Philip inwardly cringed as he crossed the foyer and crept toward the
stairs. At his side, Chloe looked equally uncomfortable.
Nodding toward the living room, Philip explained in a whisper, "One of the servants has been stealing Nicole's jewelry and some of the silverware. I guess my dad finally figured out who it was."
Chloe quickly stole a glance toward the source of the raised voices before accompanying Philip upstairs. Once the duo reached Philip's bedroom, each released a sigh of relief. Neither relished witnessing the wrath of Victor Kiriakis.
As Philip busied himself with unloading his backpack and leafing through his mail, Chloe silently observed her surroundings. It was the first time she had been in Philip's bedroom since they had broken up, and she was curious to see what changes Philip had made to his living space.
An indefinable emotion grasped Chloe when her gaze fell upon Philip's nightstand. Where once had sat a framed photograph of her and Philip at the Last Blast Dance was now an empty photo frame.
Across the room, Philip's dresser lay barren. Less than six months earlier, it had been cluttered with photographs of Philip with Chloe and arbitrary objects that were significant to them as a couple.
Tearing Chloe from her observations, Philip jovially held up an envelope and stated, "Looks like I got a letter from my sister Billie."
Chloe smiled, albeit weakly. As Philip opened the envelope and pulled out a few sheets of paper, Chloe returned to surveying his bedroom. Almost to herself, the brunette whispered, "A lot has changed in the past year."
Philip looked up from Billie's letter. "Yeah," he cautiously answered. "I suppose it has." He suddenly felt as if his correspondences could be put on hold for a few hours. Once he had stuffed the letter back into the envelope, Philip hesitantly asked, "Are you okay?"
"I guess I've just got a lot to think about."
There was an aloofness in Chloe's voice that unnerved Philip. Though he doubted she would want to share her true problems, Philip was sure that Chloe had more worries than an accidental kiss with Shawn Brady. "You know I'm here if you need to talk.".
A rather hopeful smile conquered Chloe's face. "So, this is what it's like to be your friend . . . I'm lucky to have you in my life, Philip."
It quickly became Philip's turn to be ill at ease. His gaze traveled around his bedroom, focusing on everything but Chloe. He had mentally accepted Chloe as a friend long ago. Yet, the wound from the emotional transition was still tender.
Opting to change the course of the discussion, Philip asked, "Have you and Shawn talked about the kiss?"
"Not really. We've been avoiding each other all week."
Philip nodded his understanding. Posing a more difficult question, he prodded, "What about Brady? When are you going to talk to him about it?"
For a brief moment, Philip was certain that he saw guilt wash across Chloe's face. Yet, if it had been there, it was quickly masked.
"Actually, I'm not sure if I should even bother to tell Brady - or Belle." As though she felt the need to justify her lack of intended action, Chloe added, "After all, it was just a misunderstanding."
"Yeah, but if you don't tell Brady and Belle, it becomes a secret."
The logic behind Philip's words struck Chloe with surprising force. She wondered if such maturity and insight were an aspect of Philip that had been hidden or if he had finally relinquished his last holds on boyhood. If the latter was the case, Chloe was immensely curious what could have happened to jolt Philip into a more adult-like mindset.
"Chloe, I know that Brady . . ." Philip suddenly felt discontented with his own dialogue. Trudging forward with his half spoken thought, Philip concluded, "Brady loves you. That means he'll forgive you for some accidental kiss."
"You have no idea how much I hope you're right."
Approaching Chloe as she stood in front of his window, Philip pulled her into a friendly hug. Pushing aside the memories of when his arms belonged around Chloe's body, Philip said, "It'll be okay. I know Brady. Even if he does get mad at first, he will get over it. I promise."
Outside the Kiriakis mansion, Brady watched the embrace with growing resentment. When he had gotten home that afternoon, the answering machine had been blinking to signal a new message.
Tossing his keys onto the counter, Brady had indifferently hit the play button. The room had been immediately filled with the sound of Chloe's voice. She simply stated that she was going to a friend's house after school and that she would have him drive her home later that evening.
Brady's instinctual displeasure had diminished when he saw Shawn pull into the driveway next door - alone. That left a minimal number of options. Brady highly doubted Chloe was at Jason Master's home and a quick call to the Wesley home proved Zach was not even home.
Picking up his keys once more, Brady had left the house to pay his Uncle Philip a visit.
Now, he stood under Philip's window and watched the younger man stroke Chloe's long, dark hair.
And, that was the last straw.
Brady had quickly grown weary of playing the jealousy card. After all, he considered that to be much more Philip's style. As long as he was able to keep his own heart guarded, Brady fully intended to confront Chloe. If she wanted to romance both Shawn and Philip, Brady would not stand in her way - at least, not directly
Yet, before Brady could move from his spot below the window, he was knocked to the ground by a man running around the corner of the house. Though he could only catch a glimpse of the fleeing man, Brady was nearly certain it was one of his grandfather's employees.
Seconds later, Victor and Nico also rounded the corner. The shouts of other Kiriakis employees could be heard in the distance.
A glance back up at the window proved that the commotion had captured Philip and Chloe's attention. While Chloe's curious gaze lingered on Brady as he rose to his feet, Philip watched in horror as the garage doors opened. Almost instantly, Philip's prized Firebird roared down the driveway and sped onto the street.
Philip pounded his fist against the window pane and watched the vehicle disappear around a corner. With helpless fury, he shouted, "That's my car!"
~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~
The cold drear of November seemed a world away from Zach and Belle as they traveled down the scenic road near Salem's more affluent neighborhoods.
His grip tightening around the steering wheel, Zach peevishly stated, "You can't blame me for a road detour."
"No, but I can blame you for a lot of other things." In a clearly defensive move, Belle crossed her arms over her chest. When Zach had forcefully insisted that he drive her home, Belle had expected a tense car ride. She had not expected verbal warfare.
"And, what's that suppose to mean?"
"I agreed to let you drive me home. You never said anything about dragging me all over town to run errands." Belle knew that she sounded like a pouting child, but she couldn't stop herself. "It's already getting dark outside, and now it's going to take an extra fifteen minutes for me to get home because of that road being closed."
"Which, again, is not my fault. Unless, of course, you want to blame me for the possible gas leak on Roosevelt Street."
Belle shook her head with frustration. Zach's biting sarcasm was the last thing she needed. The handsome young man had a way of cutting people not only with his words but also with the tone he used to deliver them.
"You should have just taken me straight home."
"Well, it's a little too late for that, now isn't it? Besides, you'll be safe and sound with your mommy and daddy in ten or fifteen minutes."
In an attempt to lash out at her companion, Belle thoughtlessly uttered, "Don't blame me because I have two parents who love me and worry about me. It's not my fault your parents sent you away."
"And, don't you dare blame me for your little problems with Shawn," retorted Zach. In a mocking tone he added, "It's not my fault you kissed me back in that gazebo."
"That was a mistake." Belle glared at Zach as he navigated the car along the hillside road. "It never should have happened."
Belle was nearly certain that Zach rolled his eyes before responding, "Then why did it happen?"
Her voice raising to an unnecessary volume, Belle answered, "I told you it was a mistake. I love Shawn. I love him! You are just some jerk who's screwing my life up! You've done nothing but cause problems since you got to Salem. I wish I'd never met you."
Belle watched with morbid fascination as Zach's facial expression transformed from seething anger to genuine fear. Like the falling rain, time began to freeze. Belle's eyes followed Zach's gaze until she saw a familiar sports car crossing over into their lane.
Belle faintly heard Zach scream a warning as his right hand stretched across the car and checked the security of her seatbelt. Only seconds later, the Mustang was hit head-on by the late model Firebird.
The impact sent the classic Mustang down the jagged hillside.
~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~
Belle opened her mouth to scream, but as her lips parted, all that emerged was a gargled cry. It was with trembling hands that she gingerly reached out to touch her companion as he hung suspended by the tattered, blood- soaked seatbelt.
In a harsh whisper, the young beauty begged, "Zach . . . Zach . . . wake- up." Belle's voice cracked as her terror escalated. "Zach . . . Oh, god . . . please wake-up . . . Za-"
Belle harshly cut short her pleas when her eyes fell upon the ghastly sight just past her friend. Where just minutes before had been a smooth glass window was now a shattered web stained with blood and dark locks of hair.
A piercing scream scarred the chilly evening air as Belle instinctively jerked away from the injured driver. Hurriedly fumbling with her own safety belt, Belle managed to free herself from its grip. In her state of fear and shock, she hardly noticed the mild pain as she slipped onto the car's roof that was now below her.
Her breaths came in broken gasps as her eyes darted around the car in search of an escape. Her frightened gaze came to rest on the handle used to roll down the Mustang's passenger window. When the petite young woman first tried to turn the metal with her shaking hands, it refused to budge.
After taking a quick glance at her motionless friend, Belle could feel a shower of tears trickle down her face. Though she was unable to keep herself from crying, Belle forced herself to not panic. Readjusting her fingers, Belle tried once more to move the metal. After what felt like an eternity of struggling, her labors were rewarded.
Belle carefully slid herself out the window. Once she dragged her hurting legs onto the cold ground, she dared to look at Zach once more. A barrage of tears began to fall from Belle's eyes.
Never had she seen so much blood. Zach's face was drained of color, barring the deep red that seeped from the gashes on his head. Still, he did not move.
Fighting against the sobs that threatened to take control of her body, Belle began to scream for help. Her arms shook with both pain and fear as she tried to push herself off the ground.
The blonde teen repeatedly stumbled as she climbed up the steep embankment. With each fall to the rocky ground, her hysteria worsened.
Belle's screams for help became distorted cries as she neared the roadside. She paid no attention to the blood on her palms as she took hold of the sharp rocks and used them to pull herself back up to the road.
The combination of shock and the icy rain led Belle's body to shake uncontrollably. She was unsure how much time had passed since the car had slammed into the trees, but she realized each minute that passed was one that may have already been stolen from Zach.
With unsure steps, Belle began to stumble along the pavement. After she had taken a mere eight steps, Brady's jeep came to a stop directly in front of her. Almost immediately, two police cars emerged on the scene.
Brady jumped out of the jeep and ran toward his baby sister. Belle's trembling body collapsed in his arms as Philip and Chloe appeared behind him.
Wiping a streak of blood away from Belle's right eye, Brady softly demanded, "Belle, what happened? Are you in pain?"
As though she was seeing Brady for the first time, Belle dazedly whispered, "I think he's dead." Sobs racking her body once more, Belle weakly cried, "Oh, god. I think he's dead."
Nodding toward the living room, Philip explained in a whisper, "One of the servants has been stealing Nicole's jewelry and some of the silverware. I guess my dad finally figured out who it was."
Chloe quickly stole a glance toward the source of the raised voices before accompanying Philip upstairs. Once the duo reached Philip's bedroom, each released a sigh of relief. Neither relished witnessing the wrath of Victor Kiriakis.
As Philip busied himself with unloading his backpack and leafing through his mail, Chloe silently observed her surroundings. It was the first time she had been in Philip's bedroom since they had broken up, and she was curious to see what changes Philip had made to his living space.
An indefinable emotion grasped Chloe when her gaze fell upon Philip's nightstand. Where once had sat a framed photograph of her and Philip at the Last Blast Dance was now an empty photo frame.
Across the room, Philip's dresser lay barren. Less than six months earlier, it had been cluttered with photographs of Philip with Chloe and arbitrary objects that were significant to them as a couple.
Tearing Chloe from her observations, Philip jovially held up an envelope and stated, "Looks like I got a letter from my sister Billie."
Chloe smiled, albeit weakly. As Philip opened the envelope and pulled out a few sheets of paper, Chloe returned to surveying his bedroom. Almost to herself, the brunette whispered, "A lot has changed in the past year."
Philip looked up from Billie's letter. "Yeah," he cautiously answered. "I suppose it has." He suddenly felt as if his correspondences could be put on hold for a few hours. Once he had stuffed the letter back into the envelope, Philip hesitantly asked, "Are you okay?"
"I guess I've just got a lot to think about."
There was an aloofness in Chloe's voice that unnerved Philip. Though he doubted she would want to share her true problems, Philip was sure that Chloe had more worries than an accidental kiss with Shawn Brady. "You know I'm here if you need to talk.".
A rather hopeful smile conquered Chloe's face. "So, this is what it's like to be your friend . . . I'm lucky to have you in my life, Philip."
It quickly became Philip's turn to be ill at ease. His gaze traveled around his bedroom, focusing on everything but Chloe. He had mentally accepted Chloe as a friend long ago. Yet, the wound from the emotional transition was still tender.
Opting to change the course of the discussion, Philip asked, "Have you and Shawn talked about the kiss?"
"Not really. We've been avoiding each other all week."
Philip nodded his understanding. Posing a more difficult question, he prodded, "What about Brady? When are you going to talk to him about it?"
For a brief moment, Philip was certain that he saw guilt wash across Chloe's face. Yet, if it had been there, it was quickly masked.
"Actually, I'm not sure if I should even bother to tell Brady - or Belle." As though she felt the need to justify her lack of intended action, Chloe added, "After all, it was just a misunderstanding."
"Yeah, but if you don't tell Brady and Belle, it becomes a secret."
The logic behind Philip's words struck Chloe with surprising force. She wondered if such maturity and insight were an aspect of Philip that had been hidden or if he had finally relinquished his last holds on boyhood. If the latter was the case, Chloe was immensely curious what could have happened to jolt Philip into a more adult-like mindset.
"Chloe, I know that Brady . . ." Philip suddenly felt discontented with his own dialogue. Trudging forward with his half spoken thought, Philip concluded, "Brady loves you. That means he'll forgive you for some accidental kiss."
"You have no idea how much I hope you're right."
Approaching Chloe as she stood in front of his window, Philip pulled her into a friendly hug. Pushing aside the memories of when his arms belonged around Chloe's body, Philip said, "It'll be okay. I know Brady. Even if he does get mad at first, he will get over it. I promise."
Outside the Kiriakis mansion, Brady watched the embrace with growing resentment. When he had gotten home that afternoon, the answering machine had been blinking to signal a new message.
Tossing his keys onto the counter, Brady had indifferently hit the play button. The room had been immediately filled with the sound of Chloe's voice. She simply stated that she was going to a friend's house after school and that she would have him drive her home later that evening.
Brady's instinctual displeasure had diminished when he saw Shawn pull into the driveway next door - alone. That left a minimal number of options. Brady highly doubted Chloe was at Jason Master's home and a quick call to the Wesley home proved Zach was not even home.
Picking up his keys once more, Brady had left the house to pay his Uncle Philip a visit.
Now, he stood under Philip's window and watched the younger man stroke Chloe's long, dark hair.
And, that was the last straw.
Brady had quickly grown weary of playing the jealousy card. After all, he considered that to be much more Philip's style. As long as he was able to keep his own heart guarded, Brady fully intended to confront Chloe. If she wanted to romance both Shawn and Philip, Brady would not stand in her way - at least, not directly
Yet, before Brady could move from his spot below the window, he was knocked to the ground by a man running around the corner of the house. Though he could only catch a glimpse of the fleeing man, Brady was nearly certain it was one of his grandfather's employees.
Seconds later, Victor and Nico also rounded the corner. The shouts of other Kiriakis employees could be heard in the distance.
A glance back up at the window proved that the commotion had captured Philip and Chloe's attention. While Chloe's curious gaze lingered on Brady as he rose to his feet, Philip watched in horror as the garage doors opened. Almost instantly, Philip's prized Firebird roared down the driveway and sped onto the street.
Philip pounded his fist against the window pane and watched the vehicle disappear around a corner. With helpless fury, he shouted, "That's my car!"
~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~
The cold drear of November seemed a world away from Zach and Belle as they traveled down the scenic road near Salem's more affluent neighborhoods.
His grip tightening around the steering wheel, Zach peevishly stated, "You can't blame me for a road detour."
"No, but I can blame you for a lot of other things." In a clearly defensive move, Belle crossed her arms over her chest. When Zach had forcefully insisted that he drive her home, Belle had expected a tense car ride. She had not expected verbal warfare.
"And, what's that suppose to mean?"
"I agreed to let you drive me home. You never said anything about dragging me all over town to run errands." Belle knew that she sounded like a pouting child, but she couldn't stop herself. "It's already getting dark outside, and now it's going to take an extra fifteen minutes for me to get home because of that road being closed."
"Which, again, is not my fault. Unless, of course, you want to blame me for the possible gas leak on Roosevelt Street."
Belle shook her head with frustration. Zach's biting sarcasm was the last thing she needed. The handsome young man had a way of cutting people not only with his words but also with the tone he used to deliver them.
"You should have just taken me straight home."
"Well, it's a little too late for that, now isn't it? Besides, you'll be safe and sound with your mommy and daddy in ten or fifteen minutes."
In an attempt to lash out at her companion, Belle thoughtlessly uttered, "Don't blame me because I have two parents who love me and worry about me. It's not my fault your parents sent you away."
"And, don't you dare blame me for your little problems with Shawn," retorted Zach. In a mocking tone he added, "It's not my fault you kissed me back in that gazebo."
"That was a mistake." Belle glared at Zach as he navigated the car along the hillside road. "It never should have happened."
Belle was nearly certain that Zach rolled his eyes before responding, "Then why did it happen?"
Her voice raising to an unnecessary volume, Belle answered, "I told you it was a mistake. I love Shawn. I love him! You are just some jerk who's screwing my life up! You've done nothing but cause problems since you got to Salem. I wish I'd never met you."
Belle watched with morbid fascination as Zach's facial expression transformed from seething anger to genuine fear. Like the falling rain, time began to freeze. Belle's eyes followed Zach's gaze until she saw a familiar sports car crossing over into their lane.
Belle faintly heard Zach scream a warning as his right hand stretched across the car and checked the security of her seatbelt. Only seconds later, the Mustang was hit head-on by the late model Firebird.
The impact sent the classic Mustang down the jagged hillside.
~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~
Belle opened her mouth to scream, but as her lips parted, all that emerged was a gargled cry. It was with trembling hands that she gingerly reached out to touch her companion as he hung suspended by the tattered, blood- soaked seatbelt.
In a harsh whisper, the young beauty begged, "Zach . . . Zach . . . wake- up." Belle's voice cracked as her terror escalated. "Zach . . . Oh, god . . . please wake-up . . . Za-"
Belle harshly cut short her pleas when her eyes fell upon the ghastly sight just past her friend. Where just minutes before had been a smooth glass window was now a shattered web stained with blood and dark locks of hair.
A piercing scream scarred the chilly evening air as Belle instinctively jerked away from the injured driver. Hurriedly fumbling with her own safety belt, Belle managed to free herself from its grip. In her state of fear and shock, she hardly noticed the mild pain as she slipped onto the car's roof that was now below her.
Her breaths came in broken gasps as her eyes darted around the car in search of an escape. Her frightened gaze came to rest on the handle used to roll down the Mustang's passenger window. When the petite young woman first tried to turn the metal with her shaking hands, it refused to budge.
After taking a quick glance at her motionless friend, Belle could feel a shower of tears trickle down her face. Though she was unable to keep herself from crying, Belle forced herself to not panic. Readjusting her fingers, Belle tried once more to move the metal. After what felt like an eternity of struggling, her labors were rewarded.
Belle carefully slid herself out the window. Once she dragged her hurting legs onto the cold ground, she dared to look at Zach once more. A barrage of tears began to fall from Belle's eyes.
Never had she seen so much blood. Zach's face was drained of color, barring the deep red that seeped from the gashes on his head. Still, he did not move.
Fighting against the sobs that threatened to take control of her body, Belle began to scream for help. Her arms shook with both pain and fear as she tried to push herself off the ground.
The blonde teen repeatedly stumbled as she climbed up the steep embankment. With each fall to the rocky ground, her hysteria worsened.
Belle's screams for help became distorted cries as she neared the roadside. She paid no attention to the blood on her palms as she took hold of the sharp rocks and used them to pull herself back up to the road.
The combination of shock and the icy rain led Belle's body to shake uncontrollably. She was unsure how much time had passed since the car had slammed into the trees, but she realized each minute that passed was one that may have already been stolen from Zach.
With unsure steps, Belle began to stumble along the pavement. After she had taken a mere eight steps, Brady's jeep came to a stop directly in front of her. Almost immediately, two police cars emerged on the scene.
Brady jumped out of the jeep and ran toward his baby sister. Belle's trembling body collapsed in his arms as Philip and Chloe appeared behind him.
Wiping a streak of blood away from Belle's right eye, Brady softly demanded, "Belle, what happened? Are you in pain?"
As though she was seeing Brady for the first time, Belle dazedly whispered, "I think he's dead." Sobs racking her body once more, Belle weakly cried, "Oh, god. I think he's dead."