Okay, I'm high on Diet Vanilla Coke, just so I could stay up late and write
this for you, okay? Katie's hotmail and fanfiction isn't working, but we
have both worked on this chapter. Kind of. Oh, okay, not that much. But
yeah, it's here, isn't it? So be happy!
Purtymanagurl58 – thanks for the cookie. It was lovely.
Holidays are almost over!!! *Cries.*
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Numb.
That was how I felt. This terrible numbness has infected my entire body, all but my mind. My fingers tingled horribly, my skin crept, and my spine had endless shivers rampaging up and down. My arms and legs always felt like lead, and my chest was so heavy all the time, that breathing was becoming more and more difficult for me. But the feeling of numbness, it was appallingly uncomfortable, painful at times.
At least it was nothing compared to when . . .
Oh God, am I EVER going to get over that?
Apparently not.
Why couldn't I just let go of the past? Accept everything that had happened as true, and just move on with life? Why did I have to push Jesse away like that? It felt like someone had stolen a vital half of me, a part of me that I needed to live. I felt half-dead. And trust me, I know what it's like to have no life in me. I've had first hand experience, as you may have recalled. So give me a break. You can't just "get over" your one true love stabbing you callously. Even if he was under some crummy curse. That's not how the game was played.
But everything I did, every thought that darted through my head, always reflected Jesse, or Paul, or the Shadow Lands, or being a ghost . . . or my guilt. I knew that Jesse was right. I was weak, wasn't I? I was giving in. This love that I felt for Jesse had never, EVER died. I'd always been clinging onto it with all the hope that I had, when Jesse was still cursed. Thinking that there might have been a way for both of us to get through this. But now that everything was over, it was hardest of all. My grip on this hope was getting slippery. My hands were blistered and red. And tired. They could only take so much holding on, before they just gave up.
Like me.
Everything was dark out, now. All the Ackermans were in the house, unknowing of the fact that their step-sister/daughter was in emotional turmoil. Joy. I'm so proud. Reeeeally.
I sat tensely on my bed, thinking. I remembered coming home with Jesse after that night on the beach. Where he'd . . . he'd given me his LIFE. After one hundred and fifty years of living as an unseen, unheard, untouched ghost, he'd just thrown it away to me. To show that he loved me. And I realized that, but I couldn't believe that he still did it. It just murdered me all over again to live with the knowledge that he was still dead. Still unseen, unheard, untouched. Every minute of being awake, my head ached with the recognition. I knew it had hurt him to do that. Shit, it had probably been the hardest decision of his life, right? But he'd done it.
And how had I repaid him?
I'd told him to get out, because it was all too hard for me.
I'm a criminal. I should be hung. Burnt at the stake. Anything! God, I sucked so much it was not funny. I was so low, that the earth's mantle looked shallow. Why couldn't I just fade into nothing, and have my essence drift away with the breeze? Then no one would feel anymore pain. I wouldn't be around to bring them down.
I breathed sharply. Breathing. It was something that I constantly had to remind myself to do. Like my lungs did not feel like functioning all the time. My lungs were giving up on me, because I had given up on Jesse.
Because I suck.
Remember?
It seemed like, all my life, I'd been living in a dream. A fantasy, where everything was so simple compared to now.
Shit happens, move on?
All part of growing up?
Not everyone in this world was bad?
Accept the consequences of our actions?
Live life to the full?
True love never dies?
* Ha.
What if your true love was already dead?
What then, huh?
Yeah. Thought so.
. . . Oh, man . . .
My shoulders were very rigid, and the muscles in my neck and back were beginning to hurt from the strain. My lips were very pursed, and my eyes were very misty for some reason. It seemed that after . . . um, everything that had happened, I thought way too much about life and death. And pain. And love. And wondering where the hell God was, if there even was one. What, what was happening to me? WHY was all this crap happening? It just wasn't RIGHT. I did everything I was supposed to as a mediator! EVERYTHING! So, a couple of ribs got cracked, a couple of noses got bloody, so what? Everyone turned out okay. I did what I was supposed to, so what was the DEAL?! Why was I being punished, so cruelly? Someone up there must really hate me . . . I mean, serious. I was a mediator. A freak. I was snared by a forbidden love – in love with a ghost. A psychopath wanted me. And, it was bad enough that I had been killed at a time where my life had taken the ultimate plunge. But to be pulled back into it, that was wrong. Past wrong.
And Jesse thought he was doing me a favour . . .
Was he ever wrong.
Oh, God. I'm getting way suicidal sounding now, aren't I? Great. More opportunity to bum out a whole bunch of other people. No, I have more respect for Jesse than to waste such a precious gift that had been such a momentous sacrifice on his part. I couldn't do that to him.
I could never do that.
. . . Why was I being tortured so?
Nothing made any sense. How did Jesse know that Paul was back? I sent him to . . . well, I don't know where. But it was somewhere bad, if the way Father Dom had reacted was any indication. He couldn't get back from there. Never, could he. So how had he?
Someone *down* must like him.
Shivers rioted over my skin mercilessly. It was horrible. Why did I always feel so terribly cold? Always? Like I was trapped in a prison of ice, immobile, frozen . . . Preserved on forever, so the pain would never stop.
It would really suck to be immortal, huh?
My head felt cloudy still. Like someone had injected a toxic gas into my skull, killing off all the joys of my life. Every time that I had laughed, seemed to die on my lips. Every tear of happiness dehydrated in my eye. Every fresh breath of oxygen was polluted. And every moment with Jesse ceased to exist.
I was partly glad. That meant this pain would stop, right? It would go away? And I wouldn't always hurt? My heart would stop smashing? I would be able to breathe again? Right? RIGHT?!
With that, I buried my face into my hands to stifle the sound of my cries. I hunched over, my whole body going stiff and tense. Air was held in my lungs as I tried to force it out quietly. MY hands were gripping my face so hard that that were shaking. My hair was everywhere, hanging loosely by my face. Lifeless . . . like I wanted to be.
If it meant that I could stop this deception.
. . . My hands were still shaking.
If I had have been holding a glass it would have slipped and shattered by now.
Shaking, so hard.
So . . . so scared.
I didn't know what I was scared of, exactly. Was it that I might have lost Jesse forever? Ha, might of. I had. Paul had seen to that. If he was back, Jesse and I didn't have a ghost of a chance.
Pun intended.
My hands slid forcefully down my face. I released a shuddering breath, and trembled from the cold that I felt. I swung me feet onto the bed, and sat cross-legged.
Still bloody shaking.
Now the pins and needles were starting to invade. All over my body, tiny, excruciating spikes dug into my body, past my skin, and touching something as deep as my soul.
Suze, guess what . . .
. . . You're alone.
All alone.
And this bit's even better Suze . . .
You always were.
NO.
NO!
I had Jesse! Jesse HAD been here! He'd been here for me, supporting me, loving me, looking after me! He had always –
Had.
That's like, a past tense, isn't it?
Meaning it was here, and now it was gone.
Yes, but it HAD existed!
Well, it seemed to me like I would have been better off if it had never been. If I had have stayed alone, maybe none of this would have happened. I wouldn't have been so tortured. But . . . I wouldn't be who am was now.
Did I even like who I was?
Probably not. I was a loser. I didn't know what I had until it was gone. I wasn't strong enough to hold onto the one thing I wanted – and needed – most in my whole life.
Jesse.
Face it, Suze. Paulie's gonna getcha . . .
You know the funniest thing? Ever since that night, on the – well, yeah . . . I hadn't cried. No tears. Not one. Sure, they'd been screaming to come. But they never did. It was like, "what was the point? Add a little more water to the earth, why don't you? We got enough rain, why should I contribute?" And besides, what would a little wetness do? It wouldn't make a difference. Nothing would anymore.
Nothing.
Unless I could go back in time before all of this happened, with no memory of it. Start over. Make everything right again. New. Clean.
And NO Paul Slater.
This was all his fault.
Well, maybe mine a little, even.
But time travel was impossible, right? I mean, sure, Doc went on about his theories with mathematical and scientific paradoxes, and then there was all that stuff with time machines powered by flux capacitors and that Tardis phone-box thingie, but that wasn't real. Time travel was a waste of a thought.
Like so much else.
You know what? My theory is that God hates me. He really does. I think that God is an alcoholic. I do. No, really. He has his favourites, like Kelly Prescott, and he dotes upon them whenever he's in a jolly mood – God is a happy drunk, you see – and gives me the rest of the crap when he's working off his hangover. Or maybe he genuinely thinks it's funny, watching me shake violently while sitting on my bed, thinking about how horrible I am. It's like his daily dose of slap-stick entertainment or something. God hates my guts. He enjoys giving me hell, because I'm not good enough for heaven. You watch, next I'm going to be on a plane with a suicidal bomber. And if I don't get blown up, when the plane is just about to crash, I will grab the backpack instead of the parachute. And if by chance I survive the long fall, I'll be stuck in the mountains and I'll die of frostbite. And if I live through the frostbite – I'll get eaten by a polar bear. Or . . . whatever. Are they meat-eaters?
. . . I don't know, and I don't frigging care.
'Querida . . . '
My heartstrings twanged painfully, and I kind of choked on a gulp of oxygen. Coughing slightly, I turned my head wildly.
There was Jesse. Tall, dark, handsome, serious. He looked even taller for some reason . . . oh yeah, I was sitting, wasn't I? His stance was one of great masculinity, and his features were etched in solemnity.
Joy.
'I don't want to see you,' I said quietly to him, turning my head back to the window. So far away, the ocean . . . it was crashing violently. Water colliding, producing wild, foamy sea spray. Dark, deep, grim, vehement.
But so silent beneath the surface . . .
I was like the opposite of that, wasn't I?
I heard Jesse's ghostly footsteps echo dully as he stepped towards me. 'But I wish to see you, Susannah,' he said in a gentle, but firm voice. It was so different to the one that had slashed at my ears when he'd been –
Stop it!
'Well, phooey for you. But too bad. Conversation will only occur when both parties are willing to participate,' I said tonelessly, and lay back on my bed, digging myself under the covers. 'I'm sleeping. See?' I fake snored.
I could tell he was smiling.
But I wasn't. There was nothing funny about anything that was going on, no matter how hard we tried to hide it.
'Susannah, please. You ran away before I could say the things that you needed to hear. Things that would bring you to you senses –'
'Go,' I interrupted him from beneath the covers, lying on my side. Funny. As soon as he arrived, my emotional storm decreased to a whisper of occasional misgivings. Maybe, just maybe this could still have a chance of –
Suze, DON'T.
I felt no movement of my bed, but I did feel him sit next to me, where my knees and stomach made a little concave. Which was understandable. He had the ability to go right through my bed covers. No boundaries for him. Heck, he could touch my bare skin still, if he wanted to. This blanket was useless against him.
God. This sucks.
I shivered at the thought. See? I was still shivering. Even in the warmth of my quilt, I was still cold. Was it something to do with Jesse? See? I bet it was him. I bet me was making me shiver! Why did he do that? That was mean. Shivering's horrid.
Hang, I was shivering before. Jesse is off the hook.
Well, not really.
(A/N: Eyes are drooping . . . hang on, I'll go have some more coke . . . lol . . . back. If I have a hangover tomorrow, I'm blaming you all. Grrr. Nah, jokes . . .)
'Susannah, I refuse to leave. I live here also, you realize. I have every right to be here as you do.'
'No you don't,' I said, twitching angrily. Bossing me around . . . how dare he. 'This place is legally my family's. No "Hector De Silva" on the deeds to this house, let alone this room. You're dead, Jesse. You're a stupid little ghost. So go and rattle some chains elsewhere.'
A silence greeted my impulsive speech. A nasty silence.
'That's out of line,' he said at last, sounding very – oh God – offended. I felt him move away, and walk to the other side of the room.
Instantly, I felt like shit. I hadn't meant to say that. It just came out. I . . . I swear, I didn't mean to rub it in, that he was still dead. I didn't! It was just . . . oh God.
More guilt for Suze.
La.
Sighing, I sat up, leaning against the bed head, feeling ashamed. Great. I hurt him already this morning, and now I was adding insult to injury, going on about his deceased condition.
I'm a charmer, really I am.
I looked over at him very carefully, and saw that he was – get this – glaring at me. With these really angry "how could you do this to me?" eyes. I shook my head at him.
'That's right, everything's my fault, isn't it?' I said tiredly.
'Susannah, no.' His gaze softened. 'Of course not. You are being absurd –'
'Am I, Jesse? No, really. Let's review. You are still dead, because of me. All this happened because of me.'
'No, this is Paul's doing –'
'But I could have stopped him!' I shouted. 'I could have stopped all this from happening. Jesse, I took your life away! You were alive! You had a taste of oxygen, and a beating heart, and pumping blood! And I stole that away from you. It's all my fault. It really is.'
'Susannah, stop being rash! You are alive, purely because I gave it to you. Because I love you, Susannah. What has happened has happened. No magic, force or power can alter the past. I know that I have – ' he swallowed, looking away briefly, '- caused you pain, Susannah. But I love you so much. These feelings for you are stronger than anything I've ever known. I feel –'
'Don't!' I yelled, whipping off the bedcovers and standing up angrily. 'Stop it, Jesse. Stop saying that. You know it can't be. This can't be happening anymore. We both know it. Paul, he's ruined every chance of anything happening.'
Why wouldn't he just go?
Just go, Jesse . . .
Jesse's eyes darkened. 'You are fixated on this defeat, Susannah. You have convinced yourself that all hope is lost. It isn't! You can find it within yourself, if you just try –'
'I can't try,' I said. 'I'm all tried out. I've tried and tried, Jesse. And all I've found is reality. That I'm screwed. That Paul is going to get his revenge, or whatever. So maybe it would be better, for your safety, if you stayed away from me and just let him –'
'Susannah! STOP THINKING LIKE THIS!' he snarled turbulently at me, his fists balled furiously. 'I will NOT leave you at his mercy! I will never leave. I don't care what you say, I'm not going to surrender to this fear. I know that there is a way for us, Susannah. Even if you don't. I suggest that you open your damned eyes, and see!' He bashed his fist against the wall for emphasis, and managed, instead, to make all of my drawers burst open, clothes flying everywhere.
I stared at him, alarmed.
'Jesse, God. How do you do it?'
He stopped, his face creasing in bewilderment. 'What? Ghosts have certain powers that are triggered by anger or –'
'No,' I said impatiently, 'How do you exist like that? Hanging onto a hope that isn't there. Because Jesse, be logical. Paul is the most powerful person we've ever come up against, am I right?'
He gave me a steely look, but nodded shortly.
'Yes. Paul powerful. Me weak. You ghost. Add all of that together, and you get a very scary outcome. That's the way it's going to be.'
'And you believe it's okay to accept this fate?' he demanded, striding towards me, ignoring the clothes that were conveniently strewn across the floor, thanks to his need for anger-management.
'I'm accepting it because I know that nothing can change.'
'Nothing is final until –'
'Until what, Jesse? Until I'm dead? If I do anything stupid with Paul, I doubt it will be long before I am like that. Okay, so you want me dead now, I get it –'
'SUSANNAH!' he roared, almost in desperation now. 'This approach to the situation is not helping! You are lost! You are not thinking rationally! You . . . Dios, you . . . ' he spluttered, but groaned, and slapped his hands against himself in frustration.
I looked at him. He was unbelievable. Relentless . . .
'You're wrong,' I shrugged.
'No, I'm –'
'Shut up, you stubborn jackass! Just get out! Leave me to him, I really don't care anymore! I don't! This is how it's supposed to be. I'm just accepting it better than you, Jesse!' I screamed at him, my voice deafening and shrill.
All the noise in the house stopped for about ten seconds, but resumed as if nothing had happened.
Wow. The family support is blowing me away, guys . . . Don't all rush to hug me at once . . .
I sighed. What was the point of arguing anymore? I knew what was going to happen. I'd worked out the whole thing, ever since Jesse had uttered those words to Father Dom, of Paul still being alive. Or whatever he was. It was all written. And it was all going to happen one way, and one way only.
The look Jesse had plastered on his face, my God . . . He was furious with me for being so bleak, frustrated, desperate, forlorn, helpless . . . poor Jesse. He needs to open up to the truth.
That Paul's going to win this little game.
That it's Game Over, very soon.
And that's the way it is.
'Now,' I whispered, 'go.'
He blinked, looking impassive. But what he said next, it completely threw me. 'Susannah, do . . . do you not love me any more?'
I went dead still.
'What?' I gasped in disbelief. He was ASKING?
He repeated slowly, and calmly. But I could see his eyes, fiery, reckless and flickering dangerously.
'You need to ask? Do I love you? Isn't it obvious? I mean, after everything that's happened –'
'You are not answering the question, querida,' he said in a low growl, taking a step toward me.
I swallowed, and shuffled back. Why was it so hard to get out?
'I . . . Jesse, you know the answer –'
'I am hoping I do,' he said loudly . . . another step . . . 'But I need to hear it from you. Now, do you still love me?'
Love . . . it was the thing that I knew above anything else. Even if the whole world was spastic, I still knew love clearer than my own name. I knew the pain and devastation of it, I knew the joy and the passion that it elicited, and the danger of it. Love . . . my love for Jesse . . .
No matter how hard I insisted that it was dying, I was only kidding myself.
I could never stop loving him.
Never.
Never ever.
I would remember love above all other things.
Even if Jesse's memory faded, I'd know how beautiful he'd made me feel . . . the bliss, the ardour . . . It would not leave me.
'Jesse, I –'
But with a sickening jolt, I felt an explosion of pain in my skull. I cried out, and my hands shot to my head.
'QUERIDA! MOVE!'
I frowned, not registering the command properly. Such a pity really . . .
'Now why would she want to do that?' asked a voice that I knew was horribly familiar . . .
A piece of material was swiped under my jaw, and pulled me back firmly against the hard, warm chest of someone. A billion guesses who.
Panic so sever soared through me then. I could feel hot breath on my neck, and arms held me tightly so I wouldn't move.
Odd, I'd been so ready to accept this fate. Why was I so against it then?
'Did you miss me, Suze?' Paul sneered, shoving me right against him. I whimpered like the pathetic loser I was.
Oh, God . . .
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Suze has got some major denial stuff there. But yeah, oooh, Paul's made his big comeback. Oooh, come on, all together, "Oooh!" Okay, that'll do. So, what do you think? Please, long-winded reviews will earn you quick updates, lovelies!
Regards,
Predominantly MystAngel
. . . oh, and Katie.
Lol, nah. Hehehe. *Katie slaps Lolly silly.*
Purtymanagurl58 – thanks for the cookie. It was lovely.
Holidays are almost over!!! *Cries.*
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Numb.
That was how I felt. This terrible numbness has infected my entire body, all but my mind. My fingers tingled horribly, my skin crept, and my spine had endless shivers rampaging up and down. My arms and legs always felt like lead, and my chest was so heavy all the time, that breathing was becoming more and more difficult for me. But the feeling of numbness, it was appallingly uncomfortable, painful at times.
At least it was nothing compared to when . . .
Oh God, am I EVER going to get over that?
Apparently not.
Why couldn't I just let go of the past? Accept everything that had happened as true, and just move on with life? Why did I have to push Jesse away like that? It felt like someone had stolen a vital half of me, a part of me that I needed to live. I felt half-dead. And trust me, I know what it's like to have no life in me. I've had first hand experience, as you may have recalled. So give me a break. You can't just "get over" your one true love stabbing you callously. Even if he was under some crummy curse. That's not how the game was played.
But everything I did, every thought that darted through my head, always reflected Jesse, or Paul, or the Shadow Lands, or being a ghost . . . or my guilt. I knew that Jesse was right. I was weak, wasn't I? I was giving in. This love that I felt for Jesse had never, EVER died. I'd always been clinging onto it with all the hope that I had, when Jesse was still cursed. Thinking that there might have been a way for both of us to get through this. But now that everything was over, it was hardest of all. My grip on this hope was getting slippery. My hands were blistered and red. And tired. They could only take so much holding on, before they just gave up.
Like me.
Everything was dark out, now. All the Ackermans were in the house, unknowing of the fact that their step-sister/daughter was in emotional turmoil. Joy. I'm so proud. Reeeeally.
I sat tensely on my bed, thinking. I remembered coming home with Jesse after that night on the beach. Where he'd . . . he'd given me his LIFE. After one hundred and fifty years of living as an unseen, unheard, untouched ghost, he'd just thrown it away to me. To show that he loved me. And I realized that, but I couldn't believe that he still did it. It just murdered me all over again to live with the knowledge that he was still dead. Still unseen, unheard, untouched. Every minute of being awake, my head ached with the recognition. I knew it had hurt him to do that. Shit, it had probably been the hardest decision of his life, right? But he'd done it.
And how had I repaid him?
I'd told him to get out, because it was all too hard for me.
I'm a criminal. I should be hung. Burnt at the stake. Anything! God, I sucked so much it was not funny. I was so low, that the earth's mantle looked shallow. Why couldn't I just fade into nothing, and have my essence drift away with the breeze? Then no one would feel anymore pain. I wouldn't be around to bring them down.
I breathed sharply. Breathing. It was something that I constantly had to remind myself to do. Like my lungs did not feel like functioning all the time. My lungs were giving up on me, because I had given up on Jesse.
Because I suck.
Remember?
It seemed like, all my life, I'd been living in a dream. A fantasy, where everything was so simple compared to now.
Shit happens, move on?
All part of growing up?
Not everyone in this world was bad?
Accept the consequences of our actions?
Live life to the full?
True love never dies?
* Ha.
What if your true love was already dead?
What then, huh?
Yeah. Thought so.
. . . Oh, man . . .
My shoulders were very rigid, and the muscles in my neck and back were beginning to hurt from the strain. My lips were very pursed, and my eyes were very misty for some reason. It seemed that after . . . um, everything that had happened, I thought way too much about life and death. And pain. And love. And wondering where the hell God was, if there even was one. What, what was happening to me? WHY was all this crap happening? It just wasn't RIGHT. I did everything I was supposed to as a mediator! EVERYTHING! So, a couple of ribs got cracked, a couple of noses got bloody, so what? Everyone turned out okay. I did what I was supposed to, so what was the DEAL?! Why was I being punished, so cruelly? Someone up there must really hate me . . . I mean, serious. I was a mediator. A freak. I was snared by a forbidden love – in love with a ghost. A psychopath wanted me. And, it was bad enough that I had been killed at a time where my life had taken the ultimate plunge. But to be pulled back into it, that was wrong. Past wrong.
And Jesse thought he was doing me a favour . . .
Was he ever wrong.
Oh, God. I'm getting way suicidal sounding now, aren't I? Great. More opportunity to bum out a whole bunch of other people. No, I have more respect for Jesse than to waste such a precious gift that had been such a momentous sacrifice on his part. I couldn't do that to him.
I could never do that.
. . . Why was I being tortured so?
Nothing made any sense. How did Jesse know that Paul was back? I sent him to . . . well, I don't know where. But it was somewhere bad, if the way Father Dom had reacted was any indication. He couldn't get back from there. Never, could he. So how had he?
Someone *down* must like him.
Shivers rioted over my skin mercilessly. It was horrible. Why did I always feel so terribly cold? Always? Like I was trapped in a prison of ice, immobile, frozen . . . Preserved on forever, so the pain would never stop.
It would really suck to be immortal, huh?
My head felt cloudy still. Like someone had injected a toxic gas into my skull, killing off all the joys of my life. Every time that I had laughed, seemed to die on my lips. Every tear of happiness dehydrated in my eye. Every fresh breath of oxygen was polluted. And every moment with Jesse ceased to exist.
I was partly glad. That meant this pain would stop, right? It would go away? And I wouldn't always hurt? My heart would stop smashing? I would be able to breathe again? Right? RIGHT?!
With that, I buried my face into my hands to stifle the sound of my cries. I hunched over, my whole body going stiff and tense. Air was held in my lungs as I tried to force it out quietly. MY hands were gripping my face so hard that that were shaking. My hair was everywhere, hanging loosely by my face. Lifeless . . . like I wanted to be.
If it meant that I could stop this deception.
. . . My hands were still shaking.
If I had have been holding a glass it would have slipped and shattered by now.
Shaking, so hard.
So . . . so scared.
I didn't know what I was scared of, exactly. Was it that I might have lost Jesse forever? Ha, might of. I had. Paul had seen to that. If he was back, Jesse and I didn't have a ghost of a chance.
Pun intended.
My hands slid forcefully down my face. I released a shuddering breath, and trembled from the cold that I felt. I swung me feet onto the bed, and sat cross-legged.
Still bloody shaking.
Now the pins and needles were starting to invade. All over my body, tiny, excruciating spikes dug into my body, past my skin, and touching something as deep as my soul.
Suze, guess what . . .
. . . You're alone.
All alone.
And this bit's even better Suze . . .
You always were.
NO.
NO!
I had Jesse! Jesse HAD been here! He'd been here for me, supporting me, loving me, looking after me! He had always –
Had.
That's like, a past tense, isn't it?
Meaning it was here, and now it was gone.
Yes, but it HAD existed!
Well, it seemed to me like I would have been better off if it had never been. If I had have stayed alone, maybe none of this would have happened. I wouldn't have been so tortured. But . . . I wouldn't be who am was now.
Did I even like who I was?
Probably not. I was a loser. I didn't know what I had until it was gone. I wasn't strong enough to hold onto the one thing I wanted – and needed – most in my whole life.
Jesse.
Face it, Suze. Paulie's gonna getcha . . .
You know the funniest thing? Ever since that night, on the – well, yeah . . . I hadn't cried. No tears. Not one. Sure, they'd been screaming to come. But they never did. It was like, "what was the point? Add a little more water to the earth, why don't you? We got enough rain, why should I contribute?" And besides, what would a little wetness do? It wouldn't make a difference. Nothing would anymore.
Nothing.
Unless I could go back in time before all of this happened, with no memory of it. Start over. Make everything right again. New. Clean.
And NO Paul Slater.
This was all his fault.
Well, maybe mine a little, even.
But time travel was impossible, right? I mean, sure, Doc went on about his theories with mathematical and scientific paradoxes, and then there was all that stuff with time machines powered by flux capacitors and that Tardis phone-box thingie, but that wasn't real. Time travel was a waste of a thought.
Like so much else.
You know what? My theory is that God hates me. He really does. I think that God is an alcoholic. I do. No, really. He has his favourites, like Kelly Prescott, and he dotes upon them whenever he's in a jolly mood – God is a happy drunk, you see – and gives me the rest of the crap when he's working off his hangover. Or maybe he genuinely thinks it's funny, watching me shake violently while sitting on my bed, thinking about how horrible I am. It's like his daily dose of slap-stick entertainment or something. God hates my guts. He enjoys giving me hell, because I'm not good enough for heaven. You watch, next I'm going to be on a plane with a suicidal bomber. And if I don't get blown up, when the plane is just about to crash, I will grab the backpack instead of the parachute. And if by chance I survive the long fall, I'll be stuck in the mountains and I'll die of frostbite. And if I live through the frostbite – I'll get eaten by a polar bear. Or . . . whatever. Are they meat-eaters?
. . . I don't know, and I don't frigging care.
'Querida . . . '
My heartstrings twanged painfully, and I kind of choked on a gulp of oxygen. Coughing slightly, I turned my head wildly.
There was Jesse. Tall, dark, handsome, serious. He looked even taller for some reason . . . oh yeah, I was sitting, wasn't I? His stance was one of great masculinity, and his features were etched in solemnity.
Joy.
'I don't want to see you,' I said quietly to him, turning my head back to the window. So far away, the ocean . . . it was crashing violently. Water colliding, producing wild, foamy sea spray. Dark, deep, grim, vehement.
But so silent beneath the surface . . .
I was like the opposite of that, wasn't I?
I heard Jesse's ghostly footsteps echo dully as he stepped towards me. 'But I wish to see you, Susannah,' he said in a gentle, but firm voice. It was so different to the one that had slashed at my ears when he'd been –
Stop it!
'Well, phooey for you. But too bad. Conversation will only occur when both parties are willing to participate,' I said tonelessly, and lay back on my bed, digging myself under the covers. 'I'm sleeping. See?' I fake snored.
I could tell he was smiling.
But I wasn't. There was nothing funny about anything that was going on, no matter how hard we tried to hide it.
'Susannah, please. You ran away before I could say the things that you needed to hear. Things that would bring you to you senses –'
'Go,' I interrupted him from beneath the covers, lying on my side. Funny. As soon as he arrived, my emotional storm decreased to a whisper of occasional misgivings. Maybe, just maybe this could still have a chance of –
Suze, DON'T.
I felt no movement of my bed, but I did feel him sit next to me, where my knees and stomach made a little concave. Which was understandable. He had the ability to go right through my bed covers. No boundaries for him. Heck, he could touch my bare skin still, if he wanted to. This blanket was useless against him.
God. This sucks.
I shivered at the thought. See? I was still shivering. Even in the warmth of my quilt, I was still cold. Was it something to do with Jesse? See? I bet it was him. I bet me was making me shiver! Why did he do that? That was mean. Shivering's horrid.
Hang, I was shivering before. Jesse is off the hook.
Well, not really.
(A/N: Eyes are drooping . . . hang on, I'll go have some more coke . . . lol . . . back. If I have a hangover tomorrow, I'm blaming you all. Grrr. Nah, jokes . . .)
'Susannah, I refuse to leave. I live here also, you realize. I have every right to be here as you do.'
'No you don't,' I said, twitching angrily. Bossing me around . . . how dare he. 'This place is legally my family's. No "Hector De Silva" on the deeds to this house, let alone this room. You're dead, Jesse. You're a stupid little ghost. So go and rattle some chains elsewhere.'
A silence greeted my impulsive speech. A nasty silence.
'That's out of line,' he said at last, sounding very – oh God – offended. I felt him move away, and walk to the other side of the room.
Instantly, I felt like shit. I hadn't meant to say that. It just came out. I . . . I swear, I didn't mean to rub it in, that he was still dead. I didn't! It was just . . . oh God.
More guilt for Suze.
La.
Sighing, I sat up, leaning against the bed head, feeling ashamed. Great. I hurt him already this morning, and now I was adding insult to injury, going on about his deceased condition.
I'm a charmer, really I am.
I looked over at him very carefully, and saw that he was – get this – glaring at me. With these really angry "how could you do this to me?" eyes. I shook my head at him.
'That's right, everything's my fault, isn't it?' I said tiredly.
'Susannah, no.' His gaze softened. 'Of course not. You are being absurd –'
'Am I, Jesse? No, really. Let's review. You are still dead, because of me. All this happened because of me.'
'No, this is Paul's doing –'
'But I could have stopped him!' I shouted. 'I could have stopped all this from happening. Jesse, I took your life away! You were alive! You had a taste of oxygen, and a beating heart, and pumping blood! And I stole that away from you. It's all my fault. It really is.'
'Susannah, stop being rash! You are alive, purely because I gave it to you. Because I love you, Susannah. What has happened has happened. No magic, force or power can alter the past. I know that I have – ' he swallowed, looking away briefly, '- caused you pain, Susannah. But I love you so much. These feelings for you are stronger than anything I've ever known. I feel –'
'Don't!' I yelled, whipping off the bedcovers and standing up angrily. 'Stop it, Jesse. Stop saying that. You know it can't be. This can't be happening anymore. We both know it. Paul, he's ruined every chance of anything happening.'
Why wouldn't he just go?
Just go, Jesse . . .
Jesse's eyes darkened. 'You are fixated on this defeat, Susannah. You have convinced yourself that all hope is lost. It isn't! You can find it within yourself, if you just try –'
'I can't try,' I said. 'I'm all tried out. I've tried and tried, Jesse. And all I've found is reality. That I'm screwed. That Paul is going to get his revenge, or whatever. So maybe it would be better, for your safety, if you stayed away from me and just let him –'
'Susannah! STOP THINKING LIKE THIS!' he snarled turbulently at me, his fists balled furiously. 'I will NOT leave you at his mercy! I will never leave. I don't care what you say, I'm not going to surrender to this fear. I know that there is a way for us, Susannah. Even if you don't. I suggest that you open your damned eyes, and see!' He bashed his fist against the wall for emphasis, and managed, instead, to make all of my drawers burst open, clothes flying everywhere.
I stared at him, alarmed.
'Jesse, God. How do you do it?'
He stopped, his face creasing in bewilderment. 'What? Ghosts have certain powers that are triggered by anger or –'
'No,' I said impatiently, 'How do you exist like that? Hanging onto a hope that isn't there. Because Jesse, be logical. Paul is the most powerful person we've ever come up against, am I right?'
He gave me a steely look, but nodded shortly.
'Yes. Paul powerful. Me weak. You ghost. Add all of that together, and you get a very scary outcome. That's the way it's going to be.'
'And you believe it's okay to accept this fate?' he demanded, striding towards me, ignoring the clothes that were conveniently strewn across the floor, thanks to his need for anger-management.
'I'm accepting it because I know that nothing can change.'
'Nothing is final until –'
'Until what, Jesse? Until I'm dead? If I do anything stupid with Paul, I doubt it will be long before I am like that. Okay, so you want me dead now, I get it –'
'SUSANNAH!' he roared, almost in desperation now. 'This approach to the situation is not helping! You are lost! You are not thinking rationally! You . . . Dios, you . . . ' he spluttered, but groaned, and slapped his hands against himself in frustration.
I looked at him. He was unbelievable. Relentless . . .
'You're wrong,' I shrugged.
'No, I'm –'
'Shut up, you stubborn jackass! Just get out! Leave me to him, I really don't care anymore! I don't! This is how it's supposed to be. I'm just accepting it better than you, Jesse!' I screamed at him, my voice deafening and shrill.
All the noise in the house stopped for about ten seconds, but resumed as if nothing had happened.
Wow. The family support is blowing me away, guys . . . Don't all rush to hug me at once . . .
I sighed. What was the point of arguing anymore? I knew what was going to happen. I'd worked out the whole thing, ever since Jesse had uttered those words to Father Dom, of Paul still being alive. Or whatever he was. It was all written. And it was all going to happen one way, and one way only.
The look Jesse had plastered on his face, my God . . . He was furious with me for being so bleak, frustrated, desperate, forlorn, helpless . . . poor Jesse. He needs to open up to the truth.
That Paul's going to win this little game.
That it's Game Over, very soon.
And that's the way it is.
'Now,' I whispered, 'go.'
He blinked, looking impassive. But what he said next, it completely threw me. 'Susannah, do . . . do you not love me any more?'
I went dead still.
'What?' I gasped in disbelief. He was ASKING?
He repeated slowly, and calmly. But I could see his eyes, fiery, reckless and flickering dangerously.
'You need to ask? Do I love you? Isn't it obvious? I mean, after everything that's happened –'
'You are not answering the question, querida,' he said in a low growl, taking a step toward me.
I swallowed, and shuffled back. Why was it so hard to get out?
'I . . . Jesse, you know the answer –'
'I am hoping I do,' he said loudly . . . another step . . . 'But I need to hear it from you. Now, do you still love me?'
Love . . . it was the thing that I knew above anything else. Even if the whole world was spastic, I still knew love clearer than my own name. I knew the pain and devastation of it, I knew the joy and the passion that it elicited, and the danger of it. Love . . . my love for Jesse . . .
No matter how hard I insisted that it was dying, I was only kidding myself.
I could never stop loving him.
Never.
Never ever.
I would remember love above all other things.
Even if Jesse's memory faded, I'd know how beautiful he'd made me feel . . . the bliss, the ardour . . . It would not leave me.
'Jesse, I –'
But with a sickening jolt, I felt an explosion of pain in my skull. I cried out, and my hands shot to my head.
'QUERIDA! MOVE!'
I frowned, not registering the command properly. Such a pity really . . .
'Now why would she want to do that?' asked a voice that I knew was horribly familiar . . .
A piece of material was swiped under my jaw, and pulled me back firmly against the hard, warm chest of someone. A billion guesses who.
Panic so sever soared through me then. I could feel hot breath on my neck, and arms held me tightly so I wouldn't move.
Odd, I'd been so ready to accept this fate. Why was I so against it then?
'Did you miss me, Suze?' Paul sneered, shoving me right against him. I whimpered like the pathetic loser I was.
Oh, God . . .
**************************************************************************** ********
Suze has got some major denial stuff there. But yeah, oooh, Paul's made his big comeback. Oooh, come on, all together, "Oooh!" Okay, that'll do. So, what do you think? Please, long-winded reviews will earn you quick updates, lovelies!
Regards,
Predominantly MystAngel
. . . oh, and Katie.
Lol, nah. Hehehe. *Katie slaps Lolly silly.*