He's not that nice," I answer. And while he is arrogant, I have to admit that he's not a complete monster. He has a smile that can get him out of any situation. It's usually the same smile that got him into it.

Ashley shrugs. "Seemed nice enough."

I draw my eyebrows together from an emotion I'm not sure I want to identify yet. "I guess you'd think so. Most people wait until they aren't in public before trying to strangle you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she asks, her eyes burning into the couch next to me.

"Whatever you want it to."

Ashley's jaw sets for a second. "I can't believe you just said that," she replies before getting up and storming out of the room.

I feel myself getting angry and I inwardly curse myself. I shouldn't have said that. "Ashley," I raise my voice hoping to make her come back. Walking to the bottom of the stairs, I hear the bedroom door slam shut. She better not damage my door. "Get down here." I continue with the response I don't receive. "Now."

I hear her scoff. "Whatever."

I make my way upstairs and harshly push the bedroom door open. Ashley is standing in jeans and a bra. "God! Do you know how to knock?" she yells, holding her arms in front of her chest.

I look away immediately, forgetting what I was going to say for a second. "I'm sorry."

"I don't care."

My brows crease. "So, last week when you were an ass I accepted your apology but you won't accept mine?"

"That was different and you know it."

"Yeah, you're right. You completely freaked out over nothing and then avoided it when I asked you about it the next day. I had a point, even if I wasn't that nice about it."

She avoids looking over to the door where she knows I'm standing. I walk over to her and bring my hand up to her face, feeling it hurt more than before as I try to touch her. I think she felt it too, because her head snapped back like she was avoiding a bullet. Her body stumbles back a mere second after. "Was that you?"

"No, that was Jeff," I lie.

Ashley pales noticeably. "What?"

"It was me."

Her head lowers and her breaths regulate soon after. Raising her head a little shyly while holding her hand up, Ashley moves forward a little. "Do it again."

"Are you sure?" I ask softly.

"Yeah." She nods her head. "It just felt weird. But, if I ask you to stop, will you?"

"Of course."

I lift my hand up and place my palm in front of hers, closing some of the distance between them before I feel discomfort, and I think Ashley does, too. Her face is almost contorted in what appears to be pain.

"Are you okay?" I ask hastily, withdrawing my hand. I'd never forgive myself if I hurt her.

"It feels weird. I mean, I can't see you but I can hear you, and suddenly I can almost feel you…it's just a little -"

"Surreal; I know," I finish her sentence, moving my hand back toward hers.

The pins-and-needles sensation in my hand turns into steak knives going all the way up my arm, causing me to pull away sharply, my arm held to my chest protectively.

"Are you okay, did I hurt you?" Ashley asks quickly after hearing my gasp and small groan of discomfort before stepping closer to where I was previously standing.

"I'm fine," I choke out.

"Liar."

The pain is subsiding with each flex of my fingers. "It's going away now," I reply and suddenly notice Ashley standing three feet away without a top on and her arms held by her side. I allow my eyes travel from her neck, to her chest, and down to her taut stomach until I realise I'm checking her out. My throat clears as I look away.

"Why can't you touch me properly?" she asks softly. "You can touch everything else, right?"

"Yeah," I confirm. "I don't know why it's different with you." I chance a look at her face, my eyes accidentally scanning over her breasts on their way up. She looks confused. She's frowning. "What's wrong?" I ask.

"I don't even know what you look like and I…" she trails off.

"And what?" I prod after some silence.

"Nothing," Ashley responds, avoiding my question. "I should start getting ready, Tom will be here in a couple of hours."

Tom has a gay brother and I'm hoping just this once, it can be contagious. "Yeah, I have errands to run so I'll leave you to it." I walk toward the door. "What time are you leaving?" I turn around to ask.

"I told him to pick me up at five."

That's early for a date. What's wrong with seven-thirty or eight? "That's early," I comment.

She nods in agreement. "I know. He has plans to do something later."

I frown at her reply. "With you?"

"No. With a friend, or something."

I turn around to face her. "And you're still going?" I ask incredulously.

"Yeah," Ashley replies somewhat muffled as she pulls on a different top.

I don't press her on the topic. It probably isn't my place to. "I'll see you later, Ashley."

It's getting dark much earlier in the evening now, and much colder. I don't feel it, but I see people's breath leaving their lips in a cloud, I see people wearing scarves and gloves with their thick coats on, windows frosting up somewhat over night, the earth sparkling in the early morning sunlight.

It won't be long before the road I'm sitting by gets busy. You would think I'd hate cars, being that I died in one, but I don't. I saw the newspaper a couple of days after the accident. I saw my family's obituary's, including my own.

I've had almost a year to come to terms with it and it makes me feel closer to them when I sit here. I don't know if that's morbid, or not. I just know I don't care. I know it won't be long before I see them again. It can't be.

I'd never seen so many people at church before until it was the funeral. I'd never seen so many flowers. I'd never seen so many people looking solemn.

I didn't go in. I couldn't. I watched as people arrived on the parking lot, lots of them had to park on and down the street. I left as soon as I saw the bumpers for the formal cars driving around the corner. I walked off in the opposite direction as fast as I could, running soon after.

If it were under different circumstances I would have passed out from lack of oxygen as I cried. I haven't cried like that since, and I doubt I ever will.

As soon as I got back to the house -- just before six, to make sure Ashley had left -- I went about cleaning up the mess we had left in the living room earlier. She can be messy and I like things to be organised. It doesn't bother me how she is, it gives me something to do. I'm more than surprised when I see her walk through the door five minutes later at six-thirty. She sits next to me on the couch, something that happens frequently whether she notices or not. I don't make a sound for at least half a minute.

"Bad date?" I question, trying to feel bad when Ashley jumped, but how she's holding a hand to her chest is making me smile.

"God!"

"Sorry," I offer sheepishly.

After she recovers, Ashley's eyes roll before she reaches down to undo the zipper to her boots. She sighs in pleasure when her feet are free and wiggles her toes quickly.

"Why are you home so early?" I ask.

I get a shrug as an initial response. "I didn't want to miss you."

She has my undivided attention. "What?"

"Scaring my mom, you know?" she quickly rectifies.

"Yeah." I feel embarrassed. "Of course."

"Where did you go? I wanted to say bye before I left," she says softly.

I avoid that question and shrug. "Just around."

Her feet come up to rest underneath her on the comfortable couch, "Do you want to finish the movie?"

I throw her the remote as my response.