Where the River Flows Chapter 14: Hollow, a pokémon fanfic

'I can't believe it either. But somehow, in less than a month, I manage to update! Hopefully, this is a sign of a new leaf being turned over. Thanks to all you reviewers, and to a few people who have kept me going with their insistence that I write more (at times to the exclusion of wasteful pastimes, such as eating and sleeping )

I won't add any more, since anyone who has waited for a month to actually read the next installment doesn't want to sift through pages of rambling first.

So, hope you enjoy!

Oh, and please leave a quick review, even if you don't. I'd like to find out how I can improve.

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Where The River Flows - Chapter 13 - Hollow

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They've been too quiet, the three of them. Ever since we left the Cerulean Gym, no, even while we were there. I know I gave them a right chewing out, a deserved one too, but normally that wouldn't do this. This is the sort of silence I woke up to this morning, in the room I'm returning to now. I think that Cyndaquil was giving the two of them a bollocking of some sort back at the gym, but I was too wrapped up in conversation with Mistys' sisters to notice.

We talked a lot, in the few hours I was there. In the pool, at lunch, lounging in the back garden. The Sensational Sisters have grown up a lot in the years we've been away. I went there out of sheer desperation, under the pretence of wanting to showing my face and relax. Any thoughts of pretending went straight out of the window when, mid-way through our energetic water battle, Daisy grabbed me. Under the pretence of dunking, she told me I wasn't fooling anyone. She saw straight through me. Maybe I wasn't splashing with enough vigour, maybe my smile wasn't quite reaching my eyes.

Soon as the action stopped, and I'd told Pikachu to wait for her therapeutic battle, the three sisters all gave me looks that told me feigning ignorance was futile. So, we got into a close group, I guess the others sensed I didn't want to have to explain more than once.

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"Ashy-boy, what's up." The eldest sister, Daisy, being unusually direct. "You come here, leaving li'l sis holed up in your hotel room, with a face that even a clown wouldn't wear to a funeral."

"Yeah." Violet joins in. "I can get the bit 'bout you not stayin' here last night, fair to say us and li'l Misty have got things to work out. But there's no way you'd turn up here this mornin' unless you're in trouble. You didn't tell her you were comin' here, since she'd go nuts. But I never knew you to go off an' do something without lettin' her know first."

"She doesn't want to come here, and she won't want you to come here. But you did. Year ago, you'd never have gone off wanderin' without Misty, especially on the mornin' of an exam. So what's, like, goin' on?" Lily finishes, and all three of them fix me with a stare. I give them a winsome grin, and a shrug.

"So, I couldn't just be coming here for a bit of a swim, then?" The three exchange looks. And then, with perfect synchrony, they all look back at me and give me the same answer.

"Nope."

"There's the sea."

"And the river."

"And the public pool two blocks from here." I always wondered how they managed to even synchronise their unscripted lines.

"I guess you're not going to swallow that excuse." Lily frowns at me, and I can feel my stomach sink and my throat tighten. Looks like I'm not going to be able to dodge this.

"Look Ashy-baby, somethin' is up, somethin' to do with Misty. No point dancin' around it or avoidin' the subject." Her aqua eyes glare at me, all too reminiscent of the girl on my mind. Her usual flirty act is gone in a flash, she's suddenly all business as her voice takes on a sharp edge. "'Cause if all you're gonna do is dangle this in front of us and then say nothin', you may as well get the hell out of our pool." Every word is agonising, like a knife working it's way into my gut. I don't know, I don't know what to do. Should I say anything? Should I go? Is this, quite simply, a betrayal of my dearest friend?

"Hey, Lily, leave off him. He doesn't look too good." Violet must see the anguish as she tries to cool her younger sister off. But Lily isn't listening. She puts her hands on her hips and leans right forward, right into my downcast face, and almost screams at me.

"You're here ain't ya? So what'cha waitin' for! Spit it out!" I do try to spit it out. But I can't find any words, all that's there is a deep, horrible feeling welling up. Days and days of frustration, worry and guilt, all rising like a geyser, seeking release. I close my eyes tight as I can, and bite my lip, trying to hold it back.

"Lily, cool it." I realise that any efforts I make to keep control are lost as Daisys' arms pull me into her. My grip on emotion loosens…"

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It was at that point I heard shouting, and a feeling of static in the air. Turning my head, I saw Chikorita and Pikachu exchange their last words, before Chikorita hooked her adversary into the pool. In response, Pikachu decided to exact revenge with her electricity. While treading water in the same pool as myself and the three girls.

I saw red.

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"Pikachu! No!"

("Give it a rest, Ash, she deserved what she was going to get!") I growl at the answer and fly into my fastest stroke, all the time trying to calm myself down enough to speak. The few seconds it takes to cross the pool are just enough, but I know I'll have to keep this short; else I'll go over the edge. As I surface, I see Chikorita looking insufferably smug on the poolside, and my anger takes another jump.

"I know she did." God, it feels good to see the smile wiped off her face. Now for Pikachu. "But it doesn't excuse what you were going to do!" Any triumph creeping onto the yellow ones' face retreats instantly.

("Eh?") I furiously slash an arm out to point at the sisters still floating at the other end.

"For god's sake, there were other people in this pool! Don't you realise what could've happened to the girls if you let ten thousand volts of electricity loose in the water!" Pikachu suddenly looks mortified. I'm sad to realise I find some satisfaction at her regret.

("That's damn right!") I round on Chikorita, only clinging onto my anger with fingertips.

"And you can give it a rest. I heard what you said, and you know what, normally I wouldn't be bothered. But then you go and do what you just did, out of sheer spite. I'm ashamed of you. So ashamed that I don't want to look at you. Or hear any of your arguments." I quickly pull myself from the pool and turn so I can dive back towards the three waiting for me. For just a split-second I catch the eyes of the silent Cyndaquil, and I sense something change in them. But I don't pause; instead I hurl myself back into the water and go as far beneath the surface as my lungs will let me, until my chest burns. For a moment I relish it, enjoy the feeling of agony that I know I can make go away. Eventually, I re-surface and paddle the few yards left.

"What was all that about?" Violet murmurs, looking back past me.

"Nothing that hasn't happened before. Again and again….." My anger evaporates, leaving behind only despair.

"Oh, Ash." The blurry figure of Daisy once again draws me to her, and I feel the arms of Lily and Violet also bind me. I accept their embrace, and let myself finally share some of the load. As the first hot tears slip out, I can hear shouting. But it seems so far away, for once. For once, it's not for me to resolve.

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I think I must have cried on Daisys' shoulder for a good few minutes. I felt so guilty about going there, behind my red-haired partners' back. But I had to. They needed to know. And I, I needed to tell someone. I can only take so much. The next thing I remember, Lily has me wrapped up tight and Daisy floats over with a tired looking Cyndaquil on her belly. I gently detach myself from her with a whispered thank-you and a weak smile, and turn to face him.

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"You okay Quilly-baby?" The pink-haired girl intones, and despite the feeling of emptiness I almost laugh. Quilly-baby!

"Go ahead an' sleep Cyndaquil. Your Ashy-boy ain't goin' anywhere for a while." He looks at me with a silent question, and I think quickly.

"Well, do you want to go back into that atmosphere? Misty would smell the chlorine on me in a second and then I'd be in deep trouble." I shudder, partly at the thought of Misty putting two and two together, and partly at the deep twinge of betrayal. " She'll be off to the exam soon, she doesn't want me around before it, she made that perfectly clear last night while you were asleep. We'll head back when she's gone. I'm just hoping Hazel won't do anything stupid." He nods sleepily, and is snoring gently within seconds.

"So, I guess I'm staying for a while." Violet nods.

"Heck yeah. It' s pretty, like, clear that you gotta load on your chest, an' some of it is to do with li'l sis. That is why ya came here, after all." I try to smile in response, but fail badly.

"Yeah. But I didn't mean to treat you like handkerchiefs." She giggles lightly, and throws a slim arm around my shoulders.

"Ya didn't. We can't have our favourite li'l brother drowning 'cause there's no-one to throw him a rope. Misty relies on ya, Ash. Too much. That's how ya got into this state. Between them two who've just buggered off to sulk and li'l sisters' woes I'd say ya need all the help you can get." She gives quick squeeze before releasing me. "The three of us have all got a hand in Mistys' life, whether she likes it or not. Sure we've had our problems, an' maybe we're a part of whatever is happening now. But li'l sis needs to work things out too." She smiles gently at me. "I 'spose that's why we need to know all that's been going on."

"I'll tell you what I can." I answer, already feeling nervous about the story I'd have to relate. "But it's not going to be easy." The sisters smile at me, which eases the knot in my stomach a little. I know Misty has difficult memories of monstrous older siblings from back when she was a young girl, but same as she's grown up, they have too. I just hope that, in time, she can see this.

"You can take your time then. I'll go put the kettle on, a cup of tea makes things that little bit easier." Lily says, gliding over to the steps and pulling herself out. "Some towels would be good too."

"There are some fresh off the line in the airing cupboard." Daisy calls, receiving a wave in acknowledgement. As Lily goes to prepare drinks, I lie back, close my eyes and let the water carry me, really feeling relaxed for the first time in what seems like forever.

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It wasn't easy, giving the three of them a warts-and-all summary of the past few weeks, it dragged up a lot of old frustrations. But the sisters really have grown up. There was no giggling, no silly comments. And whenever the story got a bit much one of them would give me a squeeze and tell me it was okay. I felt like a real dope, getting so emotional, but they assured me it was alright. I'm glad I went, now. At least I know that it's not just me and Cyndaquil against the world.

("Ahhhhhh, that was nice.") My partner yawns, sounding cheerful. I'm not surprised, he got to sleep on Daisys' stomach, and thereafter he was treated to the best low-calorie cakes that the world has to offer by Lily while Violet gave him the sort of grooming that I didn't know she was capable of. Mind you, she does spend a lot of time on her own looks, so it's fair to call her a professional.

"It was. First hour of hedonism we've had in a while." I cast a glance over my shoulder to see the two trailing us, both avoiding everyones eyes, especially each others. "But what is going on with them?"

("I had a bit of a chat.") Cyndaquil replies, with a clear 'not now' message in his voice.

"Oh, okay." The automatic doors whirr open, ushering the two of us into the Pokemon Centre, and then slide shut behind us, demonstrating just how far behind Pikachu and Chikorita are lagging. I don't have the patience to wait for them, so I stroll over to the lift and punch the 'up' button. "So, right about now, Misty should be getting into her stride. I hope." He must catch the desperation in my voice, because he smiles.

("I'm sure she is. She's been working towards this for a long time.") I can't help thinking though, as I press the '6' and the lift doors slide closed, that it's not her knowledge that I doubt, it's her state of mind. The Misty I've loved for a long time wouldn't order me to leave her alone before the exam, she'd want cups of tea and biscuits on the hour, every hour. My deepest fear at the moment isn't about the exam, pass or fail, it doesn't matter to me. It's the possibility that I'll never have my Misty back again.

"I hope you're right. I really do." The metal doors slip open, ushering me out. The two of us fall into an easy amble again, making our way down the long corridor, towards the room.

("But in any case, we have to get her to go along and catch up with her sisters. They've changed so much from the three girls who thought it'd be funny to see if I'd 'sink or swim'. Maybe the fact I sank woke them up a bit.") I silently agree with Cyndaquil. The three of them have changed. I imagine the hard part will be getting the rouge-haired one to see this.

"Well, we'll see. Maybe, if I can get her to go within ten yards of the gym, we might make progress." I fish in my pocket for the card key, and slide it into the slot as Cyndaquil jumps up to pull the handle down. I smile at this, he's never really got the hang at opening doors, so he takes the chance to practise whenever he can. Mind you, I can see why it's not easy for someone his size.

("We're home!") He calls, flipping down to the floor as I nudge the door open and step into the room.

Silence.

The back of my neck prickles.

We hurry into the room to see it deserted, the only occupants three beds, two unmade. No Misty, that is to be expected. No Hazel... My stomach sinks into my boots. She wouldn't go out, would she?

"Maybe she's gone to the shop." I mutter, trying to convince myself that the worst hasn't happened.

("I know she's a thief, but to go without a wallet when there's money in it?") Cyndaquil answers, pulling a small black object from Hazels bag and just about confirming my worst fears. ("I think we know where she's gone, I could just see it in her face last night. She was getting ready. She knew what she was going to do.")

"And we don't even know where she used to live. DAMMIT!" I turn around and blindly throw a fist into the wall, my briefly clear mind once again steeped in shadow. Why has she gone? "I promised her no harm would come to her! I can't do that sat here! I hate to think of her going to see that, that..." Words fail me as I sink onto her bed, staring blankly at the discarded bag laying on the aquamarine carpet.

("Easy Ash.") Cyndaquil hops up onto the bed beside me. ("We don't know for sure she's gone there. And if she has -") He continues quickly, seeing my smouldering look. ("- She obviously wants to go alone. I know you promised, but all we can do is wait. She'll be back, I know it.") I feel my worry-induced anger slip away, leaving a cold and gnawing doubt.

"I hope you're right. I really do." He grins, probably because he thinks it'll ease my mind. It doesn't quite work, but I appreciate the effort.

("Of course I am. Now, let me tell you what happened at the Gym, since Chikorita and Pikachu haven't got keys, and they're not going to be knocking in a hurry...")

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The door is unlocked. And as I push it, it creaks open, letting an odd scent assault my nose. It's weird, not one I'm used to smelling 'round this place. It's got some kinda stench on it, but it also smells fresh, like summer wind. This place usually reeks of rubbish and alcohol. The small piece of corridor I see in front of me tells me nothing though, except that my old man hasn't bothered cleaning up the stains on the carpet yet.

"Hello?" My weak, frightened voice echoes through the air, but there is no answer. There isn't even a sound, other than my deep breathing rebounding off the walls. Well, this is it. I step into the flat, ignoring the chill shaking my bones, and my soggy socks. The few steps it takes to get to the turn in the hallway takes forever. I take another gasping breath, thankful that I can't wet myself twice, and look to my right. And gasp.

The place is empty.

Empty.

The dirty cream carpet is fully visible, the rubbish and empty bottles gone.

The windows can be seen through, and they are actually open, letting in that fresh smell of summer.

The settee that my father used to lay on, comatose and stinking of alcohol, has vanished, the only clue to its existence a grubby outline smeared on the wall it used to sit against.

As I drift through the room that I used to live in, only one thought sticks in my mind. What the hell is going on?

I approach my father's bedroom door half in fear, half in confusion. I don't want to see him laying there, snoring, face covered in stubble and enormous gut quivering with each breath. But at the same time, it would tell me that I haven't just walked in to the wrong flat.

As soon as I push open the door, I'm sure I must be dreaming. That horrible red carpet, the one that seemed to be the same shade as the blood that would run from my nose, is gone. So is the bed, and everything else in the room. All that is left are the wooden floorboards, and the windows, that are again open.

That's what really brings home to me how wrong things are.

My father used to hate, really hate, having the windows open. He always said it was because he got cold, and maybe in winter he did. But looking back, it's more like he didn't want to hear what went on in the real world. And maybe, just maybe, he didn't want them to hear what happened in here, especially when he made me cry, when he used to hit me and send me flying to the floor, onto the carpet that seemed to soak up and conceal the liquid leaking from my face.

I stagger out of the room, unable to work out what is happening. Somehow, I end up in the bathroom, which, like the rest of the flat, is unusually clean. I splash my face with cold water, like I did so many times in the past, only this time washing away shock rather than tears and blood. Finishing, I wipe my face with my sleeve, and take a look around. Again, too clean and empty. The bath looks pristine, it was never that clean when I used to sit in it. I fight down a shudder as the memory of my dad staring at me while I was sat in barely a foot of lukewarm water comes back. At first I thought it was innocuous, he used to come in under the pretence of needing to clean his teeth or use the loo, and I actually quite liked it both because I was too young to get just why, and it was one of the few times he was actually quite nice, it reminded me of the old him. But as time went on and I grew up a bit more, it soon got so blindingly obvious he had come in just to look at me. In the end he didn't even bother to make an excuse. And on a few occasions, he'd...

No, I don't want to think about this any more. I move quickly out of the room, leaving the unwelcome thought behind. It's so surreal, coming back here, and not walking into hell, but this other place I've not seen for many years. If it weren't for the smudged silhouette of the sagging settee and the number on the door, I'd swear blind I was in the wrong place. But even so, I must make sure. Letting my feet lead me, I wander into my own room, looking for proof.

And I find it.

There's nothing there. No bed. None of the posters I had pinned up as a little girl, then treasured when everything went shit. Even the carpet, with its sky blue and white pattern, doesn't prove anything to me. But then I go to the window. And I know.

I know this view. It's the one I looked at for so long. The one I'd watch whenever I could. The sea, the town, and, in the distance, the cape.

The view that kept me going through too many tough days and nights.

And now I have to ask a very important question. What the fuck is going on!

I almost run from the flat, slamming the front door behind me. It's too weird, like someone's decided to play some kinda joke on me and at some point they're gonna jump out from somewhere, laugh and tell me that my dad will be home in a minute.

"Hazel? Is that you?" I freeze at the top of the stairs, and see the lady from the flat below peering up at me from her doorway. I don't know what to make of this, I've only met her a couple of times and she's about as nice as anyone I've met for a long while, but why is she calling me out like this?

"Yeah." I answer warily, thinking of alternative ways out.

"I thought so dear." She opens her door wide, and gives me a small smile. "I've got a kettle boiling, do you want to join me for some tea?" I give the offer thought, remembering her kindness in the past, on the few occasions since she'd moved in a couple of years back that she'd ran into me.

"Well, maybe." She beams at me, and nods.

"Okay, the door will be open for you. Make sure you wipe your feet on the way in, I've just finished hoovering." With that she heads inside, and I walk down the stairs carefully, ignoring the slight footprints I leave behind, just wondering why I trust this young lady so much. Maybe it's because no one has ever looked at me so kindly since grandma died. But whatever the reason, I decide to take up her offer. Reaching her front door, I decide to take off my shoes and socks, leaving them sat on the 'welcome' mat, and nudge the door open. I still feel numb, but maybe this lady can shed some light on whatever has happened.

And if she can't, at least I get a cup of tea. And a biscuit or two, if I'm lucky.

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"Okay everybody, this entrance exam will be two hours long." The short, round man at the front of the hall with a name badge proclaiming him to be 'Bob' gives everyone a disarming grin, one I don't return. "The questions are all short answer, and there are a eighty of them, split into blocks of five per subject. I know many of you would prefer essay questions, but I've got to mark these things within a week and I'll be damned if I'm going to read a hundred spiels on how a Golduck can't get athletes foot." Most of the hall chuckles, and the man's eyes twinkle. "And if that comes up in this exam, don't tell anyone I've been giving you hints." He starts pacing towards the big clock sat high on the wall, and I find myself wondering if that hair is ginger or strawberry blonde. I think more the latter, but it's too short to tell easily.

"So, the rules. No talking at any point from now until the exam is done. You can't leave the exam in the first hour, or the last fifteen minutes. If you've had enough and want to run for the hills, you can do it between these times. But please, let myself or one of my assistants know first. The same if you need the toilet, or if any other emergency takes place. And if you do leave, do so quietly. Now, we will be taking the time from this clock - " He pauses and points up, the face now reading two minutes to one. I find myself wishing the second hand would stop ticking right now, so that I don't have to face this moment. "- so forget about your watches, what the big one says is the law. Any questions?" He casts his gaze around the hall, as I try to stop my hands from trembling.

"No? Well, the time now is One o'Clock, good luck everyone, you may turn over your papers and begin." With that I grab the paper sat in front of me, flip it over. and gaze at it blankly.

Okay, name, name, oh, Misty, yeah, Misty Williams. At least I've got that right. I take a moment to try and settle myself, and then turn over the first page. And freeze.

Why do Gyarados commonly encounter chronic neck and spinal problems?

I know this. I do.

But, but, I can't remember. I can't remember…..

Everything goes grey. My mind is swamped with fog. I can't find it, I know it's there, but where I don't have a clue.

Frantically, I leaf through the pages, with each one bringing a fresh wave of panic. Words and terms here and there are familiar, but nothing is making sense, nothing is coming together or clicking into place. The horror hits me like frigid water from a fire hose as I return to the start again and stare blankly at the first page, unable to make sense of a single question.

I'm going to fail.

I'm going to lose.

I'm nothing.

I put my head in my hands, now unable to even see the questions thanks to the helpless tears that blur my eyes. I can't do this. I was a fool to think I ever could. Now I get my just deserts.

I'm sorry dad.

I'm sorry….. Ash.

Sorry I couldn't be more than I am, more than the nothing I've turned out to be.

Sobbing silently, I let my head rest on the cool desk, fingers loosening their hold on my pen until it slips idly from my fingers and clatters to the floor. I don't care, all I can see is the faces of the ones I've let down.

A gentle hand rests on my shoulder.

I look up to see the invigilator, Bob, stood beside me, a look of concern on his round and slightly sunburnt face. Slowly, he reaches down and picks up the pen I dropped, and hold it out to me with a silent question. I stare at it stupidly for a moment, before tentatively reaching out and grasping it. He smiles at me, and as he moves away, whispers a few words in my ear.

"Don't give up."

I sit in the chair for a moment, breathing hard and dashing the tears away with the back of my hand. Then, I close my eyes, turn over the page, and open them again.

The questions still seem as incomprehensible as a minute ago. But I may as well go down fighting.

Sniffling, and with my face still red, I click the pen on and start to write.

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I sit at the light brown table in the front room of Kate's apartment, looking out at the sea. I never realised I didn't know the name of the 'lady from downstairs' until I tried to thank her for giving me some of her old clothes to change into and found I didn't have a clue. Having someone give you a change of clothes like you're a five-year-old is embarrassing, but so is not knowing the name of the one who's given them to you.

"Nice tea?" The blonde lady sits down alongside me, putting a plate of chocolate digestives on the table. She smiles as I grab one, before taking one for herself and dunking it in her drink while I just scoff mine whole, all the better to make sure no-one takes any of it off me. She watches me chewing, with cheeks puffed like a gerbil, before putting her mug telling me she's 'Otaku Forever' down with a click. Getting up, she vanishes off into what must be the kitchen again, and re-appears in the room moments later with the whole packet. I guess my joy is obvious, as her face wears a broad smile. "I'm guessing you like them?"

"Yep." I reply, swallowing the last of the first biscuit and eyeing up another.

"Be my guest." She replies, nudging the plate towards me. I don't need a second invitation, and I make even shorter work of the second one than I did of the first.

"These are great! I can't remember having these for a long time, not since gran died." Suddenly, I feel a lot less hungry, and I put the third biscuit down, suddenly feeling the need to stare at the table. The lady next to me takes a sip of tea, and picks up her second digestive.

"I didn't expect to find out you'd gone. I know I gave you the advice, told you to try and get away from him, but I never thought that you would elope off into the mountains." I shrug my shoulders carelessly, before grabbing my mug and taking a big mouthful.

Ouch.

"Ah! Hot! Hot!" I spit the boiling liquid back into the mug and pant like a dog, trying like hell to stop my mouth burning.

"Hey, take it easy Hazel. You want a glass of water?" I shake my head as the pain subsides, and decide that, at the moment, the biscuits are a safer option.

"I'm fine." I take a huge bite of the biscuit, enjoying the taste, and also the fact that it means I can't talk.

"I suppose the thefts that took place in the time between our talk and your disappearance had nothing to do with you, correct?" I think the fact I've started choking on my mouthful of crumbs tells her the answer. "Thought so." She puts her mug down with a clink. "I know that I did the right thing, telling you to get out of there for a while. But I didn't mean for you to go and steal from five shops and a pokemon centre. Although I should've thought, while I was sat there encouraging you to leave, exactly where you were supposed to go." She sighs gently, sounding a little sad. "So I suppose, in the end, everything was down to me. And now it's more than just a string of petty thefts." I finally clear the last of the biscuit, and decide to set her right.

"Hey, it was me who went an' stole a few hundred quid of clothes and things, not you. I didn't steal my pokemon from anyone either, it was one that had been readied to go to Prof Oaks for some new trainer. They'll find a replacement." I take a tentative sip from the cup of tea, and find it quite nice. Not enough sugar though. "Well, turns out taking your advice was the smartest thing I've done for a while. Saw a bit of the world, made a few friends, had a fun time. Kinda forgot about my own pokemon, 'cause I was too busy enjoying life. For the first time in a while, really." Kate smiles at me, reaching out to place a hand on my shoulder, and to my surprise I don't flinch away at the touch.

"I'm glad. I really did wonder if I'd done the right thing, even if I'd ever see you again." She pauses, and seems to steady herself. "Hazel, while you were gone...something happened. To your dad." I look at her, frowning a little. I can sense that this isn't gonna be good.

"What the old man do? He didn't get arrested or set fire to the place again did he?" Kate shakes her head, blonde hair swishing slowly with the movement.

"No, he didn't. It was yesterday, there'd been a horrid smell coming from upstairs for a while, and the council finally got around to doing something to sort it. I remember in the past he'd left rubbish lying around which had rotted, so I thought it would be that." I snort at the thought.

"Yeah, he never could be bothered to take the trash out, even back the days he was himself. Always left it to someone else." The lady sitting next to me looks at me carefully for a second, and then slowly puts her arm around my shoulders, and I can feel alarm bells going off. The answer to what greeted me upstairs hits me with a freezing fist at the same time she starts speaking, but I want to hear it from someone else, just to know for sure.

"Hazel, they didn't bring down bin bags. They brought down your father. He's dead, Hazel. They think he died a couple of weeks ago..." She keeps talking, but I can't hear her any more. It all seems insignificant.

"How?" I ask, feeling like someone else is doing the talking.

"They think that that he choked on his own vomit while blind drunk. I'm sorry." He choked? He choked while I was away? All of a sudden, I feel this crushing feeling in my chest. He's gone? That can't be, I can't believe it…..

Confusion fills my head, a swirling fog that I can't see through. This is too much to take in. That demon, the evil god of my world, dead?

My father, the one I used to love, dead?

"Are you okay?" Kate's voice just reaches me, and I instantly know I want to be somewhere else, anywhere else, but not here. Not in this building, the place where my dad breathed his last.

"Uh, sorry, gotta go. Go now." I slip out of Kates' grasp, hop off the chair, and I'm at a full sprint before I'm out of the door. I ignore the blonde ladys' call, forget my damp socks and shoes, I just run. Run with the hope that I can escape from the truth. I know I can't. I can't run forever, it'll catch up to me soon as I stop.

But it's easier to run than to think.

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I stagger to a bench and slump down, putting my head in my hands. That was a nightmare. Pure, unadulterated horror. I feel physically sick, and it's all I can do to stop myself retching.

Two hours. But it seemed to be two aeons.

Two hours spent like a woman shipwrecked in the middle of the ocean. Every second spent clinging onto hope and struggling to live on, yet inevitably harbouring the knowledge that she will eventually drown. In the end, the water closing above her head is a sweet embrace, a tender, welcoming, smothering kiss that signals an end to her suffering.

I wish this were the case now. My struggles, the exercise in futility that is my life, do not cease with failure.

My life, my shipwreck is for all to see. But I cannot drown in the waters, they force me to float, witholding from me the grace and dignity of sinking.

Instead, the world can see my shame, my pathetic struggle against the weight of expectation.

To be forgotten. To be rejected. I suppose that is my fate now. I am a failure. I spent the whole time writing inept mis-quotations that even the most brain-dead idiot would be ashamed to admit. I knew nothing. Nothing except my name, which I did manage to scribble without error. The name I don't deserve. Misty Williams. One of the Sensational Sisters.

No more. I'm a waste of fucking space. All those people who expected so much from me. My sisters, who I'll never be able to look in the eye, I know that they are pearls, and I am swine. My dad, who believed I could be someone, who still does. I know, even where he lives now, that he will know of my fatuous failure. I can just see his eyes harden, and the scorn in his voice as he derides me for being a blight on the family name. Or, maybe, he wouldn't even say anything at all. He would just stare. Stare, then shake his head, and decide I'm not worth his time.

And Ash. He's given up so much, taking time to mollycoddle some hopeless case. I've been holding him back, denying him his future while imagining that I could create one of my own.

I snigger darkly at the thought.

Hah. That's a joke.

Whatever convinced me I had the ability to actually do anything with my life? All this time, I've been outshone by all those around me. Lily, Daisy, Violet. Brock. Ash. They've got life, spirit, intelligence.

Me? I'm little miss Average. Little miss so-fucking-ordinary. Little miss useless.

I take my hands away from my face, looking across the bay. I don't know how I got to the cape, but I always seem to end up here. The weather is too nice, far too nice for the day that wears it. Right now, if the gods had any sense, the sky should be leaden with ashen cloud, which would preferably be engulfing the city with their contents. Then, I could sit on this azure bench, tip my head back and let the rain spatter on my face, to better express what I'm feeling. But no, all there is is blue. It makes me so angry, makes me want to roar with fury. Go away sun, go and shine on someone who wants your light, someone worth shining upon. Not this little lump of misery who has nothing left for her.

So what do I do? Go back to Ash? Go back and attach myself to him, like the leech I am?

No, not yet. This bench looks comfortable. Although, I think as I begin to pick at a patch of rust that sits like a scab on one of it's metal struts, it could do with a new coat of paint, and if I'm being fussy, an en-suite bin.

Hah, since I'm never going to be a success, maybe I could go into business making park benches more comfortable for tramps. I think my future career might just be full-time hobo. And I'd rather be kipping on a padded, luxury bench with all mod-cons than a hard, rickety old steel frame that will sure as hell dig into your back during a long night of slumber. A chunk of paintwork comes off because of my incessant probing, and I examine it critically. Looks like this seat has had at least a dozen coats of paint. It must have been here a while. In fact, I think I remember sitting on this bench once, only it was red at the time. I was so young, my feet didn't touch the ground, and I managed to get an ice-cream all over my face, down my blouse and on my skirt.

That was a long time ago. Back when I didn't have a care in the world. Back before all the trouble started.

Trouble that came to a head only an hour ago.

I have to ask myself again; why did I think I could do something like this? What gave me the impression that I had the potential? I must be the queen of self-delusion. All those people there, doing the same exam as me, but each and every one of them bright and confident, out of my league. How could I have been so arrogant to think I belonged there? Clear as the fat on my frame, I was a lump of coal in a pile of diamonds. So horribly out of place and worthless.

It was all I could do to stay there for the whole hundred-and-twenty minutes. Most of them had left before then, most of them knew what they were doing. Even that examiner looked at me with pity in his eyes.

And I failed. Of that I have no doubt. Thoughts of newspaper headlines exposing one Ms. M. Williams as being the new record holder for the lowest exam mark ever make me snort softly. If that happened, forget being a hobo, I'll go and live in the forest and get people to believe that there's a yeti in the mountains. I'd even make myself a set of clothes out of pine needles.

Maybe I shouldn't make promises I can't keep.

But I already have.

I've sworn too many times that I will succeed, that I will prove to be a worthy person in my own right.

But then, every time, I've withered like a rose beneath desert sun.

Running the gym. I was weak, too weak. I couldn't take the pressure of keeping it going. I couldn't take the derision of my sisters, who still clung to mothers' dreams of a future in show business. I ran.

Becoming a water master. The excuse I used to stay with Ash. I even grew to believe it myself. But then I realised exactly what it entailed. And that combined with the daydream of becoming someone who could treat pokemon and ease their illness took over. I deserted my plans, and changed track again.

Becoming a healer. Look how that came out.

So next? A full-time cheerleader and wastrel around Ash? At least my abject failure has given me the chance to go with him. Maybe I could actually achieve this dream. And, also, I would be with him. Maybe I wouldn't be worth his attention, but better a hollow life than none at all. I could follow him to the ends of the earth, kiss him in photos after he's won the championships he's destined to conquer. And, if he asked, I'd even let him shag me for kicks. Hell, he wouldn't need to ask. Then I could have his love-child. All that time, I could make sure that I continued my personal war with my body, so I never show him up by looking like the embodiment of gluttony. It'd do. I can't create my own light, so I may as well let Ashs' illuminate me as well. Then I would seem to be someone.

Can I do that?

I want to go with him. I want to live his life. But would he want me?

No, he'd discard me like some used tissue, I'm sure. It's no more or less than I deserve. He'd let me go because I've outlived my use, and become a burden. And I'd float on the wind, until I fall to my resting place and rot, rot until I have gone forever.

No, I don't think I can go with him. Not unless I prove my worth.

But how to? I've already proven my inadequacy.

Think of my name, I can't become some fan-girl slut. Dishonour on the name is not permitted in my family. Even my father, with his fate, accepted it with his head held high and claims on innocence on his part. Misfortune may pay a visit, but submission never enters.

I can't give in.

But I have, haven't I?

Haven't I?

I, I don't know. I've failed, I'm nobody. Can I still be somebody? Anybody? Do I want to be?

But I must be. Mustn't I?

I gaze out again over the irritatingly cheerful day, and smash my hand against the metal bench, ignoring the cut that the action makes.

I'm stuck. And all I want is to shoot myself in the head, to end the endless stream of questions. Endless, and without an answer.

I take a deep, deep breath.

And scream.

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He's dead, Hazel. The thought echoes, over and over, as I pace through the pokemon centre.

He's dead, HazelIn an endless loop, like a heart beating. But hearts stop too. One stopped only weeks ago. And now, I wish mine would stop too.

My father is dead. Dead. The word tastes so odd. I'm not sure I can believe it's true. It's unreal, I can't get my mind around it. How can he be dead? That beast, that devil, dead? I stop and face the door, and reach out to knock.

I should be happy. I should be dancing, cheering that he can't touch me any more. I should be wild with delight, that the guillotine poised above my neck has been blunted. That his cruel hands will be frozen forever.

But, strangely, I'm not really feeling any relief. I'm not really feeling anything. I'm so confused. Why am I not celebrating his death? Whooping like the girls playing hopscotch outside? Why am I walking back towards my temporary room, with a heavy weight in the pit of my belly?

I think of all the times I would hide in my room, nursing bruises and praying to someone, anyone to take me away. But, all that time, I stayed. I thought it was because I had nowhere else to go, that the outside world was scarier than the one I was living in.

Now, I know differently.

And I also know that's not why I stayed for so long.

I reach out to the door, and knock it gently, almost hoping, like an hour ago, that no-one will answer.

Not this time.

"Hazel!" Ash scoops me up into a deep hug, muttering something about 'thank goodness'. I can barely feel him, as my whole body seems numb. Eventually, I find myself sat on my bed, with him on his facing me, relief clear on his face.

"Can I have a cup of tea? I didn't get to finish my last one." Cyndaquil looks puzzled by that, but he complies, shuffling off to put the kettle on.

"I'm so glad you're okay. I was worried sick!" He gives me a look up and down, but the relief seems to die away pretty fast. "Why are you wearing different clothes? And where are your shoes?" I colour a little, feeling like a fool.

"I got a bit too nervous on the way." He seems to draw the right conclusions, because he gives me a sympathetic look.

"I don't think any less of you for that. But why did you go alone? I wanted to be there, there to make sure he did nothing." I look down to the carpet, horrified that I'm feeling a prickling in my eyes.

"It was up to me, I had to face him. I couldn't look myself in the eye if I'd brought someone along as a bodyguard."

"Hazel, he was a man who used to beat you. A bully of the worst kind. I think it's fine to have someone to take care of you if it came to the worst. I want to be the one to help. Sometimes, you can't make it on your own." Something inside me cracks. Ash, he's such a good man, someone who reminds me of him, of him before my grans' death and the genie in a cider bottle took him away.

"You won't have to worry any more." I can feel my bottom lip trembling, and I snap my eyes shut. I can hear the bedsprings creak, and feel a hand on my cheek. A hand stroking, not striking.

"What do you mean?" I realise I'm crying. Tears are running down my face.

"H-he's d-dead, Ash, my dad i-i-is….." A loud sob breaks out, and I hold my head in my hands. Why do I feel like I've just lost someone? He was nothing to me, nothing!

I'm lying.

I always hoped that some day, one day, I would have my dad back. The man I loved, the one that looked after me and treasured me, would come back. That he'd throw away the cheap booze, and take me to see a film, read a book with me, and then kiss me goodnight. That's why I came back. I was hoping, praying, that my absence would make it all go away, that he'd see that it was all wrong, and go back to the old him.

But that won't happen. Because he's gone. He's dead.

My father really died six years ago, leaving only a shadow. But only now is it real. He's gone forever. Only now can I mourn him.

And it's my fault. I was the reason he ended up missing out on his dreams. And then, just weeks ago, I gave up on him. I left him, and he's dead. Some would say good riddance, but I can't. He was still there somewhere, trapped. If only, if only I had managed to stop him drinking, I could have seen my father again. Every night, I prayed for that day.

But I gave up, ran away.

And he's gone forever.

It's as Ash opens his arms and pulls me into him it really hits me.

He's dead.

And I'll never see him smile ever again.

"Oh, dad..." I burst into a barrage of sobs, and bury my face in Ashs' chest, blindly repeating the word over and over. It's like a dam has burst, all the memories of him that I had stashed away from before his drunken life come whooshing back. Visions of a big, happy man, one who had kept his head up when others would have folded, someone who would take time to play with me, someone who I rode pretending I had my very own ponyta, someone that tucked me into bed at night after telling me stories of princesses and pokemon, stories he made up himself. And his smile. The one that made his face light up like the staryu in the cape at night. It's too much, I feel like I'm being beaten by these memories, tossed around like a rag doll, feeling every punch he landed on me while controlled by the demon in a bottle rain down at once.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, it's okay." Ash rubs my back gently as he rocks me in his lap. Dad used to do this too, when I'd scraped my knee or hurt my finger. Then he'd put some magic cream on it, cover it with a plaster, and tell me it was all fine. And it always seemed to be back then.

Now, I don't think anything will ever be fine again.

It's only after a lot of wailing that the torrent of memories slows to a trickle, and I can take in my surroundings. I'm sat cradled in Ashs' grasp as he rocks me back and forth, on the end of one of the beds. I look up through the salty water in my eyes to see him gazing at me with concern. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Cyndaquil watching me carefully, as if I might break at any moment. Eventually, I find a tiny peep of voice, sticky and gravelled from the crying, but strong enough to speak.

"Sorry." He smiles down at me warmly, giving me an extra little squeeze.

"Don't be." His voice is soft, and tender. I can just feel the anguish tugging the corners of my mouth down again. I know I'm gonna start bawling again, but I just want to say it again, to make it that bit more final, to draw the line underneath it.

"He really died six years ago. But now, I know he can never come back to me….." And the tears start again. I feel like I'm on fire, my throat is sore from the sobs ripping their way out of me as my head swims. The sadness doesn't seem to have any end, it just keeps on coming, each second as unbearable as the last. But I can feel Ash stroking my hair, murmuring indistinct words into my ears. I snuggle into him, letting his touch soothe me.

This time, the tears stop quickly. I look up blearily, trying to ignore the pounding of my head, to see Ash looking at me with that fatherly concern. It's the look in his eyes, it tells me that he's got me and I'm safe, because he won't let me go. I never knew how much I missed that feeling.

My father is dead. And so is my demon. But I don't feel the same guilt I did moments ago.

It took me so long to realise the abusive man I lived with wasn't the same as the caring one I forgot. I finally have the chance to mourn my dad, a chance I never had while his body still lived.

And it hurts beyond any of the punches I've taken. But I know I'm not alone any more. I've got Ash, my hero, and his friends.

"I think you need to rest a while, Hazel." His quiet tone wakes me from my thoughts, and I smile up at him despite the throbbing headache and the fact that salty water is once again slipping from my brown eyes.

"Thank you." I crane up, and plant a kiss on his cheek. He smiles as I slip down again, resting my tired head comfortably in the crook of his arm, and I feel myself dozing off instantly.

"Any time. Now you go to sleep, you've worn yourself out. Don't worry, I'll be here." I hear the voice reply. I squeeze into the warm embrace even tighter, letting myself drift off into welcome oblivion. As sleep sweeps me away, my lips murmur a last subconscious comment.

"Thank you, dad….."

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Well, hope that solved a few mysteries, although I've got plenty more up my sleeve yet...anyway, see you soon.

Please R&R!

Dan.