Chapter Six

"No, it wasn't, it wasn't me. It couldn't be. I'm dead. I swear, I'm dead," a wash of tears, silver and light, fell from his cheeks. He backed away on the floor and Camille watched him helplessly. "I'm dead, I'm dead, and I cant come back, because I don't know how-"

"Moose-"

"I'm dead, Camille, I'm dead," he whispered. "I am not alive, I'm not breathing, I'm buried six feet under somewhere out there, in a cemetary, in a cold place where I cant go to, because I don't know where it is, and I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come near you, I should be somewhere else, but I don't know why I'm here, I really don't, and I'm so sorry-"

The collapse of words against the steady beat of Timbaland's music tilted the atmosphere in the room, and Camille looked around the room as it seemed to ebb and darken. Moose was making the room gloomy, and she was suddenly frightened. He continued to speak just as she heard soemthing bang outside the entrance hall. She looked over her shoulder and saw torch lights flashing outside the room.

"Moose-" she started, but he didn't hear her, and she started to feel dizzy, sick- She held a hand to her head as she watched the angry flashing lights and angry voices strob the hall outside before she took a breath and swayed. "Moose, please, stop, there's-"

Timbaland's music had come to a close in the background just as a sad melody began to fill her ears, and Camille stepped forward toward Moose just as she heard a bang from behind her. "Moose, please-"

Moose was gathered in a tight clump, and he had stopped talking, a muffled whimper escaping his lips. His shoulders were shaking, and suddenly the lights died, as Camille slumped down to the floor. She thought she was going to be sick, as a flash of heat surged up her neck, and her vision swam. Holding a hand out for Moose, she felt her fingers glance through him, just as a sharp echo behind her alerted her that there was a group of angry people behind her, in the room, with them-

She gathered herself into a ball, shivering against the pain in her head, just as she heard someone shout-

"Turn on the damn lights!"

"Cammie? Cammie?!" Moose's hysterical voice rose as he saw what was happening before his eyes. Camille was going in and out of consciousness, and she twitched her fingers just as someone turned to flick on the light. A mirror was bashed in suddenly, and Camille jumped, her hand flying to her head. They were far enough away from what was happening that no one saw them, and Robert bit his lip, clicking his fingers just as the lights went on to flicker them out again.

"Damn lights were working seconds ago! Why the fuck are they-"

"Someone else is in here, messing with the equipment-"

"Let's make 'em pay for that fucking mess up with the Prank-"

Robert waved his hand angrily as he heard another mirror crash, followed by another, and the sound of spray paint swished through the dance hall. Camille looked up tiredly, her face as pale as a sheet, and he beckoned her to follow him, to crawl on her hands and knees to behind a crevice in the wall, a secret alcove along the wall would keep her safe.

She began to crawl toward it, just as she came down on her side, her hand to her side. Robert sat protectively over her, worried to do anything to the guys in case it affected her. He knew what was happening to her. As a result of his own negative energy, the waves fell on her and made her ill. It happened whenever he sat near someone who wasn't happy, who was afraid, sick, or scared.

It was the reason his trick when the boys cornered Camille worked so were afraid of what happened, and so they ran. Now she was sick, and she couldn't move without causing herself to feel dizzy.

He looked around him helplessly, and found his eyes falling on the Player. Turning his hand sideways, he cranked up the sound as far as it would go, hoping a tribal piece would play, loud and wracked with as many painful cries as he could imagine. Without a second glance at the confusion around him, he shook Camille, tapping her on the shoulder, as the group in front of them suddenly held their hands to their ears, and fell to the ground.

It was loud enough to wake the neighbourhood, but he didn't care. Let the police come, he would protect her, and he would make sure she wasn't found.

"Come on Camille, come on come on come on, please," he imagined a stream of healin energy folw through him and into her, and hoped she would react to it in some way, and push herself to find shelter just as the crew ran out of the dance hall, screeching in protest against the echoing sounds in their ears. Camille suddenly yelled against the sound, and he turned down the volume, hoping that the group of idiots who came in here were long gone.

She lay in a heap, her body shaking and cold from what had happened. In the dark, Robert felt himself shudder and stare. He couldn't move as she lapsed in and out of consciousness. Never in his life had he ever come across a reaction so strong. He'd never met someone so in tune with his feelings before. She was different, and she needed his help.

"Camille, I'm so sorry, I'm really really sorry, just please can you move toward that arch there and stay behind it, please? Please, Camille, just start moving, before the cops come, please," he kept pleading as she came around, and started crawling toward the place he wanted her to be. All he could see was her form swallow itself in the darkness as she haltingly moved toward the spot.

"What happened?" she whispered softly, shaking her head, and putting both her hands on her face as she shuddered against her breath. Robert didn't answer and instead turned to the room, which was in chaos. He gritted his teeth, before he walked toward the centre of it all. He distantly heard her babbling behind him, but knew that more serious trouble would come if he didn't do something about what lay in front of him now.

He saw the graffiti, the destroyed windows, the mirrors, broken and dishevelled, and in a sense, he could've stopped it, without having her in trouble because of it. He was just a stpuid, grovelling idiot. He wanted so badly to be a human again, he just wanted someone to listen to him and hear him. But of course, he had to let his fears get in the way. He had to let her get hurt. Now, she was stuck behind one of the arches, probably sick and dizzy out of her mind and ready to go home, never to see him again for definite this time. He gripped his hands and closed his eyes, letting a tear slide down his cheek.

He was so desparate, and when he saw what she saw, heard what she heard, he couldn't help himself. He knew what happened to him now: he was in a car crash, and he died in it. He knew he died: no-one could survive after a scream like that, so high pitched and damn terrified and in so much pain. Broken ribs, a possible fracture embedded deep in his spine, cracked skull, numbed fingers and hands, shattered legs- He didn't know what caused the pain, but he knew he'd been in a lot of it before he saw white.

He knew why he was here now, and he knew it was his job to make sure she didn't get caught for it. He held up his hands and opened his eyes, the lights coming on and the writing-

Stay out of the Streets-

-blaring to life under his gaze. He flicked his hands and the writing disapearred, gone as if it was never there. He flicked his hands toward the windows and they slivered themselves into place, one again with their frame. No sound could be heard, not even Camille's voice. She must've passed out by now. He sighed, clicking his fingers as he set the mirrored walls to right and with a selfless juggle of his arms he finished with the writing on the mirrors, effortlessly cleaning it off with nothing but a second glance.

There was nothing left to clean, nothing left to vanish with a flick of fingers. Everything was much the same as it had been before. He felt sapped of energy, but that was okay. Camille wouldn't be pinned for what had happened in here tonight, she would be safe.

Robert shuffled over to her, and saw her curled up in a ball behind the arch, her face calm. She was sleeping, and he smiled, glad to see that was no longer suffering from his pain. She was going to be fine. He walked softly to her, and in the silence around them, he kneeled down to her, right beside her face. He wanted to lie down beside her and sleep, sleep until nothing more came. He swallowed at what he really meant by his words, and shook his head.

This time, he wasn't going to appear to her. This time, he promised himself he would never dance with her, never laugh alongside her, never share anything with her, ever again. He would be silent, and he would stay away. She would never have to think of him ever again.

God, he scratched at his neck. He felt so dramatic about it.

But, it was true. What happened tonight was as a result of his selfish actions. He should never have allowed himself to get too close to her, but...

She was the only girl who could see what he felt, and understand. She was beautiful, sweet, and funny. When she blushed, she was cute, and adoreable, and when she shied away, all he wanted to do was cuddle her. He fidgeted with his hands while he watched her.

She was perfect.

But, he was in a whole different world compared to her, and the difference between them set them apart.

He looked down at his hands, miserable, as his vision faded in and out. He could hear her start to come to now, her body rustling against the wooden floor. He clicked the lights on, and the brightness of it all had him yawn. God, he felt so tired now. Never had he ever felt so sleepy.

"Moose, where are you?" she whispered softly, rubbing her eyes as he looked up to her face. She was just about to answer her, when he thought better. He felt like closing his eyes and drifting off, and he stretched his body in agreement, as his being began to sliver in and out of reality.

"I'll always be here, Camille," he answered. "I'll always be close, I promise."

He faded out just as she caught sight of him, and he closed his eyes as the darkness, warm and comforting, enveloped him. He leant against it, feeling his clothes ripple against this darkness, like the touches of fingertips to water. He curled up, happy, content, ignoring the constant pang in his chest, the feeling that what he was leaving behind had breached him to the point of melancholy, a far off exclamation on a neverending sentence.

A/N: Thank you everyone for reviewing and favouriting this! I'm so glad you love my writing and that you like my style! I cant wait to see what you think of what happens next! Few more chapters to go, m'dears! XD

xoxoxox