Sequence

Chapter 1: News Flash

The alarm buzzed blaringly, each vibration of the sound, tugging me faster out of my dream-like stupor. Groaning loudly, I rolled over and slammed my hand down on top of the blaring box, effectively silencing the damned object.

Peering through heavily lidded eyes, I stared at the flashing red digits in front of me. 'Six-forty-five' they notified me, I grimaced before rolling back over and falling asleep again. Hell, it was a Sunday; I could sleep in if I wanted to.

However, apparently, that was not the case at all. For only forty minutes later, my mother was bustling into my room, pulling my window open. I was only half-conscious for this part, but I could identify her actions through the sounds of her movements.

A few seconds later, I heard the click of her heels, making their way over to me before she shook me lightly, with cold fingers, rousing me from my peaceful state of mind.

"Suzie, honey, you have to wake up now. I have to do a few things this morning, so I'll be out for a while and oh …" she paused for a second, and in that time, I opened my eyes slowly to stare at her, squinting against the early morning sun's rays, which were pouring in through the open window. "Jesse's downstairs, waiting for you in the kitchen."

My eyes snapped open fully, all drowsiness washing swiftly from my body and I pulled myself into a sitting position, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, "What- what … why?"

My mother shot me a look, before shaking her head and replying, "He is your boyfriend, right? Doesn't he have the right to visit his girlfriend when he wants to?"

"Of course he does," I glanced furtively towards my clock before adding, "but not at seven-twenty-five in the morning."

My mother shrugged before tugging my sheets off me, "Well, I thought it was sweet of him."

I sighed deeply as she walked to the door again, "I'll be down in five."

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Ten minutes later found me in the kitchen, nibbling on a piece of toast whilst staring, mesmerized, at the Spanish boy in front of me, who was currently engorged in an article of the 'Carmel Pine Cone', the local newspaper, and sipping on a mug of steaming hot coffee.

I frowned, was this all he came over for? Was this, the reason that he woke me out of bed at seven in the morning? To read a newspaper which he could undoubtedly get his hands on anywhere else?

I sighed, deeply, letting him know that I was not amused with the interaction between us – or lack of, I should say.

I could think of a few other things that we could be doing right now; one of them didn't even involve talking.

Dark liquid eyes swayed from the print in front of them, to gaze at me, as a small smile traced at his lips, unsurely.

"Having fun?" I asked, drumming the tips of my fingers against the wooden table beneath me.

Dark, curious eyebrows rose to be concealed behind thick, dark locks, "Yes."

I groaned, "No, Jesse, you're not supposed to be happy."

His face twisted into an expression that was full of bewilderment, "Oh? And why not querida?"

I rolled my eyes in frustration; he really didn't know anything, did he? Well not about the basic concepts of a relationship.

"Because, this," I gestured to the table, and then to me and him, "is not fun."

Jesse laughed, amusedly, flashing me his perfectly white and straight dentals. Which got me thinking, for about the millionth time, how he had managed to maintain such perfect teeth, I mean, I was pretty sure that they didn't have orthodontic surgeries in the mid eighteenth century.

"Well then, Susannah," his voice quickly hauled me from my thoughts, and I shook my head gently, "what do you propose that we do instead?" he asked, his voice laced with light implication as he smirked, darkly at me.

I smiled. That was more like it. I moved off my chair and stood up, pulling the paper out of his strong hands and flipping it, unceremoniously onto the table. I glanced briefly at the main article on the first page, reading the headline, but not really taking it in.

Yes, indeed, my hormones were taking over.

I pulled Jesse to his feet and snaked my arms around his waist, my eyes drifting along his firm abs - strong ripples of the muscles were exposed to my hungry eyes, even beneath his shirt – past his chiselled jaw line and lingered on his lips.

I towed his head down to mine, and as soon as our lips met, the passion within me soared.

Oh, how I loved to kiss my sexy Latino beast.

I pulled away from him for a second, "We could do … this … if you …wanted?" I asked, between light kisses, in what I intended to be a sexually seductive voice, and which probably sounded like I was panting for my last breaths, or something. Charming, I know.

Suddenly, I wrenched away from him, jerking my body away from his soft, addictive touch, and tugging his hands away from my waist.

Jesse frowned, looking somewhat confused, and yet, disappointed in my unexpected actions. However, the shock that I was feeling must have registered on my face, as he suddenly grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look into his dark, concerned eyes.

"Susannah, what's wrong?"

I pulled away from him, yet again, and numbly leant my weight against the table. I did this for two reasons, mainly, the fact that my legs had abruptly turned to jelly, caused me to lose all form of balance against the gravitational force acting against me, and I needed something to hold me up. Secondly, I needed to retrace my eyes along the article that my eyes had skimmed over earlier.

I sunk into one of the chairs, slightly aware of Jesse's intense gaze on me, and pulled the newspaper towards me.

The heading blazed at me, vividly, the large, emboldened, inky black print, clarifying my prior assumptions.

'The Slater Homicide'

'Eighteen year old, Paul Slater was constrained early on Saturday morning and accused of the homicide of his girlfriend, Kelly Prescott. Both citizens of Carmel-By-The-Sea were found unconscious, under the roof of the Prescott family house; the young Kelly, was lying on her bed, and forensics are saying that her death was caused by suffocation. Paul has efficiently been relocated, from the comforts of his grandfather's house on Seventeen Mile Drive, to a highly secured room, situated in the Monterey Mental Health Institution.'

I tore my eyes away from the page, unwilling to read anymore, and inclined backwards in my chair.

I could feel Jesse's hot breath tickling my ear as he leant over me to read the article for himself, but it was doing nothing for me, stirring absolutely no emotions within me, hell, it wasn't even rousing my hormones.

I felt so devoid of all emotion … like a zombie, unfeeling and indifferent.

After a while, Jesse left his spot at my shoulder, and occupied the chair next to me, his gaze still intense and yet slightly cautious and uncertain.

"I can't believe it." I said stoically, after a few long minutes.

Jesse shifted slightly, somewhat uncomfortable under the tense, heavy atmosphere that was currently asphyxiating us.

Like Paul had Kelly.

I couldn't breathe; this was all too surreal for me. I mean, I know that I used to think that Paul was a cold-blooded murderer, but after a while, I began to think that my assumptions were incorrect, and even though he had left me in shadowland, to die, I was still hesitant to believe, that he was actually capable of such harsh cruelty.

"What are you going to do?" Jesse asked, softly, his hand coming to entwine with my own.

"I have to find out," I started, slowly, "I have to find out the truth."

AN – Hmm … is all clarified yet? If not, still don't worry, I haven't quite elaborated on what's happening, exactly, yet.

I was intending to do so, more, in this chapter. Elaborate, that is, but I couldn't bring myself to do so, I just couldn't find it within me to continue this chapter, for if it were dragged on any longer, the rest would be useless, irrelevant gibberish.

So the chapters will get longer, I promise; I know that they are extremely short at the minute, but as the plot develops, I will lengthen the chapters to a suitable length.

Thanks so much for reviewing:

Mrs. Nikki Slater – Yay … confusion lol! I am so glad you liked it, although, I have to admit, there wasn't much of it in the prologue to like. Is this update soon enough for you?

starrynightdreamer – I haven't read that story of yours, but when I get some free time, - which I've a shortage of at the minute – I will read it. However, I have read Fast Lane, and I have to say, I loved it.