This is very long, as far as Fitty chapters go. I hope there aren't too many complaints. Please, review this, my duckies of doom.
Oh, and for the tiny little thing at the end?
IT'S ALL STEPH'S FAULT!
Love Lolly.
- 8 -
Andy drove me over to the Mission the moment I asked him to. I was really sweetening up to him – he was a great guy for my mum. Stamped with the almighty Suze-Simon seal of approval and everything.
Once at said Mission, I thundered in with my guide stick, before stopping.
'Uh, Jesse?' I said gawkily, 'I just remembered. I'm blind. A little help with the directions?'
Jesse guided me swiftly and aptly to Father Dominic's office. Isn't it sad that even on school days, he's still stuck inside here? On a Saturday afternoon, too. Shouldn't he be out . . . I don't know, doing all things priestly, like preaching or fundraising, or walking on water or something?
Nope. He's in his office doing paperwork.
'Father Dominic,' I expressed, my voice loud and authoritve-like. 'We need to talk.'
'Susannah,' he sounded pleased, yet astounded. 'It's a weekend. What are you doing at sc – '
'Sister Maddy,' I cut him off. 'I'm here because of Sister Maddy. More precisely, Madelyn-Leigh Kosovic.'
Father Dominic swallowed, and started shuffling papers. 'I am not at liberty to disclose anything of the personal nature with you, Susannah,' he said regretfully, but firmly. 'At least, anything I believe you are thinking of. It was told to me in confidence by Sister Madelyn, and will remain that way.'
'How could you not tell me?' I demanded, now knowing that I was right. He had no idea that it had just been a hunch before; a hunch he'd now confirmed. 'How could you just let me believe she died because of me?'
Jesse, now finally guessing where I was going with all of this, let out a cautioning, 'Susannah.'
Then I clicked again.
'You knew about it too?' I asked hotly. 'You didn't tell me?'
'They were not my secrets to tell,' Jesse sighed. 'I could not betray the trust of Madelyn, no matter how important you are to me.'
Angrily, I sat down in the seat I could feel behind me. This was too much. Sister Maddy DIED, and they didn't bother to tell me that her death was an unfinished-business thing, and NOT my fault?
Well, great. That was SOOTHING FOR MY CONSCIENCE.
'I'm not moving until you tell me everything that I don't know about this guy,' I threatened with fierce tenacity. I crossed my arms to further emphasise this promise.
'Susannah, please,' Jesse tried to coax me out of the office, but I would not be distracted. He'd lied to me. So had Father Dominic.
And the priest wanted to know why I could NEVER TRUST HIM?
I FREAKIN' WONDER WHY, DOM!
'Suze,' a gentle voice said.
My eyes flicked open, hanging onto that word. My head twitched to the left a little. 'Maddy?
'Hey,' she said, in weak attempts to be the bubbly person I knew. 'Long time no see.'
'Not that long,' Jesse added secretively.
I jumped straight to the point. 'Why haven't you come to visit me?' I asked her.
Sounding repentant, she exhaled noisily. 'I thought it was best. I've been spending many hours in prayer, Suze. And after what happened the last time I was around you . . . I assumed you'd be safer for it.'
'No need to assume that,' I filled her in. 'Rhys Miller's found a nice body to get cozy in for the time being, so he wouldn't be fiddling with your head anymore.'
'I know. Father Dominic told me.'
'Madelyn,' the priest said kindly, 'I know Susannah is here, anxious to learn. But you don't have to tell her anything you are not ready to.'
'Don't I deserve to know?' I asked. 'Sorry, but I'm in this up to my elbows. I just – I just wish you guys would stop hiding things from me that you don't think I'll be able to handle. Like, the police report, or the – '
'Mierda!' Jesse swore bitterly.
After a questioning silence, he explained. 'Oh. Pardon me, Padre. I just realised . . . I would not read the ghost's police report to Susannah. She got curious, and took it elsewhere to have it read to her. Is that where you learned Madelyn's name, Susannah?'
'Yes,' I said distinctively.
Jesse sighed. 'Then this is my fault.'
'Hey, whoa,' I snapped. 'Look, can you stop point the blame at each other as to who let what slip, and just TELL me? It would make life a lot easier, you know! I need to know this crap, okay? This ghost, he's . . . sending me messages. He completely ripped apart Debbie Mancuso last night – '
'What?' Father Dominic's voice was one of horror. 'Is she alive?'
'Barely,' I scoffed. 'Paul interrupted him before he could get on to the murder part. But she's in a coma. And he says it's because of me.'
'Paul says?'
'No, Rhys does.'
'You've talked to him? How, Susannah?' the priest sounded devastated.
'He jumped me in the Coffee Clutch.'
Maddy whimpered, and I stopped talking quickly. Oh yeah. If she's been through what I think she's been through, then . . . this stuff wouldn't exactly be music to her ears.
'Madelyn, you should leave for the time being,' Father Dominic's voice softened. Then, referring to me again – I know, because his voice went all hard and impatient – he said, 'Susannah and I need to talk. I won't tell her anything you do not wish me to.'
'No,' Maddy breathed. Then, she coughed so her voice wouldn't crackle again. 'No. She . . . she's right. We need to tell her everything. Or . . . it could happen to her. Oh Father, I'd never forgive myself if he did it to her . . . '
My chest felt tight, all of a sudden.
Maddy sounded tormented. I heard a chair scrape, indicating her new seating location. 'This happened a long time ago,' she laughed nervously. 'Nine years ago. I was . . . only twelve.'
'God,' I said under my breath. I mean, I already knew it. But it just seemed so much worse, to get the confirmation straight from the victim's mouth.
'I was riding my bike to the cinemas to meet my friend, Emily. We were going to see the new Disney movie, the Hunchback of Notre Dame,' she said giddily. 'I saw Pocahontas the year before with her . . . and the Lion King the year before that. My Ma usually let me ride there on my own. I was old enough to go most places on my own. We lived outside the city. A forty five minute bike ride for me, down the freeway . . .
'Well, that particular day, I wasn't watching where I was going, and I rode into a big pothole. The potholes on our freeway were always horrible. I usually avoided them. I just didn't see that one.'
'I know the feeling,' I said sympathetically.
She clicked her tongue. 'Yes. Well, my bike went flying, and I went with it. I landed in the middle of the road nastily, and when I looked down at my knee, it was in a terrible mess. It was bleeding rather heavily. I started crying, because I was dead in the middle of where I wanted to be. I decided to walk home, because my knee was really hurting. So I got my bike and started limping back towards my house with it, when a car drove by.'
I heard a distinct irregularity in her breathing. 'It . . . was grey. I remember that. I've never known cars very well. But it was big. The man in the front seat was very good looking,' she lowered her voice to a whisper, 'And even though my knee was killing me, I was embarrassed. When he slowed, and asked if I was okay, I got very embarrassed. I felt stupid for falling. I told him I was okay. I said I'd just stacked it. But he . . . stopped the car. He offered me a ride, and I said no, because Ma wouldn't have liked it. He then wanted to know if I just wanted him to clean up all the blood.
'I shyly said yes. He got out of his car, and went to the trunk of the car, saying he was getting something out of his first aid box. I asked him is he was a doctor, and he said he was. I started saying stupid things, like how wonderful it would be to save lives and help people. He laughed. He told me to sit in the back seat. I guess I trusted him more, thinking he was a doctor.
'I sat on the edge of the back seat, dangling my legs over the side, and waiting for him to come back. He finally came back, with a damp handkerchief in his hand. It smelt funny. I asked him what it was, and he told me it was disinfectant. For my knee, he said. I went shy again, and looked away. He wasn't doing anything, though. When I looked back up, he was just staring at me. And then . . . ' Maddy sucked in a breath, 'He shoved the hanky against my mouth and nose. I couldn't breathe. I started thrashing around, but . . . he forced me further into the back seat. I don't remember what he did after that.
She stopped for a minute. 'I've had to tell this story so many times,' she revealed weakly. 'You'd think I'd be used to telling it by now. But . . . I don't think I'll ever get used to it. Telling it over and over again didn't even help,' she added ruefully. 'They only caught him after he was dead.'
'I'm so sorry,' I whispered. 'I can't believe . . . I mean, you were twelve. You were a baby, for Christ sake!'
She laughed hollowly. 'I know.'
'Go on,' I said quietly.
She resumed.
'When I woke up, I didn't know what was happening, or where I was. It was a basement of some kind. I had a massive headache, and I felt kind of groggy. I also felt very uncomfortable. Then, I tried moving, and realised that my h-hands and feet were t-tied up . . . ' her voice started to shake. 'And that there was a little video camera on a stand, just at the corner of the bed I was in. There was a little red light on. It was recording.'
My mouth fell open in abstract horror.
'And I started screaming for help,' she told me. 'And I was struggling, but the ropes around my wrists and ankles were very tightly knotted. They wouldn't loosen. I felt sick. I was more terrified that I'd ever been in my life. For good reason, too. Because then I saw him in the corner, just . . . watching me. He said the most awful things to me. How he'd been watching me. He said horrible things about my Ma. That I was only alive because she was a - a whore,' she whispered in terror. 'And that if she had have just stayed true to the Lord's ways, he wouldn't have to be teaching her such a dreadful lesson.'
My nails were digging into the foam armrests of my seat. I couldn't move; wouldn't speak. I could only listen.
And hate every word of it.
'He called my Ma other bad names,' Maddy sniffed. She was getting really upset. I could feel her pain. 'And then he . . . '
She didn't say the word. But we all knew what she meant.
We got it loud and clear.
'I thought I was going to die,' her voice was now broken with sobs that threatened to stop her story. 'When he was doing it. I know I wanted to. I was so, so scared. And I didn't understand why. I mean, I never knew my father, true. Ma had me when she was only seventeen. But I didn't see why anyone would do something so horrible to me because Ma had had a baby so young. After he . . . was finished, he got a knife, and he . . . cut me. On my . . . chest,' she said in a wobbly voice. 'I still have the scar.'
'A cross,' I filled in, traumatised.
'Yes. I think I passed out from fear. Then, when I woke up, I was in hospital. Ma told me that someone found me in a river, and that I'd . . . been asleep for a very long time. Eight months, to be exact,' she added. 'She was right. That WAS a long sleep . . . '
She trailed off, sounding distant. Like she was reliving it all. I wanted to give her a hug, but I was frozen solid in shock.
She'd lived through that . . .
Father Dominic coughed. 'Madelyn's mind was a mess, after that devastating event. Her counseling wasn't going well, and her mother brought her to me. Together, over many years, she learned to accept that what had happened had not been her fault, and that God had not abandoned her. She became so devoted to God, in fact, that she became a sister of the Lord. Madelyn has a beautiful way with people. She's an incredibly giving young woman, and I'm so proud of how much she's grown through her hardships.'
Maddy's voice was crying, now. 'You say it all like . . . like I'm still alive, Father . . . I'm not. He . . . got to me in the end. He made me commit a mortal sin. Suicide is an offence against God - '
'We've talked about this,' Father Dominic said firmly. 'You did nothing wrong, Madelyn.'
I lowered my face. My hands were still plastered against the armrests of the chair.
'I'm so sorry,' I said again. 'That you had to experience that . . . ' I finally lifted my hand away, and wasn't surprised to find that it was shaking slightly. I held it against my mouth, pressing against my fingers.
'We're going to stop him, Maddy. I swear to God, I'm going to stop him for you . . . '
- 8 -
Andy, who'd been waiting very patiently outside the Mission, drove me home straight away. I didn't say a word to him.
I couldn't.
Carefully making my way up to the front door by means of my lovely guide stick, I knocked very hard on it to alert all that I was home and needed the door opened, since it seemed to be locked.
Mum answered. 'Hey baby,' she said, sounding flustered. 'Hang on, I'll just move Max, he's asleep in the doorway . . . '
I heard a sleepy little grumble, and then slow panting. Then a tongue attacked my hand. I boredly patted Max's head, before pushing past into the kitchen.
Mum, putting on that special voice she did when she had VERY good news, happily said, 'Andy made chocolate cake, Grandma's recipe. Want me to dig out some vanilla ice-cream?'
I shook my head numbly. 'I'm . . . not hungry.'
Obviously put off by this hardly positive reaction, Mum sighed. 'You love your chocolate cake, Suze. Why aren't you excited, like usual?'
'Huh?' I raised my eyebrows, not hearing her properly. 'Oh. Uh, I dunno.'
Mum didn't reply. She started rifling through the freezer - it could have been the fridge, but I doubt the ice-cream would be in there - and then plonked something on the kitchen table. Then, she went and retrieved something else even more mysterious. I learned quickly that it was a plate.
'Something's wrong,' she analysed, sounding fretful. 'You've been acting funny for days. Sometimes really happy, sometimes really down. It's been on my mind a lot, and I've come to the conclusion that I don't get you.'
'Thanks,' I laughed humourlessly.
She sighed. 'Smile. Suze. You're getting cake whether you like it or not.'
I smiled cheesily, showing as many teeth as I could, before dropping the face as quickly as I'd put it on. I knew that wasn't what she'd been after, but I didn't feel like smiling. Not after what I'd heard about Maddy that day.
Who could smile after hearing THAT?
'What's wrong?' she wanted to know. 'You're not having problems at school, are you? Is the work too hard? Are the teachers explaining things you don't understand? Because Father Dominic assured me that they'd accommodate you as best as they - '
'The teachers are good,' I cut her off. 'They're fine.'
'Then what's wrong? I know something is. My spidey-senses are tingling.'
'Oh, God. My mum used a pop culture reference,' I said to no one in particular. Then, addressing her again, I responded, 'I'm fine.'
'No,' she murmured, unsure, but then definitely, 'No. No, something's wrong. I know it. I demand to know, missy.
I honestly thought about telling her. Did she really want to know that the ghost of a guy she'd reported about on her WCAL channel wanted to kill me, and that he'd possessed the most popular guy at my school? And that my recently dead guide nun didn't in fact kill herself, but was murdered by the said ghost who'd possessed said popular guy at my school?
Did she want to know, in detail, what he'd done to my recently dead guide nun?
. . . No. Not only would she not believe me, but she wouldn't want to know. Because then she'd worry. About my mental health or my life, I'm not for sure, but she'd worry.
I didn't want that. She didn't want to worry about me more than she already had to. You know . . . Will my daughter walk blindly in the path of an oncoming train? Will she make any big transactions of money and receive the wrong change? Will someone call her Helen Keller, and provoke her to attack them with her stick again?
The usual.
Setting a plate in front of me, she stroked my hair. 'You don't talk to me anymore,' she said mournfully. 'Ever since we moved here, you don't tell me things. Do you . . . do you think I'll tell Andy? Is that it? Because you know I wouldn't, Suze.'
I started eating my chocolate cake and ice-cream. It was great. I just wasn't tasting it much.
'Don't ignore me,' she said, her voice soft. She kept stroking my long hair with her fingers. 'Talk to me, Suze.'
'You don't want to know,' I muttered under my breath.
'Huh?'
'I'm fine,' I said louder. 'I really am. If there were problems I wanted you to know, I'd tell you. Some things I just need to deal with on my own. For pride's sake, mum.'
She stopped stroking my hair, scowling. 'You and your pride,' she sounded bitter. 'Pride's a sin, you know.'
I asked, impassively, 'Are you calling me a sinner, mum?'
She made no reply, only sighed some more. My mum sighs a lot when I'm around. I'm very much so sigh-inducing.
Hah. Even my mum thought I was a sinner.
It wasn't even funny, what I'd said. I mean, it was nothing to joke about. Someone who was very dangerous and VERY capable of hurting me had christened me that.
And yet, for that one moment, I was numb to that fact.
It felt good, too. To forget Rhys was what he was. God knows if Rhys Miller didn't exist, I'd smile for mum. I'd smile for her as much as she wanted.
I was making my way slowly through my chocolate cake. Andy really did make it nice. It was different to Grandma's . . . but nice in a different way. Andy's was more dense, and slightly moist. I quite liked it like that.
'Where's Jake?' I asked suddenly. 'I want to - ask him something.'
It was actually, whether Paul had pressed charges for Jake punching him or if he'd laid off them. If he hadn't, I'd be having words with Mr. Slater.
Sounding a little irritated that I'd chosen my step-brother to talk to over her, mum answered in clipped tones, 'He's out. I'd think it safer not to talk to him at the moment. He's very, very crazy at the moment.'
Intrigued by my new sibling's psychosis, I asked her to elaborate. I was being distracted from the horrible things that Maddy had revealed. This was a good thing. Already, I could feel my mood lifting.
As long as I didn't think about it . . .
She groaned. 'You know how boys are about their cars. Jake's paying for his today. He's been saving up for it for a long time, Andy tells me. But still . . . don't let him corner you. He'll talk your ear off about its "sweet wheels".'
I smirked. 'Yeah. Guys can get kind of goo-goo about their cars.'
Clanging random kitchenware that she was putting away, mum let out long sigh of weariness. Obviously, Jake was sigh-inducing too. Darn him for his sigh-inducing talents. 'Well, we've got a week to put up with his new-car enthusiasm. Then he should have settled down by then.'
I sniggered, when the door slammed open, and I heard a victorious Tarzan yell.
'YES! I, JACOB ACKERMAN, OWN A 1967 CHEVROLET CAMARO!' he roared throughout the house, ecstatic. 'Brad! Come check her out!'
I heard the rambunctious sloth that was Brad, tumbling down the stairs. 'What colour, man?'
'Red,' Jake sounded exceptionally pleased with himself. 'Mum, come on - '
'If I'm not back in an hour, come rescue me,' Mum sighed humourously.
'Wait. Did he just call you 'Mum'?' I asked, dumbfounded.
I couldn't bear to call Andy 'Dad.' It just seemed weird that Jake called my Mum his Mum. I mean, I was willing to share . . . with him. And Dave. Definitely not Brad.
Just weird . . .
'Yeah,' Mum giggled. 'I know. It sounds strange to me too.'
'Good. So it should. No guy's ever called you that before. Unless it was in a kinky way. And even then, it wouldn't be that flattering - '
'MUM!'
'Okay, I'm coming!' Mum called, laughing. 'Want to come and pretend to see it, Suze? Humour Jake?'
I shrugged. 'Okay.'
I walked out the front with her. Jake was babbling to Brad in frenzy, using technical car-code that we mere women were never meant to comprehend. I raised my eyebrows. 'Doesn't look that impressive.'
'What?' Jake was horrified. 'She's a dream, Suze! She - ' he broke off. 'Oh. But - but if you could see it, you'd have to agree. She calls to me. She wants to be driven.'
This was very uncharacteristic for Jake to be this . . . awake. I giggled a little. 'She seducing you, Jake?'
Sounding wistful, Jake said, 'Yeah . . . '
'She's lovely, Jake,' Mum said with a chuckle, humouring him as she'd promised to do. 'The red is a really good colour.' Then waiting the socially polite ten seconds, she went inside. Mum wasn't exactly a car fan.
'Can I borrow it sometime?' Brad begged pathetically. 'Please, please - '
'Her,' Jake corrected with fierce defensiveness. 'She is not an it, Brad. You talk about her like she's some object.'
'And you talk about her like she has a vagina,' I pointed out.
Jake paused for a second, as if trying to decide whether to rage and storm me for offending his 'girl.' Then he laughed, loosening up. 'Want to come for a ride, Suze? Then you'll understand that she's a thing of beauty.'
'You're really in love with this car, aren't you,' I mused. 'I hope you two are using protection.'
'Very funny,' he drawled sarcastically. 'Come on.'
'Okay,' I consented.
'No!' Brad cried in disgust, 'She can't even SEE the damned thing! She can have a go later, just let me take her for a drive - '
'You are not,' Jake spat in a deadly voice, 'Driving my car.'
Jake guided me to the car in that guy-ish way that awkward guys do. I mean, Paul would use it as an excuse to touch me. Jake, being kind of related now, just gently tapped my back occasionally, worried about having too much contact with his new step-sister. It was kind of funny, actually.
Getting in the passenger seat and putting my guide stick on the back-seat, I smiled. 'Smells good.'
'I know,' Jake said, toning down the excitement a little. As he started the car and reversed, I heard Brad yodel, 'You SHITHEAD. You're a TRAITOR, man! And - and you're WHIPPED!'
Jake wound down the window for a moment, advised Brad to read between the lines, and then wound it back up, before driving off.
When I say driving off, I really mean it. Jake sped up the street. I squeaked in shocked delight, hastily putting my seat belt on.
'Sorry,' he apologised quickly. 'Just . . . she's mine, finally. Saved up since I was sixteen, and I dipped way into my college fund. Grams helped a bit, but don't tell Dad. Okay, I'll . . . calm down.'
I felt him decelerate, and I breathed out in relief. I knew we were near traffic - I could hear honking - and I didn't want to die in a car wreck.
'I'm gonna take her on Seventeen Mile Drive, kays?' he told me the plan.
'Whatever,' I replied. 'I'm good.'
'Wind down the window,' he suggested. 'Let her breathe a bit.'
I did as I was asked, relishing the lovely feel of the wind on my face. Unfortunately, it was a little forceful so I had to take the rose from my hair out, or it would have blown away.
'What's with the flower?' Jake asked after a second. 'You don't wear flowers usually. Too girly for you, I'd have thought.'
A little smile crept on my face, and I left his question hanging.
Jake was a good driver. I mean, I could feel it. He obviously enjoyed it too.
'She handles so well,' he cooed. He really was in a good mood. Then, after a moment more of silence, he clicked something, and before I knew it, music was blasting throughout the car. I jumped, and covered my ears. 'WHAT THE HELL?' I yelled over the noise.
'IT'S ZEPPELIN,' he shouted back. 'Do NOT tell me that you do not HONOUR him!'
'OKAY, I WON'T,' I cried over the volume. 'CAN I ASK YOU SOMETHING?
'WHAT?'
'CAN I ASK YOU SOMETHING?'
'OH.' He turned the music down considerably. 'Go ahead.'
'Paul Slater,' I said, still hearing the riff in my head. Ow, my poor assailed eardrums . . .
Jake grunted. 'What about him?' He stopped. 'Has he - Suze, if he's done anything - '
'No,' I shook my head quickly. 'I just wanted to know - is he still serious about charging you for punching him?'
'Oh. Uh, I don't know. I don't think so. Haven't heard anything from the cops, so probably not.'
Yeah. Fair enough. He hadn't exactly been himself lately, so he wouldn't have remembered to pursue it. At least Jake was safe from the law, now.
'Okay,' I said. 'Good.'
He suddenly didn't sound quite as bubbly about his Camaro. Looked like our conversation had hit a touchy subject for him. 'He treating you all right at school?'
I smiled dully. 'Yeah.'
I mean, PAUL was. Psychotic sexually violent murderers on the other hand? Not so much.
'So, what went on with you two?' he pried. 'You were kind of crying too hard to tell me that day.'
'I don't really want to talk about it.'
Jake grumbled knowingly. 'Okay, okay. I've got a pretty good idea, anyway. He's kind of got a rep. Just as long as you stay away from him these days. He's not good for you.'
You sound like Jesse, I thought.
They were both right, though. I mean, despite Paul's elaborate apologies, he wasn't the type of guy that I'd fall in love with. Or even really be attracted to.
Up until the point he started kissing me, that is. That part was pretty attractive.
I felt him turn a corner sharply. 'I'm just gonna show my baby to a friend, is that cool?' he checked offhandedly.
'Go for it.'
Instead of parking like a regular human, he stopped the car and started honking like a madman, yelling, 'IAN! GET OUT HERE!'
'Shut up Jake, he's coming!' a woman's voice screamed in response.
'Sorry Mrs Livermore,' Jake apologised.
I heard footsteps running around whatever house we were in front of. Then they stopped, and the uproar.
'Fuck! Jake, man, AWESOME wheels!' Ian, apparently named, had run up to the car and was hammering on the roof of the car. Jake was laughing and beeping the horn in a celebratory manner. 'I know, hey.'
'Who's your chick?' Ian wanted to know.
'My sister,' Jake introduced me genially. 'Suze.'
'You don't have a sister,' Ian said suspiciously.
'Step-sister,' I made the correction. 'His dad married my mum.'
'Shit,' Ian whistled. 'Remind me to get my mum to remarry a guy with a daughter. Who's into incest.'
Jake groaned. 'Gross, man.' Ian laughed like a hooligan, and then promptly jumped in the backseat. 'Hey, hey!' Jake snapped, 'What are you doing?'
'Exploring your 'spacious' backseat,' Ian replied sarcastically, 'And hitching a ride. Come on, Jake, show me what this baby can do.'
Jake, apprehensive, asked me, 'Is that okay Suze?'
'Yeah, fine,' I smiled, trying to act cool. Ian was kind of weird for me, but he was Jake's friend, so he couldn't be too bad.
Jake's hand touched the back of my head. He must have been about to reverse - which he did, promptly after that thought flitted through my brain.
Then, Jake sped off at absolutely high speeds, tearing out of the street. 'Seventeen Mile Drive?'
Ian whooped in agreement. 'Shit, yeah!'
Jake was off, zipping through streets, terrifying me out of my mind. I didn't let it show though. Although I doubted that his father would approve of his reckless driving.
'So,' Ian said casually, when Jake had finally stopped revving the engine, 'Suze. You're a senior?'
'Junior,' I rectified.
'They get hotter every year,' he said happily. I flushed a little, embarrassed. Ian laughed. 'I go to RLS, so that's why you probably haven't seen me around,' he said smoothly.
Jake snorted. 'Not much chance of that, hey Suze.'
'Hmm,' I agreed, with a smirk on my face.
'You know Kelly Prescott?' Ian asked me.
'Sort of. I'm kind of new.'
'You don't like her?'
'Uh - '
'Yeah, she's a real bitch, isn't she?' Ian laughed. 'She's been begging your big brother to take her out since birth, hasn't she, Jakey?'
Jake revved the car, and wound down the window a little, so air thumped though the car very loudly. I winced a little, until my ears got used to the constant sound.
'Shut up.'
Ian cackled in the backseat. 'Jeez, Ackerman,' he whined. 'There's like, no room for making out back here.' Then, changing his tone, he said, 'Well, I could be wrong. Want to help me test that theory, Suze?'
I giggled uncomfortably.
'Lay off, man,' Jake growled. 'She's like, my sister.'
'I'm just kidding,' Ian's voice was frivolous. 'Suze knows I'm kidding, don't ya babe?'
'Uh . . . '
I then felt his arm, from the back seat, come around my shoulder boldly. His hand rested on my arm. I was very conscious of the fact that his thumb rested on my breast, though. Then, in my ear, he whispered something very random. I could feel his lips on my ear, even. My heart went all thuddy. I felt nervous.
'You know that I have a six inch tongue and I can breathe through my ears?'
I frowned. What the . . . ?
He found my obvious confusion very amusing. Then, the penny dropped.
'Eww,' I pulled away from him, and shoved his arm off of my. 'Guess what? You also have a vein connected to your ass - which is obviously where that shitty pick up line just came from. Wow, your bodily functions are phenomenal.'
This response surprised him - pleasantly, it seemed. He cracked up. 'Yeah, I am pretty amazing that way. You know I saved a girl's life the other day?'
I raised my eyebrows, finding this hard to believe, but curious all the same. 'How?'
'She was choking. So I very bravely pulled this ten inch piece of meat out of her mouth - '
Jake groaned.
I wrinkled my nose. Eww . . . this guy was a pig.
Jake was still going a million miles per hour. His window was down fully now. He sped up a little, and I heard the screech of his tires.
'Wanna hook up some time, Suze? It'd be fun.'
'Sorry,' I replied, sounding the least sorry I ever had in my life, 'I'm seeing someone.'
Oh, the irony in that sentence.
Jake sniggered, getting the humour. Then suddenly, he was all, 'Hey – what?'
However, Ian was quick to interrupt.
'What's this stick doing in the back?' he asked curiously. Then, performing an action that involved the end of my stick hitting against the roof, he cried out exultantly, 'Look, man! I GOT WOOD! Haha, look how long this fucker is!'
My cheeks became very hot.
'Hey!' Jake did something - I think he smacked my stick away from Ian. Good. I didn't want my stick anywhere near HIS genitals - 'Stop being a freak. That's her guide stick, you dickhead.'
. . . I was hoping he wouldn't have had to mention that.
'Guide stick?' Ian repeated with a scoff. 'What the hell's she doing with a guide stick? Is that kind of like, a dildo for beginners, or something? Because if so, I REALLY like your step-sister - '
He stopped talking, suddenly. 'Oh . . . shit.'
I turned my head towards the window, and sighed. 'You're a lot slower than everyone else usually is.'
'Shit,' he sounded really sheepish. 'Aww man . . . I'm so sorry.'
'You,' Jake said, rather savagely, 'are an idiot.'
I didn't mind that much. I found it slightly funny, actually. I mean . . . everyone's reaction was like this when they realised I was blind. You know . . . overly apologetic. When they realised I wasn't like them. Wasn't normal.
Then they'd start acting differently around me.
Jake came to a sudden stop. I jerked forward, and thanked God I had a seatbelt on.
'You. Out,' he grunted at Ian.
'What!' his outrage was apparently. 'This is like, four miles from my house! Don't be a jackass!'
'Get out of my freakin' car,' Jake snapped. 'Now.'
Sulkily, Ian climbed out the open window. I know - his foot caught on my seatbelt. 'How was I supposed to know she was blind?' he wanted to know. 'And I said I was sorry –
The Chevrolet's engine, however, roared with life as Jake accelerated quickly, leaving Ian in its dust.
Jake, sounding very guilty, muttered, 'I'm really sorry about him. I didn't think he'd be such a - ' Then, thinking my ears were too fragile for the foul words he had in mind, ended his sentence with, ' . . . jerk.'
'You didn't have to kick him out for me,' I said.
'Yeah. I kinda did,' he answered heavily. 'He thinks he's like, Casanova or something. What'd he whisper to you?'
I told him.
'I'm gonna kill him,' Jake's voice sounded tense. 'He's a dead man.'
Oooh. Just the way I like 'em.
'Anyway,' Jake's tone turned to a condemnatory one, 'What the hell's this about you seeing a guy? In the sense of, dating someone?'
Now, instead of saying something sensible like, "I was only joking," or a joke to get him to shut up, like, "Who said it was a guy I panicked, and blabbered quickly, 'Oh, uh - you wouldn't know him.'
'I know a lot of people,' Jake's voice went deeper as he got more and more suspicious, 'Try me.'
'It's my own business,' I snapped.
'It's not Slater, is it?' he demanded coldly, sounding positively disgusted. 'Because if it is, then I gave you a lot more credit than you deserve - '
'It's NOT Paul,' I assured him heartily. 'His name's . . . Nigel.'
'Oh.' Jake, sounding astonished. 'Oh, okay.'
Yeah. No one suspects a Nigel.
- 8 -
When Jake had had enough joyriding, we returned to our humble abode. He walked me upstairs and dumped me in my room, before continuing on to his own. I smiled a little. Jake really was a cool big brother to have.
However, in the confines of my bedroom, thoughts start penetrating the good time I'd just had, joyriding with my step-brother.
The thoughts continued all the way up until twelve o'clock that night, after I was showered and dressed in my boxers and camisole. Until that time, I couldn't place what this feeling inside of me was. It made me terribly uncomfortable. When mum came and kissed me goodnight, telling me the time though, it suddenly clicked.
Twelve o'clock.
Maddy had only been twelve.
The story she'd told me had terrified me.
More than I was willing to admit.
Suddenly in my bed, an inexorable sob brewed its way to the surface, cracking what had been a very strong demeanour until that exact moment.
I just lost it. I really did. I guess everything was catching up with me. The fear, the panic, the dread, the feeling that he was following me, and the prospect that he'd hurt the people I loved the way he had hurt Maddy. Or hurt me that way.
Shivering took its hold on me, and I just cried noiselessly from pure fear. I'd never felt more scared in my life. I don't know why. I was safe in my bed.
But unexplainable as it was, I lost myself to fear.
Then, as if he'd felt my pain from wherever he'd been, Jesse materialised.
'Susannah?' he gasped, shocked to find me in such a state. 'What's happened, querida?'
And he was scooping me up, dropping consoling kisses on my forehead. I just cried into his chest. No matter how much this guy wanted me to stay safe, he wouldn't be able to do a thing if Rhys wanted me as badly as he seemed to.
Rhys Miller's desire to inflict seemed to be even stronger than Jesse's will to protect.
And that was what terrified me.
Jesse wouldn't be able to save me from this guy.
I hate it when I cry. I just . . . hate people knowing that I'm afraid. That I'm vulnerable. That they can hurt me the way they try to. I try to seem unaffected by things. I try so hard. But everything now was just piling up, and it was suffocating me. I couldn't breathe from this fear. All of it was encompassing me, like walls that were closing in on me.
And I couldn't breathe.
'Why is this happening?' I urged to know, anger peppering my near hysterical state. 'Can't . . . can't someone else stop him? Why did he have to pick me? Is it because I'm a mediator? Because I don't want it anymore! I can't . . . I can't do this! I'm not strong enough to do this. I'm scared – '
'I know.' Jesse's arms pulled me tighter against him, and his hand netted itself into my hair. Tears were staining his shirt with terrified wetness. My whole body shuddered in my crying. I was torn between scalding heat and freezing cold.
'Make it stop,' I begged, appealing to him with spilling eyes, 'I don't want it anymore – '
'To be a mediator?' he queried, a note of doubt penetrating his sympathy.
'Yes,' I whimpered. 'I don't want – '
I terminated my sentence, suddenly horrified. 'No,' I shouted, 'No, I – then . . . then I wouldn't have you. And I – '
Life without Jesse? That thought terrified me more than Rhys Miller did.
Jesse kissed the top of my head with bittersweet slowness, before just holding me again. I buried my face against his neck, crying harder. I couldn't stop. I'd been bottling it up, now. Since I'd first heard about Rhys Miller, the fear had been building. Those times I'd cried after Paul's deceit, and when Rhys had first possessed Paul's body, had been reactive.
This . . . was different. No event had brought these on. Just the realisation that a very bad man was going to do very bad things to me, and I couldn't stop it.
It had been threatening to swallow me whole.
And it had just started biting.
'Susannah,' Jesse's voice sounded breathless. 'Please . . . tell me what I can do . . . don't cry like this.'
The way his voice sounded then was heartbreaking. My crying was hurting him. He didn't know what to do, but he wanted to do something to make me stop. Even with that pressure on my to cease my crying, I couldn't. It wasn't in my power to. Fear was in control, not me.
My arms were desperately clinging to him, as if someone was trying to take him away from me. Some juvenile fear in the most shadowed part of my mind was afraid that they'd heard my pleas for my mediator powers to be stripped of me. I didn't want that. I didn't want to lose Jesse. I didn't want another sense to be stolen from me, no matter what the cost was.
My fifth sense was my lifeline to Jesse. Without it, all others wouldn't mean anything anymore. I would never be able to feel him, breathe him in, taste his kiss or hear his voice any longer.
He'd truly be dead to me.
That was a fate that seemed even worse than my own death: his.
'Querida,' he was edging along the realms of despair now. 'Querida . . . please . . . what can I do? Tell me, please!' He kissed the top of my head with prolonged mourning.
'. . . I can't just watch you cry. Not like this . . . '
My legs were twisted with his, by now. His hands, clueless as to how to soothe my suffering, smoothed down my back with aching slowness. A gasp hit my sobs like an oncoming train, and I regained composure for split second.
Now, trying hard to fight the possessive fear and free myself from the entrapping pain, I breathed. For Jesse, I had to stop crying. For Jesse.
I lifted my head from the crook of his neck, stifling infrequent sobs. Fear would not have me.
My lips were trembling. They were cold, and smeared with tears from my crying. My whole face felt clammy from my moment where I'd let the darkness scare me.
'Don't –' I shuddered, 'Don't go . . . '
'Wouldn't dream of it,' he wiped my eye with a calloused thumb.
'Stay . . . ' I breathed. 'With me.'
He didn't reply to that with words, but his lips claimed my own in a gentle, chaste kiss that dove so deep into me, it grazed my soul with its pure intent. My moaned into his mouth, shaking from the overwhelming affect it had had on my body.
He shifted, so he was leaning over me. I dragged my hand up his arm, feeling the friction between my skin and his shirt. His leg came between mine, moving his body partially over mine. I was between his strong arms, as his hands smoothed my face and hair as he kissed me on a level that touched me so very deeply.
And then, things picked up the pace.
We hadn't anticipated it – we couldn't have. I just . . . forgot everything, and what we were, and what we weren't, and just . . .
Surrendered.
It was the coward's way out, I know. Instead of feeling the pain, I went for the solace.
My kiss's return swelled in its intensity, and I dragged him against me. The cold that was trying so hard to engulf me was chased away by our created heat. I sighed his name loudly, wanting him to want me the way I wanted him then.
It wasn't pretty, and it wasn't sophisticated. It was just . . . needed. And raw. And fierce.
It was as if, in this moment of offering me comfort, he'd forgotten himself. Everything he was about, and everything he protected me against. All of it was lost to this kiss.
'I love you,' he promised me. 'Querida . . . '
Words were too slow a form of expression. I had no care for them then. I was begging for expressions that satisfied another sense . . .
I needed to feel him, with me; around me; beyond me. I hungered for it. It was bad that I needed it as badly as I did then. Nothing good could come from that desire.
But we couldn't stop it.
My shaking hand raked down his back, and selfishly, fueled by the hunger that would not go away, I dragged his shirt up with it. The other hand joined in my quest, as I pulled his shirt off. I needed it off. He did too. He sat up on his knees for a moment, and when he was over me again, I could feel the starkness of his chest against me. Then, I felt him bury his lips against my neck, kissing there in such a way that made me ache for him even more.
A gasp, which could have been interpreted as pain, slid from my mouth. Similarly, a horrible feeling in my stomach started. I couldn't place it – guilt? It passed, though. Jesse, however, pulled away.
'Susannah . . . I – this offends you, I'm sorry – '
'No,' I said in panic. 'No, it doesn't. I want . . . I want this.'
'But you are so – '
I wouldn't let me tell him what I excessively was, instead pulling his face back down to mine, kissing him with a passion that threatened to tear me apart. It seared through me with the heat of hell. One of his hands slid to the nape of my neck, supporting my head and smoothing over my face with his thumb. Then, my hands, minxes that they were, glided down his back. His inexplicable body heat made me flush, putting me in more danger here. I could feel slight moisture on across his skin. How . . . how could a ghost feel like that?
My hands slid past his waist, and to the buckle of his belt, where they inexpertly tried to undo it. I could hear the muffled clanging beneath his body.
He realised what I was doing. 'Susannah . . . ' he growled slightly. Not in warning, or anything. Because of something else. 'We should not do this. I could not . . . '
'You – ' I kissed him, trying to get air, 'You can. We can. Please.' I finally got the belt undone, and slid it off. 'I love you.'
'I – ' he broke off also, returning my kiss. 'Susannah, I know. But . . .'
He trailed off. Then, goosebumps emerged across my arms in horror. Oh my God. He . . . he just didn't want, to, plain and simple. He didn't want me like I did him them. And I was putting pressure on him.
'Oh,' I said, my voice heavy. 'I'm sorry . . . oh God . . . sorry. You don't want to. I get that. I mean, I can understand why. I'm not exactly – ' I just shut up, feeling humiliated. ' . . . Sorry.'
'No,' Jesse said quickly. 'It's not that.' To emphasise that, he added a heartfelt, 'Believe me when I say it's not that, querida. Just . . . Padre was so angry at the thought of this. I could not – and mi Dios. Against my God, Susannah, I couldn't. Relations of this nature before marriage are unheard of, in my faith. If I could marry you, I would. But, this? Now? As we are? My God would surely not smile upon it – '
'Jesse,' I breathed, running my hands up his sides. He shivered visibly, and bit back what looked like a gasp. I continued doing that, using his sensitivity against him. 'Is your God a nice guy?'
'What do you mean?'
'Is he a cruel God?'
'No! He is definitely not a – '
'My point,' I replied, not blinking. I couldn't see where I was looking, but whatever the direction it was, I was holding my gaze intently. 'Then I don't believe in Him anymore. Because if He was real, He would never be so cruel as to let me fall in love with you, and then not able to be with you fully.'
'Oh, Susannah,' he sighed, sounding torn.
'He's thrown enough crap at me already,' I persisted. 'I've been incurably blind since birth; a ghost came back from the grave to make my life hell, and the only guy I'll ever love is dead. Correct me if I'm grievously wrong, but don't you think He owes me something?'
Jeez. The way I put it there, it made it sound like I was just using Jesse to wage a war against God.
'But dangling this in front of my face . . . ' I went on, 'That's not a mysterious way. That's downright cruelty.'
Jesse kissed my face. 'Susannah, when I first died I was angry at God, angry that He kept me here and didn't bring me to judgment. But then – then He sent me you. You're right, if He did not mean for this, then . . . I don't know what to believe anymore.'
I shuddered as I breathed in air. Jesse's weight on me was only partial, so it wasn't that that was affecting me so. It was . . . this. All of this. What I wanted so badly to happen, and what Jesse was finally coming around to.
'Believe me,' I assured him. 'We're not doing anything wrong. And you're not taking advantage of me or anything. This is me, officially consenting: Yes.'
Jesse, hanging off every word I'd said up until that moment, bowed his head against mine, so our cheeks were touching. I could feel his breath, hot and fast, in my hair. It made my neck heat up drastically. 'All right . . . '
And it was like, after that word, he didn't have a single thought of doubt. He was too far gone, and so was I. I peeled my camisole off as quickly as I could, and the feeling of his chest against mine gave me this uncanny sense of happiness. I exhaled gustily, loving him more than life itself. Loving what he was doing for me . . .
My breathing became even quicker. He kissed me urgently, sliding a hand lingeringly up my arm, around my shoulder and then down the side of my body. I moaned for him. Just . . . the way he did it. He didn't want to rush me. Like he just wanted to take a moment to revel in how I felt.
That prospect, that he could take such pleasure in exploring me, thrilled me beyond logic.
Finally, my hands were courageous to meet on the rim of his pants, before pushing them down. After taking a sharp breath to prepare himself, he rolled off of me and presumably, removed them himself. I know, because when he came over me again, his legs were bare. His kiss was one of such purity, that I almost cried out from how good it felt. I loved him so much it hurt.
I won't be a liar and say I wasn't scared. I mean . . . I was. This, after all, was the thing that Rhys Miller punished so severely. Of course I was scared. He seemed a little scared, too. He wasn't shaking like I was, but his breath was very ragged when he sat above me, his hands over mine as I took my pajama boxer shorts off.
By then, I was really anxious. I mean, I badly wanted this. I wanted to show him how much I loved him. But what if I didn't like it? What if I hated it?
Jesse ran his hands over me, and breathed out a breath I knew he'd been holding for a long time - I know, I was monitoring his breathing carefully. 'Dios,' his voice went VERY low, 'You feel so beautiful.'
I got an idea, suddenly. One that might have made him happy. 'Do you want me to astral project, Jesse? Because my soul isn't blind when I astral project, and I won't have the flaws I do now.'
'No,' Jesse said firmly. 'I don't want only a part of you; a perfect part. I want you like this. Imperfections are perfect in themselves to me, querida.'
I blinked, and a giddy smile emerged across my face.
This was it.
This . . . was it.
- 8 -
Please review. And just know . . . that was not my intention. It just happened. And after the approval of three Fitty readers, I decided to go ahead with it. So be kind.
Lolly.
(If you don't approve, and you want the names of those people...I'll get in touch with you... haha. Kidding.)
