DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters (besides the original ones (Kasey, Cole, Layla, Andrew, Luke etc.)). They're Stephenie Meyer's toys, I'm just playing with 'em. All music is also property of the respective artists and their record labels, I just borrow.


Recommended Listening for this chapter;;
* Preparedness – The Bird and the Bee
* Haunting – Anberlin
* Picking up Pieces – Blue October
* Been Down – Blue October
* I'm So Sick – Flyleaf



I could hear the echo of my footsteps as I padded down the unfamiliar long, sterile white hallway. Periodically, the fluorescent lights overhead – brilliant and twice as bright in the white hall – flickered as I passed under them, pulled on by a quiet force which propelled me to the end of the hallway.

The dark grey doors at the end of the hall swung as I approached, my name carried on the whispers of strange breeze that pushed them, caused them to sway hypnotically.

"Kasey…"

What are you doing? A voice in the back of my mind warned ominously as I touched the grey doors, cool to the touch, and stilled them, pausing just outside what lay behind them momentarily. Ignoring the warning, I pushed through the swinging doors, following the pulling feeling in my cut which could not, would not be denied. Walking through the grey doors, I allowed them to swing closed behind me.

Ultimately, it was not difficult to understand exactly where I was once I entered the room completely.

Though bright with overhead lights, the room seemed bleak, void of hope; even the window, small, rectangular and fixed at the top of the far wall which allowed a small amount of light to seep into the room seemed ominous. Along the wall to the left, small doors labeled with names I did not recognize sat closed, handles locked in place with identical thick gold fastenings, key locks.

A cold metal slab shone abandoned and almost too sterile in the center of the room. Upon approaching, I could see the metallic implements lain out on a sliding tool tray; scalpels and bone cutters, cameras and hand saws.

A morgue.

"Kasey…"

The whispering sound of my name, unusually loud and unsettlingly close, broke the silence, causing the hair on the back of my neck to rise slightly as I twisted to find the source of the voice.

"Hello?" I could hear my own voice call to the disembodied one, but I couldn't remember – pressed against the cool slab at the center of the room in a rising sense of fear – ever opening my mouth to do so.

Silence answered my query; frightening in its own respect.

I waited in the silence for what seemed like an eternity before I coaxed my frozen legs to move. However, in the moment my foot inched forward across the tiled floor with the intent to lead me from the ill begotten place, a silence shattering clatter frightened my body to stillness once more.

When the courage had built for some time and I finally mustered a nip of bravery to look around for the noise, it did not take my long to find – on immaculate white tiling – the cause of the noisy disturbance. Sitting on the floor, near the wall of tightly secured doors which were labeled with names I would have rather not have recognized, sat a golden lock, its golden glint catching my eye and holding my attention rapt.

Furrowing my brow, I cautiously approached the lock, slightly confused as I crouched low to gather the unlocked security device in my grasp, to inspect it; unlocked it seemed, without a key…

Drawing my eyes up slowly from the lock in my suddenly trembling hand, I allowed my vision to scan the small, labeled doors, finally settling on one… the only one without a lock. Pushing myself into a standing position, my eyes focused on the label on the small rectangular door protruding slightly from the wall; Olesky, J.

The lock fell to the floor once more with a muted thud as it fell from my hands; my feet no longer frozen as I slowly propelled my body backwards. No, this wasn't happening… this couldn't be real. As I backed away, I watched the handle on the small door on the wall compress itself, releasing the catch, allowing it to creek open on its hinges until it hit the metal behind it with a clank when it was wide open.

My entire body shook as I continued to watch – eyes wide in horror – as the tray hidden behind the small door on the wall slowly pulled itself out as if by some invisible hands, working away as if I was not there to witness the ghostly occurrence. It was not long before the tray was fully extended, a white sheet, immaculate and flawless, covered a bumpy, misshapen object beneath it.

I could feel the texture of the swinging door behind me now and suddenly, I no longer felt compelled to be within the room. I knew what came next… I'd watched too many horror movies to not know and I was not keen on sticking around. Pressing against the door, I waited for it to give way as the slab, covered by a white sheet, sat unmoving, stilled. Expecting to slip right through, stumble even with the applied weight, I felt the panic rise in my chest as the doors held against my pressure.

Ripping my eyes away from the slab, I concentrated frantically on the uncooperative doors which had once swung so freely either way. Throwing my shoulder into it, a sob slipped past my lips when I realized, it was no longer an exit option… it had been open not but a minute ago, hadn't it?

Eyes skittering across the room, they fell on the narrow window at the top of the far wall, the last of two exit options. Quickly, I took off toward it, grabbing the rolling slab to use as something to stand upon to reach the high window. Pushing it flush against the wall with a rather loud clatter, I scrambled, all the while fighting the wheels which rolled on their own accord under the pressure of my weight, on top of the table, pushing myself to my feet once I had managed to do so. Reaching up, I grasped the small window sill, searching for a catch that I might undo to escape the suddenly small space which got smaller by the second. The tips of my fingers had just brushed the latch when I heard it again.

"Kasey…"

My name; now undeniably raspy, harsh… frightening.

Trembling, I swept my hand back across the sill to feel the latch once more, to pry it open hurriedly as I threw a glance back over my shoulder. However, instead of the latch, I caught the tips of my searching digits on something sharp, something that cut through my skin as easily as a hot knife through butter. Sucking air in sharply through my teeth, I pulled my hand back with a hiss. Blood seeped from the deep cut like water from the fault lines on a cracked vase, spilling over my finger in a steady succession of rouge. Gripping my finger
the blood trickled over my closed fist. Clean cuts always hurt the most, ironic.

There was a slapping sound, the sound of bare feet on tile that caught my attention though part of me didn't want to turn and face where the sound was coming from.

What my eyes touched twisted my innards harshly, stirred the bile in my stomach violently. I felt like I wanted to be ill, a sour taste invading my mouth as if I was going to be while my legs shook uncontrollably beneath me, threatening to give out at any moment without warning.

Standing before me, his leg twisted oddly beneath him, a patch of scalp missing from the left side of his head, exposing bleached bone and skin tattered and frayed like the ends of ribbon, was Jeremy. He wasn't looking at me, his eyes directed toward his own discoloured chest as his fingers, some scraped to the bone, touching the huge stitched 'Y' shaped incision that had once split his body open for autopsy purposes. The air was rank with rot and moist soil…

Sliding off the wheeled slab, away from the one last escape that I could have hoped for – now barred I realized – a hand wandered up to cover my mouth, suppressing a gag as a wave of bile surged up my throat and burned, smudging blotches of blood onto my pallid skin as I did so.

His tousled hair was matted with mud and shimmered with shards of broken glass; it didn't look soft like I had remembered it being the last time I had touched him, my hands aching now with the memory of the contact. Warm tears streaked my cheeks, mixing with the blood splotched there and turning a tinged pink.

Removing my hand from my mouth, I battled past the bile for a moment, a stitch in time wherein I felt my lips form the vowels and consonants, my voice filling in the movements of my lips with a whisper…

"Jeremy?"

Suddenly his head jerked up, startled as if he hadn't noticed my presence until I had spoken. At first his features, grim, disturbing and disfigured, were confused as his eyes – no longer beautiful and blue like I had remembered – filmy and almost unseeing found me at the far end of the room. However, after a moment his mangled face softened ever so slightly.

"Kasey?" His marred lips formed my name and my heart skipped in an almost elation. Despite my horror, I missed his voice, missed the warmth of his words on my throat when he whispered my name before kissing me. I missed my Jeremy and my heart echoed my feelings with a painful ache.

Looking down on himself once more, Jeremy turned his sightless eyes to me once more. "What's wrong with me?"

I killed you… My lips trembled as the thought crossed my mind, the sickness rising once more to replace the light feeling of hearing his voice again; something I had once thought was impossibility. "I- I… I Jeremy I'm so sorry…"

"What did you do to me, Kasey?" His voice trembled as he spoke as if an anger wanted to badly replace the light tone. "What did you do?!"

Blame, this is what I had been waiting for, this is what I deserved… this is why I had been punishing myself for so long. "We were in an accident…" I took a gasping breath, saliva thick in my mouth as tears slipped down my cheeks and slid down my neck once they reached the cut of my chin. "They tried to save you… but they couldn't… I'm so sorry… I love you… I – "

Crossing the room and closing the large divide between us, dragging his oddly twisted leg behind him all the while, Jeremy approached me… a mixed look about him.

"Kasey… why am I alone?" The thing that looked like but could not have been Jeremy echoed, his paled hand reaching out to touch me as I backed away just as quickly as he approached, fright gripping me and holding fast as I back pedaled into the metal tray with the instruments, knocking them to the floor with a cacophony of clatters.

Reaching out his cold hand gripped my arm tightly in a quick motion, digits digging into the flesh it found beneath them with an almost inhuman strength as I started at his touch.

"Jeremy…?" I could feel my lips floundering for a moment, my heart pounding erratically in my chest as I tried to shrink away from the clammy touch before the words formed and left my mouth. "You're hurting me… Let go, please!"

Eyes – lifeless and filmy – flashed up to hold mine and opening his mouth to speak with blue lips, a screeching sound echoed from inside of him.

I sat bolt upright in bed, my legs tangled in a mess of sheets and the clothes I had worn yesterday which I had decided to throw to the bottom of my single bed. Squinting against the light that leaked in through my bedroom window, it took me a moment to register my surroundings as the rain pitter-pattered a rhythmic tune against the window pane.

Chest rising and falling in rapid succession, my head pounded with each screech of my alarm clock, as an almost raw pain emanated from my chest, a rough ache that was not unfamiliar to me over the past few weeks. Glancing over at the small shaky bedside table, I threw a well aimed fist toward the alarm clock that rested there, dutifully reporting the time. I sat in the silence then, a blank looked fixed upon my outstretched arm for a moment before I actually saw them; four long bruises – left behind by finger tips my closest guess and an extension of digits – arched vertically up my left arm… the same arm that Jeremy had gripped in my all too real dream. Turning my arm over slowly, a fifth circular bruise impressed itself on my inner arm… five bruises, distinct and purple against my pallid skin stood out oddly.

A shiver ran the length of my spine as I turned my arm over and over again several times, stunned to silence at the strange discovery.

The sound of my name snapped me out of my silence.

"Kasey! I've got to get to the shop and if you're not ready in a half hour, I can't give you a ride!"

Pulling myself from bed, and the tangle of sheets I padded my way to the oak dresser across the room, pausing in my strides only when I passed the window. Furrowing my brow, I shivered slightly as a breeze – cool and damp – blew in through the opened window, tossing my blinds around and turning them into dancing, lively bits of material. Rolling my eyes slightly, I sighed. Luke. He had always had a nasty habit of opening windows in the middle of the night because he was too warm and he wanted to conserve energy by not turning on a fan or the A/C.

Hippie, I sighed mentally as I took a step toward the opened port, reaching up and closing the window with finality and locking it deftly. I groaned loudly as my feet touched a small rain puddle on the floor in front of the window that I noticed had already run toward my bed; Great.

***

"I will break into your thoughts
With what's written on my heart
I will break, break

I'm so sick,
Infected with where I live
Let me live without this
Empty bliss,
Selfishness
I'm so sick
I'm so sick…."

Luke leaned forward and clicked the car stereo system over to the radio with a flick of his wrist, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as a more familiar sound replaced the music we had been listening to – the sound of a weather man.. "What the hell are kids listening to these days?"

"It's Flyleaf…" I mulled almost thoughtlessly. My mind had been wandering since Luke had hustled me from my room, through breakfast and into the car. I'd absently grabbed an old CD that I had burned a couple years back in the process and at Luke's offer to listen to my music on the way to Scappoose, I'd popped the old disc into the car CD player. "And you've just aged yourself… just so you know."

Luke was silent for a moment, his hands gripping the steering wheel as if he was considering my words, weighing them seriously. In a moment, without sparing me a look, he switched from the radio back to the CD with another flick of his wrist.

"If you want more of this
We can push out, sell out, die out
So you'll shut up
And stay sleeping
With my screaming in your itching ears

I'm so sick…"

"I'm thirty four, just so you know…" Luke grumbled in reply, his fingers nimbly flicking on the windshield wipers as a light rain began peppering the car windows with water droplets which ran down the glass in streaking rivulets. I barely held back a grin.

There was a moment of silence between us, my eyes searching the streaking landscape past the blurred windows before I spoke once more. "Luke, did you open my window again last night? There was a puddle in my room this morning and -"

"It's been raining all week Kase…" Luke replied shortly as if the weather should explain everything without his having to answer directly. "You must have left it open last night before you went to sleep."

Nodding shortly, I diverted my eyes back out to look out through the window, ignoring the persistent, nagging voice that told me there was a void where there should have been a memory of opening a window. In all honesty, it wasn't difficult to forget opening a window though I supposed, with what had been going on lately. "Yeah… I guess."

***

I hadn't had a chance to dread the thought of Biology class that morning until I found myself splitting the crowds in the hall to reach the morning class. Clinging to the strap of the backpack that rested – suddenly heavier now than I had remembered it being this morning – on my shoulders, I took a deep breath, steadying myself; this was nothing to be afraid of, nothing to be cautious about it was school, biology class and Edward Cullen was a regular seventeen year old just like the other kids in my classes. Though he was decidedly strange with an unhidden amount of what I could only gauge as loathe toward me, I honestly couldn't have expected everyone to like me at the school, could I?

However, a nagging feeling persisted as I stood just outside the classroom, hidden behind a length of lockers so that whoever was already in the class could not see me. So why was it that I cared? I cared what Edward Cullen thought about me, cared about if people knew what had caused my move to Scappoose High so late in the year. If Edward knew, if anyone knew about what I had done to Jeremy, I -

I felt an arm snake around my waist and I was already twisting out of it before I heard the voice.
"Kase, whoa… relax. It's me."

Turning quickly to match a name with the voice, my eyes fell upon Cole, a smirk twisting his lips wryly. "You hiding out from someone?" Cole murmured, pocketing his hands, a satchel backpack slung across his shoulder as he nodded toward the door which we were both standing outside of.

"Uh-," I stalled for a moment, glancing at the classroom door thoughtfully. If Edward Cullen knew about Jeremy… what would happen to me? "No, no one." I shook my head once, a quick movement so that even I couldn't take it back once it had been done.

"Well, shall we then?" Cole made a sweeping motion toward the door.

Taking a step forward, I didn't bother to answer.

"Thus begins the descent into hell…" Cole sighed in attempts I was sure to be humorous as he stepped in behind me and entered the classroom.

Descent into hell was right, descent to the seventh circle of hell to be exact…

I could tell his strange eyes were upon me the moment I entered the crowded room and it took all I could muster to keep my eyes from seeking him out, from finding those golden eyes with my murky brown ones. There was something undeniably pulling about Edward I had learned yesterday, something that lured me to him like a planetary gravity, something strong and binding despite an inner voice that told me to avoid him, to stay away.

Averting my eyes to the front of the classroom as I passed Mr. Britt's unoccupied desk, I paused before the oak hardtop for a moment furrowing my brow slightly. Everything remained untouched on the desk and it appeared pristine. When Mr. Britt had been sitting there the other day, I had noted, everything seemed cluttered with personal belongings, now… it was suddenly different.

The reason came waddling through the door a moment later -- weaving through the students cluttered here and there around their friend's desks, chatting loudly – and approached the desk with a clearing of his throat.
"Take your seat young Ms." He commanded nasally. Redirecting my eyes upon him, I faltered for a second. The man was rather pudgy around the middle; a doughnut clutched between two fingers of one hand and a smart looking brown leather briefcase clutched in his other grubby hand; the crumbs of the doughnut he was holding sprinkled across his chest sporadically, which the man either didn't notice or didn't care about. It wasn't hard to tell what he was doing here, a substitute teacher.

Giving the man one last discerning look, I took a breath and turned away before he could ask me again, heading toward my assigned seat while my stomach bubbled with nerves on high alert. I kept my eyes glued to the cracked tile under foot as I walked.

Like the other day, I took my assigned seat and placed my knapsack on the floor beside the lab table carefully, straightening up as the substitute teacher corralled the last of the wandering students to their assigned seats.

"I'm Mr. Doyle. Mr. Britt is decidedly out of commission for today and has requested that you watch this film on Autotrophic plant life." Shuffling back to the desk where he had laid his leather briefcase, Mr. Doyle produced an old and battered VHS. There was a groan among the class, but Mr. Doyle ignored the sounds of protest.

Dragging the old television from the front corner of the room on its wheeling platform, Mr. Doyle placed it front and center and popped the video in, waving the student closest to the lights to flick them off.

It wasn't that I had forgotten Edward's presence in the seat beside mine, I don't think I could have even if my life depended on it, but the moment the classroom was plunged into the darkness – broken only by the dim light that crept into the room through the spaces where the blinds on the classroom windows failed to keep the light out – something changed. Instantly, the atmosphere – at least from what I could feel – turned electric, my muscles tensing as the beginnings of the film flickered across the screen at the front of the room and a monotonous voice started up.

I simply couldn't concentrate. I couldn't hear the voice emanating from the television; I couldn't see the images of growing plants flashing across the screen in a melding of frames… all I could concentrate on was the suddenly irregular breathing patterns that inflated and deflated my chest; the tense atmosphere that caused it… Edward Cullen's eyes burning holes into the side of my face. I didn't dare impart him a glance, or even a coveted look from the corner of my wide eyes. Slowly, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the surface of the desk as I knotted my fingers in my hair, pulling my long locks over as my fingers raked through the tangled mess unsteadily and created a curtain of brown between my desk partner and I. Was it fear that provoked such an action? A simple reaction to an undeniably tense situation; or maybe a strange response to feelings I couldn't remember feeling since… since… Jeremy.

The thought struck me oddly. At first, I masticated the idea with little trouble, little grief or guilt… the next moment, it felt as if I had been slapped in the face with an open palm. How could I think that? How could I let myself feel like that even if the possibility of my feelings were only driven by what seemed to be a common misunderstanding of the strange and unknown; in this case, Edward Cullen and his uncommon family. I didn't deserve to feel like this, to think of feeling like this… especially with someone who obviously detested my existence let alone my presence. Of course, if I had come to this conclusion aloud, someone would have protested my quick conclusion about my desk partner, my peer. But I was sure he hated me; there was no other explanation… even this early in my attendance at Scappoose.

My heart gave a sputtering lurch before struggling through the next few beats that followed, a pain rising in my chest. Through the curtain of hair draped over my left shoulder, I could see Edward's paled skin, his hand pulled into a tight fist; maybe I wasn't the only one who could feel the electricity in the air…

Daringly, I turned and rested my eyes upon his paled face fully, his eyes staring almost blankly ahead. I couldn't guess how long I had been staring at his perfect face, flawless and clear of any signs of teenage puberty, but I was sure he probably knew of my eyes upon him from the moment I turned with the intent to look at him. Turning toward me, he caught my eyes with his topaz ones, holding them for a long, almost endless moment in which I seriously considered turning away to hide behind my vale of brunette locks once more. Releasing me from his gaze, his eyes wandered down to the arm I had lain across the surface of desk top, his eyes narrowing minutely as if assessing something he saw there, his jaw tensed as if he was biting his tongue, holding back from saying something, doing something. Watching him, an eyebrow rose on my face in curiosity, I followed his gaze down to my left arm, and immediately, my eyes caught what he was seeing: the skin and the stark bruises inlaid on the pallid surface visible courtesy of my rolled up sweater sleeve. My stomach jumped slightly as I studied them once more; they had gotten significantly darker since I had found them a few hours ago… and they brought back the memory of the horrible nightmare with sharp succinct clarity, a reel playing out in my head as I recalled what had happened.

Pulling down my sleeve sharply over the bruises, I looked up and caught Edward's eyes once more… and though there was a hate about the way he stared at me, something else hid expertly behind the loathing… a look that made me feel almost as if he felt sorry for me.

Turning away sharply, a bout of anger rose from the depth of me; how dare he feel sorry for me? Hate me, yes. Shun me and never speak with me and acknowledge my presence only to impart me with hateful glances, why not… it was what I deserved in my opinion, but feel sorry for me? No.

Tightening my fist I fell behind my curtain of hair in retreat, the bruises aching slightly as the muscles flexed beneath my skin. Closing my eyes tightly, instead of darkness I was greeted by the haunting appearance of the Jeremy I had seen in my dream. The Jeremy that was not mine, his face rotting and lifeless… full of blame, and loneliness… a sickness stirred the bile in my stomach and pushed it up my throat.

Eyes flashing open, I pushed myself from the stool suddenly, making a bee-line straight for the classroom door and ignoring any possible motions Mr. Doyle would make to stop me.

Once I made it into the brightly lit hall, the electric atmosphere dissipated and I could feel hot prickles of angry tears burning the corners of my eyes as navigated the empty, quiet halls, heading to the closest women's washroom I could find.

I found one in less than three minutes. Stiff arming the door open I slipped into the bathroom quietly and took a breath before I started towards a stall.

Closing the stall door sharply once I had reached it – the last one in the long row of empty stalls - I took a steady breath before I leaned up, back pressed to the door and slid down slowly until I was crouched on the floor. Pulling my knees up close to my chest, I hugged them closely, burying my head in the comfort of my knees.

This wasn't the same; I was kidding myself to think I could fit in here… I was a monster and I couldn't escape that no matter how far or how fast I ran. I would always be the one who had killed Jeremy… I wasn't allowed to forgive myself for that.


A/N: Reviews would be awesome and epic. Please and thank you!