YES! TOTALLY! THE HOLIDAYS!
To celebrate, I'm going to write a lot more, (I hope.) I'm worried that I might be coming into a inspiration dry spell, so yeah. But what I did, I write a spell to summon a muse? Let's see if it works. Hehehe . . . I think that a lot of my chapters have been lacking that little bit of personality that I always try to put into my stories. They've become a little impersonal and distant, because that's how I've been feeling lately. Well, let's see how we go? And Jasmine? Yeah, I got the chapter title from your review. I hope you don't mind it seemed to fit. Amelia? NO this is not the end of the Addicted story. It's got a while to go yet. What do you think I'm going to do with Tad and his dad? Lol . . . but like you, Reunion was one of my favourites, and I'm DYING to write. Especially with the plot that I have planned, that only a few of you know about, muahahaha! Yeah . . . um, so here we go.
Oh!
### READ CAREFULLY ###
Also, contrary to the belief, I AM still stuck on the plot. BUT not for this story. It seems a LOT of people have misunderstood me. It's very stressing, lol. I'm WRITING ANOTHER Jesse&Paul swap story, NOTHING to do with this one. I need your ideas on an IDEAL plot for a Mediator fanfic. NOT THIS ONE, a DIFFERENT one! Please don't misapprehend this, I'm desperate now. I'm dying to write the fanfic, and hardly anyone's written anything in reply.
### Okay . . . ###
Enjoy!
Love Lolly.
**************************************************************************** *******
Suze's POV.
'Susie, honey . . . it's me. It's Mummy.'
I blinked hazily. Huh? Mum's pretty, middle-aged face entered my vision. It seemed a long time since I'd seen it, some how.
Mum saw me open my eyes. 'Oh, love,' she said thankfully. She ran her thumb repeatedly across my forehead, 'You gave me such a scare, you little brat.' But she said it with such love in her voice, I took no offense or anything.
'Hello to you to,' I smiled at her grimly. I looked around. Oh yeah, the hospital. I felt the side of my neck. Two bumps. Damn, it wasn't a dream then.
That meant something else, as well.
Paul was back.
'Susie? Why are you frowning? Do you want me to go get a nurse? She said –'
'I'm fine,' I shook my head firmly. She sighed, a wobbly smile playing on her lips. Her eyes looked very anxious still. 'You gave everyone a big fright, Suze. Andy, me, Father Dominic, David, your little school friends, God, even Brad.'
'Whoa,' I said.
'Exactly,' she said in hushed tones. 'He'll crucify me for saying it, but he doesn't hate you as much as he pretends to. It's just a stepbrother thing.' She gave me a cynical look and then giggled. I smiled at her.
Again, she sighed, shaking her head slowly. 'Oh, Suze . . . What happened here?' Her hand motioned to no where in general, just towards me.
'I really don't remember,' I lied, looking at the vase of daisies that were mysteriously on the bench. 'Who are they from?'
'Your friend Adam.'
'Oh,' I said with disappointment. Of course they weren't from him, Suze. He doesn't even know you're here. He probably doesn't even care that you're here. Don't flatter yourself.
'Suze,' she said, a look of shock on her face, 'Oh, my, I just remembered. A boy repeatedly rung you, and we had to tell him that we didn't know where you were. That was before we found out that you were here. He simply insisted on talking to you. His name was Jerry, or something.'
My heart thudded. 'Jesse?' I asked squeakily.
She smiled. 'Ah, that's the one. Who is he, Suze?'
'No one,' I said bitterly, crossing my arms and snuggling deeper into the pillows. Her hand paused on my warm forehead. 'Susannah,' she said seriously, 'Who was he?'
'No one,' I stressed, frowning at her. 'Just drop it.'
'No,' she snapped, removing her hand from my face completely. 'Was he giving you trouble? Was he threatening you in some –'
'Nothing like that,' I said in horror. Why I was horrified, I have no idea. But I was. It just seemed so un-Jesse-like to even contemplate him threatening a girl. He seemed to be noble towards all the lucky members of the female population, always wanting to be a gentleman–
Oh my God . . .
OF COURSE!
'Mum!' I cried, 'Get me a phone!'
She looked alarmed. 'Susie, what? What on earth do you need a phone for?'
'I need to make a phone call,' I replied urgently.
'Well, I guessed THAT, I mean, I doubted you needed it to paint your nails,' she scowled, 'But who are you calling? That boy?'
'Yes, okay? Please, get me one!'
'Susannah, do you even know his number?' she asked angrily.
I deflated a great deal. 'No,' I said in a small voice.
Mum nodded curtly. 'I thought as much. So like you to rush into things. I really wish you would tell me more about this boy, Susannah. You haven't . . . '
'Ew,' I said. 'God no. We went out. It was pretty short. I have mentioned him to you, Mum. Remember last week? I said I was going to dinner –'
'With a friend,' she said, recalling perfectly. 'Not a "boy" friend. So don't try to squirm out of this. Why didn't you want me to know about him? He isn't . . . what Jake told me, is he? Because Susannah, I swear to God, if you are dating a boy who is in a mob, or has the slightest criminal record –'
'Would you RELAX?' I half-shouted, twisting away from her. 'Jesse's as clean as a whistle.' Besides the fact that he kind of committed homicide, but we'll just, er, skip that little part. His intentions were good.
I knew that now. So well . . .
Oh God, what had I done? Why had I just assumed that he'd been so ready to cheat on me? Jesse was the kind of person who'd help anyone, (save Paul). This Querida Andres, she must have been some poor clueless mediator he found, and was training. And I'd just jumped to conclusions.
Man, did I feel low.
Oh God, smite thee now. Spare the world, why don't you?
I sank into a heavy, steady guilt. Those horrible things I'd thought about Jesse, all those nasty things. They'd been misdirected. Unprovoked. I was a terrible human being! I'd treated him so badly, when all he'd been trying to do was explain! But, hey! What did he expect, popping out a line like, "I've met someone"? I mean, SERIOUSLY. You just DON'T say something like that to your girlfriend, and expect her to realize that you're training said someone in areas of mediation, without said girlfriend blowing her top. Right? Of COURSE I'm right! This was all his fault! If he hadn't have said such a stupid thing, none of this would have happened. I wouldn't have gone to meet Tad, his dad wouldn't have went all Dracula on me, and Tad wouldn't have tried to finish off his evil doings. I mean, what a SUCKY father-son project? All Jesse's fault. Yeah, so screw him.
Oh, I needed to talk to him!
I'm such a loser . . .
'Susie? Are you even listening to me?' Mum demanded.
'No,' I said dreamily, too lost in my own sympathy to remember that my mother was giving me a lecture or mother/daughter communication, or something.
~*~
'Okay, Miss Ackerman, you look right to leave,' the nurse smiled at me.
'Simon,' I said.
'I'm sorry?'
'My last name is Simon. Not Ackerman.'
'Oh, I must have the wrong –'
'No, you don't. My mum's last name is Ackerman. She remarried,' I explained boredly, sitting on my bed and swinging my legs.
'I see . . . well, Miss Simon, you seem okay. We have given details to your mother about what to do if anything goes wrong, but it is a rare occasion that something does. You are a very lucky girl. We were worried that you wouldn't pull through; you lost a great deal of blood. But you're right now. I hope we don't see you back in here too soon,' she smiled, clutching a notebook, her wispy blond curls bouncing happily.
'Right,' I said.
After I was discharged from hospital, mum drove me home. She wasn't too happy with me, if truth be told, like I ASKED to be drained dry by a Transylvanian aspirant. Oh, yes, suck my blood, please. As IF.
But she didn't know anything about Tad, and I wanted to keep it that way.
Oh, didn't I.
I finally got home, and went straight into the kitchen. Hey? I was hungry, okay?
'Ah, and there she is,' Andy smiled, as he skillfully pulled a steaming oven dish out of the, ironically, oven. 'Fancy something to eat?'
'Starved,' I said dully, plopping into a chair.
I noticed he was watching me rather carefully.
'What are you looking at?' I said with a wise guy smile.
'Something I'd rather not be,' he shot back with a grin. I screwed up a bit of paper and threw it at him.
It bounced off his arm as he shielded himself. 'That paper had something on it, you know. Something you might wanna take a look at.'
I frowned. 'Huh?'
He served me a plate of this creamy pasta, and returned my flimsy weapon to me. The steam of the food made my face very hot, and a little wet. I moved away from it, feeling slightly flustered, and smoothed the crumpled paper.
It had a phone number on it. A very long one.
It was Jesse's, from Spain.
My breath ripped at my chest. I had to call him, he needed to know how sorry I was! He needed to know that I was wrong, and that I was the world's biggest loser, and primarily, that . . . that Paul was back.
No, the most important thing he needed to know was that I loved him. That information was second to none.
'Suze? You sane?' Andy queried.
I shook myself out of my daze, and said in a slightly crackled voice, 'Um, y . . . yeah. Can I use the phone?'
'Free country,' he shrugged. I nodded a little more than necessary, and grabbed the receiver very hastily, dialing the numbers. It felt very weird to be ringing Spain. I mean, a what if the person who picked up didn't understand me? What if they thought I was Chinese or someithing, or I was a terrorist, or a stalker, or –
'Hello?'
That familiar conceited tone sang richly over the line.
'Hey, Cora,' I said coldly.
She was silent for a moment. 'Oh, it's you.'
'Yeah. Dramatic irony,' I said, 'That you answered. I need to talk to Jesse.'
'He's –'
'Right now,' I interrupted her.
'-Not in,' she replied smugly, as if I hadn't spoken. 'Off with this girl he met. She's really nice, and she's one of those mediums also. She knows a lot more than you do,' she added nastily.
I couldn't think of a spiteful reply quick enough, so she continued.
'She's really pretty, and she wears her skirts the appropriate length for a lady. She listens to Jesse and minds her place, and she is NEVER rude to me. So you can pack your bags, Susie. She's so much prettier than you.'
'Hey,' I snapped, 'Do I go around dissing you? Just because I think that you have a ferret face, I'd NEVER tell you.'
'Oh!' she said, obscenely insulted, 'You – you . . . perra! Un burro sabe mas que tu!'
I blinked. 'I'm so offended, Cora. Sticks and stones, dude. Especially if it's in Spanish. Your wit is wasted on me. I speak American, in case your memory has failed you again?'
I could hear her dislike. 'You are a zorra,' she said. 'You need not know what it means, only that you are one. La caída! Vete al carajo! La –'
That was when the phone was yanked away from her.
'Susie!'
It was Esmerelda. Aw, I really wanted to kiss her and pinch her at the same time for calling me that.
'Hello, Esmerelda,' I smiled. Hey? I prefer this little one to "Heart" any day. What was it with stupid translations, anyway? Corazon = heart, Querida = dear. I mean, come ON. Did these Spanish mammas have non-existent IQs? Really . . .
'Jesse says that you have nice legs,' she commented.
Again, I blinked. 'Um . . . tell him he does to. Is he there at all?'
'No,' she said sadly. 'I miss Jesse. He's funny. He laughs like a hyena.'
'He does not,' I scowled, but kindly. Jesse had the sexiest, nicest, most lovable laugh ever. He sounded nothing like a hyena. 'I think you're confusing him with Cora.' What? I was being a bitch, so what? Cora topped that category.
'So, he's not there?' I checked. 'Are you sure? It's very important I –'
But the phone was yanked back from her.
'Listen, you revoltosa,' Cora's rich voice spat into the phone, 'Get lost. Jesse is out of your reach. He in courting Querida now. She is more noble than you. He has no interest for a stupid little girl like you.'
'Oh,' I said, 'Well, why has he called my like, eighteen times then?'
'Because – he – uh . . . just go away!' she snapped.
Ha. Gotcha, you brat.
'Cora? Get your head out of your butt,' I said to her. 'It'll help with the head swelling, I promise you.'
And I hung up.
There's only so much cattiness a girl can take, after all.
~*~
While eating the now cooler bowl of pasta – cabonara, SO nice – Mum came to see me.
'Susie,' she said, frowning, 'Oh, I feel terrible . . . '
'Why?' I asked through a mouthful of starchy goodness.
She tugged on the dark brown hair that I had inherited from her. 'Well, the WCAL needs me to do some shooting tonight. The boys are all out, and Andy's coming with me for the drive because my eyes aren't too good at the moment. I'm going to get them checked out at the optometrist on Fri . . . anyway, I have to leave you all by yourself,' she said guiltily. 'I feel terrible about it after what happened the other day, Susie. I don't want you to end up in hospital again. The nurse tld me that so many things could go wrong after this silly blood transfusion, like, it could have a nasty reaction with the blood that –'
'Mum,' I cut her short, 'I'll be fine. It's okay, really.'
She looked even more harassed. 'Oh, but Susie. I would feel so much better if you went over to CeeCee's or something,' she begged, grabbing hold of my hand.
(A/N: I'm trying to keep a straight face while writing this. My brother is playing the song, "Rollin', rollin', rollin'' in the back round, complete with the whip cracks and stuff. And why does this guy singing the song call the cows "donkeys"? It's this huge mystery, I think. Was he on something? Hehehe . . . Trust me to break a mood.)
I wrenched it away. My hand, I mean. 'Mum, I'm a big girl, much as you are forgetting. I can actually take care of myself.'
She shot me a sarcastic look. 'Oh, and you weren't just discharged from hospital this morning after being attacked,' she said, rolling her eyes.
'Mum!' I said, 'you rolled your eyes at me! What things are you picking up from Andy? I think that he has a bad influence on you, young lady. I don't want you seeing him anymore. Although, that could be a problem, seeing that you are kind of bound by holy matrimony and all that crap . . . '
A smile broke out across her lips. She really was pretty. What went wrong with me? She had a genuine smile, a mumsy one, but real. It made you feel comfortable.
'Oh, you . . . all right, you can stay on your own. But I swear to God, Susannah, if anything goes wrong, call . . . I don't know, Father Dominic or something. He seems like a responsible person. And he truly worries about you. Can't imagine why,' she mused, looking at the ceiling thoughtfully.
'Oh, thanks,' I blew a strand of hair out of my face.
She laughed. 'I didn't mean it like that, sweetie. Just . . . ' she lowered her voice, 'be careful, honey. I like you alive.'
It was my turn to roll the emeralds.
~*~
Mum and Andy were finally gone. Not that I particularly wanted them to leave. I kind of even went as far as staring wistfully as their car pulled out of the driveway. But no biggie. I'd live.
I hoped.
Ha, great attitude, Suze.
I turned the TV on, and sat watching the Simpsons for about ten minutes, when the frigging power cut out! I couldn't' believe it! I totally went ballistic at the TV, and almost knocked it over, but managed to salvage it with a spectacularly adroit save. Andy would have my bones for toothpicks if I wrecked that old idiot's box. I groaned. Great. Just great!
So that calling Father Dom if anything went wrong theory was shot. Mum had even taken her stupid mobile. My God, could this suck any more?
Well . . . yeah, but let's forget about that . . .
All was silent. Again. This seriously sucked, having to be a loner again. I kind of wished that I had invited CeeCee to stay the night. It would have been much better to know that I had company. But no . . . It didn't feel right.
For the whole day, I'd been denying reality. But the quiet seemed to forbid charades any longer. I had to face up to the truth. That I'd made a mistake with Jesse. That Paul wasn't as far away as I would have liked him to be . . .
But since when has my luck improved. The minute I walked in through the door, I heard it slam behind me loudly. I jumped, and spun around, eyeing everything suspiciously, but all scepticism was substituted with that fear that made my heart rate increase, and my mind go blank with dread.
Paul stared at me coldly from where he stood. A chill sheathed me, like my blood had crystallized into cutting, glaciated shards of red ice. It pierced from beneath my skin.
Okay, now I was REALLY wishing I'd invited CeeCee to stay the night.
So that encounter in the hospital, it hadn't been a dream. How I'd been wishing that it had been one . . . That this wasn't real.
Why did my life suddenly seem like some horribly nightmare? If I pinched myself, would I wake up? And what would I find if I did wake? A Carmel- residing Jesse who loved me, yet his family did not? Paul gone, still haunting me? These insecurities about myself? Either way, my life was no dream. There was no escape, no waking up. Paul enjoyed making this nightmare real. Making me feel the reality. The pain . . .
'Well, well, well . . . looks like little Susie's alone again,' he said, cocking his head and leaning against the door coolly, his mouth open slightly in mirth. Why did there have to be a frigging POWER CUT? As if it wasn't creepy enough with the lights on? It was NOT fair, I tell you! You know? I really felt worthy to say that "Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?" thing. I know, it was a bit dramatic, but give me a break.
(A/N: What? I am Catholic, and I it is Good Friday. So sue me?)
Paul stayed where he was. And so he should have. I'm scary, too. I promise. I could really fuzz up his fur if he pissed me off enough.
Grrr, argh . . .
Oh, all right. I know, I suck.
Yet the whole "staying away" thing wasn't panning out for him, you know? If the way he was taking those slow, definite steps towards me was any indication.
'Stay away,' I advised him my abhorrence evident even in the darkness. 'Stay far away from me.'
He stopped, and crossed his arms. 'Aw, but we've been through this, Susie –'
'Suze,' I spat at him.
'Suuuuuuuuuusie . . . '
'Shut up!' I shouted at him.
Despite the predictable absence of luminosity, I saw his lips pull in to a smirk. It taunted me. I shivered; my pumping, stabbing blood flow was cuttingly painful now. Did he know that he had this affect on me? That he subjected me to this pain every time he came into my presence? I would never tell him, he'd probably be fulfilled. Another Paul Slater achievement, you know?
His mother must be so proud.
Frankly, I was disgusted. With him, and with myself, for allowing him to disturb me so. Mess with my mind, and above all, with my heart . . .
He took another step closer to me. 'Sit down,' he said.
I stared at him. 'Hell no. I prefer to –'
'Sit,' he snarled, his hands illuminating with this crackling black electricity orb! I freaked, and stumbled back onto my bed in alarm. Ghosts having BALLS OF ELECTRICITY? This was not on! No, never had I seen one of those! What was with this guy? Was he . . . more than just a ghost?
I stared up at him in horror. What? I was horrified that he could conjure that black energy thing up, okay? Cut me some slack, it was a rude shock. I don't get spheres of voltage flashed in my face every day. And certainly not by a GHOST, who I assumed I knew so well . . .
'Well,' he said in a cheerful voice, which had a dark edge that scythed me also, 'It has been a while since we've been in here, hasn't it?'
'What do you mean? You were here yesterday,' I pointed out.
'I wasn't. Not here, in your room. Our room,' he corrected himself. 'That little fiasco took place downstairs, if you don't recall.'
'I don't.'
'Hmm,' he smirked even more broadly. 'I remember everything. And I seem to remember especially, that I saved your life, Susie.'
He WHAT?
I stared at him, bamboozled. 'Yeah, whatever, cheese dick.'
He twitched at the nickname, but chose wisely to ignore it. 'It's true,' he said. 'I saved you, Suze. You can't get out of it this time. You owe me.'
'No I don't. It just makes up for when you tried to kill me,' I said simply. 'Well, almost.'
His smile dropped like hot potato.
'Excuse me? I think not,' he snarled, lashing out and shattering my mirror in anger.
'My God,' I said, remaining calm. 'Do you know how quickly I go through those now because of you?'
I mean, come on. Was he so intent on me never gazing upon my reflection?
'So what do you want?' I said, cutting to the chase. I was mysteriously managing to suppress this fear. It was overwhelming me, but it still hurt like the fires of hell.
Another step closer.
'What is it always?' he asked.
Another step.
'Yeah, but that's kind of getting old. And if what you want is what I think you want, it's not yours for the taking.'
'And whose is it?'
'It?'
'Yeah . . . it.'
'Oh. Hypothetical, are we? Well, it doesn't have an owner. It is it's own owner. It isn't some slave. It isn't on your level,' I said snidely.
I hadn't realized, of course, that Paul was standing right over me. It was very intimidating having him right above me like that. Looking down on me. As he always did.
But I still knew that I was above him. And . . . he knew it too. That was why he tried to hard to stay in power, to control me.
Oh my God, I never knew that before!
. . . Where was the fear now?
It had gone.
I didn't feel afraid.
Not anymore.
I stood up angrily, I with a blazing anger that energized me, I really let him have it. There was no passion in this fight, it merely felt like I was proving a point. A bored little point, that I wasn't a damsel in distress. But as I went to punch him after repeatedly doing so, he seemed to find it necessary to cut me down to size again.
If the way he twisted my arm, right behind my back stood for anything.
I gasped. 'Shit! Let go, will you?'
And the fear began filtering back in. The numbness left. Comprehension hit home.
He really was in control, Suze.
He pulled me very close against himself, my back to him. It was an abrupt movement, forceful and hurting. I rolled my neck gingerly, and felt his breath right beside my ears. Breath . . . he didn't deserve it. He was just a ghost . . . Wincing, I tried to pull away, but he was still so strong . . . Physically powerful.
'Ah, Suze,' he hissed in my ear, 'Doesn't this seem familiar? Where have we done this before?'
I stopped thrashing about. 'What do you mean?'
'Obviously, I know,' he clued me in.
I went very still. He knew. He knew about the dreams . . . he knew about the fear . . . the desire . . .
NO!
'Liar,' I sneered, and again tried to struggle away from him, but I don't think it'll ever really work.
'I'm not lying.' I felt his chin rub against the side of my face, gently, and coldly. I shivered.
He flexed his hands on my shoulders. And oh so inevitably, I was succumbing to the darkness . . . Just through the silence . . .
'You're feeling it,' he whispered. 'I can feel it too . . . '
Indeed I was. I was lost in the darkness, the evil, the sin . . . It was wrong, what was happening. I could feel my heart beating in time with my breath; both were impossibly fast, like I'd just run a marathon. No . . .
This wasn't what I wanted.
It was what Paul wanted.
*And Paul Slater always gets what he wants . . . *
No . . .
Slow-burning passion washed over me in waves of acid rain. This was . . . wrong.
NO! I'm STRONGER than this!
I yanked myself away from him. 'No!' I cried, 'I won't let you do this to me! You can't just make me love you! All you feel is . . . is lust!' I cried, falling to the floor.
Paul was over me like ants on a disposed candy bar.
He dived down on me, and forced me to a lying position, making me face him.
'I CAN though!' he said through gritted teeth. 'Don't tell me what I feel!'
'You have no trouble telling me what I feel,' I retorted. 'You think you're the master of my emotions or something. Get a CLUE,' I shouted, and miraculously, was able to – seriously – kick him off! Suze is making progress, people!
He crashed into my wardrobe in a shower of coat hangers. I took the opportunity to hightail it out of there –
Okay, well, it was a good attempt, okay? I almost escaped, but noooo . . . Paul just can't take defeat graciously, can he? Oh, he had to go all out with the shoving-Suze-against-the-wall thing, didn't he? He held me there so forcefully with his body, I was beginning to lose sensation in my lower body. It was THAT bad. I kind of felt like I was going to collapse if he did move. That was worse.
Which I probably was.
'Why, why are you doing this?' I asked him in a conquered tone.
'Because, it's what I want,' he replied, thrusting me even more vehemently against the wall. I cried out. 'And it's what you want, too . . .'
'It's not –'
'You don't know what you want, Suze. You've got these naïve ideas about our little friend De Silva, and seriously, what good is he going to do for you?' he demanded, jamming his hand against the wall, about a millimeter from where my head would have been if I hadn't have moved it.
'Well, I dunno, he's ALIVE?' I spotlighted.
That kind of did it. I guess you're not supposed to rub it into a dead guy that he's, well, dead. It really doesn't do. Oh, not at all.
I think this point was proven when he threw me on my bed and started to rip my top off me. I screamed in protest . . .
Point taken already!
Paul's blue eyes were burning brightly above me.
'Paul, DON'T!' I yelped. I screwed my face up, trying to hide in the darkness of my mind. No such luck. His eyes were scorched into my memory.
Now the terror was full-blown, blinding! Overwhelming, murdering . . .
I was still screaming shrilly. Alone . . .
'PLEASE!'
Revenge of the blue eyes. Oh, yes, revenge this was. He was hurting me, violating me . . .
I felt like I was dying.
And amid my shrieks of horror, the ripping of fabric, and Paul's passionate growling, and a stabbing pain that entered me suddenly, a shower of illumined blue glitter totally caught my attention. But I bet you it was a hallucination. Something I needed so desperately to see, in this time of despair, pain, terror . . .
'Susannah!' Jesse yelled in horror.
I just wished I were dead.
Stop the pain, the mind games . . . I needed the real Jesse, not some image my mind projected.
* "It's me that has the control, Susie . . . "*
Dying.
Death.
. . . Dead.
**************************************************************************** ***************
No, Paul isn't raping Suze. And NO, she's not dead. She's just feeling it. Suze it's WAY too dramatic, we know that. Look how she blew the whole Jesse/Querida thing out of proportion? And isn't Cora a bitch? Don't get all peeved with me, please. I hope it wasn't too much of a cliffie. I'm trying to tone them all down lately, due to the annoyed reviewers calling me evil. Hehehe . . . I try. But yeah, Chapter 11 should be up soon. HOLIDAYS! :: Does weird, life-mortifying dance ::
Um . . . erase that from your memory . . .
Regards, MystAngel.
You guys ROCK! Katie is also really pleased with the reviews. I'm not so pleased with her, she's taking her sweet time giving me her ideas for the 2nd chapter for me to write it up. But yeah . . .
What did you think of this chapter? REVIEW! Love ya!
To celebrate, I'm going to write a lot more, (I hope.) I'm worried that I might be coming into a inspiration dry spell, so yeah. But what I did, I write a spell to summon a muse? Let's see if it works. Hehehe . . . I think that a lot of my chapters have been lacking that little bit of personality that I always try to put into my stories. They've become a little impersonal and distant, because that's how I've been feeling lately. Well, let's see how we go? And Jasmine? Yeah, I got the chapter title from your review. I hope you don't mind it seemed to fit. Amelia? NO this is not the end of the Addicted story. It's got a while to go yet. What do you think I'm going to do with Tad and his dad? Lol . . . but like you, Reunion was one of my favourites, and I'm DYING to write. Especially with the plot that I have planned, that only a few of you know about, muahahaha! Yeah . . . um, so here we go.
Oh!
### READ CAREFULLY ###
Also, contrary to the belief, I AM still stuck on the plot. BUT not for this story. It seems a LOT of people have misunderstood me. It's very stressing, lol. I'm WRITING ANOTHER Jesse&Paul swap story, NOTHING to do with this one. I need your ideas on an IDEAL plot for a Mediator fanfic. NOT THIS ONE, a DIFFERENT one! Please don't misapprehend this, I'm desperate now. I'm dying to write the fanfic, and hardly anyone's written anything in reply.
### Okay . . . ###
Enjoy!
Love Lolly.
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Suze's POV.
'Susie, honey . . . it's me. It's Mummy.'
I blinked hazily. Huh? Mum's pretty, middle-aged face entered my vision. It seemed a long time since I'd seen it, some how.
Mum saw me open my eyes. 'Oh, love,' she said thankfully. She ran her thumb repeatedly across my forehead, 'You gave me such a scare, you little brat.' But she said it with such love in her voice, I took no offense or anything.
'Hello to you to,' I smiled at her grimly. I looked around. Oh yeah, the hospital. I felt the side of my neck. Two bumps. Damn, it wasn't a dream then.
That meant something else, as well.
Paul was back.
'Susie? Why are you frowning? Do you want me to go get a nurse? She said –'
'I'm fine,' I shook my head firmly. She sighed, a wobbly smile playing on her lips. Her eyes looked very anxious still. 'You gave everyone a big fright, Suze. Andy, me, Father Dominic, David, your little school friends, God, even Brad.'
'Whoa,' I said.
'Exactly,' she said in hushed tones. 'He'll crucify me for saying it, but he doesn't hate you as much as he pretends to. It's just a stepbrother thing.' She gave me a cynical look and then giggled. I smiled at her.
Again, she sighed, shaking her head slowly. 'Oh, Suze . . . What happened here?' Her hand motioned to no where in general, just towards me.
'I really don't remember,' I lied, looking at the vase of daisies that were mysteriously on the bench. 'Who are they from?'
'Your friend Adam.'
'Oh,' I said with disappointment. Of course they weren't from him, Suze. He doesn't even know you're here. He probably doesn't even care that you're here. Don't flatter yourself.
'Suze,' she said, a look of shock on her face, 'Oh, my, I just remembered. A boy repeatedly rung you, and we had to tell him that we didn't know where you were. That was before we found out that you were here. He simply insisted on talking to you. His name was Jerry, or something.'
My heart thudded. 'Jesse?' I asked squeakily.
She smiled. 'Ah, that's the one. Who is he, Suze?'
'No one,' I said bitterly, crossing my arms and snuggling deeper into the pillows. Her hand paused on my warm forehead. 'Susannah,' she said seriously, 'Who was he?'
'No one,' I stressed, frowning at her. 'Just drop it.'
'No,' she snapped, removing her hand from my face completely. 'Was he giving you trouble? Was he threatening you in some –'
'Nothing like that,' I said in horror. Why I was horrified, I have no idea. But I was. It just seemed so un-Jesse-like to even contemplate him threatening a girl. He seemed to be noble towards all the lucky members of the female population, always wanting to be a gentleman–
Oh my God . . .
OF COURSE!
'Mum!' I cried, 'Get me a phone!'
She looked alarmed. 'Susie, what? What on earth do you need a phone for?'
'I need to make a phone call,' I replied urgently.
'Well, I guessed THAT, I mean, I doubted you needed it to paint your nails,' she scowled, 'But who are you calling? That boy?'
'Yes, okay? Please, get me one!'
'Susannah, do you even know his number?' she asked angrily.
I deflated a great deal. 'No,' I said in a small voice.
Mum nodded curtly. 'I thought as much. So like you to rush into things. I really wish you would tell me more about this boy, Susannah. You haven't . . . '
'Ew,' I said. 'God no. We went out. It was pretty short. I have mentioned him to you, Mum. Remember last week? I said I was going to dinner –'
'With a friend,' she said, recalling perfectly. 'Not a "boy" friend. So don't try to squirm out of this. Why didn't you want me to know about him? He isn't . . . what Jake told me, is he? Because Susannah, I swear to God, if you are dating a boy who is in a mob, or has the slightest criminal record –'
'Would you RELAX?' I half-shouted, twisting away from her. 'Jesse's as clean as a whistle.' Besides the fact that he kind of committed homicide, but we'll just, er, skip that little part. His intentions were good.
I knew that now. So well . . .
Oh God, what had I done? Why had I just assumed that he'd been so ready to cheat on me? Jesse was the kind of person who'd help anyone, (save Paul). This Querida Andres, she must have been some poor clueless mediator he found, and was training. And I'd just jumped to conclusions.
Man, did I feel low.
Oh God, smite thee now. Spare the world, why don't you?
I sank into a heavy, steady guilt. Those horrible things I'd thought about Jesse, all those nasty things. They'd been misdirected. Unprovoked. I was a terrible human being! I'd treated him so badly, when all he'd been trying to do was explain! But, hey! What did he expect, popping out a line like, "I've met someone"? I mean, SERIOUSLY. You just DON'T say something like that to your girlfriend, and expect her to realize that you're training said someone in areas of mediation, without said girlfriend blowing her top. Right? Of COURSE I'm right! This was all his fault! If he hadn't have said such a stupid thing, none of this would have happened. I wouldn't have gone to meet Tad, his dad wouldn't have went all Dracula on me, and Tad wouldn't have tried to finish off his evil doings. I mean, what a SUCKY father-son project? All Jesse's fault. Yeah, so screw him.
Oh, I needed to talk to him!
I'm such a loser . . .
'Susie? Are you even listening to me?' Mum demanded.
'No,' I said dreamily, too lost in my own sympathy to remember that my mother was giving me a lecture or mother/daughter communication, or something.
~*~
'Okay, Miss Ackerman, you look right to leave,' the nurse smiled at me.
'Simon,' I said.
'I'm sorry?'
'My last name is Simon. Not Ackerman.'
'Oh, I must have the wrong –'
'No, you don't. My mum's last name is Ackerman. She remarried,' I explained boredly, sitting on my bed and swinging my legs.
'I see . . . well, Miss Simon, you seem okay. We have given details to your mother about what to do if anything goes wrong, but it is a rare occasion that something does. You are a very lucky girl. We were worried that you wouldn't pull through; you lost a great deal of blood. But you're right now. I hope we don't see you back in here too soon,' she smiled, clutching a notebook, her wispy blond curls bouncing happily.
'Right,' I said.
After I was discharged from hospital, mum drove me home. She wasn't too happy with me, if truth be told, like I ASKED to be drained dry by a Transylvanian aspirant. Oh, yes, suck my blood, please. As IF.
But she didn't know anything about Tad, and I wanted to keep it that way.
Oh, didn't I.
I finally got home, and went straight into the kitchen. Hey? I was hungry, okay?
'Ah, and there she is,' Andy smiled, as he skillfully pulled a steaming oven dish out of the, ironically, oven. 'Fancy something to eat?'
'Starved,' I said dully, plopping into a chair.
I noticed he was watching me rather carefully.
'What are you looking at?' I said with a wise guy smile.
'Something I'd rather not be,' he shot back with a grin. I screwed up a bit of paper and threw it at him.
It bounced off his arm as he shielded himself. 'That paper had something on it, you know. Something you might wanna take a look at.'
I frowned. 'Huh?'
He served me a plate of this creamy pasta, and returned my flimsy weapon to me. The steam of the food made my face very hot, and a little wet. I moved away from it, feeling slightly flustered, and smoothed the crumpled paper.
It had a phone number on it. A very long one.
It was Jesse's, from Spain.
My breath ripped at my chest. I had to call him, he needed to know how sorry I was! He needed to know that I was wrong, and that I was the world's biggest loser, and primarily, that . . . that Paul was back.
No, the most important thing he needed to know was that I loved him. That information was second to none.
'Suze? You sane?' Andy queried.
I shook myself out of my daze, and said in a slightly crackled voice, 'Um, y . . . yeah. Can I use the phone?'
'Free country,' he shrugged. I nodded a little more than necessary, and grabbed the receiver very hastily, dialing the numbers. It felt very weird to be ringing Spain. I mean, a what if the person who picked up didn't understand me? What if they thought I was Chinese or someithing, or I was a terrorist, or a stalker, or –
'Hello?'
That familiar conceited tone sang richly over the line.
'Hey, Cora,' I said coldly.
She was silent for a moment. 'Oh, it's you.'
'Yeah. Dramatic irony,' I said, 'That you answered. I need to talk to Jesse.'
'He's –'
'Right now,' I interrupted her.
'-Not in,' she replied smugly, as if I hadn't spoken. 'Off with this girl he met. She's really nice, and she's one of those mediums also. She knows a lot more than you do,' she added nastily.
I couldn't think of a spiteful reply quick enough, so she continued.
'She's really pretty, and she wears her skirts the appropriate length for a lady. She listens to Jesse and minds her place, and she is NEVER rude to me. So you can pack your bags, Susie. She's so much prettier than you.'
'Hey,' I snapped, 'Do I go around dissing you? Just because I think that you have a ferret face, I'd NEVER tell you.'
'Oh!' she said, obscenely insulted, 'You – you . . . perra! Un burro sabe mas que tu!'
I blinked. 'I'm so offended, Cora. Sticks and stones, dude. Especially if it's in Spanish. Your wit is wasted on me. I speak American, in case your memory has failed you again?'
I could hear her dislike. 'You are a zorra,' she said. 'You need not know what it means, only that you are one. La caída! Vete al carajo! La –'
That was when the phone was yanked away from her.
'Susie!'
It was Esmerelda. Aw, I really wanted to kiss her and pinch her at the same time for calling me that.
'Hello, Esmerelda,' I smiled. Hey? I prefer this little one to "Heart" any day. What was it with stupid translations, anyway? Corazon = heart, Querida = dear. I mean, come ON. Did these Spanish mammas have non-existent IQs? Really . . .
'Jesse says that you have nice legs,' she commented.
Again, I blinked. 'Um . . . tell him he does to. Is he there at all?'
'No,' she said sadly. 'I miss Jesse. He's funny. He laughs like a hyena.'
'He does not,' I scowled, but kindly. Jesse had the sexiest, nicest, most lovable laugh ever. He sounded nothing like a hyena. 'I think you're confusing him with Cora.' What? I was being a bitch, so what? Cora topped that category.
'So, he's not there?' I checked. 'Are you sure? It's very important I –'
But the phone was yanked back from her.
'Listen, you revoltosa,' Cora's rich voice spat into the phone, 'Get lost. Jesse is out of your reach. He in courting Querida now. She is more noble than you. He has no interest for a stupid little girl like you.'
'Oh,' I said, 'Well, why has he called my like, eighteen times then?'
'Because – he – uh . . . just go away!' she snapped.
Ha. Gotcha, you brat.
'Cora? Get your head out of your butt,' I said to her. 'It'll help with the head swelling, I promise you.'
And I hung up.
There's only so much cattiness a girl can take, after all.
~*~
While eating the now cooler bowl of pasta – cabonara, SO nice – Mum came to see me.
'Susie,' she said, frowning, 'Oh, I feel terrible . . . '
'Why?' I asked through a mouthful of starchy goodness.
She tugged on the dark brown hair that I had inherited from her. 'Well, the WCAL needs me to do some shooting tonight. The boys are all out, and Andy's coming with me for the drive because my eyes aren't too good at the moment. I'm going to get them checked out at the optometrist on Fri . . . anyway, I have to leave you all by yourself,' she said guiltily. 'I feel terrible about it after what happened the other day, Susie. I don't want you to end up in hospital again. The nurse tld me that so many things could go wrong after this silly blood transfusion, like, it could have a nasty reaction with the blood that –'
'Mum,' I cut her short, 'I'll be fine. It's okay, really.'
She looked even more harassed. 'Oh, but Susie. I would feel so much better if you went over to CeeCee's or something,' she begged, grabbing hold of my hand.
(A/N: I'm trying to keep a straight face while writing this. My brother is playing the song, "Rollin', rollin', rollin'' in the back round, complete with the whip cracks and stuff. And why does this guy singing the song call the cows "donkeys"? It's this huge mystery, I think. Was he on something? Hehehe . . . Trust me to break a mood.)
I wrenched it away. My hand, I mean. 'Mum, I'm a big girl, much as you are forgetting. I can actually take care of myself.'
She shot me a sarcastic look. 'Oh, and you weren't just discharged from hospital this morning after being attacked,' she said, rolling her eyes.
'Mum!' I said, 'you rolled your eyes at me! What things are you picking up from Andy? I think that he has a bad influence on you, young lady. I don't want you seeing him anymore. Although, that could be a problem, seeing that you are kind of bound by holy matrimony and all that crap . . . '
A smile broke out across her lips. She really was pretty. What went wrong with me? She had a genuine smile, a mumsy one, but real. It made you feel comfortable.
'Oh, you . . . all right, you can stay on your own. But I swear to God, Susannah, if anything goes wrong, call . . . I don't know, Father Dominic or something. He seems like a responsible person. And he truly worries about you. Can't imagine why,' she mused, looking at the ceiling thoughtfully.
'Oh, thanks,' I blew a strand of hair out of my face.
She laughed. 'I didn't mean it like that, sweetie. Just . . . ' she lowered her voice, 'be careful, honey. I like you alive.'
It was my turn to roll the emeralds.
~*~
Mum and Andy were finally gone. Not that I particularly wanted them to leave. I kind of even went as far as staring wistfully as their car pulled out of the driveway. But no biggie. I'd live.
I hoped.
Ha, great attitude, Suze.
I turned the TV on, and sat watching the Simpsons for about ten minutes, when the frigging power cut out! I couldn't' believe it! I totally went ballistic at the TV, and almost knocked it over, but managed to salvage it with a spectacularly adroit save. Andy would have my bones for toothpicks if I wrecked that old idiot's box. I groaned. Great. Just great!
So that calling Father Dom if anything went wrong theory was shot. Mum had even taken her stupid mobile. My God, could this suck any more?
Well . . . yeah, but let's forget about that . . .
All was silent. Again. This seriously sucked, having to be a loner again. I kind of wished that I had invited CeeCee to stay the night. It would have been much better to know that I had company. But no . . . It didn't feel right.
For the whole day, I'd been denying reality. But the quiet seemed to forbid charades any longer. I had to face up to the truth. That I'd made a mistake with Jesse. That Paul wasn't as far away as I would have liked him to be . . .
But since when has my luck improved. The minute I walked in through the door, I heard it slam behind me loudly. I jumped, and spun around, eyeing everything suspiciously, but all scepticism was substituted with that fear that made my heart rate increase, and my mind go blank with dread.
Paul stared at me coldly from where he stood. A chill sheathed me, like my blood had crystallized into cutting, glaciated shards of red ice. It pierced from beneath my skin.
Okay, now I was REALLY wishing I'd invited CeeCee to stay the night.
So that encounter in the hospital, it hadn't been a dream. How I'd been wishing that it had been one . . . That this wasn't real.
Why did my life suddenly seem like some horribly nightmare? If I pinched myself, would I wake up? And what would I find if I did wake? A Carmel- residing Jesse who loved me, yet his family did not? Paul gone, still haunting me? These insecurities about myself? Either way, my life was no dream. There was no escape, no waking up. Paul enjoyed making this nightmare real. Making me feel the reality. The pain . . .
'Well, well, well . . . looks like little Susie's alone again,' he said, cocking his head and leaning against the door coolly, his mouth open slightly in mirth. Why did there have to be a frigging POWER CUT? As if it wasn't creepy enough with the lights on? It was NOT fair, I tell you! You know? I really felt worthy to say that "Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?" thing. I know, it was a bit dramatic, but give me a break.
(A/N: What? I am Catholic, and I it is Good Friday. So sue me?)
Paul stayed where he was. And so he should have. I'm scary, too. I promise. I could really fuzz up his fur if he pissed me off enough.
Grrr, argh . . .
Oh, all right. I know, I suck.
Yet the whole "staying away" thing wasn't panning out for him, you know? If the way he was taking those slow, definite steps towards me was any indication.
'Stay away,' I advised him my abhorrence evident even in the darkness. 'Stay far away from me.'
He stopped, and crossed his arms. 'Aw, but we've been through this, Susie –'
'Suze,' I spat at him.
'Suuuuuuuuuusie . . . '
'Shut up!' I shouted at him.
Despite the predictable absence of luminosity, I saw his lips pull in to a smirk. It taunted me. I shivered; my pumping, stabbing blood flow was cuttingly painful now. Did he know that he had this affect on me? That he subjected me to this pain every time he came into my presence? I would never tell him, he'd probably be fulfilled. Another Paul Slater achievement, you know?
His mother must be so proud.
Frankly, I was disgusted. With him, and with myself, for allowing him to disturb me so. Mess with my mind, and above all, with my heart . . .
He took another step closer to me. 'Sit down,' he said.
I stared at him. 'Hell no. I prefer to –'
'Sit,' he snarled, his hands illuminating with this crackling black electricity orb! I freaked, and stumbled back onto my bed in alarm. Ghosts having BALLS OF ELECTRICITY? This was not on! No, never had I seen one of those! What was with this guy? Was he . . . more than just a ghost?
I stared up at him in horror. What? I was horrified that he could conjure that black energy thing up, okay? Cut me some slack, it was a rude shock. I don't get spheres of voltage flashed in my face every day. And certainly not by a GHOST, who I assumed I knew so well . . .
'Well,' he said in a cheerful voice, which had a dark edge that scythed me also, 'It has been a while since we've been in here, hasn't it?'
'What do you mean? You were here yesterday,' I pointed out.
'I wasn't. Not here, in your room. Our room,' he corrected himself. 'That little fiasco took place downstairs, if you don't recall.'
'I don't.'
'Hmm,' he smirked even more broadly. 'I remember everything. And I seem to remember especially, that I saved your life, Susie.'
He WHAT?
I stared at him, bamboozled. 'Yeah, whatever, cheese dick.'
He twitched at the nickname, but chose wisely to ignore it. 'It's true,' he said. 'I saved you, Suze. You can't get out of it this time. You owe me.'
'No I don't. It just makes up for when you tried to kill me,' I said simply. 'Well, almost.'
His smile dropped like hot potato.
'Excuse me? I think not,' he snarled, lashing out and shattering my mirror in anger.
'My God,' I said, remaining calm. 'Do you know how quickly I go through those now because of you?'
I mean, come on. Was he so intent on me never gazing upon my reflection?
'So what do you want?' I said, cutting to the chase. I was mysteriously managing to suppress this fear. It was overwhelming me, but it still hurt like the fires of hell.
Another step closer.
'What is it always?' he asked.
Another step.
'Yeah, but that's kind of getting old. And if what you want is what I think you want, it's not yours for the taking.'
'And whose is it?'
'It?'
'Yeah . . . it.'
'Oh. Hypothetical, are we? Well, it doesn't have an owner. It is it's own owner. It isn't some slave. It isn't on your level,' I said snidely.
I hadn't realized, of course, that Paul was standing right over me. It was very intimidating having him right above me like that. Looking down on me. As he always did.
But I still knew that I was above him. And . . . he knew it too. That was why he tried to hard to stay in power, to control me.
Oh my God, I never knew that before!
. . . Where was the fear now?
It had gone.
I didn't feel afraid.
Not anymore.
I stood up angrily, I with a blazing anger that energized me, I really let him have it. There was no passion in this fight, it merely felt like I was proving a point. A bored little point, that I wasn't a damsel in distress. But as I went to punch him after repeatedly doing so, he seemed to find it necessary to cut me down to size again.
If the way he twisted my arm, right behind my back stood for anything.
I gasped. 'Shit! Let go, will you?'
And the fear began filtering back in. The numbness left. Comprehension hit home.
He really was in control, Suze.
He pulled me very close against himself, my back to him. It was an abrupt movement, forceful and hurting. I rolled my neck gingerly, and felt his breath right beside my ears. Breath . . . he didn't deserve it. He was just a ghost . . . Wincing, I tried to pull away, but he was still so strong . . . Physically powerful.
'Ah, Suze,' he hissed in my ear, 'Doesn't this seem familiar? Where have we done this before?'
I stopped thrashing about. 'What do you mean?'
'Obviously, I know,' he clued me in.
I went very still. He knew. He knew about the dreams . . . he knew about the fear . . . the desire . . .
NO!
'Liar,' I sneered, and again tried to struggle away from him, but I don't think it'll ever really work.
'I'm not lying.' I felt his chin rub against the side of my face, gently, and coldly. I shivered.
He flexed his hands on my shoulders. And oh so inevitably, I was succumbing to the darkness . . . Just through the silence . . .
'You're feeling it,' he whispered. 'I can feel it too . . . '
Indeed I was. I was lost in the darkness, the evil, the sin . . . It was wrong, what was happening. I could feel my heart beating in time with my breath; both were impossibly fast, like I'd just run a marathon. No . . .
This wasn't what I wanted.
It was what Paul wanted.
*And Paul Slater always gets what he wants . . . *
No . . .
Slow-burning passion washed over me in waves of acid rain. This was . . . wrong.
NO! I'm STRONGER than this!
I yanked myself away from him. 'No!' I cried, 'I won't let you do this to me! You can't just make me love you! All you feel is . . . is lust!' I cried, falling to the floor.
Paul was over me like ants on a disposed candy bar.
He dived down on me, and forced me to a lying position, making me face him.
'I CAN though!' he said through gritted teeth. 'Don't tell me what I feel!'
'You have no trouble telling me what I feel,' I retorted. 'You think you're the master of my emotions or something. Get a CLUE,' I shouted, and miraculously, was able to – seriously – kick him off! Suze is making progress, people!
He crashed into my wardrobe in a shower of coat hangers. I took the opportunity to hightail it out of there –
Okay, well, it was a good attempt, okay? I almost escaped, but noooo . . . Paul just can't take defeat graciously, can he? Oh, he had to go all out with the shoving-Suze-against-the-wall thing, didn't he? He held me there so forcefully with his body, I was beginning to lose sensation in my lower body. It was THAT bad. I kind of felt like I was going to collapse if he did move. That was worse.
Which I probably was.
'Why, why are you doing this?' I asked him in a conquered tone.
'Because, it's what I want,' he replied, thrusting me even more vehemently against the wall. I cried out. 'And it's what you want, too . . .'
'It's not –'
'You don't know what you want, Suze. You've got these naïve ideas about our little friend De Silva, and seriously, what good is he going to do for you?' he demanded, jamming his hand against the wall, about a millimeter from where my head would have been if I hadn't have moved it.
'Well, I dunno, he's ALIVE?' I spotlighted.
That kind of did it. I guess you're not supposed to rub it into a dead guy that he's, well, dead. It really doesn't do. Oh, not at all.
I think this point was proven when he threw me on my bed and started to rip my top off me. I screamed in protest . . .
Point taken already!
Paul's blue eyes were burning brightly above me.
'Paul, DON'T!' I yelped. I screwed my face up, trying to hide in the darkness of my mind. No such luck. His eyes were scorched into my memory.
Now the terror was full-blown, blinding! Overwhelming, murdering . . .
I was still screaming shrilly. Alone . . .
'PLEASE!'
Revenge of the blue eyes. Oh, yes, revenge this was. He was hurting me, violating me . . .
I felt like I was dying.
And amid my shrieks of horror, the ripping of fabric, and Paul's passionate growling, and a stabbing pain that entered me suddenly, a shower of illumined blue glitter totally caught my attention. But I bet you it was a hallucination. Something I needed so desperately to see, in this time of despair, pain, terror . . .
'Susannah!' Jesse yelled in horror.
I just wished I were dead.
Stop the pain, the mind games . . . I needed the real Jesse, not some image my mind projected.
* "It's me that has the control, Susie . . . "*
Dying.
Death.
. . . Dead.
**************************************************************************** ***************
No, Paul isn't raping Suze. And NO, she's not dead. She's just feeling it. Suze it's WAY too dramatic, we know that. Look how she blew the whole Jesse/Querida thing out of proportion? And isn't Cora a bitch? Don't get all peeved with me, please. I hope it wasn't too much of a cliffie. I'm trying to tone them all down lately, due to the annoyed reviewers calling me evil. Hehehe . . . I try. But yeah, Chapter 11 should be up soon. HOLIDAYS! :: Does weird, life-mortifying dance ::
Um . . . erase that from your memory . . .
Regards, MystAngel.
You guys ROCK! Katie is also really pleased with the reviews. I'm not so pleased with her, she's taking her sweet time giving me her ideas for the 2nd chapter for me to write it up. But yeah . . .
What did you think of this chapter? REVIEW! Love ya!