Chapter Thirty-Six

NOVEMBER 2007

I could feel every beat of my heart, as if it was pumping in my ears. I breathed steadily, trying to ignore it. I would open my eyes every now and then, and then close them. Slowly, steadily…

These were some of the only remaining things I had control over.

I inhaled again, to the beat of my heart pumping, keeping my eyes closed.

I didn't want to wake up.

In articles, books, or any other form of literature or media, they never tell you about after. After the discovery, after calm has been claimed.

They don't speak about what you feel after.

"She's dead, sir…yes…I felt for her pulse…yes…come quickly."

They don't mention that, after the tears, after the hysteria, after the hyperventilation…when you've finally sat down and accepted that it happened, that those things just fade away.

That, just like energy, they are converted.

Turned into blind hate.

Autopilot. When in reference to human psychology, it is defined as a cognitive state in which you act without self-awareness.

I smoothed the covers on my old bed once more.

I was on 'autopilot'.

The last few days had been torturous. Consuming. Emotionally draining. I'd made a lot of decisions, and I'd hurt a lot of people.

And I didn't even really notice.

I was past caring. I was apathetic. My mother was gone. The person I'd known my whole life—the only person who had provided a constant presence in my life—was gone, relentless murdered by Michael.

Why? I'm sure it was to make his point. Was this some kind of ironic justification? What I'd tried to protect Paul from had actually happened to my mother. Was it Michael's way of telling me that I wasn't safe, that not even an arrest could stop him?

First, I'd felt denial. When I heard Paul's words, spoken into the cell phone, I couldn't believe it. I wanted to stay with her. When he had dragged me outside, it was his way of telling me I'd failed. He didn't even have to say the words.

Paul…just thinking about him made my heart twinge slightly in remembrance of what had happened in the last week.

After the tears had subsided for the first time, I'd done the only thing I could have done right then. I left.

I took in my old apartment, like I was seeing it clearly for the first time. I'd told Paul whatever lies had worked, in order for him to let me leave.

The look on his face-

No.

I squeezed my eyes shut, and wrapped my arms around myself, shivering. I'd transcended more in the past week than I had in my entire life. Long hours had been spent, raking the spiritual realm, calling in a broken voice for a mother who wasn't there. She was truly gone.

I was truly alone.

"Why? Why do you want us to leave? Why can't you just tell me, Suze?"

Cee Cee's shrill voice rang through her apartment, breaking my heart. She was getting sick of my monotonous sentences, always saying the same thing.

"You…just have to. I can't say why."

She remained adamant. "I won't leave on just that explanation. TELL ME."

"NO!" I roared, whatever patience I had snapping. "All you need to know is that I'm in a precarious situation, and it's not a good time to be my friend."

Cee Cee still looked unconvinced. This only angered me more.

"Do you think I'm joking? Do you want to DIE? Do you want ADAM to die?"

Her face was even paler than normal under her hair. Her lip started trembling. "But…Suze…"

My best friend's voice was weak. I shoved two slips of paper into her hands. "Go. Now. Take whatever you need, get the rest sent over if you have to. But don't come back until I tell you."

"I…"

She wasn't looking at me. Her eyes lay on the paper. I shook her hand frantically. "Okay? Don't come back until I contact you. I mean it."

"Suze…" Disbelief and fear coloured her eyes. "Are you sure?"

I glared at her. "Do I look sure to you?"

My phone began buzzing. I looked at it, wary, and ignored it. When it went silent, I breathed in relief. Then it began buzzing again. Rolling my eyes in annoyance, I picked it up, checking the caller ID.

"Vicki…" I said when I answered, "you shouldn't be calling me."

She sounded deflated before even speaking a word. "I know. Nicola said. But…I'm so sorry, Suze."

I shut my eyes, and tried to breathe evenly.

"You shouldn't be calling me," I repeated.

"Oh no, it's okay," she soothed, lowering her voice. "Nicola and David won't find out."

"That's not what I meant."

"No, it's alright. Anyway, word on the grapevine is that you're back at your old place," my eyes widened. How did she…? I shook myself. Vicki was still talking on, "…mind if I swing by as soon as I'm done here, maybe with some icecre-"

I was snapping at her before she could finish. "No. You can't come over. Whatever you do, don't."

Silence. "…Why not?"

"Because you can't."

"But Paul's not with you anymore, and I thought you might want some company…"

I didn't even want to know how she knew all this. Gossip at work, maybe? "Vicki, seriously, you can't, okay?"

"No, no, it's okay. I'll see you soon!"

The phone was dead before I could protest. In fury, I jabbed some buttons into my phone and redialled. She didn't pick up. I tried one more time.

"What?" she said with some annoyance. "I'll be there in a second."

"No!" I said with force. "You cannot come over. You show up, I won't let you in, okay? You can't."

The silence this time was even longer. "If…if that's what you want."

"Yes."

I shoved the phone back onto my bedside table, brimming with annoyance. Couldn't people just understand that…

No. They wouldn't. They couldn't seem to connect the fact that my mother had died so soon after I'd been attacked by Michael. They didn't realise he was coming after me in a different way.

Michael couldn't know who I had contact with. If he did, they would surely go too. I didn't know if I could handle that.

It was dark. I tugged at the curtains to make sure they were closed, so no light shone outside. I couldn't stop shivering although there was no real reason to be cold. I had the television on, but the volume was so low I couldn't hear it.

In short, I was on the edge.

Lying in apathy had only helped for so long. Now, the gripping fear of my situation was hitting me with full force. I was alone.

Oh boy, I was alone.

I sat on the couch, with my knees to my chest, my face in my hands. I wouldn't cry, though. I'd cried too much these past few days. Reaching blindly to the side, I secured my grip around a cushion and pulled it over; I held it like it was a life force.

What I really wanted at this point was for someone to just…hold me. To tell me that, sometime in the future, things were going to work out okay. Things would be fine. That it would be nothing more than a painful memory. The person who could have said all those things was no longer here.

But he would live because of it. Sure, he would live on hating me, but he would live.

That was one of the greatest gifts I could ever give him.

But maybe I hadn't really known Paul as well as I thought when I'd made these assumptions. I heard a knock on the door.

He wasn't a pushover; he wouldn't let me go with just my mumbled, weak and pathetic excuses.

I should have known he'd come back.

"Open the door, Suze!"

I hugged my cushion in protest. The harder I held it, the more fleeting security I felt. Especially when I heard his next sentence:

"I know you're in there. Open the goddam door!"

I screwed my face up, and felt the itchiness behind my eyes, before my vision started to blur. "I don't want to see you!" I shrieked. I clutched the pillow tighter.

There was a pause. "I don't believe you."

I bit my lip. "Well…you should!"

Ooh. That told him.

Finally, finally, I heard him sigh in resignation, and his footsteps receding off the porch.

I exhaled, and let a few tears fall. It was silent, once more.

Minutes passed. Paul was gone.

Then I heard one of the kitchen windows creak open. I froze, so stiff. Nothing moved as I sat there on the couch.

Oh…god.

I tried to move. I tried to pry my goddam ASS off that couch, and pelt towards the front door. Or to try and find the sharpest, spikiest, most hazardous weapon ever.

Naturally, I was leaning towards the latter option, but I could only put that plan into motion if I moved…which wasn't happening.

I heard feet hit the floor, which caused my stomach to do the same. The temperature dropped a few degrees, and my heart started racing.

If it was Michael's feet, there is no definition as to how screwed I would be.

Clumsily, I threw the cushion over my shoulder and clambered up, grabbing the nearest tea light holder. As far as weapons went, it wasn't the most effective, but…

I was gripped with sudden adrenaline.

If this was Michael, I was going to meet him head on, just like I had with the countless ghost situations of my youth. I'd make him wish he never met me.

I would not be another body to add to his tally. I wouldn't. So I was just going to have to improvise, just like I used to.

Squaring my shoulders, I inhaled deeply, gripping the tea light holder, and stalked into the kitchen.

I didn't know whether to faint from relief, or abuse the man standing there despite.

"Paul!" I glared at him, shoving the tea light onto the kitchen bench in frustration. He didn't move from his leaning position against the sink. His arms were folded, and he was regarding me with a coolness I wasn't used to. "Why did you do that? You nearly gave me a heart attack."

He didn't reply at first. Finally, he said, "Sorry." He didn't make it sound the least bit sincere. Paul just kept looking at me.

I darted my eyes around frantically, although I knew there was nothing—or no one—to help me. Being with Paul was now going to pose a new danger.

"I think you should go," I finally replied.

Paul shifted his weight to the other leg. "No."

I crossed my arms in front of me in defiance. "I don't want you here, so you should leave."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

Paul didn't respond to that. My heart was beating fast, and I didn't know what to do about it. I was trapped…in my own house. This realisation almost made me start crying. Couldn't he see that this was something I had to do? I couldn't live through losing him as well. "Please, just go away…please."

I had barely whispered the words, but I knew that he'd heard me.

He stood, defiant, in his place. "You're lying. Just like you lied before about not needing me. You do." His gaze, resolute and strong, never left mine.

I shook my head furiously, my tears sprinkling down my cheeks…he could see my tears. "I'm not lying. I don't need here right now. Please, just GO." I was choking on my frustration.

Instead of leaving, he just stepped forward.

No…if he got too close…

I stepped back. "Paul, go away."

He shook his head, and stepped forward again.

"No. Stop…stop walking. Leave. I-I'll call the police if you come any closer."

"Empty threats, Suze. That's all you've ever been. I believed you before, but I won't now. You want me out?" He put his hands in his pockets. "You'll have to throw me out with your own bare hands."

My lip trembled. Paul saw this, and took another step forward. I took another back.

"You'll have to touch me. And you won't, because if you do, you won't be able to lie to me anymore."

I snorted in righteous indignation. "You are so full of yourself."

Another step.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes? Well, we'll have to see if what I'm saying is true. God knows, most of the time I'm the only one out of the two of us who is honest."

I gasped. "That is so unfair." I hiccupped, breathing in heavily. How could he be so harsh? Especially so soon after… "You have no idea."

"No idea? Because you never gave me one, that's why. You'd rather create fabrications than be honest. How do you think that makes me feel, Suze?"

I stepped back again, as far as I could, until my spine rammed into the wall. I winced, and rubbed my forehead in frustration. "I-I can't deal with this at the moment, Paul. Please…I want you to go."

"Su-"

"LEAVE!" I shouted, more tears falling.

He strode forward. "I won't." My eyes widened as, in a fluid motion, he put both arms either side of my head, and leant down so his face was less than a hand's width away. I shrank back into the wall, but there was only so far I could go.

"Wh…what are you…" I trailed off breathlessly, scared at the look that was in his eyes. Anger, frustration, sadness, something else…they were all mixed in a vortex of icy blue. He was searching through me. It made me feel so transparent. "Why?" I whispered weakly. Why couldn't he just go? Why couldn't he make this any easier for me?"

"Why? Because I'm not giving up on us, Suze. I'm not giving up on you."

I let my head hit the wall, shutting my eyes. I could feel his breath on my cheek.

"I love you."

My heart lurched, like it always did, in happiness at those three words. It was a reminder that, amidst all my faults, someone still managed to find something in me to love.

Too bad it was the same person I had to push away.

"And you know what else?" he continued on, "I know you. I know that you push the hardest when you need help the most."

My mouth fell open to object, but no sound came out. Because he was telling the truth. He was right, as usual. All I wanted was for him to be holding me, protecting me. Making me feel safe behind an invisible shield.

But this was me protecting him. I had to do this for his wellbeing. Maybe after all of this…

Until then, though, I had to stand where I was.

I shook my head. "You're insane." I lowered my head until my eyes were locked on his. Then I used the words I knew would hurt him more than any other insult I could give out. "You're crazy." I lengthened out the words, letting them have their full affect.

Paul had once confided in me that the worst thing someone could say to him was that he was crazy. And I'd just done it.

His eyes hardened a little, and his jaw locked into place. I suddenly felt very fragile and small, encased in this barrier he had made. He started to glare at me, and it felt like it was pricking at my skin. Those eyes…they were scary. They were confining.

I felt like I had to escape. The room I had between us was growing smaller and smaller.

The look in his face was almost murderous. Maybe he would…

No. I knew Paul. He wasn't like that. But he was mad. I'd pissed him off.

Finally he spoke, his words quick and low, but cutting. "So this is how you are going to cope with your mother's death, is it? You're going to degrade all those around you, until there is nothing left? Bring us all down with you?"

A few tears came free. "Don't say that."

"What? That your mother is dead?"

The tears were coming so much more forcefully now. For him to say it the way he did…

"I think I can say it. It's true, isn't it?"

I let loose a sob.

I couldn't…couldn't think of her. It was painful, like I was wrenching the sobs directly from my chest. Paul swam in front of me. Then I completely broke down. I hid behind my hands, trying to be as quiet as possible.

"…How could you do this to me? You…" I whispered.

I felt his arms enclose around me. I seized up at the contact, wrenched my hands away from my eyes, and put them on his chest, to push him away. I didn't want him to comfort me. Not after…

"You had no right," I seethed in deadly undertones, trying to push him off of me. His grip was strong. "Get OFF me!" I demanded, pushing even harder, more tears falling down my face. But he ignored me, and instead hugged me tighter.

After a few moments of pointless struggling, I gave up, and cried, sobbing into his chest. I felt him put his chin on the top of my head, and hold me securely. He didn't say anything else.

We stood there for a long time, until I'd almost forgotten why I was so upset.

I shifted my head, putting my hands on his shoulders. I wasn't crying so hard now, but I didn't really feel much better either. Paul leant down and kissed the top of my head. I closed my eyes, revelling in the sensation. Against my better judgement, I lifted my head up a little, so my forehead was resting against his neck.

I felt safe in his arms, even though I shouldn't have.

Paul shifted, and his neck came into contact with my lips. My eyes opened in surprise. It felt like I'd been jolted. I shivered at the contact, heat flowing through me.

I can't explain what happened to me, but the combination of fear, sorrow, love and need all spilled over in a wave of emotion. Before I could think, or regain my senses, I was frantically kissing his neck, trailing up to his face, like he'd disappear if I paused for too long.

He went very still.

"Suze? What are-" he cupped my cheeks with his hands so he could draw back and look at me, confusion evident on his face. Recklessly, I put my own hands behind his head, and kissed him on the lips with so much force, I think I took both of us by surprise.

I'm sure he was wondering what was going through my head, what was driving me to practically attack him with my lips, but after a few seconds he'd obviously caught on and responded with a passion that almost equalled my own, pushing me up against the wall.

I pressed myself up against him, unable to get close enough. After the emotional rollercoaster I'd been on in the past few days, I just needed something I didn't have to think about.

I needed to experience more than just loneliness, and fear, and blind hate…

I wanted him near me, as close as he could be. I wanted to feel his bare skin, his caressing touch, his hands on my lower back pulling me even closer to him. I wanted to feel his arms, like a constant shield, around me and protecting me like they had before.

It had seemed like it had been so long ago, the last time we'd been so close together. In reality, it had only been a week.

To me, it had felt so much longer than a week…

I was being selfish.

I forgot about the promise I'd made, to stay away and keep him from danger. I didn't care.

I refused to think about anything other than the way everything felt: his lips on my collarbone, trailing downwards, his hands splayed on my hips, drawing me close…I was struggling for oxygen, breathing in ragged gasps as I held the back of his neck, my other hand entangled in his hair.

I walked us into the lounge room, where the television was still flashing, mute. I pushed him onto the ground, moving over him, kissing his jaw, his neck, the space of skin exposed just above his shirt…

He groaned, holding me close, and then started shifting his weight, trying to flip us over. I kept my hands on his shoulders, pushing down, and deliberately staying where I was, refusing. I didn't feel like being submissive for even a minute, not even to Paul. Not after everything that had happened.

I became apathetic, once more. I didn't listen to any logical part of my brain, telling me to stop. I was doing what I wanted.

I'd just wanted to feel.

I woke quickly, the breath caught in my lungs. Paul was breathing right in front of me, our arms both around each other's waists, and my chest against his. I was pulled tight to him, like he was still protecting me even though he was sleeping. It was a wonderful feeling…but it wasn't right.

What had I done?

I bit my lip to stop any sounds of frustration that might have escaped me. Why was I always so weak? Why had I given in?

…Why had I been so selfish, yet again?

I bowed my head, and shut my eyes tightly. I wanted to seek comfort in his arms again, but I was suddenly too cold. I'm sure that, had Paul been awake, he would have felt the instant temperature change on my skin. But he wasn't. He was sleeping peacefully, his mouth tugged up in one corner, all the trouble in the world gone for the moment.

I wished I could be like that, even for a few minutes. But I couldn't.

My world was spinning off its axis, and it wouldn't balance until I'd gone up against Michael, and he'd gotten what he deserved.

But I knew what would happen when I went after him. It would definitely be the last time I did so. I'd gotten lucky way too many times. Besides, he knew my tactics now. He knew how I fought back. He knew the little tricks I used to get ahead.

So if I failed, I'd be in a lot of trouble. Well, until I died, anyway.

Lying there, I had no idea what to do. I'd already done what I'd promised myself not to do, and now…I'd have to find some way to make Paul leave again. I felt like crying all over again, just looking at him.

I didn't know if I could do it again. The first time had hurt enough.

When had things gotten so complicated? Would this all have happened if I hadn't antagonised Michael? What about if I went back to the day when I made the decision on my independent case? If I'd taken a different one, would it all still play out the same?

What if. It's a nice phrase. Two words that condemn you.

Biting my lip, I slowly eased myself out of his grasp. My hip and shoulder were numb from the hard floor. I peeled off the blanket Paul had thought to throw over us last night, and stumbled onto my feet. Without looking back, I walked out of the room, and into the shower, feeling vulnerable.

I didn't know what to do.

He was dressed and in the kitchen when I returned from the shower. I walked in awkwardly, watching him. He was attractive as ever, a shadow of facial hair gracing the lower half of his face.

Paul had changed so much. He was still as confident and arrogant as he'd always been, but there was softness to the edges. Even when we were children, I'd always known there was more to him than what others saw. He'd always had a strong hold over me.

It was about to be severed.

"You're still here," I observed casually.

He nodded, as if it was obvious. "Of course."

I sighed, and walked up to the bench, leaning on it. "Look…last night was-"

"Don't."

I stopped. He looked a little angry. "Don't say it was a mistake. It wasn't."

I bit my lip and looked at him reluctantly. "Paul, it was great, okay. I give you that."

His face was guarded. "So what's the problem?"

I ran a hand through my wet hair. "Um…do you know what a one night stand is?"

His eyes were like steel. They looked dangerous. "Of course I know what it is. What is this about?"

"Last night was a one night stand, Paul."

His face screwed up in confusion. He walked over to the other side of the bench I was leaning on. "What the hell are you talking about? We're engaged, remember?"

I just blinked up at him dumbly, as if he was missing a very big, obvious thing, and slowly raised my left hand for him to see. My ring finger was bare, as it had been for the last week. "We're not. We haven't been since last week. We're…nothing, Paul."

Paul stepped back like I'd burnt him, his face changing. "Are you kidding? Please tell me you're joking."

I slowly shook my head.

He looked at me for a very long time. His eyes were searching for anything…anything to contradict what I'd just said, anything to save us. But he wouldn't find anything. I'd made sure of that.

"You…you're serious…" he noted. He looked so hurt I felt like taking it all back. I felt lower than I'd ever felt before…because I was deliberately hurting him.

To see someone you love in pain is one thing. To be causing it is another thing entirely.

I didn't say anything in response.

Finally, he stepped back, and grabbed his jacket from the lounge room. Then he walked past, and stopped in front of the door, looking at me down the hallway. "If you want me gone, then I'm gone."

His voice wasn't pleading. It wasn't even soft. It was cold, and harsh.

"I do."

Looking at me one last time with an unreadable emotion, he opened to door, and slammed it behind him. I watched the door for a good few seconds, breathing steadily, before turning away.

I could have collapsed, right there, and let it all out in a torrent of tears. But I didn't. I had work to do.

I had to get rid of Michael. The hatred I felt towards him was more than I'd ever felt before. I couldn't see anything else except my need to make sure he was punished. I'd have to be the one to do it, too.

Paul finding me had been proof I couldn't stay hidden forever. Michael would find me eventually. At least this way, I'd have the upper hand.

It would be me or him.