Chapter Twenty-Five

Boobie Skin Touch And ABBA Karaoke

(Ryan)

"Please, please tell her! Tell her!"

She was frantic, the little girl before me. Her face was white, twisted in anguish, eyes sunken and mouth agape. Her feet were planted firmly in the ground, but her arms were stretched out, grasping at anything she could come in contact with. Her fingertips were literally only an inch or so from my shirt - I could feel the light air whooshing out from her spastically flailing hands.

"Who?" I asked, but I myself couldn't move even an inch. "Tell who?"

"You know! You know!" she screamed, her hands no longer reaching but grasping at her own head.

"I don't, please," I begged. "Who? Tell me, who?"

Her screams echoed all around me as the skin began to peel, the bones began to glow and the eyes burned with an emerald fire so terrible but so beautiful, I couldn't look away.

And as the blood began to pour from every inch of her ripped skin, seep from every torn scrap of flesh -

I woke.

(Harlow)

I had almost fallen asleep - in only a few seconds, I would've been completely conked out in my comfy, snug, warm bed.

But I felt his thrashing from beside me, my entire body jerking awake along with his.

I rolled over onto my side, clutching my sheets protectively in front of my chest - what a time not to be wearing a shirt. Fuck my life. Making sure there was no evident nipple peeps, I reached over to my bedside table, flicking on the lamp. It lit the room up with it's dim glow, illuminating Ryan's pale, dampened face.

"Ryan?" I said softly, my voice slightly hoarse. "Are you alright?"

He didn't say anything for a moment, just ran his hand over his handsome face. His breaths were coming in short gasps, and I noticed a slight tremor running through his lean torso. I peered sneakily at his naked chest - it was much thinner then I'd expected. Slight ridges from his ribs peeked out from under his skin, a shallow well where other men's stomachs were.

"I'm fine," he said a second later, leaning back slightly against the headboard. "Sorry."

"Bad dream?" I asked, rubbing my hand against his arm.

He nodded, shaking his head a little as if he were trying to rid his brain of the nightmare.

"I swear that never happens," he mumbled, grasping in slight embarrassment at the blanket.

"It happens to all of us," I said sympathetically. "The world is filled with nightmares."

He peered over at me, noticed the thin sheets clutched limply in front of my chest. I saw a slight grin flicker on his beautiful face, and I couldn't help the smile that slid onto mine as well. If ever in my life I'd felt as self-conscious - but inexplicably beautiful - as I did now, I sure didn't remember it.

He slid back down onto his side of the bed, looking sleepily up at my face. I smiled, flicked the switch on the lamp once more, and curled up next to him. The feeling of my skin on his - not just hands this time, or his cheek - was indescribable. My boobie was on his chest. My. Boobie.

Swoo-fuckin'-oon.

I felt his rough hand grip my shoulder, lightly but with comfortable pressure. I snaked a hand across his chest, resting my fingers in the narrow grooves of his ribcage. The smell of him - of cologne, slight musk and post-sexy time sweat - nearly sent me over the edge. If they bottled the fragrance of his skin, I would buy a million bottles, pour it into a pool, and just float around in it for the rest of my life. It was that amazing.

"I'm sorry," he said again, resting his chin on the top of my head.

I gave his chest a light peck, his side a soft squeeze. "Don't be. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I can honestly say, I've never been better."

I laughed, nuzzling my face into his side. "What did you dream about?"

He sighed. "That little girl."

"The one that keeps warning you about something?"

"Mhm."

"Weird."

"I know."

We fell into silence, still snuggled up against one another. I felt his chest rising and falling beneath my arm, felt the steady beat of his heart against my cheek. But still, my brain was ticking frantically. Another dream about that girl? It made me uneasy.

"When does your flight leave tomorrow?" I asked, my voice light with sleepiness.

"Six in the evening," he responded, his own smooth voice groggy. "Should be in Quincy by nine."

"I'm sorry I couldn't go," I said quietly. "Only I could be lucky enough to have an exam fall on that exact date. I really would've loved to come."

"It'll be interesting," he agreed. "Potentially demonic case. Sad, but nevertheless, fascinating."

"I feel so terrible for that poor girl," I sighed.

"Laura, yeah. She's your age, too."

"So young."

Another silence fell over us, this one comfortable and easy. I could feel the slow, steady breathing of Ryan beside me, and I knew he'd fallen asleep. This time, I hoped, a dreamless one. Myself? I wasn't sure if I was going to sleep much that night.

The nightmares and these weird premonitions Chip and Ryan had been having had gotten me spooked. More then I'd tried to let on, anyways. First Chick, sensing this terrible event headed my way. Now Chip and Ryan? Strange, wasn't it? One half of my brain was literally terrified, pulsating and freaking at the thought of something bad going to happen. But the other part of my brain, the reasonable one, the one that remembered everything I'd learnt in psychology, was irritated. Had I not been studying dream analysis for the past two years? Had I not just read a book about the subconscious' effect on individuals? Was I really going to let unfounded paranoia freak me out?

No. No I wasn't.

My reasonable brain sighed with relief, muffling out the paranoid half. I'd worry tomorrow, or the next day - or perhaps next year, even. Right now, I'd enjoy the night.

Or rather, enjoy the ridiculously attractive, butt naked man lying next to me.

Oh yes.

(Eilfie)

"Has anyone seen him?"

I pushed myself up off of the sunken couch in the living room, peering out into the darkened hallway. To my left, still curled in exhaustion on the couch, was Laura. To her left, Heather and Katrina were squished together on an armchair, and Sergey, Chip and Josh were seated on the couch on the opposite side of them. Ryan had disappeared nearly fifteen minutes ago, and we hadn't heard a peep out of him since.

We'd been in Quincy, Illinois for almost three days now. The case was much darker then any of us had expected - production team included. The house was dark, you could feel the oppression seeping from every corner of every room. It was like a perpetual dark cloud hanging over the quaint, cottagey home. Laura, the twenty four year old who was experiencing the most heinous activity of anyone, was the biggest shock of all.

She was thin, tiny and malnourished from the lack of sleep and lack of peace she'd been experiencing. There were black bags beneath her eyes, her hair thin and wispy from stress. A sweet girl, a creative girl - completely torn apart by the forces that had taken residence in her home. In her body.

The family had had enough. They'd gone through priest after paranormal team after priest, and they'd come up with no answers. We were their last hope.

I hadn't expected the damage we'd found here. No one had. Especially Ryan. I'd seen his eyes get darker, skin paler, as the days had ticked on. Now, by the third day, I could see him fading fast. He was exhausted, stressed - it was one of Ryan's few flaws. He'd let himself get too emotionally involved in the case. It would drain him, completely. All cases had that affect on him - but this one?

It looked like it was killing him.

Heather glanced up from her spot next to Katrina, motioned with her head to the kitchen. "I think he's out on the back porch."

Even Heather, who I couldn't remember ever looking, nevermind sounding exhausted, was looking a little worse for the wear. The playful sparkle had vanished from her eyes, was replaced with a blank look of fatigue. No one else on the team looked any better - the stress from the family was taking it's toll on everyone.

"I'll go check on him," I volunteered.

Nobody argued - it didn't matter where you went in the house, the darkness followed you everywhere.

I padded through the hallway into the kitchen, past a few of the remaining production team huddled in the kitchen. Even they were looking distinctly woebegone. I smiled politely, but caught sight of Ryan hunched over the banister of the porch. I beelined for the french doors.

Allowing them to snap shut quietly behind me, I heard the soft murmur of Ryan's voice and noticed his phone pressed against his ear. I was a second away from turning and walking back in the house, when he glanced over, caught my eye, and muttered a quick 'goodbye' before hanging up.

"Sorry," I said. "I didn't know you were on the phone."

"I was just saying goodbye, it's alright," he assured me, leaning back against the railing.

I noticed, with surprise, Ryan was looking a little better. Less pale, that's for sure. His eyes were brighter, more refreshed. He wasn't so tense, his body more relaxed then it'd been in days. I fought back a smile, the first real one I'd felt in days.

"Harlow?" I asked.

He smiled, gave a little nod. "Yeah."

"How is she?"

"Good. Great," he corrected, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Just returning her call, she left me a voicemail."

"Everything's okay with her?" I asked, walking over to the railing and leaning on it next to him.

He nodded. "She's great. Just been studying for exams, like everyone. Had her second of four this morning, thinks she did pretty well. She was just calling to see if I was alright."

I smiled. "She knows about the case, I assume?"

"I told her all about it last night," he sighed. "I was on the phone with her for over an hour. It was nice though ... it's good to vent."

"You look better," I noted.

He smiled. "Talking to her ... it makes me feel better."

"Does it?"

"Mhm. I feel ... happier, everytime I hear her voice. More at peace. Calmer."

"She has that effect," I agreed.

"Just something about her," he said softly.

We both stood in comfortable silence, looking at the dark house before us. As he glanced back into the kitchen, I saw his eyes darken again, and the look of dread fill his young face once more. I gave him a soft pat on the arm.

"Don't let it get to you," I said. "Think of Harlow, Ry. When it gets too hard, just think of her voice."

He nodded, and although the darkness didn't completely vanish from his eyes, I saw a slight ease wash over his face. The calm was back, fighting the anxiety - and apparently, winning.

"Her voice," he muttered. "It'll be alright."

I hoped so.

(Harlow)

"You're sureeee you don't want to come out tonight?"

I rolled my eyes, tucking my books back into my bag.

"I appreciate the thought, Linds, really I do. But if I don't start actually studying, I'll never pass."

She sighed, helping me heave my ginormous bag over my shoulder - I legit thought I was going to fall on my face, the sheer weight of this backpack was enough to sink a boat.

"Harlow, you could read the title of a textbook and still manage to pass your exams," Linds said in exasperation. "Two dollar shot night - and open karaoke! Jenn - yes, our Jenn - is going to be smashed, singing Abba. Are you really going to turn that down?"

I grinned at the thought, but my mind had already been made. "I can't, Linds, really - but get some video of it, alright?"

Lindsey stuck out her bottom lip, fluttering her eyelashes. "Kimmy's going to be so bummed, Lo! And Ryan's not even in town ... you can't coop yourself up in your apartment all week, you need to get out."

I shook my head. "It's not that, trust me. I'd love to come out, but I can't. Marbanks added a whole extra page to his exam, and it's all long answer."

Lindsey shuddered - those were the worst three words any college student could ever hear. All long answer. Barf.

"You poor, poor girl," Lindsey sighed dramatically. "Well alright, if there's long answer ... Kimmy will never forgive you, I hope you know."

"Oh I do," I said sadly. "Tell her I'll buy her an entire box of donuts next time I see her. That should make it up to her."

"You're a genius," Lindsey said with a grin. "I may be her best friend, but I swear you know her better then I do sometimes ... damn Psychic. I'll text you later!"

She gave me a one armed hugged, squeezed my shoulders lightly, and bounced off through the throngs of people now filling through the hallways. She'd disappeared less then a second later. I dragged my bookbag further up my arm, took one uneasy look at the jampacked hallways, and beelined back towards the Leeman corridor.

For some reason, the Leeman hall never seemed to be very busy ... in fact, more often then none, it was completely abandoned. Rumor has it, some thirty years ago, a girl was murdered in these very halls, and her body wasn't found for almost a week. It was a popular fable, one that made it's way around campus every year. But there was no history of any such death, especially not in the Leeman corridor. Just a rumor.

I knew, however, that this supposed story wasn't true. How many times had I walked down this hallway on my own? And late at night, no less? There was no spirit here. One of the only places on campus I couldn't sense one, truth be told. It was silent. No humming of spirits, no whirring of portals. No screaming, no moaning, no heckling. Of all the places at Penn State, this was one of my favorites.

It was the only place I could go for complete peace and quiet.

I bumped the door open with my hip, stepped into the cool air of the hallway. Dead empty. What a shock. I could barely contain the smile that was threatening to spill over my face - complete peace. Complete quiet. It was perfect.

The corridor wasn't too long - about thirty feet from one door to the next. But the entire left side was dominated by plate glass windows that looked out onto the front lawns of the library. I slowed my pace, peeked out into the open fields below me. There were students milling about - some seated, textbooks open and faces blank. Other were sitting on the low hills, talking, laughing. There was a group of guys, probably no older then myself, throwing around a football. The university was at peace.

But I had an uneasy feeling in my stomach, one I couldn't ignore. Everything was good, calm. Everyone was okay. Why did I feel like this was the calm before the storm?

I looked down again, felt my heart skip a beat. Directly below the large window was a man, early to mid thirties. He was standing very still, peering up at me with strangely blackened eyes. His mouth was downturned, skin pale as snow. He was wearing a military suit, khaki green and perfectly pressed. His hands were stiff at his sides, feet planted firmly in the ground. But what startled me most - the gaping wound, raw but unbleeding, in his right side.

A spirit, no doubt. They rarely startled me anymore, but I'd never seen this one before. And he was staring right at me - I think anyone would've been spooked. I nodded, smiled as politely as I could, but I felt my heart jump again. About ten feet behind him, a girl, standing exactly like the army man.

And staring at me.

A shallow wound in the top of her head, hair knotted and tangled with coagulated blood. Her face pretty, but eyes serious and just as black as the other man's. Hands straight at her thin sides, feet firmly in the ground.

My heart began to thump rapidly, my stomach churning in painful knots. They were everywhere, the spirits - behind the girl, a younger male. To his right, an old man. In front of him, a middle aged woman. All black eyes. All standing very still. All staring. At me. How could I have missed that?

I took a step back from the window, my arms trembling. Students continued to mill about the grounds, walking around, through and past all the unmoving statues of the dead. Their black eyes followed me, bore into me with no mercy.

My bookbag dropped to the ground, but I didn't really pay attention to it. I felt dizzy, fuzzy. The world was spinning, but still their eyes were glaring into me, shooting looks of the utmost contempt. I didn't understand - what was happening?

I stooped down, balancing on my feet, knees drawn up to my face. I closed my eyes, willed the images to go away, to leave my mind. But the shadows of those people, of their eyes - they stayed. I focused on my breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In. Out. In. Out.

My heart calmed a little, but was still racing much faster then usual. The world had stopped spinning, but I was still terrified, unwilling to open my eyes. My feet were firm on the carpeted floor, but I refused to move. I kept all my focus on my breathing.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In -

"Harlow?"

My eyes popped open - with a wave of relief, I realized that the spinning had absolutely come to a halt - and I peered up from my knees.

Sophie.

She had two or three textbooks grasped against her front, her eyes focused down on me. Her honey blonde hair drawn up in a messy bun, those piercing baby blues staring wearily. Her knuckles were white from clutching her books so hard.

I began to rise, faltering slightly but catching myself before I could stumble or stagger. I looked down into the grounds - nothing. There was nobody there anymore. Just students. Sitting, laughing, studying. No more spirits. Had I gone crazy?

"Are you alright?" Sophie asked, but her voice wasn't nearly as icy as I imagined it would've been.

It was much lighter now, much more cautious. Almost worried. I barely took notice, though - I was still staring down onto the campus grounds. I shook my head a little, looked over at her. Willing myself to forget what I had just seen - or, had I really even seen anything?

"Fine," I said, but the ice that was no longer evident in her voice seemed to have transferred into mine. "I'm alright. Just felt a bit dizzy."

"Exams," she said sympathetically. "You never did eat properly during them."

"I'm eating fine," I said simply, gathering my bag and fallen papers from the floor. "I just felt a bit dizzy."

"Maybe you're dehydrated?" she offered. "I'm just heading to the Juice Bar, if you wanted to .. "

She trailed off, but I felt intense irritation erupt in my brain. I didn't feel surprised or flattered or relieved - who the fuck cared if she was talking to me? Besides game day, she hadn't managed to say even one word to me in over four weeks. Why the hell would I care now? The same beast, that identical monster that had taken over at last week's volleyball game was back, and with a vengeance.

"I'll pass," I said, my voice much sharper then it'd ever been. "I've got other things to do."

That was never something I would've said - I felt the shock tingle through my entire system, but I couldn't help the smug feeling that was washing through me either. It was like game day all over again ... I was stronger then I'd ever been. I just didn't know how it was possible.

Instead of giving me her usual stink eye and some offhanded insult, she simply nodded, pushed a piece of her hair back behind her ear, and walked off down the rest of the hallway. There was a strange look in her eyes, I'd caught it before she turned. It was confusion. Shock. Hurt. I watched her as she walked away, grinned as she disappeared through the metal doors. I'd hurt her - she would've never admitted it, but I'd hurt her.

Why, then, did it feel so good?

(Ryan)

"That was just awful."

Kat's voice was raspy, gravelly with the little sleep she'd had in the last few days. There were deep bags beneath her eyes, her skin much paler then usual. There was a sunken look to her face, a strange almost gaunt hollowness I'd never seen before.

But that's what demonic cases did to people, wasn't it?

I nodded, but kept my eyes on the road. I wasn't tired, I'd slept better last night then I had the past three. But I felt drained, confused. Upset.

"We did everything we could," I said, more to convince myself then her. "I think the prayer will work ... if we can get people all over the world to just say a prayer for that family, I think they'll be alright."

Katrina nodded, but didn't look particularly convinced.

It was just the two of us, driving back towards Pennsylvania. We'd be home in a little more then 8 hours, but the journey was depressing. Although we were both exhausted, both physically, emotionally and mentally drained from the week's case, it was nice to be alone. I loved the team, and so did Katrina, but right now neither one of us felt like listening to Heather's cheerful chatter, or Sergey's relentless questions or Josh's perpetual pessimism. We just wanted calm.

I kept straight down the highway, the sun sinking slowly beneath the road before us. We had left Quincy too late, we'd have to stop somewhere for the night.

Katrina leaned back against the headrest, feet propped up against the dashboard.

"I'll just be glad to get home," she said softly.

"Me too," I agreed. "My own bed. A good night's sleep."

"I feel like I haven't slept in years," Kat sighed. "I had this horrible nightmare a couple nights ago, the first evening we were on the case. I don't think I've slept properly since."

It was just an offhand comment, but a light went off in my brain. I feigned nonchalance, kept my eyes on the road, but decided to push a little further. Ever since I'd started having these strange, reoccurring nightmares, I couldn't help but wonder how many other people - if any - were having them as well.

"Nightmare, eh?" I said casually. "About what?"

Katrina sighed, ran a hand through her hair - my heart skipped a beat, it was such a Harlowish thing to do. I felt my stomach flop miserably - I hadn't seen Lo in days.

"I don't even know what it was about," she said, peering out the window. "I can't remember everything about it. All I remember is that it was from my point of view, and all I could see was this little girl in front of me."

I felt the air catch in my throat, but I struggled to keep my composure.

"Little girl?" I asked.

"Yeah, " Kat said, mouth down-turned. "I don't even know what it was about ... it was this little girl, and she was this beautiful little thing. Never seen a child so breath-taking before in my life, truth be told. Thick brown hair, these big bright eyes, porcelain skin. Just flawless."

"What's so terrifying about that?" I asked, my voice squeaky.

Katrina didn't seem to notice - she was deep in thought. "And she was standing in front of me, and she kept saying something ... like, tell them or something .. I don't remember - I'm coming? It's coming? I - "

"Tell her, warn her, it's coming," I said monotonely, heart racing a mile a minute.

Katrina looked over at me, brow furrowed. "Yeah ... tell her, it's coming. But how did you - "

"And then she started to rot, right in front of your eyes," I said, knowing exactly what Kat had seen - I'd seen it too.

"Ryan," Katrina said softly. "How .. how do you know that?"

"Because I've had that exact dream," I sighed. "So has Chip."

"But ... how could we have all had the same dream?" Katrina asked, frowning.

"I don't know," I said quietly. "But tell me something. This little girl, what do you remember most about her?"

"That she was beautiful," Katrina said blankly, hands grasping her knees so tightly her knuckles had gone white. "Inhumanly beautiful."

"But what else," I pressed, not wanting to hear it but knowing it was coming. "What do you remember, even after she'd fallen to pieces, what do - "

"The eyes!" Katrina gasped, and I nearly swerved into a ditch at her abrupt panic. "Green! Harlow's green!"

I grimaced, steadied the car back onto the highway. Nailed it.

"But what does that mean?" she asked me, looking completely flabbergasted. "This girl, that little girl - was that Harlow?"

"I don't think so," I said truthfully. "I don't know who it is, or .. or what. But I've had that dream four times now, Chip's at two. And it's always the same - 'warn her, it's coming'."

"Warn her. Her as in ..." but she couldn't finish the sentence.

"I don't know," I said quietly.

"What could be coming?" Katrina whispered, blank eyes turned back onto the road.

"Something bad, apparently," I said. "I don't know ... maybe it's just a dream though. Maybe we're all overreacting."

"Maybe," Katrina said, but I could tell she was lying.

And so was I.

What was coming? And who was trying to warn us? The little girl and the little boy? Them? But what did they know about Harlow, how were they connected to her? Now it hadn't only been Chip and I that had sensed something, it had been Katrina too. Chip made sense - he was from Harlow's past, wasn't he? She remembered him, knew him as a child. If something bad was going to happen, naturally they'd warn someone they knew could help her. And me? Maybe it was because I was romantically involved with her? Maybe they thought she'd listen to me before anyone else.

But now Katrina? It didn't make sense ... sure Harlow and Kat got along well. But they hadn't known each other any longer then she and I had. And I hardly thought they were close friends ... Harlow seemed closer to Heather then any of the team, and Heather undoubtedly would've mentioned it if she'd been having strange dreams. It seemed to me that this little girl and boy were trying desperately to communicate with anyone.

Anyone they thought could warn Harlow.

I just wish I knew what they wanted to warn her about.

(Harlow)

"I'm home."

I dragged myself into the front room, hair I'm sure frazzled and makeup smeared all over my face. I was exhausted, holy mother of God.

I kicked the door shut behind me, let my bags plop down on the floor. I had never in my life - and I mean never - been so glad to be home. Everything was inviting. My mess of coats and shoes on the hardwood floors. My wacky Salvation Army lamp on the front table. The dull buzz of the television set. The smell of Febreeze, coconuts and candles. This was home - I was home.

THANK. GAWWWWWD.

I dragged myself through the hallway leading into the living room - as usual, Chick was perched atop the sofa, staring in severe boredom at the television set. She was watching Golf.

"Golf?" I said in amusement, plopping down in the love seat adjacent. "Didn't take you for a golf fan."

"As fascinating as it is - and let me assure you, there's no sport more thrilling - I just sat down."

I smiled, her usual snide sarcasm a relief. She'd been so on the edge lately, it was nice to hear her reverting back to her former self. Even if her former self was a little irritating.

"You're home late," she noted, nodded at the wall clock.

I peered up, felt my stomach flop. "Past midnight! Jesus!"

"12:32, I thought you'd died," she said blandly. "Although the irony in me thinking that is almost too hilarious to handle."

I grinned, snuggling down against the poofy arm of the chair. I swear I smelt a hint of old spice in the cushion - my heart spasmed a little.

I'd almost forgotten - Ryan was home tomorrrow! Or today, rather, since it was now after midnight ... but he was coming home! Four days had legitimately felt like an eternity. What I'd give to see that handsome face again, to smell that beautiful smell ... to ride that gorgeous di -

"Were you studying this whole time?" Chick asked, my raunchy day dream slipping away.

"Unfortunately," I said, trying to gather my thoughts from the gutter. "Yeah ... Couple days and it'll all be over with."

We both sat in silence for a couple of minutes, before I strained my head around to look up at the clock. Ugh. I had to be up in a couple of hours ... stupid volleyball practice.

"I'm going to crash," I informed Chicky, my body screaming in protest as I crawled away from the warm chair. "Gotta be up at seven."

"Have a good sleep," she said, eyes still focused on the simply thrilling game on the screen.

I grabbed the remote, flipped over to the history channel. She grunted in thanks, and I padded across the room and down the hall into my bedroom.

(Chick)

"Three days after the Valentines Massacre, Senator Pascal agreed to sign the treaty. A move that would go down in history as one of the best decisions the small country of Peru had made in generations."

"So that's how it ended," I muttered.

I glanced at the clock again - 1:13. Harlow'd undoubtedly be in bed by now. How nice it must've been, to sleep like that. I couldn't remember the last time I had ... I don't think I even remembered what it felt like, to sleep. To dream.

I was a dream, wasn't I? I wasn't real to anyone anymore. Anyone except Harlow, that is.

From across the room, I jumped a little at the abrupt ringing of the telephone. I frowned. Who'd be calling this late? It was nearly 1:30 in the morning ... did no one have any respect or decency anymore?

I strained my ears, which wasn't hard (when you're dead, your five senses seem to intensify ... might as well get some kind of cool gift, right?), heard the beeping stop after about the fourth ring. Harlow must've picked it up in her bedroom.

I was content, very content, to continue watching my documentaries, but there was a noise coming from Harlow's room that kept me from doing exactly that. It was strange .. a little moaning at first, then high pitched squealing, and then ...

sobbing.

Full on, heart-wrenching, out of control sobbing.

(Sophie)

I swear to God, two seconds later and I wouldn't have even picked up.

In fact, right now and I really didn't think I was going to.

Even under three pillows, I could hear that incessant ringing, that awful beeping. The stupid, God damn phone. I hated it. Oh God, how I hated it.

I threw the pillows off my head, reached blindly in the dark for that good for nothing Blackberry. I swear, I'd only had it a couple of weeks but I was already ready to throw it out the window. I could already tell you who it was. One of two people. Either my Mum, calling me drunk to tell me how much of a disappointment I was. Or two, Natalie, asking if I remembered where she lived and what side of the condom was the inside and which was the outside.

After the last month, I really didn't have a lot of friends calling anymore ...

So you can imagine my surprise - complete and total shock - when I grabbed the phone, peered blearily at the ID, and saw Harlow's name illuminated in shiny neon print.

To answer, or not to answer - that was the question.

... I answered.

The other end of the line was a little fuzzy, and at first I thought it was static. After a split second though, I realized it wasn't the connection at all - it was Harlow. She was crying.

"Hello?" I said, willing the sleep out of my voice. "Ahem - sorry. Harlow? Are you okay?"

She didn't respond at first, her choking gasps and hiccups not allowing her to. I sat up a little in bed, pulled my knees up under my chin.

"Lo? It's Sophie, listen, are you alright? Where are you, do you need me to come get you?"

"S-sophie," she shuddered, sniffling and gasping for air. "Soph."

"I'm here, Lo, what's up?" I asked again, feeling my heart thudding in my chest.

It didn't matter that we hadn't talked in weeks, that we were on the outs for the better part of this entire last month. My head was filling rapidly with these terrible mental images ... Harlow alone in a dark alley, or in some weird guy's trunk or ... bleeding on some curb somewhere. My mind was alert, snapping into consciousness much quicker then I ever thought possible. Wherever she was, I'd help her ... she must've been in trouble.

But the next words out of her mouth not only disproved this theory, but sent me into my own downward spiral of panic, shock and complete and utter misery:

"Sophie," she choked. "Soph. It's Kimmy - she's dead."

Author's Note:

My heart, it breaks :( I'm gonna make this quick, because I'm legit writing the next chapter as we speak, trying to brush my hair, whitening my teeth and painting my nails. THE BEST AT MULTI-TASKING, THAT'S ME. My thank you's;

xoxoMyRealityIsFiction (HAHAH YES, let's boggle our brains out ;) ), PSUPRS (MY LOVELY SORA! hahaha the chapter was bipolar. BIPOLAR LIKE MEEE ... but not actually, hope you enjoyed the chappy love you long long time!), kcollins720 (i'm terrible i know i know! but here's the answer to the cliffy, in the form of another cliffy!) and WinchesterAngel3389 (oh barf work! hope you enjoyed the chapter, i lovealovea you!).

I know this chapter was a little depressing ... but it's only going to get worse. Bear with me okay? I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH, see how speedy I was at updating? *bows*

love; ellah! xo