I'm baa-ack. I had to go to hell- er to see my relatives for a week. Grrr. But now I'm committing myself to an hour of writing a day, but I'm going away again next week.
I have no idea where this chapter came from. Basically, I started writing this chapter, then stopped wiring and couldn't remember what I was going to write next, so this got kinda strange. And I was planning on making this near the end, but now I've got so many ideas that this might only be halfway. Let me know what you think of me making that so long.
Also, I'm looking for suggestions for the story title. If you have any, please let me know.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"You did what?" Hazel asked me when I called her after Spinner left. My mom still wasn't home.
"I was going to sleep with him."
She didn't answer right away. "Why?"
"I thought. . . I thought I could be with him."
"Did you want to?"
I sighed. "I don't know. I thought I did, but now. . ."
"But you didn't, did you?"
"No. But when is this going to end? When is Dean going to stop having control over me?"
"I don't know hun. Maybe you should cool it with Spin a bit. Maybe after Dean's in jail-"
"If he goes to jail. God, Hazel, I thought things were almost over. Now. . . it's like they're just starting."
"What do you mean? There's just the trial left."
"So what? How long before I can sleep with someone without screaming or kiss someone without feeling like I'm going to throw up. He's with me, whether I like it or not."
"Did you talk to Ms. Sovet about this?"
"Yeah, I guess." I hard the front door open. "I gotta go. I'll talk to you later."
"Okay, I'll talk to you tomorrow." I hung up and went to find Mikey.
"Mikey?" I called. "Hello?" Maybe it wasn't him. "Mom?" Still nothing. My heart started racing. Who was there? I swallowed hard and managed to put one foot in front of the other. I made my way silently down the stairs and saw the door wide open. I ran back upstairs and went into my mom's room- her door locked. I locked it, put a chair in front of it and turned off all the lights, hoping that whoever was in the house couldn't see me. Then I curled up into a ball and dialled 911.
"911 emergency operator. Do you need fire, ambulance of police?" The female operator asked.
I considered just speaking softly and hoping that whoever it was couldn't hear me, but decided to do something else instead. "No, Leslie, isn't it Shelly's dad who's the police officer?"
"Police?" she confirmed.
"Yeah, I think you're right."
"What's your location?"
"How is it that every year I give you my address and you still manage to loose it? How many times until you remember? Are you writing it down this time? 859 Wicher."
"The police are on their way over. What's the current situation?"
I had heard things breaking below me. "Anyways, have you heard the new Shawn Desmond song? You know the one with breaking glass at the beginning?"
"Is there someone in your house?"
"Oh yeah, I know what you mean."
"Where are you right now?"
"Was it you who said that your mom was redoing her bedroom?"
"Where is that in your house?"
"Is hers the big one at the end of the hall?"
"Downstairs?"
"No, I guess not."
"Upstairs."
"Un-huh."
"First or second floor?"
"No, Clay shouldn't have been second on American Idol." I was getting desperate now. I didn't know what else to say. Then I heard more footsteps downstairs, followed by "Police, Freeze!"
"The police are here," I whispered into the phone. "Thank you." I hung up and heard knocking on the door of my mom's room. I got up, turned on a light, pulled the chair away and opened the door. A male and female uniformed police officer stood outside.
"The house is clear," they told me. "There's a mess downstairs and fresh footprints in the dirt outside, but otherwise there's no one in here. Are you okay?" The female police officer asked.
"Yeah," I said softly. I stepped out of the shadows and started to head for the stairs when everything around me started getting fuzzy. I blinked, then continued walking, things getting blurrier and blurrier. I felt sick.
"Paige?" I hard my mom ask from downstairs.
"Mommy?" I called. I stumbled down the stairs. "Mommy?"
"Paige? What's going on?"
I was about to wrap my arms around her, when the blurriness and dizziness took over, slowly fading to black.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Are you sure you're okay?" my mom asked again. I was sitting down, holding a glass of water.
"I'm sure," I said, much more confidently then I felt. "I just. . . freaked out."
My mom turned back to the police officers. "You're sure there's no one here?"
"It's completely clear. The lock was picked, so you'll probably need a new one. Is there anywhere you can stay tonight?"
"I'm just going to get a hotel room. We're not staying here tonight."
"Okay, ma'am. There's some forms you need to fill out, but they can wait until morning. Why don't you pack a few things and we'll have our forensic people come over here?"
"Just take pyjamas and a change of clothes," she told me. "We'll be back tomorrow. Don't bother with your schoolbag." I nodded, then got up, still dizzy, but kept going. I made my way to my room, and noticed that nothing had been touched at first glance. I went to my dresser and saw the my face had been drawn over with red marker in all the pictures I had. My heart started pounding, but I ignored it and found a pair of pyjamas and a change of clothes. I pulled a pair of jeans off the floor and I added them to my pile of clothes. I went over to my closet, opened the doors and found a canvas bag to put all my clothes in. Underneath, I found a knife, traces of blood stuck to the handle. I ran my finger over the blade, then wrapped it inside a t-shirt and stuffed it in my bag. I was about to leave when I heard a paper crunch under my foot. I bent over and picked it up. It was folded in half, on the front it had the word 'Spirit' on it. I put the note back down, refusing to open it, and hoping the police would find it, and know that it was Dean. Then I closed my bag and headed down the stairs.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Can you guys keep from killing each other?" My mom asked Mikey and I. We had gotten a suite, the only room available in the hotel. Mikey and I each had a bed in one room, and she was taking a pull-out couch in the next room.
"We'll be fine, mom," Mikey assured her.
"Okay." She came over and hugged and kissed both of us. "I love you. Good-night." She closed the door. I turned to Mikey.
"Where were you?" I asked.
"Where was I when?"
"When you were supposed to be home. When this happened." I noticed a brise coming in around his eye. "What happened?"
He shrugged. "I got into a fight. It's not like it's the first time it happened." It was true. Although my brother was well respected around his school, and was buff for a seventeen year-old, he had gotten into a lot of fights over his sexuality.
"And last week? When you said you got hurt at the party?"
"I got into a fight. So what?"
"Well. . . it's just that. . . never mind."
"What is it?"
I rubbed my sore shoulder. It always started hurting when I was under too much stress. It had been happening a lot lately. "I think I know who broke into the house," I whispered.
He looked up. "Who?"
"You can't tell mom though. First, promise you won't tell mom."
"Paige-"
"Promise me you won't tell anyone."
He sighed. "Okay. I won't tell anyone."
"There was. . . this piece of paper. It said 'Spirit' on it. The only person who ever called me that was-"
"Dean."
"-Dean." I gaped at him. "How did you know that?"
"I know him. And I know what he did to you."
"How?"
He sighed again. "I shouldn't be telling you this."
"Tell me anyways."
"What I told you about the party I was at. I did get into a fight, but it was over you."
"You hit Dean?"
"One of my friends told me about him- Bardell's sports hero. He had a reputation of not being able to keep it in his pants. And it sounded like the guy you were talking about. So, I started talking to him, mentioned you. He started calling you all sorts of things that I'm not going to repeat. He said that you had come onto him and he'd slept with you."
"That's not how it was."
"I know. So, I hit him. I got a couple of good punches in before someone pulled me off of him. I was going to leave, and he followed me outside. We went at it pretty good. Someone called the police, but Dean took off before they got here. I stayed back to help clean up. And then I got home two hours later to find someone had broken in."
"They're never going to get him," I said softly.
"They will. Or if they won't, I will."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sometime after Mikey fell asleep, I made my way over to my bag and pulled out the knife from my bag. Even in the darkness, I could see that dried blood, making me feel guilty about what I was about to do. But I didn't know what else to do. I pulled off my pyjama bottoms and pulled it quickly across the exposed skin. I winced in pain, but drew comfort from the feeling of blood oozing across my skin. I kept cutting- smaller cuts, making sure that no one would be able to see. I started to feel dizzy, but I ignored it. I took the shirt that I had wrapped the knife in and pressed it against my cuts. I wiped the knife off on the shirt and slipped it back into the bag. Then I curled my legs into my chest, pulled the blankets over my head, stuffed my first in my mouth and cried myself to sleep.
I have no idea where this chapter came from. Basically, I started writing this chapter, then stopped wiring and couldn't remember what I was going to write next, so this got kinda strange. And I was planning on making this near the end, but now I've got so many ideas that this might only be halfway. Let me know what you think of me making that so long.
Also, I'm looking for suggestions for the story title. If you have any, please let me know.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"You did what?" Hazel asked me when I called her after Spinner left. My mom still wasn't home.
"I was going to sleep with him."
She didn't answer right away. "Why?"
"I thought. . . I thought I could be with him."
"Did you want to?"
I sighed. "I don't know. I thought I did, but now. . ."
"But you didn't, did you?"
"No. But when is this going to end? When is Dean going to stop having control over me?"
"I don't know hun. Maybe you should cool it with Spin a bit. Maybe after Dean's in jail-"
"If he goes to jail. God, Hazel, I thought things were almost over. Now. . . it's like they're just starting."
"What do you mean? There's just the trial left."
"So what? How long before I can sleep with someone without screaming or kiss someone without feeling like I'm going to throw up. He's with me, whether I like it or not."
"Did you talk to Ms. Sovet about this?"
"Yeah, I guess." I hard the front door open. "I gotta go. I'll talk to you later."
"Okay, I'll talk to you tomorrow." I hung up and went to find Mikey.
"Mikey?" I called. "Hello?" Maybe it wasn't him. "Mom?" Still nothing. My heart started racing. Who was there? I swallowed hard and managed to put one foot in front of the other. I made my way silently down the stairs and saw the door wide open. I ran back upstairs and went into my mom's room- her door locked. I locked it, put a chair in front of it and turned off all the lights, hoping that whoever was in the house couldn't see me. Then I curled up into a ball and dialled 911.
"911 emergency operator. Do you need fire, ambulance of police?" The female operator asked.
I considered just speaking softly and hoping that whoever it was couldn't hear me, but decided to do something else instead. "No, Leslie, isn't it Shelly's dad who's the police officer?"
"Police?" she confirmed.
"Yeah, I think you're right."
"What's your location?"
"How is it that every year I give you my address and you still manage to loose it? How many times until you remember? Are you writing it down this time? 859 Wicher."
"The police are on their way over. What's the current situation?"
I had heard things breaking below me. "Anyways, have you heard the new Shawn Desmond song? You know the one with breaking glass at the beginning?"
"Is there someone in your house?"
"Oh yeah, I know what you mean."
"Where are you right now?"
"Was it you who said that your mom was redoing her bedroom?"
"Where is that in your house?"
"Is hers the big one at the end of the hall?"
"Downstairs?"
"No, I guess not."
"Upstairs."
"Un-huh."
"First or second floor?"
"No, Clay shouldn't have been second on American Idol." I was getting desperate now. I didn't know what else to say. Then I heard more footsteps downstairs, followed by "Police, Freeze!"
"The police are here," I whispered into the phone. "Thank you." I hung up and heard knocking on the door of my mom's room. I got up, turned on a light, pulled the chair away and opened the door. A male and female uniformed police officer stood outside.
"The house is clear," they told me. "There's a mess downstairs and fresh footprints in the dirt outside, but otherwise there's no one in here. Are you okay?" The female police officer asked.
"Yeah," I said softly. I stepped out of the shadows and started to head for the stairs when everything around me started getting fuzzy. I blinked, then continued walking, things getting blurrier and blurrier. I felt sick.
"Paige?" I hard my mom ask from downstairs.
"Mommy?" I called. I stumbled down the stairs. "Mommy?"
"Paige? What's going on?"
I was about to wrap my arms around her, when the blurriness and dizziness took over, slowly fading to black.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Are you sure you're okay?" my mom asked again. I was sitting down, holding a glass of water.
"I'm sure," I said, much more confidently then I felt. "I just. . . freaked out."
My mom turned back to the police officers. "You're sure there's no one here?"
"It's completely clear. The lock was picked, so you'll probably need a new one. Is there anywhere you can stay tonight?"
"I'm just going to get a hotel room. We're not staying here tonight."
"Okay, ma'am. There's some forms you need to fill out, but they can wait until morning. Why don't you pack a few things and we'll have our forensic people come over here?"
"Just take pyjamas and a change of clothes," she told me. "We'll be back tomorrow. Don't bother with your schoolbag." I nodded, then got up, still dizzy, but kept going. I made my way to my room, and noticed that nothing had been touched at first glance. I went to my dresser and saw the my face had been drawn over with red marker in all the pictures I had. My heart started pounding, but I ignored it and found a pair of pyjamas and a change of clothes. I pulled a pair of jeans off the floor and I added them to my pile of clothes. I went over to my closet, opened the doors and found a canvas bag to put all my clothes in. Underneath, I found a knife, traces of blood stuck to the handle. I ran my finger over the blade, then wrapped it inside a t-shirt and stuffed it in my bag. I was about to leave when I heard a paper crunch under my foot. I bent over and picked it up. It was folded in half, on the front it had the word 'Spirit' on it. I put the note back down, refusing to open it, and hoping the police would find it, and know that it was Dean. Then I closed my bag and headed down the stairs.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Can you guys keep from killing each other?" My mom asked Mikey and I. We had gotten a suite, the only room available in the hotel. Mikey and I each had a bed in one room, and she was taking a pull-out couch in the next room.
"We'll be fine, mom," Mikey assured her.
"Okay." She came over and hugged and kissed both of us. "I love you. Good-night." She closed the door. I turned to Mikey.
"Where were you?" I asked.
"Where was I when?"
"When you were supposed to be home. When this happened." I noticed a brise coming in around his eye. "What happened?"
He shrugged. "I got into a fight. It's not like it's the first time it happened." It was true. Although my brother was well respected around his school, and was buff for a seventeen year-old, he had gotten into a lot of fights over his sexuality.
"And last week? When you said you got hurt at the party?"
"I got into a fight. So what?"
"Well. . . it's just that. . . never mind."
"What is it?"
I rubbed my sore shoulder. It always started hurting when I was under too much stress. It had been happening a lot lately. "I think I know who broke into the house," I whispered.
He looked up. "Who?"
"You can't tell mom though. First, promise you won't tell mom."
"Paige-"
"Promise me you won't tell anyone."
He sighed. "Okay. I won't tell anyone."
"There was. . . this piece of paper. It said 'Spirit' on it. The only person who ever called me that was-"
"Dean."
"-Dean." I gaped at him. "How did you know that?"
"I know him. And I know what he did to you."
"How?"
He sighed again. "I shouldn't be telling you this."
"Tell me anyways."
"What I told you about the party I was at. I did get into a fight, but it was over you."
"You hit Dean?"
"One of my friends told me about him- Bardell's sports hero. He had a reputation of not being able to keep it in his pants. And it sounded like the guy you were talking about. So, I started talking to him, mentioned you. He started calling you all sorts of things that I'm not going to repeat. He said that you had come onto him and he'd slept with you."
"That's not how it was."
"I know. So, I hit him. I got a couple of good punches in before someone pulled me off of him. I was going to leave, and he followed me outside. We went at it pretty good. Someone called the police, but Dean took off before they got here. I stayed back to help clean up. And then I got home two hours later to find someone had broken in."
"They're never going to get him," I said softly.
"They will. Or if they won't, I will."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sometime after Mikey fell asleep, I made my way over to my bag and pulled out the knife from my bag. Even in the darkness, I could see that dried blood, making me feel guilty about what I was about to do. But I didn't know what else to do. I pulled off my pyjama bottoms and pulled it quickly across the exposed skin. I winced in pain, but drew comfort from the feeling of blood oozing across my skin. I kept cutting- smaller cuts, making sure that no one would be able to see. I started to feel dizzy, but I ignored it. I took the shirt that I had wrapped the knife in and pressed it against my cuts. I wiped the knife off on the shirt and slipped it back into the bag. Then I curled my legs into my chest, pulled the blankets over my head, stuffed my first in my mouth and cried myself to sleep.