Author's Note: Heyo! I hope you're taking the new month in your stride. For me, it feels like more of the same thing as last month, meh. I'm having a slightly better week, but I have to make grown-up decisions about my future, yuck. But the muse seems to be in working order again, so I've been writing for this story and some other projects during the week. Now onto the big question: who is the stranger in Carly's bedroom? Are they a friend...or foe? Read below to find out ; )
Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly, the characters or even this plot as far as I can tell. I just do the bidding of my muse.
Carly screamed again, her hand instinctively going to her throat to stifle the noise which came out at the same time. The man continued standing in front of her bed, staring straight back at her and looking utterly nonplussed. When Carly's erratic breathing finally slowed down, she began taking in more of the strange man's appearance.
He was dressed in black from head to toe. A baggy black leather trench coat which still managed to accentuate his lithe and muscular body beneath; a simple black T-shirt from the little Carly could see; black jeans and black calf-high combat boots on his feet. He had raven black hair which looked strangely fair due to the bright white light which encircled his entire being. His skin was almost as pale as the light surrounding him. And he had the bluest eyes that Carly had ever seen on any person before; they were a mesh of brilliant sky blue, but also as pale as crystallised ice.
It was difficult for Carly to tell just how old he was. He looked like he could be about her age, but his eyes seemed to indicate years, possibly millennia, of knowledge and deep-set cynicism.
"Hello, Carly Shay." He greeted in a low voice that was placid, which startled her a great deal.
Then he smiled a brilliant smile, which shook Carly even more than she already was.
"Um…who are you?" she asked in a shaky voice.
"That's not important right now. But I'm sure you must have a lot of questions."
"Oh, just one teensie little question. How did you get into my room? We're on the 8th floor!" Carly exploded abruptly.
"I have my ways," the man responded vaguely while smiling almost mockingly back at Carly.
"Well, whoever the hell you are, you're trespassing in my room. Spencer!" Carly called out instinctively, hoping her brother heard her voice.
The man waited it out patiently, taking a moment to glance at his watch while Carly began sweating profusely.
"SPENCER!" Carly bellowed at the top of her lungs.
"He's not coming, Carly. I've distracted him sufficiently with an idea for a new sculpture. That leaves you and me to talk freely." The man remarked patiently.
"Oh yeah? About what exactly?" Carly snapped impatiently, bristling up defensively as she backed away towards her dresser once more.
"About what's bothering you right now."
"About the accident," the man amended helpfully.
He watched with inward satisfaction when Carly's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates at his words.
"What do you know about the accident?" she demanded hoarsely, feeling the breath in her throat becoming constricted.
"Oh, I know all there is to know about the accident. I know why it happened. And I know why you acted the way you did when you tried to save Freddie's life." The man responded succinctly.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Carly sniffed, feigning indignation at the man's words.
But inwardly, her heart was practically palpitating at his statement. What did he know? And more importantly, how did he know?
"There's no need to pretend for my sake. I'm not here to hurt you, Carly. I'm only here to help you make sense of what happened earlier today." The man continued in a winning voice.
"Really? And how can you possibly help me?" Carly questioned frantically, her entire being overwhelmed with insufferable guilt.
"First off, I can clear up that little matter of you pushing your best friend into a sculpture made out of potentially dangerous weapons." The man replied with a sly smirk on his face.
"It was an accident! I would never wilfully hurt Sam!" Carly exploded furiously, wishing that Spencer would magically come walking up the stairs.
"Of course you didn't do it purposely. But you did make a choice when you pushed Sam out of the way and tried to pull Freddie to safety with you. Except that it didn't work – you almost killed him." The stranger pointed out ominously.
"No, I didn't! Freddie's gonna be fine!" Carly protested hysterically.
"Are you really that delusional, Carly? Freddie has a concussion – it's an extremely temperamental condition. Something could go wrong at any minute with him. All because you pushed him into a sofa." The man replied in a taunting sneer.
"I did it to save him, not to hurt him. The same goes for Sam." Carly responded vehemently, feeling tears forming in her eyes.
"Keep telling yourself that, Carly. Even you get tired of Sam's bullying ways. You wanted to push her, you wanted to hurt her, just like she hurts Freddie all the time. How does that make you feel, Carly? Does it make you angry? Angry enough to spill her blood?" The man questioned with relish, licking his lips subtly while eyeing her steadily.
"Stop it! You're just trying to mess with my head! Well, it's not going to work, I'm not listening to you anymore! You're not real! I'm just having a hallucination, that's all." Carly fumed desperately, covering up her ears with her hands while she paced around her dresser.
"This isn't a hallucination. This is real, Carly. I'm standing in your bedroom and I'm not going anywhere until you face what really happened. Aren't you the least bit curious as to why?" The man persisted in a deathly serious tone.
"What difference does it make? It didn't work! I pushed my best friend into my brother's very dangerous sculpture! Freddie still got hurt badly and now he has a concussion and it's all my fault and-"
Carly couldn't continue pacing any longer, unsteadily bitter tears streaming from her eyes as she sank down into her leather chair next to her dresser. Her shoulders began convulsing violently and her raven black hair formed the perfect curtain around her face while she wept silently. She gasped in surprise when she felt a hand lightly touch her shoulder like a whispering comforting caress.
"It may not have worked, but your heart was in the right place. Or should I say, it was in sync with Freddie's at the time." The man murmured kindly while patting Carly's shoulder lightly.
Something in the strange man's tone caught Carly abruptly off guard while she fixed him with an intense stare.
"What do you mean my heart was in sync with Freddie's?" Carly asked suspiciously.
The strange man withdrew his hand from Carly's shoulder and fixed her with a penetrating stare that shook her right down to her bones.
"When that accident on the stairs happened, your heart, body and mind were in sync with Freddie's. That's why you tried to save him."
"You bonded with Freddie, Carly."
Author's Note: Drum roll, please! I was aiming for spooky and eerie on that last part btw ; ) Ok, so we still don't know who this creepy stranger is in Carly's bedroom. But it most certainly is not the spirit of Carly's deceased mother (my apologies to Invader Johnny and sockstar if you're disappointed). More of what transpires here will be expanded on and concluded in chapter 4, which I hope will be a sufficient explanation for all the weirdness Carly's been experiencing. Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed so far, I'm getting a good vibe about this story, glad you feel the same way : ) Now for a nap because this insane summer heat is driving me crazy (yes, I said it's too hot, aisforangelaaa, I'll happily trade you some sun for a little snow your side, hee hee). Pip pip, cheerio!