Raven beauty- Ah, such kind, kind reviews. I am truly humbled. In case it isn't obvious, my fav is actually Blossom, that's why a lot of the story (and a lot of Inner Turmoil) is from her perspective, only because I think I can relate to her more. Oh, a song actually reminds you of my story?! See, I have this funny thing, where I'll start picking out tons of songs by various artists that totally put me in the mind of my story. If you ever listen to Evanescence, yeah, complete mirror image.

Author's note at bottom (to lessen spoilers)

Heightened Tensions- Chapter 18

It was probably around midnight when Blossom awoke to the sound of screaming.

At first she thought she had been dreaming, her eyes gummy as she tried to blink the lingering remnants of sleep from her lids. Blossom's subconscious imagination had been playing movie reels since she'd hit the pillow, and it felt strange to be so rudely interrupted from her bliss by sounds of such terrified panic.

Groaning pathetically, she sat up slowly, the covers splayed awkwardly across her body, her hair falling in unnatural curls around her face, and she haphazardly threw the comforter to the floor. Sitting up in bed, she took a few moments to let her heart settle from the sudden jolt, and soon she was fully aware, but still didn't quite know what was happening. The only thing she did know, was that she really wanted to flatten someone for waking her so late.

"BUTTERCUP!!! BUTTERCUP!!!"

It took Blossom mere seconds to register Bubbles's voice in her auditory functions, and it took her even less time to read the intense distress in her sister's choking voice. Blossom could hear the professor's voice among Bubbles's cries for help, and he seemed to be on the verge of shouting.

Then it hit her like a baseball bat to the face. They'd both been gone when Blossom had gone to sleep. Something had clearly happened, and judging by the absence of Buttercup's harsher voice in the uproar, something had happened to her.

Blossom was suddenly very wide awake now, and she nearly shot out of her room, just in time to see the professor drag Buttercup's prone form to the couch, where he set her down gingerly across the cushions. She stopped at the top of the stairs and watched with horror, as Buttercup's limp arm slid over the edge of the couch where it hit the floor, her wrist bending oddly as her hand crumpled to the side. Blossom couldn't see Buttercup's face, or most of her body for that matter, because the professor was blocking her line of vision. He was crouched over Buttercup, carefully, but hastily stuffing a pillow underneath her to support her head. Blossom wasn't sure if she wanted to see, afraid of what would meet her eyes.

She covered her mouth to ward off the scream that was rising quickly, and she felt her entire body go tense with the tugging anxiety that threatened to pull every muscle from her limbs. She suddenly felt like she wanted to run, the warmth in her face almost too much to bear as she watched her nearly-dead sister lie silently on the couch. She didn't dare say a word, but continued to watch the professor's back as he looked Buttercup over.

Then a sudden sniffle diverted Blossom's attention, and she turned to see Bubbles, pressed up against the fireplace. Her saucer eyes were zoned in on Buttercup, her jaw set as she stared blankly, almost like she didn't believe what she was seeing. Blossom looked Bubbles over carefully, and could see that her body was shaking. Her clothes were nearly torn, and there were dark smudges of dirt and grime all over her legs and skirt. Her normally sparkling hair was so destroyed, that Blossom wouldn't have been able to recognize her, if not for her radiantly blue eyes, which were now unpolished and dull.

Bubbles suddenly turned her gaze and met Blossom straight in the eye. At first Bubbles gave a startled leap at suddenly seeing her sister standing above her, but a second later she was staring at Blossom as if seeing her for the first time in years. Her face looked so shocked and frightened, that for a second Blossom thought she was looking into the past, staring into a shadow of what Bubbles once was. Bubbles didn't say anything, but her expression told her enough. Something terribly traumatic had just occurred, and Blossom wanted to know what happened. She wanted to know if Buttercup had been hurt.

Blossom rushed down the stairs and stopped next to Bubbles, who was still watching her carefully. Their eyes locked for a short while, then Blossom finally spoke,

"What happened?"

"Attacked…" was all Bubbles said, and her lower lip quivered as if a horrible memory had just resurfaced in her thoughts. Blossom bit her lip nervously, anxious to be told what happened, but not willing to grill her sister for information if her reactions were going to be unreasonable. She knew Bubbles was going to be hard to get anything out of, so instead she turned to where the professor was still looking Buttercup over. What she saw caused a flood of relief to wash over her. For her sister wasn't horribly mutilated after all.

Buttercup's eyes were shut, her gaunt face white as snow, creating a strange contrast with her stark ebony hair. She looked very closed and weak, her breathing shallow, a frail chest jumping weakly like a stumbling bird attempting to fly for the first time. There was a tear in the front of her shirt, and Blossom stared at her sister's partially concealed stomach for a long time, not sure if what she was seeing was actually blood.

The professor noticed this too, and he pulled up the bottom of her torn shirt, exposing her swollen abdomen, a fresh bruise just starting to bloom. A thin linear cut slid just under her rib cage to her hip, and it was oozing dark blood, thick like pressing the innards slowly from a pile of grapes. For a second both Blossom and the professor just stared. His hands had frozen, and Blossom was sure that his face had suddenly drained of color at what he was seeing. Blossom could feel the feverish white in her own skin at the result of her shock

"Bubbles, what happened?" the professor finally asked, his voice strangely calm. But when Bubbles didn't respond, he exploded.

"GODAMMNIT WHAT HAPPENED?!?!"

And Blossom nearly leaped out of her skin, jumping backwards with a panicked gasp as the decibels of their normally placid father shattered the limits. He had never screamed before, not like that. Standing so close to him, she had taken the full force of his anger, and felt the full weight of that negative impulse bearing down on her.

Bubbles screamed, her cry echoing through the spacious living room, a direct result of being the object of the professor's anger. He had never yelled at her before, and Blossom could definitely tell that she didn't exactly need that added stress at the moment. She already looked bad enough, without having her father scream at her, which in itself was a rarity. Blossom felt bad for her, so bad, that she could almost fool herself into thinking the professor was yelling at her.

For a second Blossom thought Bubbles was going to keep her mouth shut, her haunted gaze shifting into a steely glare as her and the professor met eyes. Her breathing was rough, and her shoulders heaved as a burst of angry words threatened to explode from her mouth. Blossom tried catching her sister's gaze, shaking her head nervously, trying to cage her sister's rage, but Bubbles never looked at her.

"She tried to help me… and passed out…" Bubbles said quietly, and looked as if she would say more, but after a few moments of silence nothing happened. The professor stared blankly, his teeth clenched , his jaw visibly very tense, but before he could say another word to her, Bubbles turned and fled from the room. She ran into her room and slammed the door. Blossom watched the door, expecting Bubbles to reemerge, but she never did. She suspected that her sister was probably crying.

Buttercup stirred, and both Blossom and the professor shifted their attention back onto her. She didn't wake, but she made a small whimper in her throat while trying to shift her body, but something was obviously causing her great pain.

"Blossom, go get some water for her… and a towel," the professor said quietly, grabbing a blanket from a chair next to him and unrolling it. Blossom hesitated for a beat, not wanting to leave Buttercup's side.

"NOW!" he bellowed, and yelping like a wounded dog she turned and ran into the kitchen, her hands shaking as she poured cool tap water into a glass. Now he was yelling at her. What a fantastic Sunday this was turning out to be.

She grabbed a clean towel from the rack against the wall, and crept back into the living room cautiously, eyeing the professor like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. Tiptoeing carefully, afraid to set him off and disturb her wounded sister, she moved back to the couch and handed the glass to the professor. He grabbed it hastily, tearing the towel from her grasp, and proceeded to wipe the blood carefully from Buttercup's skin before lying the soft blanket over her.

"W-what's wrong with her?" Blossom stuttered quietly, fearful that any sort of words would upset him further. He didn't reply, but instead, he tipped Buttercup's head up gingerly and brought the glass to her purple-tinted lips, dry as parched paper. Her eyes fluttered weakly, but she never made any motion to signal that she was aware of anything.

As soon as the cool water touched her lips there was a sudden explosion in her. Buttercup gasped, and shot upwards, screaming in pain as she did so, knocking the glass violently from the professor's hand. It flew across the room, and Blossom had to duck as it sailed over her head, smashing into the brick fireplace behind her. Buttercup whimpered again, and her eyes rolled as her body went into a sudden convulsion from what must have been pain, incredible pain, for her face bled whiter than ever before.

"Buttercup!" Blossom cried desperately, but she didn't respond to her calls. Buttercup didn't seem to be aware that either of them were hovering over her. She collapsed back down onto the couch, making fumbling grasps at her abdomen as she continued to groan weakly. The professor was breathing heavily now, visibly anxious and afraid, because in such a tense moment, neither of them really knew how to deal with this emergency.

"D-Do I need to call an ambulance?" Blossom asked quietly. Suddenly regaining a small shred of composure, Buttercup lashed out.

"NO! I'M FINE!!"

"But Buttercup, you might have some broken ribs, you need to see a doctor-" the professor started to say, trying at the same time to restrain the girl who was still thrashing in her attempts to sit up. "Stop! You're going to hurt yourself!"
Buttercup relaxed, and heaved a great big sigh, like she'd just pushed a ton of weight off of her chest, breathing freely for the first time. Her breathing evened, and she closed her eyes softly, her face regaining her color one ounce at a time.

"I… I'm fine… It's already getting better… I just got knocked around is all… nothing new…"

"You're already healing?" the professor asked incredulously, not willing to believe that she was free of pain. Buttercup snapped her eyes open and looked at him scornfully.

"I'm fine… now would you stop treating me like a little girl?!"

The professor backed away just slightly, still crouching, but he looked at her with a clear air of impatience. He looked none too pleased with her.

"This all goes back to what I was saying to you before… you've made yourself so weak, that you can't even-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get the picture, I got hurt because I've lost all my strength, that's what you're saying isn't it?"

"Buttercup, he only wants to help you, we just want to help you-" Blossom started to say, finally unable to bottle her emotions up any longer. Buttercup rounded on her, lifting her body just slightly on the couch.

"Who asked you, Red?! I don't need any of you so concerned about me-"

"Buttercup, you're destroying yourself, and you're just no good anymore!!" Blossom screamed, but as soon as it flew out of her mouth she instantly regretted it. Buttercup's eyes hazed over with anger, and she narrowed her brows just slightly, the smallest hint of a tear gathering at the corner of one of her almond eyes.

They stared each other down, none of them flinching. After what must have been forever of them just matching eyes, the professor shuddering in his own rage, they were interrupted by the reemergence of Bubbles from upstairs. She had stopped at the balcony, clutching a wad of tissue in her hands as she peered down at them with bleary eyes.

Buttercup turned her body to look up at Bubbles, and as soon as she saw her, she burst into an incredible display of tears. Blossom moved back, puzzled, and the professor shot a glare up at Bubbles who seemed to be undaunted by the chaos around her. Nobody knew what was happening, and nobody knew what had happened, and clearly nobody was going to readily get any information out of both parties. It appeared as if for now, they would have to deal with the situation at hand, and learn the facts as soon as things settled, because they weren't going to get anywhere presently.

The professor leaned forward and tried to console Buttercup, wrapping her tightly in a smothering embrace. She was mumbling something through her sobs, something that Blossom couldn't really understand, but thought with a stab of horror that she was saying something about someone getting killed.

"Buttercup, did someone die?" Blossom asked stupidly, knowing full well that she shouldn't have opened her mouth at all, for the professor gave her the iciest stare he had ever given anyone. All this screaming, all this anger and negative energy… she had to be alone… she couldn't take it anymore.

Blossom turned and ran, not aware of where her body was really taking her, but somehow she ended up in the professor's study. She could still hear Buttercup screaming, she could still hear the professor trying to calm her, but she wasn't listening. Sitting in the dark room, not bothering to turn the light on, Blossom kneeled down on the floor and cried, every hopeless thought and feeling inside of her looking for a release.

Then she heard it as much as felt it. A comforting warmth that snaked around her body, wrapping its thin tendrils of heated life around her shoulders. She gasped, at first surprised, pausing in her jolting sobs to let her mind understand what was happening. But she didn't need to think long, because she soon heard a voice, a thick manly purr that was unmistakable..

"Blossom, please don't cry, I'm here to comfort you…"

"Him! Leave me alone!"

He materialized just behind her, taking full shape in the darkness, his form solid against her body with his arms tightly around her in a strangling embrace. Something about Him on this night in particular was frightening to her, and she wanted him off of her.

"But Blossom, who else do you have to confide in on this most confusing night… I assure you, it can only get worse from here on…"

"You know about what happened?"

"Blossom… of course I know what happened, and I should say it wasn't pretty in the least…"

Blossom couldn't fight off her tears any more than she could fight Him off of her. He clearly wasn't going to budge, at least not yet. She sobbed heavily, and Him only clutched onto her tighter, so tight that she could feel the compression in her lungs. She only cried harder, out of her own mortal fear for her life, for her sisters, and for her own sorrow at never being told what was happening. Blossom didn't have the slightest trace of a clue as to what had transpired a short while ago, and she felt hopeless and useless at not being able to help with anything. She had only managed to get herself in the way.

"Then… what's wrong with Buttercup… why is she screaming?!"

Him sighed, and she could feel the heat of his breath as it passed over her neck. She shuddered inwardly, feeling vibes radiating from him that made her stomach quease over with a tense chill of fear. Something wasn't right at all… this was very bad…

"Buttercup…she is just letting too much eat away at her body. All of her emotions… they're destroying her… and she's falling deeper and closer to the end…"

"W-what do you mean?" Something about him saying the end disturbed her the most. There was something very haunting about his tone, something sinister, yet so full of a passion that she could never begin to pinpoint.

"Oooohhh… her weakness has left her useless, as you so eloquently put it my dear…" his voice hummed sweetly, and for the very first time Blossom was terrified, not of death or of pain, but of something very different. She could feel her defense responses kicking in, her muscles seizing up in his arms, her fists clenching in preparation to defend herself. She shuddered heavily, her eyes squeezing tight against the madness as she felt the soft warmth of his tongue slide against her skin. Her body froze in response. He was trying to seduce her, now, in this time of her family's ultimate peril. It was selfish and cruel, and she wanted no part in it… Yet, she couldn't muster the strength to push him off of her. He was too close, and too strong, and he would only hurt her if she fought back… but… she couldn't…

"No…" she breathed… her voice barely audible in the still darkness. He drew back.

"No?" he returned her words with a soft sneer, his voice harsher than before.

"Get away from me… now, before I hurt you…"

"Hurt me, Blossom?" he said silkily, letting a shred of humor slip into his voice. The bastard actually thought it was funny, and that just enraged her even further.

"I said… leave me alone before you set me off…"

"Ah, but I must turn you on first…"

Blossom felt her anger spill over around her, her eyes clouding over with reddened rage at the inappropriateness of his words. She spun her body and shoved Him hard, pushing him away and causing him to fall backwards onto the floor. She crouched low, meeting his eyes, a clear look of anger driven defiance playing across her features. He continued to stare, his eyes fierce with an unspeakable hunger, something so powerful that all Blossom wanted to do was run.

"Blossom… you're letting all this emotion eat at you as well, very soon, you'll be no better off my dear… you're going to make yourself so weak… you must let me comfort you…" Him said softly, his tone more softer than before. She glowered at Him, almost not comprehending what he was saying, not even able to believe what he was asking of her.

"How shallow do you think I am?" she sneered, feeling her face grow hot. "The only thing I care for now is my sisters… I want you to leave. Now," she said with force, her voice firm yet hushed.

Him crept slowly forward, crawling on the floor, his head tilted lightly to one side, staring her down with airy adoration in his eyes. But there was also a blooming fire of malevolent desire that she could see in his face, something so cruel, that Blossom somehow knew it held more meaning than him just wanting to destroy her. He was out for more than just her innocence, and at that moment Blossom exploded.

"GET OUT!!!" she screamed, and she lunged at Him, intending to latch onto his skin with her nails, every fiber of her body wanting to tear him to shreds. But as she fell against the floor, crying out as her body connected with something harder than expected, she found that her hands were filled with nothing more than airy black smoke. Him was gone, and all was silent.

The professor had carried Buttercup to her room as soon as he'd gotten her to calm down a bit. The house had settled, and Bubbles had retreated to her bedroom, closely followed by Blossom, who's expression seemed largely more disturbed than when she'd left. Buttercup had barely been able to keep her eyes open, her ranting fit mixed with her unbearable weakness had siphoned out the last remaining bits of strength that she'd had left, and she'd fallen asleep as soon as she'd hit the pillow.

The professor kept vigil by her bedside for over an hour, constantly checking her forehead for any sign of a fever, but Buttercup never stirred. She slept on, never moving, her dreamless sleep engulfing her in peaceful darkness. As she slept, the professor saw her face regain its true natural color, and her breathing strengthened as the minutes ticked by. Satisfied, the professor finally retreated to his own room almost two hours later.

But as soon as he left Buttercup was assaulted by nightmares. Hellish dreams that clouded her sub consciousness with hidden messages. She heard voices in the dark, and a black, oily mass of shadow crept over her, speaking in soft musical tones. She breathed it in, absorbed it, and soon its words rang clear and vibrant in her beaten mind. This was her shadow, it was her pursuer that had been slowly killing her since the school term had begun. It had finally decided to show its true nature, and its message was clear.

Buttercup… It's time, my dear…

She thrashed about silently in her bed, no sound ever escaping her lips, but her face displayed the confused emotions that battered the remaining ounces of purity in her soul. At first, she tried to fight, her body disparately trying to wake herself up, but soon she found that she couldn't even will her muscles to move. She tried to struggle, but the soft warmth of her demon caressed her, lulling her into a place of safety and comfort, and her body seized to move.

Think of what that nasty Blossom said… she doesn't care for you… none of them care for you… you've needed help for a long time… but did they seek it for you? I should think not…

Her heart thundered in her sleep, and she could just barely feel the pounding pulse as it ripped through her limp body. Everything grew warm, and tense, a vibrant buzzing in her head, pounding against the sides of her skull as if wanting to break free. For a second, the shadow drew back, alarmed, but soon it crooned a soft snickering laugh.

It's no use now my dear… all is too late… you're just useless now… too weak to be of any service to anyone…

The voice grew fiercer, hotter with devilish anger as its words continued. It was no longer the sweet, comforting voice from before…

It's time to end it… Buttercup… kill your body and your soul will be at peace… with me… forever…

Buttercup woke suddenly, leaping up in bed as the last remnants of the soft voice lingered in her head. She couldn't think straight, and felt as if she'd momentarily stepped from her body, unable to control what her muscles were doing.

Slowly she stood from her bed and walked to the bathroom, and shut the door, making sure to lock it behind her.

Somewhere, someone was laughing in the dark, because very soon he would have what he really wanted, if everything played out right.

Author's new note: As you can probably see where this is headed, I wanted to say a word about what's happening. If you have no clue, then don't read on.

I want to make it clear that I do not in any way encourage the use of suicide to solve any problem. For I have been touched by such tragedies, and by using such a topic, I feel I can incorporate my feelings on the subject and how it affects loved ones. If this somehow offends you in any way, I am truly sorrow, and just wish you could have the respect to not leave any unnecessary flames. And if it means that much to you, Buttercup is going to be just fine in the end.