Yo, I'm here again. Love how quick I'm getting these up? Me too. I haven't
written anything decent for ages, so it's kind of flooding out of me. Hell
yeah! Here's another one. I haven't planned this chapter, so we'll see how
it turns out. Don't flame me for anything you don't like. I love you all
(in a total non gay way,) thanks for the reviews! But yeah, it's ten to
2am, so be nice . . .
And also, if you find it strange that some things that Paul has done in the other "books" (NOT fan fictions) happen in this story, I've done that on purpose, to prove that Paul does some things the same whatever the situation, and that Suze's reactions are basically the same, because Paul still is (a bloody sleaze!) who he is. So don't tell me that it seems to predictable at the moment, because it's building up. But yeah, again, thanks for all of you being gorgeous people! (Just out of curiosity, are there many guys on this site? No, not what you think, I just want to know how many boys like story writing . . .)
But yeah. (I say that a lot, don't I?) I'll shut up now . . . Enjoy.
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What a drag of a day. I mean, seriously. I now have this huge, ugly, purple, spotty bruise on my shoulder! How rude it that? I mean, at least I was, like, wearing a cardigan, so it was covered.
But still. This Father Dom bloke is a MEDIATOR TOO!
There is a God. What an appropriate person to have as a mediator. You know, a priest? Oh yeah, he wasn't too impressed with my methods for ghost busting, by the way.
I thought back to earlier that day . . .
'So, what are your methods for handling ghosts then, Susannah?' he asked, looking at me intently. He totally had one of those priestish, I'm-a-man-of- God-so-be-nice-to-me-and-don't-forget-to-pray voices. It was unnerving.
'Well, I handle most of this spirits by . . . well, you saw,' I said, not thinking of a very nice way to say, "I rip into their chests, and show 'em their bloody, ghost-ass hearts before they agree to be reasonable and do it my way." (A/N: I kinda got that off a Simpsons episode. ^_^)
His eyes went freakishly wide, so I could see the entire circle of his pale azure irises. 'You . . . you deal with ghosts like you dealt with Heather?!' he asked, scandalized.
I shrugged. 'Long story short . . . yeah.'
He bashed his fist on his desk, and stood up in outrage. 'Susannah! You cannot be using physical violence against these spirits! They are lost, and confused, and do not know why they are dead, half the time!'
I blinked. 'It's okay, Padre, I only resort to head bashing when they piss me off.'
Not the right thing to say.
'Susannah,' he said, looking like he was about to cry in his frustration, 'These ghosts need to be treated with care and caution. You must talk to them, and listen to what they have to say, in order for them to pass on. If you fight them, then they will not trust you. How do you manage to help them pass on after you act aggressively towards them?'
I smiled. 'I exorcise them, of course.'
He stopped dead. I man, totally and completely stopped. What? You'd think I'd just said, "I'm romantically involved with Satan," by the way he was reacting. All colour drained from his wrinkly face. He blanched completely, and his eyes looked at me in sorrow.
'Oh, Susannah,' he said heavily. 'You are not being seriously, I hope.'
'What?' I asked defensively. 'What is wrong with exorcisms? If a ghost has you at gunpoint, you're not going to ask him for a cup of tea and a slice of carrot cake, are you? Sometimes, exorcisms are the only way, Padre.'
Father Dom was still looking at me in that pitying way, as if I needed serious therapy or something. I stared back at him defiantly. He was asking for my methods? Well, he got 'em.
He just wasn't exactly over the moon about them, though.
'Susannah,' he said in mild anger, 'you can never exorcise a ghost that you are trying to help. Exorcisms are not made for that-' What?! Where had this guy been?! '-You must be rational, when dealing with ghosts, not-'
'Yeah, whatever,' I said tiredly. Jeez, the guy was heavy with the "be polite" stuff, wasn't he?
. . . Back to the present . . .
Sleepy had driven Dopey, Doc and I back home. As soon as I walked in the door, Max, the family dog, ambushed me and knocked me over.
'Crap!' I yelled as I went down. A wet, pink tongue was attacking my face. 'Ew! Get him off me!' I yelled.
Dopey started laughing. 'Get her, boy!' he cheered, but Doc, being a little sweetie, kicked Max up the butt. He whimpered, and dashed away. Doc then went to fetch a face washer, but just after he gave it to me, Dopey seized him by the scruff of his shirt. I quickly wiped my face from all the slobber.
'Sticking up for her, are you? Trying to earn brownie points? Everyone knows you have a crush on her. You are so weak, dude,' he said nastily, and thumped him one in the uh . . . the area of masculine sensitivity. Doc bent over, looking like he was about to cry, poor darl.
That REALLY pissed me off.
'Hey, Brad? Just because you don't have a dick, you don't have to go damaging those who do,' I snarled at him, and kicked him in the chest. He fell back, and with an almighty crash, he collided with the little jarrah table near the door. The table snapped, and all the little photo frames shattered on top of him.
'Let that be a lesson to you,' I snapped. 'Now, piss off, unless you want to be next in line for a testicle retrieval operation.'
Dopey looked up at me, wide eyed.
'What ARE you?' he asked.
I narrowed my eyes at him. 'A girl with attitude, now beat it.'
He scrambled up, and ran to his room, slamming the door closed. I heard him turn up the stereo to maximum volume. It was this horrible rock music, that drove you insane, but I decided to ignore it. I extended a hand to Doc, and heaved him up.
'You okay?' I asked.
He gave me a weedy smile. 'Yeah. I'm sorry you had to witness that display of brotherly belligerence. It really wasn't necessary to come to my defense, but I am glad that you did. I'm grateful, Suze.'
I blinked. 'Just a simple "thank you" would have been fine, you know.'
He blushed, and then let go of my hand quickly. 'I have to do my homework . . .'
'You do that.'
He scurried up the stairs, and he too slammed his door, but not as forcefully as Dopey had. I grinned and shook my head. Nerdiness . . . It was kind of sweet.
I also then retired to my bedroom. I sank onto my bed, lay on my back, and shut my eyes. I was exhausted. I mean, what a day . . .
I thought about Paul again. I mean, was he for real last night? Oh, how I wanted to know the truth about why I was the way I am, but not from him. I knew something dire would happen, so it was wise to just ignore anything he said. And unfortunately, I probably wouldn't be able to exorcise him, 1. Because Father Dom would have my guts for garters, and 2. Because Paul was an ex-mediator, and would so see it coming, and would probably kill me.
Gogh, my hair I was in my eyes. Isn't that, like, so annoying? I went to brush it away . . .
But somebody else got there first.
'Miss me, Susie?'
I sat upright, and there, right beside me, was Paul.
I mean it when I say right beside me. He was lying on my bed also, staring at me. He couldn't have been there for long, because I didn't see him when I lay down. I went to move off the bed, but his hand shot out and snatched up my wrist. He gave me a gentle tug, which pulled me back onto my bed. Then, he sat up and leant over me, each hand holding down my arms.
I glared at him. 'Who would miss you?' I snapped.
He grinned at me. 'Go on, admit it, you did. You've been thinking about me all day. Thinking about the proposal I made last night.'
I had been, but I wasn't going to tell him that, was I?
Of course not, stupid.
'Let go of me,' I said. His shadowed eyes were burning into mine. I never thought it was possible for eyes so light to be so intensely and hopelessly dark. Again, a feeling of dismay consumed me. He was enchanting me again in his evil charm. I felt spellbound, but in a very, very, very bad way . . .
The room was murky, which did nothing for the tense atmosphere. I looked anywhere but at his eyes, and I felt myself going all still. He let go of me, and just lay next to me. Again, I went to sit up, but his hand darted over my waist, and kept me down.
'Don't move,' he said.
I didn't answer . . .
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Paul's POV.
I had seen what she had done to her stepbrother, Bradley. She calls him Dopey. It is very appropriate. He should never join the army. It would be incredibly stupid to combine a dangerous weapon and a low IQ.
But anyhow.
It amused me at how strong she could be, and yet how affectionate she'd been with her other stepbrother, David. I forget what she calls him.
As she came into the room, I hid. I wanted to make sure she was vulnerable before I talked to her again, otherwise she wouldn't listen to me. I could sense that she was angry with me. She shouldn't have been, I was only trying to help.
Honest?
When she lay on the bed, I made my move. I materialized silently next to her.
. . . My God, she was beautiful. Her eyes were closed gently, and the placid breeze from the open window was blowing her hair across her beautiful, perfect face. I brushed it from her eyes, and said, 'Miss me, Susie?'
Those emeralds snapped open in alarm, and she went to sit up.
Oh no you don't, I thought puckishly, and seized her hand, and pulled her back down next to me. She fell with a squeal, and I climbed over her, so she wouldn't get away.
'Who would miss you?' she asked, looking daggers at me.
I smiled knowingly. 'Go on, admit it, you did. You've been thinking about me all day. Thinking about the proposal I made last night.'
I saw in her eyes that she had. They flashed with evanescent guilt. She had been thinking about it profoundly. Oh, very much so.
Instead of answering, she said, 'let me go.' I examined her eyes again. Because I was dead, I couldn't see into her thoughts. She could see into mine, if she ever tried. Oh, I could teach her how to do so many amazing things, far beyond the imagination, if ONLY she'd give me the time of day!
But I'd gladly settle for the time of night, if you catch my drift.
I felt her go very rigid, as if she was fighting an urge to so something impulsive. I released her arms, but, silly girl, she wasn't a fast learner. She tried to get away from me, but I thwarted her escape, shooting an arm over her stomach, and rolling her over to face me. Her eyes shrank, and her mouth opened ever so slightly. Oh, what flawless lips . . .
They'd be mine soon . . .
'Don't move,' I grinned wryly at her, and her face went even more white. She didn't even speak. Slowly, I lifted my arm, and she didn't try to run. My grin widened.
'Have you come to a decision, Susie?' I asked, playing with the fire.
She pursed her lips. 'Don't call me that,' she said shortly. 'And yes, I have.'
I brightened. 'Well?'
'No,' she replied. 'And I'm not changing my mind. So drop it. Can I go now?'
I raised my eyebrows. 'Why on earth would I let you go when you are willing to do anything I say? I could have some real fun, you know.'
She choked on her response, but thought better of it, and didn't answer. Instead, she just turned away, and curled up. I decided it was time to mess with her mind again . . .
'Come on, Suze,' I whispered to her turned back. I put my hand on her hip, and she flinched as if I'd just gave her a static shock. 'You know that you can't fight this urge forever. You are dying to know the answers, and what you are really capable of. Don't even bother denying it. You'd do anything to know, you're just playing hard to get . . .'
I slid my hand up her body, resting just below her breast, and I felt her tremble. I could feel her slowly surrendering, giving into me. As I knew she would. But she'd taken her sweet time. She was strong willed, I'd give her that.
Just not strong enough . . .
'Well?' I said seductively, and I half closed my eyes smoothly.
That was when she slapped my hand, and jumped of the bed. She stood up, and backed away. I saw that she was close to tears.
'Stop it!' she whispered urgently, 'Just stop it, Paul!'
I sat up, staring at her. I was so close, so close to winning this game . . .
'Suze! Dinner!'
She looked at me, wide-eyed, and ran out of the room.
DAMN!
I was so close! I'd almost gotten her to yield, and then that damn stepfather of hers had to go and spoil it!
ARGH!
In aggravation, I caused her mirror to shatter. They fell on the paneled floor with a tinkling sound. I stared at the shards of glass.
I had no longer had a reflection . . .
Because of De Silva . . .
Oh, he was going to pay dearly for murdering me. Me, Paul Slater, the most powerful shifter of all -
I stopped suddenly. I had just had an idea . . .
I could use Suze to get back at him! I stood up, and picked up a particularly jagged piece of broken glass. For later . . .
I quickly thought up a plan. Oh, this would be good. This would be perfect!
And I could keep Suze for myself after!
Oh, what a beautiful day.
Now I just needed a beautiful night. I laughed. Suze was right, I was a sleazy bastard.
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Suze's POV
After dinner, I tentatively went back into my room. I peaked around the door to check that Paul wasn't there. He wasn't.
I snuck in, and jumped in the shower. Yeah, in my bikini. What? I wasn't taking any chances. I mean, that was a whole TEN MINUTES in the nuddy! Nude is rude!
After showering, I quickly slipped into some boxers and a singlet top, and then put my dressing gown on. Mum had got it for me. It was kind of like an open negligee. At least it wasn't all I was wearing, or Paul would go gaga.
Ew . . .
After I was well dressed and all, I went over to my desk, and pulled out all my homework. I spread it across the desktop, chewing my pen.
'Okay . . .' I said to myself, 'get this essay done, Suze, and that maths sheet, and you're fine for bed.' I mean, I was dead tired. But I had to get this stupid essay thing done. Can you believe it? It was an essay on the second Harry Potter, and their themes? We had to read it. I mean, how stupid is that? I'd already read them all once, which was quite enough for me.
So what if I wasn't an avid little bookworm?
I put my pen to paper, and began. Okay, an intro? Uh . . .
"The themes of novel are easier to understand when we have reasons to want to understand them and get involved in them. In the novel, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, by J. K. Rowling, the themes of the story are very obvious through her carefully crafted plot. We understand the principal themes of the novel, like friendship, family, racism, betrayal, and growing up, because she has made us side with/feel about specific characters. I will explain how she has done this, and consequently, how it affects my understanding of a few of these themes . . ." I wrote, and then paused. I sighed, and ran my hand through my hair. That wasn't such a bad introduction, if I do say so myself.
'Susie . . .'
I closed my eyes in irritation, but pressed on with my essay. Mr Scali wouldn't accept the excuse that my essay wasn't finished because of a charming, hot ghost of the male persuasion was trying to tempt me to be evil. Oh, that would go down FINE.
'Nah Suze, seriously. Let's put everything behind us and be friends.'
I threw down my pen.
'You wanna be friends, Paul? Well, they say absence makes the heart grow fonder, so piss off, I'm trying to learn here!' To emphasize my displeasure, I hurled a dirty sock at him. And to my amusement, it hit him in the face.
He wrinkled his nose, and stopped for a moment. I stared at him. He looked annoyed. I could understand, it was a very foul sock. You now, sweaty, sport's socks? Then suddenly, with the mind/controlling thing, he made it zoom back at me with his eyes. It wrapped itself around my hair like a hair tie. I had to laugh; it was pretty clever.
He grinned at me, and then went to sit on my bed. The sock fell to the floor, forsaken . . .
'Okay, I shall see if I can make a start to this awkward conversation. How was your day, Susie?'
The smile died from my face. 'Don't call me that!' I hissed.
His eyes flashed evilly. 'Oh, I think I will,' he said smugly. 'Susie . . .'
I simply glared at him, and turned back to my essay. "Friendship, in my opinion, is the foremost theme of the novel. Rowling has portrayed-'
'Oh, come on, don't be a party pooper!' he said in a whiny voice. I sighed, and turned back to him, yawning.
'Okay, well, fine. I had a fab day, apart from the fact that I managed to acquire a large and rather hideous looking bruise on my shoulder as a result of mediation. You see, I met a girl named Heather on my first day, and she's not very nice to me. Oh yeah, she's a ghost,' I added as an after thought.
He blinked.
'You might wanna go slower next time,' he advised, nodding deliberately.
Then he cracked up.
I stared at him in mystification. Why was he being so nice? What was he up to? This was really weird . . .
When he shut up, I repeated myself to him, at a pace that anyone could understand.
'Okay,' he smirked, 'So you met a bitchy ghost. What is she like? Is she one of those pretty girls, or is she a dork?'
'She's pretty slutty, actually,' I said in disgust. Was is just me, or did his eyes twinkle for a second?
'Go on,' he drawled.
'Oh, blond, blue eyed, great bod, full tan, hip dresser . . . hey! Your type of girl,' I said sarcastically. And ah, revenge of the sock! Instead, this time he tried to manually stuff it in my mouth. I ended up laughing hysterically. When I realized that he wasn't about to stop, I leapt from the chair, and fled across the room. He chased me good-naturedly, and finally, he dived at me, and pushed me down against my bed, lying on top of me. He laughed a deep, manly laugh. It vibrated through his body. But I wasn't scared; this was a game. I laughed, but he was kind of, you know, winding me?
But then, instead of suffocating me with any socks, he glided his thumb down the side of my face, gazing at me fixedly. I blinked several times in succession. What happened to playing with my reeking footwear?
'Paul -' I began, but he placed a finger on my lips, and shushed me quietly. My heart rate began to gradually increase, until it was beating in an unruly rhythm.
And then, he lowered his head . . .
. . . And kissed me.
Paul's POV.
I chased her with the sock. Now, this was fun. It wasn't my kind of fun, but I was enjoying this game all the same. Then, I saw my chance to strike. I leapt at her, and pushed bed down against the bed, laughing.
But once she was there beneath me, socks seemed so stupid.
Of course they were.
Who'd want to stuff a dirty sock in that sacred mouth?
I just stared at her for a second, as my head hammered. Why did she have to be this beautiful? This smart? This independent? Why couldn't I just treat her like I treated all the other girls that used to flock around me in my life?
When I was alive . . .
She wasn't some slut that I could get pleasure from for ten minutes. It was like . . . I dunno, there was something inside me that made me want to respect her. That's very freaky for me, I don't usually feel like that. But at the same time, she had this body that drove me CRAAAAAAAAZY!
Oh, she was so pure, so chaste, and so angelic . . .
I wanted her.
And we all know that Paul Slater always gets what he wants . . .
'Paul-' she said awkwardly, but I silenced her. She looked at me, slightly alarmed at what I was doing. I could see colour coming to her cheeks. She was blushing. I'd have to hurry, before embarrassment brought her to her senses.
So, I bowed my head, and gently kissed her.
Oh God, I was holding back. I was holding back more than I've ever held back in my life (and death . . .). I wanted more than anything to just rip her nightgown off, and . . . (yeah, you know, I won't say that "f" word) but I held myself.
But if I kept smothering this pulsating desire, I was going to EXPLODE.
She was kissing me back, and she had moved her hands so that they were around my neck. Her eyes were closed softly. She was liking this. I could tell by the way that she was smiling lightly against my lips. Shit, she was a great kisser . . . Oooh, damn, this felt good. Maybe I could try and take it up a notch . . .
I slid my hand behind her back, and pressed her against me. Oops, bad move . . . She stopped kissing me, and turned her head away. But I kept going. Maybe I could capture her again.
'Paul,' she said, frowning heavily from beneath me, 'This has got to stop.'
'Says who? 'I asked breathlessly, using my hand to turn her face back to me. She looked at me for a second, and I saw that terror in her eyes again. It was okay. Terror works wonders for me. Oh, this was not fair! I was in limbo, waiting for her to respond, but she was too far on her guilt trip.
'Me,' she said firmly, and tried to push me off. Tried, I say. I wouldn't let her. I wasn't going to let go of this opportunity that easily. So what if she wasn't some common skank? I'd waited too long . . . I mean, how many times to you get this chance? How often do you catch the stunningly attractive (yet very-scary-when-she-was-angry) girl who moved into your bedroom (and was also able to see you, hear you, and most essentially, make- out with you,) off guard? It was a once in a lifetime thing. Well, twice in a lifetime, knowing the affect I had on women . . .
But she really wanted me off. I kept kissing, but it wasn't working. She contorted her face, and forcefully pushed up. I fell off of her. It was astounding, her strength. Oh, I'd struck gold! And she was all for me. . .
MINE!
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Suze's POV.
I blushed furiously, and staggered back over to my little computer chair. Why did I feel so numb all of a sudden? Oh, what had I done?! Why had Paul done that! He'd ruined everything, and anything we might have had!
I went back to my essay, and began writing furiously, but I kept making stupid mistakes like, "We have the first love triangle . . . uh, I mean, friendship triangle, featuring Harry, Ron, and Hermione. We have been influenced to respect all of these characters because of their moral characteristics, e.g. lust . . . Shit! I mean, loyalty!"
I was so going to get an F . . .
Just hopefully not Paul's type of "F", if you catch my drift . . .
Oh, and speak of the devil, (literally, I'd wager) Paul grabbed my shoulder, and spun me around.
I looked up at him in alarm. Oh, I was scared more of him now than I had ever been . . .
My teeth were chattering, and my eyes were drooping from drowsiness, but I had to get my essay and my algebra done, and then I could go to sleep.
But Paul had other ideas on his mind than sleep . . . You could totally tell from that smile he was giving me.
'Suze, come back. You liked that. I know you did. There's plenty more where that came from, I can assure you.'
I felt very strange. People don't usually talk like that to me. They really don't. I tried to roll my eyes like it was nothing, but it wasn't very convincing. He tenderly picked up my hand, and tried to drag me into him, but I tugged it back, and continued with the bloody essay. It was really hard, when, all the while, he was tickling my back sexily, or whispering these really disgusting things suggestively in my ear, like, 'Let's play army guys. You lie down, and I can blow the hell out of you.'
And that was one of the nicer ones.
(A/N: Someone said that to me once . . . Ew . . . o.O)
I paid no attention to it most of the time, but some things were too hard to ignore. Half of me wanted to just do exactly what he was telling me to do, but the rest of me - the stronger half - made me remember that my dignity and most importantly, my virtue was in jeopardy. No, I kept writing that stinking essay.
I finished the very last paragraph. "It is true that Rowling encourages the readers to side with characters to accentuate the themes of the novel and make them easy to understand. I've talked about the themes of friendship, betrayal, family, and growing up, to explain this. My understanding of these human issues would have been very poor if Rowling's characters were weakly structured, but she did a very good job. Without these characters, and her influences on whom I should take sides with, I wouldn't have recognized these themes as easily as I did . . . "
Blah, blah, and blah . . .
By that time, I could barely keep my eyes open. My vision was fuzzy, and my mind was scattered, but I had . . . to . . . keep . . . going . . .
I pulled out the algebraic problems as Paul was still whispering things to me, still running his fingers up and down my arms, and making me feel deadened all over, but my head hit the paper before I could even find the very first value of 'x' . . .
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Paul's POV
She'd fallen asleep. My God, was I that boring? No, she had been tired before. I looked at her, leaning against the paper, her hair fluttering with each breath. Her face was so rested, so immaculate. This, of course, could have the ultimate chance to treat myself, but by the way she'd looked at me before, like she'd rather die at the hands of Jesse De Silva also than let me touch her the way I wanted to, well, I wasn't feeling very motivated. So, instead, I did the righteous thing, yeah, yeah, and carried her to her bed, tucking her in and everything. Oh, aren't I a gentleman?
Ugh, get a life . . .
Then, I wandered over to her homework sheet. Algebra? Oh, wasn't little Susie lucky that Mr Slater happened to be a mastermind at all things to do with maths? And this stuff was pissy. Carefully holding the pen, dully concentrating on it so it wouldn't merge through my fingers, I filled in all the answers in about five minutes. And that was roughly sixty questions.
Who's a genius?
Paul, of course.
I smirked, and drew a little cartoon on the back of her maths page. It wasn't a very G rated picture, either. What? I couldn't just do her homework, and let her get away with it, could I? Stop looking at me like that, you have no idea how my twisted, perverted mind works.
Oh, and aren't I proud of it . . .
I packed away her papers for her, and dematerialized with a very smug look.
Just you wait, Susie.
You'll fall for me soon.
I'll be there to catch you.
And I'll hold you prisoner,
Forever . . .
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Whoa, that was a LONG chapter. Well, what do you think? Okay, I'm not sure, but I think JESSE'S coming in the next chapter. We'll see where the river of my outlandish imagination takes us . . . Can we make it twenty (20) reviews, guys? Do it for Jesse . . .
Love Princess Roxanne.
PS. That was a real essay I did for my Yr. 8 teacher, hehehe.
PPS. Mr Scali and Miss Phillips are real people. (Real nice people too, but still!) Keep them off this sight at all costs!
~*~ Hang in there, and REVIEW NOW!!!~*~
~*~ ...I've had this chapter ready for ages. ~*~
And also, if you find it strange that some things that Paul has done in the other "books" (NOT fan fictions) happen in this story, I've done that on purpose, to prove that Paul does some things the same whatever the situation, and that Suze's reactions are basically the same, because Paul still is (a bloody sleaze!) who he is. So don't tell me that it seems to predictable at the moment, because it's building up. But yeah, again, thanks for all of you being gorgeous people! (Just out of curiosity, are there many guys on this site? No, not what you think, I just want to know how many boys like story writing . . .)
But yeah. (I say that a lot, don't I?) I'll shut up now . . . Enjoy.
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What a drag of a day. I mean, seriously. I now have this huge, ugly, purple, spotty bruise on my shoulder! How rude it that? I mean, at least I was, like, wearing a cardigan, so it was covered.
But still. This Father Dom bloke is a MEDIATOR TOO!
There is a God. What an appropriate person to have as a mediator. You know, a priest? Oh yeah, he wasn't too impressed with my methods for ghost busting, by the way.
I thought back to earlier that day . . .
'So, what are your methods for handling ghosts then, Susannah?' he asked, looking at me intently. He totally had one of those priestish, I'm-a-man-of- God-so-be-nice-to-me-and-don't-forget-to-pray voices. It was unnerving.
'Well, I handle most of this spirits by . . . well, you saw,' I said, not thinking of a very nice way to say, "I rip into their chests, and show 'em their bloody, ghost-ass hearts before they agree to be reasonable and do it my way." (A/N: I kinda got that off a Simpsons episode. ^_^)
His eyes went freakishly wide, so I could see the entire circle of his pale azure irises. 'You . . . you deal with ghosts like you dealt with Heather?!' he asked, scandalized.
I shrugged. 'Long story short . . . yeah.'
He bashed his fist on his desk, and stood up in outrage. 'Susannah! You cannot be using physical violence against these spirits! They are lost, and confused, and do not know why they are dead, half the time!'
I blinked. 'It's okay, Padre, I only resort to head bashing when they piss me off.'
Not the right thing to say.
'Susannah,' he said, looking like he was about to cry in his frustration, 'These ghosts need to be treated with care and caution. You must talk to them, and listen to what they have to say, in order for them to pass on. If you fight them, then they will not trust you. How do you manage to help them pass on after you act aggressively towards them?'
I smiled. 'I exorcise them, of course.'
He stopped dead. I man, totally and completely stopped. What? You'd think I'd just said, "I'm romantically involved with Satan," by the way he was reacting. All colour drained from his wrinkly face. He blanched completely, and his eyes looked at me in sorrow.
'Oh, Susannah,' he said heavily. 'You are not being seriously, I hope.'
'What?' I asked defensively. 'What is wrong with exorcisms? If a ghost has you at gunpoint, you're not going to ask him for a cup of tea and a slice of carrot cake, are you? Sometimes, exorcisms are the only way, Padre.'
Father Dom was still looking at me in that pitying way, as if I needed serious therapy or something. I stared back at him defiantly. He was asking for my methods? Well, he got 'em.
He just wasn't exactly over the moon about them, though.
'Susannah,' he said in mild anger, 'you can never exorcise a ghost that you are trying to help. Exorcisms are not made for that-' What?! Where had this guy been?! '-You must be rational, when dealing with ghosts, not-'
'Yeah, whatever,' I said tiredly. Jeez, the guy was heavy with the "be polite" stuff, wasn't he?
. . . Back to the present . . .
Sleepy had driven Dopey, Doc and I back home. As soon as I walked in the door, Max, the family dog, ambushed me and knocked me over.
'Crap!' I yelled as I went down. A wet, pink tongue was attacking my face. 'Ew! Get him off me!' I yelled.
Dopey started laughing. 'Get her, boy!' he cheered, but Doc, being a little sweetie, kicked Max up the butt. He whimpered, and dashed away. Doc then went to fetch a face washer, but just after he gave it to me, Dopey seized him by the scruff of his shirt. I quickly wiped my face from all the slobber.
'Sticking up for her, are you? Trying to earn brownie points? Everyone knows you have a crush on her. You are so weak, dude,' he said nastily, and thumped him one in the uh . . . the area of masculine sensitivity. Doc bent over, looking like he was about to cry, poor darl.
That REALLY pissed me off.
'Hey, Brad? Just because you don't have a dick, you don't have to go damaging those who do,' I snarled at him, and kicked him in the chest. He fell back, and with an almighty crash, he collided with the little jarrah table near the door. The table snapped, and all the little photo frames shattered on top of him.
'Let that be a lesson to you,' I snapped. 'Now, piss off, unless you want to be next in line for a testicle retrieval operation.'
Dopey looked up at me, wide eyed.
'What ARE you?' he asked.
I narrowed my eyes at him. 'A girl with attitude, now beat it.'
He scrambled up, and ran to his room, slamming the door closed. I heard him turn up the stereo to maximum volume. It was this horrible rock music, that drove you insane, but I decided to ignore it. I extended a hand to Doc, and heaved him up.
'You okay?' I asked.
He gave me a weedy smile. 'Yeah. I'm sorry you had to witness that display of brotherly belligerence. It really wasn't necessary to come to my defense, but I am glad that you did. I'm grateful, Suze.'
I blinked. 'Just a simple "thank you" would have been fine, you know.'
He blushed, and then let go of my hand quickly. 'I have to do my homework . . .'
'You do that.'
He scurried up the stairs, and he too slammed his door, but not as forcefully as Dopey had. I grinned and shook my head. Nerdiness . . . It was kind of sweet.
I also then retired to my bedroom. I sank onto my bed, lay on my back, and shut my eyes. I was exhausted. I mean, what a day . . .
I thought about Paul again. I mean, was he for real last night? Oh, how I wanted to know the truth about why I was the way I am, but not from him. I knew something dire would happen, so it was wise to just ignore anything he said. And unfortunately, I probably wouldn't be able to exorcise him, 1. Because Father Dom would have my guts for garters, and 2. Because Paul was an ex-mediator, and would so see it coming, and would probably kill me.
Gogh, my hair I was in my eyes. Isn't that, like, so annoying? I went to brush it away . . .
But somebody else got there first.
'Miss me, Susie?'
I sat upright, and there, right beside me, was Paul.
I mean it when I say right beside me. He was lying on my bed also, staring at me. He couldn't have been there for long, because I didn't see him when I lay down. I went to move off the bed, but his hand shot out and snatched up my wrist. He gave me a gentle tug, which pulled me back onto my bed. Then, he sat up and leant over me, each hand holding down my arms.
I glared at him. 'Who would miss you?' I snapped.
He grinned at me. 'Go on, admit it, you did. You've been thinking about me all day. Thinking about the proposal I made last night.'
I had been, but I wasn't going to tell him that, was I?
Of course not, stupid.
'Let go of me,' I said. His shadowed eyes were burning into mine. I never thought it was possible for eyes so light to be so intensely and hopelessly dark. Again, a feeling of dismay consumed me. He was enchanting me again in his evil charm. I felt spellbound, but in a very, very, very bad way . . .
The room was murky, which did nothing for the tense atmosphere. I looked anywhere but at his eyes, and I felt myself going all still. He let go of me, and just lay next to me. Again, I went to sit up, but his hand darted over my waist, and kept me down.
'Don't move,' he said.
I didn't answer . . .
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Paul's POV.
I had seen what she had done to her stepbrother, Bradley. She calls him Dopey. It is very appropriate. He should never join the army. It would be incredibly stupid to combine a dangerous weapon and a low IQ.
But anyhow.
It amused me at how strong she could be, and yet how affectionate she'd been with her other stepbrother, David. I forget what she calls him.
As she came into the room, I hid. I wanted to make sure she was vulnerable before I talked to her again, otherwise she wouldn't listen to me. I could sense that she was angry with me. She shouldn't have been, I was only trying to help.
Honest?
When she lay on the bed, I made my move. I materialized silently next to her.
. . . My God, she was beautiful. Her eyes were closed gently, and the placid breeze from the open window was blowing her hair across her beautiful, perfect face. I brushed it from her eyes, and said, 'Miss me, Susie?'
Those emeralds snapped open in alarm, and she went to sit up.
Oh no you don't, I thought puckishly, and seized her hand, and pulled her back down next to me. She fell with a squeal, and I climbed over her, so she wouldn't get away.
'Who would miss you?' she asked, looking daggers at me.
I smiled knowingly. 'Go on, admit it, you did. You've been thinking about me all day. Thinking about the proposal I made last night.'
I saw in her eyes that she had. They flashed with evanescent guilt. She had been thinking about it profoundly. Oh, very much so.
Instead of answering, she said, 'let me go.' I examined her eyes again. Because I was dead, I couldn't see into her thoughts. She could see into mine, if she ever tried. Oh, I could teach her how to do so many amazing things, far beyond the imagination, if ONLY she'd give me the time of day!
But I'd gladly settle for the time of night, if you catch my drift.
I felt her go very rigid, as if she was fighting an urge to so something impulsive. I released her arms, but, silly girl, she wasn't a fast learner. She tried to get away from me, but I thwarted her escape, shooting an arm over her stomach, and rolling her over to face me. Her eyes shrank, and her mouth opened ever so slightly. Oh, what flawless lips . . .
They'd be mine soon . . .
'Don't move,' I grinned wryly at her, and her face went even more white. She didn't even speak. Slowly, I lifted my arm, and she didn't try to run. My grin widened.
'Have you come to a decision, Susie?' I asked, playing with the fire.
She pursed her lips. 'Don't call me that,' she said shortly. 'And yes, I have.'
I brightened. 'Well?'
'No,' she replied. 'And I'm not changing my mind. So drop it. Can I go now?'
I raised my eyebrows. 'Why on earth would I let you go when you are willing to do anything I say? I could have some real fun, you know.'
She choked on her response, but thought better of it, and didn't answer. Instead, she just turned away, and curled up. I decided it was time to mess with her mind again . . .
'Come on, Suze,' I whispered to her turned back. I put my hand on her hip, and she flinched as if I'd just gave her a static shock. 'You know that you can't fight this urge forever. You are dying to know the answers, and what you are really capable of. Don't even bother denying it. You'd do anything to know, you're just playing hard to get . . .'
I slid my hand up her body, resting just below her breast, and I felt her tremble. I could feel her slowly surrendering, giving into me. As I knew she would. But she'd taken her sweet time. She was strong willed, I'd give her that.
Just not strong enough . . .
'Well?' I said seductively, and I half closed my eyes smoothly.
That was when she slapped my hand, and jumped of the bed. She stood up, and backed away. I saw that she was close to tears.
'Stop it!' she whispered urgently, 'Just stop it, Paul!'
I sat up, staring at her. I was so close, so close to winning this game . . .
'Suze! Dinner!'
She looked at me, wide-eyed, and ran out of the room.
DAMN!
I was so close! I'd almost gotten her to yield, and then that damn stepfather of hers had to go and spoil it!
ARGH!
In aggravation, I caused her mirror to shatter. They fell on the paneled floor with a tinkling sound. I stared at the shards of glass.
I had no longer had a reflection . . .
Because of De Silva . . .
Oh, he was going to pay dearly for murdering me. Me, Paul Slater, the most powerful shifter of all -
I stopped suddenly. I had just had an idea . . .
I could use Suze to get back at him! I stood up, and picked up a particularly jagged piece of broken glass. For later . . .
I quickly thought up a plan. Oh, this would be good. This would be perfect!
And I could keep Suze for myself after!
Oh, what a beautiful day.
Now I just needed a beautiful night. I laughed. Suze was right, I was a sleazy bastard.
**************************************************************************** ******
Suze's POV
After dinner, I tentatively went back into my room. I peaked around the door to check that Paul wasn't there. He wasn't.
I snuck in, and jumped in the shower. Yeah, in my bikini. What? I wasn't taking any chances. I mean, that was a whole TEN MINUTES in the nuddy! Nude is rude!
After showering, I quickly slipped into some boxers and a singlet top, and then put my dressing gown on. Mum had got it for me. It was kind of like an open negligee. At least it wasn't all I was wearing, or Paul would go gaga.
Ew . . .
After I was well dressed and all, I went over to my desk, and pulled out all my homework. I spread it across the desktop, chewing my pen.
'Okay . . .' I said to myself, 'get this essay done, Suze, and that maths sheet, and you're fine for bed.' I mean, I was dead tired. But I had to get this stupid essay thing done. Can you believe it? It was an essay on the second Harry Potter, and their themes? We had to read it. I mean, how stupid is that? I'd already read them all once, which was quite enough for me.
So what if I wasn't an avid little bookworm?
I put my pen to paper, and began. Okay, an intro? Uh . . .
"The themes of novel are easier to understand when we have reasons to want to understand them and get involved in them. In the novel, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, by J. K. Rowling, the themes of the story are very obvious through her carefully crafted plot. We understand the principal themes of the novel, like friendship, family, racism, betrayal, and growing up, because she has made us side with/feel about specific characters. I will explain how she has done this, and consequently, how it affects my understanding of a few of these themes . . ." I wrote, and then paused. I sighed, and ran my hand through my hair. That wasn't such a bad introduction, if I do say so myself.
'Susie . . .'
I closed my eyes in irritation, but pressed on with my essay. Mr Scali wouldn't accept the excuse that my essay wasn't finished because of a charming, hot ghost of the male persuasion was trying to tempt me to be evil. Oh, that would go down FINE.
'Nah Suze, seriously. Let's put everything behind us and be friends.'
I threw down my pen.
'You wanna be friends, Paul? Well, they say absence makes the heart grow fonder, so piss off, I'm trying to learn here!' To emphasize my displeasure, I hurled a dirty sock at him. And to my amusement, it hit him in the face.
He wrinkled his nose, and stopped for a moment. I stared at him. He looked annoyed. I could understand, it was a very foul sock. You now, sweaty, sport's socks? Then suddenly, with the mind/controlling thing, he made it zoom back at me with his eyes. It wrapped itself around my hair like a hair tie. I had to laugh; it was pretty clever.
He grinned at me, and then went to sit on my bed. The sock fell to the floor, forsaken . . .
'Okay, I shall see if I can make a start to this awkward conversation. How was your day, Susie?'
The smile died from my face. 'Don't call me that!' I hissed.
His eyes flashed evilly. 'Oh, I think I will,' he said smugly. 'Susie . . .'
I simply glared at him, and turned back to my essay. "Friendship, in my opinion, is the foremost theme of the novel. Rowling has portrayed-'
'Oh, come on, don't be a party pooper!' he said in a whiny voice. I sighed, and turned back to him, yawning.
'Okay, well, fine. I had a fab day, apart from the fact that I managed to acquire a large and rather hideous looking bruise on my shoulder as a result of mediation. You see, I met a girl named Heather on my first day, and she's not very nice to me. Oh yeah, she's a ghost,' I added as an after thought.
He blinked.
'You might wanna go slower next time,' he advised, nodding deliberately.
Then he cracked up.
I stared at him in mystification. Why was he being so nice? What was he up to? This was really weird . . .
When he shut up, I repeated myself to him, at a pace that anyone could understand.
'Okay,' he smirked, 'So you met a bitchy ghost. What is she like? Is she one of those pretty girls, or is she a dork?'
'She's pretty slutty, actually,' I said in disgust. Was is just me, or did his eyes twinkle for a second?
'Go on,' he drawled.
'Oh, blond, blue eyed, great bod, full tan, hip dresser . . . hey! Your type of girl,' I said sarcastically. And ah, revenge of the sock! Instead, this time he tried to manually stuff it in my mouth. I ended up laughing hysterically. When I realized that he wasn't about to stop, I leapt from the chair, and fled across the room. He chased me good-naturedly, and finally, he dived at me, and pushed me down against my bed, lying on top of me. He laughed a deep, manly laugh. It vibrated through his body. But I wasn't scared; this was a game. I laughed, but he was kind of, you know, winding me?
But then, instead of suffocating me with any socks, he glided his thumb down the side of my face, gazing at me fixedly. I blinked several times in succession. What happened to playing with my reeking footwear?
'Paul -' I began, but he placed a finger on my lips, and shushed me quietly. My heart rate began to gradually increase, until it was beating in an unruly rhythm.
And then, he lowered his head . . .
. . . And kissed me.
Paul's POV.
I chased her with the sock. Now, this was fun. It wasn't my kind of fun, but I was enjoying this game all the same. Then, I saw my chance to strike. I leapt at her, and pushed bed down against the bed, laughing.
But once she was there beneath me, socks seemed so stupid.
Of course they were.
Who'd want to stuff a dirty sock in that sacred mouth?
I just stared at her for a second, as my head hammered. Why did she have to be this beautiful? This smart? This independent? Why couldn't I just treat her like I treated all the other girls that used to flock around me in my life?
When I was alive . . .
She wasn't some slut that I could get pleasure from for ten minutes. It was like . . . I dunno, there was something inside me that made me want to respect her. That's very freaky for me, I don't usually feel like that. But at the same time, she had this body that drove me CRAAAAAAAAZY!
Oh, she was so pure, so chaste, and so angelic . . .
I wanted her.
And we all know that Paul Slater always gets what he wants . . .
'Paul-' she said awkwardly, but I silenced her. She looked at me, slightly alarmed at what I was doing. I could see colour coming to her cheeks. She was blushing. I'd have to hurry, before embarrassment brought her to her senses.
So, I bowed my head, and gently kissed her.
Oh God, I was holding back. I was holding back more than I've ever held back in my life (and death . . .). I wanted more than anything to just rip her nightgown off, and . . . (yeah, you know, I won't say that "f" word) but I held myself.
But if I kept smothering this pulsating desire, I was going to EXPLODE.
She was kissing me back, and she had moved her hands so that they were around my neck. Her eyes were closed softly. She was liking this. I could tell by the way that she was smiling lightly against my lips. Shit, she was a great kisser . . . Oooh, damn, this felt good. Maybe I could try and take it up a notch . . .
I slid my hand behind her back, and pressed her against me. Oops, bad move . . . She stopped kissing me, and turned her head away. But I kept going. Maybe I could capture her again.
'Paul,' she said, frowning heavily from beneath me, 'This has got to stop.'
'Says who? 'I asked breathlessly, using my hand to turn her face back to me. She looked at me for a second, and I saw that terror in her eyes again. It was okay. Terror works wonders for me. Oh, this was not fair! I was in limbo, waiting for her to respond, but she was too far on her guilt trip.
'Me,' she said firmly, and tried to push me off. Tried, I say. I wouldn't let her. I wasn't going to let go of this opportunity that easily. So what if she wasn't some common skank? I'd waited too long . . . I mean, how many times to you get this chance? How often do you catch the stunningly attractive (yet very-scary-when-she-was-angry) girl who moved into your bedroom (and was also able to see you, hear you, and most essentially, make- out with you,) off guard? It was a once in a lifetime thing. Well, twice in a lifetime, knowing the affect I had on women . . .
But she really wanted me off. I kept kissing, but it wasn't working. She contorted her face, and forcefully pushed up. I fell off of her. It was astounding, her strength. Oh, I'd struck gold! And she was all for me. . .
MINE!
**************************************************************************** ********
Suze's POV.
I blushed furiously, and staggered back over to my little computer chair. Why did I feel so numb all of a sudden? Oh, what had I done?! Why had Paul done that! He'd ruined everything, and anything we might have had!
I went back to my essay, and began writing furiously, but I kept making stupid mistakes like, "We have the first love triangle . . . uh, I mean, friendship triangle, featuring Harry, Ron, and Hermione. We have been influenced to respect all of these characters because of their moral characteristics, e.g. lust . . . Shit! I mean, loyalty!"
I was so going to get an F . . .
Just hopefully not Paul's type of "F", if you catch my drift . . .
Oh, and speak of the devil, (literally, I'd wager) Paul grabbed my shoulder, and spun me around.
I looked up at him in alarm. Oh, I was scared more of him now than I had ever been . . .
My teeth were chattering, and my eyes were drooping from drowsiness, but I had to get my essay and my algebra done, and then I could go to sleep.
But Paul had other ideas on his mind than sleep . . . You could totally tell from that smile he was giving me.
'Suze, come back. You liked that. I know you did. There's plenty more where that came from, I can assure you.'
I felt very strange. People don't usually talk like that to me. They really don't. I tried to roll my eyes like it was nothing, but it wasn't very convincing. He tenderly picked up my hand, and tried to drag me into him, but I tugged it back, and continued with the bloody essay. It was really hard, when, all the while, he was tickling my back sexily, or whispering these really disgusting things suggestively in my ear, like, 'Let's play army guys. You lie down, and I can blow the hell out of you.'
And that was one of the nicer ones.
(A/N: Someone said that to me once . . . Ew . . . o.O)
I paid no attention to it most of the time, but some things were too hard to ignore. Half of me wanted to just do exactly what he was telling me to do, but the rest of me - the stronger half - made me remember that my dignity and most importantly, my virtue was in jeopardy. No, I kept writing that stinking essay.
I finished the very last paragraph. "It is true that Rowling encourages the readers to side with characters to accentuate the themes of the novel and make them easy to understand. I've talked about the themes of friendship, betrayal, family, and growing up, to explain this. My understanding of these human issues would have been very poor if Rowling's characters were weakly structured, but she did a very good job. Without these characters, and her influences on whom I should take sides with, I wouldn't have recognized these themes as easily as I did . . . "
Blah, blah, and blah . . .
By that time, I could barely keep my eyes open. My vision was fuzzy, and my mind was scattered, but I had . . . to . . . keep . . . going . . .
I pulled out the algebraic problems as Paul was still whispering things to me, still running his fingers up and down my arms, and making me feel deadened all over, but my head hit the paper before I could even find the very first value of 'x' . . .
**************************************************************************** **
Paul's POV
She'd fallen asleep. My God, was I that boring? No, she had been tired before. I looked at her, leaning against the paper, her hair fluttering with each breath. Her face was so rested, so immaculate. This, of course, could have the ultimate chance to treat myself, but by the way she'd looked at me before, like she'd rather die at the hands of Jesse De Silva also than let me touch her the way I wanted to, well, I wasn't feeling very motivated. So, instead, I did the righteous thing, yeah, yeah, and carried her to her bed, tucking her in and everything. Oh, aren't I a gentleman?
Ugh, get a life . . .
Then, I wandered over to her homework sheet. Algebra? Oh, wasn't little Susie lucky that Mr Slater happened to be a mastermind at all things to do with maths? And this stuff was pissy. Carefully holding the pen, dully concentrating on it so it wouldn't merge through my fingers, I filled in all the answers in about five minutes. And that was roughly sixty questions.
Who's a genius?
Paul, of course.
I smirked, and drew a little cartoon on the back of her maths page. It wasn't a very G rated picture, either. What? I couldn't just do her homework, and let her get away with it, could I? Stop looking at me like that, you have no idea how my twisted, perverted mind works.
Oh, and aren't I proud of it . . .
I packed away her papers for her, and dematerialized with a very smug look.
Just you wait, Susie.
You'll fall for me soon.
I'll be there to catch you.
And I'll hold you prisoner,
Forever . . .
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Whoa, that was a LONG chapter. Well, what do you think? Okay, I'm not sure, but I think JESSE'S coming in the next chapter. We'll see where the river of my outlandish imagination takes us . . . Can we make it twenty (20) reviews, guys? Do it for Jesse . . .
Love Princess Roxanne.
PS. That was a real essay I did for my Yr. 8 teacher, hehehe.
PPS. Mr Scali and Miss Phillips are real people. (Real nice people too, but still!) Keep them off this sight at all costs!
~*~ Hang in there, and REVIEW NOW!!!~*~
~*~ ...I've had this chapter ready for ages. ~*~