Existence chapter 2
Carolyn984@aol.com
"If loving you is wrong, then my heart just won't let me be right
Because I'm drowned in you and I won't pull through without you by my side. . ." –Mariah Carey
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But as I said, things are never fair. When her younger stepbrother entered the room to see how she was doing—her forehead was badly bruised and cut, no doubt by the same hombre malisimo who had taken my life—I broke our kiss. Suddenly I realized what I had done, the sin I was sure I had committed. I felt as dirty as that boy who had kissed Susannah in his automobile, as filthy, but even more so because I had no right to. I was dead.
I could not—could *not*--act upon my feelings. It was not right.
But Susannah. . . she—I am sure I am not mistaken—she returned my kiss. Although I was not living, she kissed me as though I was. There was passion in that kiss. That I know I did not hallucinate.
But what could I do? It was wrong of me to have acted upon my emotions as I had. I could not draw Susannah—a living young woman—into my tainted desires. She was alive, I was not. She could not love me.
So I tried to stay away from her. I only hoped that I was not hurting her by doing so, making her think that she did something wrong, because she hadn't. It was me. I was the wrong-doer.
And then that man—that escuso horrible por un hombre—came back into her life. The very same man who had left her to die in that tierra de sombras. . . he returned, and had tried to harm Susannah again. I did not know this, of course, until he—el bastardo—sent her roses. I was furious.
And of course, I later was driven by my emotions once again. I could not help it. He—that cobarde—came into Susannah's room and made such crude accusations of her, I could not take it. More so, though, because the things he said—about my incapability to offer her anything—were true. Painfully so.
So I took my fury out on him. Granted, if anyone deserved my rage, it was this boy, for he had threatened the life of the one person I cared for. I am not proud of my actions, however. Especially after what it forced Susannah to do—to return to that lugar peligroso. I did not know that was what happened at the time; all I knew was that she collapsed on the ground, at the same time that *he* went limp in my hands. I feared the worst.
The following day she came to me. I was overlooking my own headstone, wondering if she would ever forgive me for my sinful behavior. Wondering how I could face her again, and not take her into my arms as I so wanted to do. Suddenly, there she was. There was such sorrow in her face that I reached out my hand to comfort her, and gratefully, she took it.
And I could not believe what she said next. I tried to apologize, but she stopped me—she told me it wasn't my fault, but before I could interject, she finished the sentence with "if you don't feel the same way about me as I do about you."
All I could think was, "Nombre de Dios!"
I did not think it was possible. Susannah could not return my feelings. It was not physically possible—a living person, even a mediator such as she, could not love a ghost.
Apparently, though, my actions were not as despicable as I had thought. The kiss we shared, which I was sure she regretted, she claimed was the best thing that ever happened to her. Could it be. . .?
Suddenly, the rush of passion returned, and I swept her into my arms and kissed her again. I was positive this time that she returned it, with as much zeal and fervor as I had. Susannah, this striking human being, cared for me, nothing but a spirit. It was wondrous and unthinkable. At this point, I did not even think about what could possibly happen down the road. She said it did not matter to her that I was not alive, that none of that mattered, that it would not hurt her.
I wish I didn't believe her then. If I hadn't, I could have saved her.
Because she was wrong.
It has hurt her. More than any physical pain she has ever endured.
I should not have believed her.
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Chapter 3 coming soon—get those tissues ready! ;-)
Remember—reviews make happy authors, and happy authors make faster stories. =)
2004 by Carolyn
Carolyn984@aol.com
"If loving you is wrong, then my heart just won't let me be right
Because I'm drowned in you and I won't pull through without you by my side. . ." –Mariah Carey
-------------------------------------
But as I said, things are never fair. When her younger stepbrother entered the room to see how she was doing—her forehead was badly bruised and cut, no doubt by the same hombre malisimo who had taken my life—I broke our kiss. Suddenly I realized what I had done, the sin I was sure I had committed. I felt as dirty as that boy who had kissed Susannah in his automobile, as filthy, but even more so because I had no right to. I was dead.
I could not—could *not*--act upon my feelings. It was not right.
But Susannah. . . she—I am sure I am not mistaken—she returned my kiss. Although I was not living, she kissed me as though I was. There was passion in that kiss. That I know I did not hallucinate.
But what could I do? It was wrong of me to have acted upon my emotions as I had. I could not draw Susannah—a living young woman—into my tainted desires. She was alive, I was not. She could not love me.
So I tried to stay away from her. I only hoped that I was not hurting her by doing so, making her think that she did something wrong, because she hadn't. It was me. I was the wrong-doer.
And then that man—that escuso horrible por un hombre—came back into her life. The very same man who had left her to die in that tierra de sombras. . . he returned, and had tried to harm Susannah again. I did not know this, of course, until he—el bastardo—sent her roses. I was furious.
And of course, I later was driven by my emotions once again. I could not help it. He—that cobarde—came into Susannah's room and made such crude accusations of her, I could not take it. More so, though, because the things he said—about my incapability to offer her anything—were true. Painfully so.
So I took my fury out on him. Granted, if anyone deserved my rage, it was this boy, for he had threatened the life of the one person I cared for. I am not proud of my actions, however. Especially after what it forced Susannah to do—to return to that lugar peligroso. I did not know that was what happened at the time; all I knew was that she collapsed on the ground, at the same time that *he* went limp in my hands. I feared the worst.
The following day she came to me. I was overlooking my own headstone, wondering if she would ever forgive me for my sinful behavior. Wondering how I could face her again, and not take her into my arms as I so wanted to do. Suddenly, there she was. There was such sorrow in her face that I reached out my hand to comfort her, and gratefully, she took it.
And I could not believe what she said next. I tried to apologize, but she stopped me—she told me it wasn't my fault, but before I could interject, she finished the sentence with "if you don't feel the same way about me as I do about you."
All I could think was, "Nombre de Dios!"
I did not think it was possible. Susannah could not return my feelings. It was not physically possible—a living person, even a mediator such as she, could not love a ghost.
Apparently, though, my actions were not as despicable as I had thought. The kiss we shared, which I was sure she regretted, she claimed was the best thing that ever happened to her. Could it be. . .?
Suddenly, the rush of passion returned, and I swept her into my arms and kissed her again. I was positive this time that she returned it, with as much zeal and fervor as I had. Susannah, this striking human being, cared for me, nothing but a spirit. It was wondrous and unthinkable. At this point, I did not even think about what could possibly happen down the road. She said it did not matter to her that I was not alive, that none of that mattered, that it would not hurt her.
I wish I didn't believe her then. If I hadn't, I could have saved her.
Because she was wrong.
It has hurt her. More than any physical pain she has ever endured.
I should not have believed her.
--------------------------------------------
Chapter 3 coming soon—get those tissues ready! ;-)
Remember—reviews make happy authors, and happy authors make faster stories. =)
2004 by Carolyn
