After We've Said Goodbye, chapter 10
By Carolyn
"It makes me that much stronger, makes me work a little bit harder
Makes me that much wiser, thanks for makin' me a fighter. . ." –Christina Aguilera
---------------------------------------------
I really can't be blamed for my actions. I mean, come on. My head was kind of in a whirlwind. In a matter of less than five hours, my entire world changed, and I was hurled back into the mediating universe in full- force. You'd be a little short-tempered, too, with that mixed blessing.
I cleared my throat and suppressed the shiver that fought its way out of my body through my still-wet clothes. "Okay, look. I don't know what happened between the two of you, but I do know that Anthony," I paused, trying to think of a way to say this without sounding like myself—a freak who talks to the dead, "um, well, he cares. . . –cared- about you a lot. And I honestly think you got him all wrong. I don't think he was cheating on you."
She glared at me, but she didn't appear quite as outraged as before. "He totally was," she asserted. "He thought that just because I'm just some little high school girl that I wouldn't know. . . bu-but I did." She stopped looking so mad, and actually looked heartbroken for a change. "I knew."
I groaned inwardly. I am a lot of things—mediator, student, babysitter. . . girlfriend—but there's one thing I'm not, and that's a therapist. I so did not want to sit here and comfort this girl, who might I add, murdered her own boyfriend, when I could be making much better use of my time with my own. Boyfriend, I mean. Who happened to be sitting on the fountain edge, looking all hot and manly. I nonchalantly walked over to the fountain and sat beside him, although Jessica didn't see anyone else.
"All right," I said. "Let's just say he –was- cheating on you. Does that really justify what you did?"
The flash of anger returned briefly to her pretty face. All right, I thought. I guess we're probably not going to get anywhere with me going all "Dear Abby" on her. I sighed.
Just then, I caught another flash of something out of the corner of my eye, and upon further inspection, I found that it was looking as, if not more, angry than Jessica was.
Anthony Tonelli. He was back, and apparently, he had heard quite a bit of our conversation, and now knew that his own girlfriend had offed him. It's probably not a pleasant wake-up call.
But, I realized with a sharp breath, it was the same wake-up call that Jesse had gotten when he woke up dead all those hundred-fifty-odd years ago. I tore my eyes away from a murderous-looking Anthony to look over at Jesse, who seemed lost in thought. Maybe that's why he had been so quiet throughout this whole ordeal. . .maybe that's why he didn't want me to get involved. It was probably like Maria had plopped right back down on earth in front of him in the form of Jessica Winters. . . except for that whole cheating thing. Jesse never cheated on her, well, considering they never really even knew each other. But whatever.
I looked back over to Anthony, who advanced on our area in a fit of rage. "Are you. . . are you tryin' to tell me that. . . that she –purposely- killed me?!" He looked at Jessica, who was standing a mere three feet away from him, and had no idea he was there. Something in his eyes made me a little nervous for her sake. He didn't look much like the loving boyfriend who I met earlier that evening.
But then again, I guess stuff like that happens to change when you find out that the girlfriend you were loving didn't really feel too amorous back. Like, say, about as adoring as a praying mantis about to bite the head off of a helpless black ant. It doesn't exactly give one the warm fuzzies.
"I'm not trying to tell you anything," I said quickly, hopping up off of the ledge, and Jesse, sensing the tension, did the same.
Jessica gave me a weird look. "Yeah, you better not be, because Anthony got what he deserved. No one screws around with some other chick and gets awa—"
I leapt over and clamped my hand over Jessica's mouth. Too late, though. She'd already said too much in Anthony's presence anyway, so I really don't know what I was trying to prevent. He already knew that Jessica essentially murdered him, so having her admit it one more time probably wasn't going to change anything.
All right, let me rephrase that. It probably wasn't going to make him any –less- angry. It sure did change things though—he got way more pissed, if the way his ghostly aura tripled its wattage was any indication.
"Hey!" Jessica screeched, throwing my hand off of her mouth. "What do you think you're do—"
"Look out!" I cried, pushing her out of the way of a flying uprooted stone. I managed to push her to safety, but got walloped by the brick in her place. Sure, it only hit me on the shoulder, but let me tell you something—ghosts are strong. When they throw things, they –hurt-.
Jesse rushed over to me. "Susannah! Are you all right?" He put his arm around my waist and lifted me back to my feet—which, honestly, was probably overdoing it just a bit. I mean, yeah, I just got hit by a brick flying at a pretty high velocity and was probably bleeding, but I've been buried by a whole hallway of bricks and still managed to come out alive. I wasn't about to complain, though.
"Jesse," I breathed. "He's going to try to kill her!"
Who'd have thought I'd be trying to protect Jessica Winters? I tell you, sometimes, it's better to just not think too far ahead when you're a mediator. Some things are just not in the playbook.
Jesse's dark eyes flashed as he looked over to where Jessica was sprawled out on the grass, slowly getting up, and not looking very pleased. "Hey, what the hell was that for?" Only she didn't say 'hell.'
"Look," I called over to her. "You've got to get out of here, okay? Don't ask, just go!"
Anthony turned to me, looking murderous as ever. I swear, he looked like one of those mug shots of someone on America's Most Wanted, only glowing. A lot.
"You. . . I thought you were on –my- side! She –killed- me!"
Okay, now I was dealing with two very angry people. I had a feeling this was going to get very messy, very soon.
"Jesse, get Father Dom," I said. Two mediators would probably be better than one, in this case.
Jesse looked uncertain. "Susannah. . . I don't want you alone with this—"
"Jesse!" I pleaded. "I'll be fine. Just please, get him, okay? It'll only take a second!"
He hesitated, looking uneasy, but I shot him a final pleading glance, and he disappeared in a shimmer of light. I returned my focus to the scene unfolding before me: Anthony advancing toward Jessica, holding a good-sized stone in his hands. He apparently realized that, although he couldn't touch her, he sure could hit her with stuff, and he leapt on this interesting bit of knowledge.
"No, stop!"
Jessica turned around, confused. "I thought you told me to g—ah!" She saw the brick, seemingly hovering in thin air, and her eyes went wide. "What the hell!?"
"Jessica, RUN!"
Not, I knew, that it would really do any good. Anthony could materialize wherever he wanted, but I was betting on the hope that he didn't know that yet. He wasn't about to let her take my advice, however. The hazel-eyed once-sophomore hurled the heavy rock at his former girlfriend, hitting her square in the back. Jessica cried out in pain and fell to the ground.
I was appalled. Maybe it was because I hadn't dealt with the homicidal sort in quite a while, but still. That was just uncalled for.
"Hey!" I ran over to him, grabbing him by the left arm. "That's not going to solve anything, all right? Chill out! I'm handling this!"
His arm flinched violently. His gaze, which was fixed on the whimpering form of his murderer, turned and looked down at me. And let me tell you, the look he was giving me wouldn't exactly make a girl's heart go pitter- pat. Instead, I sneezed. I don't know where it came from. Was I getting sick or something?
"You," he growled, disgusted, in a voice that sounded so out-of-place coming from him. "You aren't going to handle –anything-. This doesn't concern you. This is between me and –her-." Anthony spat out that last pronoun as if it were vile. Which, to him, it probably was.
"Nu-uh," I shook my head stubbornly, sending my wavy hair flying. "This isn't how it's done."
The arm I was holding onto suddenly flew from my grasp and wrapped around my neck instead. Not too gently, either.
Okay. This was way uncool.
See what I get for trying to help? Flying bricks in my shoulder and big guy-arms choking around my neck. I ask you, who needs that?
"Hey!" I yelled, gripping his arm with my hands. "Lay off it, pal!" I gave him a firm back-kick to the shin, which caught him off-guard, and spun out from under his arm. I whirled around to face him, fists poised and ready for a little ghostly ass-kicking.
Anthony, it appeared, was ready to accept my challenge. This was definitely not the same kid who had shrunk away when I popped him one in the face out on the pier. Now he was looking just plain murderous.
Not. Good.
He took a menacing step toward me, casting a glace in Jessica's direction. She was barely getting up, still moaning from the crushing blow to her back. Come on, I thought. She must have gotten hit with a softball or gotten dropped off a pyramid in cheerleading. Don't tell me she didn't hop right back up!
Although I guess getting pursued by your murdered ex-boyfriend can be a little different.
"Either get out of my way," he demanded, "or you'll just have to deal with what happens."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "No."
I guess that wasn't what he wanted to hear, because the next thing I knew, Anthony lunged at me like a panther and had both his hands around my neck. All right, I thought. I can handle this. I've gotten out of death-grips before. It comes with the territory.
So I tried. Emphasis on the word 'tried,' because let me tell you, Anthony may not have been a star shot-putter or anything in his life, but apparently that doesn't matter too much when you're dead. I think I've mentioned this before, that ghosts have amazing strength.
Unfortunately. Because next thing I knew, he was dragging me, flailing about and kicking him—pretty hard, I might add, but I guess he was learning that he didn't really have to feel pain, being dead and all—over to the mission's fountain.
And in I went.
Okay, I thought as I was submerged in chilly water for the second time that night. This is not good.
-------------------------
2004 by Carolyn
Chapter 11 coming soon—and there is major fluff ;-) More reviews = faster uploading!
By Carolyn
"It makes me that much stronger, makes me work a little bit harder
Makes me that much wiser, thanks for makin' me a fighter. . ." –Christina Aguilera
---------------------------------------------
I really can't be blamed for my actions. I mean, come on. My head was kind of in a whirlwind. In a matter of less than five hours, my entire world changed, and I was hurled back into the mediating universe in full- force. You'd be a little short-tempered, too, with that mixed blessing.
I cleared my throat and suppressed the shiver that fought its way out of my body through my still-wet clothes. "Okay, look. I don't know what happened between the two of you, but I do know that Anthony," I paused, trying to think of a way to say this without sounding like myself—a freak who talks to the dead, "um, well, he cares. . . –cared- about you a lot. And I honestly think you got him all wrong. I don't think he was cheating on you."
She glared at me, but she didn't appear quite as outraged as before. "He totally was," she asserted. "He thought that just because I'm just some little high school girl that I wouldn't know. . . bu-but I did." She stopped looking so mad, and actually looked heartbroken for a change. "I knew."
I groaned inwardly. I am a lot of things—mediator, student, babysitter. . . girlfriend—but there's one thing I'm not, and that's a therapist. I so did not want to sit here and comfort this girl, who might I add, murdered her own boyfriend, when I could be making much better use of my time with my own. Boyfriend, I mean. Who happened to be sitting on the fountain edge, looking all hot and manly. I nonchalantly walked over to the fountain and sat beside him, although Jessica didn't see anyone else.
"All right," I said. "Let's just say he –was- cheating on you. Does that really justify what you did?"
The flash of anger returned briefly to her pretty face. All right, I thought. I guess we're probably not going to get anywhere with me going all "Dear Abby" on her. I sighed.
Just then, I caught another flash of something out of the corner of my eye, and upon further inspection, I found that it was looking as, if not more, angry than Jessica was.
Anthony Tonelli. He was back, and apparently, he had heard quite a bit of our conversation, and now knew that his own girlfriend had offed him. It's probably not a pleasant wake-up call.
But, I realized with a sharp breath, it was the same wake-up call that Jesse had gotten when he woke up dead all those hundred-fifty-odd years ago. I tore my eyes away from a murderous-looking Anthony to look over at Jesse, who seemed lost in thought. Maybe that's why he had been so quiet throughout this whole ordeal. . .maybe that's why he didn't want me to get involved. It was probably like Maria had plopped right back down on earth in front of him in the form of Jessica Winters. . . except for that whole cheating thing. Jesse never cheated on her, well, considering they never really even knew each other. But whatever.
I looked back over to Anthony, who advanced on our area in a fit of rage. "Are you. . . are you tryin' to tell me that. . . that she –purposely- killed me?!" He looked at Jessica, who was standing a mere three feet away from him, and had no idea he was there. Something in his eyes made me a little nervous for her sake. He didn't look much like the loving boyfriend who I met earlier that evening.
But then again, I guess stuff like that happens to change when you find out that the girlfriend you were loving didn't really feel too amorous back. Like, say, about as adoring as a praying mantis about to bite the head off of a helpless black ant. It doesn't exactly give one the warm fuzzies.
"I'm not trying to tell you anything," I said quickly, hopping up off of the ledge, and Jesse, sensing the tension, did the same.
Jessica gave me a weird look. "Yeah, you better not be, because Anthony got what he deserved. No one screws around with some other chick and gets awa—"
I leapt over and clamped my hand over Jessica's mouth. Too late, though. She'd already said too much in Anthony's presence anyway, so I really don't know what I was trying to prevent. He already knew that Jessica essentially murdered him, so having her admit it one more time probably wasn't going to change anything.
All right, let me rephrase that. It probably wasn't going to make him any –less- angry. It sure did change things though—he got way more pissed, if the way his ghostly aura tripled its wattage was any indication.
"Hey!" Jessica screeched, throwing my hand off of her mouth. "What do you think you're do—"
"Look out!" I cried, pushing her out of the way of a flying uprooted stone. I managed to push her to safety, but got walloped by the brick in her place. Sure, it only hit me on the shoulder, but let me tell you something—ghosts are strong. When they throw things, they –hurt-.
Jesse rushed over to me. "Susannah! Are you all right?" He put his arm around my waist and lifted me back to my feet—which, honestly, was probably overdoing it just a bit. I mean, yeah, I just got hit by a brick flying at a pretty high velocity and was probably bleeding, but I've been buried by a whole hallway of bricks and still managed to come out alive. I wasn't about to complain, though.
"Jesse," I breathed. "He's going to try to kill her!"
Who'd have thought I'd be trying to protect Jessica Winters? I tell you, sometimes, it's better to just not think too far ahead when you're a mediator. Some things are just not in the playbook.
Jesse's dark eyes flashed as he looked over to where Jessica was sprawled out on the grass, slowly getting up, and not looking very pleased. "Hey, what the hell was that for?" Only she didn't say 'hell.'
"Look," I called over to her. "You've got to get out of here, okay? Don't ask, just go!"
Anthony turned to me, looking murderous as ever. I swear, he looked like one of those mug shots of someone on America's Most Wanted, only glowing. A lot.
"You. . . I thought you were on –my- side! She –killed- me!"
Okay, now I was dealing with two very angry people. I had a feeling this was going to get very messy, very soon.
"Jesse, get Father Dom," I said. Two mediators would probably be better than one, in this case.
Jesse looked uncertain. "Susannah. . . I don't want you alone with this—"
"Jesse!" I pleaded. "I'll be fine. Just please, get him, okay? It'll only take a second!"
He hesitated, looking uneasy, but I shot him a final pleading glance, and he disappeared in a shimmer of light. I returned my focus to the scene unfolding before me: Anthony advancing toward Jessica, holding a good-sized stone in his hands. He apparently realized that, although he couldn't touch her, he sure could hit her with stuff, and he leapt on this interesting bit of knowledge.
"No, stop!"
Jessica turned around, confused. "I thought you told me to g—ah!" She saw the brick, seemingly hovering in thin air, and her eyes went wide. "What the hell!?"
"Jessica, RUN!"
Not, I knew, that it would really do any good. Anthony could materialize wherever he wanted, but I was betting on the hope that he didn't know that yet. He wasn't about to let her take my advice, however. The hazel-eyed once-sophomore hurled the heavy rock at his former girlfriend, hitting her square in the back. Jessica cried out in pain and fell to the ground.
I was appalled. Maybe it was because I hadn't dealt with the homicidal sort in quite a while, but still. That was just uncalled for.
"Hey!" I ran over to him, grabbing him by the left arm. "That's not going to solve anything, all right? Chill out! I'm handling this!"
His arm flinched violently. His gaze, which was fixed on the whimpering form of his murderer, turned and looked down at me. And let me tell you, the look he was giving me wouldn't exactly make a girl's heart go pitter- pat. Instead, I sneezed. I don't know where it came from. Was I getting sick or something?
"You," he growled, disgusted, in a voice that sounded so out-of-place coming from him. "You aren't going to handle –anything-. This doesn't concern you. This is between me and –her-." Anthony spat out that last pronoun as if it were vile. Which, to him, it probably was.
"Nu-uh," I shook my head stubbornly, sending my wavy hair flying. "This isn't how it's done."
The arm I was holding onto suddenly flew from my grasp and wrapped around my neck instead. Not too gently, either.
Okay. This was way uncool.
See what I get for trying to help? Flying bricks in my shoulder and big guy-arms choking around my neck. I ask you, who needs that?
"Hey!" I yelled, gripping his arm with my hands. "Lay off it, pal!" I gave him a firm back-kick to the shin, which caught him off-guard, and spun out from under his arm. I whirled around to face him, fists poised and ready for a little ghostly ass-kicking.
Anthony, it appeared, was ready to accept my challenge. This was definitely not the same kid who had shrunk away when I popped him one in the face out on the pier. Now he was looking just plain murderous.
Not. Good.
He took a menacing step toward me, casting a glace in Jessica's direction. She was barely getting up, still moaning from the crushing blow to her back. Come on, I thought. She must have gotten hit with a softball or gotten dropped off a pyramid in cheerleading. Don't tell me she didn't hop right back up!
Although I guess getting pursued by your murdered ex-boyfriend can be a little different.
"Either get out of my way," he demanded, "or you'll just have to deal with what happens."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "No."
I guess that wasn't what he wanted to hear, because the next thing I knew, Anthony lunged at me like a panther and had both his hands around my neck. All right, I thought. I can handle this. I've gotten out of death-grips before. It comes with the territory.
So I tried. Emphasis on the word 'tried,' because let me tell you, Anthony may not have been a star shot-putter or anything in his life, but apparently that doesn't matter too much when you're dead. I think I've mentioned this before, that ghosts have amazing strength.
Unfortunately. Because next thing I knew, he was dragging me, flailing about and kicking him—pretty hard, I might add, but I guess he was learning that he didn't really have to feel pain, being dead and all—over to the mission's fountain.
And in I went.
Okay, I thought as I was submerged in chilly water for the second time that night. This is not good.
-------------------------
2004 by Carolyn
Chapter 11 coming soon—and there is major fluff ;-) More reviews = faster uploading!