"She seemed dressed in all of me, stretched across my shame.

All the torment and the pain

Leaked through and covered me

I'd do anything to have her to myself

Just to have her for myself

Now I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do when she makes me sad.

She is everything to me

The unrequited dream

A song that no one sings

The unattainable, she's a myth that I have to believe in

All I need to make it real is one more reason

I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do when she makes me sad."

-Slipknot

The first entry on Alice's diary was made about four years ago.

"My name is now Alice. Turned 23 yesterday, and I feel about twice as old. A new town, a new job. Same face. Getting tired to this. Perhaps I should just give up? Don't know. Feeling depressed, exhausted. How many times am I gonna have to do this?"

Charles browsed the pages. After the first note, most of the entries were very short, only a few sentences. There were long periods without anything, and then there might be a note telling that she had "remembered to shop for milk, yay! No more black coffee!"

But even if there was nothing important, he read almost every entry, feeling guilty for doing it, but unable to stop.

It had been past midnight when he had returned from her dinner with Leonore, but his anxiety to read Alice's journal had cut away all his exhaustion. He had headed straight to his office, to his desk, pushed away all the essays and books, and opened the small leather covered notebook.

Reading her beautiful, old fashioned handwriting, was enough to bring tears to his eyes. He could hear her voice in his mind as his gaze followed the letters on paper, like she was talking to his mind.

"I've been here a year now. Getting too comfortable. I should start making plans, no doubt M. Is on my heels already. But I really like it here. Leonore is the best, I've never had a friend like her. It's gonna break my heart, when I have to leave her."

Who is M? Charles felt his interest stirring. This entry was made three years ago. He browsed forward through the pages, looking for that mysterious name, but found something else instead. The first time she mentioned him.

"Charles Xavier came to the coffee house today. He took notice of me, which was weird, but not unexpected. I am scared. I have to stop thinking about him. Talking to him would be like playing with fire, it would not end well."

And a few days after that, another.

"Why won't he just leave me be? I felt his eyes on me today, all the time. And his mind searching mine. Oh, how I hope I could forget everything, and just talk to him. Like any other girl. I bet he has a special someone in every diner in town, though. Damn, why do I care? I wish he'd go to hell. I wish I'd know what he wants with me."

"He asked me out again. Leonore thinks I should go, but she knows nothing. And I can't tell her, how could I? How could I tell her after four years? She'll hate me, I know it. As I do hate myself, for keeping all these secrets."

Charles poured himself a whisky without taking his eyes off the diary.

He found the notes he had wrote to her in the coffee house. She had carefully unfolded them and glued them all to her diary, with remarks like "Mr. Bed-me-eyes told me I looked pretty" or "Why won't he just give up? This makes me lose my mind!"

It was one thing to read Alice's entries concerning grocery shopping or visits to library, but reading her words about himself, made him feel like a peeping tom. Not the most noble feeling, even if he was somewhat used to it, being a telepath. The taste of whisky, the burning sensation that spread to his bloodstream, made him bolder, and so he turned the page to continue.

This entry was made a few weeks after he had first seen her, and reading it made his heart skip a beat.

"Last night I dremt of Charles. In my dream he held me in his arms, and kissed me, and his lips were just the way I had imagined. There was a fire inside of me, and he breathed into it. I wanted him so much, I wanted for him to rip off my clothes, to touch me everywhere… God, I want him out of my head! He's making me crazy by just looking at me! I should be out of this town already, soon it will be too late. I made all the preparations, why am I unable to go now? Damn Charles, damn Leonore. Damn it all, for holding me here. I will regret this."

Charles stopped reading, and took a break. A sip of whisky. He read the lines again.

"I made all the preparations" she had written. Preparations for what? For leaving, obviously. Charles bit his lip, and continued reading. Now there were notes from most of days, sometimes more than one.

"Stayed too long here. Should have left a year ago. M. has eyes everywhere. She must know about Xavier's school, and I'd be shocked if she didn't keep an eye on him. She will find me, I can feel it. But I don't want to leave everything again. Is it wrong to want to keep a friend? And a home? I hate this! Made a phone call today, to book a flight, but hang up. Oh, fuck this. I'm so scared, I couldn't eat anything today."

And then she was writing of him again, and Charles felt his insides melting as he read her words.

"I told him to sod off today, told him that I want nothing to do with him and his world. But the truth, that I can never tell, is that I want him. I want him. I want his hands on my skin. I want him between my thighs, and inside of me, every way I can Imagine. Just looking at him makes me high, intoxicated. I've never felt this way, and it's making me crazy! God, please, make this stop. Make him not to come back!"

It felt so wrong to read those words she had meant for herself only, but Charles could not help reading them again and again. He remembered last night, Alice in her arms, the way she had kissed him and begged for him to make love to her.

His blood felt hot inside his veins, and the dreadful longing to hold her, tore his soul and body.

By God, I have to find her. I need to find her. My body needs her like it needs oxygen!

The thought made his head high, and he tried to clear it by taking a gulp of his whisky. But reading the next lines was still no easier.

"I don't want to fall in love. Heaven help me! This will make everything a 1000 times harder."

Charles wanted to shout aloud. He wanted to take the diary and throw it out of the window, he wanted to smash his glass of whisky to the table and scream.

Why had Leonore insisted that he read this damn journal? This was pure torture. Alice had been falling in love with him, and now all he could do, was to read her goddamned diary.

They were supposed to be making love.

They should be together. She should be in his arms now.

He should be holding her by the waist, pulling her near, kissing her. His lips yearned to taste her skin.

But there was nothing he could do, nothing but to breath in and try to calm down, take some more whisky and read on. Luckily the next fewpages were not about him, and he found them somehow easier to read, even if they chilled him with their premonitions.

A week before she went missing:

"I'm almost certain someone followed me today. But he (or she?) was gone before I could reach their thoughts. I'm scared to go to work tomorrow, but I can't stay home either. I wish there was someone I could talk to."

And the last entry, only a couple of days before she was gone: "Decided not to leave. I cannot. I've had enough of that. Cancelled all the preparations. Come what may now, I'll stay. Perhaps it is time I pay for my deeds."

Charles read the last entry a dozen times before closing the book.

He only noticed he was crying, as tears fell to his hands that were still holding the diary.