Why is it that every time I write about Constance, I wanna smoke? A lot. Damn that woman. Lol

Anyways, on we go...

"Silent Pulse"

I want to reach my hands right through him,

Into him,

Like a ghost's through a wall,

And I want to wrap my fingers around his heart,

To feel it beat,

But I will have to let go,

And rest my hands in my lap,

Because I can not have his heart,

Until he has realized,

That he has mine...

I sat in Constance's kitchen, holding my now cold cup of coffee, and stared at her across the table. She took a long drag from her cigarette, giving me a mischievous smile.

"I've seen the way you look at my son." She said finally, giving me a knowing smile as she tapped the ashes from her cigarette. "Like he hung the moon himself, just for you."

"Well, it's kinda hard not to, the way he saved me the other day." I didn't mean to, but my tone sounded dry and defensive. I tried to soften my expression to keep her from being insulted. Still, her expression darkened slightly. She frowned as she took another drag, propping her elbow on her crossed arm as she sat back and stared for a second.

When she finally spoke, she looked away and focused on her cigarette as she ashed it again. "Yes, well. Liam's more like his brother than he realizes. All of that high and mighty talk about hating murderers, when he can't even control his own anger. But that's a whole other story. I noticed you battin' your little eyelashes at Tate long before you knew who Liam even was. You've held this in for a long time."

I blushed, scratching the back of my head for an excuse to look away from her. I tried to avoid the topic."And here I could have died the day before my birthday too, that's hardly a good present." I forced a laugh.

"Well Happy Birthday, Cherie. I didn't even know, you don't tell us these kinds of things," She said,then gave a self-satisfied smirk. 'I knew it she liked him.' I'm sure that's what she was thinking. Her eyes wandered up to where Micheal's room was, checking to make sure that he wasn't sneaking downstairs while we talked. "Well, back to what I was sayin'. I told you before, you're like a mother to Micheal now, and God knows Vivian ain't gonna live a damn finger to help the poor boy, blood or not."

"Where are you going with this Constance?"

She took a deep breath, her eyes leveled with mine. "I want you to tell Tate how you feel about him. I'm almost positive he feels the same way, you just...need to reach out to him."

"What is it with everyone telling me that?" I asked, halfway to myself though I directed it to her. "He already knows for one. Everyone in the whole damn house knows apparently, why do you think Violet started avoiding me?"

"Tch, don't mention that selfish little whore to me, I could go on for days about what she did to my boy. And what do you mean he already knows? Does he not like you or something?" She scoffed in disbelief, rolling the remains of her cigarette between her fingers before taking a last hit and putting it out.

"According to Hayden he likes me, and the house too. He's been, well," I blushed even harder, remembering the look on his face from the house's memory, "He's been watching me sleep."

She repeated me slowly, confused."Watching you sleep?"

"Yeah. I, uhm..I talk in my sleep, and apparently, I've been..calling out to him, confessing to him every night over and over. I've already had Chad and Hayden wake me up. Hayden threatened to kill me if I didn't find a way to stop." I looked down at the coffee. It would be so tempting if I knew for sure that she hadn't spiked it, but her house had pretty much told me otherwise. I knew why she wanted me here, but I didn't want her to know how much I could read just in case she decided to go outside and do it at any point in time. The woman was tricky, sweet in her own way, but very tricky. "I guess he acted like he didn't know because he didn't realize that I already knew that he knew." I gave a quizzical look to my own wording, then shrugged it off.

Constance gave a soft laugh, either at my expression or what I'd said about him watching me, I wasn't sure. "He has always been a bit of a hopeless romantic. Maybe he wants you to have just the right moment."

"Or he's saving me from having to face a really awkward rejection and simply likes being praised by sleeping fan girls." I instantly doubted my own logic when I remembered the way he'd acted before, but I didn't voice it. Instead, I tried to hurry the conversation along. When I'd glanced at the clock I realized I only had about thirty minutes before Liam got home from his part-time job at L.A .Market. I wanted to be there before he got home. "Constance, why did you really want me here? You don't ask favors unless it benefits you, I know that. I'm just being honest, not rude. So how would me telling Tate how I feel benefit you at all?"

The look on her face went from polite cheerfulness to emotionless in less than a second. She ran her tongue over her teeth while she thought, and lit another cigarette. "You are very blunt, aren't you?" She remarked, then sucked in a short hiss of air through her teeth, "I was hoping that, if you and Tate did happen to fall for each other, and you one day...became a permanent residentof that household... Well, let's just say that I won't be in this world for long, and I want to know that when that time comes, he will still have family to rely on. Such as you, and Tate."

I just stared at her, then back to the clock. Twenty minutes. "Constance, as much as I would love to continue this conversation—," Not. "—I really have somewhere to be. I'll catch up with you later okay?"

"Silence Burning"

In a room full of whispers one never screams,

Because a broken silence follows,

And after that are cries of the damned reaching up,

Blacked-out memories,

Trying to resurrect themselves,

Yearning to be relived,

And the pain of death,

Becomes a blade,

To bring forth blood from one's eyes...

"Oh, Liam. Did you really think I would accept that kind of disrespect and not do anything horribly irrational?" I asked, mockingly sweet as I rubbed the side of his face with my gloved hands. He looked up at me helplessly, his eyes panicked as he craned his neck to watch what I might do. I sat in the floor with his head in my lap, his body sprawled out on the floor before me, bound tightly with the black cord I'd had in my bag. People really needed to stop underestimating me.

He whimpered through the layers of duct tape wrapped around his head and mouth and tested his restraints just barely. "I'm crazy, remember? I'm a freak. I'm so low, that I don't even make a dent in your morals. I should be killed as if I were a wounded animal, in misery."

I laughed, more to scare him than anything. He squeezed his eyes shut and looked away, but I wasn't about to let him block this out. I pulled out my knife, grazing the blade along his cheek.

"Don't look away now, I was just starting to enjoy those beautiful pink eyes you're so proud of." The knife slid down his neck to his chest.

"Oh no...I don't want to to be too quick. You see, if you threaten to kill me, in a way that I don't want to die, that I haven't chosen, that I clearly do not enjoy, you get fucked. And not in the nice way." I slid the knife down to his stomach.

"I wonder...if I stab you in the stomach, will it burn worse from the stomach acid?" I stared directly into his eyes while I twirled the blade on its tip thoughtfully, "Let's find out!"

The blade plunged down, hard. I had flashbacks to my failed attempt at killing Marie Waters and felt a kind of redemption. Damn, I really am fucked up. He let out a pained howl as I buried my knife in him, and when I pulled it out, I just stared at it. For once, I had actually gone through with my fantasies. My therapist would be so disappointed.

I sat there, waiting for almost an hour for him to bleed out. I wanted to watch the light die in his eyes. It got to the point I was so bored I was singing to myself, making up the words as I went along.

(* "There Is Never a Choice")

"There are no choices in these dark halls,

The lights have blown and gone.

.

"Adjust to the dark to see,

As you creep down these halls,

Try not to peek into the doors.

.

"But,

Oh you will,

As curiosity rises,

You'll peek in as you pass every one.

.

"Inside you'll see horrors,

You'll see death,

You'll see torment.

.

"You'll be led by a force you can't stand,

And there's no turning back,

No turning left or right.

.

"You'll be forced to see what you never wanted,

And into a frightful sleep you will fall.

.

"There is no escaping,

No choosing to run,

Because running leaves bruises

And escaping will just never happen.

.

"So keep walking,

Being dragged,

Resist how you please,

Its the only choice that you have.

.

"The end of this hall,

But there's always a turn,

You peek into the last of the doors,

But can't stand the sight...

.

"Turn the corner and see your remains."

I watched his eyes glaze over then, and smiled.

When I got back into the house I was beaming. My bag was dropped by the doorway, seeing as it was empty now anyways. I started to make my way down to my room.

"Happy Birthday," Tate said quietly, suddenly behind me...so close. "Where've you been all day, Birthday Girl?"

I let my mouth twist into a satisfied smile, "Out celebrating."

The air hitched in my throat as I felt his arms wrap around my waist. "You know," he whispered, his lips pressed to my ear as he spoke, "I've been saving a very important present for you, but I didn't know when to give it to you. You're lucky my mother told me about your birthday when she did, or I would have waited longer."

"And what's my present?" I was breathless. He'd never acted like this with me.

Then, all at once, Tate pulled away, as though he'd never even considered his previous actions. He grinned, jabbing his thumb toward the kitchen. "Moira baked you a cake."

I frowned, but followed him into the kitchen. "That's hardly what I expected."

If Moira didn't approve of Tate's being there, she at least didn't say anything. Though she did eye him warily when he came into the room. On the center island, was a small angel food cake with white icing, decorated with various cherries around the top and bottom. In the middle of the cake was a big beautiful, "Happy Birthday, Cherry" in bright red candied gel. I smiled at how they'd misspelled my name, and just at the cake in general.

"This is so sweet, you two..." I sighed, staring at the little cake. "I take it you don't plan on eating any?"

Moira chuckled, "Us dead people don't have much of a need for food anymore, really. I did try to get your father to join us, but he seemed to be a bit busier than usual."

"Thanks anyways, Moira. At least you tried." I couldn't look away form the cake, giving an almost excited squeal when she finally cut me a fourth slice and put it on a plate. They didn't know, but this was the first birthday cake I'd had since my mother died.

"I candied the cherries myself." Moira said proudly.

"Oh, and I do love cherries!" I plucked one out of the icing and went to eat it before Tate stopped me.

"Save those for last." If he'd keep smiling at me like that, I'd do anything he asked. I practically melted at the sultry grin spread on his face while he leaned in close to me. I returned the cherry to its place.

"Oh, we can't forget the candles!" Moira said suddenly, grabbing her matches and lighting the seventeen candles she'd placed around the rim. "Alright, now. Make a wish."

I couldn't help it. My eyes wandered over to Tate, his face still twisted in that humored yet handsome grin as he watched me. I looked back to the cake and closed my eyes, blowing as hard as I could.

Somehow I'd managed to eat every bit of the cake without eating the cherries. With a sad thought I noted that I might not be able to eat them, as full as I was. Moira had gone off to finish cleaning the study upstairs before my father got home from work, not before giving me the present that Constance had left for me. It was a red, winter dress fashionably styled. I didn't hesitate to try it on.

"It looks great," Tate smiled, picking up one of the cherries and popping it into his mouth when I got back.

"Oh, what the hell!" I shouted, "I can't eat them but you can? You don't even have to eat!"

"That doesn't mean I don't miss the taste of food. Don't be prejudiced." His eyes glittered as he chewed, holding back his laughter.

"That's it, I'm eating those." I reached for the cherries, but again he grabbed my hand.

"Seriously, though, before you eat those I want to tell you something." I stared at him, confused and pulled my hand back.

"That present, that I was waiting to give you, is in those cherries. I might have tampered with them a bit. But I want to make sure that you know what's going to happen if you eat those." He lifted a hand and pushed some of my hair behind my ear, tracing his finger along the side of my face for a oment before relaxing.

"So...what's going to happen?"

Something in his smile made me nervous. The good kind of nervous, like when you know you're about to have your first kiss. Was he about to say, what I thought he was?

So, not quite at the ending yet, and I've started to show some of Cherie's crazier side. Negative comments are most definitely welcomed, just don't get obscenely rude or anything, lol. But I do want to know if this was the direction you expected or not. It's not over yet though! I think we have about one or two more chapters left before it's all over and done with.

**As always, any and all poetry is from my MyDarlingsDear account at WritersCafe. I'll put a list of the songs and bands in the very last chapter.**

I do have this question: What do you think is in those cherries? OR is this even real? Dun dun duuuunnnn! :3

Thanks everyone! Please review!