Chapter Seventeen

Boobs VS. Call Of Duty

(Lindsey)

"Uh, sorry - I'm what?"

Although the tone was steady and the face skeptical, I was sure that I wasn't the only one who saw the quick flash of horror flare in Harlow's eyes. She smiled, cocking an eyebrow, but the grin didn't reach her eyes. Her hand moved convulsively against her leg, her would-be casual stance stiff and uncomfortable.

Sophie took another step forward, jaw line razor sharp now, eyes alight with something undeniably hostile.

"A psychic, apparently," she said smoothly, bottom lip protruding slightly in mock interest. "The whole school's been buzzing about it."

Next to her, Ashlee's face was alive with malevolence. It made me almost sick to my stomach, seeing the earnest dazzle of thrill light up her face. That bitch, I'd kill her myself.

"I'm a psychic?" Harlow scoffed, looking uncomfortably over at Kim and I - I tried to smile reassuringly, but I think it came out as more of a grimace. "According to who, exactly?"

"What were their names?" Sophie asked calmly, looking over at Ashlee. "Denise, or something? Bri?"

Whatever color left in Harlow's face drained, and her eyes widened a little in shock. She understood, that much was obvious - but it was also blatantly obvious that she wasn't going down without a fight.

"I don't know either of those girls," she said simply, averting her eyes from the rest of the team.

"And they don't know you," Sophie said, looking back at Harlow. "But they did overhear you at some .. 'paranormal convention', or something. When you were in New York, remember? They overheard you talking to some girl."

"I was with you the whole time," Harlow said defiantly, but she was looking almost pleadingly at Sophie's hard, menacing face. "You might not remember me being there, since you were too busy threatening to jump out the window, but I was with you the whole time."

Sophie laughed humorlessly, eyes blank and narrowed in rage. "You weren't, though. What was that girls name? Alana? Alina? Elaine? Something like that .. the other little brat from Foster Care you ran into that night. Kimmy and Linds and I went to find seats - you stayed behind to talk to her."

Harlow's face was emotionless, but her hands were still clenched tightly against her sides. "The Foster Care brat is named Alina. I don't know what this Denise girl thinks she heard, but she clearly misunderstood."

Sophie took another few steps towards Harlow, slinking around in an almost cat-like fashion. Her lips were thin, eyes blazing. When she spoke, it was in a voice of forced calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it. It was vehement, her rage dripped off of every word. I stood next to Kimmy, frozen with fear - I'd never heard Sophie like this. She was always either angry or bored, interested or not. Her voice was always a drawl, biting yet friendly. But this? This was not her bored drawl. It was not her angry snarl. It was so far beyond either of those, it was almost ... inhuman, in its fury.

"Did she though, Harlow?" Sophie asked quietly.

"Clearly," Lo responded, looking quite frightened at this new, terrifying side to her best friend. "I'm sure I'd know if I were psychic ... "

"Is this why you've been hanging around with Ryan so much?" Soph asked, coming to a stop barely an inch from Harlow. "All this time, I've thought you were with him because you really, honestly liked that weird-ass fuck. But now? Why are you with him, Lo? You hoping he'll give you a spot on his little ghost show? You hoping he'll exploit your pretty little face all over television? You hoping he'll understand you?"

Harlow shook her head, jaw clenched. "Sophie - you're not even making sense. I don't understand why you're even upset over this, this ... stupid rumor."

"Why wouldn't you have told me you're a psychic? Hm? We're best friends, right? Did you simply forget to mention it," Sophie asked softly. "Did you think it was unimportant? Or were you worried, is that it? Worried that I'd look at you just like I am now - for a sad, pathetic little liar."

"You honestly believe I'm a psychic?" Harlow scoffed, looking in mingled horror and fury at Sophie's cold face. "Really? You'll take the word of some nobody you don't even know over my own?"

"Everyone in the school's talking about it, Harlow," Ashlee said angrily from behind Soph - it was like she was using her as a shield. "Denise was there, she heard you. It's your word against the schools. You actually think you can talk to ghosts? Are you joking?"

"Shut up, Ashlee," Kimmy said furiously. "It's a stupid rumor that's floating around, that's all. Why don't you keep your dirty mouth shut!"

"Why would it make a difference if it were true or not?" Harlow said quietly.

We all turned to look at her, and were caught by surprise - she was looking at Sophie, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Sophie stared back, eyes dark and furious. Neither of them seemed to realize there was anyone else in the room. Harlow was breaking down - Sophie was unrelenting in her anger. This wasn't going to end well. You didn't need to be a psychic to figure that much out.

"Because you'd be one of them," Sophie said irately. "You'd be a freak, just like your little boyfriend. Ghosts don't exist, Harlow. There's no such thing as spirits. There's no evidence, there's no proof. You're a psychology major. You deal with the science of the brain everyday, you of all people should understand. You're a smart girl, there's no denying that - but it makes me wonder what the fuck is the matter with your brain if you think you can actually 'communicate' with the 'dead'. How can someone studying to counsel people with mental problems do an effective job when they're fuckin' mental themselves?"

"I'm not a freak," Harlow said softly, her face filled with such terrific misery that it broke my heart just looking at her.

"So you're not psychic, then?" Sophie asked harshly, looking down her nose at Lo. "Everything Denise 'overheard' is bullshit?"

Harlow said nothing, but stared at Sophie with her bright, teary eyes. She looked at her as if she'd never seen her clearly before now, before this moment. She looked startled, upset. I wasn't even sure she'd heard what Soph had said - there was an unmistakable look of horror and puzzlement in that beautiful face. Sophie stared back, her own stunning face lined with deep disgust. She shook her head, not taking her eyes off of Harlow.

"So you are then," she said quietly. "You're a psychic. You know, you better go get your shit checked out, Harlow. Kingston, he's a bit nuts too, isn't he?"

Harlow's face whitened even more than I thought possible, and the misery that had washed over her was replaced with a terrific blaze of fury. She stood a little straighter, stepped a little closer.

"That's completely out of line," she said, her voice stronger now, but her eyes still brimming with tears. "Don't ... don't get my brother involved in this."

"I always wondered," Sophie spat, mock thoughtfulness oozing from every word she spoke. "You come from this sad, pathetic little broken family. You spend the majority of your life in Foster care. You're this weird, freaky little outsider who never had friends, never had a real family - "

"Shut up, Sophie!" Jess yelled tearfully.

But Sophie ignored her.

" - and I always thought, there's got to be something wrong with this chick," she continued. "But there you were, little Miss Perfect. Top grades. Top player on the team. Ideal student. Perfect friend. After years and years of hanging out with you and talking to you, you had me convinced you were perfectly normal, Harley. That there was nothing in this world wrong with you. Clearly, I misjudged you."

Harlow's face was red with rage, but her eyes were sad, deadened. She didn't respond, just stared blankly at Sophie's face, which was twisted in some sort of unimaginable rage.

"Psychic?" Sophie scoffed again, folding her arms across her chest. "So you can talk to ghosts, can you? What else did you forget to mention, Harlow? What exactly did they do to you in Foster care, so many years ago? How terrible it must have been, doing enough damage to make you believe you're some kind of white trash Miss Cleo. How broken is your life, Harlow? How terrible was your childhood? Was it really so horrific that it's made you a borderline schizophrenic, just like your big brother? How sad, Lo. How very very sad."

"I wouldn't trade my childhood for yours in a million years," Harlow said quietly, a single tear dripping down her cheek. "I would rather the life I had, the orphaned, lonesome, pathetic excuse of an existence I lead, than take yours. Nobody knew I existed because I didn't have anyone. You had everyone, everything. And you were still a nobody. So don't talk to me like I'm some piece of shit scum on the bottom of your shoe, Sophie. I'm the same girl I've always been, the person I am right now is the person you've known for four years. It's not fair to treat me like this."

Harlow's words, spoken plainly, and without conviction or the cold and biting cruelty of Sophie's, seemed to do more damage than Soph's entire belittling monologue. Her face whitened, and she stared at Lo, speechless for the first time in ten minutes. Harlow's face was still and hard as stone, but tears were now flowing freely down her cheeks, dampening the front of her hoodie. The two friends - former friends? - stared at each other, hard and unblinking for another minute. They made no noise, said nothing else, but stared - in fear. In anger. In horrible, all-consuming sadness.

Finally, with a shaky sigh, Sophie shook her head and took a step away from Harlow.

"Regardless," she said quietly, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. "I'd rather be a nobody then a delusional freak. Any day."

And she stormed out of the gym without another word.

With a glance over at the silent, unmoving Harlow, Ashlee grabbed Natalie's elbow and yanked her towards the door, both of them shooting slightly terrified but mostly disgusted looks back at Lo. She didn't seem to see them leave - she was staring blankly ahead, hands clamped tightly together in front of her.

"Harlow?" Kimmy said softly, taking a step towards her. "Lo? Are you okay?"

Harlow didn't move. Kimmy peered back at me, eyes narrowed. I shrugged, still a bit scared to move, but most of all, completely unsure of what to do. How did you comfort someone who had just lost their best friend? What did you say to someone who's entire reputation was on the line? How did you fix a problem when the problem was so far beyond you? Were there any words in the world to fix a broken heart? I didn't think so. But I'd try.

"Harlow?" I said, moving closer towards her. "Harlow, sweetie? Are you okay?"

She jumped, and looked over at Kim and I - her eyes were glazed over. She looked at us blindly, nodding.

"I'm fine," she said, voice barely a whisper. "Fine."

"Don't listen to Sophie," Kimmy said, moving towards her and putting an arm comfortingly around her shoulders. "She's such a ... she's .. she's just horrible."

"She is," I agreed, grasping Lo's clammy hands in my own. "She's just been in a terrible mood ... don't take what she said to heart, Harley. She's miserable. She'll realize how terrible of a beotch she was, she'll apologize."

Harlow said nothing, but continued nodding, the blank expression in her eyes still evident. Jess moved silently towards her, doe eyes round and leaking pearly drops of tears down her pale cheeks.

"You're not a freak," she said quietly, looking very seriously at Lo's empty face. "You're not, Harlow. Don't ... don't listen to her. You're one of the best friends I've ever had, and you didn't deserve that."

Harlow looked at her, wearily. She gave what I assume was an attempt at a smile, but took her hands out of mine a moment later, and shrugged off Kimmy's arm.

"Thanks," she croaked, but seemed to find her voice a second or two later. "Ahem - sorry. Thanks, thank you. I don't mean to be rude, and I apologize if I am - but I'd just ... I'd just like to be alone right now."

Kimmy and I exchanged looks - was that really the best idea?

"Okay," Jess said, looking sternly between Kim and I. "We'll leave you, Harlow. Just call us if you need us, okay?"

She simply nodded, hands folding back together again. Her eyes glazed over once more, and she stared blankly at the opposite wall. There really wasn't anything we could do for her. She wanted silence, she wanted solitude. Could anyone blame her? The three of us slung our bags over our shoulders, giving her a few last pats on the back and arm. She didn't seem to notice.

We trudged out of the gym silently, not daring to look at one another. The silence that followed us out of the auditorium was terrible, but the worst of it?

The faint, shaky sob that echoed behind us as the door shut with a snap.

(Ryan)

I half walked, half ran down the long hallway in front of me.

I'd made it to the sports auditorium in record time, passing barely anyone - the school was near empty. Was that really such a big surprise, though? It was Friday night, after all. There were parties to go to. Bars to hop. Clubs to crash. No self-respecting college student would still be on campus on a Friday night, whether it was exam time or not.

What was my Friday evening looking like? Why, thanks for asking! Frankly, up until about fifteen minutes ago, it was going to consist of eating lemon heads and drinking beer whilst playing some Halo with Serge in our dimly lit nerd cave. Dimly lit nerd cave as in our living room. Who needs strip clubs? Pfft, not me. Who wanted boobs when they could have a five hour Call Of Duty marathon with their best, super foreign friend?

Right? Am I right? No?

Ahhh. Maybe this is why I was a virgin until I was twenty. I see.

My night, however, was not shaping up to be a nerdfest COD marathon. Not at all. Right now, my mind was far too preoccupied with other things - things more important than what video game I was going to beat Sergey at that evening.

My thoughts were on Harlow.

I'd spoken to her several times, either over text or on the phone, since we'd gotten home from New York. She had what sounded like one of the gnarliest colds known to man - she'd been up in bed for days now. She'd missed half a week of classes, and even more surprisingly, her Wednesday night volleyball practice. Poor girl. I'd offered to come and hang out with her for a bit, but after she went into a two minute coughing spazz on the phone, I decided against it.

I adored her, you must know that by now. But there wasn't much I could do for her while her head was buried in her toilet, y'know?

We'd chatted briefly today, only about five minutes before I had to run to one of my classes. She'd asked how I was, what I was up to tonight, how the classes were going. Great, nothing much, as well as they could be. I'd asked how she was feeling, what she was up to tonight, had she taken her flu medication. Terrible, not a lot, every hour on the hour. At some point during that phone call, she had let slip that she was considering going to volleyball practice tonight. Her excuse was something like;

"I need the fresh air and the exercise, sitting around in my apartment isn't going to speed up my recovery."

I'd argued with her, of course, but she was quite adamant. And really, lets face it - when it comes to Harlow, I don't have the balls to stand up to her. She's too adorable, even at her most phlegmy and I'm much to clingy and needy to try and even attempt to convince her otherwise. And I guess I couldn't argue ... she knew what was best for her body. Her glorious, chiseled, tanned to perfection body. Ughhhh oh my lanta, so good. Uhm - oh, sorry. Anyways. It was because of that short, five minute phone call earlier today that helped me figure out where she was.

Volleyball practice was always held in the Hausman's Auditorium, which was on the other fuckin' end of Campus from the PRS building. It was where I knew she'd be.

I'd heard no rumors, nothing, about her for the last three days. It must've just gotten out this morning, or I'm sure something would've come to my attention. The gossip in Penn State was almost always about football players. I heard they've been signed to blah blah, or I heard he's dating Kirsten Dunst, or ... or, whatever else stupid, high school-esque rumors they could come up with. The gossip in this school was like a particularly boring rollercoaster - it usually started slow, took a while to gain some speed. It had a bit of surge in popularity, but then fizzled out after a couple days.

This rumor, however, had spread like wildfire.

But that comes as no surprise, does it? Harlow, Captain of the Penn State Volleyball team. One of the most well-known, well-liked, most beautiful girls on campus. Never anything negative about her, no terrible drunken bar stories, no tales of her promiscuity. Just a nice, simple girl, who did no one wrong, was good-natured, was sweet. But then all of a sudden, tales and rumors and stories of her being a psychic? Was she crazy? Was everyone else? What other secrets had she been hiding? Was she lying? Was she telling the truth? Was this some sad cry for attention? She must've been nuts.

When I started PRS, I'd been on the receiving end of some pretty terrible backlash. I knew the feeling. All too well, I knew. And now Harlow - sweet, innocent, warm-hearted Harlow - was going to be on the receiving end of it. It just didn't seem fair, did it?

I took the stairs, two at a time, and ended up in the last narrow corridor leading to the auditorium. My mind was going a mile a minute - was she okay? Had she even heard the rumors? Maybe she was okay with it .. maybe she was pretending like it was all a big joke? I wouldn't know until I saw her.

There was the sound of light footsteps coming from ahead of me. I squinted, looking down the darkened hall - a slight frame, a female. Harlow?

No. Sophie.

Her eyes were narrowed, and the closer she came, the angrier I saw they were. The blue was icy, the sharp, beautiful face hollowed with fury. Her golden blonde hair was up so tightly, it pulled her face back, giving her an even more menacing appearance. For such a thin, willowy girl, she sure did scare the crap out of me.

"Sophie?" I said, meeting her halfway down the hallway. "I'm glad I found you - Harlow, is she - "

"In the auditorium," she replied, her voice crisp and cold.

I remember once, it seemed like forever ago now, when Harlow and I were walking back from the field the night of the Kegger. I remember seeing her and Sophie standing next to each other, and marveling at the similarities between them. I remember thinking how they looked just like sisters, so alike in their differences it was staggering. But now, I realized I couldn't have been more wrong.

Harlow never could've looked like this, even if she'd tried, she would never have been able to look even a third this menacing. Sophie's face, thin like Harlow's, was full of rage. Every feature, the ones I'd found so similar to Lo's, was angry. Enraged. Harlow's beauty was easy. It was delicate, soft. Elegant and entirely symmetrical in it's perfection. Sophie's looks were sharp as a knife. Chiseled down to the bones of her cheeks. Harsh, calculating - recklessly beautiful. Sophie would never have Harlow's flawless, sweet and unfathomably innocent beauty. Just as Harlow would never have Sophie's ragged, stone smooth and mean allure. Never.

"Is she alright?" I asked cautiously, taking a half step back away from Sophie - her eyes bore into my own, alight with terrific fury.

"Why wouldn't she be," Sophie responded softly, but even in a whisper her voice carried a dangerous edge.

"Oh, I .. I don't know," I stuttered. "I just .. have been hearing things around the school .. strange things."

"Fascinating," she replied acidly. "Now get the fuck out of my way."

And with strength that someone as tiny as her couldn't possibly have possessed, she shoved me forcefully out of the way, storming down the hallway and disappearing around the corner.

I stared blankly after her, listening as her footsteps faded into silence. What. A. Bitch.

It's not like I wasn't used to it. Especially at the beginning of the Society, people looked at me like I was a piece of gum on the bottom of their shoe. They looked at me like I was a walking, talking man of shit. But now, to be shoved against a wall by a girl I barely knew - well, this was a bit of a surprise, truth be told.

I flew down the rest of the hallway, into the large foyer at the end of it. The auditorium doors were shut, but I heard nothing inside - no padding of sneakers against the waxed floors. No yells, no bouncing of volleyballs. Nothing. I had half a mind to turn around and walk back to my office.

But something in my mind was screaming to go in.

I walked, tentatively, but then more confidently towards the large, metal doors and pushed - I was right. There was definitely no practice going on here. But there was a person still inside.

Harlow.

She didn't seem to hear the doors open. She was standing quite still, looking quite pale, near the back bleachers of the gym. I didn't move, just stared. She was looking blankly at the wall opposite. Her hands were clasped in front of her, hair tied up in a knot on the top of her head. Her always thin frame seemed more frail today, bonier. Her jawline sharper than it had ever been. I took a couple of steps into the gym, letting the doors snap shut behind me - she still didn't seem to hear.

"Harlow?" I called quietly, walking very slowly towards her.

Her brow furrowed, but she didn't look over at me.

"Harlow," I said again, this time moving a little quicker towards her.

Her eyes closed, and she took a couple steps back, sinking down onto the bleachers. The closer I got, the worse I felt - her eyes were bright but watery. Glazed over. Her cheeks were stained with tears. She was very obviously still under the weather, her face pale and heavy bags under her eyes. But that wasn't what struck me - she looked absolutely miserable.

"Harlow," I said once more, sinking down onto the seat next to her. "Lo .. are you alright?"

She turned to me, looking me dead in the eyes. There was something so dark, so blank about them. The emeralds were no longer dazzling - they were haunted.

"Everyone knows," she said hoarsely, looking sincerely perplexed. "Everyone. I tried to hide it ... I don't understand."

"It'll blow over," I assured her, placing my hand over her own and giving a light squeeze - it was sickeningly clammy. "Someone heard some ridiculous rumor, they spread it around. You know these things - they all blow over in the end."

"But someone told," she said, making no effort to squeeze back. "Someone who knew, they told."

"I know what you're thinking," I said softly. "But it wasn't me, Lo. It wasn't - "

"I know," she whispered, looking away and back across the gym. "I know. It was that girl. The one who looks kind of like a frog. Diane, or Elise or something."

"Denise," I said, and I felt a swell of fury bubble in the pit of my stomach. "Denise Howell. Apparently she overheard you talking to someone at the convention. I don't know - maybe it was us? Maybe she heard - "

But Harlow shook her head, cutting me off. "No. It wasn't any of you. It was this girl, Alina. I lived with her for a bit when I was fifteen. She knew about it, about me. She assumed that's why I was there, at the convention. Denise - she must've been listening in. Or overheard us, or something. I didn't say I was psychic, but .. but it was heavily implied in our conversation."

"Ahhh," I said quietly, following Harlow's gaze towards the wall. "She's nosey. She'd have eaten that whole thing up .. "

Harlow nodded, but said nothing else.

We sat in silence for what felt like almost an hour - but in actuality, probably wasn't even more than five minutes. I was terrified to say anything. Harlow, I think, didn't know what to say. It was all over her face - her eyes were still dull and lifeless, but her face was a mess of emotions. Terror. Rage. Misery. Nausea.

"Harlow," I said softly, breaking the dead silence in the air. "You don't look good ... you're so pale, and you feel as cold as ice. I'm going to take you home, okay?"

She said nothing again, but gulped and closed her eyes.

"I'll stay here as long as you want me to, but I don't want you driving home, okay?" I said timidly. "Not the way you're - "

"I had it all," she said quietly, looking blankly still at the wall. "I had everything. I had such great friends. My marks were good. My team .. oh, my team. The best this school's had in years. I was happy."

"You've still got all of that," I said, wrapping an arm around her slight shoulders. "Don't talk like that, Lo. You've still got all of this. I promise, it'll all blow over."

"She called me a freak," she choked.

"Who did?"

"Sophie. My Sophie. She called me a freak."

I said nothing, but I fumed.

"The whole school thinks I'm nuts," she said, and I saw fat tears roll down her pallid cheeks. "What am I going to do? Everyone th-thinks I'm a freak!"

And she began to sob.

Not sniffling, timid, weeping. But sobbing. She shook violently, clinging on to my jacket with both hands. She gasped for breath, her face nuzzled against my shoulder. All I could do, all anyone I think could do, was sit here. Just sit. And hold her, let her cry. Let her get it all out. Let her wail and bawl until she couldn't anymore. How long we sat there, I have no idea. But by the time I was able to get her to stand up and come with me, the moon had already risen to it's highest point in the sky, and the stars were already twinkling benignly above us. She walked slowly, clutching my waist with her arm. Her face was swollen, damp with tears, nose red and raw.

"I'm a mess," she said softly, pawing the tears away from her cheeks.

"You're beautiful," I assured her, squeezing her shoulder lightly.

"What am I going to do?" she whispered, and I saw tears brim once more.

"You're going to go home," I said quietly. "I'm going to bring you up to bed. I'm going to tuck you in. And you're going to sleep, Harlow. You're sick and you're tired and you need to just forget, for a while. Okay?"

She nodded, and we stepped out into the student parking lot. Our cars were the only ones left.

"My car," she said softly. "I can't .. I can drive, Ryan. I'm fine."

"You can't even see where you're walking," I pointed out, as I steered her away from a pothole. "I'll drive you home, okay? We'll come back tomorrow and pick up your car, I promise. Right now, I just need to get you home."

"Will you stay?" she asked.

"Stay? Oh, I don't know - I don't want to intrude, Harlow - "

"You wouldn't," she said, and peered up at me.

Her eyes were puffy and still leaking great tears down her cheeks. Even in her sick, puffiness, I felt my heart skip a beat - she was still beautiful. Beautiful to me.

"Okay," I said, with a nod. "I'll stay."

"I just don't want to be alone," she said softly, walking a little more confidently now.

"I'll be there as long as you need me to be," I said in earnest.

She nodded, and I felt her cool, slightly damp hand reach up and give mine a little squeeze.

"Thank you."

And that, those two words, from then until the time I got her up into her bed, were all she said. The pain she was feeling - the embarrassment, the horror, the misery. It floated through the air the entire way home. The unspoken words, the silence - it was worse than the actual crying. That beautiful face, pale and twisted and torn by her anxiety, by her terror. The ease and beauty had been ripped away, been replaced with agony. She was alone in her heartache.

But the second I steered her into her bedroom, let her head hit that pillow - all that pain, it disappeared.

Her face was calm once more.

(Chip)

"It's coming."

His face was so familiar ... I'd seen it before, I had to have seen it before. He stared at me, the small boy. His dark brown hair flyaway, mussed up in a perfectly windswept way. His skin was darker, olive. What a beautiful boy, a handsome one - a boy like this, the apple of any woman's eye.

"What's coming?" I asked him, trying to reach out and touch his shoulder - he was too far away, just out of my grasp.

"Tell her," he said again, this time his voice foggy, distant - like he was talking through a long tunnel. "Tell her, warn her - it's coming."

I shook my head, shrugged my shoulders. "Tell who, son? Who?"

"Tell .. her ... please, tell her!"

His voice was even further away now, although he was just as close to me as he'd been before. He was panicked, his dazzling eyes wide and terrified.

"Tell who, tell - oh, oh!"

His face was bloating up - the olive tone losing color, becoming white, white, white. Tinged with blue. The veins bulging underneath. His whole body, swelling and losing color. Blue ran up and down his skin, pulsating. His lips spread in a scream, a scream that didn't come.

The lips shriveled, the pink fading to white, then brightening to blue, then to purple.

He screamed and screamed, but there was only silence, terrible, stomach-churning silence - his fattening hands pulled at his hair, yanking great chunks out.

I couldn't move, I was paralyzed with fear.

His skin fell in great pieces, wiped away into the air. He was disintegrating, right before my eyes - huge strips of flesh, gone and gone until he was nothing, just bones, just mangled skin. But his eyes - his eyes stared without seeing, with the fear still sunken in their depths.

"Tell who!" I shouted at him, stretching as far as I could, still just too far to reach him. "Tell who! What's coming!"

His eyes rolled up, up and away, the sockets of the skull now black - the brilliant green of his pupils, all that was left of him - disappeared into his skull.

I screamed.

"CHRIST!"

I was awake, oh Lord!

"Sweet Jesus," I muttered, reaching blindly at my side table for my glasses. "Lord Almighty, Sweet Mother Mary!"

I found them, shoved them roughly onto my face. I put a hand to my forehead - slicked with cold sweat. I was shaking, my whole body. Yikes - what a nightmare!

I peered over at the clock - 3:32 AM. Too early to wake up.

I flopped back down, head nestled comfortably in my dampened pillows. The soft ticking of my alarm clock and the faint wail of sirens in the distance. There was no noise, no distractions - nobody around. I tried to slow my frantic heart. Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

My heart slowed, my breathing regular once again. I hadn't had a nightmare like that in nearly a decade. But what was it about? I strained my mind, willing it to think back, to remember.

A boy. A boy swelling up, falling apart. Turning from beautiful to bones, in seconds. What did he look like? I don't know .. I couldn't remember. Handsome, I recall that. Familiar. But why was he familiar? The pieces were all there, scattered in my brain. I reached out, trying to collect all the bits, but they were zooming away faster than I could grasp. He kept saying something. It's coming, tell her. Tell who? What was coming? What did that mean?

I sighed, yanking my blankets up to my chin, eyes heavy once more. The puzzle of that dream, it was still only half put together. There were still gaping holes left, pieces I needed to find, to remember, to connect. But I was too tired. I couldn't think, I couldn't remember. Not right now. I needed to sleep.

"Tomorrow," I muttered, eyes heavy. "Tomorrow."

And as the dark blanket of sleep washed over me once more, one little piece of that puzzle floated through my mind;

Green.

Green what?

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'd know.

Authors Note:

HI HI HI HI. Sorry about the long time between updates, I had super duper nasty yucky writers block for half of this chapter. BLAH. Anyways! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THE PARANORMAL STATE BOARDS? I went to check out some updates a couple days ago and BAM - they're gone? I've sent them an email, but no response yet ... I urge everyone here to do the same. There are so many wonderful, amazing authors (and even more amazing readers!) that love that board. It's not fair that it was taken down. :( Why couldn't they have gotten rid of the Twilight board? Hmph. Oop - sorry! No offense to those who love themselves a little Edward and Bella.

Also, I urge you to story alert this little ficcy o' mine. And I'm not saying that to be all lame and over-confident or whateva else, it's simply because since the PS boards are down, I've had to move this to Misc. TV Shows or something, and there's like 5000 plus stories on this board alone ... you will never ever ever find it, or you'll spend 15 minutes in a blind rage searching through pages and pages of updates.

That was sad. I am sad. But not sad for long. Because of you amazing reveiwers! ON TO MY THANK YOU'S.

chicajenny: THANK YOU AGAIN! without you, i would've been sitting on my but staring blankly at the computer screen trying to figure out how to save my story. you. are. amazing. thank you thank you!

WinchesterAngel3389: YOU'RE BACK! my life was simply not complete without you :( unfortunately, i'm thinkin' your hate for sophie is only going to grow for the next couple chapters ... i try not to make people irate when they read my stuff, my apologies! BUT, all that matters is you're back, you beautiful reader/reviewer, and i missed you and adore you!

PSUPRS: YOU'RE SICK? i'm sending over an imaginary basket of fruit and muffins and soooo much wine. i hope you're feeling better! and i'm so glad you're back. you stop being sick, and then let's go to disneyland and be friends forever and ever. OKAYDEALZ.

xoxoMyRealityIsFiction: YES, BEAUTIFUL REVIEW! unfortunately, you're gonna have an even more severe hate-on for sophie in the coming chapters ... as for denise, i know she's not real, but let's make a lifesize doll of her and just throw mallets at her head, deal? you're wonderful, i love you more than i love flowers and sunshine, and thank you for the review!

silentC: THE MOST AMAZING LONG ASS REVIEW EVER, oh my LANTA do i love you! i am so terribly sorry to bring up bad memories of high school! but i remember chicks like that in my school too :( it's amazing how fast people can turn on you, as i've realized. i've had it happen, seen it happen, and it suuuuuucks. i think it was important to do it though, because you gotta have serious drama in every story right? but iagree with you. whack-a-denise is now sawed off shotgun in a woods denise. you and i, we're gonna DESTROY this fictional character, RAHHHHH. *puts on hunting clothes and lights a cigar*. i'm ready. you better tell me when you get your new story up! regardless of what kinda story, i would lovelovelove to read it! and responding to reviews is the least i can do, you all take your time to comment on my story, and you will neverevereverever know how much it's appreciated! I WUV YOU MORE, let's get married.

kcollins720: TWO REVIEWS, from my wonderful beautiful most loyal lovebug! your reviews never fail to make me smile and giggle and roll around in happy little balls! i adore you!

akahitoha: HELLO MY LITTLE CHERRY BLOSSOM, your review was so enthusiastic and wonderful it made me grin from ear to ear! and then i got stuck like that and people were scared ... BUT IT DIDN'T TAKE AWAY FROM YOUR BEAUITFUL REVIEW. i adore you. i love you. i want to be friends with you forever. i don't know if i tell you that enough, but i should. THANK YOU, DOLL!

You all simply make my life! I love and respect and adore all of you, and I could never ever ever thank you guys enough for the wonderful reviews I get :)

Now, on a side note, I was considering putting up a linky to my website thinger. It's actually just a big plotting device thinger for me, where I store all my information on the story in case my laptop goes kaput, but it's got photos and biographies and such on all the characters in the story! I personally hate seeing pictures of people in FanFics, because I like to make my own mental image of what they look like, but for those interested, lemme know! There's no spoilers on the site, but I have added little notes and stuff that might be helpful little hints :p

HAVE A GREAT WEEK, MY LOVELY READERS! Take care!

love; ellah!