Thanks to all of you all who've reviewed, and for the comments, suggestions and guesswork that you've given. I want to say that I'm keeping the chapters short on purpose 'cause I think this kinda writing is fairly heavy to get through, and if I keep it longer, y'all are just going to get sick of it. Therefore, I'm trying to go for smaller chapters with quicker updates. But, if you don't like that, feel free to mention it in a review. And, since there aren't that many reviews, I can write a little reply to anyone who's reviewed. Like in the next few lines:

EE's Skysong: Well, I just get started writing. For me, it's all about getting down to it, and then I can usually manage at least a thousand words at any given time. But I might not write anything for days, even weeks, because of the non-inclination to start.

Thegambit23: Nope, you didn't miss a thing. If you're looking for clues though, I'm not going to point any out.

MeWhoExactlyWhat: Thanks. It's the first time I've written something where I'm giving so much emphasis to thoughts. It's quite fun writing on, really.

Chica: RAFO (Read and find out.)

DemonicGambit: And so you shall. . . But not just yet.

Ishy: Will you EVER find out? Yeah, I hope so, unless something happens to me, in which case, I want YOU to continue with the story. No, seriously, just think of yourself as my adjutant, or back-up.

BananaPanda: Yeah, I'm just trying something new (for me) here. Hope you'll continue to like it.

Abril: Y'know, after feeling the strong anti-Belle sentiment from all directions, I've begun to quite dislike her myself. I can't promise you a resolution to the issue that you'll like, but I hope you'll at least be satisfied with it.

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Everyone done? Okay, good, now we continue to chapter four.

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Nausea.

Pain.

Hurt.

She's been locked in her room since she came back, since she found out. She needs to be alone, away from all the rest of the world, away, even from him.

How? How could he hide something like this from her? And then, make her take his secrets from him like that. How could he not tell her himself? And now, like a thunderbolt, she's been struck, struck by him.

Nothing's making sense. Her world's upside-down. Afternoon passed in a haze, not knowing, not caring. Nothing's important anymore.

Nothing.

She lies on her bed, staring somewhere, blank. Her pillow is still wet, still stained with tears. Her paint is smudged; her veneer is about to crack and fall away.

She's dreading what might be underneath.

Inadvertently, she makes a sound. Like a scream, but sort of silent, but then she quickly closes her mouth, afraid that she might break.

And what will happen then? What happens after the dam has burst?

She doesn't want to know. She doesn't want to even think about what might happen if she gives in to her grief.

And nothing's important anymore. She hasn't said a word since she got back, she hasn't eaten. All she can remember doing is laying on her bed, and somehow, time has passed. Somehow, even though she can't remember what she was thinking about, even though it feels like it's only been a little while since they parted.

And yet, the clock turns on without remorse.

She raises her head, haggard, bleary. She checks the time, realizes that it's nearly dusk. She met him at dawn, she found out so many, many hours ago. But she didn't do anything about it.

But what could she do?

She stares off again, unaware that the fading light shining on her face creates strange effects, unaware that there are lines on her face that divide it, in a battlefield of light and shadow. But even if she did know, she would not care. She's muting everything, fading it all out, pushing it all away.

And as she lies, there comes a knock on the door, a light gentle tapping. Non-invasive, politely asking her if all is well, like the previous ones, and, as she did before, she makes no reply. It doesn't seem to be worth the effort.

She can hear them call her name; she can hear the concern in their voices. But they know from previous experience that the best thing to do is leave her alone.

All alone.

She smiles slightly, bitterly, as a tear rolls down her cheek. She doesn't know what she wants, but a shoulder to cry on or a sympathetic ear would probably be good for her. Problem is, her attitude prevents people from coming near, and her walls prevent her from asking for sympathy.

And she continues to lie there, not really thinking anything at all, with no idea of what to do next, with a total lack of caring. She's all cried out, with silent tears, and though her feelings are still shuttered in, she can't find the energy or the will to release them.

She can't find the energy to do anything, actually.

But she wonders about him, where he will be now. He will have left town by now, probably, and he'll have taken the train. In fact, he might even have reached. He might be there, helpless, confused.

If only she could have gone with him.

If only.

Who knew a kiss could have so many dimensions, so many repercussions? If only they hadn't kissed, if only he had looked at her with regret right there, just looked at her and got up and walked away. She would never have known.

But what then?

Would she have spent the rest of her life wondering what had happened? Wondering how such a perfect love could have had such an abrupt ending? Or would she have carried on, found someone else?

She honestly did not know.

But now, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered, not anymore.

Outside, the sky had darkened, bringing the cloak of night overhead. The snow continued to fall, as it had done all day, and briefly, she wondered if he was warm where he was. Maybe he had remembered to wear something warm; maybe even the sweater she had knitted for him, even though one sleeve was too long. Even with that, he had liked it when she had given it to him, and his face had lit up like –

A great choking sob comes from somewhere deep inside her as she remembers. The memories aren't cold yet, and they stab her like needles in light of what has happened.

She has never been very happy, very open with those around her. She could never let her walls down to let others come inside, to let others see her for what she really was behind the mask, behind the façade. It took someone really special to see her as she was, not as she pretended to be, and with him, she was radiant in her personality. He made her come alive.

Slowly, she moves. Slowly, she gets up, moves to her dresser. Then, with careful deliberate movement, she removes her make-up, her protection. She removes all of it, and she looks at herself – at her actual face, not in the bleary routine of morning ritual, but objectively, dispassionately.

She does not like what she sees.

And then, finally, it breaks.

All her walls crumble, every façade is gone. There's no-one to pretend in front of, there's no-one there to see her. There is nothing restraining her anymore. All control is gone, and the dam breaks.

She picks up her clock, and she shatters her mirror with it. And then, she breaks down and cries. Not the silent tears she had cried in earlier, but true, uninhibited tears; and she doesn't care who hears her. It's too late for them to help her, it's too late to try, and nothing matters anymore. Finally, she can look at herself and realize what she is.

She is just a girl, like any other girl. She's not as different as she thought.

And right now, she's very lonely, and very scared.

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Err, I want you all to bear with me and the way I'm moving the story along, for just a few more chapters. I hope no-ones too bugged about the fact that I'm not giving away a lot. I just need to find the right words, that's all.

On the other hand, I want you to notice that everything's getting more real now, as opposed to the surreal feel of the previous chapters, where there was a sleepy feel, a romantic rendezvous and the like. In keeping with that, I've stripped the imagery down to a bare minimum in this chapter, but the whole thing still takes place inside the head, though. As for the direction later chapters take, well, keep reading, and find out.

A couple o' things before I finish off this little post-chapter gibberish: firstly, my updating is going to get screwed up big time in the next month, though I promise to try and write/ update as and when I can.

The other thing is, if you have an idea of what's going on, hazard a guess. If you don't have a clue, guess anyway. And then (shameless plug) read on and see how right you were. Go on. You know it's fun.