Looking Through Chapter 5: Before the Fall, a signs fanfic

So. Here's Chapter Five. And this is where things start to get out of control. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far, and please leave me a review because they make me write faster, hint, hint.

I realised I've managed to leave out the soundtracks for the last three chapters so I've included the one for Chapter 3 here at the end. I'll include the ones for Chapters 4 and 5 in Chapter 6 when I next update.

Hope you enjoy it.

"No, Izzy, I don't know where it is." Merrill shoved a drawer closed with more force than strictly necessary as I closed my eyes, and counted to ten, wondering if it was possible to love someone and want to murder them at the same time.

"No, Izzy, I did not move your essay. Why would I move your essay?"

"I didn't say you'd moved it." I was speaking through gritted teeth. "I asked if you'd seen it."

"Well-" Merrill grabbed his keys, already heading for the door. "I haven't."

I stared after him, before turning back to the bedroom and yanking at the covers. "Maybe it's under here-"

"Where do you think it's going to be, under our mattress?"

I bit my lip and resisted the urge to suggest Merrill keep his mouth shut if he found the search so boring. So much for making it up with him the other night.

After a few more minutes of frenetic searching, I finally located the essay-tucked in my wardrobe. I squinted at it, wondering how in God's name it had ended up in there, before turning to the door, where Merrill was lounging against the door frame, looking rather bored with the whole debacle.

"Got it." He raised an eyebrow. "Where was it?"

"In the wardrobe." Merrill blinked, and I shook my head. "I don't know, either."

Merrill rolled his eyes, turning towards the door and I resisted the urge to hit him over the head with my essay. But I had more than an inkling that that would make the situation worse, and the last thing I needed was Merrill and I having another row at the moment.

There had been no more dead birds cropping up in the last three days, and Bo seemed to have retreated into an eerie silence-indeed, she appeared to be spending more time than ever with her felt tips. But I couldn't get rid of the sensation that there was something brewing beneath the surface, some growing tension that would at some point burst into the open.

Meanwhile, with Merrill, things were-different. We weren't arguing or addressing each other with exaggerated politeness as we usually did following any heated exchange. There just seemed to be a constant feeling of irritation between us, and it often resulted in small exchanges like that one, with a strange sensation of pettiness between us.

The only time it was different was at night. I felt my cheeks flush even thinking about it but there was something almost bizarre about what was going on between us at night now. Any irritation during the day, any argument we'd had, would be forgotten in fierce, desperate kisses, his arms holding me to him so tightly it almost hurt. And yet, there was something strange in it, in a longing that sometimes seemed less about wanting each other, and almost about wanting to devour each other, something that I sometimes thought would kill us both.

And always afterwards, that weird exhaustion would seep into us both. Not the usual type of sweet drowsiness, that we usually experienced, when we'd lie still in each other's arms, murmuring things to each other that we may never have said otherwise. This was a weird, heavy kind of exhaustion, that left me feeling numb and cold inside, almost as though every ounce of energy had been drained out of me. I'd wake up feeling less refreshed than usual, as if I hadn't slept much, and judging by his constant irritation and the shadows under his eyes, Merrill was feeling the same thing. The only thing I could think to compare it to was the months after Colleen had first died, when I'd constantly woken up cold, feeling as though every emotion had been drained out of me, and replaced with a dull, aching emptiness, that seemed to hurt more than tears.

And yet, that problem was coming way down the list compared to every other issue we were facing.

"Bo's first therapy session tonight" I reminded Merrill, as the car screeched to a halt outside the graduate school gates. "Graham wants us to be there."

I could have sworn Merrill rolled his eyes at that, but I slid out of the car, anyway, ignoring him. I turned back to see him watching me, looking slightly ashamed.

"Bye." My voice was softer than usual, and I leaned in to kiss him rather more hesitantly.

But to my surprise, his hand slid under my chin and he tilted my mouth to his, pulling me to him in a fierce kiss that made me briefly forget where we were. My hands slid into his hair, and I kissed him back the same way-missing this closeness, this level of comfort.

"I love you." Merrill's voice was low and I closed my eyes, as I returned his words. "I love you, too."

One more brief kiss and then I slid out of the car. "I've got to go-"

Merrill nodded, but didn't drive off. I kissed his cheek once more, before turning towards the school, Merrill watching the entire time. I touched my hand to my lips, more bemused than ever.

"TGI Friday" Hannah muttered, as she glanced at me. "Doesn't look like it for you."

I stared at her. "It's just-Merrill-"

Hannah held up her hands. "Men are the scum of the earth. It is my duty as a best friend to tell you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Including yours'?"

Hannah nodded. "Touche. What's the problem with Merrill?"

I swallowed. "God, at the minute-" I sighed and began to spill out everything that had been going on over the past few days to Hannah. To give my best friend credit, she remained silent, simply allowing me time to ramble on about the various problems both my family and my boyfriend now appeared to be facing with me.

Hannah shook her head slowly. "Jesus. The birds and stuff, they were creepy enough but this-" She stared at me. "It's not your fault, you know, Izzy."

I stared at her. "What isn't?"

She shrugged. "Merrill being a pillock. He'll come through it. They always do. And you've got nothing to worry about. He's crazy about you."

I snorted. "Yeah, well, doesn't seem like it. Except when we're-" My voice trailed off, and Hannah smirked. "Yeah, you mentioned."

I closed my eyes. "Jesus. Why's everything confusing? We were fine for ages. And now-" I opened my eyes. "I love him and I'm worried about him and yet, I can't stop feeling irritated. All the time." I tugged at a loose nail. "What's wrong with me, Hannah?"

Hannah shrugged. "Izzy, it's not your fault." She pushed a half-empty packet of cookies towards me and I accepted them gratefully, taking a bite out of one. "It's going to be fine."

I shrugged. "I hope so. We've all got to go to Bo's therapy appointment tonight, so that should go well."

Hannah rolled her eyes. "Sounds like a fun family outing."

"Yeah, all we need is a diner in the psychiatrist's office." Hannah was the only person I could joke about this with at the moment. Usually, Merrill would have lightened the mood of the whole visit but given how he was behaving at the moment, I didn't think he'd be feeling up to joking.

Hannah sighed. "She's seeing your old therapist?"

I shook my head. "No. Someone else. Mine retired ages ago. And I haven't been to a shrink in months. Same place mine used to be, though."

Hannah watched me, eyes narrowed shrewdly. "And you're OK with that?"

I nodded. "Not got much choice, have I?"

Hannah reached out to touch my shoulder, as I bit into the cookie moodily. "It'll work out, Izzy."

I sighed. "Hope so." I wanted to say more, but the words wouldn't come. So instead, I chewed my cookie and shut up.

Sitting in a psychologist's waiting room is not fun, and the excess of old magazines is only partly to blame. That afternoon, as I sat there with Merrill, Graham, Morgan and Bo, it was as quiet as the grave-a simile which did not do much to raise my spirits.

Merrill slid back against the seat, sighing. He seemed to be in a slightly better mood since that morning, which was the only bright side to the whole thing. "Maybe he's taking a long time, tying the previous patient to the bed."

Bo stared at her uncle, wide-eyed and I kicked him. Graham was glaring at his younger brother. If looks could kill, we'd all have been attending a funeral.

"He's joking" I said to Bo, shooting daggers at Merrill. "I went to places like this as a kid and nothing like that happens."

Bo shrugged, She crawled onto my lap, and I wrapped my arms around her, while still keeping a hold on the magazine. "Does anyone actually look at these knitting patterns in here, or are they just there to remind you that one day you might be old and lonely?" I asked, holding up the magazine for inspection. When no-one answered, I chucked it onto the table. "Happy waiting time."

The receptionist at the desk looked up, rather sympathetically. "Is there anything I can get you while you wait?"

Merrill rolled his eyes. "A side order of further boredom would be nice."

The receptionist raised an eyebrow, and returned to her magazine. I had a feeling she wouldn't be offering us anything again.

I elbowed him. "Merrill."

"What?" A wide-eyed look of pretend innocence, and I rolled my eyes. Still, this was better than silence.

Morgan shifted in his seat. "Dad, can I have a cell phone?"

Graham stared at his son. "What?"

Morgan stared at him. "For Christmas. Can I have a cell phone?"

Graham stared at him. "We're discussing this now?"

Morgan shrugged. "Just thought of it."

Graham sighed, pushing his hands through his hair. "I'll think about it. But I don't know who you can't just call on the regular phone."

Morgan shrugged, but watching him, I noticed he was blushing. I frowned.

"I wonder if I'll have grown a beard by the time we get in there." Merrill was now checking an imaginary watch, pretending to yawn, his head flopping onto my shoulder.

I opened my mouth, but then realised Bo was smirking. A high-pitched giggle broke from her throat. It was the first time I'd seen her laugh in days.

Merrill was now pretending to sleep on my shoulder. "Is it time to go home yet?"

Morgan and Bo were now both sniggering and even Graham was fighting back a smile. I rolled my eyes, pressing a kiss to Merrill's forehead.

It was at this moment that the nurse walked into the room. "Bo Hess?"

She stopped at the sight of the five of us-Merrill leaning on my shoulder, Morgan and Bo collapsed in laughter. I glanced at Graham, and wondered just what a psychologist might deduce from this.

"How old are you, Bo?" Bo was sitting in a beanbag chair, fidgeting with a doll that she'd picked up from the assortment of toys scattered about the room. Merrill, Graham, Morgan and I were seated in a circle of chairs, but Bo, upon entering the room, had glanced around and then chosen to settle in the beanbag, against the opposite wall. Graham had held out his hand, but Dr. Matthews had quelled him with a look-it was important, she explained in a whisper, that Bo sit where she felt comfortable and come closer of her own accord.

Bo did not look at the doctor, but kept her eyes on the doll, instead. "Six" she answered, in a dull undertone.

Dr. Matthews didn't blink, as she wrote down the age. "And why do you think your daddy's brought you to see me today?"

A quiet shrug, and Bo looked back at the doll.

"You're not sure?" Another shrug, and I saw Morgan raise an eyebrow. Maybe therapy wasn't a good idea for a kid who barely spoke, anyway.

"I think Daddy might have brought you in because he was worried about you. Do you think that?"

Another small shrug, but this time, a sound. "Maybe." Bo's voice was almost a whisper.

Merrill chewed his lip, glancing at me. Dr. Matthews turned to Graham. "Now, I've got some basic details about Bo's birth, but can you tell me a little more about her health before this began?"

Graham launched into a short explanation of Bo's various childhood maladies, of which there weren't many, and I glanced at Merrill, who was watching Bo with an expression of frank bemusement. I followed his gaze, to see Bo clutching the doll, twisting its' arm behind its' back, into what would have been a very painful position for a human.

"And how long ago was it that Morgan and Bo's mother passed away?" Dr. Matthews cast a sharp look at Morgan as she asked. Morgan flinched slightly, but otherwise did not respond.

Graham swallowed. "Nearly two years. Twenty months."

Dr. Matthews nodded. "And did Bo display any unusual behaviour-anything that gave you cause for concern-before the death of her mother?"

Graham and Morgan glanced at each other. "Well-" Graham began hesitantly. "She never finished a glass of water. She always said-"

"It tasted funny" Morgan finished. "Or that it didn't feel right."

"And then of course, that came in handy when-" Graham gestured. "A year ago."

"Ah. In the invasion-" That was what the events of a year ago had been dubbed by everyone-the invasion. As if that could sum it up in one simple little phrase.

"Yeah. There were glasses of water everywhere when one got into the house, and so-"

Dr. Matthews nodded. "And this behaviour began after the invasion, correct?"

Graham opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Well" he said. "Not precisely. She had nightmares for weeks afterwards, and she was quieter for a while-but then she seemed to perk up for a bit. Until-" He swallowed. "Well, I'd say this September, she was behaving like her old self again."

"Did she still exhibit the problem with water?"

Graham swallowed again. "Yes."

Dr. Matthews nodded. "And has your other child had any problems?"

"Morgan-" Graham glanced at his son, who looked slightly startled at the inclusion.

"No" he said, shaking his head as he glanced between his father and the doctor. "I mean-no-I had nightmares for a bit, but-"

"You didn't tell me that, Morgan" Graham said, still with a slight edge to his voice.

Morgan shrugged. "Didn't seem important. But I'm fine, really, not like-"

Dr. Matthews glanced at Graham. "And Morgan was-"

"In danger, yes." Briefly, Graham explained the full events of fifteen months ago, while Morgan sighed and leaned back in his chair, and Merrill and I exchanged glances.

Dr. Matthews nodded. "I see. And Isabelle-" I jumped at my name. "You saw a therapist as a child, correct?"

I wondered if she had what we'd eaten for breakfast written down there, too. "Yeah, I-" I sighed and launched into an explanation of my own problems as a child, wondering if we'd ever get to the problems that were plaguing Bo now. I was half-expecting her to ask for a family tree.

Dr. Matthews nodded again when I finished. I began to wonder if she had any other gesture. "And how was Bo's mother's health?"

"Colleen was-" I glanced at Graham. "Colleen was fine. I mean-"

"Mom never had any problems" Morgan cut in. "She wasn't like this-"

Bo, behind us, was silent. Her eyes met mine and her lips twitched slightly.

Dr. Matthews glanced at Merrill, who held up his hands. "Don't look at me. I'm completely normal." He glanced to his right. "Have you met Harvey, my invisible-"

"Merrill!" Graham glared at him, as Morgan once again broke into laughter. Dr. Matthews shook her head, though a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"We can all do with a little laughter sometimes. Now-" Her fingers interlocked and she inspected us over the top of them. "What problems have occurred recently with Bo?"

Graham, Merrill and I exchanged glances. Graham sighed and began the list.

It took a while to recount everything that had happened in the last few weeks. Dr. Matthews, for the most part, listened without interruption, occasionally asking Graham to clarify something, and at one point asking Morgan to tell his account of the night he had discovered Bo outside-the encounter of which she had no memory.

Dr. Matthews nodded thoughtfully as he finished, before turning to Graham. "And what's happened since then?"

Graham sighed. "There were some dead birds" he said, with a rueful glance at his daughter. "We think it was a prank, but-" He embarked on a description of the birds, before explaining the events of the last couple of weeks, culminating in his explanation of Bo's meltdown on Sunday night.

Dr. Matthews nodded as he finished, and I noticed her pen wavering in her hand. She'd been taking notes the entire time. "The first thing I'm going to do-" she said, pulling her notes towards her. "Is recommend some physical tests."

Graham frowned. "Physical-"

"Tests to see if there is a physical cause for this behaviour. Such as an injury, an illness. They'll be at the children's hospital. But if they find nothing-and I suspect they will-then, I would like to see Bo again."

"Do you know-" I swallowed. "Do you have any idea what this could be?"

Dr. Matthews looked at me gravely. "If the tests don't indicate any signs of seizures or anything affecting her brain-" Graham gripped the table hard. "Any sign of epilepsy or anything it could be, then I would guess at some sort of post-traumatic stress disorder." Dr. Matthews shrugged. "After what she's been through, it's understandable."

"From her mother's death?" asked Graham. "Or from what happened last year?"

Dr. Matthews shrugged. "Perhaps both. But that would be a likely cause to me. The physical tests are really just a precaution. But to me, this is likely to be something trauma-related."

Graham exhaled, and I wondered how weird the situation was-that we could actually be relieved that Bo may have some trauma-related illness. "Is there any other possibility?" I asked, more out of courtesy than anything else.

Dr. Matthews hesitated. "There is" she said slowly, with a glance at Graham. "But I don't want you to worry yourselves too much over it."

"Just tell us." Merrill's voice was more abrupt than necessary and I noticed a muscle twitching in his jaw.

Dr. Matthews hesitated again, then sighed. "There is a possibility this may be some kind of childhood schizophrenia."

My heart twisted in my chest. Graham's eyes widened. Dr Matthews hastened to reassure us. "But that is very unlikely. Another possibility is a childhood form of psychosis. But again, unlikely." She leaned back in her chair. "First, let's get the results of the physical tests. If they show nothing, then I will begin to see Bo-with your consent, of course-in regular, one-on-one sessions. Sometimes, I will require one or more of you to be present, sometimes it will be just Bo and I." She looked around at us all slowly. "I may, at times, require to speak to just one of you on your own. It helps me find out more about her background, and anything else that may help me discover the cause of the abnormal behaviours."

Morgan swallowed. I saw his fingers close around his inhaler.

"After a few sessions with Bo, I will be able to have a better grasp of the causes behind the illness. If I do suspect childhood schizophrenia or psychosis-" She sighed. "We will proceed from there."

"With what?" Merrill asked, his jaw tight. "Drugs, therapy-"

"I do have to stress that that is extremely unlikely. Those conditions would be rare in a child and it won't help to worry unduly-"

"I know that" Merrill interrupted. "I just want to know."

Graham raised an eyebrow but apparently didn't think it worth interrupting.

Dr. Matthews sighed. "I would try her on a course of antipsychotic drugs, to see if they dispensed with the behaviour. If they did not work-" She bit her lip. "I would recommend hospitalization."

There was a short silence in the room. I stared at Bo over my shoulder. She looked so small. How had I never noticed she looked so small?

Dr. Matthews' voice broke the silence. "But I must stress again that that is very unlikely."

She switched her gaze to Bo this time. "Bo, can you hear me?"

As one, we all turned to look at my niece. She kept her gaze on the floor, but managed a small nod.

"Do you want to see me again?"

A moment of silence. Then, a small nod.

"Do you understand I don't have to tell your daddy anything you say? Unless it may put you or somebody else in danger if I don't?"

Another nod.

"And you still want to talk to me?"

Another moment. Then, Bo nodded for the third time

Dr. Matthews' face relaxed into a smile. "Good."

She stood up, and Merrill, Graham and I followed suit, Morgan slouching out of his chair. Graham walked to the beanbags, scooping up his daughter, who wrapped her arms around his neck, burrowing into his shoulder.

Dr. Matthews stood at the door, smiling at each of us as we walked out. "And, by the way, Bo" she said, giving her a grin. "You don't have to call me Dr. Matthews."

Bo's eyes widened but it was Morgan who spoke. "What should we call you, then?"

Dr. Matthews' smile grew brighter. "Call me Elizabeth" she said, her eyes on my nephew. "Everyone does."

"That seemed to go well." I glanced at Merrill as he drove, thinking worriedly of Bo's face as I'd kissed her goodbye. She hadn't seemed unhappy about Elizabeth, but then she hadn't seemed particularly happy either. She hadn't seemed much of anything and it was only now that it occurred to me that Bo hadn't spoken at all.

Merrill shrugged. "It's still weird, though."

I frowned. "What's weird?"

Merrill shrugged again. "All that stuff they were going on about-psychosis or whatever."

I nodded. "Well, she had a point. But she's probably just ruling it out."

Merrill nodded. "Still weird to think of her having something like that, though."

My hand brushed his, and after a moment, he slid one hand from the wheel, his fingers interlocking with mine. "I know it's freaky to think about" I said, after a moment of silence. "But I just-thanks for making her laugh in there. She needed it."

Merrill pressed his lips to my cheek but kept his eyes on the road as he asked "How was it for you? Being back in there, I mean?"

I looked straight ahead as I thought back on years spent in there, with Colleen, with my parents. Years, of trying to fight something you couldn't see, battle something you could only feel. Years, of being up against an invisible monster.

"It was fine" I answered.

"Is there a reason they're at ours'?" Merrill muttered to me, several days later. Morgan and Bo were slumped in the living room of our apartment, staring at the TV screen. I cast an extra glance at Bo, but she seemed calm enough, leaning against her brother, the way she used to.

"Graham's visiting Ray Reddy." I glanced at him-I'd been the one to bring Bo home, having a free afternoon from graduate school. Morgan had made his way to ours', via a differing school bus route, and Merrill had come home to find them both in the living room, staring at the screen.

Merrill ran his hands through his hair. "Great" he muttered. He leaned against the wall. "I wish Ray Reddy would-"

He tailed off abruptly, as I stared at him. "I really, really hope you weren't about to say "I wish Ray Reddy would hurry up and die"" I said.

Merrill blinked. "What-No!" He stared at me. "Jesus, Izzy-"

I shook my head. "I'm sorry. I'm a bit-" I pushed my hands through my hair. "Frazzled."

Merrill's eyes softened. His hands touched my shoulders, playing with my hair. "Schoolwork?" I was standing close enough to him to feel the heat from him-he hadn't got changed yet, and I could see a streak of oil on the top of his arm, the wrapper from a fruit Mentos packet sticking out of his pocket. It was like being able to read his day, get a glimpse of what he'd been thinking about since I last saw him that morning.

I shook my head. "Just-" I shrugged. "Worried about Bo, I guess." I stepped closer to him. "And maybe the whole thing in the psychologist's office bothered me, more than I thought."

Merrill's arms were warm, as he pulled me into his shirt. I closed my eyes, letting my head nestle beneath his chin. His lips murmured into my hair. "Don't worry, Izzy."

I knew he couldn't come up with anything better right at that second and for some reason, I felt mildly annoyed. But it wasn't enough to make me pull away from him. Idly, my fingers stroked the top of his arm, rubbing at the black mark.

"You've got something-"

Merrill's lips brushed my neck, nibbling under my ear, as my fingers stroked across his skin. "They're in the next room" I whispered, before Merrill placed his finger to my lips, his smile making me shiver.

"They're watching TV." His head tilted to the side and his mouth brushed across mine slowly, making me pull him closer. I whispered his name against his skin as his mouth returned to my neck. "Merrill-"

He kept kissing me, his hands brushing my shirt now. His name hovered on my lips, but I couldn't catch enough breath to say it. My head tilted back, letting his lips wander down to my collarbone.

"Isabelle?" Morgan's voice echoed through the hallway, and Merrill and I drew apart as if we'd both been shocked by electricity.

Merrill swallowed, and I reached up, sliding my arms around his neck. "Yes, Morgan?" I planted a kiss on Merrill's cheek.

"Can I use the phone?" We pulled apart as I heard Morgan's footsteps in the hallway. He appeared in the doorway a second later. "I just want to call someone."

I frowned. "Yeah, of course. It's on the table. Who're you calling?"

Morgan ducked his head. "Just need to ask someone about homework."

Merrill and I exchanged glances. "OK."

Morgan's face disappeared, as I turned back to Merrill. "Who do you think he's really calling?"

Merrill shrugged. "Let's just hope it's not Australia." He headed into the living room, passing Morgan, who was carrying the cordless phone into the kitchen for privacy. "Hey, Bo."

She sat in silence for a moment before turning to face her uncle. "Hey." Her voice was low, but at least there was a voice.

"How was school today?"

"She didn't go" I chipped in, before Bo could reply. "She had a day off, didn't you?"

"I've had days off ever since last week" said Bo quietly, her eyes never moving from the television screen.

"Graham wants to try sending her back in on Friday" I told Merrill.

Merrill sighed. "Is that going to be long enough?" he asked me. "I mean-" He indicated his niece with a sharp jerk of the head.

I shrugged. "Elizabeth thinks it's a good idea" I responded. "Graham spoke to her on the phone."

"When's your next session with Elizabeth?" Merrill asked Bo, who was now sitting with her back to us, apparently entirely focused on the television screen.

"Thursday." The one-word answer was followed by a folding of the arms around the knees, and a slight curling up.

Merrill's eyes met mine and I shrugged-I had nothing to explain her behaviour. I supposed that only a therapist could do that-and I hoped that Elizabeth would. It seemed to me that the little girl was retreating more and more into her silence, and I could only guess that nothing good could come of this coping mechanism, one that had once seemed so harmless, but now, only made it harder for anyone to reach her.

I could hear Morgan's voice in the kitchen as I approached the door, glancing over my shoulder at Merrill, who was now slumped on the couch, his eyes gazing disinterestedly at the cartoon playing across the screen.

I pushed open the kitchen door in time to see Morgan curled over the phone, talking in a low voice. Every now and then, he sniggered-clearly, it was an amusing homework conversation.

I yanked the fridge door open, and he almost fell off his seat. "Hold on." He put his hand over the phone. "Jesus, Isabelle!"

"What?" I poured out a glass of orange juice, choosing not to remark on his choice of words. "And who are you calling, anyway?"

Morgan's eyes darted briefly from the phone to me and back again. "Just a friend. You guys don't know him."

"Does the friend have a name?"

Morgan rolled his eyes. "It's private."

"That's an unusual name."

This was followed by another eye-roll-I could see Morgan would be gifted at assuming the role of cynical teenager. I wished Graham joy of it in the next few years.

"Do you have homework to do?" I asked. Graham had informed me that Morgan had to get at least one piece of homework done, before he was collected that night.

"I'll get it done in a minute." Morgan was already raising the phone back to his ear, his eyes already glazing over with boredom at this conversation.

"Just be sure you do."

"Fine." With an air of exasperation, he turned back to the phone, as if he'd been interrupted rescuing the Holy Grail.

Walking back into the living room, I slumped down next to Merrill. "Well, Morgan's being Mr. Mysterious, and we're all in here. Seems to be a very exciting homework call."

Merrill turned to me. "You think it's not a homework call?"

I shrugged. "Don't see the harm if it isn't. Probably just a friend."

"Or a girlfriend." Merrill's eyes glinted and I raised an eyebrow. "He's twelve."

"I was twelve."

"Yeah, well, Morgan's-you were twelve?" I stared at him. "Seriously?"

Merrill avoided my eyes. "Well-not properly. Just twelve when that girl, Ashley-"

"Yeah, you've told me the whole first kiss in a gym story." I turned to Bo-usually, she would have been watching with a grin, breaking into giggles when I rolled my eyes at her, letting her in on the grown-up world for a while. But she hadn't turned away from the television screen and the sight of her so remote was a pang in the chest. I longed to reach out and hug her, but hesitated to do so-I caught myself wondering if she might break.

Merrill sighed. "It's better than your first kiss story."

"How is a first kiss outside the cinema worse than being kissed in a gym?"

"When you drop the popcorn right afterwards, I'd say it's worse."

"All right, Merrill."

"And when you get the wrong tickets and get yourselves into a Disney movie rather than the horror film."

"All right, Merrill!"

"And when his mother drives you there and-"

"All right, Merrill!" I reached over and kissed his cheek, my eyes meeting his. He smirked. "I'm just telling the story."

"In a minute, you'll be telling a completely different story." I kissed him quickly on the mouth, which may have undermined my words a little.

"My gym experience was still better."

"OK, Lothario, let's move past the three-second kiss you had at age twelve, on what turned out to be a dare from her best friend."

Merrill's eyes widened. "I'm heartbroken."

I snorted. "Get someone to put it back together then."

Merrill rolled his eyes. "See how she speaks to me?" he appealed to Bo, while pressing a quick kiss to my hair. "And after-"

His voice trailed off. Bo hadn't looked away from the screen and in fact was paying about as much attention to us as she was to the wallpaper.

"Bo?" My voice was small, but she still didn't look up.

Merrill shook his head. "Just leave her" he mouthed, though he too, cast worried glances in the direction of his niece.

The door opened and Morgan came in, placing the phone back on the table, before heading for his bag, extracting an exercise book. "There, you happy?"

"We were just talking" Merrill announced, twisting round in his seat to face his nephew. I rolled my eyes. "About your friend on the phone."

Morgan froze, his eyes widening. "What do you mean?"

"Merrill-" I glared at him, but Merrill was grinning, his eyes on Morgan's face, which was growing redder by the second.

"Who's your girlfriend?"

Morgan's jaw dropped. "What?"

"Morgan's got a girlfriend?" Bo turned round from the TV and I couldn't hide the grin that tugged at my lips. Finally, something had got through to her.

"What, I-no-I do not have a girlfriend!" Morgan was staring at his uncle as though he'd just been asked whether or not carrots can fly.

Merrill nodded. "Of course you don't." He turned back to the screen , chanting softly under his breath. "Morgan and-" He turned to his nephew. "What's her name?"

"There isn't a name!"

"Morgan and no-name, sitting in a tree-"

"Merrill!" I elbowed him. "You're meant to be the adult-"

"Is Morgan going to marry a girl?"

"No!" Morgan glared at his sister, who was watching him with a grin, her eyes bright. "I don't have a girlfriend! I was on the phone with a boy!"

Merrill's eyes widened."What?"

Morgan seemed to realise almost immediately how this could be taken. "Not like that, for Christ's sake-just a friend, a friend who's a boy-"

"A boyfriend?"

Merrill dissolved into laughter at this from Bo, who stared at her brother in innocent consternation. "Is it a boyfriend, Morgan?"

Merrill seemed torn between staring at his nephew and breaking into hysterical laughter every five seconds. I tried to wipe the grin from my own face. "You can tell us, you know, Morgan" I said, failing at hiding my grin. "We'll love you, no matter what."

Morgan snorted. "Oh, grow up" he muttered as I abandoned any pretence at being serious and fell against Merrill, both of us half-howling with laughter.

Merrill sighed. "It's your choice, Morgan."

"So long as you're happy." I dissolved into laughter again, and Morgan rolled his eyes as he slid onto the couch with a maths book.

"You guys have nothing better to do with your time?"

Merrill glanced around rather ostentatiously. "No."

Morgan raised an eyebrow and flipped his maths book open.

Bo was still staring at her brother. "So you have got a boyfriend?"

"No." Merrill had dissolved into laughter again, and I rolled my eyes, nudging him-Morgan was looking more annoyed by the second.

Bo frowned. "Then, you've got a girlfriend."

"No, Bo, I haven't got a girlfriend." Morgan was gritting his teeth and I leaned forward. "Leave it now, Bo-"

She was frowning. "So you haven't got a boyfriend or a girlfriend?"

"No." Morgan was glowering at the notebook as if it had tried to bite him.

"Weird." Bo had turned back to the television screen, with her little summary of the situation.

"Yeah, well, I'm not the one in therapy."

If Morgan hadn't already been worked up, I don't think he would have said it. As it was, there was an immediate dead silence.

Bo curled up into a ball. She ducked her head forward.

"Morgan!" I rounded on my nephew, who was pale, and staring at the back of his sister's head.

Merrill was sliding off the couch, his hand on Bo's shoulder. "You OK?"

Bo shrugged him off, and he turned to me. "Izzy-"

I slid to the floor, my arm sliding around Bo's shoulders. It took a moment but she curled into me. "He didn't mean it, sweetie-"

Merrill was glaring at Morgan. "Apologize to her."

Morgan looked a little shell-shocked, as if he himself couldn't believe what he'd said. He stared at Bo as if he failed to recognize her, or perhaps as if he did not recognize himself.

"Morgan-" Merrill's voice held a note of warning now, and I saw him dart an anxious glance at Bo, who was curled against me.

Morgan glanced between Merrill and his sister. Perhaps it was the direct order that rendered his apology somewhat less genuine that it might have been.

"Sorry." It was a word, but it sounded less than sincere and I winced, keeping Bo's face pressed against my shoulder.

Merrill raised an eyebrow and Morgan shrugged. "What?"

Merrill's mouth opened, but I spoke. "Leave it, Merrill."

Merrill stared at me, but I had an idea that forcing Morgan to apologize might be more uncomfortable for both him and Bo. I pulled her further into my shoulder, patting her head with one hand."It's all right, sweetheart-"

Morgan was sliding off the couch now, heading for the door. "Morgan-" My voice was cut off by the door slamming shut behind him.

"Brilliant." Merrill slumped back down on the couch, and Bo curled further into me. She had her arms fastened around my shoulders, her head buried in my neck.

"Let him cool off." I pushed my hands through my hair. So much for today being better.

Merrill rolled his eyes. "Graham'll be thrilled."

Bo huddled into my neck, her eyes fixed on the screen. I looked at her. "You OK, sweetie?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes looking rather glassy. She kept staring at the screen, as though it would start speaking to her.

Merrill reached for the remote control, and I shook my head. Somehow, I didn't think Bo would take kindly to having her cartoon changed.

Merrill stared at me. "What?" he mouthed over Bo's head.

I shifted backwards, pulling Bo onto the couch with me. "Just let her watch her show."

Merrill rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ." His voice was low enough so that Bo wouldn't hear, but I glared at him.

So much for things being better since that first therapy session.

It took Graham approximately five seconds to deduce the general mood when he arrived at the door. Presumably, he was helped by the fact Merrill and I were avoiding each other's eyes, Bo still looked tearful, and Morgan was glaring at the floor with the expression of one willing to murder the next person who breathed in the wrong direction.

Graham sighed. "What happened?"

It was Merrill who told him, while Bo clung to my hand, and Graham's lips compressed as he listened. I watched nervously. Graham didn't say anything, but he turned to Morgan. "Go and get in the car." His voice was quiet, but his eyes flashed and Morgan did as he was told, without another word.

"I'll speak to him." Graham's voice was heavy with tiredness, as he held out his arms for Bo. She buried her face in her father's neck.

"Bye, Bo." I kissed her cheek.

She raised a hand solemnly but didn't speak. My heart sank. She was slipping away, back into silence, the very thing all of us were fighting to extricate her from.

"How's Ray?" I asked Graham, who was stroking his daughter's hair.

He sighed. In that moment, he looked much older than he should. The dying sunlight threw every line of his face into sharp relief.

"No different. And he should be showing something. They don't know what to try next."

I dropped my gaze. Merrill's hand didn't grip mine, but he bit his lip, avoiding Graham's eyes.

Graham sighed. "Nobody knows what to do." I got the feeling he didn't just mean Ray Reddy.

After we'd closed the door behind Graham, I slumped down onto the couch. "That went well."

Merrill shrugged. I frowned, glancing at him. The shadows under his eyes seemed more pronounced than usual. "Merrill?"

"What?"

"You just look-" I reached out to touch his arm.

"I'm fine." He leaned forward, out of my reach. I bit my lip, choosing not to comment.

"Are you sure-"

"I'm fine, Isabelle." Merrill grabbed the remote control and leaned back in the chair, his eyes fixed on the screen.

I stared at him. "No, you're not."

Merrill rolled his eyes, and I glared at him. "Don't look at me like that."

"Don't look at you like what?"

"Like I'm annoying you."

"Right now, you are."

I stared at him. The words seemed to sting my skin.

Merrill winced. "I didn't mean that. It's just-"

"Just leave it."

"Izzy-"

"No, just leave it if I'm annoying you."

"Oh, for God's sake, Izzy-"

"It's fine," I glared at him, moving away from his hand which was reaching for mine.

Merrill pressed his lips together-a habit he shared with Graham. "Fine."

"Fine."

It was anything but fine.

By the time we went to bed that night, we were both utterly silent, given that there seemed very little to say. My mind teemed with thoughts of Bo, the way her face had crumpled at Morgan's words, the way Graham had stared at his son before sending him to the car. It felt like everything was slipping away, as well as Bo herself.

I looked up to find Merrill watching me. He wasn't watching me the way he usually did-his eyes straying to mine, his hand touching mine before he'd lean in to kiss me. Instead, there was a strange emptiness to his stare-as though he'd lost something, something he didn't know if he'd get back.

"What?" My voice was gentler now, and I stared back, taking him in. For a moment, I wondered if he'd lean in and kiss me, even just for a second.

He didn't. The moment passed, and he turned away. "Nothing. Night."

I stared at him for a moment. Something about him looked lost, drained-almost empty. I bit my lip before turning over. "Night."

I didn't look at him or him at me. I curled up under the bedcovers and closed my eyes, trying to ignore the fact that this was the first night I could remember in months that I hadn't slept with his arms around me.

Something burns my skin, someone's scream piercing through the air, and a flicker of brown hair brushes in front of my gaze.

And a figure, a tall, black figure-standing beside a bed, looking down at a child. A sleeping girl.

The little girl was Bo.

I shot upright in bed, the sheets clinging to my skin. I didn't scream but it was a close call. I pushed my hands through my hair, and stared ahead through the darkness.

Something moved in the corner of the room.

I jumped, staring into the corner of the room. "Merrill?" My voice was a whisper.

But he was lying next to me, his head pillowed on his arm, lost in sleep. I looked away from him, registering with a slightly painful twinge that this was the first time that he hadn't been awake to hold me after a nightmare.

Then again, I couldn't expect him to be.

I squinted into the corner of the room, deciding that if it was an animal, it had no business being in here and could get out, and if it was an intruder, that I was probably about to die. But there was nothing there-nothing moving, at least, just shadows and moonlight.

Something flickered in my brain: a dark figure, standing tall beside a child's bed..a hand, reaching out...

I shook my head. It had to be from the dream.

I lay back down slowly, staring at Merrill once again, before turning to look at the moonlight filtering through the window.

I had to sort this out. Something was going on, something dangerous. And no matter what Merrill said, I couldn't disconnect this from what had happened over a year ago. It was impossible.

I closed my eyes then opened them again. Somehow, I was figuring out a plan. I needed to do something-the longer I waited, the stronger this-whatever "this" was-would get.

I needed information. I needed someone who knew about this stuff. Someone who read about it extensively, who'd been there last time it happened. Someone who knew what they were talking about. Someone who could help me.

"Let me get this straight." Morgan stared up at me. "You want me to help you research aliens again?"

I sighed. I should have known this wouldn't go smoothly. "I want you to help me find out stuff about the last invasion. I want you to help me find out information."

Morgan raised his eyebrow. He was getting alarmingly good at that. "How come?"

I raised my own. "A lot of reasons. Your sister. Ray Reddy. And there's strange stuff happening-"

And something's changed with Merrill and me. And I don't think it's something normal. Something's happening to him. He's slipping away. And-this is crazy-but I think he feels the same way about me.

Morgan frowned at me. "Dad won't talk about it. He doesn't want to admit there's anything wrong. Apart from taking Bo to see a shrink." He glared at the ground. "It's just like after Mom died."

I swallowed. There was a long, painful silence. Morgan avoided my eyes.

"I need to see your book." At this, he looked up.

"Which book?" He glanced anxiously at the house, his forehead creased. I knew that Bo was slumped in front of the TV and Merrill was inside, talking to Graham. I'd beckoned Morgan outside when no-one else was looking, under the pretext of asking him about school.

"The one you had last time." Those were the only words I needed to say.

Morgan exhaled slowly, raising his eyebrows. "OK. You must be worried because from what I remember, ninety percent of what that book told us would happen was bullshit."

I was past being shocked at cursing. "I'm worried about the other ten percent."

Morgan shrugged. "Fair point. But what do you think it's going to tell us?" He glanced back and forth, though there was nobody nearby. "I mean, I checked. There's nothing like what's happening to Bo."

I closed my eyes for a moment. It was what I'd expected-I'd have been stunned if Morgan hadn't examined the book for clues as to what was wrong with his sister-but it was still a disappointment. "Can I look at it, anyway?"

Morgan watched me for a moment, but then nodded. "Sure." With that, he turned back to the house, with another curious glance over his shoulder at me.

I sank down onto the steps, my phone in my hand. I flipped it open to see another text from Hannah.

How r things going with ur nephew? Call me.

I sighed. I'd told Hannah my musings on the situation with Bo-knowing she was one of the few people I could trust not to think me in need of a trip to a psychiatric ward.

Then again, after what had happened last year, could anyone describe things like this as imaginings or the ramblings of an insane mind?

With that in mind, I'd confided in my friend, about some of my wilder theories about what was going on at the moment-and she hadn't dismissed them. "It's a possibility" she'd said, glancing at me as we wandered down the street. "I mean, last time, dogs started acting crazy, didn't they? Maybe this time, it's little kids."

"Not sure Bo would appreciate being compared to a dog, but I know what you mean." I found myself thinking back to myself when I was Bo's age, when I'd started acting out, in ways that couldn't be explained. But with me, there'd been a clear problem, a clear solution. What if it wasn't that way with Bo?

"Anyway-" Hannah had glanced at me under her hair, her eyes shrewd. "It's not just Bo, is it? It's the birds, and Morgan's dream-thing-"

"It wasn't a dream." I'd gone over this point enough times in my mind to be sure.

Hannah raised an eyebrow. "Well, exactly. And then this stuff with you and Merrill-"

I'd bitten my lip and she'd come to a halt, her eyes on my face. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine. It's just-" I swallowed. "It's weird. It's not like either of us wants what's happening to happen. It's not like either of us is trying to pick fights. But it's like it's happening, anyway." I glanced at her. "Does that happen to everyone?"

Hannah sighed, lighting a cigarette. "Depends what you mean by everyone. You and Merrill, you're not like everyone."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

Hannah rolled her eyes, taking a long drag off her cigarette. "And they say you're smart. It's obvious you're not like everyone else. You two see each other in a way other people don't."

I stared at her. "That's still as clear as mud."

Hannah rolled her eyes again, and I wondered if they'd get permanently stuck in that position. "I mean, you and Merrill aren't like other people who get together, stick it out for a few months, and then decide they're not right for each other. You guys are different from that. You are right for each other. It's just right now-things are different."

"But why are they different?" I kicked at a loose paving stone, chewing my lip. I needed to know why things were changing. I needed to. If I didn't, how could I fix it?

There was a long moment of silence, before Hannah exhaled, lifting the cigarette from her lips. "Well" she said, dropping it to the ground. "Hopefully, you'll be able to find out."

Now, I sighed, glancing back at the house. Merrill was inside, I knew, with Graham and Bo, presumably chatting to his brother while Bo pretended to be absorbed in her television programme. I curled over my knees on the steps, unable to summon the motivation to text Hannah back.

Morgan reappeared a few moments later, the book wedged under his arm. "Here." He sank down beside me, shoving the book towards me. "I looked at most of it, but I guess I might have missed something."

I doubted it, but I picked up the book anyway, flicking to the index. I scanned the page frantically, not even knowing what I was looking for. Behaviour? Bizarre symptoms? Child?

Morgan sighed, and slumped against me, his head on my shoulder. "I don't know if you'll find anything."

I patted his head abstractedly, my eyes still on the page. It was a mark of the seriousness of the situation that Morgan did not pull away.

My eyes flickered over the various words. Markings...limbs...demonic...

I frowned. "Demonic?"

Morgan stared at me. "Where's it say that?"

I pointed at the index. "Right here. Page 452." I flicked to the page, and stopped dead, letting the book fall open over both of our laps.

Morgan scanned the pages beside me, his eyes flickering as rapidly as mine. "There!" His finger jabbed at a small paragraph, squashed in the bottom right hand corner of the page.

I squinted at the words. "Before extraterrestrials descended into pop culture-I think that was supposed to be funny-crop circles were commonly associated with other mythological and fantastical entities, such as demons, fairies and incubi. Demonic forces were sometimes thought to be responsible for the markings."

"That's weird." Morgan glanced at me. "But there aren't any markings in our crops."

We both glanced at the fields involuntarily.

I bit my lip, handing the book back to Morgan. "Maybe we should find out more about this stuff. Go back to Carl's. Look it up online."

"We'll have to use your computer" Morgan muttered, with another glance at the house. "We don't have one, and anyway Dad would go nuts if he thought I was looking up alien stuff again."

I sighed. "You don't have to do this if it's going to get you in trouble." I thought it beyond the call of duty of a twelve year old to have to risk punishment just to help me dig deeper into the supernatural world.

"I want to do this." Morgan's eyes were harder now, his gaze steadier. "Something's wrong with her." He didn't have to say who. "We need to find out what it is."

I sighed and nodded. "It's your choice."

Morgan nodded. "I'm in. But what are we going to tell everyone else?"

"I'll tell Graham I'm taking you to Carl's to pick out some books for a school project. I'll tell Merrill the same thing. And Hannah can meet us there. She's into this stuff too, plus her being Carl's niece can't hurt."

Morgan bit his lip and nodded. "It'll be worth it if we find out anything."

It took a moment, but I nodded.

"You guys are looking-" Carl squinted at us as if he'd recently seen our faces on a Wanted poster. "For books on extraterrestrials?"

Hannah nodded. "That's right."

"Hannah-" Carl spread his hands. "Hannah, for God's sake, I figured it out last night. It's the government. They know we don't trust them so much after the last invasion, right? Know we know that they can't protect us. So they think that if they can stage something else, something they can protect us from-"

"Have you ever heard the term "conspiracy theorist", Carl?"

But I was distracted from Hannah and Carl sniping at each other by the paper beside me. The headline seemed to scream up at me, demanding attention.

CURIOUS COMAS BEWILDER DOCTORS.

I picked up the paper, staring at the headline, before my eyes drifted to the large photograph below, of what looked like a hospital.

"Isabelle?" Hannah elbowed me. "What is it?"

In answer, I handed her the paper. She scanned the headline, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

"Jesus. How the hell-"

Morgan had wandered over to a shelf, and was pulling off books, seemingly at random. However, as I followed him over, I saw that there was a method behind the madness.

The titles spilled before my eyes: Sightings of the Years, Demons and Aliens: So Different, The Unexplained, Natural Phenomena.

It took me a moment to wonder just what a small town bookstore was doing with all these books.

"Where'd you get all these, Carl?"

"Shipments" Carl grunted, looking annoyed at being interrupted in his theory. "People want to feel protected."

Brilliant. Everyone was getting nervous. I glanced at the top of Morgan's head, bent over the pages.

"Found anything?"

"I've only just started looking!"

I rolled my eyes.

The door opened but I didn't turn round. I was too busy looking at the top of Hannah's head. She was staring at the page, as if she thought it might scream at her.

"Hey." I spun round at the voice but it wasn't addressing me. The boy with the shoulder-length dark hair behind me, was looking at Morgan, one eyebrow raised, his black leather jacket hanging loosely from his shoulders.

It took me a moment to recognize him, but when I did, my eyes basically fell out of my head. Devon Pritchard.

"Hey." Morgan had turned to look at him with a smile. I wondered if I could die from shock all over again.

Devon Pritchard shot me an uneasy glance and I avoided his eyes. I'd never spoken to Devon-he was one of the few members of the Pritchards I'd had the joy of avoiding. But Morgan was beaming at him.

Devon glanced at the book, which Morgan shoved under his arm as if it were a bomb. "What are you reading?"

Morgan shrugged. "Nothing. Just-"

I held up my hands. "I'll leave you to it." I turned to Hannah and raised an eyebrow. She shrugged back, gesturing to the newspaper article. "Look at this."

I read over her shoulder as Devon and Morgan withdrew to the recesses of the shelves. "Hospitals are reporting a significant increase in the amounts of coma patients in the last few weeks..." I glanced at Hannah. "Ray Reddy?"

"Yeah, and check this out. They all match his symptoms." Hannah pulled the paper close to her face and began to read aloud in a whisper. "Victims were frequently incoherent before losing consciousness..."

Carl was staring at us and I turned to face him. "Still think it's just a conspiracy? The government are drugging people to give them these fits? Ever heard of anything like that?"

Carl opened his mouth and I held up my hands. "Actually, on second thought, I don't want to know." I handed over the newspaper and turned to Morgan. "Morgan, come on. We need to get home."

Morgan and Devon Pritchard were standing next to each other, both examining the pages in front of them. Pritchard was muttering something, and Morgan was nodding.

"Morgan. We need to pay."

Morgan sighed, but, meeting my gaze, he turned to Devon. "See you later."

"See ya." I was surprised to see Devon Pritchard in a bookstore. I was surprised any of the Pritchards could read.

A second later, I regretted thinking the remark. It didn't necessarily follow that Devon was like his brother.

Though it was a distinct possibility.

Morgan handed me the books and I stared at him. "You're expecting me to pay?"

Hannah snorted with laughter, as Morgan stared up at me, eyes wide. "It's for my sister. And I don't have any money."

Hannah outright cackled as I glared at my nephew. "These books had better be worth it."

"I'll take some and you take some" I said, as we scrambled out of the car onto the Hess driveway. "Keep them in your bag."

Morgan nodded. "Dad won't see, don't worry."

I sighed. "It feels like I'm giving you alcohol or something."

Morgan grinned and I shook my head. "No, I cannot, and don't even ask."

Morgan shrugged. "Worth a try."

I sighed. "Just have a look through them tonight" I said, stuffing two of the books into his backpack. "We'll be seeing you tomorrow, we'll talk over it then. I'll check on the Internet tonight, see if there's any information."

Morgan glowered at the ground. "Wish I had a computer."

"Well, I'm not buying you one of those." Hannah snorted, as I steered Morgan up the driveway, my hand on his shoulder. "And how do you know Devon Pritchard?"

It might have been my imagination but Morgan flushed slightly. "Just from school. We're in some of the same classes."

"I thought you were in Honours Classes?"

"I am, but not for everything."

I frowned. "He's not bothering you or anything?"

"No. He's fine." Morgan quickened his pace, half-running up the steps. "I'll let Dad know we're home." Hannah and I stood and watched his retreating back as he disappeared into the house.

"Well, that was weird" Hannah muttered.

I turned to look at her. "You think he was lying?"

"Not sure." She sighed, crossing her arms. "But they didn't look as if they hated each other in Carl's. Look, I'll have to go, soon. Darren said he'd call."

I eyed her suspiciously. "You're pretty close for people who aren't serious."

Hannah held up her hands. "Hey, I told you: career. That doesn't mean I'm not interested in him. And with the stuff that's been going on recently-" She let her voice trail off, but she didn't need to say anymore.

I bit my lip. "Just hope things are all right with-" I nodded towards the house and Hannah sighed.

"It'll turn out OK, Isabelle. You and Merrill-you just need to talk to each other. He loves you. You love him. It'll be fine."

I nodded, as she wrapped me in a hug, and buried my face in her shoulder, wishing I could be as certain as she was.

I drummed my fingers on the duvet cover, waiting for the phone to pick up at the other end. "Come on, Mom" I muttered, staring at the cover of one of the books I'd bought. "Come on-you're the one who insists I call every other day, come on-"

I glanced at the door. I knew Merrill was still up, watching the baseball, but I'd told him I needed an early night. He'd barely blinked and I'd squinted at him, taking in the shadows under his eyes. He was pale, and he looked permanently wiped out. I'd wanted to hug him, wanted to let him rest his head on my shoulder but something in me wouldn't let me.

I sighed and leaned my head back against the pillows. When the phone picked up at the other end, I could have cried with relief. "Hey, Mom."

"Hey, Isabelle." I could almost picture her frowning. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing much. It's just-" I sighed and shifted onto my side, half-burying the phone in the pillow. "I'm just worried about Merrill and me, that's all."

My mother sighed. "Did something happen, Isabelle?"

I twisted my face. Nothing had actually happened-that was the problem. "It's just-nothing's happening-there's just this tension between us-all the time." I yanked at a loose thread on the duvet cover viciously. "And-I don't know what to do."

My mother sighed. "Isabelle-" I could picture her running her hand through her hair. "Have you tried talking to Merrill about this?"

I shook my head. "Nope. We're not really speaking much at the moment."

My mother sighed. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Listen, most couples go through a bad patch."

"Did it ever happen to Dad and you?"

My mother took a moment before replying. "A couple of times. But we always got through it."

"How?" I remembered sitting on the stairs as a child, staring through the banisters and listening. Maybe if you weren't at work all the time-

What do you expect me to do, give up my job?

Maybe if you were here with her more often-

"We talked about it."

That's not what I remember.

"Not always, you didn't."

It took my mother a moment to answer. "OK. That's a fair point. But, Isabelle, you need to try talking to Merrill. He's not a mind reader. He might not even have any idea that he's upsetting you."

I sighed. It was more complicated than that. But how could I explain it to my mother when I couldn't even explain it to myself?

"Listen, you're coming over next week. Why don't we talk about it, then?"

I sighed. "I guess."

"How's Bo?"

"Graham said she's started waking up at night."

"Like you, then."

"Huh?"

"As a kid, when you had nightmares-" She broke off, and I heard my father's voice in the background. "Listen, we've got visitors, and your father says hi."

"Go entertain them." I didn't want to drag her into it any more than I had to.

"Love you, Isabelle." I knew she wanted to say more, but what more was there to say?

"Love you, too." I stared at the phone until she hung up, then turned back to the book on top of the pile.

No time like the present to get started. I let the cover fall open and my eyes skimmed to the contents, the sounds of the baseball game on the television soon just a distant echo.

There were no nightmares that night, so I wasn't sure why I sat bolt upright, staring around the bedroom, clutching the covers. An image teased at the edge of my mind-a tall, black shadow-

I blinked and the image seemed to slip away, like water through fingers.

I pushed my hand through my hair, noting dimly that the strands stuck to my skin, damp with sweat. The sheets were twisted around me, and I knew I must have been thrashing around for a good few minutes before I woke up.

Merrill was curled up to my side, his head pillowed on his arm. I stared at him. The fact that he hadn't woken up wasn't the only unusual thing. He looked smaller, younger, curled up like that-almost like a child.

He shifted slightly, curling tighter. A strange sound-almost like a whimper-came from his throat.

I stared at him. "Merrill?" My voice was a whisper, but my hand touched his hair. "Merrill?"

His eyelids flickered, but then he curled further into the pillow, his hand opening and closing round the material.

I sighed and flopped back down. I closed my eyes, but the figure from my dream hovered behind my eyelids. Still waiting.

Still watching.

My phone rang the next morning as I was gathering my things together. "Hello?" I had to perform a sort of bizarre juggling act with my cell phone and my books as I transferred the phone to my ear.

"Isabelle?" I didn't recognize the voice for a moment and frowned, shoving two of my books under my arm. "Yeah?"

"Isabelle, it's Carl." I sank down onto my bed, frowning. "Hey, Carl. What's up?"

There was a long sigh at the other end of the phone. "Hey, Isabelle. Listen-if you're serious about these books you've been buying-"

"The stuff about the paranormal?"

"Yeah. Well, listen, this new book arrived this morning-looks like it came by mistake-and I was wondering if you'd be interested in picking it up."

"Sure." The word was out of my mouth before I'd even thought about it. It was only then that it occurred to me to ask "What is it?"

I was hoping it wasn't a book on growing orange tomatoes or something.

"It's just-" Carl sighed. "D'you want the title?"

I nodded, then rolled my eyes, remembering he couldn't see me. "Yes. Sure."

"OK." He cleared his throat. "Demonic Influences: The Study of Evil."

My first impulse was to snigger at the title. My second was to wonder what kind of prat would name their book something that sounded like a documentary on serial killers. A cheesy, overwrought, over-the-top documentary on serial killers.

But what else did I have? "I'll pick it up after classes."

"OK. I'll keep it for you."

"Thanks, Carl." Not that I wasn't already overloaded with books on evil and the paranormal but Morgan would murder me if he found out there was another option I hadn't looked at.

"Take care of yourself, Isabelle."

"You too, Carl."

The dialling tone at the other end told me Carl had hung up. That made sense-he wasn't much for sentimentality. Just telling me to take care of myself had probably been a struggle.

But still, it looked like there was a new book to pick up.

"What are you picking up?" Merrill's voice made me jump, and I spun round on the bed. "Didn't know you were still here" I said, when I could speak again. "Thought you'd already gone."

Merrill shrugged. "Evidently." Usually, he'd have sank down beside me, sliding his arm around my shoulders. But today, he stood still in the doorway, staring at me. "What are you picking up?"

I sighed. I hadn't told Merrill anything about what Morgan and I were doing, for several reasons, only a few of which were self-serving. One-he'd freak out. Two-we hadn't been speaking much. Three-I didn't want us to start speaking even less by annoying him by continually worrying about the paranormal. Four-I didn't want Graham worrying about Morgan and I worrying about Bo.

However, there were very few simple ways to explain all of this to Merrill, so I settled for simply saying "Just a book. Paranormal stuff." I held my breath, praying he'd just see it as my usual interest in weird stuff and blow it off.

Merrill raised an eyebrow. "This is something to do with Bo, isn't it?"

Drat.

"Yeah" I said, abandoning all pretence. "How did you-"

Merrill was already rolling his eyes. "You know this isn't going to help, right?"

"What do you mean?" I was already gathering my books up, avoiding his gaze.

"This isn't going to make everything that's happening to Bo just clear up."

I was still avoiding his eyes. "That's not what I'm doing."

"Really? Looks like it from where I'm standing."

I turned to stare at him. Merrill was staring back, with exactly the same expression. "Well, then maybe you're looking wrong." My tone was level, but there was an icy edge to the words.

"Maybe. Or maybe you just don't want to admit you can't help her."

"What do you mean?" I was heading out the door now, shoving it with more force than I needed to. "You know I don't help her. It's the doctor that will help her." I headed outside, feet striking the ground harder than usual, and stood by the car, waiting for Merrill to catch up.

"But you want it to be you." We scrambled into the car, Merrill having slammed the front door behind him. "You want it to be you that helps her."

I turned to glare at him as he shoved the keys into the ignition. "And why would I want that?"

"Because she reminds you of you and you can't stand it." Merrill revved the engine into life like a full stop at the end of a sentence. He stared straight ahead, his jaw tensed, his hands clutching the wheel tightly, bones poking against his skin.

I stared at him. "That's what you think?" My voice was sharper than usual, and I found myself clutching the seat, my fingers digging into the fabric.

Merrill turned to look at me. "Yeah. Actually, it is." He turned back to the windshield, staring straight ahead.

"Well, maybe you're wrong."

Merrill shrugged. "Maybe I am." He didn't sound particularly bothered, though and I gritted my teeth, wondering if that would hold me back from screaming at him. I stared out through the window instead, into the rainstorm.

We didn't speak again until after we pulled up outside the school. "See you" I muttered, already pulling at the door handle.

Merrill sighed. "Isabelle-"

"Forget it."

"Look, I didn't-"

"No, I said forget it, so forget it." I slammed the door behind me without saying goodbye, and didn't look back as I turned towards the steps. But I had to fight the urge to wrap my arms around myself, and I shivered, the rain soaking my hair, a chill running down my spine despite the fact it was only October.

"You look like you just watched someone die" was Hannah's blunt remark. I glared at her.

She held her hands up defensively. "Hey, don't get mad at me-I'm just saying. What's wrong?"

I slumped against her. "Merrill and me is what's wrong."

"What's happened now?" Hannah steered me to a seat, where I sank down, pushing my hand through my hair.

"We keep arguing and we keep fighting and we're not talking properly-" I let my head fall into my hands, and pushed them through my hair. "And we keep doing this over and over, and I'm fed up of it and-"

It was around then that I became aware that half the room was staring at me. Hannah was staring at me and it was then I realised that my voice had become embarrassingly high-pitched.

Hannah bit her lip, as people slowly looked away again. "Isabelle-"

"I know" I retorted before she could finish. "I need to talk to him, we need to talk it out. But I just know that when we do, we're going to end up screaming at each other."

"Well-" Hannah's brow furrowed. "Maybe that's for the best."

I snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Oh, just tell Merrill to screw himself if he's annoying you."

I fought the urge to kick something. "This is more than just some stupid fight, you know. This is serious, for Christ's sake."

Hannah sighed. "I can't see you and Merrill breaking up."

I shrugged. "Neither could I."

"Past tense?"

"I don't want us to break up. I love him but-" My voice trailed off. What was the but for? What was it that was making us this generally-pissed-off at each other?

I pushed my hands through my hair. "I don't know what to do." My voice was annoyingly high.

Hannah leaned her head against mine, apparently at a loss for what to tell me. "You'll figure it out" she said, in a tone of some hopelessness.

Thanks for the reassurance, there, Hannah.

It took a matter of minutes to pick up the book after school from Carl, but it was long enough for him to squint at me. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." I was lying through gritted teeth. My head was pounding and I shoved the book into the bag with more force than necessary. Did I even really need it? There hadn't been any more birds, there hadn't been anything too weird-maybe it had all blown over.

But the nagging feeling in the back of my mind told me that wasn't true.

"Isabelle-" I cast a quick glance over my shoulder at Carl as I turned away. "What?"

Carl watched me for a long moment. "Just...say hi to Merrill for me."

I muttered something non-committal before turning away, yanking my hood up as I headed out into the rainstorm once again.

I'd known Merrill and I would end up yelling at each other at some point, I just hadn't been sure when.

But that night, I got my answer.

"Merrill, can you turn that down?"

"I just did."

"Then, turn it down more. I need to concentrate." The words were snapped, rushed, my eyes fixed on a page. Another time, I might have offered a smile, or moved across to sit next to him, let my arms slide around him, whisper an apology, my lips breathing words into his. But tonight, I was staring at the pages of a book whose words I wasn't taking in, and every sound seemed to grate against the inside of my skull like nails on a blackboard.

Merrill rolled his eyes but turned down the volume, anyway. I didn't look at him as I muttered "Thanks."

I stared at the pages again, my eyes running over the words. I closed my eyes and leaned my head on my hands, running my fingers through my hair. I let the cover fall closed.

"I can't concentrate on this." I shoved the book away without thinking, leaving it out on the coffee table.

Merrill reached for it, before I could stop him. "What is it?" He picked it up, his eyes skimming over the cover.

It wasn't homework. It was the book Carl had given me.

Merrill looked at me. "This isn't just your usual stuff, is it?"

I shook my head.

"You think this stuff has got something to do with Bo?"

I took the coward's way out and shrugged.

Merrill ran his hand through his hair. "Jesus, Izzy."

"I was just looking at it." I hated how defensive my voice sounded. Why should I have to justify myself to Merrill? He was my boyfriend, not my father.

"Isabelle, for God's sake, not every weird thing that happens is down to something like this!" Merrill pointed at the book as if it personally had tried to tell him there was something supernatural about Bo's behaviour.

"I didn't say everything." My own voice was getting louder now. "What, you think that Morgan waking up and seeing Bo outside and her having no freaking memory of it is what? Normal?"

"I don't know what he saw." Merrill was glaring back at me. "I just know that you're getting completely obsessed with it."

"Because it's freaking weird, Merrill, that's why!"

"It's not weird, she's just-" He trailed off. "She's-"

"What, troubled? That explains how she has no memory."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Izzy-"

"No, Merrill, there's something going on. You know there's something going on. Stop pretending just so it's easier for you-"

"Oh, thanks, Isabelle."

"You just don't want to accept it, Merrill. You just don't want to accept that there might be something weird going on-"

"No, I just don't want to drag every little weird thing into this freaking conspiracy theory you've got-"

"For Christ's sake, your twelve-year-old nephew can see what's going on and you can't-"

"Who said anything about Morgan?"

I bit my lip and Merrill's eyes widened. "Oh, for Christ's sake-"

"What?"

"You got him involved?"

"I didn't get him involved, I just told him about what was-"

"Would it have killed you to keep it quiet?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know I needed your permission before I talked to my nephew."

"Oh, well, I didn't know that Morgan wasn't allowed to go one day without getting dragged into some screwed-up bullshit you've got in your head, like always-"

I stared at him and his eyes widened.

"Thanks, Merrill, that's lovely." My voice was low and level.

Merrill's mouth opened and closed. He looked like a very surprised goldfish.

I stood up, determined not to show him how much it stung, and he followed. "That's not how I meant it."

"That's exactly how you meant it."

"Oh, for God's-"

"No, no, it's fine, Merrill, because if that's how you think of me, I'd really rather you said instead of staying quiet, like you think I'm some kind of special snowflake-"

"Yeah, that's it, make me out to be the bad guy. Why d'you always have to overreact-"

"I'm overreacting? You're the one acting like I've inducted Morgan into some sort of cult-"

"Because you've dragged him into it!"

"He wanted to be involved!"

"He doesn't know that, Isabelle, he's freaking twelve!"

"Oh, for God's sake, would you stop patronizing him?"

"He's twelve!"

"You were the one wanting him to get into fights-"

"Are you completely incapable of getting a joke?"

"Are you completely incapable of being serious?"

"Well, congratulations." Merrill was glowering at me, and I could see the tension in his arms where his fists were clenched. "I'm serious now."

I stepped closer to him, then, so that we were inches apart. "You know what? Why am I even listening to you? You haven't so much as looked at me for days. Now, you choose to start listening?"

"That's not true, Isabelle-"

"Yeah, it is. And you know what else? I don't have to confide in you. I'm not obliged to run all my decisions past you-"

"Oh, for God's sake, grow up, Isabelle."

"You're one to tell anyone to grow up" I hissed, taking another step towards him. "Who the hell do you think you are, Merrill? I'm not your freaking pet."

Merrill was staring at me like I'd gone insane. "Where the hell's this coming from?"

"I could ask you the same thing! You've been snapping at me for days now-"

"You've been snapping at me!"

We glared at each other, both of us gasping for breath. We'd had arguments before, even ones where we ended up yelling at each other, but never like this. There'd always been a point where we'd stop or, on the rare occasions it escalated into a sort of cold war between us, one of us would eventually be the one to whisper some sort of apology, and the fight would end there. We'd never had a fight like this.

"You know what, Merrill?" I took another step towards him. "What is your problem? If you don't care about this-"

"If I don't care about what?"

I ticked my finger back and forth between us.

Merrill rolled his eyes. "Jesus, why do you always bring it back to this? Why do you always have to think the worst of everything-"

"I'm not, I'm just wondering what the hell you expect to happen-"

"You know what, Isabelle?" Merrill took a step towards me this time. "You knew you shouldn't have got Morgan involved. That's why you didn't tell me. You'd have had no problem telling me if you thought it was fine."

"No, I didn't tell you because I knew you'd freak out-"

"He's twelve!"

"And you didn't care about that when you wanted him to be beating up Devon Pritchard-"

Merrill opened his mouth and then threw his hands down. "I'm going out." He headed for the door, grabbing his jacket from the couch on the way out.

"Yeah, that's right, Merrill. Go and storm out because you can't face up to being wrong, because you're a coward-" The words tumbled out without my volition, anger fuelling my voice.

Merrill froze for an instant before wheeling back around to face me. "What?"

"Go on." I gestured at the door. "Go and walk out. That's all you want to do. You don't want to bother resolving anything-"

"What is there to resolve?"

"Well, why should you care? All you want is to get out of here."

"Can you blame me?"

"Why don't you just go, then?" My throat was burning, I was shouting so loudly. "The door's right there. Why don't you just go?" It was only then that I realised that my eyes were burning and my cheeks were wet.

Merrill took a step towards me then and something about the idea of him comforting me after this snapped something in half. "No." I took a step back from him. "Don't come near me. Just go, if you want to go."

He stood still for a minute, and my voice rose. "What? You can't remember where the door is? Are you that stupid, Merrill?"

Merrill jerked slightly, as if I'd slapped him. I might as well have done. I stared at him, my shoulders shuddering as if I'd just fallen from a great height.

Merrill dropped his gaze for a moment, then looked up at me. His eyes were cool now, but I could see the effort it took for him to keep his face composed. "Fine." He turned towards the door but not before I saw the way he pressed his lips together, as if to stop himself saying anything more.

"Merrill-" My voice trailed off. I didn't even know what I wanted to say.

"Don't, Izzy."

"What do you-"

"I said don't, so don't."

"Merrill-"

He yanked the door open.

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"When will you be back?"

Merrill turned to stare at me. "I don't know, Izzy. Maybe I'm stupid."

I blinked as he turned away. "Merrill-"

The door slammed behind him.

I waited for a moment. I wrapped my arms around myself. It took me a few seconds to realise I was trembling.

I sank down onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. It was only now that he was gone that I let tears soak into my hair, leaking through my fingers. The TV played in the background, the book lying on the coffee table, forgotten, as I buried my head in my hands.

God, Izzy and Merrill. Honestly, just talk to each other.

Here's the soundtrack for Chapter 3:

Mine by Taylor Swift

Teenage Dream by Katy Perry

Escape Route by Paramore

The Chase by Kill Hannah

Don't Go Slow by Benjamin Francis Leftwich

Don't Stay by Linkin Park

Statues Without Eyes by Kill Hannah.

And no, I didn't get Hannah's name from the band Kill Hannah, if anyone was wondering. :)

Leave a review if you liked it. :)