We arrived at Angela's apartment building. I led her up the stairs, and into her kitchen, where I sat her down.
"Take this, and I'll find you some pajamas." I left her at the kitchen table with an aspirin and a glass of water, and ventured into her bedroom.
I dug through the drawers, until I finally found a night shirt. As I was leaving, I spotted an open notebook on her desk. Curiosity got the better of me, and I set the clothes on the bed, and picked up the notebook.
I didn't get a chance to read anything, though, before the door slammed, startling me. I jumped. Angela was in the doorway, glaring at me.
"Sorry… I didn't read it, I swear." I dropped it, and picked up the clothes. "Here are your pajamas." I thrust them at her, but she didn't react. I was suddenly struck by the sharpness and alertness in her eyes. "Wait… aren't you drunk?"
"No," she spat out. "I couldn't think of any other way to get Jesse to leave you alone." I was beyond confused. I was flat-out perplexed.
"W-what do you mean?" I asked timidly. She appeared not to hear, and only began walking towards me slowly.
"Your perfect Jesse. You two are the perfect couple. Young, smart, beautiful, 'meant for each other.'" They were Mara's words echoing from earlier this evening, but Angela said them differently. Not in an adoring, happy tone, but in a jealous, burning, acidic one.
"Angela? Is this about the bridesmaid thing? Because if it bothers you so much, you could have just talked to me…" Angela had advanced, and I backed into the dresser. My brain couldn't function. I didn't know what was happening, or what to do. I just watched her in bewilderment.
"This isn't about the bridesmaid thing!" She snapped. "This is about Mara. And Krystal. And Cate. And Lisa. And Beth. You're all perfect aren't you? With your perfect looks and your perfect grades and your perfect fucking boyfriends." With that, I suddenly noticed her hand.
And the knife that was in it.
Fear seized my heart. I was pinned in the corner of a 6th floor room, with a knife-wielding psycho blocking the only exit.
"Angela, what are you doing?" I cried. Oh God, why did I suddenly need to be Miss Responsible Don't-Drink-And-Drive? Why couldn't I have brought Jesse with me? Why didn't I see that it was Angela the whole time? Now, because of my stupid blindness, I was going to be her next victim.
I was going to die. And I was so grossly unprepared. What was the last thing exchanged between Jesse and I? Not sweet, tender, "I love yous."
"Hurry up."
That was the last thing we had said to each other.
I groped blindly for something—anything—to protect me. So far I had come up with a bra and a perfume bottle.
"You know," she said, almost thoughtfully as she studied the blade. "I thought I wouldn't have to kill you." I whimpered. "You never tried to take Aaron from me." I gaped.
"Aaron?"
"Yes. Aaron." She paused. "I am in love with him, you know that?" I gulped. "I always have. And I thought he loved me to. He slept with me." My eyes widened. I didn't know that. "But then he acted like he didn't know me. And dated all of my friends. Except for you." I dimly heard something outside of the room, downstairs, something. A neighbor. God, I wanted to scream so badly, but I couldn't find my voice. All I could do was stare at the knife. The long, silver, sharp blade.
"Angela, you should have told us you felt that way," I croaked. "I'm sure they wouldn't have"
"They all knew!" She barked. "I told them. They were all, 'I'm sorry, Angela, but I can't help it! Besides, friends are more important than boys, right?'" She took in a deep, shuddering breath. "Krystal was the worst. She didn't even pretend to care about my feelings. She just brushed me off. Didn't care at all. Which is why I doused her with gasoline and set her on fire… nothing less than torture for her." I started to cry. I'm not the crying type, but everything was hitting me with the force of a Mack truck.
"I didn't want to kill Beth either, she's my sister, you know?" She continued, "But then she pissed… me…off…" With that, she took a picture of Beth and Angela from the wall, and hurled it across the room. It slammed against the wall half a foot from my face, the glass shattering. One stray cut my arm, and I winced. "I wasn't going to kill her for that. Just teach her a lesson. But then she had to figure everything out, and confront me." Oh my God. Beth knew? Suddenly, I remembered. Beth's phone call. "I need to tell you something," she had said. Her voice sounded funny.
All of a sudden, I realized what that edge to her voice was. Fear. God, if I had just gone over there when she asked, instead of working on that damn project, maybe she would still be alive. Or maybe we'd both be dead.
I guess that's happening anyway, though.
"But, Angela, why me?" I asked, praying that someone would come to investigate the crash from when she threw the picture. "I never did anything with Aaron."
"No. But you're just so goddamn perfect. So nice, and funny, and sweet. Everyone likes you. And now you're getting married? That's all I've ever wanted to do. Get married to the person I love." She was finally only a few inches from my face. I stopped breathing. "You thought you were so nice to me, didn't you? Even though everyone else hated me. You pitied me. Ugly, fat, stupid me. You never liked me. It was all a show, wasn't it? I was your charity case." I shook my head vehemently.
"No, Angela, it wasn't like that, really." She scoffed.
"Don't lie." She readjusted the grip on the knife. "Say hello to my sister for me." Suddenly, she lunged at me. I ducked, and tried to get away, but she grabbed the back of my dress, which ripped.
I grabbed her arm, the one that had the knife, and tried to wrestle it away from her, but she maneuvered her wrist, and cut my hand. On instinct, I let go and pulled my bleeding arm close to me. In that split second of vulnerability, I felt a searing pain in my stomach, followed quickly by a second rush of hurt. I cried out, and stumbled. I clutched my stomach, and my hands felt wet. I began feeling dizzy, and fell to the ground. God, it was pain like I had never felt it. I started to laugh, but it hurt so much worse. My stomach was on fire. Angela's face hovered over me.
"Goodbye, Suze," she said, and she was about to plunge the knife in again, when I heard another voice.
Jesse's voice.
He knocked Angela to the floor and the knife went spinning away. I heard the sounds of a fight, though I couldn't see anything. Jesse must have been trying to get Angela away. Thank you, Jesse, I wanted to say, but it's too late. Darkness faded in and out as I lay there, bleeding.
Suddenly, Jesse's face loomed above mine, white and shaking.
"Susannah!" He whispered, stroking my hair. Tears began streaming down his face. He reached away for a second, but then I felt a soft pressure against my stomach. He was trying to stop the bleeding.
"Jesse," I whispered hoarsely. He cupped my face with his free hand.
"Oh, Querida," he cried. "Susannah, hold on… don't leave me."
"Jesse…" I said again. His face faded out. I could barely see his perfection. "I love you."
And then I knew no more.
………………………………………..
Sorry it was sort of short. But hey. I got it out to you, didn't I? In less than 24 hours. Now, review, my darlings.