Disclaimer: I don't own and will never own Bridge to Terabithia or The Scientist.

Running in circles, Comin' in tails

Heads on a science apart

Thirteen years had passed.

Everyone had become successful. Brenda and Ellie married, May Belle became a lawyer, Joyce Ann pursued her dream of becoming an actress… And him? He never married, never had a girlfriend. He spent all his time drawing, making illustrations for children's books. He was quite famous actually, but that fame didn't matter to him. None of it mattered. As long as he was able to finish the job, meet the deadlines, he would be fine. It was the same routine he did the first time he got employed when he was twenty-two years old.

Jess Aarons lived alone in his apartment, with a dog that was the same breed as P.T. Sometimes he would think to himself why he hadn't taken his own life when he was younger, that way he wouldn't be suffering this much. But he thought that this suffering only served him right: it would be the price he'd pay for her death. He deserved to suffer so much more than she did.

Jess made quite a lot of money. A lot of famous writers sought for his services. He was indeed a very talented illustrator. Especially when it came to stories with tragic endings, ones that needed illustrations, Jess always did his best when it came to that, all because he could relate well.

Jess lived a life of seclusion. He wasn't antisocial or something, but he was never fond of company. The only visitor he ever received and would receive was the sister closest to him, May Belle. After Leslie passed away, it was May Belle whom he tried to name as Leslie's successor. There were a lot of differences. May Belle wasn't as imaginative as she was, wasn't quirky and smart as she had been. She just wasn't Leslie at all. He obviously had forced himself to turn his own little sister into someone she couldn't become, and what kind of brother was he to have done such a thing?

There were always times – times when a sharp pang of pain and guilt would suddenly smack his face and wipe him out from reality. He would lie on his bed, kick the sheets and scream at the top of his lungs. Tear-stained pillows would be the next thing he'd notice. He hadn't recovered, hadn't moved on. He had no right to move on, at all. If it was like that, like this repeating itself countless times, why couldn't he bring himself to just get his gun, pull the trigger and finally put everything to an end?

No, no, no! I just can't escape this by killing myself… BUT IT'S DRIVING YOU TO DAMN INSANITY AARONS! He would think of these words whenever he was plagued by his nightmares. He didn't have someone to tell it to, not that he wanted to.

"If there's a God, then why did he take such an innocent and pure life?" Jess asked himself. He stopped believing in God and going to church a year after Leslie's death. There was simply no point in doing so… Praying wouldn't help him get her back.

Nothing can ever bring her back. No. Not God, not his feelings, not his love, not anything. It was simply just the time to stop… And finally give everything up.

He contemplated on his plan for a few days. Yes, there would be a lot of people who'll miss him dearly; his relatives, his fans, and most of all, May Belle. Yet, they would eventually heal in time, unlike him. They will remember him as a mere memory of a boy who had a tragic childhood but lived to tell his tale.

And soon, it would be his tale that they would live to tell…