Chapter Five

I did sleep that night. And I dreamed again. But it wasn't the same.

My dream was black. No imagery, nothing. Just the awareness of my body and the sound of my breath. I sat in the dark for a long time. And then music.

Usually I'm not one for popular music. Sometimes it disgusts me. All love songs, dedicated to a girl's hips. Heavy, repetitive beats and choruses. People living life high on drugs and meaningless sex. I can't decide if they're idiots or geniuses. I can never decide.

But, in my dream, a remotely popular song came on. 'If I Die Young.' It came on softly, gently, beautifully. And then it got louder. And louder. It got so loud, it was deafening. At one point I started screaming along, and I almost didn't realize it until I was out of breath, my diaphragm aching.

My voice got louder than the music, to the point where I couldn't hear it. I was feeling raw, tearing my vocal chords to shreds. And then, suddenly, the music stopped, but I kept going, not noticing, singing the chorus repeatedly.

Then my father's voice, stopping my words in their tracks instantly.

"Would you like to die young, Jade?"

I woke up immediately, eerily calm. That white alarm clock next to the bed, that song was playing. What type of hospital has preset alarm clocks?

I suppose it wasn't a pleasant dream, one I could make sense of. But it was progress from that other one. The forest. The time.

Cat came to visit. Took her long enough, really – she's my best friend. Only because I wish I was like her, though. Happy. But I don't really know her. Do you ever really know somebody? I know nobody knows me, who I am. Maybe everyone's like this.

But that's ridiculous – if everyone was like me, it wouldn't be so bad. Everyone would understand. Nobody would get offended by what I had to say. Sure, sometimes I wish I could be normal, but more often I wish everyone else wasn't.

Cat's so simpleminded it's horrifying. It's like nothing bad has ever happened to her, like she's never lost anything. She's a kid. But I always have to remind myself she's an amazing actress, too. For all I know she could be exactly like me, only with a different character.

First thing she did when she walked in was walk up to one of those IV drip machines and start fiddling with the cord. Don't know why it's in here. They probably expect me to boycott water sometime soon. Or they're just looking for an excuse to stab me.

"You shouldn't do that, Cat," I said gently. I was soft with Cat. Not because I like her anymore than anyone else, but because I know she's no threat. She wouldn't come in my fortress if I was holding the gate open for her.

She smiled in that carefree way of hers. Never changes; always the same smile. Doesn't matter whether she's meeting you at a carnival or saying a final goodbye at your funeral. This felt more like the latter.

She dropped the cord, making her way over to me, sitting on the bed. "How are you?" she asked, her eyes as bright as the sun. Blinding.

"Fine," I muttered, looking away. "What took so long?"

She shrugged, smiling wider. "I had to go to Colorado to bail my brother out of jail. My parents would have done it, but they were still angry from the last time."

She grabbed my arm suddenly, twisting it to see my wrist. "I love scars," she muttered, tracing the remnants of my supposed failed suicide with her fingertips. "They're beautiful. Just... real." I blinked at her, seeing her for the first time in my life.

Then she left.

Part of me was disappointed. I was hoping that some people could be that simple, that easy. Remain a child. The fact that it was all a lie, a mask – it almost felt like she had died. Like I'd lost my best friend, now that I knew more about her. Sometimes it's better to remain in the dark.

Then I had a sudden burst of self-loathing – it's pathetic, really. I'm such a hypocrite. The thing I was terrified of happening, I brought upon her. I think of her differently – she's not the same Cat. She gave me a glance of her fortress. Sure, she didn't give me a tour of the inside, but she took a picture and sent a postcard.

And then I judged every stone's placement, every little crevice, every air vent. No mercy. Like a real estate agent, scouting for the maximum amount of cash I could sell for.

Well, no one's buying.

A/N - Ahem. God knows where that came from.