Hello again.
JDepp: Never have I seen the word "MORE" written so many times. 2100 times! You have a lot of spare time, or you are pretty handy with the whole Copy/Paste deal, huh? One would have got the message across. Cool all the same, hehehe. But, for the sake of my sanity, no more "more"? Lol.
Okay, o with the chapter.
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Suze's POV.
I was ready to give up. I really was. All I could think of, "Jesse cheated on me. Damn, I'll never get my revenge." Ha, I'm just SO deep. But really, death didn't seem that bad. Because, physically I was dying. My life was slipping away. I was ready to die. See the light. Kick the bucket. Meet my maker.
So that's when I was kind of shocked when I felt Mr Beaumont's teeth being withdrawn from my skin. There was no longer a hot, toxic breath on my neck, no longer did I feel so numb that all aspects of my life seemed so, so long ago. No, I was back in the real world, and I was pissed.
Blinking groggily, I glared at the fuzzy physiques before my eyes. There . . . were two people? I was against a wall. Having no strength, I slid down heavily, still trying to see properly. Blackness still haunted my sight.
Two figures collided hazily, and I kept hearing breaks of yelling, but no words. I was still trying to return to the world. To life. I wasn't sure if I'd reached there yet. Was . . . was I already dead?
Again, the figures collided until one was pushed away, where he disappeared. All was still fuzzy. I still couldn't feel anything, no pain or sense. Then, one of the figures came very close to me, and I dimly held pressure on both of my shoulders. A deep voice resonated in my ears, but it was so far away. I tried to breathe, but the air was choked up in my throat.
'Are you all right?'
My vision and hearing had sharpened. I blinked again, and saw a man crouching right before my face, checking my eyes.
I wrenched my tongue from the roof of my deadly dry mouth, and swallowed. I felt a huge, painful lump in there.
'Fine,' I tried to say, but the word didn't really come out with any voice to it. More like a choked rasp, barely a vowel sound.
The man shook me by the shoulders again. 'Are you all right?'
'I'm fine, god dammit,' I snapped, managing to form words that were almost lucid. Sensation returned to my arms, and I pushed his hands off of me. Then, I looked at his eyes again. They were cold and unkind, and grey. His irises, they didn't look cloudy or smoky. They were like jagged grey rocks. Hard.
Yet he was helping me.
I think.
'What . . . 'I ran my tongue over my lips slowly. They were dry and cracked. Drained of moisture. I tried again. 'What happened?'
He swallowed, and a three lines appeared across his forehead as he frowned. His eyes twitched a little, and looked to the right briefly. 'You collapsed. Would you like to speak to Tad? Maybe he can –'
'You're lying,' I whispered.
His frown deepened. 'I can assure you –'
I brusquely felt my throat. Ah, bingo.
'Explain that,' I challenged, presenting the two wet lumps that I felt. I removed my hand and looked at my fingers. They were stained. Dark, and red.
Again, the man swallowed. 'That, ah, that was a pen that you fell onto –'
'Twice?' I said skeptically. I stared at my fingers again, my lip quivering. What was going on? My fingers, against the . . . the blood. They were so pale. So white . . .
He shifted uncomfortably. 'I think that you should really talk to Tad, Miss Simon.'
'No,' I said more firmly. The tremble in my solid tone was obvious, but I didn't care. I couldn't remember what had happened. I remember piercing pain in my neck, feeling like I was empty. Or being emptied.
And for some weird reason, needing to go pee?
I stared in confusion at the corner of the room. What was happening? Who was this guy, anyway?
'Who are you?' I asked him, glaring.
He looked relieved. 'I just work for Mr Beaumont, that's all. You may call me Marcus.'
Marcus.
I shuddered. 'I'll go see Tad now,' I said, and shakily stood up. He watched me struggle to stand, even when I almost fell. Evil . . .
At least he let me out of that stupid office. We both went down the elevator. I kept feeling like I was blacking out every ten seconds, only for about half a minute, because everything I saw kept jumping ahead. It seemed too quickly that Tad was rushing up to me.
'Susie! What happened?' he asked, rushing up to me, looking very weird. The crucifix around his neck glinted gold in the bright light of his house. It was late. I knew that much.
'That's what I wanna know,' I glared at Marcus, who shrugged his shoulders in his smart black suit, and glared right back at me.
I was still shaking, and I didn't know why. Why would no one tell me WHY?
I leant forward, so I was very near Tad. 'Do you know what happened?' I asked him quietly. He stood there, rigid. Then he moved back and looked at my face properly.
'No,' he said slowly, as if he was going to regret it. He pulled nervously on his silk black tee. 'Why? What, Marcus said you collapsed. You, like, on medication or something?'
'No,' I said indignantly. 'I am SO not. I'm not stoned, or high, or wasted either, for your information. I am perfectly sane, too. It's your dad that I think is on something.'
He twitched. 'What did you say?'
'Your dad,' I said, frowning. Trying to remember. 'He . . . he a cannibal or something? He tried to bite me, Tad.'
Tad shook his head at me. 'What are you on about?'
Angrier, I said, 'Your stupid dad! He's a psycho, Tad. Better believe it. He's a sick man. Is HE on medication?'
Tad backed away from me, a look of resentment surfacing on his dark face. His features, they were all thin. His mouth, his eyes. But his nostrils were flaring. Like he was angry with me.
'You're full of it,' he snarled. 'My dad . . . he's fine.'
'No, he's not,' I retaliated. 'He needs help. You can't just go around trying to sink your teeth into someone, it's –'
'Shut up!' he yelled at me. 'You don't know anything! How hard did you bang your head, you cow.' Well, slightly stronger language than cow, but work with me.
The scene jerked in front of my eyes. Ten seconds later . . .
'Go on, ask him,' I challenged. 'Ask him. Make him go out at daylight. That dumb crucifix you wear on your neck? Put it in his hand, Tad. Do that, okay?'
His fists were balled and shaking. 'You're . . . you're . . . '
'I'm what? Wrong? Go ahead, prove me wrong. I'm going home,' I snapped at him furiously. 'How I'm getting home, I don't know. I'll walk if I have to. But I'm not staying here any longer while you're in denial. Your dad is a v. . .' I couldn't say it. Saying it would make it sound true. And I didn't believe in them! Vampires? I already said, I am NOT Buffy. I am BRUNETTE, for a start. I fight GHOSTS, not blood sucking fiends. I'm a mediator not a vampire slayer. So what was UP with this? Why did suddenly a fictional monster pop into reality?
Blackness again.
'You're pale,' Tad said, and ran his hands through his dark hair. 'You can't bloody walk forty miles at this time of night. I'll . . . ' he sighed with irritation, and if I wasn't mistaken, anger.' He was STILL angry? He wasn't over it already? Oh, please. 'I'll freakin' drive you home then. But this is over, Susie.'
'Don't,' my lip curled, 'call me that. And "this" never really existed, Thaddeus,' added spitefully. But then I swayed, and would have hit the ground if he hadn't have caught me.
He walked me to the door. I saw Marcus standing in the shadow, still glaring. His lips formed the words, "Keep your mouth shut."
I blanched, and looked away hastily. Oh, I was so confused. I couldn't think straight. Blood loss can do that to you . . .
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Paul's POV.
So it had happened. He'd found me . . . After all this time I thought I was safe from him, but no. I was wrong. No longer could I hide here, in this old New York apartment with the depressing blue atmosphere, the broken shards of glass, the drunken guy that I'd killed to get my sanctuary, and no light. I had to go back. To Suze.
I couldn't believe what I'd done. I'd put Suze in exactly the same boat that I'd been in. A boat with the same destiny of the bloody Titanic. To sink . . . I had traded her for my well-being. She was the thing I wanted – craved – most in the world. I couldn't exist without her, with the possibility of her to sustain me, and now she was as good as dead. This deal I'd made to keep me alive – well, not alive, but still of this earth – had been something that I hadn't thought through.
My demon had returned.
I never told you about the demon, didn't I? The one who I'd sent all of the ghosts who came to me to. They all when to him. What he did with them, I do not know. But he used them in horrible ways to escalate his power. And then he'd turned on me, demanding my life. I was a shifter. And he needed a shifter. I tried to bring Jesse to him, but that didn't pan out, exactly. In fact, it went as well as blowing my brains out. And not the good blowing, either. I mean, the bullets, firearms blowing. (A/N: See Twisted World, Chapter 8)
So I said I'd give him Suze instead.
How could I have done that? I wanted her! No one else could have her! She was mine from the very moment I saw her. Mine for the taking. I'd taken her, no matter how much she thought she loved De Dickless. Ha, love? That wasn't love. It was companionship. Weakness. I was love. I was the ultimate in love. She loved me, she just didn't know it . . .
Way to prove your love, Paul, bartering her off like some trading card.
I glared around darkly. Shadows rose all around me, in this terrible room. I'd lived here for weeks now! Sure, I went out occasionally for the night to fellow ghosts – of the female variety – for, well, company, but other than that, I was stuck here. I'd become a strong ghost. I felt almost too powerful. My strength and intensity had yet to be matched. I couldn't wait to see the look on Jesse's face when he fought me . . . and I killed him. Easily, too. Not even giving him the satisfaction that he was a challenge for me. The power that crackled through my body had ignited from my rage, fiery yet freezing cold at the same time. I felt power like I never had experienced in my life or afterlife.
And it felt good . . .
So there was no way I was going to let some punk demon ass rip this opportunity to seize everything I wanted from me.
And there was absolutely NO way that he was going to get his moldy hands on my Suze . . .
I don't know how this power had come to me in such a short time. I felt drugged. Drunk with deadly energy. Nothing would stop me. Not now, and not ever. Not even Jesse anymore.
I sank smugly on the moldy bed, staring at my hands. Power transferred vibrantly in sparks of blue electricity. It illuminated my face and my hands, casting all the shadow regions into complete blackness in contrast. It was night, but even in the day no light entered here.
I smirked again.
No one . . . Not you, Suze. No, you're not going to get rid of me, you're going to be mine. And in a total non Valentine's Day way.
I meant forever.
Laying back slowly on the bed, I thought of her.
My Susannah.
Susie.
Too long had I fought for her from the scabby claws of De Bastardo to have her taken by this demon. He'd already caused me to be dead, he wasn't going to steal my reason for existing. Suze . . .
Too long had it been. I yearned to see those glittering emerald eyes flash with humour again. I craved her magnificent head of perfect russet curls. I longed to run my hands down that body that drove me insaaaaaaaaaane . . .
She's making you crazy, Paul.
She's robbing you of your sanity.
Ha. I have sanity still? Um . . . no. That went with my life.
Breathing deeply so it hurt, even though it wasn't necessary, I thought of her so hard it gave me a headache. Pain? Why do I still feel pain?
Ghosts can still feel pain of the heart.
It was . . . heartache.
I needed her. She needed me! She was just too blind to see it, God dammit! Shit, if she'd bloody get off her high horse and stop acting like she was higher than me, she'd see me.
I wasn't beneath her.
I was in control. I had the power over her.
I haunted her, even though I was so far away. She was inside me. I'd taken her in that last kiss. Stolen her life, a bit of her essence, replacing it with my own. We were linked on a spectral level. A sub-conscious one.
She dreamt about me, and it killed her. It ripped her apart. I enjoyed her pain, watching her suffer. I enjoyed entering her mind night after night, tantalizing her, enticing her, knowing that eventually she would crack. Give up, give in. She would want me more than she wanted anything. More than food, water, God, even clothes. If it didn't beat her, it would God damn destroy her instead.
Either way worked for me, just as long as I got her in the end.
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Suze's POV.
Tad drove me home in silence. Not a word was spoken. He was furious with me for dissing his dad, and I was furious with him because he was so stupid. He also had a major denial issue happening there too. I slammed his car door closed as I hopped out when he got to my driveway. I heard him call me a word that I don't think was deserved of my part. But big deal. He was an idiot.
Fuming, I burst into the house. Everyone was asleep, except, surprise, Dopey. He was parked in front of the TV, watching some movie.
'What you watching?' I snapped at him, slipping off my jacket and settling heavily over the couch opposite him.
'Just started,' he muttered, his eyes riveted on the TV. There was this actor – what's his name again? – with this oddball looking guy. Oh, how nice. Whatzizname actor just got shot in the stomach.
'So you are watching a movie called "Just Started"? I checked, cynical.
'No, you loser. It's the Sixth Sense. The movie just started. Get lost if you're going to keep talking,' he grunted, 'And if you're going to watch, go get me something to eat.'
'No on your life,' I shot at him, but at that moment, my belly made the most embarrassing moan that I've ever heard. I hadn't eaten, of course.
Dopey tore his eyes away from the screen to give me a funny look. 'That was gross,' he commented.
'Watching you eat is gross,' I countered. 'So that is why I'm not getting you food. That, and you're big enough and ugly enough to get it yourself.'
'Piss off, Suze,' he glared, and crossed his arms angrily. Dopey is such a jerk. Why couldn't I have a normal, nice stepbrother who closed his mouth when he ate and didn't flirt shamelessly with all the girls at my school how had cleavage? I mean, please. Why me?
No. I got Bradley Ackerman, didn't I?
Groaning, I heaved myself up and snatched some left over spaghetti from the fridge, and heated it up. I then halved it for me and Dopey. What? I know, I'm too nice for my own good. Really annoyed by then – and my neck was stabbing painfully with movement, my hands were itchier than ever, and Dopey is such a loser – I shoved the bowl at him.
'You didn't get me a fork,' he said, looking down.
'Oh, you noticed,' I made a mocking face. 'Get off your ass and get one.'
He just shrugged and downed the whole thing in about ten seconds. I couldn't believe it! It was hideous! It was not of this world! Gross! Inhumane!
A very good way to eat without a fork.
I started getting into the movie. The Sixth Sense. I hadn't seen it before.
(A/N: For the person who said she should have seen it before, due to her comparing Jack Slater to Cole in Darkest Hour, well, this is her watching it, isn't it? This is where she sees it for the first time. That was kind of the point?)
I'd heard about that briefly. Ah, Bruce Willis, that was the actor. I watched, absorbed, as the thriller continued. Haley Joel Osmet was a bloody good little actor, I tell you. It was a creepy movie. Then, it came to a bit where the characters "Cole" and "Malcolm" were in the hospital after Cole had just had his "seizure."
"I'm ready to tell you my secret now," Cole whispered. I watched Malcolm lean in.
"I . . . I . . . I see dead people . . . "Cole revealed.
I stared.
'So?' I muttered.
Dopey grunted. 'Huh?'
'I said, so? He can see ghosts, who gives?' I said angrily. God, the WHOLE movie was about this? For God's sake, what crap.
'It's just a movie, you dork. Shut up.'
'No, but really. They're making this big thing about it. Who gives a crap? So? I hear that media – ' What was I SAYING?! And to DOPEY?! Argh, me and my fat mouth, I swear. We are going to get us killed. My mouth and I, I mean.
Dopey was giving me this funny look, like I'd just asked him if he folded or scrunched his toilet paper. I stared back at the movie. Awww . . . pity the movie turned out like that. I might have enjoyed it if it was something else.
AND it was incorrect. People would get the wrong idea after seeing this! Ghosts DON'T look like they did when they died, exactly. That was wrong! They looked like they did when they were most healthy, most alive. As far as I knew, anyway. And things just didn't happen around them as if nothing was wrong. How RUDE was that to say that? I was highly offended by it, and I kept scoffing at everything, until Dopey literally jumped up and physically tried to strangle me. It would have been just annoying, but noooo. I'd just had my neck bitten into, right? So Dopey? Sorry . . .
I slugged him and went to bed.
My life is SO screwed. Vampires?! May I say for the millionth time, I am NOT BUFFY! I DEAL WITH GHOSTS, DAMMIT!!!
~*~
No, this was not happening!
'Stop, get out of my stinking head!' I snapped at him. This was getting old, and fast.
Yet why was I still terrified? WHY?! Clutching my head, I stumbled back.
'I'm coming for you,' Paul hissed at me.
'No, don't,' I begged. 'Stay away from me. Stop coming to me in my dreams.'
'But you love me,' he stressed, with gritted teeth. 'You won't admit it to yourself, Suze. Forget about Jesse –'
'Don't –' I squealed, and turned away sharply.
Silence.
'Oh, I get it . . . ' Paul said in a volume so deadly quiet. 'He broke it off, didn't he?'
'No, mind your own –'
'No, I'm wrong,' he continued. A hand rested on my shoulder, and held me tightly. I was deadly still. He WASN'T to know.
'Yeah, you're wrong. He didn't break up with me,' I said, my voice sounding very husky. I was scared. Why did he torture me? It wasn't fair! I was going over the edge. What did he want? My sanity? Jeez, just piss off already.
'No . . . ' I heard him chuckle darkly. Another hand settled gently on my waist, but pressurizing once it had landed. 'He didn't dump you . . . you dumped him.'
'I SO did not!' I tried to say, but it didn't come out. Not much did.
I could feel his body molding against me. Coming so close I ached. I moaned. 'Please, stop,' I pleaded in despair. He held me even tighter, constricting me around the waste. I tried to cry out, but there was no sound.
'You did,' he said into my hair, smelling it. 'You jumped to conclusions, Suze. Didn't you? And you know why?' he breathed . . .
I released a shuddering breath, my mouth and eyes open in silent horror.
'Don't say it . . . '
'Because secretly,' he voyaged on, pressing me further into him, so forcefully I could no absolutely nothing, 'You want it to be over, Suze. There are other things that you want. That you need. That you love . . . Love so intensely, the emotion is fatal to anything that stands in the way. It hurts like crazy, and nothing seems to make sense. You wanted it to be over between you and Jesse,' he growled softly, 'Because you want me.'
'No –'
'So bad . . .' he nuzzled his nose against my ear, touching my neck. My bite-free neck. He clutched my wrists severely, stopping my blood flow.
'No,' I repeated, but it sounded more like "nuph."
'Desire.'
'Paul, stop,' I whined, 'You're hurting me, don't!'
'Love hurts, Susie . . .' He kissed my neck gently, smirking again.
He enjoyed this. This . . . punishment. What did I do WRONG?!
The hopelessness was eating me. It was killing me.
'They're be nothing left of me,' I squinted my eyes shut against the pain of this knowledge. Oh, it hurt so bad . . .
'Desire . . . I'm coming home, Suze.'
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I'll get another chapter up soon! I was supposed to put more in here, but I have a computer time limit! I might be about four days or so updating due to resurfacing of homework flood, so bear with me? Good people!
Regards, MystAngel.
JDepp: Never have I seen the word "MORE" written so many times. 2100 times! You have a lot of spare time, or you are pretty handy with the whole Copy/Paste deal, huh? One would have got the message across. Cool all the same, hehehe. But, for the sake of my sanity, no more "more"? Lol.
Okay, o with the chapter.
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Suze's POV.
I was ready to give up. I really was. All I could think of, "Jesse cheated on me. Damn, I'll never get my revenge." Ha, I'm just SO deep. But really, death didn't seem that bad. Because, physically I was dying. My life was slipping away. I was ready to die. See the light. Kick the bucket. Meet my maker.
So that's when I was kind of shocked when I felt Mr Beaumont's teeth being withdrawn from my skin. There was no longer a hot, toxic breath on my neck, no longer did I feel so numb that all aspects of my life seemed so, so long ago. No, I was back in the real world, and I was pissed.
Blinking groggily, I glared at the fuzzy physiques before my eyes. There . . . were two people? I was against a wall. Having no strength, I slid down heavily, still trying to see properly. Blackness still haunted my sight.
Two figures collided hazily, and I kept hearing breaks of yelling, but no words. I was still trying to return to the world. To life. I wasn't sure if I'd reached there yet. Was . . . was I already dead?
Again, the figures collided until one was pushed away, where he disappeared. All was still fuzzy. I still couldn't feel anything, no pain or sense. Then, one of the figures came very close to me, and I dimly held pressure on both of my shoulders. A deep voice resonated in my ears, but it was so far away. I tried to breathe, but the air was choked up in my throat.
'Are you all right?'
My vision and hearing had sharpened. I blinked again, and saw a man crouching right before my face, checking my eyes.
I wrenched my tongue from the roof of my deadly dry mouth, and swallowed. I felt a huge, painful lump in there.
'Fine,' I tried to say, but the word didn't really come out with any voice to it. More like a choked rasp, barely a vowel sound.
The man shook me by the shoulders again. 'Are you all right?'
'I'm fine, god dammit,' I snapped, managing to form words that were almost lucid. Sensation returned to my arms, and I pushed his hands off of me. Then, I looked at his eyes again. They were cold and unkind, and grey. His irises, they didn't look cloudy or smoky. They were like jagged grey rocks. Hard.
Yet he was helping me.
I think.
'What . . . 'I ran my tongue over my lips slowly. They were dry and cracked. Drained of moisture. I tried again. 'What happened?'
He swallowed, and a three lines appeared across his forehead as he frowned. His eyes twitched a little, and looked to the right briefly. 'You collapsed. Would you like to speak to Tad? Maybe he can –'
'You're lying,' I whispered.
His frown deepened. 'I can assure you –'
I brusquely felt my throat. Ah, bingo.
'Explain that,' I challenged, presenting the two wet lumps that I felt. I removed my hand and looked at my fingers. They were stained. Dark, and red.
Again, the man swallowed. 'That, ah, that was a pen that you fell onto –'
'Twice?' I said skeptically. I stared at my fingers again, my lip quivering. What was going on? My fingers, against the . . . the blood. They were so pale. So white . . .
He shifted uncomfortably. 'I think that you should really talk to Tad, Miss Simon.'
'No,' I said more firmly. The tremble in my solid tone was obvious, but I didn't care. I couldn't remember what had happened. I remember piercing pain in my neck, feeling like I was empty. Or being emptied.
And for some weird reason, needing to go pee?
I stared in confusion at the corner of the room. What was happening? Who was this guy, anyway?
'Who are you?' I asked him, glaring.
He looked relieved. 'I just work for Mr Beaumont, that's all. You may call me Marcus.'
Marcus.
I shuddered. 'I'll go see Tad now,' I said, and shakily stood up. He watched me struggle to stand, even when I almost fell. Evil . . .
At least he let me out of that stupid office. We both went down the elevator. I kept feeling like I was blacking out every ten seconds, only for about half a minute, because everything I saw kept jumping ahead. It seemed too quickly that Tad was rushing up to me.
'Susie! What happened?' he asked, rushing up to me, looking very weird. The crucifix around his neck glinted gold in the bright light of his house. It was late. I knew that much.
'That's what I wanna know,' I glared at Marcus, who shrugged his shoulders in his smart black suit, and glared right back at me.
I was still shaking, and I didn't know why. Why would no one tell me WHY?
I leant forward, so I was very near Tad. 'Do you know what happened?' I asked him quietly. He stood there, rigid. Then he moved back and looked at my face properly.
'No,' he said slowly, as if he was going to regret it. He pulled nervously on his silk black tee. 'Why? What, Marcus said you collapsed. You, like, on medication or something?'
'No,' I said indignantly. 'I am SO not. I'm not stoned, or high, or wasted either, for your information. I am perfectly sane, too. It's your dad that I think is on something.'
He twitched. 'What did you say?'
'Your dad,' I said, frowning. Trying to remember. 'He . . . he a cannibal or something? He tried to bite me, Tad.'
Tad shook his head at me. 'What are you on about?'
Angrier, I said, 'Your stupid dad! He's a psycho, Tad. Better believe it. He's a sick man. Is HE on medication?'
Tad backed away from me, a look of resentment surfacing on his dark face. His features, they were all thin. His mouth, his eyes. But his nostrils were flaring. Like he was angry with me.
'You're full of it,' he snarled. 'My dad . . . he's fine.'
'No, he's not,' I retaliated. 'He needs help. You can't just go around trying to sink your teeth into someone, it's –'
'Shut up!' he yelled at me. 'You don't know anything! How hard did you bang your head, you cow.' Well, slightly stronger language than cow, but work with me.
The scene jerked in front of my eyes. Ten seconds later . . .
'Go on, ask him,' I challenged. 'Ask him. Make him go out at daylight. That dumb crucifix you wear on your neck? Put it in his hand, Tad. Do that, okay?'
His fists were balled and shaking. 'You're . . . you're . . . '
'I'm what? Wrong? Go ahead, prove me wrong. I'm going home,' I snapped at him furiously. 'How I'm getting home, I don't know. I'll walk if I have to. But I'm not staying here any longer while you're in denial. Your dad is a v. . .' I couldn't say it. Saying it would make it sound true. And I didn't believe in them! Vampires? I already said, I am NOT Buffy. I am BRUNETTE, for a start. I fight GHOSTS, not blood sucking fiends. I'm a mediator not a vampire slayer. So what was UP with this? Why did suddenly a fictional monster pop into reality?
Blackness again.
'You're pale,' Tad said, and ran his hands through his dark hair. 'You can't bloody walk forty miles at this time of night. I'll . . . ' he sighed with irritation, and if I wasn't mistaken, anger.' He was STILL angry? He wasn't over it already? Oh, please. 'I'll freakin' drive you home then. But this is over, Susie.'
'Don't,' my lip curled, 'call me that. And "this" never really existed, Thaddeus,' added spitefully. But then I swayed, and would have hit the ground if he hadn't have caught me.
He walked me to the door. I saw Marcus standing in the shadow, still glaring. His lips formed the words, "Keep your mouth shut."
I blanched, and looked away hastily. Oh, I was so confused. I couldn't think straight. Blood loss can do that to you . . .
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Paul's POV.
So it had happened. He'd found me . . . After all this time I thought I was safe from him, but no. I was wrong. No longer could I hide here, in this old New York apartment with the depressing blue atmosphere, the broken shards of glass, the drunken guy that I'd killed to get my sanctuary, and no light. I had to go back. To Suze.
I couldn't believe what I'd done. I'd put Suze in exactly the same boat that I'd been in. A boat with the same destiny of the bloody Titanic. To sink . . . I had traded her for my well-being. She was the thing I wanted – craved – most in the world. I couldn't exist without her, with the possibility of her to sustain me, and now she was as good as dead. This deal I'd made to keep me alive – well, not alive, but still of this earth – had been something that I hadn't thought through.
My demon had returned.
I never told you about the demon, didn't I? The one who I'd sent all of the ghosts who came to me to. They all when to him. What he did with them, I do not know. But he used them in horrible ways to escalate his power. And then he'd turned on me, demanding my life. I was a shifter. And he needed a shifter. I tried to bring Jesse to him, but that didn't pan out, exactly. In fact, it went as well as blowing my brains out. And not the good blowing, either. I mean, the bullets, firearms blowing. (A/N: See Twisted World, Chapter 8)
So I said I'd give him Suze instead.
How could I have done that? I wanted her! No one else could have her! She was mine from the very moment I saw her. Mine for the taking. I'd taken her, no matter how much she thought she loved De Dickless. Ha, love? That wasn't love. It was companionship. Weakness. I was love. I was the ultimate in love. She loved me, she just didn't know it . . .
Way to prove your love, Paul, bartering her off like some trading card.
I glared around darkly. Shadows rose all around me, in this terrible room. I'd lived here for weeks now! Sure, I went out occasionally for the night to fellow ghosts – of the female variety – for, well, company, but other than that, I was stuck here. I'd become a strong ghost. I felt almost too powerful. My strength and intensity had yet to be matched. I couldn't wait to see the look on Jesse's face when he fought me . . . and I killed him. Easily, too. Not even giving him the satisfaction that he was a challenge for me. The power that crackled through my body had ignited from my rage, fiery yet freezing cold at the same time. I felt power like I never had experienced in my life or afterlife.
And it felt good . . .
So there was no way I was going to let some punk demon ass rip this opportunity to seize everything I wanted from me.
And there was absolutely NO way that he was going to get his moldy hands on my Suze . . .
I don't know how this power had come to me in such a short time. I felt drugged. Drunk with deadly energy. Nothing would stop me. Not now, and not ever. Not even Jesse anymore.
I sank smugly on the moldy bed, staring at my hands. Power transferred vibrantly in sparks of blue electricity. It illuminated my face and my hands, casting all the shadow regions into complete blackness in contrast. It was night, but even in the day no light entered here.
I smirked again.
No one . . . Not you, Suze. No, you're not going to get rid of me, you're going to be mine. And in a total non Valentine's Day way.
I meant forever.
Laying back slowly on the bed, I thought of her.
My Susannah.
Susie.
Too long had I fought for her from the scabby claws of De Bastardo to have her taken by this demon. He'd already caused me to be dead, he wasn't going to steal my reason for existing. Suze . . .
Too long had it been. I yearned to see those glittering emerald eyes flash with humour again. I craved her magnificent head of perfect russet curls. I longed to run my hands down that body that drove me insaaaaaaaaaane . . .
She's making you crazy, Paul.
She's robbing you of your sanity.
Ha. I have sanity still? Um . . . no. That went with my life.
Breathing deeply so it hurt, even though it wasn't necessary, I thought of her so hard it gave me a headache. Pain? Why do I still feel pain?
Ghosts can still feel pain of the heart.
It was . . . heartache.
I needed her. She needed me! She was just too blind to see it, God dammit! Shit, if she'd bloody get off her high horse and stop acting like she was higher than me, she'd see me.
I wasn't beneath her.
I was in control. I had the power over her.
I haunted her, even though I was so far away. She was inside me. I'd taken her in that last kiss. Stolen her life, a bit of her essence, replacing it with my own. We were linked on a spectral level. A sub-conscious one.
She dreamt about me, and it killed her. It ripped her apart. I enjoyed her pain, watching her suffer. I enjoyed entering her mind night after night, tantalizing her, enticing her, knowing that eventually she would crack. Give up, give in. She would want me more than she wanted anything. More than food, water, God, even clothes. If it didn't beat her, it would God damn destroy her instead.
Either way worked for me, just as long as I got her in the end.
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Suze's POV.
Tad drove me home in silence. Not a word was spoken. He was furious with me for dissing his dad, and I was furious with him because he was so stupid. He also had a major denial issue happening there too. I slammed his car door closed as I hopped out when he got to my driveway. I heard him call me a word that I don't think was deserved of my part. But big deal. He was an idiot.
Fuming, I burst into the house. Everyone was asleep, except, surprise, Dopey. He was parked in front of the TV, watching some movie.
'What you watching?' I snapped at him, slipping off my jacket and settling heavily over the couch opposite him.
'Just started,' he muttered, his eyes riveted on the TV. There was this actor – what's his name again? – with this oddball looking guy. Oh, how nice. Whatzizname actor just got shot in the stomach.
'So you are watching a movie called "Just Started"? I checked, cynical.
'No, you loser. It's the Sixth Sense. The movie just started. Get lost if you're going to keep talking,' he grunted, 'And if you're going to watch, go get me something to eat.'
'No on your life,' I shot at him, but at that moment, my belly made the most embarrassing moan that I've ever heard. I hadn't eaten, of course.
Dopey tore his eyes away from the screen to give me a funny look. 'That was gross,' he commented.
'Watching you eat is gross,' I countered. 'So that is why I'm not getting you food. That, and you're big enough and ugly enough to get it yourself.'
'Piss off, Suze,' he glared, and crossed his arms angrily. Dopey is such a jerk. Why couldn't I have a normal, nice stepbrother who closed his mouth when he ate and didn't flirt shamelessly with all the girls at my school how had cleavage? I mean, please. Why me?
No. I got Bradley Ackerman, didn't I?
Groaning, I heaved myself up and snatched some left over spaghetti from the fridge, and heated it up. I then halved it for me and Dopey. What? I know, I'm too nice for my own good. Really annoyed by then – and my neck was stabbing painfully with movement, my hands were itchier than ever, and Dopey is such a loser – I shoved the bowl at him.
'You didn't get me a fork,' he said, looking down.
'Oh, you noticed,' I made a mocking face. 'Get off your ass and get one.'
He just shrugged and downed the whole thing in about ten seconds. I couldn't believe it! It was hideous! It was not of this world! Gross! Inhumane!
A very good way to eat without a fork.
I started getting into the movie. The Sixth Sense. I hadn't seen it before.
(A/N: For the person who said she should have seen it before, due to her comparing Jack Slater to Cole in Darkest Hour, well, this is her watching it, isn't it? This is where she sees it for the first time. That was kind of the point?)
I'd heard about that briefly. Ah, Bruce Willis, that was the actor. I watched, absorbed, as the thriller continued. Haley Joel Osmet was a bloody good little actor, I tell you. It was a creepy movie. Then, it came to a bit where the characters "Cole" and "Malcolm" were in the hospital after Cole had just had his "seizure."
"I'm ready to tell you my secret now," Cole whispered. I watched Malcolm lean in.
"I . . . I . . . I see dead people . . . "Cole revealed.
I stared.
'So?' I muttered.
Dopey grunted. 'Huh?'
'I said, so? He can see ghosts, who gives?' I said angrily. God, the WHOLE movie was about this? For God's sake, what crap.
'It's just a movie, you dork. Shut up.'
'No, but really. They're making this big thing about it. Who gives a crap? So? I hear that media – ' What was I SAYING?! And to DOPEY?! Argh, me and my fat mouth, I swear. We are going to get us killed. My mouth and I, I mean.
Dopey was giving me this funny look, like I'd just asked him if he folded or scrunched his toilet paper. I stared back at the movie. Awww . . . pity the movie turned out like that. I might have enjoyed it if it was something else.
AND it was incorrect. People would get the wrong idea after seeing this! Ghosts DON'T look like they did when they died, exactly. That was wrong! They looked like they did when they were most healthy, most alive. As far as I knew, anyway. And things just didn't happen around them as if nothing was wrong. How RUDE was that to say that? I was highly offended by it, and I kept scoffing at everything, until Dopey literally jumped up and physically tried to strangle me. It would have been just annoying, but noooo. I'd just had my neck bitten into, right? So Dopey? Sorry . . .
I slugged him and went to bed.
My life is SO screwed. Vampires?! May I say for the millionth time, I am NOT BUFFY! I DEAL WITH GHOSTS, DAMMIT!!!
~*~
No, this was not happening!
'Stop, get out of my stinking head!' I snapped at him. This was getting old, and fast.
Yet why was I still terrified? WHY?! Clutching my head, I stumbled back.
'I'm coming for you,' Paul hissed at me.
'No, don't,' I begged. 'Stay away from me. Stop coming to me in my dreams.'
'But you love me,' he stressed, with gritted teeth. 'You won't admit it to yourself, Suze. Forget about Jesse –'
'Don't –' I squealed, and turned away sharply.
Silence.
'Oh, I get it . . . ' Paul said in a volume so deadly quiet. 'He broke it off, didn't he?'
'No, mind your own –'
'No, I'm wrong,' he continued. A hand rested on my shoulder, and held me tightly. I was deadly still. He WASN'T to know.
'Yeah, you're wrong. He didn't break up with me,' I said, my voice sounding very husky. I was scared. Why did he torture me? It wasn't fair! I was going over the edge. What did he want? My sanity? Jeez, just piss off already.
'No . . . ' I heard him chuckle darkly. Another hand settled gently on my waist, but pressurizing once it had landed. 'He didn't dump you . . . you dumped him.'
'I SO did not!' I tried to say, but it didn't come out. Not much did.
I could feel his body molding against me. Coming so close I ached. I moaned. 'Please, stop,' I pleaded in despair. He held me even tighter, constricting me around the waste. I tried to cry out, but there was no sound.
'You did,' he said into my hair, smelling it. 'You jumped to conclusions, Suze. Didn't you? And you know why?' he breathed . . .
I released a shuddering breath, my mouth and eyes open in silent horror.
'Don't say it . . . '
'Because secretly,' he voyaged on, pressing me further into him, so forcefully I could no absolutely nothing, 'You want it to be over, Suze. There are other things that you want. That you need. That you love . . . Love so intensely, the emotion is fatal to anything that stands in the way. It hurts like crazy, and nothing seems to make sense. You wanted it to be over between you and Jesse,' he growled softly, 'Because you want me.'
'No –'
'So bad . . .' he nuzzled his nose against my ear, touching my neck. My bite-free neck. He clutched my wrists severely, stopping my blood flow.
'No,' I repeated, but it sounded more like "nuph."
'Desire.'
'Paul, stop,' I whined, 'You're hurting me, don't!'
'Love hurts, Susie . . .' He kissed my neck gently, smirking again.
He enjoyed this. This . . . punishment. What did I do WRONG?!
The hopelessness was eating me. It was killing me.
'They're be nothing left of me,' I squinted my eyes shut against the pain of this knowledge. Oh, it hurt so bad . . .
'Desire . . . I'm coming home, Suze.'
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I'll get another chapter up soon! I was supposed to put more in here, but I have a computer time limit! I might be about four days or so updating due to resurfacing of homework flood, so bear with me? Good people!
Regards, MystAngel.