A/N: I just realized how long this story really is getting. 45 chapters. I plan to end at fifty. That's a lot….hm…a big thank you and a cyber hug to those who've stuck with me for so long!

Xx

Tuesday, January 2, 2007

8:02 AM

Rachel was unbuckled before the car had coasted to a stop outside of the large brick building. As she stuffed her mp3 player back into her bag and slung it over her shoulder, she heard her mother clear her throat.

"Rachel--"

Rachel slammed the door in her face and walked briskly into school, her face burning with anger and humiliation. She hadn't spoken once to her mother since their ordeal last night, seething with a white-hot anger at her mother's reaction to her confession.

Not that she was surprised.

She'd heard them talking late at night, her parents, about what to do with her. The shrink was a definite, but they were wondering to what extremes to take her counseling to. Obviously, something was seriously wrong with her.

If only Rachel could work up the courage to tell them who Alex really was. How he was Dan, and not some creepy psycho-murderer. But whenever a fraction of her brain would consider it, the other half would worriedly wave it away. If she told, then Lisa would surely be linked to Rachel's kidnapping, and that would put her closer in line for capital punishment or life sentence.

Her mother had attempted to reconcile with her that morning, but Rachel would have none of it. She wasn't ready to forgive her for the violation of Rachel's personal space and sanity.

Rachel gingerly set her books on her homeroom desk and tenderly sat in her chair. The pain that shot up her spine was just another reminder of Alex, and how he'd shoved her against the wall what seemed like forever ago. He was gone, but the bruises remained.

She knew she was drawing stares as she busied herself with her pen, uncapping and capping it. A girl approached, ready to say something, and then hurried away, her face flushing.

Before, I was the girl who everybody wanted to avoid. Now, I'm the girl who everybody wants to talk to.

"Rachel." She looked up, into the eyes of her first-period teacher, Mr. Benne. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she muttered, looking away. He stepped closer.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to--"

"Really," she said, a bit more snappishly than she would have liked, "I'm fine." He walked away.

The rest of the day went exactly as Rachel would have anticipated, up until lunch. She would have expected to be left in peace to eat, although she expected the stares. However, as soon as she had set her bagged lunch on the plastic table, half a dozen girls and their significant others flocked to her attendance.

"Rachel!" one squealed happily, plopping into the chair next to her and touching her arm in a friendly fashion. Rachel had no idea who she was, and made it evident as she frowned and ignored her. "Oh my God, how are you?"

"Just swell."

She heard the titters that surrounded her sarcasm, as they obviously thought that she'd meant to be funny. She hadn't. She really didn't care.

"So, I love your necklace," one girl gasped, reaching out to touch it. Rachel backed away, clutching the pendant tightly in her grasp.

"Thank you," she replied stiffly, not touching her food. "A friend gave it to me."

There was a pause, in which Rachel studied the thug across from her as he shoveled hamburger into his oversized mouth. Too much red meat can kill you.

"When is the trial?" Rachel looked up just in time to see one of the girls punching the guy who'd said it in the arm. "Uh…sorry?"

"Asshole," the girl mumbled, shooting a sheepish glance at Rachel. "Excuse him, please."

There was another hesitation, before Rachel forced out, "There won't be one."

Another ripple of conversation. "What?"

"They didn't catch him," Rachel snapped. "They can't trial a ghost."

"Oh."

She felt a stare, and turned to see the girl next to her looking intently at her. "You are so pretty," she marveled, shaking her head. Was I pretty before all this happened, or am I just pretty now so that you can be in Time Magazine?

"Thank you."

"It's just so horrible," the girl scoffed. "That those creepy murderers have to kidnap the prettiest girls. I think that's why they do it. So they can get some, or whatever." She rolled her eyes, obviously meaning it to be a joke, and the group laughed. Rachel, on the other hand, felt sick.

Another girl looked at Rachel's neck. "What happened?"

"I…" The bathroom. Alex. Kiss. "I'm…"

Rachel pushed away from the table. Bathroom. She needed to get to a bathroom before she was sick.

She made it halfway across the quad before she collapsed in the snow, emptying the meager contents of her stomach across the ice. She felt a large hand pulling her hair back, and rubbing circles on her back. In her weakened state, she had no way to protest, but when she was finished, she attempted to rise timidly on wobbly legs.

A tall, muscular boy she knew to be a senior dug in his pocket for a tissue and wordlessly handed it to her.

"T-thank you," she whispered, trembling and feeling clammy. "I'm fine. Really."

"No, you're not," he replied in a deep voice. "Come on."

Rachel had no choice but to follow him to a secluded bench, shivering in her sweater. He sat and handed her another tissue, as she wiped the involuntary tears from her eyes and her mouth again.

He paused. "I saw what happened."

"Nothing happened."

"Yes," he argued, though not unkindly. "In the cafeteria. With the girls. They're idiots, Rachel."

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I—I don't really remember you."

He smiled broadly, displaying a set of straight white teeth. "It's fine. We've never really been introduced, I've just—noticed you. My name is Lou Whitman."

"Nice to meet you. And thank you."

"You're welcome," he laughed, brushing a hand through his short black hair. "And don't worry about them."

"Who?"

"The girls," he sighed. "They're just looking for a little press coverage, they don't mean anything they say."

"It wasn't them that bothered me," Rachel paused. "It was actually what they said. They brought up things that I'd rather not think about again."

"I see," he stared intently at her, his brown eyes wide. "I heard about that. I'd say I'm sorry, but that seems to be a bit too emotionless for my liking. Are you going to be okay?"

She nodded, then shrugged. "Like I said. I'm fine. I'm alive." Rachel stood. "I better go to the nurse or something."

He wagged his head as well. "I'll come with you. Don't want you collapsing or anything."

"That would be bad."

He shoved his hands into his pockets as they walked briskly down the hall. They stopped outside of the nurse's. "Okay, then, Rachel. Will I see you around?"

She nodded, smiling, for the first time in weeks, what seemed like a genuine smile. "Yeah. That would be very nice."