Lolly: This chapter is shorter than usual, (32 pages) as opposed to our last one which was like, 63 pages. It's late, on a school night . . . and the tone of this chapter is very numb. There's not going to be elaborate descriptions of how horrible it all is. There's only really shock, I guess.
Hehe. Hiya Nicole. Updating for you here. Otherwise, I would have probably waited till tomorrow.
Love Lolly and Hayley.
- 8 -
My piercing scream was silenced by the realization that Britain's top super-model Danielle Moore, who I more or less hated, was dead.
Dead.
I stared at her with sheer horror because not only was she naked, but her body was sprawled on the floor of the shower, thrown messily in the corner. Her once fierce hazel eyes stared blankly at her feet. Some of her wet hair stuck to her face.
With haste, I turned the shower off. By then, the water was cold . . . cold as ice. Some of it stung my arm as I reached to shut the water off. Instinctively, I went to grab the closest towel, and threw it over her.
I can't- how did this happen? The thought that she was really, truly dead seemed so inconceivable. I had to be imagining things.
Her body didn't stir from underneath the towel. No sounds came, either. Everything was just still and silent and . . . dead.
I wanted to call someone, but I couldn't find my voice. Every warm feeling I had felt earlier fled and was replaced with an unbearable coldness that took over my entire body.
I don't get it. What the hell happened? Not knowing made me dizzy, not from happiness like I had been earlier, but from a newly developed sense of paranoia that gripped my heart strings and tugged them with a pull so hard that it became difficult to breathe.
I lifted one end of the towel just to check that Dani was, in fact, dead. I guess it was a little hard for me to comprehend. She was alive just last night, yelling and being bitchy as usual. Her normally tanned skin was paling, turning a slight bluish color. She may have had a lot to say last night but . . . but now she was dead. And not saying much.
Oh God. It was real. Her lips, which were opened slightly, were kind of blue now. And those eyes haunting amber eyes just stared blankly, cutting me. And where they cut, a terrible flood of fear came pouring in.
I dropped the towel again, and another loud cry escaped from my mouth. I turned my whole body away from Dani's lifeless form. I had to keep myself from getting sick. I already felt really dizzy, which was not doing my stomach any favors. If I didn't, I would have barfed or something.
Within seconds, Paul materialized into the bathroom in an urgent red shimmer. He looked around the room with his eyes narrowed, until they fell on me.
'Where are they?' he demanded.
He was obviously under the impression that I was under another attack by the infamous Misforts. When he saw that this was not the case, he stepped closer to me and lifted my chin with a single fingertip.
I wished he didn't do that. I couldn't stand to allow myself to feel what he made me feel right then because, well, his ex-girlfriend was laying, dead, under a towel. But he had no idea. Part of me wished he didn't have to know. But its pretty hard to hide a thing like that from someone.
'Suze?' he asked the confusion highly apparent on his face, 'why did you scream?'
Silence was my only response. I couldn't find it in myself to answer Paul directly. It was something you had to see to believe. And even after seeing her body, I still couldn't believe she was truly gone. Instead, I pointed a quivering finger towards the shower.
Paul frowned in befuddlement and went over to the shower. Once he peeked in, the frown was wiped off his face and the rest of his body went completely rigid. He turned back to face me, and all I could see in his icy blues was complete horror. The rest of his face, however, was deadpan. And I think he went just about as pale as Dani.
He returned to the body and plucked the towel off. Dani's eyes remained unresponsive and still. He went to his knees and placed two fingers on Dani's neck, feeling for her pulse.
I felt so, so, so sick . . .
Paul was touching it. A dead body.
'No pulse,' he said. 'Her skin's gone blue and she's stiff . . . she's so stiff. It's – uh - rigor mortis. She's . . . cold . . . It - it had to have happened hours ago.'
It.
Another it.
But I doubt that Paul's "it" this time had nothing to do with his, um, urge to . . . do sexy things with certain people.
His observations were quiet, as if he was mumbling to himself, and they seemed so absent. Even though he was in the same room, his voice seemed a million miles from me. All of this was so, so unreal.
A set of chills ran down my spine when he said it took place hours ago. Hours ago, the world was just a happy blur to me. Hours ago, I just so happened to be sharing a lot more than just a bed with Paul Slater. Paul was Dani's boyfriend . . .
Sure, their relationship was rocky at the time, but still. I made Paul cheat on her, and now she was dead.
I tried to steady myself on my own two feet. The guilt I felt was making me feel even sicker than I already felt seeing the body.
I tried not to look at Dani as I started to chew on my fingernails nervously. I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know what to say. The silence was so scary, filled with the horrible mystery and death. It needed to end, but it didn't.
Paul looked over his shoulder at me, and I could see he was thinking exactly what I was thinking in those bright eyes of his. I didn't want to be the first to bring it up, though, because it would bring a fresh flood of guilt on both our consciences.
Mine was already over-flowing, thank-you-very-much. So much so that it might come spewing from my mouth via projectile vomit. Gross.
The thought we shared, of course, was that Dani's death was most definitely not an accident.
I mean, I had every reason to believe it was suicide.
The idea wasn't so farfetched. I studied psychology enough to know that she didn't think to highly of herself. And thanks to Jack's earlier observation, I knew that she was a miserable person. Paul was the only one who would commiserate with her. Why wouldn't she kill herself when no one else was on her side?
And besides, with her bulimia, it was like she was trying to kill herself everyday. She starved herself . . . tortured her body as life tortured her. The only way to end it was to end her life.
Paul was just kneeling in the shower still, staring at her. I could only see the back of his head. It was still messy. He was only dressed in a pair of pants and a loose cotton singlet. Normally that sight would have made me feel all uncomfortable and slightly hot. After sleeping with him, it would have made me feel giddy and attracted.
Now, I didn't feel anything. I was far too aghast.
His knees were getting wet from the water on the shower floor. He wasn't saying anything. Just kneeling in front of her. He'd pulled the towel down only just enough so that her face and neck was showing.
Oh God, her eyes . . . they just . . . stared. Blank, dead, empty, hopeless . . .
Paul wasn't moving. Like, at all. She just sat there staring, her eyes expressionless, and yet they said everything they needed to say. They told a story of someone that was tortured inwardly, someone who suffered a great amount of psychological pain. It showed true affliction of the worst variety.
All of that released a disturbance in the atmosphere. One of terror and demise. It was almost unbearable.
'Shit,' Paul mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief. His voice was barely audible, but since the room was booming with silence, I could hear him.
'Paul,' I said in what had started off as a gentle voice, but ended up as a wispy, breathy gasp. I hugged my arms into me as I continued to nibble at my nails.
Dani was dead, Dani was dead, Dani was dead, Dani was dead, Dani was dead . . . shit . . . she was – she killed herself . . . while Paul and I were –
He ignored me. No, I don't think so actually. I think he didn't hear me. Or, you know, register that someone was speaking to him.
That beautiful feeling of warmth that I'd been basking in before?
Um, that was long gone.
Now it was replaced with a seemingly irrevocable coldness that clung onto every inch of my skin like the tiniest icicles, until they crusted up enough to form a complete sheet of ice that coated me wholly. Coldness isn't something that someone can just experience physically.
It can occur anywhere . . . heart, mind . . . soul . . .
And at that point in time, I was frigid with numbed horror. I had given her a towel. I'd given Dani a towel. She was cold, though. And rigid.
And very, very dead.
Is it possible to be only a bit dead? I mean . . . you're either dead or not.
But I guess that sometimes it's hard to tell whether someone's dead or not. You walk in on an old lady in front of her roaring TV, calling out her name and meriting no reply . . . you face her and her eyes are shut. You feel her neck, and find out she's dead.
With Dani . . . you just knew by looking at her.
Dani's eyes were still staring out coldly at nothing. She held no one's gaze. Her eyes were no longer seeing. The sudden pallor of her skin was hauntingly grey. It was tinged with other colours. Her fingers, which curled from beneath the towel, were clawed.
But her eyes . . .
I looked away sharply.
'Paul,' I said, feeling so sick, 'Paul, stop it.'
Again, he didn't regard me in anyway. He just continued to look down at her. He could have at least covered her up, but he didn't. The whole sight was grossing me out, more than ever. 'Paul, please – '
'She's dead, Suze.'
'I know,' I stressed. 'Come on, get away from h – don't touch her – '
Paul, who'd lifted a shaking hand to her face again, pulled away like she was protected by a laser field. He stood up, almost slipping in the water. His bare feet had come in contact with her water.
The water that a dead body was sitting in.
God – Suze, DON'T throw up –
'What do we d – ' I broke off. Neither of us could look at each other. Our eyes only met various things around the bathroom.
Anything but each other.
And the body.
There was a void in Paul's face. His eyes closed off his thoughts from the world. They were dark, cold, empty. But at least his eyes saw. Unlike a certain pair that were no longer functioning.
The barrenness on Paul's face made me so desperately want to hear, know, and feel what he was thinking.
It was while I was numbly trying to get inside his mind that a horrid, horrid thought occurred to me.
Us.
. . . Dani probably killed herself because of us.
Me and Paul, I mean.
And with that, a violent gasp burbled from my mouth as the full impact of Dani's probably suicide hit me hard.
WE DID THIS!
'Oh my God – ' I started, as aggressive tears started trailing fast and coldly to spill from my eyes, and as my knees were about to click out of place, when Paul grabbed me around the waist, having caught my stray thought.
He stopped me from falling. 'Suze, no,' he growled. 'No. I know what you're – this had NOTHING to do with us – '
'What if she – '
'No.'
There was warmth in his hold, but it did not touch me on the level that I needed warmth the most. Suddenly, I was in a dark, cold realm of icy guilt.
She did it because Paul and me did it.
'Oh God – '
Then, the door creaked open a little, and a groggy-eyed CeeCee stepped in. 'Er, is everything okay?' she asked nervously. She was not at an angle yet to that she was in view of Dan – the body.
It must have been a pretty weird sight though, what WAS in her view. Paul holding me like I was going to collapse, and all. You know, when last time CeeCee saw, his girlfriend had just blabbed about my ever-so-lovely abuser, and she had acquired this knowledge because Paul had told HER.
Neither Paul nor I could find the words to tell her what had actually happened. We did not want her to see before we broke it to her easily. But we couldn't talk.
At least I couldn't.
'Suze – ' Paul said, supporting me more. I was gone. I was shaking, and scared. I mean – I didn't even LIKE Dani, but – HELLO? SUICIDE HERE? SCARY?
YEAH. SO SHUT UP.
CeeCee stepped into the bathroom, looking ultra concerned. 'Suze – are you – Paul, is she okay? I mean, what happened - ?'
'Don't – ' I pleaded. 'CeeCee, stay th – '
I couldn't see it. Paul was blocking it from my sight. I didn't want CeeCee to see it.
'CeeCee,' Paul said rustily, trying to make sure I wouldn't fall at the same time as talk to her, 'Dani – she's – something happened last night.'
Besides, you know, two members of the SIA unexpectedly doing the horizontal tango.
She saw Paul's sideways look at the shower, and she frowned. 'What – '
No. No, no, no, NO! STOP IN THE NAME OF THE LAW-!
Before we could stop her, she stepped forward, and looked in the shower. Her reaction was instantaneous. She screamed – one that echoed over and over again on the insides of my heart, and rattled my own fear – and fell back on her hands.
'WHAT HAPPENED?' she exploded.
. . . Yeah, um, CeeCee?
Not good in a crisis.
Paul worriedly let go of me. I just stood there uselessly, muttering under my breath. I didn't know what.
. . . Yeah, I've seen corpses before. It's not pretty. Like that time I saw Jesse's decaying corpse being dug out of my own backyard. Only, I hadn't known Jesse as person with a body. All I knew, basically, was his soul.
But this . . . this one had me. I mean, I hated Danielle Moore. But I KNEW her.
CeeCee knew her, too. Unfortunately, CeeCee didn't know of anything after death, except that it was unknown. To her, this whole thing was more shocking, more terrifying, than it ever could be for people like Paul and I.
People like what Dani used to be. No more . . .
And it was then when Jack came in.
'GET OUT!' we all yelled in distress.
He stood at the door, looking confused. 'Uh . . . I was just – I mean, no one's making breakfast, and – why's CeeCee on the floor?'
Fair question.
Here's another: Why's Dani dead in the shower, Jack?
He didn't know. None of us knew. I had an idea, but the idea was so horrifying and guilty that I couldn't bear to think it.
I could hear the very thudding in my head. It was so loud. Blood was pounding throughout my body coldly.
CeeCee was now crying in distress in a heap on the floor. I couldn't let Jack see this, but it was kind of too late. 'Get him out of here!' I yelled at her.
Jack blinked; every bit the thirteen-year-old he was. 'What?' he asked, his curiosity sounding so . . . childlike to my ears, in grotesque contrast to the reality of this situation.
CeeCee, sobbing in panic, looked at me and Paul shakily. 'W-w-we'll go make br-breakfast,' she stuttered at Jack. Wow. That was convincing.
Jack stubbornly didn't move. 'What happened?' he asked with a frown. 'Why are you all acting weird?'
CeeCee looked into my eyes, again, and a sharp spasm of something terrifying shot between us.
There was a DEAD woman in the SHOWER.
'Jack, come on, th-there's nothing wr - '
But Jack just pushed past her. He saw where she was nervously looking. 'What's in the shower - '
'NO!' I yelled at him, blasting him back with SOMETHING -
But he'd seen.
Oh, shit, he'd seen.
I'd never actually heard a thirteen year old boy scream like that before. It was something that truly twisted the heart with a ruthlessness that one would expect from the coldest hearted killer. The second Jack saw her - it, he started fell back against the wall, courtesy of my shifterness, his face white and pasty and sick.
'IS THAT DANI?' he shrilled, 'WHAT HAPPENED? WHY DON'T YOU TELL ME ANYTHI - WHY IS SHE - SHE'S ALL WHITE - '
CeeCee started crying harder, trying to get him to stand up. 'Jack, please - '
Things. Important things. Were breaking.
And dying.
Jack wouldn't move. He, beyond my extent even, was gone. So deep in his shock that after that, he couldn't say anything else, just stare in horror.
Feel ya, Jack.
Again, I turned my head and looked at it.
What is it about it that made it impossible to look away? Her dead gaze was one that locked you mercilessly in a place of death, and pain.
Don't look at it -
Cee - stop crying – Jack, move along-
SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING.
It certainly wasn't going to do anything. The body, I mean. Except for stare. And, um, be dead.
Death, to a lot of people is so final. It never was for me because, well, I see the dead after they've bit the big one. They'd continue to bug me until I did something about it. Exorcism, taking them to Shadowland, breaking into their relatives' house and taking care of THEIR business there . . . whatever it took. But now, it was final. Dani had bugged me enough when she was alive, and I had a feeling she wasn't coming back. Ever.
And yet, it didn't make me feel any better because now there wasn't anything for me to do. What was done was done. I felt helpless again. Helpless and now guilty.
Never a real morning person, a bleary-eyed and completely uninformed Adam stumbled in the bathroom and grumbled, 'What's with all the hubbub? Can't a man get a decent sleep around here?'
CeeCee immediately got to her feet, tears still streaming down her face, and pulled closed the shower curtain, hiding it from plain sight. She was trying so hard to protect Adam, the only one whose innocence remained intact. Because once you got a glimpse of what was beyond that curtain . . .
Well, everything you ever knew about life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness was just lost. I knew right then and there that none of us would ever be the same. Not even Jack, the picture of everything that was still pure, was now tainted.
'Well, good morning to you all, too,' Adam tried to joke sarcastically. 'It's so nice to see your bright cheery faces after arousing from my slumber in such a pleasant manner.'
'Adam, leave,' CeeCee warned hotly, her cheeks red and tear stained. I've never heard her use that tone with Adam before, ever. The whole situation just brought out the worst in everyone.
'God,' Adam said, all defensively, 'who died?'
Jack raised his blue eyes, which were now a dull-gray, to Adam and shook his head. I just stared past Paul at the shower curtain, which CeeCee blocked partially.
If only he knew . . .
After a second, my gaze snapped back to Paul. ' . . . What do we do?' I asked in a disgustingly inhuman voice.
Paul, who'd been previously staring into space with an unreadable expression, looked at me with a frown. 'What?'
'What do we do? I mean . . . we can't just leave it there.'
'Her.'
I looked at CeeCee. 'What do you mean?'
'Don't call her "it",' she said in a low voice.
Adam was grumpily looking in between the two of us. 'Uh . . . huh?'
'CeeCee,' I said in that same voice, 'Please - '
'Go from here,' Paul said suddenly to the four of us. 'Call de Silva, Suze. I'll . . . deal with her.'
WHAT? WHAT WAS HE GOING TO DO? HIDE THE EVIDENCE OR SOMETHING?
'What do you mean by - '
'I'm calling an ambulance,' he said in a strange voice. Just . . . it didn't sound normal. It was tight, sharp, and low. 'What did you think I meant?'
I shook my head, and shivered again. 'I'll stay,' I said after a moment.
'No,' he met my gaze with a definite streak of anger.
'Yes,' I replied determinedly, matching his look. I turned away, and called Jesse.
In a nanosecond, he was there, looking around with a light frown. 'Why all the sad faces?' he asked.
'Jesse,' I said, 'Take CeeCee, Adam and Jack out of here. Don't let them out of your sight.'
'Why?' he asked curiously.
How can you tell someone that someone committed suicide, and make it sound light? I burdened my eyes with messages that were sent directly to him.
He detected the seriousness of my intentions, and nodded slowly, briefly glancing at Paul behind me. 'We shall be in the kitchen,' he said slowly. Looking at Jack, (the only one whom he wasn't invisible to,) he said, 'Come on.'
God. It's a very tactful man who could ignore the tears in that thirteen year old's eyes in this circumstance.
Jesse and Jack led Adam and CeeCee away. CeeCee seemed almost glad to go, but Adam seemed to want to stick around to see what was going on. His slight hesitation caused CeeCee to dig her nails in his arm and drag him from the room.
My eyes followed them until they were gone from the room, and then they went straight back to Paul, who was now fumbling around for his cell phone. He dug it out of one of the pockets on his pants.
Geez, when does that guy not carry his cell phone?
But instead of dialing straight away, he looked back at the curtain distractedly.
'Aren't you going to call them, Paul?' I asked.
'I thought I told you to go with them,' he replied, in a voice that really didn't sound like him. I mean, it truly wasn't the same confident-to-the-point-of-cockiness Paul Slater I knew.
'I thought I made it clear I wasn't,' I rejoined, folding my arms across my chest. I sounded more sure of myself than I really was. Especially since I knew now was not the time to be a smart-ass.
Being a smart-ass was more appealing, however, than to join the crowd of broken toys in the kitchen. That's what they became . . . broken. We all were. Even Paul, who always used to know what to do.
But now it seemed like he didn't even know how to use a cell phone.
He eventually began to dial, but he did so reluctantly. He gave me a look and then kind of turned around, for privacy. He accidentally turned facing the curtain, so he readjusted himself so he was facing me again, but he chose to look off somewhere distant.
'Hello? We have an emergency. I need you to send an ambulance here right away.'
Paul paused, listening to the operator on the other line.
'Actually, she's dead.'
More pausing.
'The cause of death? Well, we found her this morning in the shower. She's cold and pale and . . . I think it was suicide, sir.'
That was the first time Paul had said it. And when he said it, he looked at the shower with the saddest expression in the whole world. For once in his life, Paul Slater actually looked a little vulnerable. Even while he was handling the call with the same professionalism he tried to maintain, he still had the saddest expression on his face as he continued to stare at it.
'Danielle Moore,' he said after the operator had apparently asked a series of questions, 'She's twenty-three . . . Me? Oh, I'm her b- I was a good friend of hers. Could you please just send the paramedics right away?'
The paramedic on the other line said a whole bunch of stuff. This caused Paul to start pacing around a little in frustration.
'Please,' he interrupted the operator, 'Just send the damned ambulance over. We're at the old Fortunaschwein Boarding School for Boys, 1200 Ashburn Lane in Gilroy.'
Ashburn Lane. How appropriate. Considering the history of the school and its previously unsolved attic fire. Ashes burned them. The Misforts, I mean.
A slowly numbing sensation was trickling down my body, starting from my head and branching out across my limbs painfully. Soon, I only saw Paul's mouth moving as he talked into his phone. I couldn't hear him.
I'd never been this close to suicide before. I mean . . . I've dealt with the aftermath of it, e.g. Heather Chambers, but I'd never been there RIGHT after it had happened.
I'd never seen the body of someone who had chosen to end their life, having found nothing more to live for.
Till now.
'Suze.'
I blinked, and looked up at Paul, who I realized had hung up. The expression on his face was now one that seemed to show more emotion than perhaps I'd seen before.
'I'm so sorry,' I said in a whisper to him.
He tilted his head back and looked up at the roof, no reply.
I didn't even know how to look at him. I mean, what did he need from me? Sympathy? Solace? What? What could I offer him that would make that expression go away?
He just looked so scared. That's the first time I think I'd ever seen him like that. And you know what? It scared me.
'Paul,' I said after a second, a tearful quality coming into my tone, 'Don't think about what she said. You didn't make her do that.'
Even if he did . . . who KILLS themselves because of it?
Well . . . okay.
He turned to stare at me. I wasn't sure he was even seeing me. I felt strange - you know, to be the one trying to comfort him. It was usually the other way around.
Oh God . . . oh God, I couldn't believe how wrong everything was. The world as I knew it had not only broke, but had began to disintegrate into a hellish nothing.
Just when things had started to feel so right, the impact of death came and vandalized everything that had been good.
See how death just ruins life? Ugh.
Oh my God. What if . . . what if she did it because she'd heard? Me and Paul, I mean. Last night.
What if she heard, came into this bathroom, and just . . . killed herself?
'Paul,' I said suddenly.
His gave snapped so it was exclusively on me.
'Paul, how'd she do it?' I asked shakily.
He ran his hand through his hair, as if not knowing what to do with himself. 'What do you mean?'
I started getting excited. In a sick, terrified way. 'She couldn't have cut because there's no blood . . . and there wasn't like, a syringe in the shower or anything. So how'd she do it?'
Paul appeared even more appalled. 'Suze, not now.'
'I'm serious,' I said firmly. 'There's nothing to say that it wasn't an accident - '
'So she just died?' he drawled coldly.
His tone of voice made me fall silent. 'Is there a head wound?' I asked after a second.
'I'm sure as hell not checking,' he snapped. He turned away from me. 'Go, Suze.'
'No,' I sighed.
Facing the shower curtain, and knowing what exactly lay beyond, he whipped his head around to me furiously. 'GO.'
The anger in his voice was so painful. Hurt, I took a step back from him, and lowered my gaze.
. . . Whore . . .
Without a word, I left the bathroom. Once outside, I began to wonder if that had actually happened. If I'd, you know, actually walked in on a corpse in a running shower.
Was this just a nightmare? Had I fallen asleep while I was having MY shower? Would I wake up with the water running over me?
Had I even woken up at all? Was I still in bed with Paul Slater, in that room on the third floor?
What the HELL was real? And if it wasn't real, then why was it so terrifying?
I mean . . . nightmares can seem real, right? But they don't HAVE to be.
Although, judging from the fact that I was shaking, and my head was pounding and my hair felt very clean and stuff - details that dreams tend to miss - I had a horrible feeling that my reality was a very dark, very gloomy one.
Danielle Moore was dead.
And, like the butterfly effect, that one event would sent forth a chain reaction of darkness.
8 -
When the ambulance came, and carried the body out on a stretcher covered by a white sheet – easier said than done, because she wouldn't lie flat because of the rigor mortis thing, ewwwww . . . - Adam pretty much got the idea of what had happened to Miss Moore.
And for once, the clown had no jokes to crack.
Police also came. And several reporters. God . . . I swear, I wanted to kill them. Who can DO that? Come and hound someone for a story when someone's just DIED? That's - that's cruel. Even if it was the ever-famous Danielle Moore.
. . . Well, CeeCee did that for a living, so I guess I have to take that back to some extent.
I dunno. Does a journalist do that too?
Well, they were all OVER Paul. Especially the police. The took him outside, and "talked to him."
Jack demanded to know why. 'Do they think HE did something?' he asked hotly.
'No,' I said. 'Come on, Jack. You watch all the crime shows, right? It's procedure and stuff.'
'But CeeCee said that she wasn't killed,' Jack said defensively. 'That she did it herself. So how would Paul know about it?'
I groaned. Jack had become mighty inquisitive, not to mention spastically nervous, after this whole ordeal. 'I don't know.'
We were standing in the entrance room. You know, me, Cee, Adam, Jack, and Jesse. Wow. Some SIA. Ha. Two down, six to go.
Oh, God . . . it sounded so horrifying, to think of it as a countdown . . .
It was like a horror flick gone horribly wrong. You know, where people are killed off one by one until there's no one left? Only, this wasn't some made-up movie. This was the real deal.
The front door creaked opened. 'Suzan-nuh Simuhn? Couldya come out here please?'
I looked up, alarmed. A hick-sounding police officer raised his eyebrows at me seriously.
'Why?' I asked. I mean, what could a police officer possibly want with little ol' me?
'Yeah, why?' Jack demanded, getting even more stressed out. He seemed to get more edgy by the moment, and the slightest thing made him freak out.
'I jus' need tah ask ya a few questions, ma'am,' the officer replied in his heavy Southern drawl, looking at me over the rim of his dark sunglasses.
I nodded unquestioningly at the officer and he adjusted his belt over his beer gut and gruffed, 'Right this way, miss.'
'Suze, don't go,' Jack pleaded. The look his wide blue-eyes possessed mirrored the exact fear Paul had in his own earlier. Only, apparently, Jack actually wanted me around. Paul didn't, as he made evident earlier with the whole GO AWAY thing.
'I'll be back, Jack. Hang tight,' I told him before the cop led me away. Jack didn't seem too happy about me leaving him. He mumbled something inaudible to himself and sat himself down on the bottom step of the stairwell. He stared at the floor and hugged his legs close to him in a manner that suggested that he was not only uncomfortable being there, but that his childhood, or what was left of it anyway, was now completely shattered.
I used to be quite familiar with law-enforcement when I was younger. I mean, all those times I got caught breaking and entering landed me in the back of cop cars a few times. I used to get questioned all the time. You'd think, by now, that I'd be used to it.
Only, since Paul had pointed out that I wasn't a mediator but a shifter and that I could get rid of ghosties without getting the local law sicced on me, I pretty much forgot how to handle them. I managed to avoid trouble for so long. Especially since, you know, I wasn't a minor anymore and I didn't want to get arrested. Juvvy Hall? I could handle that. Jail? Not so much. I mean, not only were there really creepy people there, but the orange jumpsuits? I'd don a nun's habit before I'd wear one of those hideous things.
Once we stopped, the policeman adjusted his belt again. I don't know why he couldn't get a decent-fitting belt, but apparently this one was too small to fit over his rather pot-bellied middle. Instead, he kept it a little loose, so it ended up sliding down to his hips, where he'd just have to re-adjust again.
I guess that's what a dozen Krispy-Kremes will do to you.
He looked at me real solemnly over the rim of his sunglasses. 'It's a damn shame what happened last night to yer friend,' he said, trying to console me.
'Er, yeah.'
I guess it was a good thing I didn't mention that Dani wasn't really what you'd call a good friend of mine. I mean, I couldn't keep my eyes off of that gun the policeman had attatched to his mis-fitted belt. So what if that made me a little paranoid?
'Well, protocol states I gotta ask this,' the cop said, this time taking off his glasses, revealing a set of squinty brown eyes, 'so here goes: do you recall anything last night? Maybe somethin' that could point us in the direction of what really happened here?'
Wow, that gun's kind of big.
'Any . . . strange noises, maybe?'
I betcha those bullets are kind of big, too. And pointy and metallic and stuff.
'Was she behavin' any differntly when ya last spoke to 'er?'
It's probably really noisy when it goes off. BOOM.
'Miss, are ya listenin' to me?'
'Sorry,' I apologized. 'It's just . . . I didn't hear anything. I mean, I never expected anything like this would happen. I don't even know what this is. I don't know what happened, quite honestly.'
'That's what I'm tryin' ta find out, ma'am,' the cop said, a little less patiently than before. The gleam caught on his gun as he adjusted his belt again. 'That's what I'm here ta find out.'
I looked away for a moment at Paul, who was off being questioned like I was. Only, he didn't seem to handle it as well as he usually would. None of his "Are you aware that Miss Simon is a minor?" coolness, or anything. He was sort of distractedly listening to the officer while looking off somewhere. I followed where his eyes landed.
The body bag. Go figure.
I heaved a shudder and looked back to the officer. 'Have they concluded anything yet? About how she did it, I mean?'
'The scene was relatively clean,' the officer said, 'and by clean, I mean they was no sign of what the cause-a death was. No foul play or nothin'.'
'You think it was a suicide,' I said flatly.
'It's hard to tell, but it could have been an overdose.'
'On drugs?' I asked, a little shocked. 'You think she was on crack or something? I never thought that she would ever-'
'Not crack,' he interrupted, placing a hand on my shoulder.
'Diet pills. I mean, you can have a reaction to those, right? Oh, heroine? Ecstasy? Weed. Probably weed, although I thought she'd always pass on grass-'
'Codeine,' he gruffed, testily.
That had me floored. It never occurred to me that Dani could have OD-ed on something. Painkillers? It opened my eyes, and suddenly I saw Danielle Moore in a completely different light.
'D-do you think it was intentional?' I asked after a while, trying not to fall over. Or barf, for that matter.
'I dunno,' the officer said, putting back on his glasses. 'I wasn't there.'
Oh yeah.
Neither was her boyfriend. He was too busy fucking me.
Another lurch of guilt made me feel really, really sick. I took a deep breath, and again looked over at Paul.
He was looking over at me, just . . . staring.
I blinked, and looked away.
I guess I knew what he was thinking. And it wasn't a very good thought.
Ha. Regrets, right Paul?
We caused this, didn't we?
One night . . . one night when something seemed kind of right in my life, it just turned out to be the wrongest thing I could ever do.
With a huge breath, I said to the police guy, 'That's all I know. Can I . . . I mean, I feel kind of sick . . . '
He nodded with slight sympathy. 'Righteo, miss. Jus' ya know, Danielle Moore'n all . . . she was one of 'em big sing'rs or sumfin' right?'
'Model,' I said absently.
Not that it mattered anymore because she was dead, but oh well.
'Hmm,' he said. 'People usually like t'know what happens ter the models 'n stuff. So what's you sayin' you was doin' here anyways?'
I sighed. 'That's confidential. Paul Slater's the only one who can answer that question, I'm sorry.'
I hated to put it all back on Paul, but I really felt like I was going to fall over or something. And besides, he'd be the only one who could properly term our little "agency".
'Righteo,' he said again with a shrug. 'I'll be askin' him then. Miss, yer'd better . . . y'know, stay in town. Just till we know it's def'netly a suicide.'
I nodded numbly, and ran my hands through my hair.
'Of course,' I said.
With a curt nod, he too wandered over to Paul.
When I got back inside, I felt like I was going to fall. CeeCee and Adam were standing there, and looked up sharply when they saw me.
'Suze!' Jack yelled. 'What happened?'
'Nothing,' I wheezed, holding my head. 'I have a headache . . . '
'Why are you walking funny?' Jack asked. 'Did the ghosts hurt you again?'
I went a hideous shade of red. 'Uhhhh . . . yeah,' I said.
What? What ELSE was I going to say to him? Oh, I just spent last night in a most blissful state, getting horizontal with your brother. How 'bout that, little Jack?
But that was kind of a mistake. Everyone's face turned the same shade of red, only in anger instead of embarrassment.
'You're not serious,' Adam said angrily. 'What did they do to you?'
'I don't want to – '
CeeCee coughed, and gave Adam a glare. You know a stop-being-curious glare. He silenced himself. Thank GOD.
Jack was staring up at me. 'What's going to happen?'
I raised my eyebrows. 'I have no frigging idea, Jack,' I laughed humorlessly.
Cee gave me a weathered look. 'We'd better make some breakfast.'
'I don't think anyone's hungry,' I said dryly. 'Except Jack.'
'I'm not,' he said in a quiet voice.
. . . Wow. That's fricking first. Jack's metabolism was at lightning speed due to the whole growing-teenager thing. I'd never seen him turn down a meal before, unless it had vegetables in it.
'We'll make some anyway,' CeeCee said with firmness. 'Come on, Suze.'
The walk to the kitchen was quiet. Once there, she started putting toast in the toaster, and looked over to me. 'So what do the cops think?'
'About what?'
'What do you think?' she asked in annoyance. 'About Dani.'
Again, I swept my hair off of my face, and tried to breathe calmly. In, and out . . . come on Suze.
'They think you or Paul killed her or something?' she asked after a moment of silence.
I gave her an empty look. She wasn't KILLED. Well, at least not by anyone but herself. 'No,' I whispered. I busied myself by taking some eggs out of the refrigerator.
'Do you have an alibi? And what about Paul? I mean, he must have heard her get out of bed to go and do it. They – '
'She wasn't in the same bed as him,' I said quickly.
CeeCee stopped.
'Oh my God,' she said after a second. 'Oh my GOD, Suze, you didn't!'
Panicky, I looked at her. 'DIDN'T WHAT?'
Her eyes were wide with a terrified excitement. 'You – you and – him – I can't believe – but I thought you – '
I had two eggs in my hand, and was bringing them over to the skillet, when her accusation caused me to accidentally send one crashing to the ground in an almighty SPLAT.
'What are you talking about?' I asked hurriedly, resting the rest of the eggs on the counter as I tried to wipe up the fallen egg. There were pieces of shell and gooey yolk everywhere.
God, this was a mess. My life was a mess. And my stupid lies were becoming all too hard to balance.
She totally knew . . . oh, shit.
'That's one hell of an alibi.'
'What is?' I played dumb. I threw away the paper towel I used to clean up and washed my hands, trying not to look at her.
'You – ' she stopped, and looked around. 'Is Jesse here?'
'No,' I said. 'Look . . . okay, we – it wasn't meant to happen, it just – you can't say a word to – '
She shook her head. 'I won't, unless it's to the cops,' she said. 'Oh, God, Suze. I can't believe – PAUL of ALL people – '
'Stop it,' I hissed. 'It's making me feel sicker. I need a Tylenol or something, I feel like crap – '
' "Suze, why are you walking funny?" ' CeeCee quoted from Jack, and giggled nervously.
'Look, SHUT UP,' I snapped at her. 'Someone just DIED. How can you – '
She kept giggling and giggling despite my constant protest for her to stop.
I mean, I did not like Dani. She was such a bitch to me. Just yesterday, I believe, she called me fat. She told me I wasn't "dream date material". And in the end, I end up screwing her boyfriend.
But I was not laughing. This wasn't some high school plot for ultimate revenge. This was something way more serious because someone was DEAD.
Probably because it was partly my fault, but still.
CeeCee shoved her hand over her mouth, still giggling. What the HELL was wrong with –
Then she just stopped. And started breathing hard.
'CeeCee?' I said slowly.
Her breathing started getting heavier and heavier, until she was actually hyperventilating. Oh my God.
Quickly, I grabbed a sealer bag out of the cubbard and opened it. 'Breathe into that,' I said quickly. 'Come on – '
She did, and she choked. That's when she started crying really, really hard.
Then I knew.
She wasn't laughing because it had been funny.
. . . She was so scared that she didn't realize what was actually happening. I think I just reminded her.
The toast was burnt.
I took it out of the toaster and threw it in the garbage. Breakfast was pretty much ruined.
'I . . . guess breakfast wasn't . . . such a good idea after all,' CeeCee sobbed.
'Come with me,' I said, grabbing her arm as she was breathing in and out of the bag, 'Get some outside air.'
We slowly walked back to the front room. Adam, who hadn't moved a centimeter from when we'd left him, snapped out of his gaze. 'What happened?' he demanded in alarm, following.
CeeCee started crying harder. She was having a panic attack. God, it was heart breaking.
'Nothing,' I said, and kicked the front door open. There, she stood outside, and continued breathing, till finally she started slowing down, looking petrified.
Adam, crushed, pulled her into a tight hug, and started shushing her.
'What happened?' he repeated, obviously believing that I was the cause of her hysteria.
'Nothing,' I stressed.
I just reminded her of what a screwed up world we woke up to.
'Are you sure?' Adam asked, his voice taking on a strange tone of frustration. 'I mean, look at her. She's freaking hysterical. What happened?'
'Nothing, dammit!' I screamed, sitting down furiously.
Paul once pointed out to me, in one of my weaker moments, that when I said something was nothing, I really meant it was something.
Well, I guess he was right. Again. Why does he always have to be right when I want him to be wrong?
Adam narrowed his eyes. If he weren't so angry-looking he probably would have made a crack like "I'm onto you, Simon" or something. But he didn't because, well, his fiancée was too busy crying into his lap while the cops surrounded the area, trying to find out how one of our co-workers ended up dead.
This was, like, an alternate reality. None of this could possibly be happening. It's, like, something that would happen on a crazy soap-opera. The powers that be wanted to oust off a character, that's all.
And they did a GRAND job of it, dontcha think?
I overheard the police telling Paul to that they'd question him again, pending autopsy report.
Autopsy . . .
Eww . . . they were going to cut her up . . . eww . . .
And then, they left, saying that they had all crime-scene information that they needed. One of the police guys said something about calling in people from "The City," because Danielle Moore was such important personnel and they needed the BEST team they could to determine her cause of death.
It was SUICIDE. God, isn't it OBVIOUS?
Jack, who was sitting at the bottom of the stairs now, was just staring out at all of us. His eyes looked blank, and older than thirteen.
Paul looked at him expressionlessly, and then at me.
And then Adam, who was still trying to calm CeeCee down, spoke up angrily. 'Suze . . . we quit.'
I turned to them. 'What?'
Adam's hands were shaking as they smoothed up and down CeeCee's arms soothingly. 'We can't do this, Suze . . . not anymore. Not with what – '
'No,' I said, 'No, you can't – '
'You're right,' Paul said to Adam in a low, quiet voice. 'You two have done more than expected. CeeCee, your research has been crucial, and – ' he stopped, and closed his eyes. 'Take Jack and go back to Carmel.'
'No!' Jack protested. 'I don't – '
CeeCee caught her breath in a shuddering sob. 'I'm staying,' she said, looking apologetically up at Adam. 'I – there's stuff that I haven't figured out y – '
'CeeCee,' Adam cut in, sounding ever so slightly on the point of hysteria, 'We're not like them. We don't see what they do – '
'That has nothing to do with what happened,' CeeCee said in a loud voice. 'Dani ki – ' a sudden, silent holding of breath traveled around the room. CeeCee changed her train of speech, 'we need to still get rid of the Misfortunates.'
'We can manage without you,' Paul said to her in a gently voice. 'It's okay if you don't want t – '
CeeCee stood up, and looked him in the eye, like the businesswoman she was. 'We're fine.'
Adam, scandalized, said nothing.
'Fine,' Paul said stiffly. 'I'll take Jack back myself.'
'I'm not leaving!' Jack snapped.
Paul rounded on him, and for the first time that morning, I saw the blatant flash of anger that gave me chills. 'This is NO PLACE for a thirteen year old!'
Jack flinched. 'I don't care.'
'Well I DO,' Paul yelled.
We were all situated in different spots around the hall. Only Adam and CeeCee stood together. Jesse, who was in the corner, was choosing to remain unbearably silent. He had not been told of what had happened to Dani. He had had to figure it out for himself from what the police officers had been saying.
His face was one so grim that I couldn't look at him.
I licked my lips, swallowed, and for a split second, remembered the toast that CeeCee and I had been cooking.
. . . Who cared if it burned? If anyone wanted breakfast, they could get it themselves . . .
8 -
Only Jack and Adam had succumbed to the terrors of their hunger. CeeCee, Paul and I had gone without food. We didn't want anything to eat. God knew we'd just puke it back up anyway.
I was in my room. For the second time in the duration of my stay at Fortunaschwein, various items of my underwear were spread across my bed. A dirty trick of Robin, Nathan and Charles, no doubt.
My fingers occasionally shook a little whenever I went to put something away. My mind felt like it wasn't transmitting proper thought, and the messages that were being sent to my body in order to act, were not reaching their destinations.
Things were so horribly wrong . . .
What had happened the night before seemed like something that was too far away to matter. Which was saying something. I mean, I hadn't ever done . . . STUFF, with anyone before. So it was a huge thing for me.
But now, Dani's death was obscuring any feelings that I might have had on the unexpected loss of my, um, virtue.
With all my clothes back in right, I sat down on my bed, and stared at the dumbwaiter across the room, and at what should have been the chandelier above me. But it had been broken.
Then I stared at the shards of a broken vase that lay on the dresser, from that night went the Misforts made me see all those horrible things.
Burnt flowers.
I was still staring when Paul came through my door.
He didn't knock. I mean, I could have been changing or something. But I guess he didn't think he had to anymore. After all, he'd seen pretty much everything of me last night, right?
. . . So long away.
I blinked, and looked up at him vacuously. He came and sat next to me on my bed, staring ahead also.
He wasn't close enough to be touching me, but just close enough to provide a source of body heat, something which I was lacking. I was freezing.
'Are you okay?' he asked.
I scratched the side of my face vaguely. 'Are you?'
'Ha,' he said with a humourless laugh. 'Not particularly.'
His hand slid over mine on my thigh, and his fingers pressed into my skin soothingly. He didn't say anything. Just held me hand like that.
I guess that was more comforting than anything that we could have said. God knows what the topic would be.
. . . It definitely wasn't going to be about our favourite Simpsons episodes or something.
A few moments after that, however, he removed his hand from mine, and lifted it up to my face, where he brushed rebel lock of hair behind my ear, and proceeded to skim oh-so-lightly over the skin of my neck, and resting on my opposite shoulder, where he gently pulled me towards him so I gently rested my head against his chest a little.
I guess he was like me, then . . . he just needed to feel that something was still real, in opposition to what was all of a sudden, happening.
This was to make sure that last night had happened.
. . . It had.
We both needed that closure.
I closed my eyes, and breathed out. 'What do we do now?'
I guess I shouldn't have said anything. I'd broken a silence that needed to remain for a longer period of time. And anyway, my question could have referred to "we" as anyone. The SIA . . . the human race . . . me and him . . .
I was asking about the SIA, then. But he didn't know that.
He didn't answer, for a second. His hand was still on my shoulder. I could feel it through the fabric of my top. Why was it, even now in the midst of death, Paul Slater's hands were still so warm?
. . . God only knows.
'The SIA, I mean,' I added.
'Hmm,' he murmured. 'Well . . . we still have a job to do.'
'Can't we just use exorcism?' I asked. 'It's efficient, and they don't even deserve the time and effort of us finding out why they are hanging ar – '
'No,' Paul said. 'We need to do it properly.'
We DID do it properly.
. . . Oh yeah. Oops, wrong "it."
The desperately needed silence set in again. It was then, that I realized . . . last night was all I had.
All we had.
I was scared of that. I was scared of what this would do to what we had. I was scared that after this, we just wouldn't have anything anymore.
I was scared.
Again, I shattered the quiet.
'It all went so wrong,' I breathed.
'I know,' he replied softly into my hair. His hand ran up and down my arm. Then, he stopped for a second, and tilted my head up to his, staring into my eyes, the ones he claimed to like so much.
His were shrouded with a dark shock.
He blinked twice. I saw again how long his eyelashes were.
He was just breathing. He didn't say anything. His lips were parted as if he wanted to, but I don't think that he had the courage to speak. I mean . . . what was there to say?
I smoothed my hand over his face, and he leant down and kissed me very briefly, before pulling away, and running his hands through his hair, staring at the dumbwaiter opposite again.
The evanescent sensation lingered on my mouth in a sweet way; a way that felt grotesquely out of place in light of everything that was happening. A dark shadow seemed to be choking everything.
Death does that, sometimes.
'Why did you stop?' I asked in a tiny voice.
He turned to look at me. This time, his face was a perfect picture of guilt. Raw, and horrible. It startled me to see. It was like seeing Dani's corpse all over again.
Guilt.
Ha. God. I'm such a fool. Just this morning, I was saying how guilty I felt about my lack of guilt.
Look at Paul and I now, huh?
It was disgusting, cruel irony.
'We shouldn't,' he told me. 'Not n – '
Alternately, he broke off by pushing me on my back, kissing me.
. . . Just needing to feel . . .
Anything to keep hold of the reality that existed before this one.
His kiss was one of unspoken desperation, akin to nothing I'd experienced before. I had never been kissed subsequent to a suicide. So I guess he had motive.
To kiss me like that. Not . . . you know, to commit suicide or anything.
He was pressing me down against the bed, his both hands on my back, arching me against him unknowingly. My own were curled gently around his neck. Warmth was trickling back into me. With it, though, came awareness, one that I was trying so hard to ignore.
Again, he stopped, and looked down at me.
More and more guilt rained down on me from his eyes.
God. Danielle Moore had killed herself recently, and I was STILL indulging in her boyfriend.
I am heartless . . . I am so damn heartless . . .
Breathing harder this time, Paul lowered his head again, but this time not to kiss me. He put his face beside my own. I felt the skin of his cheek on mine. He hadn't shaved, still. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, just . . . strange.
I breathed out gustily, my breathing patterns also erratic and uneven. 'You're right,' I said, 'We shouldn't do this . . . not now.'
'I know,' Paul said quickly against my neck. 'I know. We have to – '
Only, whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a, 'S-Susie . . . ?'
I stiffened, and Paul rolled off of me like lightning, looking up at Bart Ford who was standing there, looking – quite plainly – absolutely terrified.
I coughed, and tugged my top – which had hiked up a little, courtesy of Paul – back down. 'What, Bart?'
There IS a God. A second longer, and I didn't know what we would have done.
You know, defying stuff in the we-shouldn't-do-this-now category.
I didn't look at Paul.
Bart opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
'What?' I prompted him more.
Bart looked around fearfully. 'Susie . . . you – ' he swallowed. 'You need to get out of here.'
I shook my head. 'You know we can't.'
'No, you don't understand,' he took a step forward, ignoring Paul completely. 'You can't stay here anymore. You have to go. You have to.'
I closed my eyes, praying for patience. 'Bart, look. I don't care about Robin's little fire tricks. We can handle it. What happened with Dani is just . . . going to distract us for a little bit. But we have a job to do – '
'No,' Bart said, starting to get defensive and even angry. 'You HAVE to GO – '
'Look,' Paul spoke up, pissed off. 'We're not leaving until – '
'They'll do it again!' Bart's eyes went very wide.
'. . . Do what?' I asked. 'Who?'
'What they did to her,' Bart whispered, 'They'll do it to you too, Susie. They've done it once now . . . next time, they won't even hesitate with you – '
A whole other world came crashing down.
I started shivering again. No way. He – he wasn't serious –
'She killed herself,' I said firmly. 'She probably overdosed – '
Bart shook his head. In a blur, I turned and looked to see how Paul had taken this new information.
. . . He was rigid, and his eyes had gone from guilty, to deadly.
'No,' Bart said. 'They . . . she went to th – after she heard – b-but didn't want to any more, and they – it got out of c-control. It was an accident at first but then they – with her medicine, they forced it down her thr – ' he looked around again, his eyes even wider, as if he were waiting to be punished by something so much bigger than him.
My eyes were still on Paul.
Oh my God, this was bad . . .
Dani didn't . . . it wasn't her. It wasn't SUICIDE.
It was murder.
Oh my God, oh my God, ohmyGod, OHMYG –
'So, you're saying,' Paul said, in a voice that didn't even sound HUMAN let alone like his own, 'Your buddies killed one of our colleagues.'
'They're not my – ' Bart began, but Paul was already storming out of my room, with three things now on his mind.
Revenge.
Violence.
And exorcism.