AN: Short and to the point, this chapter. It is also dedicated to Morbid Crow. Why? Because, well, he's the one who said this would make an awesome chapter. And besides, he freakin' devours these chapters! Seriously! I'll post it, and like 5 minutes later, I'll get an email saying I've got a review. Thanks, Crow-kun! It's guys like you who keep me goin'! Also many thanks to my reviewers (who also keep me goin') Animekitty47, Eris-chan, and, of course, Morbid Crow.
Chapter 9: Paper Cathedrals Keep Blowing Down
I needed to write in my journal. When I'm an absolute emotional wreck, I need to write it down, or I will keep it all bottled up and explode on an unsuspecting victim.
So where the hell was my journal?!
I had spent the last half hour searching through my half of the doom room trying to find the book. Eventually, Claire asked me, like, what was I doing?
"I'm trying to find my journal. It was on my desk, but it isn't there anymore."
"Like, didn't you ask your girlfriend to, like, get it for you?"
Girlfriend? I turned to look at her. "I don't have a girlfriend. I'm a huge fan of the male population."
"Like, whatever. Betty was here earlier. She said you asked her to come get it for you."
"Oh!" I said, complete with a facepalm. "I'm such an idiot. I forgot! She's probably looking for me." I gave a bubbly, fake laugh, and left the room.
"!" That ghost was a second-dead man.
When I appeared in the living room of the Roadhouse, I pasted on a huge grin.
"Oh, Beej!" I called in a sing-song voice.
"In here!" I heard from the kitchen. Ooooo, the room with sharp knives.
I skipped into the kitchen, and hopped up on the counter. He was looking in the fridge, and I kicked my heels against the cabinet door beneath me until he looked over at me.
"It's Tuesday, shouldn't you be in class?"
I gave him a hurt look. "Can't I come and see you? I thought you liked spending time with me."
He didn't answer until he was leaning against the counter next to me. "Yeah, I do, but it ain't like you to play hooky."
I shrugged. "I don't have class again until tonight. So," I said slowly, tilting my head down so I could look up at him through my lashes, "what does it take to kill a ghost again?"
His mouthed opened and closed a few times before he finally said, "What?"
No more Miss Nice Kitty. I snatched his tie and pulled him until he was in front of me, noses practically touching, and I glared into his surprised green eyes.
"I am going to kill you. Please inform me as to how I may accomplish that goal."
"Can I at least know why ya wanna off me?"
"You stole my journal." Then I blinked, remember some things. He had already read it. That was how he found out my name! And the dancing thing! "Correction: I am going to kill you, bring you back, and kill you again." I paused. "And maybe a few more times after that."
"Kitty, it's just words on paper."
"No, it isn't! It's more than that! Wait, you wouldn't understand, so why should I bother explaining it," I muttered, darkly, glancing to the side. I made a mistake by breaking eye contact, but . . . .
"Try me."
My eyes flicked back, and there was something I hadn't expected in his eyes. There was the hard glint of a challenge . . . and a hint of something softer? Naw, he was just challenging me. I can deal with that. My grip on his tie tightened.
"As much as I hate to say it, what people think of me matters. Somehow, people have managed to get this idea of me. Most of it is true, but some of it isn't, and I have to meet those expectations. I don't know how, but I've learned how to get by on that. But since I'm trying to be what others think I am, there's a part of me I have to hide. A part of me I have to protect from the rest of the world. For the longest time, the only way I was able to protect that part was by burying it deep inside me, so the world couldn't get at it. And because of that, I've forgotten who I really am. I don't know who I am, Beej. I can't remember. I've spent so much of my life being someone my parents and the rest of the world would like that I've lost myself. My journal is the only way to get that back. I write down the things that I want. The things that I need. The things that I think. Not what they want, what they need, what they think."
Our staring contest continued in silence as I watched him calculate what I had said. I think I did pretty damn good in my explanation. It's difficult for me to explain things to other people so it makes sense to them as well.
"Kitty . . . ." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Look, everybody has sides they don't want the world ta know. I've get 'em, too. There are things about me that I don't ever want ya ta know." Another pause. "But there are things I do want ya ta know. I just don't know when I want ya ta know 'em. Am I makin' sense?"
"Yes."
"Yer not one ta talk about what goes on in here, are ya?" he asked, tapping the side of my head.
I finally let go of him, and leaned back, hugging myself. I couldn't look at him anymore.
"Or here," followed by a quick tap on my chest.
"No. No one cares."
He put his hand under my chin and forced my head up.
"How do ya know if ya don't tell anybody. I wanna know more about ya, but I'm kinda limited when ya don't talk."
"I talk all the time."
He chuckled slightly. "Ya never talk about yerself. When the conversation turns to you, ya shut down on me. The only time I really get a glimpse of what's behind those walls ya build around yerself is when yer upset. Then you'll shut down again, and ya won't say anythin'."
"I have to build the walls," I said quietly.
"Yeah," he replied, just as quiet. "But ya gotta let someone in."
"If I let you in, I'll have nowhere else to hide."
"Who said ya havta hide?"
I didn't answer, and he didn't say anything else. We stayed like that for a while. Me sitting on the counter. Him standing in front of me.
It seemed like forever before he sighed, and turned away from me. I watched him reach into his jacket pocket and pull out my little black and white book. He tossed it to me, and I, surprisingly, caught it.
"But ya gotta talk to me," he said over his shoulder. "Alright?"
"I'll see what I can do." Then I smirked. "Probably shouldn't kill you then, huh?"
My Kowai laughed. "Probably not the best idea."
Still didn't mean I wasn't curious. Meow.
AN: Will Kitty let him in? Dunno. Will we find out why she was such an emotional wreck earlier? Definitely. Will Beej be the one to get it out of her? Or will it be her little book that gets the info? No idea. I'll tell you she's having boy trouble, though.