This is long . . . our apologies. Love Lolly and Hayley! And, seriously? How could you NOT know who it is? It even deserves thought? Come ON!

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A number of things flashed through my mind at that moment. For a frightening second, I believed that it had been Cole Kennedy saying that to me. That he'd followed me back to Carmel, when I'd been trying to escape, not only my life, but him as well. I was scared that he'd come after me when he'd realized that I had tried to run away, and that he was going to make me sorry. I was scared, because I was so scared of him. What had happened to me? Where was this fearless, valiant Suze Simon? The resident bad girl, punk ass bitch? Where did she go? What happened to her?

. . . She died a long time ago.

She died when Jesse left her.

This was who I was now.

Some stupid shell . . .

But no. In the moment where a full-blown dismay had rocketed from my stomach upwards, I was hit with the recognition. The realization. Yeah, I recognized that voice. The one that made my heart beat that little bit faster, and made my blood run just a little bit colder, and a dread to set heavily in me.

And realization? Well, I realized that of COURSE he'd be here. I couldn't believe that I'd never thought of it before. I'd never even considered he'd really, truly come back here, you know? That he'd have the nerve too, after what had happened . . .

But he was here. God, he was here. He was standing right behind me, wasn't he?

'Paul, hi! You're back!' his younger brother beamed happily.

Paul. Paul Slater. The one who'd ruined it all for me . . . for me and Jesse.

I went as stiff as a dead cat.

Paul . . .

He ignored his brother, of course. Had he ever paid attention to the little guy? With everything that happened, all Paul had ever done was ignore Jack, not care . . . Yeah, instead of replying to the happy greeting, I heard gradual footsteps. Not many, but enough to know that he'd made it halfway up the chapel's aisle.

'Well, this is interesting. I wasn't expecting such a surprise. Maybe I should come here more often,' he said in an amused drawl, one that chilled every nerve in my body.

I had no idea what he meant by that. All I knew was that I was NOT turning around. I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that my face was sculpted to an expression of chaste horror. And yeah, pain.

Because those memories were bombarding me, making my world spin dangerously off axis. Those memories, they were the ones I'd been running from for the past pathetic five years of my wasted life.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Big Sur, one lovely place to be at night. Especially after enjoying the lovely sunset. Most of the teenagers in Carmel refer to it as 'The Point', the key make out spot in the whole Carmel-By-The-Sea area. And I was there with Paul Slater. A little odd, I agree. What's even worse? I was in his arms, lying on the ground trying to breathe.

It's not what it seems...it really isn't. Hit by the overwhelming fact that the love of my life would rather stay here than go with me, I had no choice but to get out and try really hard to forget about him. That is part of the reason I was laying on the ground . . . I nearly fainted. Paul brought it up . . . he knew about this. He knew Jesse was going to do that to me. He wanted him to. It was all so overwhelming that I just collapsed to the ground, heroically caught by Paul Slater himself. So that brings me to my current and very compromising situation.

'This sucks,' I tell Paul while I desperately gasp for air. 'Everything sucks now.'

'I know, I know,' Paul tried to calm me down. But nothing that he would do could ever fix it. And who was he to try to calm me down? He was part of the problem. I closed my eyes, only to open them when Paul called my name.

'What?' I asked with annoyance. I was really tired and oxygen wasn't really getting to my brain. Paul wouldn't let me sleep because apparently blood would not flow to my brain and then I really would pass out.

'I . . . I'm sorry.'

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. I didn't know whether or not to believe him. It was pretty hard for me to believe that a guy that has tried for two years to ruin my life would apologize once it had all train- wrecked.

'Say something, will you?' he pleaded with me. His grip was tightening, adding to my oxygen problems.

'Why should I?' I asked him viciously. 'To make you feel better? So you don't have to feel guilty?'

With that I muster the strength to stand up and brush myself off. We were next to his car, which was parked near the land marker.

I used the car to sturdy myself as I said with a laugh, 'I'm going home. Hell, I don't even know the way home. If I get lost . . . well, my bad. But it'll be your bad too, won't it? Funny.' I began walking as fast as my legs would take me.

'Suze, stop,' Paul commanded me as he ran to catch up, which wasn't very far to catch up to because I was a little slow in my dizzied walking. I didn't stop for him though. It took me most of my strength, but I kept on walking . . . ignoring him.

Instead I said, 'It's a long way. Seventeen-Mile Drive. My bad again.'

'You can't handle the fact that I'm right, can you?' Paul spat, ignoring my previous comment.

Ignoring is the name of the game now, folks. We both seemed to be pretty good at it.

'I still don't trust you. Not after everything. And I don't forgive you,' I breezed on by as if I were only talking to myself. 'I never will, Paul. You go live with that, okay?'

Paul ignored me . . . again. 'Suze, don't leave. You're tired and scared right now.'

Well, it's pretty hard to ignore someone when they accuse you of something you are not capable of. I guess it's the Ignoring game over.

'I'm not scared! I'm not scared of anything! I'm—I'm like Wonderwoman or something.'

'I understand. I'll take you home right away,' Paul said. Leave it up to Paul to never quit . . . even when he's won. He still ignored everything I said. God.

'No,' I stop quickly, 'You're not taking me anywhere.'

'I'll walk with you,' he told me, STILL ignoring me. 'I'm not letting you walk alone. Not at this hour.'

'Go back to your posh little BMW and eat those fancy-smancy Salt and Vinegar chips,' I hissed. 'And while you're at it, you can think of the one thing a rich snob like you can't have. Me. Get away from me, Paul Slater, or so help me God I'll . . . '

'Fuck you, Suze,' Paul growled rather loudly at me. He . . . he told me to . . . UGH! He had the gall to ruin my life and then try to tell me that. Well . . .

'Fuck YOU, Paul,' I spat back at him, returning the favor.

'You know what?' Paul snarled, 'I'm not sorry. Not anymore.'

'Good,' I told him, 'Neither am I. For this . . . ' I raised my right fist and socked him one straight in his ever-targeted nose. He spun back, and let out a yell of animosity. I smiled at him a little bit. 'Did that make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside?' I asked, pouting at him with hard eyes.

'I wanted Jesse gone. You're right,' he told me, his voice all muffled because he was holding the bridge of his nose. It wasn't bleeding, sadly. But at least it gave him a scare . . . or maybe not.

'And he's GONE,' I yell at him. 'Go celebrate! Go burn his portrait or whatever it is FREAKS like you do. I'm going. I don't care . . . I just don't care anymore.'

'But Suze,' he was yet again ignoring me, 'I didn't want it if you were going to be like . . . like this.'

'Like what?' I yelled, 'A blubbering mutant? A heinous bitch? Well, SORRY, it's all part of the package of ruining my life. Eat shit.'

He looked a little taken aback, but not enough to keep himself from roaring my name loudly, causing me to wince as it echoed throughout The Point. Thunderclouds were drawing in over us as if Paul himself cued them with his anger.

'I cared about you. A whole lot,' he told me, his voice dropped a few decibels. 'But now I . . . '

'That's so sweet. Past tense? Okay, see ya around,' I said as I began walking again, nose high in the air.

'Wait,' he commanded me, 'You need to hear this.'

'NO,' I screamed as I continued to walk, 'I don't!'

'YES,' he yelled back, 'You do.'

'I really . . . 'I started off, but I never got to finish it because Paul tackled me to the ground, landing on top of me. I'm pretty sad to report that it kind of crushed me and furthermore prevented me from breathing properly. Stupid jerk . . . what was so important that he had to tackle me to have me hear it?

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

'Suze? Oi, Suze? You spacing out or something?' Jack asked me blithely, grinning.

I blinked and shook my head, trying to shake those visions out of my mind.

'Jack, I just remembered something I had to um . . . do,' I breathed. 'I'll see you later, okay?'

'Wait, Suze! Aren't you going to Mass?' Jack asked with a little disappointment as he stood by me. 'That's what you said-'

'Jack, shut up,' I hissed at him. My heart was racing in my chest, gravity threatening me with each step. And though my heart was fast, my movements were slow . . . too slow. I made my way, little by little, to the exit, not even turning to look back. If I did, my worst nightmares would be confirmed. That nightmare? That neither time nor distance could rid me of Paul Slater.

'Jack, go to class,' Paul's commanding voice, though not addressed to me, stopped me dead in my tracks. I shivered reluctantly.

Jack protested, 'But-'

'Jack,' Paul said his name firmly, not at all lovingly or brotherly. 'Just do it.'

I couldn't move. Not a bit. Not after hearing how that voice had deepened even further, how it had so much authority and amusement now. It was paralyzing. I felt immobilized on the spot. As if, neither running away or staying would help, and so I settled for not moving. It was awful to feel like this again. I thought that these experiences had been kissed goodbye long ago.

But as do ghosts, memories will haunt you.

With less mercy.

'You know what, Jack?' I said suddenly, my voice producing a distantly familiar squeak – resembling one that had been present in my tones five years ago, 'I'll come too. It can be like a field trip for me, only . . . uh, no permission slips, okay?' Please Jack, I pleaded in my mind. Please do something. Please save me from your psycho older brother. I'm sorry for thinking you were a freak and mentally comparing you to your seemingly normal brother. I now see the error of my ways. Please help . . .

Jack shuffled over to me. 'Hey, Suze, I can handle it,' murmured, and gave me a small smile. 'Don't mind my brother, he's always being bossy with me. You don't have to come with me, I can deal.' That's not what I meant! I wasn't even trying to look after him this time! Um, beg to DIFFER?

But he just WALKED OUT OF THE CHURCH.

I didn't even bother turning around. I could tell, though. I heard the quick, light footsteps, and the creek of the door, and then the door slamming back into place.

And then I heard silence.

Oh God. It was a quietness that hugged at me tightly, in an asphyxiating way, not an affectionate one. It siphoned the confidence I had in myself, and my nerve. A heavy blanket of dread and vulnerability seemed to stifle me. Everything was so hot, and – and stuffy . . . God . . . I stared emphatically up at the statue of the Virgin Mary. She looked at me stonily.

Susie has sinned . . .

I glared at the statue. Didn't cry any tears of blood for ME when I graduated. Yeah, so nah, nah. The statue is malfunctioning . . . stupid statue. That holy face just glared back at me, with those big innocent eyes and a small smile. Smiling? At a time like this? The monster that ruined whatever chance of a good life I had . . . he was only a few feet away. And you're SMILING? Couldn't you just, I don't know, yell for help or something?

Good, Suze. Give no regard to evil loser who is standing behind you. Ignore him. Yep, he don't exist. He's a figment of your stupid imagination. He's like a cloud, or something. Say, 'hello cloud' so it will then float away –

'It's been a long time, Suze.'

That's what the cloud – I mean, Paul said. Just that. Stated the fact that I hadn't had to look at his ugly face for a space of time. I mean, hell, I wanted him to go, but if he was going to say something, it could have at least been GOOD. I mean, this guy had a lot of groveling to do before he even suspected that I would even bother talking to him. After everything he did. How he ruined it all for me . . .

But, oh. When he spoke . . . my stomach went haywire. His voice sounded so deadly. It totally seized my guts and twisted it until I was sure my stomach would no longer digest food anymore. Oh, great. Now he had made sure I couldn't eat. Well, thanks a buuuuunch, Paul.

A long time . . .

'Not long enough, obviously,' I replied, finding my voice after seemingly decades of searching. Cold, hard eyes of the statue of the Virgin Mother Mary . . . 'You're going to hell,' they said to me.

I'm already there . . .

I heard him chuckle, and my muscles reacted with total seizure. Every inch of my body was hard as rock, I was straining so much to run from there. But I couldn't move. I wanted to, but I couldn't! I was completely frozen, like those prehistoric Neanderthals they found not too long ago. I watched something about them on the Discovery Channel, since I couldn't very well hear about them from Doc because of my five-year absence from his life.

'So, how are things, Suze?' he said with a small laugh. '. . . Was is worth it?'

My face creased in anger. He was doing it . . . he knew it all, and he was going to make me feel it. Give him the satisfaction of knowing that he'd won . . . he was making me hurt, all over again. 'Don't –' I began coldly, but his voice cut me off with a sharp determination, entwined with an underlying, cruel amusement.

'Don't what?' his reply was cannoned back. 'It's a simple question, Suze.' Oh God, no . . . do you HEAR HIM? The way he acted! It was as if nothing had ever happened! It was vile, and EVIL! What is WRONG with him?!

'Turn around, Suze. Let me get a good look at you.'

Look at me . . .

My blood ran even colder, almost reaching the icicle stage. 'You have some nerve,' I whispered, my voice laden with bitterness and hatred. All could hear it. It was harsh, and raw.

Hail Mary, full of grace . . .

'Come on, Suze,' he beckoned me with that entrancing voice. He was like the Pied Piper or something . . . playing on his stupid pipe leading me around the town like a stupid rat. I hate annoying pipe music. I hate rats. I hate poetry.

'It's been forever since we've seen each other. At least turn and look at me. I won't bite,' Paul promised.

Yeah that's right you won't. I swear if you come another inch closer to me, I'll make sure you won't have any teeth to bite me with. Who do you think you are . . . Justin frigging Timberlake, or something? Ha . . . if I only had the nerve to say any of this to him. But no . . . I felt like I was going to start shaking. Quivering like a little girl in the face of a huge threatening dog . . . with huge teeth. But that's all I still was, wasn't it? I was a little girl. Young at heart. I had grown up, physically maybe. But emotionally, I was still shielding myself from the cruel, heartless world behind a mature, collected face. I was still the girl that I'd left back home. And now, I'd found her again. I was picking right up from where I left off.

I just didn't want this picking up to involve Paul Slater, you know?

'I have every right to do 'this'. We are not on speaking terms by any means, Paul,' I said as I closed my eyes tightly. When I didn't hear any footsteps behind me I added, 'Go away.'

'Suze,' Paul said my name with, I'm sorry to report, a certain edge that hacked into me. 'We're adults now. No more silly games, okay?'

Okay, that really set me off. It infuriated me that this was all just a silly game to him. Five years down the drain, and it was all a stupid game? What did that make me? A little game-piece or something, controlled by Paul?

I turned around in my anger and said, 'Silly games? You think THIS is . . . '

Whoa. I mean it . . . whoa. It was hard to believe that this . . . this man standing in front of me used to be someone that I feared and loathed with every inch of my body five years ago. He looked older, more mature, very confident in his ways. But he still had that power-hungry gleam in his eye, ready to take anything and everything he wanted. He was dressed to the nines with this dark colored suit, holding a briefcase (!) by his side. He no longer had that perfect head of brown curls. His hair was now styled with such professional perfection so typical of Paul. On his chin, there was a small patch of hair . . . a little goatee if you will. But it wasn't tacky or anything. It made him look . . . hot. No, hot is not the word. Definitely not hot. Hot can't even compare to Paul Slater. His whole demeanor was radiating with a darkness that appealed to me so greatly. I couldn't see into him. His eyes masked his mind, and it was impossible to deduce if he'd changed, or what his intentions were. It all felt different . . . but five years was a long time for someone to try and remember something.

Although, everything about Paul seemed to be burnt into my mind, painfully.

But holy crap.

I couldn't help but stare at this . . . at this divine creature standing right in front of my eyes. Or is divine still not enough? Mother Mary was probably sobbing now for my impure thoughts.

'What were you saying?' Paul asked with a smile so white that it stood out in the dark Church. He still had that charming smile. I'm shocked no one punched it out yet. You'd think, by now, someone would have realized what a creep he was. I mean, he may SEEM like a normal hottie by day but at night he was . . .

Um . . . yeah, I didn't really want to think about that. Ew.

'I . . . um . . . I said that . . . ' I trailed off in awe. My lips had suddenly gone dry, so I licked them only to find that my whole mouth was as dry as the Sahara Desert . . . licking them was useless. I guess that could also explain why no words were escaping my mouth. Something was happening to me, and from what I guessed, it wasn't all that great. My heart was going in slow motion thudding painfully in my chest. My face was burning hot, while the rest of my body was ice cold. My throat began to tickle, while my stomach was twisting in a painful jolt.

'Never mind, then,' Paul dismissed the subject as a king would dismiss a servant. With superiority, and apathy. 'Jack said you were going to the Mass today. Have you changed your mind?'

'Um . . . '

I just stared at him. I couldn't possibly say anything to him . . . not when my mouth was so dry and my throat developed such a huge lump in it. I came up with one simple conclusion to why my body was deciding betray me. I hate him. I hate his perfect little guts. Not even his new charming look could draw me away from that small little fact. The memories were just too strong . . . too terrible.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

'What ARE you?' I yelled at him as I struggled to push him off me. 'Get off me! NOW!'

'This is important,' he warned me through gritted teeth, 'So you better hear me out.'

'No, get off—,'

'Back then I cared for you,' he reminded me. 'But now I . . . I love you.'

'Don't,' I pleaded. 'Please . . . '

'Yes, Susannah Simon, I love you,' he proclaimed loudly, making sure it echoed back to me a few times. Sometimes I just hate Mother Nature. Stupid echo effect . . .

'That's what HE said,' I choked, 'And . . . he left. And you're going too, and . . . NO.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

'You okay, Suze? You look a little pale,' Paul's amused drawl dragged me away from my thoughts. He was obviously enjoying this . . . way more than I was. There was something hidden beneath his face. Something he wasn't letting reach the surface. It was secretive, and dark. He had that stupid smirk on his face that seemed to say, 'Ha ha, I've got you now little Susie'. As if!

'Shut up,' I tell him venomously. 'What the hell are you doing in here? The Church is holy ground. You don't deserve to be here. Get out.'

'Suze . . . what happened . . . that was so long ago,' he told me. Well DUH . . . I could've told you THAT. Lookee who's Mr. Obvious. 'It's done . . . over with. We were young and . . . and hormonal. Let it go.'

Let it go? LET IT GO? Five years standing alone . . . on my own, without anyone . . . and he just expects me to LET IT GO? Well, guess what? I'll never let go, Paul . . . I'll never let go!

'You'd like that, wouldn't you?' I asked him viciously.

Paul frowned a bit, and straightened his tie. A TIE FOR GOD'S SAKE. And not just any tie . . . it was one of those high-class Burberry ties. And what did I have back at home? An ugly green Starbucks apron. With coffee stains.

Hell . . . I still reeked of coffee.

'Why the hell are you wearing . . . well, that?' I asked. I couldn't very well call it rags or ugly or anything. Because the suit he was wearing was neither of those my friends. He always seemed to have a certain flair for all things fashionable . . . even when he was a despicable teenager. His taste in clothes, sadly, had possibly even become better over the years. Very unfortunate indeed for me, because nothing is better than a hot man with great taste. Do you hear something? Tears shedding? Oh great.

'Just got back from work,' Paul said with a grin. Work . . . hah, very funny. 'I'm an intern for a prestigious law firm while I'm finishing law school.' My eyebrows shot up. Waaaay up.

'Law school? What, you found a job to suit you, did you?' I asked incredulously, shaking my head and the irony. 'Someone that keeps terrible people from where they belong. Why does that not surprise me?'

It would have been funny if Paul went, 'I object, your honor!' or something, but I had a feeling he was not going to try to be funny. Of course, something was obviously funny for him because he was smiling at me. I just insulted him and he SMILED AT ME. I might as well be punching a 400-pound man in the beer gut.

'What have you been doing with your life?' he breezed, totally ignoring my blow. A look of such arrogance was plastered across his flawless features. Oh, they had been beautiful before, but now . . . everything was older, and grown into and everything. Such dark perfection . . . so off limits.

My cheeks began flushing as I replied, 'None of your business.' I tried to move . . . to run away, but I couldn't. My brain kept shouting at my legs to pick up and move, but they didn't obey. My body began to take over and do its own thing. The little guy in the rolly chair that controlled my brain took a coffee break. At Starbucks probably. After all, Starbucks was the "premier purveyor of the finest coffee in the world", right?

He asked me again, 'What do you do?' It felt like he could hear what I was thinking . . . but not from any shifter powers he may have possessed. No, he was linked to my mind on a whole different level. A level that sent clenching shivers rallying up my poor, victimized spine.

'Um . . . me?' I asked as I swallowed hard. He couldn't know that I worked at Starbucks. He just couldn't. Not when he was an intern at a LAW FIRM. That would be saying that he won . . . again. I am not one to admit defeat. And I'm certainly not one to present the evidence against me case.

He'd totally appreciate the lawyer references, right? Oh, go team.

'Is there anyone else here that I don't know about?' Paul asked as he scanned the chapel. When he didn't find anyone, he looked back at me sharply. I had to come up with a pretty good lie. But everyone knows I can't lie very well. I'm terrible at it. But Paul Slater just could NOT know what I really did. COULD NOT!

'I'm um . . . a secretary in a very highly paid position at a . . . fashion thingie,' I told him. He didn't seem to buy that though, so I added, 'Did I mention it was highly paid?'

'Fashion thingie . . . Interesting,' Paul said as he nodded his head. 'Wow. I'm impressed.'

'Well you should be,' I told him as I placed my hands on my hips, 'because you'll be seeing my name in lights soon. Or on . . . um, clothing labels or something. Oh wait, I'm secretary, aren't I? Well . . . uh . . . '

'What's your major?' Paul asked with a grin. Gosh, that is such a typical line. Almost as bad as 'What's you sign?' except not as obvious or stupid.

'Psychology,' I replied as I narrowed my eyes, 'Not like you care.'

Have you ever said something to someone, hoping that it was true? Well, that was pretty much how I felt then. I told him he didn't care because I really didn't want him to. I wanted him to just breeze on by as if I were nothing. Which is what I was . . . nothing, no one at all. I wanted him to leave because at the time, I really couldn't muster myself to do so. There was an awkward silence that ensued . . . but I just left it. Maybe if he figured I hadn't gotten anymore interesting over the past five years, maybe he would just go away.

Maybe that was a little too much to ask for.

'Wow. Haven't been here in awhile,' Paul noticed as he looked around the old chapel. 'Hasn't changed, has it?'

'Some things don't change, Paul,' I told him coldly.

He let out an exasperated sigh. 'Suze . . . '

'What?' I demanded. Further proof that he hasn't changed. He still thinks he can try to reason me.

'I've moved on,' he told me as he took a step closer, 'Why can't you?'

See? See what I mean? I shouldn't have to keep convincing you of what a jerk he is. I just have to keep convincing myself . . . ((INSERT FLASHBACK AT HOSPITAL))

I didn't say anything to Paul for awhile. I couldn't. Of course he was able to move on. He wasn't left all alone and scared in a hospital now was he? He wasn't promised anything, only having it taken away from his grasp.

'Don't make this hard on me, please,' he rolled his eyes.

How . . .how did he do that? See me, in this limbo that I forever lived in, and then turn the tables and make it seem like it was really HIM suffering? How could anyone endure the burden on knowing that they were denying another the compassion that they needed? It just wasn't human nature, how he was acting. So cold. Cold, like ice.

'Yeah, well I wasn't the one who ruined YOUR life now was I?' I hissed, still shivering at the chill that was caressing me frostily.

Paul was silent . . . he even looked away. I actually got him to shut up for once, which was quite an accomplishment. But . . . then why did it make me feel so bad? Oh wait, I have a conscience.

'Hard on you?' My whisper still filled the empty chapel with a vehement silence. My mouth was hanging open a small way. I just couldn't believe him. That he could still try and turn everything on me, and expect me to feel sorry for him. AND I WAS! That was what he was making me think! That he deserved my sympathy! FOR WHAT, GOD DAMN IT?! I doubt that HE was living the hard-knock life, with his feisty friends over at his prissy princess Law School. 'How could you THINK I even cared about you after EVERYTHING?' I demanded, when again, I found myself trapped in another memory, and screaming to run away –

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

'I'm not going to leave you,' Paul promised, as he lowered his voice to a peaceful calm. For a second there, he almost sounded believable. Note how I said ALMOST.

'You say that,' I started to sob, 'But you don't mean it. No one EVER means it.'

Paul raised his right hand and slapped me across the face with it. It burned my cheek for a few seconds after, but I didn't let it bother me. I've felt worse pain emotionally.

'Don't you ever say that,' he growled at me, and I could feel it shudder throughout his body. It was still conveniently on top of mine.

'Love isn't real,' I told him viciously, my teeth gritted as I battled to fight the surging emotions that were possessing me, 'It's not REAL.'

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

'You're nothing,' I murmured, essentially to myself. 'Nothing . . . '

That was something I've wanted to tell him for the past five years. That he meant nothing to me. But I had to convince myself of it before I could shout it out to him. That's why it only came out in a lowly whisper.

Paul's eyes were no longer on me; instead they were fixed on the ground. He mumbled something quite inaudible so I asked, 'What did you say?'

'It took me awhile to get over it too,' he said, this time just a little louder but still on the soft side. He looked back up at me, his ice blue eyes pleading.

I blinked up at him and then shuffled a bit. I was at a total loss for words again. I looked around the chapel . . . anywhere other than meeting Paul's eyes.

He looked down again and said, 'I can admit that it troubled me. But I got over it. Except . . . well, its hard to run away when it keeps being shoved in my face.'

'What?' I asked defensively, a wave of fresh fury splashing down, 'I haven't been NEAR you. God no –'

'I know,' Paul interrupted, his voice so low I could barely hear him. He may have known but I don't think I'd ever understand him.

'Well, what do you mean?'

We were now on either side of the aisle, walking down it. The chapel was not a big place, let me tell you, so there wasn't very far to walk. We stopped walking once we reached the altar, and Paul turned to face me.

'You haven't changed a bit, Suze,' he talked down to me since he was still taller than I was. 'You still want to believe what you want to believe. Open your eyes.'

I turned on my heel to face him and said, 'I don't get you. I never have. You're, like, ungettable. Uh . . . in the, um, understanding sense, I mean.'

Why was I rambling on like that? Why was my face so hot, when everything else felt so cold? My nerves were completely fried, especially as Paul took a step closer to me. I tried to move backwards, but my feet were cemented to the ground.

'Suze,' he said my name with such calm that it could put a baby to sleep. Permanently. 'You can't keep living in the past.'

'I . . . I live where I live,' I spluttered. 'It suits me.'

'Does it?' he questioned, eyebrows high and smile crooked. 'Or has it made you miserable? Don't lie, Susie. It's a sin.'

He had me trapped. I was right where he wanted me to be. In between the lies I've told myself, and the not-so-pleasant truth that advanced on me, stalking me and watching me from the shadows.

Where does he get off?!

'I thought that maybe those old feelings would be anchored by now. I was hoping that maybe . . . ' he paused, smiling in a sickly amused way that felt like a whip crack on my burdened back, 'Maybe we could be friends. Or maybe we could learn to tolerate each other. But Suze, it's hard when you keep being bitter about it.'

He was not serious.

'It,' I laughed bitterly, 'You keep calling it 'it'. Tell me, Paul, what was this 'it' that you did? Tell me in detail. I want YOU to remember. I want YOU to decide whether I should be over something like THAT.'

'Suze,' he pleaded as he looked away, 'don't. I don't want to look back.'

Just as I thought. The bastard didn't even want to look back. It was okay for ME to feel bad about something, but when it was HIS turn, he tried to run away. Freaking coward . . .

I finally had him where he always had me. Locked down, feeling lower than dirt. I grinned at him. 'I want you to. You need to understand. And if you ever do, you're going to get a rude awakening. Because when you do, that's when you'll feel. Ha, feel. Real human emotion. Yeah, that'll be a shocker.'

He shot me a dirty look and spat, 'Fine. You want to go strolling down Memory Lane?' I felt the fire in his voice . . . the same fire that somehow managed to freeze my heart and mind. The only things that the fire burned were the emotions inside of me.

'Yeah,' I replied with a dirty look of my own. 'You need some exercise . . . or exorcising I should say.'

Paul swiftly turned us around so our backs were facing the altar. He placed his arm over my shoulder and we began strolling down the aisle slowly. I felt horribly numb. Like this was just another memory, a nightmare. I couldn't come to terms with the fact that Paul Slater had the nerve to make physical contact.

'It, happened that one night . . . a beautiful night in Carmel, California,' he started his story off. 'One special enough to share with a special girl. I knew a girl that qualified . . . so I invited her to come enjoy it with me.'

I began to blush a little bit. I looked away so that maybe I could hide it. Not that I really could. I can't seem to get anything past this guy.

'So we went to Big Sur,' he continued with that same amused grin he sprouted when he set eyes on me again, 'a very nice place, especially at sunset. We laughed, we fought, we kissed, we fought, I trapped the stubborn girl in my car, we got out of the car, we fought, we kissed, more fighting, more kissing . . . well, it's just like The Never Ending Story, really. Except with trips to Shadowland and the hospital.'

. . . Oh God. When he put it that way, it just seemed like everything really was my fault . . . Maybe it was? Maybe I've been blaming Paul for so long, that I really should have shifted all the blame a little closer to home? I'm so terrible. I deserve to feel this hurt, don't? I? Go on, say it. I deserve it. All of it. I'd kissed him back . . . because Jesse had gone. I was scared, and lonely again. So I went to him . . . I always ran back to him . . . all the time. But it was no excuse. Shit . . . this really WAS all of my fault . . .

'That's enough of Memory Lane, I think,' I said as I stopped in the middle of the aisle, Paul's arm still around me. I really wanted to push his arm off and rip it out of its socket brutally – with as little bloodshed as possible so I wouldn't get anything on my clothes - but my body was still betraying me. Traitorous arms, I'll get 'em chopped off, next opportunity.

'Oh really?' Paul asked snidely. 'But you've called it home for so long –'

'Shut up,' I told him softly, my eyes suddenly becoming sore. I would not cry, I told myself. Not in front of Paul Slater. Never . . .

'Well?' Paul asked as he used the arm that was not around my shoulder to turn my face towards his. 'Do you want to continue the story?'

It's already playing in my mind, I wanted to tell him. It has for a very long time . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

'Get off me!' I shrieked again. I wanted to get away . . . I wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

'Suze,' Paul's voice said as it regained its softness, 'I really do.'

Paul Slater, by God, if you knew what was best for you, you wouldn't say that to me. Not when it's just a big fat lie. I promise that you'll probably break . . . a false hope that will only leave me burned in the end.

'Get off me NOW!' I shouted. 'You don't mean it. He said that too. He didn't mean it either. And now he's gone'

'How the hell do you know?' Paul snarled, striking me with fear.

'Because I KNOW!' I shouted as I gasped to keep away the tears. He was crushing me, and the rocks on the paved road were sinking into my back. But that wasn't the real reason I was crying.

'That's not good enough,' he said as he grabbed my shoulders and shook me, allowing temporary relief from the rocks.

'You can't love me,' I said as tears began to gather in my eyes, 'I'm just Suze.'

JUST SUZE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..

When I didn't say anything, Paul dropped his hands and went to go sit on a pew. I looked blankly ahead for awhile until I remembered that this was reality, so I followed suit and sat next to him.

He placed his hand on mine and said, 'Isn't Memory Lane a terrible place to live?'

I nodded dumbly, still facing forward, not wanting to look at him. I could actually imagine Memory Lane as a small block with only one lonely house on it, located at the top of a hill. It would be a dark house, rather run- down and tired looking . . . said to be haunted. And the owner of the house? A cold-hearted old lady who had a terrible life, so she has to make other people's lives miserable.

'But you have a choice,' he reminded me as he squeezed my hand, 'You can move out. Any time.'

I shook my head miserably. I didn't think I could. I began breathing deeply, hoping that each breath could cleanse me from everything. No, the old lady keeper of the house on Memory Lane cruelly locked me in the basement. I came in, but I could never leave.

'You can,' he assured me as he turned to face me. 'It takes awhile. Maybe . . . maybe if we remember one last time, we can let it go.'

I took a deep breath and looked at him. I was staring my past straight in the eye. Paul was a good friend with the old lady. He had been in the dark, creepy house too. But he had the key out of there. But the key to getting out was forgetting what happened. It was a little painful, but I closed my eyes and remembered . . . for the sake of forgetting.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..

I moaned in frustration. 'Just . . . GET . . . off . . . ME! Please!' I shrieked as I struggled under him.

But I can guarantee you that I stopped struggling, when all of a sudden he pressed his body against mine and kissed me, pushing me deeply into the road beneath us. And I didn't even hesitate to respond. Oh, respond I did . . . more than that even. This kiss seemed to blow all of the other ones he gave me out of the water.

Being crushed into the road under a well-built eighteen-year-old while trying to kiss them was really hard. I was panting for air. He took that as a hint and he supported the back of my head with his hand, allowing me to get in a quick catch-breath. For some reason, my head was throbbing. I didn't know if it was because the lack of oxygen, or if it was just the intensity of the kiss. Either of the explanations fit, but it was mostly the latter.

Then all of a sudden he pried his lips off of mine long enough to whisper, 'Now do you get it? I love you.'

'You . . . you say that you do,' I breathed heavily, 'But . . . '

I didn't get to continue what I was going to say, because he decided to continue kissing me. Heck, I even forgot what I was going to say to him. His kiss seemed to say 'No buts, Suze' and mine seemed to answer 'Fine by me'.

I was getting so involved in this kiss that I was kissing back with a force equal to, if not greater than Paul's was. I found one of my arms behind his neck, while the other one was entangled in his head full of perfectly silken curls.

'Paul don't . . . ' I pleaded but then trailed off as I began kissing him, again and again. I couldn't see why I was trying to get him to stop especially when I was the one kissing him now. His hands began wandering now, which was surprising since they had been numb a while back since I made him sit on them for so long, due to my mistrust of him.

I can't very well tell you lies. And I would be lying to you if I told you that I hated every minute of it. And since I'm no liar, I'll just flat out say . . . I loved Paul's kisses so, so much. The rough pavement kind of poked me through Paul's brown leather coat, which he had offered me earlier because I was cold . . . but it somehow didn't matter. Maybe it would have bothered me if it were my expensive leather coat and not his. Why was I thinking of cow skin at a moment like this?

'I can't . . . ' I tried telling him, 'This isn't . . . '

I was trying to tell him that I couldn't do this. It wasn't real. Sure Paul felt something for me, and I felt something back . . . but it wasn't love. What Jesse and I had . . . that was love. But . . . was it? After all, if it were love, then why wouldn't Jesse agree to come with me? Why would he hurt me like that? Suddenly I became so scared . . . scared that those words that Jesse had said to me so many times were wrong. And now Paul was going to do the same thing.

'Paul,' I breathed as I managed to wrestle my lips from his for a few seconds. 'Don't make me feel this again. I . . . I don't want to . . . be hurt anymore.'

Paul's icy blue eyes looked deep into mine, penetrating me. 'I won't,' he promised in barely a whisper. And then he continued kissing me, sealing this covenant. We stopped when we felt a few drops of rain sprinkle down on us. I relaxed and lay back down, gathering my air. My head was throbbing and my heart was pounding in my chest. I closed my eyes and soaked it up like a sponge.

'It's raining,' Mr. Obvious stated as he made himself a human umbrella for me. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. It all hit me right then and there what I just did. I felt so cold . . . so terrible. My stomach churned in self-disgust.

'I . . . I have to go home,' I told him, my breath shuddering. 'Andy had dinner ready hours ago, and I didn't tell anyone I was coming out here. Andy's a great cook and I don't want to miss out, and neither does our dog, Max. He eats the stuff I accidentally drop, you know. And mom's probably worried sick, and what if Jesse came back and I wasn't there and . . . '

It was useless trying to explain myself. And not just because I'm not that great at coming up with excuses. I'd be better at them if people didn't keep on interrupting me with earth shattering kisses. I really do mean earth shattering . . . I could feel the world as I knew it falling to pieces as the rain fell on me.

Us.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

'Suze?' Paul asked, drawing me away again from my thoughts yet again.

I realized that he had been trying to say something for awhile. I'd been staring, with what was probably a really half-witted expression on my face, at nothing again. 'Sorry . . . what?' I asked as I licked my dry lips.

'If it hurts too much,' he repeated, looking all mysterious, 'then we don't have to look back. We can stay a day ahead of yesterday. We can look ahead.'

I felt my breathing quicken as my heart sped up. Was he asking me to . . . be his friend? Oh, God . . . We were never really friends to begin with. When he stepped into my life, everything went dangerously fast. Things were slowing down when he exited my life . . . for what I thought would be for good. But the question was . . . which life did I like better? Was I ready to be his friend? Could I ever do that? I stood up quickly, too afraid to confront those biting questions now.

'I um . . . I gotta go,' I told him as I headed for the exit of the small chapel. But I couldn't escape Paul Slater because he gripped my upper arm and said, 'Suze wait.'

I could never escape Paul Slater. He haunted me, still.

By then I was feeling rather dizzy with confusion. Why did he have to be here? I completely forgot about my bad luck. Of course he'd be there . . . how could I have been so stupid? Why did I feel so horribly low? Like my spirit had been banished? Where was my passion to live? Where had it gone? Why did I feel like dry, frozen ice? Why was Paul doing this?! HOW COULD HE?!

'Please?' He twirled me around to face him and I could feel my hair swishing gently at my arms. Ice. That's what I felt like. That's what was glaring at me. Irises composed of freezing ice. Dry ice . . . the kind that could, as Doc once told me, give me instant frostbite if I touched it for more than a few seconds.

'No . . . not now,' I managed to say though my whole mouth was dry. I had no idea why I was reacting like this. It was like my immune system was kicking in, trying its hardest to kill off this virus. But viruses never quite leave the body, but they can be dormant for a long time . . . months, even years.

I could tell Paul was getting really annoyed by the way he asked, 'If not here, then when?' Never . . . that's what I wanted to tell him.

I stared at him blankly . . . really not knowing what to say. Coming back home was a bittersweet experience for me. It was comfortable and right . . . a place I loved. But the memories were so haunting. When I first stepped foot back home, I thought that they were gone. They were finally dying. Paul Slater showing up . . . well, he began feeding them again. And now they still alive inside of me.

You can go strolling down Memory Lane whenever you like . . . but you can never leave . . .

'You wanted to remember,' Paul said flatly, with an insouciant shrug. He still had a hold on my arm, so I really couldn't go anywhere. I couldn't run away. After so long of running, I was now trapped. And, by the very person that I had been running from . . .

'I wanted YOU to remember,' I corrected him, 'not me. I remember everyday. Every. Single. Day.' There was a horribly sharp bite in my tone. I could feel it cutting the air. But not Paul. I could never touch Paul, in the torturing ways that I wanted to. He had a shield against me.

'Why?' he asked me. Oh, like he didn't know. He was there . . . he HAD to know.

I blinked at him, trying to think of a way to answer that question without divulging the information that I knew he could never discover, when with the force of a billion liters of water, the truth crushed me from within and came flooding out in a toxic babble.

'Because I'm constantly thinking, what if I'd done something different? Would things have changed any? Was I supposed to feel like this all the time? Like I was a nobody, with no one that really cared about me? Because I feel that. I feel like that every minute. And that's what I've become. A nobody. I'm a stupid waitress with no life and—'

I think there's this magical button on me somewhere that if you push it, I will start babbling beyond control. And Paul wasn't just lightly tapping it . . . he was pounding it with all his strength. I stood there, horrified with myself that I had accidentally revealed how weak I was. I basically told Paul Slater that my life was worth nothing. That if I just, you know, wasn't here tomorrow, it totally would not affect a single person. All because of him . . .

'Suze, I don't get it,' Paul said as he shook his head. 'I thought you were –'

It was me . . . I was the old lady. The keeper of the house on Memory Lane. The house was haunted . . . haunted by memories. I wasn't trapped there . . . I was living by my own free will. If anyone was trapped . . . it was Paul. He had managed to escape once . . . but could he again?

I yanked at his iron grip trying to get away. I had to leave . . . get out before it was too late.

'Wait . . . what did you think?' I asked as I stopped momentarily. Man, if he ever had any respect for me, he probably kissed it goodbye right about now. Ha, kissed it goodbye. Good one. Tell another?

'Were you lying to me? I thought you said you were a secretary –'

'What, and YOU don't lie?' I asked him sharply. 'You lied so much, from what I remember.'

'How?' he snarled as his grip tightened on my arm angrily, 'PLEASE remind me.'

'That whole love shit. And when you said that—'

'Said what?' Paul's voice echoed like thunder in the small chapel.

'That – '

That you wouldn't leave. You told me you would never leave me. That you were different. That I could trust you to be there for me . . . when other people weren't . . .

'That I, um, liked you back . . . in front of JESSE. Do you remember that, Paul? THAT was a lie. And you KNEW it.'

'I was confused,' he replied coolly. 'You see, most people don't reciprocate kisses unless they at least liked them. You must not have hated me.'

I bowed my head, ashamed of myself for being so stupid back then. I was also trying to hide my crimson cheeks in my newly formed hair cave.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I was astonished that Jesse popped into the hospital room. I thought that since he hated me and didn't want to come with me to college and all, that he would surely leave me be. But he proved me wrong . . . he came to me. And now, he was kissing me. Which isn't really a bad thing. The thing is . . . I was sore and on painkillers and my mind was buzzing about the things that Paul said. And was he here at the hospital? No, he wasn't. He took me there, and I remember that they had to sic security on him. He probably realized that I was too much for him to handle.

Back to the kissing . . . I couldn't help but feel bad. I mean, Jesse wouldn't come with me, but he was perfectly fine kissing me on hospital beds. Yeah, I see how t is. Not that I wasn't enjoying it . . . I really was. Maybe he'd change his mind.

Maybe this was all too good to be true . . .

Just then I heard the door open, and that voice that caused my heart permanent dread said, "Suze . . . are you . . . HOLY CRAP!"

Jesse was shocked, and (sadly) ended the kiss abruptly. He turned about to face Paul, and I felt myself go extremely white.

'Susannah,' Jesse said as he looked back to me suspiciously, 'What is this? Why is HE here?'

'He—'

'He what, Susannah?' Jesse asked as he hiked up the eyebrow with the scar. I was in trouble . . . I could feel the world about to tip over.

'He was the one that—'

'What did HE do?' Jesse asked again, this time glaring at Paul who looked extremely shocked.

'NOTHING!' I yelled finally. 'Paul, just leave.'

Paul tore his icy glare from Jesse and looked at me. There was a lot in that look. At first, his eyes softened but then they hardened again in anger and hurt. Paul finally spoke, 'THIS is how it's going to be . . . I told you that I—'

'What is going on, Susannah?' Jesse asked again, this time not even looking at me. He was shooting Paul a deadly glare . . . equally matched by the one Paul had on his face . . . oh my, this is not going to be pretty. I was panicking because I knew something was going to get hurt. And no, I'm not talking about Jesse breaking Paul's nose again or anything. Although, Jesse in all of his anger, probably would. I'm talking about emotional hurt . . . oh man.

'Well,' Paul said, looking straight past me, 'It was nice seeing you again, Jesse. I better go. You two carry on.'

'Paul,' I pleaded, 'What's—'

Jesse interrupted with, 'Did . . . did something happen between you two?'

Oh shit. I was dead meat. The way Jesse looked at me when he said that . . . it was terrifying. He was angry at Paul, and probably even more angry at me.

'Oh no,' Paul said as he grinned at me, 'It was nothing.'

I could tell Paul had something up his sleeve. I sent him a silent message with my brain . . . Please don't . . .

'Yeah,' Paul continued on, the grin disappearing from his face replaced by hurt, 'A big fat nothing . . . that's ALL it was.'

'Nothing happened,' I said defensively, 'We just, um, bumped into each other at Church . . . yeah.'

'Church . . . that's funny,' Paul said with a sick laugh, 'Is that what she told you, Jesse?'

DON'T YOU DARE PAUL SLATER..DON'T DO IT!

'Ignore him, Jesse,' I said, glaring at Paul viciously, 'he's being a dick. He's lying.'

'I'M lying?' Paul asked innocently.

I couldn't feel my stomach anymore . . . I couldn't fell anything anymore.

'Well,' Paul said, that evil grin reappearing on his face. He went so much deeper than evil, though. It was past cruelty. Past everything I could have expected from him. 'If that's how you feel, then can I have my jacket back? The one I let you borrow at Big Sur?'

No . . . no.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Paul reached out, and with his free hand, he pushed my hair behind my ears. 'I'm sorry things went down the way they did,' he apologized softly.

'No you're not.'

'Yes. I am,' he told me. 'We were young . . . we didn't know handle it, so it got blown out of proportion.'

'Well I guess I'm still young, aren't I? I STILL don't know how to handle it, right? That's what you were going to say. Yeah . . . I thought so.' I refused to look at him. I refused to acknowledge his presence . . . or the fact that we were breathing the same air. Oh my, I'm breathing air that might have already been in his lungs, AGH!

'If I was such a liar, then how come you can go around thinking that you know me?' Paul asked as he dropped my arm suddenly.

'W-what do you mean?' I asked him. No wonder things never worked out between us. We were never on the same page . . . we never knew what the other was saying.

'You think you've got me all figured out, don't you?'

'I know enough,' I told him, 'I don't want to know the rest, by any means.'

'Yeah right,' he said with a sarcastic chuckle. 'What do you know about Paul Slater, then?'

I stared at him in outrage, as whirring thoughts buzzed relentlessly through my head . . . and they weren't exactly about his vices, either. I'm wicked, I know. Burnt me at the stake, please?

'I - I'm going,' I spluttered, as I turned to walk away. I so could not handle this. I couldn't take the heat, so I had to get out of the kitchen before I got myself burned . . .

Walk away, Suze . . . Run. Flee. Escape. Get out! First from New York, then Carmel, then Massachusetts, and now flee from home again . . . My life was a marathon that I'd never win. But I had to keep running, or things could catch up to me and drag me back down to the bottom. A place where I could not afford to be.

'I knew it.'

I stopped. 'What?'

'You don't know half as much as you pretend to,' he said with a complacent grin. 'But then again, that's all you do. Pretend.'

There he goes again with the button mashing . . .

In fury, I exploded at him, 'I know that you're . . . that you're an obsessive winner! You can't stand losing! I know that you get angry easily, that you don't care what- or who- you hurt, as long as everything's good for YOU in the end! You're cynical, you don't trust people enough, you had a stupid prejudice against Jesse, and you used to like me . . . which was REALLY weird and . . . AND I DON'T PRETEND!'

He just glared at me in response.

'What?' I asked indignantly. 'Why are you looking at me like that? See? CYNICAL!'

'What else are you going to say?' he asked through gritted teeth, 'That I don't have feelings? That I'm heartless? I know what you're thinking and . . . you're wrong.'

'No, I'm not,' I told him. 'And I really don't think you've changed, either.'

'I haven't?' Paul asked with surprise, his eyes riveted on me.

'Sure you're dressed up in some fancy suit, got yourself some flashy job, and you're hair's really cute- um, different, but you haven't changed,' I snapped dirtily. 'You're the same in every depraved way.'

His expression merged gradually from an angry one, to a darkly amused face. It looked like a mask . . . Except for his eyes. They weren't hollow like I would have liked them to be. If they were hollow, they would harbor no emotion. No, Paul was feeling something.

Enjoyment. He enjoyed making me remember this . . . endure the pain all over again, after so long of running.

'So I'm the same Paul Slater,' he said with his trademark grin. 'The one that threatens you by backing you up into walls, only so he can talk to you?' he took a step closer with a certain confidence that I remembered so well. Only now, it proclaimed even more dominance. My face flushed furiously, and my heart, always the victim of this terrible and merciless game, gave a horrible lurch. 'One that makes you feel so bad, and yet so good at the same time?' he took another step closer. I stepped back in sequence, trying to find a way to get away from him. He took yet another step closer as he said, 'One that tells it like it is, even though you don't want to hear it?'

He didn't tell it like it was. He told it however the hell he wanted it to be. I moved back toward the door, wondering where the hell Father Dominic was.

'The one you pretend to hate?'

'I . . . I don't pretend,' I whispered, mainly to myself.

'You keep telling yourself that, and maybe one day you'll believe it,' he told me venomously. I looked away sharply. He was being so harsh . . . he'd grown up. He was a man now, and he took no crap.

Time . . . Time is the worst enemy . . .

I eyed the door next to me . . . trying to find an opportunity to get out. This had to stop . . . I couldn't have him cornering me again. And not just in the physical sense. He toyed with my mind, and oh how he loved to do so.

He was cutting open the wounds that had taken so long to heal, with a white hot knife. It was killing me to remember. He stood above me, looking down at me, as he always did. As if I were inferior to him. And right now, I felt it profoundly. That I was now the one who stood in the dark, lonely shadows.

'If you refuse to see that I've changed, then maybe I won't,' he hissed as he had me totally backed on the wall. I stumbled a bit, and I swallowed madly. Why hadn't I grown up, in this sense? Why was I still acting like a seventeen-year-old? Why had I not hardened myself? This was so not funny anymore. In every aspect, I was twenty-three years old. Every aspect, saving this one. Seeing Paul . . . I hadn't even bothered to protect myself as I'd grown up. I'd taken it for granted that he was gone.

'What?' I demanded.

'You studied psychology,' he replied bluntly, 'You should know. Or were you just pretending to learn about that, too?'

How . . . how dare he?

'I did,' I said with as much vehemence as I could muster, 'But I'm no where near advanced as to contemplate a mind as twisted as yours. So suck.'

Whoa . . . hadn't said that in a few years . . .

'Oh Suze,' Paul chuckled, resting his gaze on my hairline, and he raked in every feature of my face. I felt another chill. Like someone had just opened a door on a really windy day, and all the wind was swallowing you, bringing coldness to everything . . . 'Some things never change.'

'Yeah, you for one,' I told him as I shivered a bit. 'One and only . . . '

Oh. My. God. Did I just say that? ONE AND ONLY?! PAUL?! Oh man, I can't even control my mouth.

'What?' Paul asked as he raised his eyebrows in amusement, regarding me with a slightly nostalgic expression. I wasn't sure if I was imagining it. For some reason, I didn't think I was. It was awful, because with the very thought, I felt my heart spin and do little flip flops. You know, just at the thought of him knowing what I was thinking . . . 'Suze . . . you look like you've just been struck by lightning.' Oh my God, he knew. I could tell. His eyes were flashing wickedly. 'You feeling okay? You look . . . hot.'

I saw his eyes go thinner in amusement as my face turned peremptorily scarlet. My stomach dropped and I turned to ice, as if given the urge to cool down in honour of what he'd just said.

He enjoyed plaguing me, messing with my fragile mind. I

t was callous. Unfair. That he could manage it so effectively, and so easily. I felt like a very delicate flower, that would have been crushed with a single breath. And trust me, I'm not into the floral sensations.

So I went for fruit. Big diff, Suze. Totally.

'Peachy,' I told him, even though that was the antithesis of what I was feeling. 'But I totally hate peaches, that's the weird thing . . . Why do people say peachy, when they have nothing in common with the fruit in question?' And I was off, on my fascinating discussion of the marvelous concept of stoned fruit. Delightful, Suze. Go team.

'You're rambling again,' Paul pointed out to me. 'You seem to do that when you're nervous. Are you?'

' . . . I mean, what is with that stone in the middle? Do they call it a stoned fruit because it's smoked pot or something? Will we get stoned if we eat them? Because, trust me, no stoned fruit required if that is the case, I'm already totally – wait . . . what? I . . . no I'm not rambling!'

'Because,' he said as he took another step closer, being as close as humanly possible to me without actually touching me . . . which was kind of unnerving. Okay, TOTALLY unnerving, then! 'I can stop this at anytime you want . . . unless you like this, the old Paul, better.'

Like the old Paul better . . . oh my God . . .

'I see no difference,' I said with a gulp.

'That's because you choose to see no difference,' he said as he put his arm on the wall beside my head. My breath, again for old time's sake, caught in my throat kinda sharply. He smirked at me, knowing perfectly well that I was acting like this because of what he was doing . . . again. After so long of running and forgetting and, well, running some more?

'Remember, Suze,' he said in a susurrus voice as he tilted my chin upwards, 'There is no spoon.'

Oh my GOD.

He SO did not just go all Matrix on me, right?! Hell, where's the leather jackets, and the snazzy black glasses? Not that I wanted to see Paul in leather or anything. Imagine that . . .

I couldn't help but let out a snort, which totally broke the mood. Heck, why was I complaining? I wanted the mood broken. Moods suck. Too moody for Susie.

'Oh, whatever, Mr Anderson,' I scoffed, laughing. I really didn't want to laugh, but I couldn't help it. It was really a pretty sad joke, if you thought about it. To think, he was still sucking me into his dark maelstrom. Little things, that drew me in . . . trying to gain my trust again . . .

'Sorry . . . it just seemed appropriate,' he explained with a light chuckle and a shrug.

'Oh my God,' I sniggered, 'You're worse than I thought. You THINK you've developed a humor now.'

'So what?' Paul asked with a smile, 'Am I forgiven, or is some massive groveling in order?'

I stopped laughing instantly. No way . . . NO WAY! He was trying to TRICK ME.

'Don't even bother groveling,' I said to him bitchily, my hands on my hips. He wasn't going to make me believe that I wanted his friendship . . . no WAY. Suze Simon could survive perfectly fine without Paul Slater. Hell, she didn't know if she COULD survive WITH him.

He descended on one knee in a mockery of an apology, and said, with a wry look in his darkly pale eyes, 'I am more than sorry for everything I've done.'

I stared at him in disgust. Who did he think he was, anyway? Prince Charming, or something? Or a very bad dwarf impersonator? Is Sleazy the eighth dwarf or something?

'I don't give a shit,' I told him aloofly, staring down at him. Slater scum, yeah . . . 'Be sorry. Yay. Nothing's going to change. Why don't YOU accept something for once?'

He ignored me and took my hand in his own. A volt of electricity shot from my fingers, and up my arm. I disregarded it angrily, as he spoke, staring up at me with ice blue eyes, 'I just want you to know that, even if you won't believe me and you want me dead- though, you seem to fancy the dead more—'

'Dead?' I asked. Did he really think I was like that? That I wanted people dead? . . . God, he was off. I didn't wish anyone were dead. I really didn't. I get pissed, and furious, but no death demands, nope. I'm completely a loser. But, if he thought I was like that –

Who cared what he thought?!

'Maybe I should save you some trouble,' he said sadly as he bowed his head.

'Paul, I . . . I don't want you dead,' I groaned as I shook my head. Wait a minute . . . he was making fun of me! He said I liked dead people better, and was implying that I would go for him as a ghost! AS IF! I know that astral glow does wonders, but I never said it did miracles.

'Shut up!' I shouted furiously.

'Huh? What's that?' Paul said as he cupped his other hand around his ear, smirking, 'You don't want me dead? That has to mean SOMETHING, Suze.'

My face flushed angrily. 'Yeah, it means that I'm a decent person,' I told him coldly. 'Not everyone takes pure hatred to the ultimate, you know. I'm human remember? Unlike—'

'Are you saying that I'm not human?' Paul queried, looking up to me snobbishly. He was still on his knees, which probably hurt a lot. I should know that the chapel floor is not very plush. From that time when I got Father Dominic to exorcise me so I could go save –

. . . Never mind.

'Oh, get up,' I said as I rolled my eyes, 'You look like you're going to pop the question, for God's sake.' I groaned to myself, 'That'd be the day . . . '

'Susannah Simon . . . will you –'

'SHUT UP,' I yelled, extremely aggravated by then.

Paul stood up so that we were practically nose-to-nose.

My heart was jerked sharply on its puppetry strings. Paul was playing the role of puppeteer, playing with my emotions. Making me feel things I never wanted to feel . . . causing me to do things I would have never imagined.

'Shhhh,' he shushed me by putting his hand over my mouth, 'Suze . . . this is a church.' His eyes were dancing coldly . . . Icy . . . beautiful, but lethally freezing. His hand was warm, but they triggered such chilling reactions that I wasn't sure if my sense of feeling was functioning formerly. My very blood seemed to turn to ice in my veins.

I swallowed hard. Oh statue of Virgin Mary that is glaring at me right now . . . please help me. Please . . .

Obviously, the Virgin Mother heard my prayers, because just then the door swung open loudly, interrupting the terror that was about to happen. I was hoping it was Father Dominic or someone, but anyone would do. 'Paul? Paul, your brother Joe - no, Jack- he said you'd be here. Oh . . . hi.'

'Oh, I uh . . . uh,' Paul stuttered as he dropped his hand and turned around quickly. I jerked away from him drastically as this woman with flaming red hair eyed me suspiciously. She was really tall – almost as tall as Paul, and much taller than short ass ol' me – and she had these extreme hazel eyes. Her hair was cut into a stylish choppy bob, and it was quite obvious that it was dyed that fiery red color. It gleamed vibrantly with each flicker of the candles that lined the chapel. No way could that be natural. And she had this huge mole on her left cheek . . . ugh. She was my age, circa, with a deep bronze tan that stretched over a killer bod. The only thing was, well . . . she was REALLY thin. Like those anorexic super models you see on the Style Network. But then again, she had rather large, um . . . well, um . . . I doubted that a D cup would suffice . . . ooh, I'm horrible! But yeah, you know what I mean? And maybe it's just me, but teeny waist and big chested didn't look that normal. But each to their own?

'Paul,' she said as she crossed her arms and looked me over, an accusing waver in her lethal tone, 'Who is SHE?'

'Someone who hates my guts,' he said, kind of under his breath, which caused the red-head to raise an eyebrow.

'Um . . . hi,' I said meekly, still staring, 'I'm an old, uh, school friend – er, nemesis. Yep . . . Made Paulie's highschool years hell, that's me. Wedgies here, there and everywhere.' I shot out my hand unconfidently as I pronounced, 'I'm, er, Susannah Simon.'

She looked at my hand askance before taking it. She had that dead fish handshake, all wimpy and stuff.

'Suze, this is Danielle Moore,' Paul introduced her, bowing his head in dark mirth. 'You might've heard of her before since you work in the fashion biz.'

'Oh really?' Dani asked suddenly interested. Her bitchy facial expression homed in on me, wanting to listen. 'That's interesting. Who do you work for?'

I shot Paul a death glare. 'Um . . . nah, that's just Paul . . . always the joker . . . hehe.'

'Really? I didn't pick that up,' Dani said as she frowned. Someone should really tell her that frowning causes wrinkles. Oh, and so does sun tanning. So hah! When she's all wrinkly when she's forty, I'll be laughing.

'So,' I said, trying to save myself from total social disaster, 'Are you two, what? Colleagues?'

Paul walked, with much aplomb, over to Dani and wrapped his arm around her casually. His hand tightened on her shoulder as hard as a separate and tightened on my heart dangerously. That goofy look-who's-better-than-you- nannie-nannie-boo-boo smile crept on his face slowly as he kissed her tanned cheek, his icy, corrupt eyes flickering sideways to me momentarily. Then his lips formed the mortally scarring words that made me feel something I never saw coming:

'She's my girlfriend.'

. . .

Say . . . WHAT? That skank was his GIRLFRIEND? After chasing me around so much in the past . . . he actually got a girlfriend? Something horrible flickered through me. It was reminiscent, and dragged me further into the past. It was a feeling in my chest, funnily enough, that made me feel not worse, but lighter, only in a terrible way. So, Paul had a girlfriend. A model. Wasn't that ironic? Shows how shallow he is. Expects the best, doesn't he, Paul? Then what the hell was he doing with me? But I thought . . .

I'm not going to leave you.

SUZE! God, I couldn't STILL dwell on that! I'd made him leave. When he heard that Jesse was going to stay, he offered to change his plans and go with me. But I couldn't stand to see his face every single day, and be reminded of how he made Jesse believe that . . . that I didn't love him as much as he loved me . . . He'd hurt Jesse. No, I had. And now Paul had moved on. He was smudging it all in my face tauntingly, yelling, 'HA! I HAVE A LIFE AND YOU DON'T!'

Well . . . two can play at that game . . .

'Oh, really?' I said as I suddenly grinned at Paul slyly. 'Lucky Paulie . . . '

Paul, who was smiling, suddenly dropped his vainglorious grin. Yeah, he had a reason to . . . because I was on fire now. My fire could burn, too.

'I mean, after all those years of being such an eyesore, our Paulie finally prettied up and managed to bag himself a girl, did he? Well, hey Dani . . . good for you. And Paul? The doctor said that thing . . . you know, THAT thing? He said it would clear up soon, right? Just keep using the cream, even if you say it's too cold to rub in.'

The look on Paul's face was priceless . . . his eyes widened and his mouth was gaped open in an ambrosial fusion of shock and outrage. Who's the bitch now, sucker! You got served!

I winked evilly and said, 'Later . . . much,' as I waggled my fingers at him, poising myself confidently. I strolled out cunningly, but not before hearing a very alarmed Danielle, demanding, 'Paul . . . what thing?'