Hey Dudes!!

Look! I'm updating two days early!! YAY!! Aren't we all proud of Jessie??

Lol. I actually had this ready awhile ago, but the stupid site was down, so yeah, I couldn't do much about it.

I'm actually updating this during school, because I couldn't freakin' wait anymore.

Thanks to all who reviewed, and...

This chapter is actually rather sad. I think you're gonna see that a lot of the stuff in this story is pretty sad, considering the title, but yeah.

I wrote it when I was in a depression during the summer.

::sighs::

But I'm back to normal now!!

And don't worry, it'll have a pretty good ending in the sequel. So DON'T GIVE UP ON ME!!!

Disclaimer: I'm much too busy to have to deal with lawsuits right now, so why don't we just NOT sue me, and we'll call it even?


Chapter seven: If I Were to Let You Go

The atmosphere of the altar was damp, and cold, and if the candles could sense the melancholy air that was now upon them.

Somewhere far away, I could hear footsteps, coming closer and closer, echoing in the empty chapel.

Sighing, I collected myself, and got ready to dematerialize. If this person was going to pray here, they would not benefit from my presence.

The footsteps came to a sudden stop.

"Jesse." It was the father.

He came over and put a hand on my shoulder in what I suppose he thought was a loving gesture, but it only served to dishearten me.

"I thought I'd find you here. We were supposed to meet an hour ago, what happened?"

I didn't answer him, only shrugged the hand off my shoulder.

The words mi madre had once uttered drifted into my head. "We're strong people, Jesse. We don't cry about our problems."

Then it was about a skinned knee. Now it was about a broken heart.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"I'm not sure."

"And yet…" he said, his voice filled with light bemusement, "You knew that it would."

"Yes."

"But you did nothing to stop it."

"No."

He was silent for a while, as if pondering his next move. He could break my spirit with just a few words, or he could save it.

"What will you do now?"

I sighed. What else was there?

"Let her go."

SHIT! Shoving Jeremy off me, I turned to Jesse. He was sitting on the window seat with his arms crossed, the scar on his right eyebrow extremely white, a dark look in his eyes as the furniture shaking furiously.

He gave me one last look before he turned away. Just the one look, overflodded with somany emotions that I felt instantly sick to my stomach. Then all I saw was the ceiling as I lost sight of him completely, trying desperately to blink back my tears.

"Suze, you all right?" Jeremy said thickly, "Did I do something wrong?"

Thinking of something quick, I covered my mouth and started imitating coughs. "No, I think I'm going to be sick," I said between the coughs. Then I rushed over to the bathroom---with one of my hands behind my back, in a desperate attempt to hold my bra strap together---and slammed the door. Breathing heavily, my thoughts in a jumble. Damn it! Why is it that Jesse always has to show up when I'm making out???

"Suze! Suze, you okay? You want me to call your dad?" Jeremy asked through the door, sounding rather concerned. He should be. Concerned for his life, that is; I could hear the pictures on the walls shaking violently. How is it that he never noticed that?

"No, I'm all right," I quickly replied. By the way, it's step-dad, I added in my head. Then I started imitating retching sounds in an attempt to scare Jeremy away. No such luck.

"Suze, are you sure you're okay? I mean, your brothers are right next-door," he said kinda frantically.

"No, I think I'm fine, just leave me," I said between the vomiting sounds. I could tell that he wanted to leave. I mean who would want a girlfriend vomiting in her toilet after a hot and steamy session of kissing? Not me.

Jeremy began muttering a couple of curses, the entire house was shaking now, at this rate; the windows were going to explode. "Suze, you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just leave," I said, grounding my teeth. The quaking stopped abruptly. I heard the door slam shut, and breathed a sigh of relief. I would never live this down at school tomorrow. Cautiously, I opened the bathroom door. Jesse was nowhere to be seen. Sighing of relief, I grabbed a pillow from the window seat, pressed it to my face, letting out a silent scream.

That look. I would never be able to get that look out of my head. I hated that look, but not because of how angry it made me feel. I hated that look because it made me hate me.

Tossing the pillow aside, I fell back on the bed, numb. I guess I should've been crying, but it happened that I'd cried so many times in the past three months, I was at a loss of tears to shed.

All that was left was an empty void, lying there on my bed, staring at the ceiling through my pink lace canopy.
….

I went to my grave today.

I think I might have stood there for hours, gaping down at the chunk of marble as it stood, erect from the ground, staring back at me in a manner that made me almost yearn to cry.

The daffodils that grew around them had lost their fragrance, and instead the entire cemetery seemed to be engulfed in an impenetrable fog.

She had told me, whilst standing here next to this grave, the words carved into my gravestone our tacit witnesses,

Here lies Hector 'Jesse' de Silva, 1830-1850, beloved brother, son, and friend.

She had told me, pleaded with me, she had insisted that I was all that she wanted.

But those words, the ones that caused my heart to experience such palpitations, were no longer true. I could not be all she wanted, all she needed, and I doubt I ever was. She had always been too far out of my reach.

Instead I had always known, somewhere, in the back of my mind that I would never be enough for her. What could a dead rancher from the 1800's possibly have to offer that this boy could not?

Nothing. I had nothing, no family, no money, I couldn't take her to see those picture-shows she was always talking about, I couldn't buy her dinner, and I couldn't meet her friends and family.

I couldn't ask her to marry me.

And all of a sudden, and so abruptly that it hit me like shards of glass, I felt cold. Not because it was chilly, for in fact, it'd been 150 years since I'd responded to the weather, but because in a way, I was dying all over again.

It had finally caught up to me, my feelings for Susannah, so suddenly it felt as if my chest were about to burst. I had seen the way they were kissing, that boy and my supposedly 'heartbroken' Susannah. And earlier that day, I had seen how happy he made her. And that was when I knew, that I could never give her that kind of happiness.

Because I was dead. Such things eluded me. And standing there before my gravestone, further proof of the state I was in, I felt the sudden urge to smash it, albeit I knew that it wouldn't change a thing. Because in the end, I would still be as I am now, and Susannah and I could never be together. All those things the priest and her father had told me, they're completely right. I had to let her go, I had to give her a normal life.

I stood there looking at my grave for what must have been hours, because when I was ready to leave, the sun was just rising above the horizon, and I had already decided what I had to do.


Sad, I know.

Don't worry. He'll never REALLY leave.

Chapter eight will be up sometime after Thanksgiving, I had already edited it, but it got messed up when I went to dance, since I didn't save my stupid files. ::pouts::

Here's a bit of a preview:

Could've Been.

I was getting up when I saw her. Looking, like always radiant, even with the somber expression on her face. I turned my head, unable to look at her, and pretended not to see her. So that she would pass away.

But she didn't.

She caught my sleeve just as I was about to dematerialize and said, "Jesse."

::coughs::

So yeah, Review me.

And WISH ME LUCK!!!

My piano exam's tomorrow.

dun, dun, DUN.