a lot of the angst here was inspired by The Sorrows Of Young Werther by Goethe. just thinking about it makes me tear up, honestly if that book doesn't break your heart its safe to say you dont have one. still i would recommend it if you can appreciate the heights and depths of the human soul. Broaden your horizons and they will brighten by default.

i wrote this chapter weeks ago and it still makes me sad. i think it goes without saying that i was aiming to break my faithful readers hearts with this. Also, i dont usually do this but i implore you to make use of youtube and listen to the song. just trust me.

Fun Fact: the master copy of this story is saved on my computer as "hemlock for algernon"

Tom Waits – Green Grass

Jason crept down the hill to her bedroom window. Her cottage was built in such a way that it stood above the slope and the rain washed trench that cut the hill short, standing on its stilts. It could have been plucked right from the pages of a fairy tale.

She lay on her side, half covered by a few sheets after having kicked off her quilt. She frowned in her sleep and cuddled a pillow. Suddenly she stirred, her eyelids fluttered and so startled Jason that he jumped down from the slope and crouched under the cottage. She must have heard the thud of his boots because her bed springs creaked and her footsteps padded over Jason's head until he heard the squeaky screen door open and shut. Jason craned his neck to see her step out and lean on the railing facing the lake. She wore a dark flannel shirt and long, loose shorts. She lit a cigarette and sighed deeply. Jason glowered his disapproval at the action, stepped forward some and crushed a twig. The crackle startled them both.

Charlotte glared into the dark where the noise came from, calling out firmly, "Who's there?" Jason huffed a laugh. It would always amaze him at the sheer volume of times people had asked this question as if expecting an answer. But he knew he'd been caught and Charlotte would be angry with him if he stayed watching her in the shadows. When he stepped out from under the cottage and straightened to his full height the relief showed on her face. She was happy to see him; something that he would never get used to. At least, he hoped he wouldn't.

"I knew it was you! You woke me up, I think. I was sure I heard you."

Sorry, he motioned, though he wasn't sorry at all. Regardless, she waved away his apology.

"That's alright, Jason." She watched him curiously for a while, breathing in and out her smoke. "Lonely tonight?" He gave no answer, but she seemed to read him anyway. What else would he have been doing here? He stood stock still despite her urging him to join, "I can't go over there and get you; I'm not wearing shoes and the ground is muddy." When Jason still refused to move she grew more animated. "I'm going inside to get a blanket. You better be on this deck when I get back." The idle threat amused him enough to make him comply. He would have been more than happy to watch her sleep through the night, but fate seemed to be putting his best case scenario to shame. The pillar of smoke swirling from an ash tray attracted his attention; he stubbed the thing out.

Not a minute later, Charlotte returned with her promised blanket. "Glad I didn't actually have to come and get you. I'm still not wearing shoes." Jason's eyes followed her as she went to retrieve her cigarette only to find it crushed. She shot him a look that was amused, annoyed and not at all surprised, but she said nothing about it. She tucked her leg under her bum as she sat on the bench, motioning Jason to sit next to her. Naturally, he was powerless to resist. She offered him half the blanket but he declined, so she wrapped it around herself. She leaned against his side for all of a moment before noticing something with a smile. "You're wearing the sweater I made you."

When Jason made no kind of response she rested her head on his broad shoulder, her nose barely tickling his throat. They sat like that for a long time, quiet and peaceful. Jason felt entirely at ease. When Charlotte shivered faintly, his body acted on its own. He laid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Instinctively, she snuggled closer to him, fitting into his side as best she could, so that he dwarfed her folded body. Greedily, he breathed her in. Underneath the off-putting smell of smoke she smelled wonderful. She must have heard his excited heart.

Her head rose and fell with the baritone thump. "Your heartbeat is so strong," she marvelled quietly. From his angle looking down at the crown of her head, Jason admired the way her eyelashes fluttered above her cheekbones as her lids grew heavier.

They sat like that while Charlotte dozed and soon fell asleep again. Jason couldn't sleep, not with her so close to him, clinging to him. She clenched a fistful of sweater like a lifeline.

The way her arm fell stretched her shirt and exposed some of her collarbone. Jason refrained from admiring the vivid skeletal display in the way he wanted to. Instead, he stroked her shoulder and shut his eyes completely. Eventually, when the crickets soothing calls had done their job, Jason stopped moving and simply held Charlotte there like a doll. It didn't occur to him at the time, but she was holding him in exactly the same way she held her pillow.

The only thing that shook Jason out of his quiet state was a simple, sleeping gesture, completely unplanned. Charlotte's hand lost its grip on his shirt and slid down limply where it rested on the juncture of his thigh.

Almost immediately a fire sprung up inside him. He nearly flinched at the power held in the action that fed this coiling, blazing heat in his belly. He had never felt anything like it before and it frightened him to a degree, being completely unsure how to react. He had to put out the fire somehow, but he was unwilling to move even slightly. Charlotte was so peaceful beside him... was she the cause of the fire?

Every fraction of a twitch triggered another wave of molten heat; Jason wasn't sure exactly what was happening to him, but he knew that he couldn't stand it much longer. The strangest part was that it felt good. Extremely so, which was why he was so worried about his possible reactions. He couldn't see the future. But he did know how he tended to react to alien and novel experiences, particularly ones as intense and all-consuming as this. The world could end around them and Jason would remain oblivious. The real chaos was in his head.

Jason had a very real belief in Heaven and Hell, grounded mostly within Reward and Punishment. They weren't places as concrete as his Crystal Lake, they were states of being. If one is good then one is rewarded in a variety of ways, the best of which is happiness. Being in a state of permanent elation. Hell is like this in the polar opposite; the worst punishment would be a state of constant sorrow. This sophisticated belief was not the one his mother taught him, rather is was the sum of the parts of what his mother had taught him. Jason had never seen a map with an arrow pointing to Heaven, or a road sign that said Hell: Exit Next Right, so they were as good as imaginary.

Heaven was exactly where he was now. But that intense and insane heat had him convinced that this was Hell also.

With considerable effort, Jason forced some feeling back into his tingling limbs so he could reposition Charlotte's hand in such a way that he could forget it had ever existed. He could feel his own hand resisting because of something he had refused to acknowledge until it had been thrown directly into his face. Or more precisely, his mask. With the inadvertent contact lost, the flames under Jason's skin were doused, as he predicted. The piercing, chemical hum of silence once again reigned, but Jason could only hear the depressing tone of his thoughts.

He knew that she couldn't love him the way he loved her. No matter how they connected and no matter how much she tried to convince him otherwise, they were incompatible on a fundamental level. He was ugly. Not in the wishy-washy "eye of the beholder" way. He had always known he way ugly and even though it had not been something he chose he had learned to live with it. Perhaps he hadn't developed the healthiest of coping mechanisms, but as long as he remained in a state of non-judgement, he was alright. He was almost happy.

Charlotte's attachment to him and his attachment to her (arguably stronger by an order of magnitude) could present a problem. She had said she had no problem with the mask, "his secrets" as she put it, but there would come a time when she changed her mind. It was inevitable, but he could not let that boundary be crossed. Selfishly, he needed her. He needed her compassion, her liberal touches, even now as she was cuddled up next to him without a care in her dreamy head he felt as if she belonged there, under the crook of his arm. Jason could not live with himself if he lost her.

If she ever wanted Jason to lift his mask, he knew that she could make him do it. Only she could. Because he wanted her to as much as he didn't. It put a quake in his bones.

But she would reject his advances without any doubt. She couldn't possibly find him attractive. He couldn't acknowledge how much this hurt because he couldn't pry himself away from her. Eventually he thought he might have to, but by no means did he want to.

If something were to cause it, some chain of events were to lead to Jason taking action on behalf of his attraction to her, she would never accept. Because he was ugly. Because he was a murderer. Because she was the only woman to show him affection since his mother. Because she was afraid of his dormant feelings towards her. Because she wanted friendship more than companionship, which Jason did as well, but sill it was hard to draw a line when he wanted so much of her.

If he could ever find the initiative to forgo caution with Charlotte and express his feelings to her, his Lotte, she would reject him. Not because she hated him, not because she wanted to, even, but because it was her nature. Jason believed she deserved better. And he would sacrifice himself for her happiness, even if it meant his.

He could just imagine the look of horror poisoning her limitless smile from the realization that this was the face of the monster she had grown so close to. The cruel words that would spill from her lips and his inability to comfort her and soothe her. She would cut him deeply and run from him. And what would he do then? He would be lost.

Charlotte made a little noise of discomfort in her sleep which shook Jason out of his trance. He was nearly crushing her shoulder, so absorbed with his fearful thoughts that he had not noticed his grip grow steadily rougher. He loosened his fingers hastily but without releasing the tension in his own bones, searching her face for any sign of waking. But she was in a very deep sleep, undisturbed, and Jason felt a huge wave of relief. He had not hurt her. She knew nothing.

Some light-hearted birds began chirping; morning must have been closer than he thought. Or he had simply been sitting there with Charlotte, so preoccupied with his worries and her calm that time had passed far too quickly. He would have liked to have her this close to him for ages. Charlotte would not be waking up anytime soon, not until the afternoon in all probability. Jason had work to do. Summer was right around the corner, after all.

With exceedingly gentle hands, he lifted her up and supported her with one arm like she was weightless. He brought her inside to her bedroom where he laid her down carefully before piling blankets on her. She clutched at them in her sleep and looked cold, so Jason went to her closet where he remembered there was a spare comforter. When he was satisfied that she would not be cold in the spring morning he stroked her cheek with his thumb, then covered it with his palm. To his intense surprise, she leaned into his hand and nuzzled against it.

The sight of his Lotte; her sleeping, soft features under his dirty fingernails and murderous hands looked like a hideous parody of a romantic moment. Jason felt the urge to leave, but his feet were rooted. She was oblivious in her sleep. Oblivious, but responsive.

He crouched beside her bed, unblinking eyes searching her face for signs of awareness and found none. Her eyes looked upon a tennis match under their lids. Jason had to strain to hear his shallow breath, even though his heart was pounding frantically. He knew she was dead asleep yet still he was expecting her eyes to shoot open the second he got close enough to breathe the same air as her.

Her eyes did not open. Her breathing didn't change. She didn't move. Jason's mind was finally silent. After an endless moment of silent deliberation, he lifted his mask and held it in one hand. Tentatively, he grazed his thumb over the swell of her bottom lip. She still did not move. He pressed his lips to hers, deciding upon contact that no man-made material could compare its softness to that of her lips because she was divine. He could have stayed like that for an eternity and it would never be enough. When he finally did pull away she still had not moved. She didn't know. She would never know.

thoughts? broken hearts? dont despair, its not over yet, promise.

xoxo