 
My Brother's Girlfriend

It wasn't supposed to be like this. You were supposed to be just like the rest. You weren't supposed to be special. I wasn't supposed to hurt him. I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you, my brother's girlfriend
chapter one: Sarah (Move Along)

My least favorite thing to do, is stay in a small room for a long period of time. It's not something I enjoy. It even reaches the extent where you could say I hate it with every cell in my body. It's only half an hour into the movie, and already I feel a cold sweat dribbling down my back. My palms feel clammy, and so I nervously wiped them on the thighs of my jeans. My mouth is dry as parchment, and my tongue feels like a rock in a desert. I can't get up, though, because my parents know this is my favorite movie. I love Practical Magic. It's witty and funny and romantic. But I can't focus. The room is spinning as I try and keep my eyes on the screen, but to no ends.

It's until I'm ready to pass out that I mutter something about the bathroom and stumble out of my own living room and into our fortunately monumental kitchen. The ceiling is over three meters high, and behind the sink to my left is a ten foot wide, floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked our fifteen acres of land. An island is at the center of the kitchen, where I walk to. A faucet is there, with a mini sink, and it's mainly for drinking water. We have our own well in the back yard so we get all fresh water. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet beneath the island, I fill it halfway and chug it down. Slowly, I feel feeling come back into my limbs and my mouth became more moisturized.

You could say I'm claustrophobic, but that's only part of the story. Yes, I do carry around that phobia with me every single day of my life, but it's not one of those things I've had my entire life. I wouldn't say it started recently, but... let's just say, my parents don't even know. And I have a pretty good relationship with them.

I don't sneak out of the house at nighttime, or disobey their orders. But I know how to party, get drunk, and hide it from my family's knowledge. I just bend the rules. I don't break them, I just find loopholes. I'm not a goodie-two-shoes, but I'm not a disappointment for my successful parents either.

I breathe deeply inward, and then out. And then again. And then again, and again, and again. I continue this routine, listening to the sounds and voices coming from the surround-sound of our TV in the living room, which oddly was the smallest room in the house. Now that I feel the gentle breeze from the fan above me, and water trickling down my throat, and anything but silence, I feel better. I can see outside, and I have room to do what I want. I have room to run. To run away if I need to. I have room to fight back. Unlike when I was with him.

My soon-to-be flashback was cut off, thankfully, when the door in the far corner creaked open. Matthew, my brother, showed his tan face and slick black hair in the doorway. He was smiling broadly, and a slim, tall figure followed him as he entered the kitchen.

"Hey Slut," he greeted me casually, using the nickname he frequently called me, though I knew he never would actually mean something like that or insult me in anything beyond a brotherly manner.

"Hey Prude," I responded with a weak smile.

"You call your sister a slut?" the girl that had been trailing along with Matt said in a silky voice. She was, like Matt, tall and lean. Her long, dark brown, curly hair was tied up in a neat ponytail, and her side bangs fell out, framing her oval face nicely. She had an eyebrow raised at Matt with an amused glint in her eyes.

"Of course, why wouldn't I?" he replied sweetly, kissing her lightly on the mouth.

So this is Isabelle,I thought.

She was pretty, undeniably. High cheekbones, cute smile, sparkling eyes and nice figure. She was dressed appropriately; regular jeans and a nice-fitting white v-neck. Not like an actual slut, like a few of Matt's previous girlfriends. She seemed sweet, but it was hard to decide whether she was out of his league, or just plain out not his type.

"You're Sarah, right? I'm Isabelle," she introduced, holding out her hand. It was a formal gesture, but the way she held herself as she did it was very casual and comfortable.

I always liked seeing how Matt's numerous relationships turned out, so I made sure to be polite each time I met them. I shook her hand, feeling a bit silly as I smiled. "Yea, Matt's told me a lot about you."

"Good things, I hope," Isabelle said with a smirk, elbowing Matt lightly in the ribs.

Matt grinned, and his eyes shone as he looked her straight in the eyes. Also unlike his previous girlfriends, this one was actually capable of looking him in the eye levelly. I should probably stop comparing her to the rest of them, because if she was dating Matt, that means the others never worked out. So maybe she'll be good for him, maybe a change is what Matt needs.

"Oh I almost forgot," Matt said, reaching into the pockets of his jeans. He pulled out a small white box, something you might expect for jewelery to be in. "Can you give this to Mom? I saw it and thought she might like it."

Taking the box from his hands, I nodded. I plucked off the lid, and inside was a pair of gorgeous dangling diamond earrings. Even though the money had come from his allowance our parents gave him, it was still a sweet thing of him. He was always being nice to our mom, and not one of those teenage boys that was a douche bag to his family. I knew it wasn't something he just did to impress his girlfriends, it was because he cared.

All in all, he's a great brother and son.

"Sure. Want me to tell her you're here with... her?" I said, pointing my chin at Isabelle, who smiled a little, but also slightly frowned at the same time.

"Yea, thanks Slut."

"Sure."

Putting the lid back on, I went back into the living room. The movie was at the part where they had just brought back one of the sister's psychotic boyfriend from, the dead, who they had accidentally killed when he "kidnapped" them. But really what they brought back was some sort of demon thing and so he tried to kill the sister, and then the other sister thwacked him in the head with a pan and he died.. again.

"Mom?" I said into the darkness, trying to suppress the anxiety rising in me at the sight of the boyfriend choking the sister. "Matt's here, and he brought Isabelle."

"Oh, wonderful!" she exclaimed enthusiastically. Mom always got overly excited when Matt brought home a girl. I think it was because I never brought home a boyfriend that she could meet, and I was her daughter. With me at the age of sixteen and never been kissed (as far as she knows), she thinks she did something wrong somewhere along the way. At least she doesn't give me crap about it.

Mom was an average-height, plump woman with shoulder-length blond hair. She had this friendly aura around her, and no matter what mood you were in, she could always lighten up your day with a simple smile.

"Isabelle! Oh, I've heard so much about you from Matthew."

Smiling from ear-to-ear, Isabelle replied, "Likewise." Again with the formal actions, but casual movements as she held out her hand.

Mom seemed too thrilled at this gesture, and couldn't stop smiling.

Isabelle also seemed amused by my mother, and glanced at me. Her smile thickened. Her eyes, I noticed, were a chocolate brown, almost golden. It seemed as if she were trying to tell me something with those eyes, but Matt ruined her attempt.

"So Mom, Isabelle's parents are out of town, so would it be okay if she spent the night?" Matt asked. I noticed how his arm was now around Isabelle's waist, who noticed me eyeing his arm. She smiled again before looking at my mother.

My mom threw her arms in the air, and said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "Why, of course! She can stay as long as she liked. Sarah, dear, can you grab a few extra pillows and a blanket from the basement?"

Isabelle looked embarrassed as she said "No no, it's okay, really. I'll be fine with what Matt has. Really, I wouldn't want to bother Sarah."

I shrugged, and gave her a small smile. "Don't worry about it."

With that, I wove around the love birds and Mom blabbing about how cute they were, and descended the stairs into the basement.

I thought about how quick it was Matt had gotten over Chelsea, his last girlfriend. Now she was one who definitely qualified as a slut. She wore lace leggings and literally lingerie. I'm not kidding, Mom actually yelled at Matt for bring a hooker into the house because she actually thought Chelsea was one. But despite her taste in clothing, Chelsea was pretty cool. She had a great personality, was really funny and actually smart, believe it or not. Matt was really into her, but then she showed her skanky side again and slept with half of the football team. Matt ended things, and was quiet for a while. I tried to cheer him up by playing video games with him, or getting him tickets to games and stuff like that, just spend time with him. He was only a year older than me, and we were really close. Practically best friends. When we ask about each others' day, he tells me the truth about things that happened instead of saying "It was fine," and I did the same. I was his best friend that was a girl, he was mine that was a guy.

So what does a little sister do when a girl cheats on her best friend?

She teepee's her house, of course.

I remember the night clear as day. I had gotten a ride from one of Matt's friends who never liked Chelsea anyway, and together we threw toilet paper over her house, threw eggs at her windows, and tomatoes on her car. When the lights had flicked on, we'd ran out of there and drove away. Plenty of people despise Chelsea, so I doubt she knew it was me.

And then, about ten days later, Matt told me about Isabelle, and a few days after that I was meeting her. I guess guys just move on faster than girls, because I know tons of people who would still be distraught over someone cheating on them with seven people. Then again, most people I know are naive sappy girls that still think there's a Prince Charming out there and is going to buy them diamonds every day.

As I gave Isabelle the blankets and, I gave her a worried, protective look. I think she understood what I was asking of her, because a light smile tugged at her lips, and she faintly nodded.

I think she understood I was asking her not to hurt him.

Chapter Two

chapter two: Isabelle (Not Like That)

A person's posture says a lot about someone. If it's slouched and hunched over, they're typically a lazy person. If it's completely straight, then that tends to mean they're very uptight and strictly follow the rules. If it's a good curved one, but strained, then they're trying to change who they used to be, and that shows determination. But Sarah, hers was naturally curved, and comfortable. I could tell she knows not everything is going to go as planned and she won't always get what she wants, and money won't always be the answer to her problems. She was reasonable, but I also got the feeling something tragic happened to make her realize that. Sarah's posture told me she was damaged, but to her that didn't mean she was broken or weak. To her, it meant she knew she could survive.

I pursed my lips as I examined her. I sat Matt in her, even though in ways their looks couldn't be more opposite. He had dark hair and tan skin, her hair was blond and her skin fair. But I saw Matt in the way she firmly set her jaw, or the placement of her feet. Her smile was similar to his. It was the little things that they did the same. Frankly, all I could see that was different was the obvious traits people noticed first handed, and their posture.

I know I'm good at reading people. That doesn't make me cocky, though. It's good to know your strengths and faults. I know I can't do anything artistic to save my life (writing, music, drawing, etc.), but I'm aware that I'm better than the average teenage girl at Math. I know what I can and can't do.

I felt a pang of guilt when Matt asked his mom if I could spend the night. I remember the drive over, how he'd been saying we were just going to stop by, I'd meet his parents, and then he'd take me home. He did mention the idea of me spending the night, because I had said I didn't like being home alone. But I said no, that I didn't want to intrude. In the end, I got him to promise that he wouldn't. But then he caught me off guard by doing it anyway.

And then Sarah was asked to get me a blanket and pillow? God dammit, I almost kicked Matt right there. While stating that I'd be fine, I was secretly plotting the different maneuvers of torture I could inflict upon him.

After Sarah retreated to the door behind me, Matt's mother said "Where are your parents?"

Tearing my attention away from the door Sarah had disappeared behind, I fixed my gaze on Katherine. "Mexico. They're anniversary is this weekend."

"Oh, that's nice."

"Yea."

I wasn't one of those people that talked much. I kept most of my feelings to myself, and only occasionally let myself slip up and show some sign of emotion. But I don't know how to carry on a conversation. I can give my 100% effort, but compared to someone else with better communication skills, it might as well be 10%. So like I said, I'm social, but I don't talk much. Which is why a tarp of silence settled over Matt, his mom, and I.

"Where's Dad?" Matt asked her as I shifted my weight.

"Hm, I believe he's still at work."

"He's a doctor, right?" I asked, giving that 100%.

Smiling proudly, as if it were her son and not her husband she was speaking of, she replied, "Chief of Surgery. Very fine one at that. Won many awards." The way she said it didn't give the impression she was bragging, more as if she were just.... sharing.

"Oh, nice."

Matt, obviously noting my discomfort, tightened his grip on my waist, and said something about how we were going to head up. "You can tell Sarah we'll be in my room. She can just come in." Matt slipped away from me, kissed his mom on the cheek, whispering goodnight before coming back to me and turning as in the opposite direction. I noticed the basement door was still firmly shut. I sighed slightly, for Sarah had come off as someone I would enjoy the presence of, maybe become friends with. Maybe more.

No, Isabelle, stop. You're not like that anymore.

I took a deep breath, and looked up at Matt. We were trudging up the stairs, and he had a light smile on his face. It took me a moment to realize he was looking at me too. He smirked at my startled expression, and when we were at the top of the spiraling stairs, he planted his lips on mine, kissing me softly.

"Your sister seems sweet," I commented a minute later as he shut his bedroom door behind us.

"Yup, she's great," he responded.

"You guys close?" I asked, sitting down on the edge of his bed. His room was about twice the size of my living room and kitchen combined. It had a window on the slanted ceiling, and the walls were a pearly white. The wall opposite the doorway, though, looked like a giant chalkboard. I remember once seeing that kind of paint, where you could make any surface a chalkboard and write on it. Chunks of chalk lay around his cluttered room, but unlike most teenage boys' chambers, his you could see the floor and at least half of the walls, and there were no posters of half-naked girls. He was respectable, and sweet, and sensitive, and now his bedroom proved that to me.

"Yea, my mom used to say we might as well be twins. I've always had her back, she's always had mine." He shrugged, implying there was not much else to say. "You have any siblings?"

Despite our attraction towards each other, and I already knew so much about him, he didn't know much about me. I said before I'm a quiet, guarded person. It's true. All Matt really knew about me was I was dating him exclusively, my parents are together and they work as school teachers at a school I've never gone to, I get good grades, and a few other small details. He doesn't know me, but maybe he will one day, like I know him.

I nodded, half-smiling as a handful of overwhelming memories threatened to take over. "Yea. I do."

***

Matt had taken the floor. He'd been a sweetheart and insisted on sleeping on the carpeted floor instead of sharing the bed with me, making me sleep somewhere else, or sleeping somewhere else himself. His home was different than most rich people's houses. Instead of the eerie hallways at night, or the feeling someone was always watching you, it was comfortably quiet. Even when his dad, Tom, snuck in late and you could hear the soft padding of his feet outside the door, it was still a nice place to be at night. Matthew's home gave off the impression that nothing wrong would ever happen there, nothing overbearingly tragic, would ever occur, or ever had.

I woke up about an hour before Matt. The clock read ten, so I figured one of his parents must be awake. I wanted them to approve of me, even though he told me they were very loose and accepting of people. So why not try and give another attempt at a conversation?

I went into the bathroom down the hall silently, and splashed some water into my face. I ran my fingers through my messy hair, not wanting to be rude and use the comb lying about in the bathroom. I rinsed my mouth with water, trying to get rid of the morning breath, dried my face, and left.

It took a little bit of time to find my way back to the staircase, and when I did, twenty minutes had already passed since I had woken up.

I was surprised to find the kitchen deserted, the living room empty, as well as the dining room. I didn't want to intrude, but I didn't feel like going back to Matt's room either. I shouldn't leave, because that would be rude, and I wasn't able to anyway. Matt drove me here.

Overcoming my awkward feeling, I stepped up to the sink, supporting myself on my arms, and gazed out the window. It was a beautiful landscape. Small hills, healthy trees, a magnificent garden full of vegetables and flowers, most of which I had never seen before. I was still admiring the view when a voice spoke startled me from behind.

"Nice, huh?"

I spun around to see Sarah standing on the opposite side of the room behind the island in pajama shorts and a purple wife beater. Her honey-blond hair spilled over her shoulders, and again with the easy-going but tense posture as she leaned back against the fridge.

Realizing she was referring to the view, I nodded. "It's beautiful."

She too nodded, and surprised me with her modest words. "It is, a lot better than most people have. I'm sure there's people that deserve a place like this more than we do. War veterans, and stuff."

Sarah didn't peg me as the type to be concerned about those kind of problems, when she was only sixteen. I'm a year older and all I worry about financially is the scholarships I'm going to need to get if I want a good college, not other people worse off than I am.

All I could come up with as a reply was "Yea."

Looking bored all of a sudden, she gave a small salute, something I would learn she did often as a farewell, before walking off in the direction of what I believed was the living room. She swung her hips a little when she walked, and I noticed the faster she went, the more looser she became, and the more still she was, her body would tense up more.

"Wait," I called, wincing at my loud voice and feeling embarrassed.

She stopped, and her shoulder muscles tightened. "Hm?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Why was I always at a loss for words when I was around her? I was quiet around everyone, but I always had a dozen possible responses ready in my head in a matter of seconds. With her, I had to strain myself for just one.

"I thought we could... I dunno, hang out."

I grew up being the girl people always pressed for information. My friends always wanted me to talk more, give more voice or opinion on things. My mother always wanted me to express my feelings more. My sister always used to try and get me to be more outgoing. I was always used to people wanting to be around me because of the need to hear more of what I had to say. It's not an arrogant thing. It's just what I was used to.

Which is why I was mildly caught off guard when Sarah merely shrugged. "Maybe."

I was getting the feeling she didn't care much for me. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she just thought I was another one of Matt's girlfriends, and was only nice because she wanted to know how "this one" played out.

Sometimes it sucks knowing you're good at reading people.

Chapter Three

chapter three: Sarah (How Does It Feel)

Frankly I thought she was just sucking up to me. I can't say I always see the light in people. I see what shows. And what I was seeing was Matt's new girlfriend, waking up before everyone else, and asking the pesky little sister of she wanted to hang out.

Ignoring my annoyance, I just shrugged and said "Maybe."

A look of shocked hurt flashed across her face, and she held that look momentarily before replacing it with one of disappointment. "Do you already have plans?" she pressed.

I actually had no plans at all. Jane, my closest friend, was out with her boyfriend whenever he wasn't committing a petty crime or cheating on her. I tried telling her he was bad news, but she never listened. Everyone else I knew judged me on the spot, thinking I was a spoiled rich kid, so I had no friends -- girls, anyway. I got occasionally asked out by guys, sufficiently. I just chose to decline most of them. I guess I was easy on the eyes, so if I was desperate I could get another boyfriend. But I didn't want one. Not again. Anyway, the point is, I don't have any plans at all this Sunday.

At least I hadn't had to suffer spending a day with any of his girlfriends. Personally, Chelsea was the only one I wouldn't have minded all too much. But she was always making out with Matt, or sleeping with someone else. She never bothered much with me. Didn't push herself to kiss up to Matt's little sister. But other than Isabelle, the rest had just greeted me in the school hallways or bought me things that I could afford myself. Just regular things. They didn't invite me to use my free Sunday as a time to get to know me.

I sighed, and said "No, I don't have plans."

The corner of her mouth twitched, curving up in a half-smile. "Come on, let's go shopping or out to eat. It'll be fun."

I clenched my jaw, and as calmly as possible, slowly stated "Look, you don't need to suck up to me to get Matt to like you. I know the drill. I tell him you're amazing. He believes it. He likes you. Then in a week or two from now the relationship is over, and it happens all over again."

I know it was harsh, but I just didn't want to go around pretending with her and act like we're actual friends.

I half-expected her to freak out, insult me, or cry. You know, something a lot of girls do when someone gets snappy with them. So I was slightly confounded when she smirked, and let out a light chuckle.

"Trust me, I'm not one of those girls. You can tell Matt what you want about me, what you think and if, in your opinion, I'm right for him. You know him better than I do. I just think you seem like a good person to be around. That's all." With another sweet laugh, she added, "So will you go?"

I didn't know what to say to that, or whether to believe her or not. I had noticed right from the beginning she was different from the rest, but not this different. Who wanted to actually befriends with the annoying little sister?

"Fine," I said, willing to give it a shot.

Isabelle grinned a glorious smile, the kind that makes her the center of attention. The type that makes everyone stop and turn their heads, or makes people want to know her or be her or just talk to her. It was the smile that made everyone go nuts. But not me. I didn't even see anything special in her smile at the time.

"Okay, get dressed. I'll get Matt to take us. I'm sure shopping is the last thing he wants to do, so we'll have the day to ourselves," she piped excitedly.

With a small wink, she ushered me towards the hall and up the stairs. Feeling relieved to be out of her clutches, I stalked over to my room and shut the door silently. I banged my head against the door lightly, scolding myself for agreeing to hanging out with Isabelle. Whatever, I can't do anything about it now without coming off as even more rude than I already had. What's the big deal? Only one day. It isn't like it would effect my entire life.

Even though a single minute had already changed me forever.

No, I screamed mentally, letting the single word repeat itself over and over again. I couldn't let my thoughts waver to him. Not when I was in a room with four walls and one window, two stories off the ground. I clutched at the neck of my shirt, feeling as if the collar were tightening its hold on my throat, like a snake winding around and impenetrably grasping my neck, cutting off my air supply.

It seemed like too long when I collapsed to the floor on my knees, gasping for air. I dug my nails into the carpet, squeezing my eyes shut as the despair and fear crawled over me overwhelmingly fast.

Please, I pleaded, just let me go, Rick.

Like flipping a switch, the pain melted away, slipping down the drain. My pulse slowed, my heart no longer racing. Feeling ebbed back into my limbs, and I could breathe normally again.

Dread washed over me as the realization I had been holding back for so long dawned on me.

It's getting worse.

***

I emerged into the kitchen, wearing freshly clean apparel; a loose white button-up and black jeans. Matt and Isabelle were on opposite sides of the island, propped up on their elbows, and in the midst of a passionate kiss until Isabelle broke away, noticing my presence.

"Oh, hey Sarah," she greeted, a smile coming to her flushed lips.

"Hey Slut."

"Is Matt coming too?" I asked, feeling my spirits lighten. At least I wouldn't be forced to engage in a conversation the entire time. Matt could keep her occupied.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

Isabelle gave him that melting smile again. "I invited Sarah for some shopping. You know, girl stuff." She shrugged.

"Mind if I come?"

"Oh, trust me, you don't want to. You're gonna be bored," Isabelle insisted.

It might just be my neurotic self, but I got the nagging feeling she was persuading Matt to not want to come, that she wanted it to be just us."

Kissing her lightly, Matt mumbled something only she could hear, but sounded like him saying he was never bored when he was with her or something. You know, one of those really cheesy but sweet things a guy like Matt says.

Isabelle giggled as she pushed him away, her hand on his chest, her eyes swiftly running over me. "Alright, we need a ride anyway."

Matt grinned over his triumph, and made his way around the island. Slipping his arm around Isabelle's waist, he led us out to the garage. Sulking slightly, I followed them out the front door. Matt had insisted on a non-glamorous car when our parents pressed him about getting a vehicle of his own (and that they would pay for it). So that is the reason, that instead of a Ferrari or BMW sitting in the driveway, he had a plain and simple semi-used Toyota pickup. I was about to climb up into the backseat, when Isabelle stopped me.

"Sit up front with us, I wanna talk," she said politely, smiling sweetly.

Suppressing an exasperated sigh, I followed her around to the other side of the automobile, and threw myself up.

It was a tad awkward sitting in the middle seat between Matt and Isabelle. At first they tried to find a way to hold hands with me sitting there, but when that failed they just retracted their arms as we sat in a stressful silence.

"So. . ." Isabelle began, twirling her fingers. She still wore the white fitted v-neck and jeans I had first seen her in, and her hair looked. . . well sexy. It was morning hair, but rugged looking and wild. "Are you seeing anyone, Sarah?"

Matt chuckled beside me, his eyes firmly glued to the road, as I said "Nope. Still far too innocent.

"Oh, nice."

I shrugged. "Yea, but not everyone sees it that way."

With a small laugh and a faraway look in her eyes, she said something about knowing exactly what I meant. Matt gave her a curious but concerned look at that, but she didn't meet his gaze and he gave up. I didn't have much of a right to ask any questions, so I remained silent for the rest of the drive.

Isabelle ended up directing Matt to the shopping mall in Burlington, and after what felt like hours of searching for parking, we finally found a place about a football field's length away from any entrance. The car died down as he took his key out, and I waited for one of them to exit the vehicle. Isabelle did first, so I followed her out the door. Not realizing I was after her, Isabelle shut the door behind her, and the edge of the car door slammed into my forehead. Immediate surprise and sharp pain attacked, and I saw stars glistening against the backs of my eyelids as I shut my eyes.

"Oh, shit," Isabelle cursed, throwing the door back open and standing on the step so she was right in front of me and at my height. Her nimble hand brushed against my forehead, light as a feather. I cringed away, expecting it to hurt when she touched me, but it felt nice; soothing. "Dammit, Sarah, I'm so sorry."

"What happened?" Matt asked, realizing we weren't following him. He had gone out the door swiftly as soon as Isabelle opened her side door

"I hit your sister in the head with the door. Sorry," she said distractedly to him, still all up in my space. Her face was inches away from mine as she furrowed her eyebrows, examining me. I could smell the aftermath of a perfume she had worn yesterday on her, and her breath was minty as she breathed against my face. Her fingers brushed back my hair so she could see me better, but I wasn't thinking about the pain. I was just thinking about how deep her golden brown eyes were as they scanned rapidly over me. My breath had caught in my throat, and worried for a moment that had happened earlier today was happening again, but only realized I had been breath taken by the illuminant portrait of those eyes. Pulled her hand away from my head, she cursed again.

"Shit, it's already turning purple."

"And swelling," Matt commented unhelpfully, leaning over Isabelle's shoulder.

"Oh shush," she scolded. Looking back at me, she said in a low voice, that made the back of my throat tickle, "I really am truly sorry."

Isabelle's hand held the left side of my face, which was unscathed, and lightly caressed my cheek.

I noticed I hadn't said anything, and probably looked like an idiot just sitting there, so I cleared my throat. "I-It's fine. Really, it hardly even hurts."

Disbelieving, Isabelle took my hand and helped me out. "Are you sure?" she asked fretfully.

I tried to give her the most believable smile I could muster up through the blinding pain in my head, and assured her I was indeed fine.

"Good," she said, leaning closer to me again as I kept my balance on the solid ground. "Because I wouldn't want you to suffer in anymore pain." And then she kissed me lightly on the cheek, her lips as soft as silk.

I frowned at her words. "Anymore"?

Did she know about Rick?

Chapter Four

chapter four: Isabelle (Chasing Cars)

I can't believe I did that. I mean it's one thing to hit her in the head, yea, but act like I know her and say I wouldn't want to cause her any more pain? Dammit, it's not even any of my business. I can see from the way their family acts that her parents and Matt are oblivious to the masked something Sarah was cowering in. But I saw it. It wasn't a bunch of little things that added up to it, but it was just everything she did was overflowing with the pain of the past she was drowning in. But just because I can read people like a book and I was doing that unintentionally with her, doesn't mean I can catch her on it and do something.

I don't have the right.

I refused plenty of Matt's offers for purchasing me items worth more than my house throughout the day. I bought my own things; a few tops, a pair of jeans and some heels.

At lunch, around one, I was fretting over Sarah nonstop about he enlarging purple bump on her head, but she laughed whenever I did, which is why I continued to. Her laugh was contagious and like a breath of fresh air. We didn't go anywhere special for the meal, just a small little smoothie place where we got -- of course -- smoothies. I guess I wouldn't even call it lunch.

My jaw almost dropped when Sarah had come out of the dressing rooms in a strapless, black cocktail dress that hugged her small frame tightly, and pressed her breasts together, making them seem an entire size bigger. I remember averting my gaze from her body, and instead keeping my attention on Matt saying something about "over his dead body" was she ever going to buy that dress, much less wear it in public. I snickered at their little quarrel, feeling a pang of longing for my own sister.

But I'd never again have the same kind of relationship with her, that Matt does with Sarah.

I swallowed my regrets, and nodded in agreement with what Matt said. Yes, she looked smoking hot in the dress, but I didn't want someone else having the same reaction as I did and acting upon it.

I mentally slapped myself for having these thoughts.

Sarah capitulated to the argument, rolling her eyes with a light smile, and retreated back into the changing room, disappearing behind the red curtain. Matt held my hand as he sat down in the chair next to me. I had tried on everything on this store I had liked, but it was Sarah's favorite, so she had found multiple items; all of which I thought were unattractive, but she made them look supermodel-worthy.

"You know you're beautiful, right?" he whispered into my ear, dragging me out of my thoughts of his sister.

I giggled, and then scolded myself for being like one of those bubbly girls.

"You know you're too sweet, right?" I replied, wiggling my eyebrows.

He kissed me intensely just then, digging his right hand into my hair. My lips tingles and butterflies flapped madly in my stomach. I got a deep rush from a kiss that lasted barely five seconds.

The rest of the day shopping went pretty well. Sarah spent a fortune on ten bags-worth of clothing, Matt won the battle of buying me a gift, but I was able to kick it down from diamond earrings to a Stirling Silver Butterfly pendant. Matt didn't get much for himself, other than a shirt or two Sarah insisted looked fabulous on him, which I agreed with.

But even putting aside all of the purchased item, the day still wasn't a waste. I found, to my surprise, Sarah warming up to me. She smiled at me often, talked to me first, asked for my opinion, and all that. She even hugged me. I can't remember why, because all I had been thinking was how close she was to me.

When it got around to being six in the afternoon after hours of shopping and anything else we found amusing, Matt let out an exhausted sigh. "Well, I think I'm gonna head home. You want a ride home?" He was looking at Sarah. I guess family comes first.

She looked for a moment as if she were going to agree, but I saw an idea flash through her eyes, and she declined. "Nah, I think I'm gonna go to the The Cheesecake Factory. I'm starved. Don't worry, I'll take a cab. I have money. And I have my pepper spray," she added at his concerned, worried look.

"Okay. Isabelle, are you going home, or do you want to stay over again?"

I bit my lower lip, pondering my options. On any other occasion, I'd only have the two Matt offered me. Well, the only rational reasons. But yet. . .

"Um, I think I'm gonna go with Sarah. If that's okay with you, of course," I said, looking away from Matt and at Sarah.

Matt was taken aback, and I knew immediately his past girlfriends had never attempted at bonding with his little sisters. I enjoyed being different than them. Apart from the choice in wardrobe-type difference, I mean.

I saw something flicker across Sarah's face, and whether it was excitement or disappointment, I couldn't tell. But if it was the second option, you would guess it because in a thrilled voice, she said "That'd be great. I hate eating alone anyway. I feel like one of those old lonely women that bring a book to dinner and is pitied by everyone."

I laughed as Matt shrugged, and leaned towards me. I was caught off guard a little by him, but just melted into the kiss anyway. His arms snaked around my back, one hand falling down slowly, until I felt it holding my ass.

What the hell?

"Um, Matt?" I mumbled into his mouth, squirming away. "Your hand is a little low."

Matt frowned, as if I were crazy (for not wanting him to feel me up in front of his sister), but then I felt his other hand, that had been resting somewhere in the middle, slide up towards my neck.

And then he yelled at Sarah to stop messing around, and it was then that I realized it had been her who held my ass, trying to get Matt yelled at. My cheeks burned beet red at the thought, and suddenly wished Matt wasn't leaving me. Could I trust myself around her?

Matt gave Sarah a one-armed hug before saying his goodbyes, kissing me on the cheek and heading off into the parking lot. I knew it'd be a while before he reached his car.

"You coming?"

I turned around to see Sarah standing a few meters away from me, heading in the direction of the restaurants.

I gulped, hating myself for how much my heart raced when I looked at her. But what I despised even more was it was the same rushing feeling I got when I looked at Matt.

***

"You come here often?" I asked her as the waitress left after taking our drink orders. The Cheesecake Factory was impressive with it's high, arched ceilings and intricately designed patterns. The waiters wore dressed very formally with clean aprons, unlike most restaurants where they had food stains, messy hair and pens behind their ear. I felt under-dressed in my casual attire.

Sarah sat across from me at our booth, and they must have paid a fortune for the lights, because somehow it made her look excruciatingly beautiful. Not that she wasn't before, but somehow, the way the light hit her at that perfect angle, it was nearly impossible to say anything.

Sarah nodded. "Yea, I do. It's my favorite restaurant. And, as their title briefly mentions, their cheesecake is to die for."

I smiled at her goofy, dream grin. She was adorable when she talked all adult-like, instead of saying 'like' every other word, as most girls her age I know do.

"I'm sure it is."

The waitress came back, handing me my coke, and Sarah her ice tea. The waitress was pretty, with her gleaming auburn hair and sharp bone structure. But a little too creepily thin for my taste, as if she were anorexic. I suddenly felt bad I was categorizing her based on this, as if trying to decide if she were my type or--

What the fuck are you doing? I broke myself off, and dug my nails into the palm of my hand until I looked away from the girl, who's name I recall was Emily.

"Are you two ready to order?" she asked in a monotone.

Sarah asked for a Filet Mignon, which I think was just fancy words for a tender steak. Distracted and flustered by my inappropriate thoughts, I asked for the first thing that I saw as I opened the menu, which was a French Onion soup.

"You alright?" Sarah asked me, after Emily scurried away.

I opened my mouth to reply, maybe say I was great or something, and change the subject by asking her something about her. Maybe something personal, or possibly casual. I was going to do that, when an all-too-familiar voice called my name accusingly.

Oh no. Oh please fucking no. Not now. Please.

Sarah frowned as she peered around me, looking for the person that shouted my name. Within a few seconds, a girl half a foot shorter than me when I was standing, flaring, short auburn hair and a slim build stopped at our table. She was wearing a waitress's uniform, identical to the one Emily bore.

"Sam," I said, breathless. I wasn't taken away or anything, or swept off my feet. Frankly it was the opposite because my blood rushing through my veins was now boiling with rage and worry.

"Why didn't you call me back? And who the fuck is she?" Sam exclaimed, gesturing a delicate hand to Sarah. For someone so small, she really had a lot of power in her.

"This is Sarah," I said, trying to keep my calm.

With a sarcastic glint to her, she cocks her head and says, much to my mortification, "Oh, and are you sleeping with her too?"

I felt as if she slapped me. She was way out of line, and exaggerating. "I never slept with you," I hissed under my breath, unable to believe this was happening. "Sam, can we please do this later? Not. Now."

I slowly realized we were catching people's attention. Her comment about me sleeping with Sarah definitely attracted many, and her voice was escalating. Plenty of the staff were eyeing Sam like she was insane, but also with a mixture of pity. Maybe Sam had told them about me. But if she kept this up, no doubt she'd be fired.

Leaning in so she was less than a foot away from my face, she practically yelled "I tried to do this with you in private, but you've practically been incognito. I haven't seen you for weeks."

Her voice was escalating ever so slowly, and my cheeks burned the more people turned to watch. I had to wrap this up, somehow.

"Sam, I'm sorry I hurt you, but we're done, okay? I've moved on, and. . . I'm not like you anymore. I tried to whisper so Sarah would hear me, but it was a failed attempt because I could see the surprise on her face as her eyes bulged.

"I miss you, Isabelle. Please," she pleaded.

Feeling like a selfish bitch, I took out my wallet, grabbed a fifty, and dropped it on the table. I slid out of the booth, walked around a distraught Sam, grabbed Sarah's hand, and got out of there as fast as I could.

I can't believe my ex-girlfriend just did that.

Five
chapter five: Sarah (Trouble Is A Friend)

I kept glancing over my shoulder to see if that girl -- Sam, I think? -- was following in pursuit. But she wasn't, and all I saw was dozens of heads turned towards Isabelle and I, who was dragging me out of the restaurant. Just before she tightened her deathly grip on my wrist and swept me out the door, I saw someone stalk up to the girl Sam and start shouting, making plenty of hand movements.

A wave of pity washed over me, but then we were out in the chilling, autumn air, our feet pounding hard on the pavement. I yelled Isabelle's name a few times, trying to get her to stop, but she had a good hold of me. Eventually, when we were both gasping for air and a good distance away from the restaurant, Isabelle stopped and doubled over on her knees, gulping in lungfuls of air.

"What the hell," I said between intakes of breath, "just happened?"

Her eyes told me an entire story with confusion as the main element. Tears had started to well up in her eyes, and now she wiped them away.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," she whispered after we both calmed down.

I walked away from her in the opposite direction, and collapsed onto a bench. It was dark now, and the glistening stars were sprinkled across the midnight-blue sky, smiling down on us. The moon was full, and cast rays of lights on us.

"Are you going to answer my question?"

Isabelle sat beside me, careful as to not be too close. She clasped her fingers together, staring hard at the ground. Just when I thought she was going to speak, she buried her face in her hands. I heard quiet sobbing escape through her fingers like sand.

"That was Sam," she began.

"I gathered that much," I snapped sarcastically, more harshly than intended. Why did she always bring out the worst side on me? Whenever I was with her I always found myself acting bitchy and rude. I hated her for having to deal with that.

"She's my. . ." her voice trailed off.

"Your what?"

She remained silent, looking away from me. Sparkling tears were trailing down her cheek, I could see, and as if sensing me noticing them, she flicked them away. Isabelle ran her fingers through her hair, and her body was quivering. I wanted to comfort her somehow, hug her maybe, just do something. But this was out of my department. I don't know what to do during these kind of situations. But even through the temptation to wrap my arms around her (or something), a nagging thought told me not to, that maybe she might take it the wrong way.

Her voice was stuffy from the crying as she said "She's my ex."

I struggled to understand what she was saying, what she was implying here. No, that's not possible. She's dating Matt, my brother. A male, sperm-producing, wonderful person. So how could she be. . . ?

"So. . . does this mean. . . you're like. . . you know. . ." I stammered, clenching my jaw.

Now she finally met my gaze, and she was freaking out. "No! I mean, not anymore. I used to be, but now I'm just. . . not." She shrugged helplessly. "It's simple. . . and complicated at the same time."

Now I ran my hand through my hair, trying to absorb what she was saying. How could you be in to girls, and then just. . . not? I couldn't imagine not feeling anything for boys romantically, because I have before. So how could those feelings just shut down?

I groped for the words to form the question originating in my head. "Does Matt know?"

She shook her head roughly, looking at me as if I suggested moving in with a rapist or kidnapper. "No, he doesn't, and he can't ever know. Please, Sarah, don't tell him. There's no point because like I said, that's not me anymore. He wouldn't understand and it'd just be a burden for him."

So she was dating Matt, my brother, and he didn't even know? Aren't you supposed to get to know each other when you're together, and everything about each other? Or maybe that's just marriage, and relationships are allowed to be built on nothing but lies.

Instead of voicing these thoughts, I continued with questions. "Does anyone know?"

Again, she shook her head. "Other than Sam, and now you, no."

"I don't. . . understand."

"I know, and I'm not asking you to. Just please, please, don't tell anyone. Especially Matt."

"You want me to lie to him?"

"Sarah, please, if you like me at all, don't tell him."

How could she ask me to not tell him? My brother, the one person I tell everything? There's not a single thing in my life he doesn't know about.

Great, first I lied to him, and now I am to myself, I thought bitterly, the one secret I had ever kept from him resurfacing and clouding my eyes. For a moment, I couldn't breathe again, as if the snake were back with winding around my neck, squashing my esophagus. I was afraid of falling to the ground in front of Isabelle as I struggled to breathe. My entire upper body ached with the effort, and I was thankful Isabelle wasn't seeing me lose myself -- again.

And then air flowed smoothly in and out, and I could breathe.

Isabelle gave me a funny look at me gasping, as if I had run that same distance again, but she said nothing.

"Okay." I sighed in defeat. "I won't tell him.

***

Can I just say I really hate Monday's? Actually, scratch that, I hate any day we have school. The teachers think I'm spoiled, and the kids think I'm stuck-up. And none of them have ever even said more than a few words to me. Whatever, I don't even need friends. I'd be fine without Jane at all. Mind you, she's wonderful and I love her to death, but I'm saying I can live without people. Cause some people suck and they're what hurt you the most.

Like how Rick hurt me.

I shut out my chaotic thoughts throughout the day. Classes were boring, as usual. Teachers blabbed about global warming, math equations, wars fought by people no one knows or needs to hundreds of years ago, and anything else uninteresting. I was yelled at for petty things like going to the bathroom without asking or being late for lunch.

I never understood why I was in a public school if we could afford a private one. At least there people wouldn't shove me around for having wealthy parents. But whatever, public school is decent and I don't need a private one. I'd be able to manage with this one.

Jane was late to school, as in she came sometime after lunch, and was hungover. Huge sunglasses rested on the bridge of her nose, her breathe stank of stale vodka and toothpaste. Her words were slightly slurred, but still decent enough for teachers to buy that she's an innocent little sober girl.

"Hey girl," she greeted me a little to enthusiastically.

Snickering, I replied, "Marcus take you to a party last night?"

"Mmhhmmm."

Sighing, I said "Whatever, let's get you cleaned up. You look like living shit."

Taking her by the hand, I led her away from my locker. People shoved us aside, mainly because of me, but I was used to it, and wove around them. We rounded a corner, and I dragged a stumbling Jane into the girls' bathroom. I checked under the stalls for feet, but fortunately, the restroom was deserted. I took her to the sinks, and turned on the faucets.

"What the hell is in your hair?" I asked. Some black grease was splattered and sunk in her hair, making her red hair seem auburn.

"Uuhhmm, I think it's motor oil?" she said in a questioning tone.

"Put your head back," I ordered, and she responded as I'd hoped. I ran my fingers through her hair, rinsing out as much of the grease as I could. Since there was nothing else to use, I squeezed some of the hand soap into my hair and massaged it into her long mane of fiery hair.

After an entire period, I finally managed to make her hair seem at least presentable for the time being. I led Jane to her second to last class, before jogging off to mine. Jane had math, which I knew would be killer for her in her state, but I was disappointed when I had Chemistry. Not only was it the most difficult class, but the teacher, Ms. Figgins, was a total bitch and made it her duty to make, not just mine, but every single students' life miserable.

Once it came to a close, however, I was glad it was my last period, and my favorite one at that: English. Basically it was so amazing because this was where the teacher didn't admonish me every other minute and give me an F for using too little big words.

I took my usual seat next to this sandy-haired guy, who I think was the point guard for the basketball team, but I wasn't sure. I don't even know his name.

Thankfully I was on time for this class.

I scribbled notes in my notebook, actually giving my full on attention. I was a bit grateful when it ended, because my hand was sore and my head ached. The bell rung out, ringing in my ears far after it ended as I gathered my things. I left to go for the buses (I told my mom I wasn't going to take a limo anymore after it got egged) and I was just walking out the doors when a hand lightly grabbed my wrist.

"Who the--" I began, ready to get hit in the face or something. I was caught off guard when I realized it was the sandy-haired boy from English. "Oh. . . uh hey."

He smiled confidently. "Hey Sarah. So listen, I was wondering if you wanted to go see a movie this Friday?"

I was taken aback by his forwardness, and instead of a yes or no answer, what tumbled out of my mouth was a dumbfounded voice saying "What's your name again?" I think I just said it to buy myself time, because I'm not a big fan of dating practical strangers.

Clearly embarrassed, he mumbled, "David."

"Right, I knew that. Um, well actually --" I was cut off once again, but not by him. Instead it was by a female, older voice that had somehow gotten very familiar over the past day or two.

"Sarah! Hey, I was looking for you," Isabelle said, out of breath as she jogged up to where I stood with David. "Who's this?"

"This is David," I introduced, gesturing to him. Then I turned to him and away from Isabelle, giving her a look asking if I could have minute. "Anyway, what I was saying is I'm flattered, but I'm not interested in seeing anyone right now. Sorry."

I was a bit glad I had denied him, because as soon as I finished speaking and the words dawned on him, a look of pure anger attacked his features. David snarled "Whatever, you're probably a dyke anyway. Later, lesbian."

Gaping in disbelief, I just stood there like a statue, while Isabelle cackled beside me. "Why are you laughing?"

Trying to suppress her sudden outburst, she joked "He got the wrong person. 'Cause you know. . . I'm like. . . yea and you're not." When I didn't laugh and continued to stare at her confusingly, she assured "Not that I still am, of course. Like I said last night, I'm not. Oh never mind."

But truthfully, when she was continuing to blab on in trying to fix her joke, I hadn't been thinking how weird she is or awkward it was that she was talking about it with me right then and there. I was mesmerized because she looked way too cute when she excessively talked. That's normal to think, right?

Six
chapter six: Isabelle (White Horse)

You have to admit that whole thing with that David guy was pretty hilarious. I mean, he gets shot down so he immediately assumes the girl's gay? Unless I'm mistaken, Sarah so isn't gay. Just because she hasn't had a boyfriend or her first kiss, doesn't mean she plays for the other team. Whatever, I have this feeling in my gut when someone is like that, and I didn't get that vibe from her. It surprised me how much this realization disappointed me.

After David stalked off fuming, Sarah was silent for a while, just staring off into the upper right hand corner of her vision, which I knew meant she was deep in a memory of some sort.

"Sarah?" I asked tentatively, realizing that this wasn't as amusing to her as it had been to me. Unsure whether or not it was okay, I deliberately laid my hand on her shoulder, and gave a comforting squeeze. "Are you okay?"

Shaking my hand off, she nodded. "Fine. What do you want?"

I was getting used to her abrupt and rude words, even though I'd only know her for such a short time. Plus Matt had warned me about her, but assured me she meant well and was sweet deep down. I had laughed when he said it was pretty deep, though.

I'm pretty sure I failed a test today. I don't even remember what subject it was; that's how distracted I had been. I couldn't get Sarah's face out of my head. I had seen her briefly during the day in the hall after lunch, and waved, but she hadn't seen me and ushered some red headed girl in the opposite direction. I saw Matt plenty, and my heart skipped numerous beats when I did. Don't even ask what it did when he kissed me. But when I had scrawled my name on that sheet of paper, and looked at question one, it wasn't him who had my stomach in knots. It was his sister.

I indicated my car, which was pulled up on the curb away from the yellow buses. "I was gonna go to this music store, get some CD's. Wanna come?"

She gave me a sly look, sort of a half glare. I thought she was going to say some snide comment or something sassy, you know, a Sarah thing. But of course, she continued to surprise me, and nodded.

I put my arm around her shoulders, giving her a quick glance to make sure it was okay, but she didn't show any sign of objection. I rubbed her shoulder softly as I led her over to my forest-green, old jeep. I opened the passenger door for her, and she slid in soundlessly. Neither of us spoke on the way to Record's Reason, the music store. I opened my mouth a few times, but nothing came out. I had no idea what was running through her head, but the tension in the air was thick enough to slice cleanly with a knife.

I pulled the car into an empty space as close to the entrance as I could find, which was really only about ten yards. I was taken a little by surprise by Sarah when she slipped her hand into mine, her long fingers entwining. Her skin was soft and warm. It was only for a few seconds, because she pulled it away when we stepped inside, but it was still enough. She felt at ease around me. She knew I was different.

"What kind of music do you listen to?" she asked me, following me down the aisles.

Thankful she was speaking again, I smiled at her. I stopped at the soft rock section, flipping through old music. I liked having CDs. Not just buying songs off iTunes or something. No, I liked to collect them and add more and more to the growing shelves in my room. "I'm pretty open-minded when it comes to music."

She nodded understandingly.

"Look around, I'm probably not going to be much entertainment right now," I said with a laugh.

Shrugging, she walked off, leaving me alone with my infinite rows of albums.

After an hour or so, we were close together in our search. I had snatched a basket from up front, and it was now filled with a dozen different albums. I had my favorite artists in there, and a lot of them were on sale because they'd been in the clearance. People just don't have good taste in music anymore.

"Hello?"

I looked up to see Sarah on the phone. She was on the opposite side of the shelf of me, but I could still see her. She wasn't looking at me, and I'm not sure she even knew I was there. She looked to both sides down her row, making sure it was empty -- which it was -- before hissing into the phone, with an overwhelming amount of anger and pain, "Leave me alone."

I couldn't hear the other line, and I felt bad about eavesdropping.

"Rick, if you ever call me again, I swear to God, I'll make sure you rot in prison for the rest of your life." There was a sense of confidence mixed in with her terror, but it was all wiped away, skinned down to the core of misery as she whispered one more word. "Please."

She clutched onto the phone, her knuckles white, as if it were the one thing keeping her from falling apart into a million pieces. Her face drained of anymore color that had been left after answering as Rick -- assuming that's the name -- spoke into her ear.

With a helpless, muffled cry of pain, she flipped her phone shut, and collapsed in a heap onto the floor, burying her face in her arms. Now I was sure she didn't know I was there, because Sarah wasn't the kind of person to show any weakness in front of people if she could help it.

Something deep inside me told me that this is what she's been hiding. Or tied to it, at least. What I just witnessed has more meaning to her life and more control than I had anticipated, and it was what was tearing her apart.

"Sarah?" I whispered after I had woven around the shelves and knelt beside her. My hand appeared to have a mind of it's own, and gently stroked Sarah's creamy hair. Her figure quivered as she cried silently, and she fell onto my lap. I was startled by this, but only put my arms around her. She clutched onto my shirt. She was actually clinging to me helplessly, literally on top of me, and sobbing uncontrollably. It was a good thing she was so small and had a delicate frame.

After what felt like hours of people giving me nosy stares and getting my shirt wet with her salty tears, she finally stopped movement, going limp in my arms, and calmed down. Her breathing was evening, her grip loosing.

I didn't know what to say. What do you say to someone as seemingly strong as Sarah when she exchanges a few words over the phone and then breaks down?

"Sarah--"

"Stop. Just. . . don't," she said, her voice as cold as ice.

My mouth was dry, and I found myself actually afraid of her. But I can't let her get away with this. I can't let this just slip up from my memory. I never imagined that the little secret she'd been hiding from everyone was this out of control. I never realized it was catching up with her.

"Sarah. . . who's Rick?"

She was so stiff and flexed in my arms, she was practically a rock. A sexy rock, but still a rock. "I. . . I can't tell you," she mumbled.

"Sarah. . . you can't expect me not to ask this." I brushed a loose lock of hair out of her eyes, and those pearly blue pits stared hard at me in desperation. Whether it was to do what she was asking, and drop it, or to proceed, I don't know. "Who was that on the phone?"

I heard her whisper something resembling a harsh no, and declaring once again she couldn't. "Sarah, Sarah listen to me. Whatever it is you're struggling with, you have to tell someone. I don't care if it's not me, it can be Matt, or--"

"No!" she exclaimed, straightening up so she could see me better. her face was twisted into a look of horror at my idea. "No, no, you can't tell Matt about this. He can't know." Anyone else feeling a sense of deja vu? First me begging her not to tell Matt about my past, and now the tables have turned.

I licked my dry lips, and sighed. I didn't want to be the bad guy here and give her ultimatums, but I didn't have much of a choice. If she didn't let out whatever she was holding in, it would suck the life out of her. "Sarah. . . if you don't tell me. . . right now. . . what that was all about, then I'm going to tell Matt. What I saw, it's more than enough to get him upset."

"You wouldn't do that," she said. Her hands were fiddling with each other, and I noticed she hadn't moved away from me yet. I'm not complaining, really, I can say I enjoyed feeling her this close to me, but Sarah never exactly seemed to be the touch-feely kinda person.

"You wanna bet?" I asked, trying to hint in some amusement.

Of course, Sarah wasn't laughing.

Instead she climbed up and out of my lap, taking me by the hand. I wasn't sure what she was doing or where she was taking me as she pulled me up onto my feet and led me away. At first, we were headed in the direction of the entrance, but then she turned sharply and roughly tugged me into the restroom. Looking as if she had done it thousands of times, Sarah checked that the bathroom was empty. After she was pleased, she stepped up to me, standing so close I thought she was going to kiss me. I moved backwards but was forced to a stop when a cold surface pressed up against my back.

"Anything that I say," she breathed, caging me as she put her arms on either side of me, leaning against the wall. "Anything that I say to you right now, never, ever leaves these walls. You don't get to talk to me about this after we leave, and you don't get to ask me about this in the future." Her voice was cracking and she continuously shifted her weight.

Sarah's breath was ragged and hot against my face. Sweet. Her face leaned in closer, and now I was almost sure she was going to close up that space. I even lightly parted my lips, my heart pounding so hard I was afraid it'd break through my ribcage. But just as I began to close my eyes, she abruptly pushed herself off the wall and spun around, taking long strides to the opposite side of the room.

"A few months ago, this past summer," Sarah croaked at last, "I got asked out by this guy, Rick. He's a year older than me, your age. I knew him, we'd been kind of close over the years. I don't have many friends, but if I had to have picked a guy that I was closest to, it would've been him. He was always flirting with me and just being a guy, you know?" She inhaled shakily. Her hands were gripping for dear life onto the edge of the sink, and she looked like a ghost with her skin so pale and colorless.

"After a while, I got sick of him constantly asking me to go out with him. So I thought, why not? He's a good guy, can be sweet." With a half-hearted chuckle, she added "And hot. Anyway, so I said yes. We went out, and it went great. He was polite, didn't overstep his boundaries, but wasn't boring and overly careful. He kissed me goodnight after dropping me off. We went on a lot more dates after that, started a relationship. The whole deal. We were exclusive, he made sure I knew that, it was him who asked if we were first, not me."

I had a feeling I knew where this was going.

"Um, after we were together for a couple months, I found out from a friend that he was seeing someone else." I was staring at my feet, because I didn't know where else to look. Sarah wouldn't even acknowledge my presence. She might as well be talking to an empty room for all she cared. So when I heard pained laughter, my head shot up. Sarah was nearly doubled over, holding her sides and cackling like a mad man.

"Actually he-he had m-more than just on-one someone e-else," she blurted through her fit of giggles.

It was a while before she calmed down enough to continue speaking. By then, I had at last decided I was being selfish by keeping my distance from her. I half-prepared myself to be punched in the face as I approached Sarah. I stood next to her, leaning against the other sink. She wasn't ready for me to make any physically connection with her yet, to hold her or anything. Even if I was dying to.

"He had been with two girls when he asked me out the first time, and by the time I found out, he was dating three totally different girls. Two of them were sisters. They were fucking sisters.

"Long story short, I went to his house, and told him I knew. Everything. He tried to tell me they meant nothing to him. He even said. . . he said he loved me and asked me not to go, but I said that it didn't matter and we were done.

"I've always known Rick had anger management issues. I knew he took pills for it, but I had never really seen him have an actual episode. And so. . . when i told him we were over, it was the first time I saw him. . . change." Sarah's voice broke on that single word again, and a single, shining tear strolled down on her cheek. "I told him we were over and he lost control."

Now, I finally moved closer to her. I put my arm around her fragile shoulders, rubbing her opposite arm. "Sarah, what happened?"

Looking up at me with glossy eyes and the most miserable and terrified expression anyone can have, she whispered "He tried to kill me." And then she broke down for the second time in my arms.

Well that changes things a bit.

Seven
chapter seven: Sarah (Addicted)

Those eyes. I can see it in his eyes, right now, the pure anger and hatred boiling his blood. I'm standing in a crap of bathroom with rusty mirrors and moldy walls, clinging to a cracked sink, and instead of seeing the supportive girl standing across the room from me, all that congests my vision are ice-cold, twisted blue eyes. The only thing that I can see are his eyes, watching me with disbelief as I confessed everything, telling me I was weak for not being able to keep it to myself, for breaking down like this. Those eyes would be the death of me.

As the words of the most important and controlling events of my life spilled out of my mouth, out there in the open to be seen by anyone, I fell back into those memories. I relived them as I told Isabelle everything. I felt his lips brush against mine for the very first time, the way his hands gently held me in his arms. I could feel his breath flowing down my neck as he came up from behind me when he picked me up from Jane's house, the place I had Matt take me, when really Rick was planned to pick me up. Jane covered for me. The pain and betrayal when I found out what he'd done rose up in me like vomit. The cold, overwhelmingly chilled sensation filling my chest and taking over as his hands curled around my neck, first a gentle grip, as if testing himself on how far he wanted to go, and then ever so slowly, deliberately squeezing harder and harder until my face bulged with the blood being cut off from my brain. I felt him forcing the life out of me. For the very first time, I broke down all of those restraints and anything holding it all back, and I felt it. I felt everything.

I hated myself right then, nearly reaching the eminent level of hatred I aimed at the person that annihilated and shattered my organized mental state and made me afraid of turning around any corner. It was one thing to open up for the first time to a girl I barely knew and made my stomach do flip-flops when I saw her, as if she were actually important to me, but I was literally sobbing in her arms like a big baby. Damn, I really needed to get control of myself. I doubt this is even the least bit attractive. Not that it would matter. 'Cause I don't need to look good for her. I don't want to.

I really have to get over all this lying.

I can't say I know what I snarled at her, but I said something pretty hurtful to Isabelle, pushing myself off of her again. I wiped my wet face with my forearm, trying to control my breathing. I forced my eyes away from the blind hurt on Isabelle's face. What'd I do, call her a bitch?

Beside the sinks, was a cheap wooden bench, that looked like it couldn't hold my weight, but I sat on it anyway. It groaned lightly, but stayed sturdy.

"I'm sorry," I said, finally looking at her. Her once pained look was now a calmer one. As if she was relieved, I guess. Even though there was still plenty of room, I moved over anyway, gesturing for her to sit beside me. Hesitant at first, she slid in beside me. I was a little glad she wasn't giving me as much space as before, and now sat so close our legs were touching.

"What's his last name?" she said, her voice dry.

I turned to look at her, and it was as if she were having the biggest mood swings of her life. Just a second ago she'd been at ease and filled with relief, and now her eyes were shooting darts, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pointing downward in a serious frown. How could she all of a sudden be so infuriated?

"What?"

"What is his last name?" she echoed, more forcefully this time.

It hit me, just then, how much what I told her about Rick pissed her off. She actually. . . cared about me and the idea of Rick throwing me up against a wall in his own house and strangling me made her skin crawl.

"Hey," I said lightly, holding her chin and making her look at me. Isabelle's eyes were hard and cold, flaming with resentment. "You're not going to get involved in this, got it?"

"Sarah," she commenced. "He. . . this ass hole intruded your life, and through a tantrum over something he did, and thought you deserved to stop living because of his mistake. He cheated on you, something I can't even begin to imagine someone doing. You're stubborn and insulting, but. . . that's what makes your personality so alive and electric. You're beautiful and funny and sweet. It's one thing to be with someone else and lie to you but to. . . to actually try and hurt you. . ." her voice trailed off, a small tear leaking from her eye.

"Sarah. . . what is his last name?" she repeated. An ache rose in my chest at the sight of her so torn up because of what I said made me despise myself even more. This was clearly a burden for her, and it had been the worst thing that had ever happened to me in my once-perfect life. What made me think she could handle this?

"If I tell you. . . you're going to do something stupid and get yourself hurt. Forget it," I said, surprising myself when I added a laugh.

Isabelle threw herself off of the bench, pacing back and forth in silence except for the dull squeak her sneakers made on the damp floor. "You think I can just forget something like this?" she hissed, leaning over me. It was the first time she had ever directed anything resembling anger towards me. She'd been nothing but polite and sweet since I've known her, and now she looked at me like I had grown a second head. "I don't give a damn if you tell me or not, I'll find out somehow and when I do I'm going to--"

But the thing is, I didn't hear what she was going to do. Nope, never got the chance. Wanna know why? I bet you do. If I had to guess, it was because I pushed myself up, smashing my lips onto hers and holding her head to mine. Isabelle let out a little gasp of surprise, reflexively pulling herself out of the kiss.

I hurriedly scanned her face, searching for horror or disgust. But all I saw there was surprise and the tiniest hint of bliss.

"Oh my God," I whispered unable to believe the act I just committed.

"What?" she replied under her breath, her eyes sparkling. She was still bent over me, while I was stretching upward. I could smell the minty air in her breath, which had slowed to a more even pace. The tension was too thick to bear, the longing to kiss her again; excruciating.

"I. . . I just, um. . ." I muttered. I couldn't focus on what she was asking me. I couldn't pay attention to anything but the filled, radiant color of her plush lips.

"I know," she murmured, nodding lightly.

And that's when I lost it again. My stomach couldn't bare the twisting strain anymore. The crave for her was unbearable. I just. . . lost it. I closed up the distance between our faces, digging my hands into her hair. This time, she was more prepared, and her soft arms curled around my lower back, pulling me onto my feet and pressing my body against hers. It was like setting fireworks off in my mouth. My lips buzzed with the intense sensation of hers moving simultaneously with mine. I was all too aware of the placement of her hands, incredibly low on my back. I was shocked when I felt my tongue slither between her parted lips, winding around hers and dancing in her mouth.

Isabelle moaned lightly into my mouth, buzzing with lust. Heat spilled through my body, intensifying when she nibbled on my lower lip and sucking my tongue. I mumbled her name weakly when she threw me up against the wall, holding my hands up above my head.

Pulling out of the kiss for a moment, Isabelle never broke eye contact as she lifted my shirt up above my head. The way she looked at me. . . no one had ever gazed at me like that before. No one openly revealed such. . . raw emotion to me, much less those feelings be about and directed towards me. I giggled as she dropped my shirt to the floor, connecting her lips with mine. We were like two puzzle pieces. Her flushed lips were perfectly merging with mine, while her body was all too right against mine. Her silky hands glided up my sides, forcing me even closer to her. This wasn't enough. We weren't close enough. It was like an unspoken message as my hands reached behind her back, also pulling her shirt off over her head. The jolting sensation of so much of our skin rubbing against each other made the room spin. My arms, they were strong, but my knees were far too weak.

"I barely even know you," I intimated quietly, separating our locked lips. "I've known you for two days, and I already told you the biggest thing, the most important thing in my life and now I'm making out with you in some shitty bathroom. I barely even know you, and I told you all of this before anyone else."

"You talk too much," was all she said with a laugh. Seeing the disbelief in my eyes, she sighed. "Look, I know this is different for you and I know you've struggled with so much in the past months. But it's okay. This is okay."

"But. . . I've never done anything like this before," I said, frowning as Isabelle's mouth trailed along my jawline and down my neck, kissing my skin passionately. I forced a moan down my throat.

"I know," she muttered.

"And. . . you said you're not. . . that you don't do this with people like me. . . with girls anymore." Isabelle ignored this, and only pressed me up against the wall harder, compressing against me with dense force. "You said that just last night and now your kissing my neck and I'm about to scream because you're so close to me and I didn't know how much I wanted this until now."

I felt her lips smile, tickling me, and I gigled.

"Sarah," she said, her tone suddenly serious and no longer loose and free. "You're going to hate this but. . . you have to tell someone. The police, your parents, Matt--"

I didn't hear the rest of what she said, because my body seized up and my breath caught in my throat. I couldn't think of anything except one single idea.

Matt.

Matthew Kennedy Wilson.

My brother.

Isabelle's boyfriend.

I'm making out in a shitty bathroom, half-naked, with my brother's girlfriend.

Oh fuck.

Eight
chapter eight: Isabelle (Unfaithful)

Great. Just peachy. I'm a cheater. I am a slutty, insensitive, bisexual, cheater that cheats on her wonderful boyfriend with his sister. Mind you, it never went very far, but still. I cheated on Matt with his sister. What is wrong with me?

After Sarah slithered into her shirt, she had darted out of the bathroom, I was left alone and practically half-naked. I had been undeniably turned on the second her glorious mouth touched mine. Don't even ask how hot I'd been when she pulled my shirt over her head and our damp skin grazed against one another.

It took me a while to leave. I had to splash a dozen handfuls of murky water from the sink on my face and do funky breathing routines before I had the guts to step out through the door. I was half-hoping that Sarah had already left and took a cab or something. Having to drive her home after what could have happened, it would be a nightmare.

And of course, because life never goes as preferred, the minute I walked out of the bathroom, the first thing I noticed was Sarah lurking by the entrance, pacing, and staring at the floor. From what I could see of her nearly perfect face, she was swamped with layers of guilt, not even bothering to hide it. I took a deep breath, willing my legs to move forward. It's just one step. And then another, and another, and just keep doing one step over and over. By the time I was a meter away from Sarah, who had at last noticed me. Her eyes told me one single word, repeating it over and over, but desperately seeking a response.

Why?

"We should get going," I said flatly.

Clenching her jaw, she gave a stern nod, leading the way outside.

It was only five in the afternoon, two hours since Sarah and I got out of school. I wondered vaguely if Matt was fretting over Sarah. She wasn't much of a social fanatic, he'd told me, and didn't go out much. Typically she was home before him, having taken the bus instead of going with him. Truth be told, I had avoided him towards the end of the day and snuck away from his radar to go find Sarah. What kind of person does that?

It's not that big of a deal, I assured myself, hoping to feel any sense of enlightenment. It was just a kiss. It meant nothing. But I didn't get anything. No emotion other than raging guilt. How could I have been so stupid? Mentioning his name when we were making out? Why couldn't I have just let it be and taken it far enough so I'd be forced to end things with him and I could be with her? Except. . . would I be able to live with ruining such a strong and beautiful relationship? Not mine and Matt's. . . but his and Sarah's.

Sarah silently hopped up onto the passenger seat, clipping the seat belt and focusing her gaze forward. She made no movement or acknowledgement of my presence when I slid in beside her, twisting the key in the ignition. She rubbed her temples with her fingers, propping her elbows onto her knees the ride to her house. When we were less than five minutes, she finally spoke.

"I can't do this. We can't do this."

I gave no response, and only watched the speedometer go down as I eased up on the gas, switching to third gear. If she was going to talk, or if I was I might as well buy us some time.

"Isabelle." The sound of my name on her tongue alone sent shivers down my spine, like a cold sweat. How could she make my label sound so harmonic and beautiful in a single breath, when I was just some trashy cheater? "Isabelle," she repeated. "Isabelle. Isabelle. Isabelle. Isabelle."

I stared at her like she had suddenly gone insane, making sure to glance back and forth from her and the road. The last thing either of us needed was to cause a car accident. So I calmly said "Sarah?"

"What?" she looked at me quizzically, as if meeting me for the first time and didn't recognize me.

"You realize you're just saying my name over and over again, right?"

"Oh."

I turned the wheel, pulling onto Main Street. We were just a few blocks away now.

"I can't hurt him," she said quietly into her hands. "He's my brother. He's my best friend. He's. . . he's all I have."

I tightened my grip on the wheel until my knuckles were white. My teeth were clasped together to hard it made my entire jaw ache. I knew what she saying was right, I understood where she was coming from, and if I were her, I'd be doing the same thing. How could I have know her for such a little time, but just knowing what she was about to say hurt me so much?

Yet, I said nothing to prevent her.

I turned around a corner and the next thing I knew I was driving down Sarah's driveway. Neither of us said anything as I pulled the car to a stop, shutting off the engine. Sarah looked at me with pleading eyes before Matt burst out through the front door, about fifty meters or so away from us. He looked as if he'd been worried before, but now was at ease.

"Don't say anything to him," Sarah hissed under her breath, yet in a calm way. "Whatever we had, Isabelle, is over. We mean nothing to each other and I don't need you. I'd be better off without you."

Her words were like wasps, swarming around me and stinging me with more force each time. I bit on my lower lip to keep myself from crying like some wimp, and dully nodded, a movement Matt wouldn't have noticed as he came to a stop outside my car door.

"Hey, I was wondering where the slut was," he greeted with a sweet smile, opening the door for me. Another eye-building wave of guilt swam over me at him being so polite. For a moment I was lost in the intense look in his pearly blue eyes, and all I could think about was how anyone could compare to him. It didn't seem possible I'd be able to see anything in any human soul when I already had him.

Matt's eyes twinkled as he gave Sarah an amused look.

"Isabelle and I just didn't want to be seen with a prude," she shot back, surprising me at how easily she could smirk at him without any trouble. I guess faking smiles was something she'd had to do for a long time.

Draping his arm over my shoulders smoothly, he retorted "Oh come on, you'd be lucky to be seen with such a sexy stud."

I laughed as he nuzzled his face into mine, kissing me with the most passion I thought I was flying. When he pulled away, I found myself pushing back towards him as to not end it. He chuckled at me, but then frowned.

"Did you borrow Sarah's Chap-stick? You taste like pomegranates," he said thoughtfully.

Over his shoulder, Sarah gave me a worried look, drawing an imaginary line across her throat. You know, that gesture people make when they either don't want you to do something, or they're going to kill you if you do something else? Well she was doing that now, with a desperate glint in her beautiful eyes.

Once I pulled out of those mesmerizing pools, I plastered an amused smile and looked back at Matt. "Since when do you know what flavor your sister's Chap-stick is? Hm, maybe you are more in touche with your feminine side than most girls."

"Whatever," he said, showing mock hurt as he turned his face away from me. "So where'd you guys go? You've been gone for hours."

I opened my mouth to speak, but Sarah beat me to it. When she explained about the music store and how much they'd had that I had just loved, I inwardly frowned. Did she not trust me to keep a secret from him? I was the one that didn't know him as well and didn't have such a close relationship with. Shouldn't it be easier for me to lie to him?

But then the idea of lying (technically I hadn't lied yet) to him made my stomach churn, as if I were going to throw up.

"But you didn't buy anything?" he asked, eyeing Sarah's empty hands. Since they were fairly wealthy, Sarah usually bought something whenever they went out. You could say she was a pack-rat, as Matt said.

I remembered the look of horror on her face when she answered the phone and described the tragic events in her past, and the lust in her eyes when we kissed. I guess after those events, neither of us had really been all too interested in the music. I had even left my basket of CDs I was going to purchase on the floor after seeing Sarah on the phone. We didn't buy anything because we were busy cheating her brother and making out.

Sarah quickly recovered from the question, effortlessly lying. "We didn't see anything we liked. Except the cashier was kinda hot."

Matt looked like he was going to have a heart attack right then and there. After a pleading look at me, he glanced at Sarah. Clearly amused, she evenly met his gaze, raising a perfect eyebrow.

"Sarah got asked out today," I said as we stepped through the door and into the house.

As it always did, the house took my breath away with its vast beauty. Maybe a few years ago, I would have said that I'd give anything to be this filthy rich; that if I had one wish, it would be to have all of this wealth so my family could finally move out of our one-loft apartment. But now. . . no, I'd use that wish for something else. Something that might restore my family's (or what's left of us) happiness and joy. Something that would fill the hole in my life.

I shook off the old regrets, and focused on Matt's petrified face. "She got what?"

Giving me a cold glare, Sarah said "Yea, I did."

Flabbergasted, Matt continued to stare at her in disbelief. I knew Sarah was asked out occasionally, (maybe because I had asked around about her. . .) but I suppose she never exactly shared with her family when she did. I guess she'd only spill the beans if she happened to say yes. With the exception of Rick, of course.

Did I just say "spill the beans"?

What the hell is wrong with me?

"What did you say?" Matt asked, interrupting my thoughts.

I opened my mouth to speak for her, but was once again cut off. Did she always have to take charge and leave me to be silent. Then again, it wasn't exactly any of my business. It was their issue or whatever you want to call it. I had no say or importance in the matter of Sarah's answer to being asked out.

". . .might change my mind and say yes," Sarah concluded with a devious smile on her face. Whether it was to rub it in my face we'd never be anything more than. . . than what? We were allowed to be anything at all? Friends? Acquaintances? Or would I always just be her brother's girlfriend to her?

Being into girls? Yea, it sucks.

Nine
chapter nine: Sarah (Lips of an Angel)

I'm a terrible person. I'm a terrible person. I'm a terrible person.

These words had become a sort of mantra to me. Every time I looked at Matt and fed him another lie about where Isabelle and I had gone and what we did and what we saw, each and every time, I'd repeat it over and over again, continuously. Maybe if I repeated it over and over sufficiently, then it might effect me conscious somehow and I'd tell Matt what really happened. I could tell him the truth. Maybe then I'd feel some sense of consolation and I wouldn't have to be constantly looking behind me, waiting for the truth in my lies to catch up to me. The problem with the truth, though, was it always made everything else seem like a filthy, rotten lie.

I'm a terrible person.

I scarcely trusted myself when Isabelle drove me home. I half expected me to tell her to stop the car and throw myself at her again. I sneaked a few looks at her, and my heart melted. Her lush lips were curved so perfectly, that adorable little nose, straightly pointing out. The firm set to her jaw and the sparkling light in her golden brown eyes were breathtaking. These little things almost caused me to lunge over at her and rip her clothes off.

I hated seeing her kiss Matt like it was nothing. Like I was nothing. Okay, yes, I effortlessly lied my ass off to Matt and was a total bitch to her, but that doesn't mean she has to slobber all over him right in front of me. Did she think it just didn't bother me at all?

But that's beside the point. How can I like her? When I first met her, I didn't even like her at all. I thought she was an annoying suck up and would be thrown out like the rest of them in a week. I knew she was different, yes, but I never thought she'd be the girl Matt would look at the way he did before after a little over a single week. If she was that girl to Matt, the one always on his mind, the one everyone said had him whipped and he happily agreed, the one that made his head spin, if she was that girl for him, why was she so much more to me?

At the moment, I was currently sitting in English, right next to David. He refused to meet my eyes, and ignored me when I greeted him. I frowned a little, wondering if it would be such a good idea to carry my plan out. Would it even work?

"David," I caught him by the arm after the bell rung out, just as he walked out the door. When he saw it was me, his features darkened into a threatening scowl. I thought he was going to shake me off and ignore me, but he just stood there, glaring at me like I killed someone close to him.

"What do you want, dyke?" he snapped, but his voice was low, as if he didn't want anyone else to hear him.

"Can we talk?" I muttered. Might as well get to the point. Don't you just hate it when people stall and blab instead of actually saying what they wanted to say? Just stop being a bitch and say what you wanted to already.

Oh. . . I'm blabbing, aren't I?

Sorry about that.

"About what?" he spat, looking at me like I was a filthy piece of trash, or a bug he scraped off the bottom of his shoe. I might as well be, for the way people treated me at my school.

Taking him by the hand (seductively, of course) I led him to the janitor's closet, shutting it behind us. David was caught off guard, clearly, but I didn't want to make a complete fool of myself in front of everyone if David turned me down. I might now be Little Miss Social, but I don't like being made fun of either, so zip it.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," I said lightly, trying to give my voice that raspy edge that Isabelle's did, which was just damn sexy if you ask me. "I was just caught off guard. Surprised."

A little of the annoyance melted in his eyes, but some still remained. He didn't say a word. Just stood there, inches away and looking down on me with a grim expression.

"Let's just skip the dating, shall we?" I whispered tauntingly, eyeing his mouth. It was actually surprisingly tempting to kiss him. More of a lust kind of thing. By now, I was about 90% of the way in, and so I just stood there, up on my toes, waiting for him to fill the gap. When he did, I shut my eyes tightly. Somehow, I didn't want to see that it was him. I wanted him to be someone else. Play a fantasy in my head and work hard to convince myself this really is who I'd rather be making out with in a closet.

His hands, which were actually quite soft, scanned the sides of my body, running along my waist. David tugged my close to him roughly, practically grinding my hip against his as if we were dancing. His tongue lolled around in my mouth, and he hungrily kissed me with plenty of force, his lips commanding control. Really I was only standing there with my arms around his neck. He was doing all the work with feeling me up nibbling on my lower lip.

I was just starting to get turned on when I could actually imagine this was Isabelle, when the door to the closet burst open, a giggling couple ushering in. They didn't even notice us, they were so absorbed in each other, but I broke their haze. I recognized them.

You have got to be shitting me.

"Matt?" I exclaimed in a low voice, tugging away from David''s grasp. I noticed his hand was on the inside of my shirt, just centimeters away from second base. The bare skin of my muscled stomach was showing, and I felt odd standing in front of my brother and -- wait for it (pause for effect) -- Isabelle.

Matt automatically pulled away from Isabelle, untangling her limbs from around him and lunged for David, who let out a little yelp of surprise. Matt shoved him up against the wall, balling his hands into fists around David's collar. David was a little scrawny, not as well built as a junior like Matt, but still strong enough. He struggled in his grasp, and almost escaped, but Matt tightened his grip on David, and hissed in his face "Don't ever touch my sister again, got it jackass?"

"Matt!" I shrieked in disbelief. I was mortified. Matt had always been the cool brother, like a best friend. Not the type to beat up a guy I was making out with. Then again, from the way my voice had sounded before -- desperate and miserable -- I can see how it might have looked. "Matt!" I yelled again, scrabbling my arms on his shoulder, trying to get him off David. "This is David, the guy I told you about," I said once I had succeeded with the help of Isabelle.

I wouldn't meet her eyes, and knew my cheeks were flaming beet red. All I had wanted was a few moments without her in my head, and she had managed to make me want David to be her, and burst in so she and Matt can battle each others' tongues. Gross. The idea of Matt's hands all over her made me vomit in my mouth and my stomach feel sick, but at the same time I knew it was right. He was supposed to be with her.

But that still didn't stop me from "accidentally" grazing my fingers along her skin as I let go of Matt. It felt like someone lit a match on my fingertips.

I saw Isabelle shiver from the corner of my eyes as I punched Matt on the chest. "What is your problem?" I screeched at him, while he burst out into a fit of laughter. "Stop laughing!"

Grinning from ear to ear, and giving Isabelle an apologetic look, he shook a ruffled-looking David's hand, who eyed Matt wearily. But he shook his hand anyway. I guess he had only been interested in "getting some" and not having to face the big brother. I was thankful he forced a smile anyway. If I wanted to use him to smother whatever it was I felt for Isabelle, Matt had to approve.

"Sorry man, just be good to her, got it?" Matt said, his voice lightening up and less furious.

David nodded, still careful, but said, "Yea, I know."

***

The weeks dragged on. David and I came out as an actual couple, and we reached the amount of dates and agreement where we could actually call each other boyfriend and girlfriend. He had his moments where he blew up, and I have to admit, it scared me. I was worried I was seeing another Rick, but he eased up, and I realized it was just a barrier.

Deep down, he really was a pretty decent guy. He held doors open for me, but let it go late and it would clink against my back, shooting me inside. David was the kind of guy that gave me his sweater when it was cold, but it would smell bad and be thin. He was kind-hearted and great, his intentions were true, but he just wasn't the best at showing them. All in all, he wasn't perfect. And I'm not asking him to be.

I just need him to be better than her.

I introduced him to my parents, who's approval I had been accepting and received. I think they were just glad I had finally dated a guy. That they knew about, anyway. Matt had been with Isabelle at the house at the time, and she gave me a funny look when my mom said something about being excited for me having my first boyfriend. David merely chucked into my hair, with his arm around me.

David was a pure gentleman, nothing like when I had first encountered with him. He had dinner with us, and answered all my parent's questions (plenty embarrassing ones) perfectly, much to my parents' liking. He squeezed my hand a few times under the table, not getting to touchy-feely during the meal.

I should have been focused on him. Maybe pay more attention to his sweet compliments. I wish I was more inclined to lean closer to him and feel him against me.

But no.

I just had to touch Isabelle's leg, and meet her eyes. I just had to want to feel her entire body against me, without such a petty nuisance known as apparel. It was just completely necessary for my mind to be lingering on what she looked like up close, when I was kissing her.

Damn, David really isn't a good guy to use to get over someone. 'Cause it's not working.

Ten
chapter ten: Isabelle (Miserable at Best)

What the fuck is she doing? I screamed mentally as I felt a feathery hand glide along my thigh, giving a gentle squeeze. I felt the root of me heat up, as if set on fire, and nervously looked up at Sarah. Her pale blue eyes, almost identical to Matt's, were rimmed with an ultra-thin layer of eyeliner, complete with naturally long, curvy eyelashes. The way she gazed at me was so intense, I didn't even realize I was holding my breath until she swiped her hand away and focused instead on David, who I noticed squeezed her hand.

Envy boiled my veins, pumping my bloodstream. Why is it that Sarah is allowed to taunt me like that and literally make me want to throw her on the table and rip her clothes off with my teeth, but David's the one that can touch her back? Why can't I do that to her?

Grinding my teeth, I chased a pea around my plate with my fork, not really even trying to snatch it. I think Matt noticed something was up, because I felt his strong hand lightly rest on my shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze and caressing my skin. "You okay?" he whispered.

I automatically felt a warm feeling spread through me, canceling out the jealous rage. I hate how he made me feel this way. . . all warm and fuzzy. Cliche, I know, but hey, it fits the scenario. But what I hate more is, if she wants to, Sarah can give me the exact same feeling.

How is it that I can feel myself falling for the both of them? Is it because their siblings so their genetically similar? But. . . despite their obvious relations, they were so different. I mean, yea other than the gender issue. While Matt was naturally confident, part of the "in" crowd, and sickeningly sweet, Sarah was struggling to come off as strong and presentable, but was withering away in front of all of us, and was too stubborn to tell anyone. I wanted to help her, I really do, but how am I supposed to do that when one second she's sticking her tongue in my mouth and the next she's giving me the cold shoulder?

I was thankful it was finally Friday. I don't think I could stand seeing David and Sarah being all mushy in the halls another day. Like seriously, get a room.

David fortunately left after the dinner, but not after letting me witness a rather touching (more like revolting) scene with David pressing her against the wall and kissing her neck in a more shadowed area of the house. But despite the darkness, I could still make out a look of longing in her eyes, imagination swiping her face. She was clearly not as in to making out right then as David, but something told me I'd cleared my throat as I walked past them, smiling to myself when I heard David mutter a goodbye before retreating out the doorway. I felt Sarah glare into my back, but I couldn't ignore the nagging feeling it was just a front.

"Do you really have to go?" Matt whined playfully as I slipped on my shoes. I could feel Sarah watching from the shadows, but I couldn't see her. I figured if I meant anything to her, then I know that it must hurt her at least a little to see me with Matt. So that's why I was leaving, and when Matt leaned in to kiss me goodnight, no matter how much I didn't want to, I turned away, and his lips settled on my cheek. He acted as if he didn't notice this small movement, but I could tell he was hurt.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, then?" he asked, resting his forehead against mine.

Shit, I forgot. Matt invited me to spend the night with him at his place and watch a bunch of a movies or something. No matter how tempting the idea of being alone with Matt was, I still couldn't help but blurt "Is Sarah going to be there?" Whether it was a hint of hope or dread in my voice, I couldn't even tell.

"No idea. Probably. But you guys are friends though, right?"

I couldn't help but steal a glance towards where Sarah was hiding. No point in making her think I didn't know she was there. It might have just been my freaky imagination, but I could have sworn when I looked at where she was, I heard a sharp intake of breath.

"Yea, totally," I said flatly, my eyes still locked on where Sarah was. "Um, I gotta go. Bye."

Without even a second look back, I jogged down the porch steps and up to my Jeep, sitting peacefully in the paved driveway. I didn't want to go home, but I couldn't stand another second around Sarah. She was sending me mixed signals and pushing me through hoops, and I'm not in the mood for games. I get it, it's not fair for Matt at all and it kills me to do this because of a stupid crush on his sister, but I don't have much of a choice until I figure out what I'm going to do.

It's just. . . she's so great. Her laugh makes me feel like I died and got shot up to heaven; it's just so contagious. That ecstatic smile dazzles me and I can't do anything but stare with a goofy grin on my face like an idiot until she looks away. I hold my breath when she looks at me, even if it's just a small, insignificant or accidental glance. She's hilariously sexy when I walk passed her room with her music blasting, the door slightly ajar and I can see her dancing like a tone-deaf groupie. I forget everything when I see her, and I can't help but admit I love the feeling of it seeming like it's only me and her.

It was all too soon that I pulled into the apartment building parking lot. I shut off the engine in front of a cheap basketball net. The backboard was crooked, hanging off only two nails, and the net was torn so much it just looked like a shredded rag. Locking the car and hiding any valuables under the seat, I got out and stalked up the stairs to the top floor. It took a lot of rattling and fidgeting with my rusty key, but I managed to get the door open with a shrill shriek from the hinges.

"Izzy, is that you?" a raspy voice (due to too many years of smoking) called from the living room.

I dropped my bag onto the chair outside my room that I shared with my little brother, Nathan, and put my keys on the hook. From where I stood, in the dim glow from the moon shining through the windows, I could see a monumental pile of dishes in the sink, with a hint of mold growing on some old plates. I could smell old cigarettes and stale beer like a tarp wrapped around me.

Emerging into the living room, there was my mother, in the exact same spot I'd left her this morning, with the exact same attire. All of the lights were off, and when I tried the switch it didn't work. I knew better than to think that the power would be out on a clear night. This happened before, a few months ago. And a month before that, and so on.

"When did you get fired?" I asked dully, going back to my bag and rummaging for the energy bar I'd bought. When I found it, I plucked open the bedroom door and tossed it onto Nathan's bed. He's probably at a friend's house, but he'd be hungry tomorrow when he came back.

"A few weeks ago. Do you have any cash? Bills need to be paid. You need to carry your own weight around here, Isabelle. I can't be expected to do everything around here," she nagged. I could tell she was drunk again, and I wasn't in the mood to fight with her. So I just silently grabbed a few hundred dollar pills from my purse that I took out of the bank to buy food for the house, but I guess the rent comes first. I left the money on the table, before slugging back to my room. I was asleep the second my head hit the pillow.

***

The next day, after excessively cleaning up the house and an attempt at preparing a breakfast for Nathan (when I woke up he was sitting on the couch reading and the energy bar wrapper was in the trash). All I could muster up was an egg and some Lays chips. I'd be sure to get him something tomorrow.

Once I was satisfied of the state of the house, at around seven at night, I checked my mom's room. It was at the end of the hall, and I never went inside unless I needed to. I pressed my ear to the door, and I could hear loud snores vibrating the air. My mom only snored when she was still drunk and the alcohol hadn't left her system. Forcing back an irritated insult to throw at her, I strode back down the hall and fell onto the couch next to Nathan.

"Hey bud, what's up?" I asked as cheerfully as I could. Nathan was still twelve and never fully understood anything that went on in our house, or why.

He was reading one of those Harry Potter books, and now looked up. "Is Mom still drunk?"

Okay, he understands some of it.

"She's sleeping."

"Snoring?"

With a sigh, I nodded. I guess I never gave him enough credit. "You know, I'm going to Matt's house in a few minutes. You could come, he wouldn't mind." I ruffled his hair lightly, smiling encouragingly.

"It's okay, I don't want to interrupt your guys' date."

I bit my lip, but pressed on. "No, it's fine, his sister's gonna be there too. Mind you, she's a few years older than you, but what I mean is it's not some big mushy romantic thing."

Okay, a bit of a lie I guess, considering the only movie Matt and I could agree on was The Notebook and I was totally into the only two people in the house with me, but still.

"No, it's okay. I need to look after Mom."

I just stared at him remorsefully, feeling tears come to my eyes. What kind of twelve-year-old is supposed to say that about an adult? He's just a kid. I mean, it's not my mom's fault that she became like this, or my dad. What our family is going through has nothing to do with the father that walked our before Nathan was born. I mean it, it isn't his fault. It's not mine or Nathan's or my mom's. It's just. . . life. The cycle of life. No one could have foreseen the events.

"Just. . . okay but if she starts talking about Sydney, you know you have to leave, right?"

"I know, I know. Izzy, it's okay, I know what to do. I'm not a little kid anymore. You can go on your date. Please, it's fine."

But you are still a little kid. You're still my little brother.

But all I did was nod, and grab my bag as I numbly walked out the door.

***

I knocked lightly on the oak-wood door, stuffing my hands in my pockets as I waited in the cold. I could see my breath in the chilly night, and I cursed at myself for not bringing a jacket It had already started raining, which quickly turned to snow, and already a layer of the white stuff blanketed the ground. It was clear a storm was starting. And it was only freaking mid-October. That's Maine for you. Just as I started shivering, the door swung open, and all I could make out was the silhouette of a tall but slim girl with tight curves and a wavy mane of hair. I recognized her instantly, even though I couldn't see her face.

"Matt! Isabelle's here!" Sarah shouted up the stairs, spinning on her heel and walking back from where she had come. Rushing inside, I shut the door behind me and followed Sarah into the kitchen.

"Hey," I greeted casually, trying not to sound like the girl that had literally had a dream of sleeping with her last night and was obsessing over her nearly ever second of every day. Not as easy as you might think.

Sarah only gave me an annoyed but desperate look before grabbing a bottled water from the fridge and leaving the room. I guess her touching my leg was just a fluke.

Strong arms wrapped around my waist, and I let out a little scream of surprise. Chuckling, Matt spun me around, holding me close to him. I let out a little protest as he took charge and held me in my arms, hitting him on the chest, but he shut me up when his lips collapsed onto mine. His mouth was a minty cinnamon, like the toothpaste he used, and I could smell the shampoo in his hair. I don't know what it was, but something about the way he took control like that made me throw my arms around his neck, pressing myself harder against him. He was just too cute. And that beautiful, amazing kiss was too short.

I pouted at him, but he kissed me on the cheek with a big smile. "You're late."

Taking hold of his hand and leading him to his living room, I threw an apologetic look over my shoulder. "I know, I'm sorry. Got caught up in traffic. Forgive me?"

"'Course," he said as I pulled him down onto the couch. Lightly hitting away my hands, he got back up and said something about getting popcorn ready. He told me to turn on the TV and that the movie was already set, so I did as he asked and whattya know, the menu screen for The Notebook was right there on his big flat screen. God, I'm never gonna get over how filthy rich he is. Would he think I was just a high school gold digger if he knew the state of my family?

No, of course not. Cause if my mom tried, we could be pretty good, financially. I guess trauma does that to you.

"I'm gonna use your bathroom," I called to him. I grabbed some blankets from the closet in the corner and threw them onto the couch, being sure that there would be enough for Sarah if she sat on the other couch. Setting the remote down, I got to my feet and made my way through the labyrinth-like halls. Just because I've been over to his house so many times, doesn't mean I've memorized the place yet. I doubt even Matt has.

I slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. That's when I noticed Sarah hovering over the sink, wiping her eyes. Was she. . . was she crying?

Not wanting to intrude, I stumbled to grab hold of the handle, but my hands had somehow gotten clammy in the past few seconds and they slipped on the handle.

"S-sorry," I stuttered, while at the same time she said, "It's fine, I'll leave."

Sarah stepped towards the door, and it was now I got a glimpse at her face. Her eyes were red and slightly puffy, while her face had streaks of tears. I should have moved, to let her leave like she wanted, but something stopped me.

"Sarah," I said. She stopped in her tracks, but only stared at the handle. "Sarah, look at me."

Finally she met my eyes, and a million words passed through us. A mill conversations that would have taken hours to speak. Memories of the past few weeks flashed behind my eyes, the nagging pain and jealousy of seeing her with David sharper than ever, and I could see something similar lighting in her eyes.

"Do you even like him?" I whispered, not moving.

I'd like to say she said no and, oh I don't know, kissed me or something. But nope, instead she exploded. "You don't get to ask me that. Of all people, you're the last person that should be allowed to ask that. He's my boyfriend, I have to like him. I need to like him." She kept her voice low, hardly audible from where Matt was. I doubt he could even tell we were speaking.

"Why are you with him?" I pressed desperately, while my mind was screaming at me Great, now what the fuck are you doing? "Can you honestly not see how much I like you? Sarah. . . there's almost no one I can say that I've liked more than I like you now." It didn't feel real as I confessed this. As if it were a dream. A part of me hoped that was all I was so I didn't have to suffer that embarrassment. "I can't keep doing this. I can't keep watching you be with that ass hole. Do you not remember what he called you after you turned him down? The guy's insane!"

"Oh, so I'm not allowed to see other people, but you are? You think this is any easier for me? I never like people. Why do you think the only person I've ever been with was Rick?" I could smell her breath now, she was so close to me. Just this small little detail drove me insane, my stomach lurching and my throat closing up. Why was she so close to me? "You're with my own brother. What makes you think that I'm doing any better than you are? I've tried to move on, to like David as much as I like you. To be normal and just stick to liking guys."

I didn't fully process what she just said, because all I murmured was "You didn't answer my question. Do you like him?"

"You--" she started, glaring hard at me with cold anger. "I can't believe. . ."

Will this girl just finish a damn sentence already?

"You are so fucking stupid," she muttered under her breath before zooming in closer, slamming her mouth onto mine, though with less force than the first time. Her lips were angelically soft as they moved against mine. I reflexively melted into this kiss, falling into her and entwining my arms around her. Her hands gripped my waist, tugging me closer to her until our hips were touching. I moaned into her mouth while her tongue demanded access into my mouth. I practically forced her tongue into my mouth with my own, rubbing it against hers. I could feel the body heat coming off of her in waves, enveloping me in her embrace. I felt so safe and unbelievably incredible holding her to me.

"Sarah," I mumbled, not letting her break the kiss as I fumbled with the hem of her shirt, trying to get it over her head. Damn, she was such a tease wearing a tight shirt like that. I could feel every little curve and muscle through the shirt, and frowned at how difficult it was to get the shirt off. Sarah was laughing in my mouth. If I thought it was heaven just hearing that sound, I had no idea. Now I could actually feel it, all over her body, and taste it. She was laughing into me, and I thought I would pass out with the overwhelming madness of it all.

"I can't believe I'm doing this again," she said, breathless as she pulled the shirt off herself. Oh my God, can you get any sexier when you do it so effortlessly like that? Throw in the flushed, heated cheeks and heaving chest as she gulped for air, you've got yourself a downright goddess.

"Shut up." I swarmed back towards her, and she yelped quietly in surprise as I pushed her back against the sink, wrapping my arms around her bare, hot skin. Obeying without another word, she pushed herself back into me, but I was stronger than her. I lifted her up to sit on the sink and she pulled of my own shirt, which was looser and much easier to take off. Her legs tangled around my back, and there wasn't an inch of her that wasn't pressed up against me.

I swear, you have no idea how thrilled I was at the immensity of this bathroom. I'm not kidding, it was the size of my living room.

Sarah groaned in pain, and reluctantly separated our lips.

"Mother fucking--" she began, her voice loud as she glanced behind her at the sink.

I shushed her, holding my hand over her mouth. "You're a really loud person, you know that?"

Sarah pouted, frowning up at me and still rubbing her butt. "Whatever, this sink is a bitch."

"Maybe we should do something about that," I asserted seductively, trailing my finger along her shoulder and down the center of her chest. A shiver ran through her as her eyes locked on my hand, her breath ragged. Taking her by surprise, I wrapped my arm back around her, lifting her up, and dragged her down into the enormous bathtub. I briefly pondered whether or not she would agree to a quick bath before the lights flicked off, and I distantly heard everything shut off in the house.

"Did the power just go out?" I whispered to her, freezing.

Eleven
chapter eleven: Sarah (Make Me Wanna Die)

Oh fucking yes. If I ever in such a few short weeks that David was good, I was so wrong. Isabelle. . . was gentle and smooth and passionate and indescribably amazing. Her lips were velvety layers of silk patched on to her face, thick and beautiful. Don't even get me started on her tongue.

Her arm wrapped up under my ass, strongly lifting me up on the sink. Just that insignificant motion excited me even more, and I pressed back into her, cupping her face in my hands. It was downright perfect until something hard jabbed into my lower back.

"Mother fucking--" I began, glancing behind me at the elegantly arced gold faucet, towering over the sink, which now pressed hard against my skin.

Just as the words slipped from my mouth, a nimble hand slithered across my mouth. Just the feel of such soft skin shut me up, and I melted. My eyes met her, and I saw she was smiling, amused.

"You're a really loud person, you know that?"

I half-glared, half-pouted up at her, suppressing a big goofy smile. She was mine. Here this sexy girl with to-die-for curves and a fit, had her arms around me and was looking at me in the same way she had before, like she saw through every barrier I put up and was seeing me. That kind of look you wait your entire life for someone to gaze at you with.

Instead of telling her how glorious she looked, and how much she really meant to me right then, I only said "Whatever, this sink is a bitch."

I almost passed out right there when she flirtatiously murmured "Maybe we should do something about that," and ran her manicured finger along my torso, right down between my breasts and along my stomach. It was like send a gust of icy wind down my back and I shivered. I wasn't cold, but I felt the sudden need again to press our skin together.

As if listening in on my thoughts, her arm snaked behind my back, with the other under my thighs and she lifted me up, in a way that looked uncomfortable for her, but she could still look me in the eyes. After what felt like centuries of my mouth being separated from hers for too long, she dragged me down into the bathtub. I broke into a quiet fit of laughter as I fell on top of her.

Oh man, this is so not good, I thought to myself as I looked down on her. Her chest heaved up and down as she breathed heavily, and her hair was a ragged mess. Isabelle's entire face was flushed with heat, and again she kept looking at me. But what was bothering me was I saw her the exact same way. I'm way too in to her for my own good.

Who gives a fuck?

I seized down on her, connecting our lips and ran my hands down her flat stomach, searching. My fingers clasped around the buttons of her jeans, and I knew I didn't even have to ask for permission. She wanted this just as badly as I did. I fumbled with it as I kissed her sensually.

And that's when the lights hanging above us blinked out, and I could hear any other electrical appliance in the house shut off also. For a second, it was just plain and dull silence, until Isabelle broke it. "Did the power just go out?"

No dip, Dick Tracy.

I let out an annoyed groan, and collapsed back down on her, my forehead resting just below her collarbone. "You've got to be shitting me."

I heard (and felt) her contagiously giggle, and she patted my hair. In response, I also laughed.

"We should probably put our shirts back on," she said lightly, brushing strands of hair behind my ear. She couldn't even see me, yet she knew my hair was in my face. I didn't even know my hair was in my face.

I frowned, even though she couldn't see it. "Clothes aren't any fun."

I could feel her stiffen up, and knew she was serious now. The fun and games were over, as was making out and beyond. In a quiet, and nearly inaudible voice, she responded "Neither is Matt coming in here and finding us. . . like this." I could feel her gesture towards our position (her laying down in the bathtub leaning against the wall, with my knees on either side of her waist). My eyes were beginning to adjust, though.

No, how could I do this to him? Again?

Remorse and despair hit me like tsunami, ambushing my joy and serenity. My throat closed up, my heart going unbearably cold. Needles were prickling at the back of my eyes, and I shut them closed to will the tears away.

Maybe this was the effect she'd intended for her words to have, because I immediately hopped off her and onto the marble floor. I collapsed to my hands and knees, scrabbling my hands across the floor. I found Isabelle's shirt first, which I threw back to where she lay motionless. When I found mine, without a blink of an eye I pulled it over my head. It felt funny, but I didn't care.

I found my way to the door, and left Isabelle. Just like I'd done the first time. Fleeing her before she had the chance to understand how it went wrong, and without a shirt, in a bathroom. Can you get anymore deja vu?

Once I was out in the hall, a small glow of light found it's way into my line of sight at the end of the hall where the kitchen was supposed to be. I recognized it as a candle, being held by something in the air.

"Matt?" I called out.

"Sarah, hey, you know where Isabelle is? I think she said she was in the bathroom." His calm and cool voice unnerved me. How could I do this?

"Um, yea, I think she's in there. I was. . . uh, just upstairs. Did you check the circuit breaker?" I was glad he couldn't see me clearly enough, because my hair was tousled from Isabelle digging her hands into it and my lipstick was probably smudged.

Before Matt could respond, the door behind me tossed open, and a figure stumbled out of the bathroom. Even in the lightly-illuminated darkness, I could see how ruffled Isabelle looked, and another pang of guilt stabbed me in the stomach. I turned away before I could throw myself at her and pin her against the wall.

"Oh, hey." Matt's voice was automatically softer, more loving. Not that he wasn't like that with me, just in a brotherly way. But with her, it was as if she were everything he ever wanted. I knew my brother better than anyone, better than my own parents. The disbelieving twinkle shimmering behind his eyes as he looked at her told me an entire story. But when I looked back at Isabelle, I know there's something in the wake of your smile. I get a notion from the look in your eyes. Great, first Adele and now Roxette. Fuck me.

"Hey. Is that the only candle you have? We could set some around the living room and find something to do," Isabelle said smoothly, brushing away the wrinkles in her shirt, thought it really had no effect.

"Good idea," he responded, shaking away the lust written all over his face.

Isabelle and I followed Matt into the kitchen, him still gripping the candle. After a good ten minutes or so, we had plenty of candles strewn around in the living room, kitchen, and bathroom. I had offered to leave the two of them alone. Isabelle looked at me desperately, apologetic, as I said it. She knew I was thinking that it should be romantic for her to be alone with someone in candle light, if she was into that kind of thing. She just had to decide what she wanted. But. . . even if she did choose me over him, something I could scarcely see happening any time soon, I still couldn't be with her. Matt had an attachment linked with her, and I would never be the one to crush that commitment. Anyways, Matt declined my suggestion, insisting I stay with them. He mentioned some embarrassing memory of us years ago during a storm where I wet my pants, but he worded it like an inside joke, which I was thankful for. At least Isabelle didn't understand it. Then again, she didn't understand any of this.

In the end, the three of us sat around a makeshift table, with a Monopoly board out. Matt was the car, I was the cannon, and Isabelle chose the dog. So far, Isabelle had won the Free Parking cash three times now, and she was loaded with five hundred dollar bills. Matt was just striving along, but he had plenty of property. I was decently financed, with hotels on the red place and the Boardwalk and Park Place. Dammit, who am I kidding, what do you care about freaking Monopoly?

I stared hard at the bearded pearl-white man on the center of the board through the scattered bills of fake money, refusing to meet either of their eyes. Matt understood I was the type of person that didn't talk about things, and if I wanted to I would, so he merely ignored my attitude. Isabelle, however, was being pushy and I could feel her curious stares boring hard into me.

She constantly said things like "Can't I have both?" to Matt about the property of certain places, stupid questions, really, but she gave me a funny look after, as if she were hinting something else. I just turned away and acted like I didn't get the message. But I did. and of course she can't have us both! She can have Matt, or no one. I can't have her because Matt had her first and it would be fair to him. He deserves her. Forget what's fair for me, just what about him?

I rolled the dice, scoring a snake eyes and landed on Free Parking. I must've gotten a few thousand dollars, but I didn't care. I just collected the money and averted my eyes away from Matt's envious eyes and Isabelle's concerned stare.

I heard a dull, repetitive thud erupt from the front of the house, slicing through the thundering clouds and shrieking winds. Thankful for a reason to excuse myself, I hopped to my feet and walked towards the front door. Who would be here at nine at night? Matt wouldn't tell anyone our parents were out of town, because he'd want to be semi-alone with Isabelle. Our parents were out on their anniversary vacation in Hawaii for a week, and wouldn't even be capable of getting back until at least tomorrow night. I was a nobody, so it wasn't for me. I suppose, though, it could be Jane. Maybe freaking out about Marcus, her boyfriend, or something.

I was expecting it to be here when I walked down the hall. Another detour of knocks sounded from the door, and I quickened my pace.

"Sarah -- wait," a soft-as-honey voice broke my train of thought as a hand lightly grabbed at my wrist. I sighed inwardly, groaning. Did we have to do this now? No, scratch that, did we have to do this at all?

"I'm sorry."

"That's great," was all I responded with in a flat monotone.

"Sarah, I know I hurt you with this whole staying with Matt thing but--"

I cut her off, doing my best to make my voice sound bored and impatient. "You didn't hurt me, and I couldn't care less about who you sleep around with. It's your life, and last time I checked, I never asked to be a part of it. I'd be better off without you." The last line was a repeat of what I said last time to her after we kissed, and every time I thought of that, I couldn't help but think of that simple little song.

The hurt was evident and clean on her face. It was in her tensed muscles, sparkling eyes, well-defined jaw, and every movement she made. I wanted to envelop her in my arms and apologize, tell her it was all a lie and that I love-- I felt something for her. But instead, I turned on my heel and went to answer the door.

I was just thinking his night could get any worse when I swung open the door. Instead of the tall, scrawny form of a red-headed girl with a splash of freckles and bloodshot eyes, I was greeted (more like stabbed in the gut) by a chilling gust of icy wind and a tall boy. He looked a little older than me, and his head was topped with damp, curly mess of golden hair. His shoulders were broad, not as wide-set as Matt's, but still strong nonetheless. The hands, that I knew so well, were hanging by his sides limply, yet still looking as if capable of squeezing the life out of me. Particular veins bulged more than others as they crawled up his forearm, and he wore a leather jacket over a white shirt, in flannel jeans.

As if flipped by a switch, automatically my blood pumped harder, screaming in my ears while I thought my heart was going to fall out of my chest and on the floor, ready to be stomped on by Isabelle and. . .

"Rick," I breathed.

Isabelle, from behind me, blew up at this. Her voice was exasperated and deadly, a side of her I had never heard or seen before. But it was distant, as if muffled by a pillow, as she exclaimed "This is Rick?"

It felt like someone was sitting on my chest, and I felt lightheaded as the world spun around me. A dull, tingling pain exploded in my right shoulder, bleeding across to my left also until it was like a flood and it encompassed my entire upper body. The weight on my chest thickened until it seemed like an elephant's ass was sitting on me. Revolting agony rolled through my stomach, but all I could do was cringe at the sight of him standing before me. Again, just like before all those many times, something clenched in my throat, and I was unable to breathe.

"Sarah?" Even more distantly than Isabelle's voice had been, Rick's hard and deep voice was like speaking through bullet-proof glass.

And that's when it all went black, and I didn't feel anything anymore.

Twelve
chapter twelve: Isabelle (9 Crimes)

"You didn't hurt me, and I couldn't care less about who you sleep around with. It's your life, and last time I checked, I never asked to be a part of it. I'd be better off without you." Her scalding words were like darts being hurled at high speed, twirling in the air as they dug into my chest and stuck, a frequent reminder of the pain. I was never much of a person to hide my feelings to much, and I hardly felt the need to around Sarah. She should know anyway what effect she had on me, and how she could kill me in a second with a few simple words if she wanted to.

Before I could muster up some reply, her face went blank and she turned around, stalking back towards the door furiously. I could picture almost perfectly the annoyed scowl she'd have plastered on her face as she kicked open the door. Icy slaps of chilling air swooped in, attacking me and slicing through my clothes. I rubbed my arms on reflex. I peered over Sarah's small form to see a rather cute blond boy, wet from the mixture of snow and rain, and cold as hell. A part of him looked extremely nervous, intimidated by the sight of Sarah (who didn't?) but also enlightened. If I hadn't been so enraged with jealousy by seeing David with Sarah or so madly into her, I'd think they'd make a cute couple.

Of course, everything in me just shut down, like the power, as a blade of lightning slashed across the sky, illuminating the entrance way even more and Sarah, under her breath, exasperatedly said "Rick."

It was like injecting my veins with pure adrenaline. I could hear my heart beating rapidly in my ears. My hands went clammy, and my first instinct was to kick this douche bag's ass. What the fuck made him think he had any fucking right to come to Sarah's fucking house and try and fucking talk to her?

Whoa, easy on the fuck there.

"This is Rick?" I erupted, taking a step forward so I was directly behind Sarah. But her body was quivering, and she was staggering on the spot. I could hear her breath coming out uneven and ragged, quick as if she couldn't ever get enough.

"Sarah?" Rick asked tentatively, moving forward the slightest. He didn't even look at me, I wonder if he had even acknowledged I was there. God dammit! Why did all of the guys I know that would beat someone up for me without questions have to be in jail? Fuck.

That's when she collapsed, falling like a sack of potatoes. No, she didn't fall backwards, she just crumpled in an awkward heap. It wasn't like in the movies, it was as if she were just a rag doll. I had to leap forward to catch her, and blushed like mad when what I ended up grabbing was her right breast. But I have to say, it was a fine one at that.

Okay, dirty thoughts are a really bad idea right now.

Rick lashed forward, kneeling in front of me holding an unconscious Sarah, but I snarled at him "Don't even think of touching her you disgusting little creep." Then, slowly cocking my head in the opposite direction, I screeched for Matt's name. I looked back at Rick, right into those cold and hard blue eyes (did everyone but me have blue eyes?) and hissed "I know what you did. One more slip-up, and I swear to God I'll make sure personally you wish you were dead." It all just tumbled out in a rush of words, tripping over each other. I had never been the type of person to become offensive and make threats or something. I was never so. . . just cruel, I guess. Even though this guy is a bastard and I'd give everything (but Sarah, of course) to put his head on a stick.

Matt stumbled to where I was, falling to the floor beside me. "What the hell happened?" he yelled, giving Rick a confused glance before focusing on me.

"She. . . she just co-collapsed and I. . . I. . . Matt just do something!" I was all of a sudden shrieking the words at him, feeling hot tears falling down my cheeks. I roamed my fingers along her neck, searching for her pulse point. It was practically a dull hum, beating abnormally fast.

"What did you do to her?" I screamed at Rick as Matt whipped out his cell. The tears were falling faster now, and I couldn't stop them. Someone was stabbing me heard and repeatedly in the chest, and I clutched tighter and tighter on to her in my arms. Her head lolled back, and I was terrified her neck would snap, she was so limp. I held her head up, and had to get a grip of myself before I kissed her.

Rick just stared at me, confused and desperately panicked, while Matt cursed at having no signal. He barked at Rick to check if he had anything before grabbing my phone out of my back pocket without even asking permission. Matt cursed again and tossed my phone aside. He was sitting at Sarah's head, looking down on her, and he now held her head, brushing her beautiful hair out of her face. Her mouth was parted, and it'd be so easy for me to kiss her. . . but I couldn't. Not in front of Matt.

"I have a signal," Rick said numbly, handing his phone to Matt.

"What the fuck are you handing it to me for? Call 911 dumbass!"

Normally, Matt wasn't so harsh either, he was patient with people and usually gentle, like me. I guess seeing someone you lov-- deeply care about collapse tends to do that to you.

Rick, startled, just press three single keys on his phone, and pressed it to his ear.

And the next thing I knew I was sitting in the back of an ambulance after shrieking at the EMT's to let me ride with her. I ushered Matt to go in a car and that I'd take care of her. I could see the trust in his eyes, and it broke my heart to see it. I didn't deserve that kind of reward. I took our commitment to each other, hurled it at the ground, and smeared it in the dirt. I walked away from it the second I let Sarah kiss me in the bathroom the first time. I betrayed him.

But I have to think about Sarah now. I can't beat myself up over cheating Matt with his sister. I'm holding Sarah's hand now, squeezing it tightly. Her eyes won't even flutter, and my heart almost stopped itself when that sharp hum burst from the monitor above one of the EMT's, signalling she had no pulse. One of them pushed me out of the way as they took out those paddles. I'm telling you, it was nothing like on TV. They were constantly barking orders at each other, and shoving me out of the way for easy access to her. It was cramped and tight back there, and no television program can capture the exact pain that was in the air now, wafting off in waves from me.

Certain words from their conversation flew out in the air as they switched Sarah to a gurney and wheeled her into the emergency room. "Heart attack. . . cardiac arrest. . . emotional distress?. . . coronary arteries. . ." I'd never been very good in health, but I understood enough to make the floor slip out from under me as the world spun at too fast a pace. I tripped over my own feet as I followed Sarah's cart, pushing through the swarm of doctors and making my way to her bedside. I once again put her hand in mine, too distraught to enjoy the feel of her fingers laced with mine. Too bad she wasn't even awake to know I was there for her.

There was a point they wouldn't let me any further, and this time my shrieks and screams didn't work, they just made security escort me to the waiting room. Someone came buy to pester me with a series of questions, basically anything helpful I knew about her. Don't ask me how I knew her blood type, I just did. Is that stalkerish?

Seconds later, Matt burst through the automatic doors of the ER, only in pants and a shirt. He must have been freezing, but he didn't even show it.

"Matt," I sobbed, rushing up to him. His arms went around me, rubbing my back. His embrace was warm and tight, surrounding me all over. I just wished he was an only child, and I could be perfectly content to be with him and just him only. If I didn't know Sarah, I'd be completely capable of just that. I felt so safe in his arms, I wanted to be there forever. But I was pulled out all too soon, by the voice of the last person on earth I wanted to see.

"Is she going to be okay?"

I broke away from Matt, weaving around him. Rick stood there, still in his leather jacket and flannel jeans. His blond hair was a mess, and he had a wicked look to his eyes.

Standing close enough to him so Matt couldn't hear me, I hissed with the most anger and resentment I could muster, "No, she's not fucking okay. She's a mess because someone she thought she could trust tried to kill her. You broke her. She's never going to be the same, and it's you fault. It's your fault we're here now. You're not even wanted here. Matt doesn't give a damn who you are, I don't fucking like you at all, if anything I want to see you skinned alive, and I'm sure as hell that Sarah has no intentions of ever wanting to see your sorry-ass face ever again. Screw you, Rick. Don't ever come back."

Dark and tragic anger flared through his eyes, and I remembered how Sarah mentioned the anger issues. It isn't like he can kill me. Matt would be on top of him smashing his face in before I'd even feel any pain. So yea, you can fucking bet your life that I stood tall in front of him, not wavering my stance, and glared hard into his cheap disgusting eyes.

"I came to apologize," he muttered.

That's when I was on him. I'd come up with a strength in me I never knew I had, and I guess you can thank my male, older cousins for that, who had been like brothers for me growing up. I swung my arm back, leaning on my back foot, and flung my fist at his face. If you had blinked, you would have missed it, and the next thing anyone knew Rick was on the floor, cradling his nose, that was now gushing blood like a firehose. He'd let out an agonizing yelp of pain in that split second, but now he was cursing like a drunk sailor, plenty of words I would rather not repeat to you.

"Bitch!" he shrieked.

Matt was next to me in a second, while I winced in pain. My knuckles were already turning an ugly purple, and swelling by the second. Lemme tell you, it hurt like a mother fucker, but it was worth it to see Rick on the ground, his blood seeping over the floor.

Then the security was back, holding me by both arms as if I was going to pounce on him again. But he was already down; defenseless. I was already satisfied.

"Isabelle, what the hell?" Matt asked me incredelously.

"Let go of her, she's hurt," a female doctor snapped at the security guards. I smirked at them as the doctor led me to an empty bed, still in the same room as Rick, who was now being carried to the bed next to mine. His shirt and jacket were covered in his blood, and I laughed sadistically at the sight. I didn't like this side of me. It was cruel and heartless. Now, I guess I had just been in denial the entire time I was waiting for an update on Sarah.

A plastic surgeon was looking at Rick now.

"Does this hurt?" the doctor, who's name tag said Lucy Fairbanks. She was fiddling with my hand, doing a bunch of weird hospital stuff that I was too zoned out to notice.

"Sure, whatever."

Lucy kept working on my hand. "You work in ped's?" I asked, using the abbreviation for pediatrics. Yea, I've seen enough Grey's Anatomy to at least know the hospital slang.

Frowning and slightly embarrassed, she replied "No, I'm actually an intern. But I'm still good at what I do!" She added the last part in a hurry, with a stricken look on her face.

With a laugh, I siad "Look, it's cool, I'm not gonna punch you too. That guy--" I pointed to Rick with my good hand, "just was a cheating and manipulative douche bag to someone I really care about."

"Is that the girl you came in with?" she asked thoughtfully. She was now putting some cream or ointment on my hand, rubbing it smoothly and expertly across my swelling skin. "By the way, your hand's broken."

"Well no shit," I said sarcastically, giving her a sly look. And why not? I thought as I added a wink for the hell of it. Might as well have a little fun. I could totally tell she was in the closet.

"Did you give me morphine?"

"Yes, didn't you see me put the IV in your arm?"

I glanced down at my forearm now, and whattya know, there was a tube sticking on the inside of my elbow, whatever that was called.

"Dude, I think I'm high," I exclaimed thrillingly, bursting into a fit of giggles.

Lucy chuckled at me before wrapped a bandage around my arm. She said something about me needing an X-ray to see how bad it was, and she'd find someone to finish me up.

***

By the time I was back in the waiting room with a cast now on my right hand and over a fat portion of my wrist, Matt was lounged in a chair, his eyes bloodshot. He looked like he'd seen a ghost, but I guess that's what happens when your sister collapses and gets rushed to the hospital, your girlfriend punches a random stranger and breaks her hand, gets rushed off for X-rays, and the stranger also being careened through the hospital. He was alone for hours, and still, no one had thought it decent to inform him on the state of his sister.

"Um. . . hey," I greeted him quietly, taking the seat beside him.

Before he could respond, an older, male voice called out Matt's name, wearing a doctor's coat and holding a chart. Noticing both mine and Matt's heads swiveling in his direction, he strode towards us, while Matt and I met him halfway.

"Are you the family of Sarah Wilson?" he asked through his wire-rimmed glasses.

Matt nodded. I was a little surprised when his arm looped around my waist and he tugged me against him so our hips were touching. I thought he'd be mad at me or something for the stunt I pulled before.

"She's stable for now. We took her to one of our rooms, and she's resting. I'd recommend no visitors, or at least try not to disturb her. She's sleeping now. Sarah went into cardiac arrest, a heart attack, and we did a chest x-ray, an electrocardigram, and an MRI to get a better knowledge of her condition. Fortunately, she has no coronary artery disease, but this heart attack, we believe was caused by some sort of emotional distress. When you are under emotional stress, your adrenal glands located on top of each kidney will secrete adrenaline. When blood supply to the heart does not meet the oxygen requirement of the heart muscle, anaerobic respiration of the muscle cells result. This will lead to the build up of lactic acid and other chemicals which damage the heart muscle cells. When large amount of heart cells died of this kind of "suffocation", myocardial infarction or heart attack results."

I don't know about you, but I barely understood shit from that explanation.

Thirteen
chapter thirteen: Sarah (100 Years)

I blearily blinked my eyes open, a blurry white ceiling spinning into view out of darkness. The first thing I was aware of was an immense, dull ache sprouting in my chest, suppressing my entire torso. It was a familiar feeling, one I'd felt dozens of times before. It's what happened when you couldn't breathe for a period of time and you pushed yourself to the limit trying to fill your lungs with more air. But it was worse this time. Even as I opened my eyes, my muscles ached and my eyelids sliding closed, but I wasn't sleepy, just sore.

And not just that, but as I to lay flat on my back in the hospital bed and remembered everything -- waking up on a gurney with pale faces leaning over me, being taken through series of tests, and plenty of confusing explanations. Seeing Rick, the heart attack, all of it, it just came flooding back overwhelming me and a wave of despair washed over me. It was just a nauseating sense of depressing emotions, drowning me all at once.

I had to fight back tears, for reasons I had no idea, as I sat up. Immediately, I noticed a slumped figure, with her face buried in her hands, as if she were upset over something,

"Isabelle?" I croaked, rubbing my eyes.

Isabelle lifted her head, and even in my dreamy state, I could tell she'd been crying before. Though now, she wasn't. It was clear she hadn't slept at all the entire night. But there was something hiding in her, ready to pounce. There was more to her right at that moment that her eyes met mine, than I would have thought. Something similar to what I went through.

"You're okay," was all she said.

"More or less."

There were a few moments where we just sat there, staring at each other, trying to peel back each other's layers and hack into the other person's thoughts. I knew I was about as revealing as a brick wall, but Isabelle was hardly any better. She was definitely one to show emotion, but never any facts as to why she felt the way she did.

"Rick," she blurted randomly, cracking the silence.

This time, the memories were unbearably strong as they flashed against my eyelids, and a congesting handful of scarred fear swallowed me whole. "What about him?" I asked calmly, though inside I was exploding.

"You said his name. In your sleep, just now, you said his name." Isabelle's mouth was set in a firm line, her lips pressed tightly together. The door was closed and the blinds in the window were down, so if I hadn't been so exhausted, I'd actually jump out of this bed and press her face to mine.

But no, I had to have the strength of a carrot.

Then the grogginess ebbed away and her words hit me like a swarm of bees. "I. . . I what?"

Isabelle's lower lip quivered, and she bit it to stop it, while her jaw clenched and unclenched. Her voice cracked as she tried to calmly say "I was with you practically the entire time. I rode with you in the ambulance and I was by your side until they literally had to make security take me away from you. I broke my hand for you, making the guy that destroyed you cower on the ground gush blood. I've been up all night, just talking to you, hoping you'll wake up." I had no idea what to say to this. I felt stupid in the polka-dotted hospital robe and sitting helpless in a bed while she stood up and paced back and forth. I couldn't smother the confusing depressing clawing at me, and now I was listening to Isabelle freak out on me. It was all just too much.

"And now, you're freaking calling out Rick's name in your sleep? Do I mean anything to you?" She was screeching now, her voice high pitched and cracked \-- no, it was more than that, it was practically annihilated.

"Stop!" I shrieked, unable to stand it any longer. The more I could see how much I was hurting Isabelle, the more the remorse and feelings of anxiety grew, eating me alive. I was furiously infuriated at Rick for coming back and at Isabelle for exploding on me just as I woke up. I was afraid of him because he had so much power in his hands and he broke me before, he could do it again, and terrified of Isabelle because she was just so wild right now. What happened to the calm, composed girl I knew? And why the hell was I so upset and depressed?

A doctor came in then, seeing me hugging my knees with tears in my eyes, and Isabelle standing over me with a distraught look on her face again.

"I think Ms. Wilson should have some time alone. The effects after such a serious attack can be overwhelming, and visiting hours don't even start for another hour. Family only."

I had no idea who this was, but Isabelle looked at her like she knew her. The doctor blushed under her eyes, but held her ground.

"Fine," Isabelle muttered, grabbing her bag off the floor and stalking past the doctor and out the door.

I am so screwed, I thought dreadfully, my head falling into my arms. The sobs were choked out of me, slicing at my skin and turning me cold. It was all too much. And now I just screwed up the last person on earth I wanted to screw over, in my freaking sleep. That just shows how great of a person I am.

"How are you feeling?"

I lifted my head from my knees, and looked up at the doctor. Her labcoat said her name was Lucy Fairbanks, but her clothes were a different color than the other doctor who gave me the MRI. Either she was below him, or above.

"Honestly? Like I'm going to explode."

Lucy stood at the end of my bed, reading over my chart. "That's normal. About one in four patients after a heart attack feel depressed, angry, or upset. You should limit your visits with your friend. You can increase them later on depending on how you feel."

"I feel like I'm going to explode," I repeated, running my fingers through my hair.

"I," Lucy started, taking her cheap black pager of the waistband of her light blue pants, "will page your doctor and talk about getting you a prescription for anti-anxiety/anti-depressants. How does that sound?" She looked up at me questioningly.

"Fine. So you're not my doctor?" The terrible emotions were slipping away. This conversation was easier. It was aloof and simple and easy, nothing stressful like when Isabelle was yelling at me for saying Rick's name. I don't even remember having a dream about him.

No, instead, I was sucked back into such a regular, normal dream that was practically heaven. I don't even have to go in to much details. Just imagine me and Isabelle in a bathroom, like the two times before. And you've got my dream.

So why the hell did I say his name in my sleep? Last I checked, he didn't have dark curly hair, lush lips, killer curves and a gorgeous perfections. Last time I checked, he meant nothing to me.

"Um, actually I'm an intern working on your case. Is that okay?"

I just simply nodded. "Do you know where my brother is?"

Fourteen
chapter fourteen: Isabelle (Turning Tables)

I can't believe it. What the hell has gotten into me? When I heard Sarah mutter that scarcely audible word into the cloud of depressing silence, I had sworn to myself I wouldn't let it get to me, and I sure as hell wouldn't bring it up to her. Then, next thing I new she was staring at me with goggly heart-attack eyes, hugging her knees as I screamed at her. Matt had left to go to the cafeteria a good ten minutes before Sarah mumbled Rick's name, and he wasn't back when Lucy kicked me out. Speaking of which, she was only an intern. Was she even allowed to do that? Whatever, I should be grateful. Something had been seriously wrong with Sarah, and I was only making it worse. Who gives a damn that I was by her side the entire time? It didn't even matter, because all I got as a reward was a busted up hand and a broken heart. I would have been better off having not done it at all.

I just need to cool off. Maybe find Matt, tell him his sister is awake, and go home. I'm sure Nathan was okay, and that Mom wasn't going on and on about Sydney, asking when she'd be home or complaining about her boyfriend. If she was like that, that meant she was clearly and entirely wasted, which happened too frequently for my taste. Maybe I could just go out for breakfast. I hadn't eaten since. . . when was the last time I ate? There hadn't been enough food at home for Nathan and I, so I let him have all of it, figuring I'd eat at Matt's. I left his house that morning before eating anything for breakfast. . . but as soon as I got to Matt's place I was in the bathroom half naked about to do the nasty with his sister, and then the power went out, and then we played a stupid board game while all the while I was just trying to get Sarah to look at me, and then Rick showed up. There wasn't any time for such a petty thing as consumption of food. Maybe I should just go get a coffee somewhere. A bagel? No. Even though I should be starved, my lack of appetite was increasing the more I thought about Sarah, cowering away from me with a look of horror.

Ugh, why was I like this? This wasn't me. Breaking noses and throwing fits, that was the job of the bitchy annoying low-lives. Not a serene and peaceful girl like me. Dammit, I hate Sarah. I hate everything about her. I hate it all, because it's just exactly what I love. I hate that I love her glorious laugh, her envious and quirky shining robin egg-blue eyes, that paralyzing smile, the minuscule freckle just hiding at the corner of her left eye, the only thing keeping her skin from being flawless, the nominal frame of hers and delicate shoulders yet commanding attitude. I hated that I loved all her imperfections, that made her so perfect. I hate everything about her. Why do I love her?

Then there's Matt. Sweet and gentle Matt with his ruffled dark hair, pearly eyes and adorable smile. He's strong and supportive of anything. If we'd been just friends, and I told him I liked girls too, he'd be so accepting about it, and even make jokes about the idea so I'd be more comfortable to talk about it with him. If we were just friends, he was the guy I could call when a guy cheated on me and he could go to kick his ass. He was the type of person I could tell anything, and he'd always have a surprising but amazing reaction to it all, no matter how terrible. If I told him about Sydney or my mom or the fire, he'd hold me and never let go. So why can't I tell him? Why can't I tell him what happened that dreadful and stupid and impulsive night? Because I don't want to remember. I have to forget so it doesn't eat me alive like Sarah's secret is rotting her away. The point is, Matt is the best guy you could ever wish for to have in you life. Sarah was the best girl you could ever ask for. How can I be in love with them both?

In the end, I was standing in the cafeteria. With it's naked white walls and linoleum floors, it was depressing. There was a bar in the center of the room with various foods, a register at the end. A splatter of tables were placed randomly all over, with ugly looking blue plastic chairs surrounding them. Some people with scrub caps and dark blue scrubs, while others had those poles with clear bags hanging following them around, while they had scarves wrapped around their heads. Others looked plain and ordinary, probably the family of patients or doctors. Some nurses lingered. This definitely wasn't the easy and free cafeteria you see on TV about hospital dramas. It was terrifying and depressing. It gave the impression that the devil was concealed behind every corner, pitchfork in hand with a ghastly smile scorching on his face, waiting to pounce in his next victim.

I shivered at the aura in the room, and scanned the area, peeling my eyes for a familiar face. Eventually, I was able to pick out Matt. He was facing my general direction, sitting at a table, but deep in conversation with some patient. I knew it was a patient because they were wearing cheap hospital clothes. I couldn't see their face, but the hair was enough to tell me who it was; gleaming curly gold hair.

"What the hell is he still doing here?" I demanded, stepping up to were Matt sat with Rick. Matt's hands were wrapped around a plastic coffee cup, and his face was pale and delicate-looking. When he looked up at me, the first thing I saw was soothed relief, but it quickly altered to desperation.

"Give him a break, Isabelle."

Rick glared up at me. His nose was purple, and had one of those bandage things to hold it in place. A light flicker of fear sparked in his features, but anyone else would have merely missed it.

"Matt, listen to me, he's not a good guy. If you knew what he did--"

"Isabelle, I know," Matt interrupted sternly. His eyes met mine, and for once in my life I was tempted to look away, because his gaze was so strong. That was another thing. While you had to practically force Sarah to even look at you for a second, Matt made you want to look away, as if you were intruding on something private and it embarrassed you to be witnessing it. "Rick told me what happened."

Okay, so not what I was expecting."

"He. . . he told you? Everything?"

Matt sighed through his nostrils, twiddling with his fingers wrapped around the coffee. He gave a brief look at Rick, and then back at me. "I know he cheated on Sarah, and something like that should be unforgivable, but if you just hear him out, he's sincerely regretting what he did. Isabelle, I know a bad guy when I see one, and Rick just isn't that kind of guy."

So Rick only told him that part. That was hardly a factor. I mean yea, it was the whole reason she broke up with him in the first place, but still. Sarah wasn't the kind of girl to let that stick to her for so long. It was the strangling that disturbed and destroyed her.

"He deserves a chance. Sarah should at least hear him out."

"Matt, he gave her a heart attack. Didn't you hear what they said? It was caused by emotional distress. Are you just going to tell me it was a coincidence that she happened to have had it the second she saw Rick? I don't know about you, but I never actually saw Monopoly as that stressful of a board game."

Not, Matt was frowning at me. Not in a way as if he were taking my words into consideration, but more as if he just didn't understand something. It was when he spoke his mind, like he always did (which was another thing I loved about him), that I realized it was, and my blood ran cold. "Why do you care so much? Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful you've been so wonderful and supportive throughout all of this. God knows I'm terrible with these situations and I'd have no idea how to deal with Sarah, but. . . you and Sarah weren't that close. You two have been alone in the same room, what, twice? Three times? How did you even know about this guy?"

If he was as forgiving with Rick for what he did to Sarah, and willing to let him near her without busting his brains out, would he be able to look at me the same way he used to if I told him the truth? Or would it just make me lose, not only him, but Sarah too?

I was wobbling slightly, so I saw down next to Matt.

Should I tell him?

My mouth had a mind of its own, and made the decision for me. I can't say whether it was the right one, even to this day, but it was definitely easier to deal with. The next thing I knew words were coming out of my barren lips. "Sometimes all a girl needs is someone to talk to. It's not always easy to talk to you brother about this kind of thing, and it's a little less hard to talk to a stranger, as opposed to someone you see everyday. We just. . . talk sometimes." It wasn't necessarily a lie. We did talk a little bit. Except we were a little more physical. But psh, just minor details, right? "And, I care about you. You mean a lot to me, Matt, and I'd hate to see anything happen to you. I know, believe me, I know how close you are with Sarah, and I also know how much it would hurt to you if anything happened to her either. What happens to Sarah, happens to you."

It was the best I could come up with, but Matt bought it. Even Rick seemed to believe it, who had been wearily looking back and forth between Matt and I.

"But trust me, Matt, when I say she doesn't want to see him," I asserted forcefully, trying to tell him everything with my eyes. He had to understand this was bigger than Rick making out with some other girl. It was so much more than that.

"We have to give him a chance."

"We don't have to give him anything."

"Isabelle, just let him talk to her. What harm could it possibly do? Just let her hear him out."

"Matt, do you not understand this? Just seeing him for a few short seconds was enough to put her in the hospital." Why was he taking Rick's side? I was his girlfriend, he should trust me. I glared at Rick so coldly, I could see another flash of fear trickle down his face like water.

"You don't get to decide this. She's my sister, and my parents aren't getting back until tomorrow morning. Until they're here, and I see them, I'm the person that gets to decide what happens to her. Not you. This isn't your concern, and I think Rick deserves at least a chance. He's going to talk to her."

***

I had insisted on opening the blinds. I didn't give a shit whatever sob story Rick pulled on Matt to get him on his side. I wasn't going to let her out of my sight. Rick sat in the chair I'd been in most of the night before, his hands entwined together as he leaned forward, his elbows propped up on his knees. He looked rather silly with that broken, purple nose, and if I didn't know what he'd done, I'd say he had tears in his eyes, and was on the verge of crying.

Sarah, on the other hand, just sat up straight in her hospital bed. She looked better than she had in the morning, or when she first saw him. Her cheeks had more color to them, and was no longer looking so terrified or upset. You could almost say she looked normal, despite the ugly hospital attire and the IV in her arm, along with the tube wrapped around her head with two plugs in her nose. Her face was unreadable, as usual. Blank. It was literally impossible, even for me, to decide whether or not she was inclined to forgive him for everything she suffered with the past few months, or she was about to shriek at him to get out and never show his face again. It took every single ounce of self-control not to launch myself through the door and beat the crap out of him.

"I'm sorry."

I turned to my side to see Matt, who had walked away from Sarah's doctor and stepped up next to me. He too watched Rick and Sarah talk. Or technically, Rick, since Sarah kept her lips sealed. The room was soundproof, and I never was much of a lip reader. But I gathered enough that Rick was giving her some "I feel so terrible and I'm sorry" trip, in the hopes she might buy it. Was I the only person who saw that it was just an act, and he felt no remorse at all? How could they not see he was just going to hurt her again, and this time she might not make it out alive?

"For what?" I asked curiously, still watching them out of the corner of my eye.

Matt shrugged. "Getting angry with you earlier. You were just trying to help, and do what's best for Sarah."

"It's okay," I replied sincerely. I gave him a weak smile. "You're her older brother, it's your job to have her best interest. Not your girlfriend's. I was a bit out of line."

I saw the muscles lining his jaw flex. His hands were spread out before him, leaning against the window. The muscles that ran along his arm were doing the same thing, and I for once saw that he was in as much pain seeing Sarah in here, as I was. More, even. I knew her for a little over a month. He's known her for almost his entire, practically as long as he can remember.

"It's just. . . I don't want her to do something she'd regret, you know? I don't want her to think a few years from now, 'What if I had just heard him out?' I just want to look out for her, without controlling her. Even though she's only a year younger than the both of us, it feels she's so much smaller and oblivious to the real world."

I had to hold back a smirk on that one, because it was just ironic how so wrong he was. "Trust me, she's smarter than you think."

"I know."

I crossed my arms, all of a sudden feeling chilly. Hacking into my thoughts, Matt pulled me into him, his arm around my shoulders. His fingers danced along my arm, rubbing warmth into my skin. He kissed the top of my head, but I turned and kissed him on his mouth, holding his lightly-stubble face in my hands. I felt high as his arms curled around my lower back, strong and capable.

"Isabelle?"

I reluctantly pulled out of the kiss, detaching myself from Matt. I could tell he was as disappointed as I was, and I had to admit, I was a bit furious myself. Couldn't whoever it was see that we were busy?

That's when I stopped dead. At the nurse's station with her wild curly hair and leopard-printed, skin tight cocktail dress with so much eyeliner she looked like a raccoon with apple-red lips, was my mother. She had been arguing with one of the nurses, who was clearly annoyed. I knew immediately she was drunk. It was in her sloppy stance and twisted smile.

"Mom?"

I could tell she wasn't injured, it was clear. Which only meant one thing. I knew why she was here.

"I'll be a minute, wait here," I muttered to Matt, who still held my hand until we were too far to reach each other as I walked away.

As I stepped up to my mother, I caught the end of the nurse's sentence, who acted as if she'd never dealt with a drunk mother before. ". . . no patient named Sydney Johnson in this hospital. Are you her daughter?" The question was obviously directed at me, and I nodded.

I didn't want to know how my mother got here, and I had to put Nathan to the back of my mind. If she was here looking for Sydney, he would have undeniably left the apartment the second she started saying she was going to go visit her.

"Sweetie, would you please tell this nice lady here that Sydney is here?" Mom said to me with a slurred voice.

I leaned against the counter, sticking my head over as I whispered, "Do me a favor and call her a cab. I can't leave."

She nodded, with a look of sickening sympathy at me. I hoped she wasn't going to call social services on us, because that would hit my mother hard, and be that final act that inched her over the edge, until she was tumbling into the unknown, with nothing left to care for at all.

"And call security," I added.

Within five minutes, maybe less, two well-built, middle aged men with dark hair came to the station. The pitying nurse explained to them what was going on. During the short time we'd been waiting for them, my mother slowly got more and more desperate to find Sydney. She had been making a scene, and I waved at Matt, signalling I didn't need his help when he started towards us. She was screaming for her daughter, her other daughter, and was sobbing hard. She clung to my shoulders, shouting the words in my face. She kept insisting I wasn't the daughter she wanted, I was never wanted by her.

"I've never loved you!" she screeched in my face, the tears smeering her makeup until she was a mess. "You're not the one I want! I want my baby! You've always been a disgrace to this family, and we'd all have been better off without you. You're the worst child a mother could ask for, you sluttly little bitch. Where is Sydney? I want Sydney!"r

The guards were able to restrain her, sedating her with some tranquilizer probably. I didn't want to deal with her anymore. She'd been this drunk before, but never had she said anything resembling what she just told me.

The last words I heard her shout my way before she disappeared behind the closing elevator doors were "I wish it was you that had died."

As the words burned into me, it was almost as if I could feel the angry tongues of flame licking up by back, lapping at me excitedly while snarling black smoke swarmed around me, clogging my throat and nostrils. The heat was hard and excruciating. I was just beginning to think it was real when it all vanished, and I was standing alone once again.

If the nurse had felt sorry for me before, it was nothing like the way she looked at me now. I would have thought she was going cry, if she didn't see things like this every day. I just looked away from her, walking in the direction of where Matt was. Nearly everyone on the floor had witnessed the little show my mother displayed, except the patients in their rooms, thanks to the soundproof walls. But I could feel all their sympathetic eyes scorching into my back. But worst of all, was Matt, who stared at me like he didn't even know who I was.

Silently, I collapsed into his arms, balling my fingers into fists around his shirt. Next thing I knew, his arms were tight around me and the tears were streaking down my face and soaking into the fabric of his apparel. All the while he held me, without a single word, while I cried. No one else spoke to us or bothered me. I guess they were just minding their own business.

After a while, Sarah's doctor came by again to ask Matt a bunch of questions. I could hear droplets of their conversation buzzing in my ear, and I gathered enough to come to the conclusion he was asking Matt if he had any idea what Sarah's emotional distress could have been caused by.

That's when I remembered Sarah and Rick. I didn't bother to look through the window, and only trod towards the door, wiping my eyes on my arm. I winced as the hard cast scratched at the edge of my face, but continued to enter her room nonetheless.

I was about to speak, but I was cut off by the sight I saw. Sarah was enveloped in Rick's arms, and his mouth was glued to hers. Her eyes were wide open, and I could see something flickering in her eyes, and emotion I didn't recognize.

As soon as Sarah's eyes were on me, she shoved herself away from Rick, a look of horror at seeing me there.

"Isabelle, it isn't what you think. You don't understand--" Sarah was flustered, stumbling over her own words as she rushed towards me. She tried to grab my hands, but I didn't let her, and just pushed her away from me.

How could. . . how could she kiss him? I know I'm with Matt and I'm not better, but she was with David, if that meant anything. But. . . of all people, she picked Rick? He tried to kill her and he took her life and slaughtered it into millions of little pieces, cackling all along the way. She knew I was right outside the door, and I had been watching them. Had she been trying to hurt me? Had I not made it clear I was in love with her?

"No," I said firmly, tears welling up once again in my eyes. It felt like someone slashed my chest open, stuffed in some salt and boiling oil, sealing the wound messily with paper clips, leaving me to scorch and welt from the inside out. "No, Sarah. I understand perfectly."

I charged out of the room, racing passed a startled Matt. I had to get out of there. I couldn't handle this. It was all just too much. I couldn't take it anymore.

Fifteen
chapter fifteen: Sarah (The Reason)

"Just listen to what he has to say, Sarah," Matt insisted, giving me that look. You know, the one that says "Fucking do what I say or I'm gonna fuck you over in a totally non-dirty, brotherly way." Know that look? No? Good, 'cause I'm telling you, it's a pain in the ass to deal with.

I sighed in annoyance, shaking my head roughly. "No, Matt. He's just a stupid ass hole, and I really don't care what he has to say."

"Sarah, please, just hear the guy out. He really does sound truly sorry for cheating on you."

At least Isabelle hadn't told him. I mean, considering the way I got her kicked out this morning and was totally oblivious to how much she had done for me in the past twelve hours. I was a bit surprised she hadn't confessed everything. She didn't seem like the type of person to keeps secrets. Then again, I hardly knew anything about her, so I guess she was keeping nearly her entire life a secret.

Surprisingly enough, I had gotten used to the idea Rick was back. I hadn't seen him since the summer because he went to some boarding school a few towns over, supposedly a really wealthy place my parents had looked at for us when we first came here ten years ago. It had grades 1-12, and it was apparently huge. But they were really strict about letting their students leave campus during the school week, and I guess he had limited time to come back. But anyway, I wasn't exactly as frightened as I'd been all those months of looking over my shoulder in masked fear and checking around every corner, always watching everything around me. I was more. . . at peace and accepting of his reappearance.

I just didn't want to see him. Is that so wrong? There's nothing he can say that can make me. . . what? What did he want anyway? Get back together? My forgiveness? I wasn't the fucking pope, I don't willingly take in confessions and give them peace in mind and take away their sins or whatever.

"I don't care, Matt! Really, I don't give a shit whatever he has to say, it's not gonna change anything. I'm not going to take him back or let him play any part in my life. I don't want anything to do with him."

"Stop being such a stubborn spoiled brat!" he yelled at me furiously. The doctors had given me something for the overbearing emotions, and so I was a bit more aloof than before. But that still didn't make me immune to Matt's words. It still hurt.

"Fine! Whatever, since you obviously think you know everything, I'll let him spill his fucking guts and beg for my approval of his lifestyle, just so I can prove to you, it won't make a difference."

That's basically how it went. It was a short-lived argument, and I of course lost, being the little sister. Matt ususally won these battles, however few of them there may be. I still can't believe Rick has him under his spell. Shouldn't he be on my side? Not a stranger's? Pfft, whoever said that all brothers will beat up any cheating douche bag was a fucking moron.

So now, I'm sitting in my bed with Rick in the same chair Isabelle had been in this morning, listening to nothing but a numbing and shrill silence.

"Can they hear us?" he asked.

"No."

"You grew out you hair."

"No shit, Captain Obvious."

"Did you miss me?"

"No."

"I missed you."

"Then let's throw a fucking parade."

He was quiet after that, clicking his tongue and twiddling with his thumbs. Rick stared hard at the floor. To tell you the truth, I actually found this pretty amusing. I might just be high or something on whatever medication they gave me, but whatever. Here he was, expecting me to forget everything I did to him, and I'm being the same old person I've always been; my sarcastic, witty, and fucking hilarious self.

"I found a reason for me to change who I used to be. A reason to start over new. And the reason is you," he said at last.

I swear, I was this close to bursting out in mad laughter, but I kept my calm. If he thought I was a lunatic who didn't understand the value of lyrics, he was fucking wrong. "I know that song, retard. You sound really stupid, by the way."

Rick actually cracked a smile. "That song was playing on the radio when I was driving us on our first date."

"Am I supposed to care?"

Rick sighed, shaking his had sadly. He ran his hand through his messy hair, and for the first time, I noticed something. His cheeks were hollower, as if a hand had scooped out all the skin. He had no color in his face, his once beautiful hair was now brittle and thin. He was a lot thinner than I remember. I could tell now that he was wearing thinner clothing, instead if his bulky jacket and thick jeans.

"I'm sorry. I've been thinking a lot recently. I hadn't come sooner because I wouldn't be able to bear seeing you again after what I did. I wanted to turn myself in, or just punish myself somehow for it." He gulped, and the muscles in his face twitched, dancing under his skin. "I swallowed a bottle of pills. Turns out it hadn't been enough to kill me. Just put me in a hospital for a week, before my parents sent me to some other hospital for people like me. People who attempted at suicide. I thought death was the worth thing imaginable, but now I realize there are so many more things worse. Like living with this gnawing guilt of having hurt you."

I didn't say anything. I just sat there and listened to him. I didn't feel any sympathy for him, which shocked me a little. Yes, it'd bother me if he did die because of me, but. . . he didn't and I can't bring myself to care. I know he doesn't deserve this, but I didn't think he didn't deserve it either.

"I'm taking my medication again. I see a therapist every other day, to talk about my anger management issues, and the suicidal problem. They're both really helping, and I feel better than I did when I was with you. When I was with you, I was happy, but I still felt a layer of anger buried inside me, just waiting to come out. Now I don't feel that rage. It's controlled.

"Nothing I can say will change what I did. I know that. I admit, I was angry when I found out you told someone, because I thought. . . I don't know what I thought. But I got over it. Isabelle, I can tell she cares about you and she was just looking out for you. She's a good friend to have around, to have your back, and I'm glad you have someone you could talk to too. For me, talking really did help me."

I couldn't help it -- I yawned. I could see it made him upset, but like I said, I was indifferent.

He continued to talk about how sorry he was and how he really has changed, that I made him see the light and crap. It wasn't that I wasn't buying it, I just thought it was all bull. Not a lie, but like. . . it was stupid. Why would I care?

I pretended like I was listening, but after a while I tuned myself out. I kept my face blank, while really I was thinking about a nice cup of coffee. Cinnamon vanilla latte, maybe. It sounded really good right then. I could use it. But the doctors gave me a load of shit and said it was bad for my heart or whatever. I don't care, just give me my damn coffee!

After a while, once Rick had finished, I noticed Isabelle was no longer in the window. Matt was there, but his back was to the glass, as if he were watching something from afar. Distantly, I could hear the faintest trace of a noise coming from outside the room, as if something were happening outside, but it was hard to tell whether I was imagining it or not.

Rick was clearly waiting for a response to what he said, but I had nothing to say. So what I did, was I stood up (I'd been feeling stronger and better the more I rested) and gestured for Rick to stand too. With hope glittering in his eyes, he looked down on me, but I just ushered him towards the door.

"Rick, honestly, I have nothing to say. I don't know what you want me to say. There's nothing I can say. It's over, Rick. It's been over for a long time. But. . . thank you. If you hadn't come back I'd still be terrified of everything. But now. . . I can finally move on with my life and just live in the present, instead of being stuck in the past. I think I forgive you, but it doesn't change anything. I don't think we should ever see anything of each other again."

Rick nodded sadly, stuffing his hands into his blue hospital pants. When I first saw him, and I saw his nose, I immediately understood what Isabelle had meant. She had a broken hand, he had a broken nose. It was simple. She'd beat him up for me. For me.

I had to tell her. I had to tell her how much she meant to me and that I was sorry for all these mixed signals. Maybe we could be friends, close friends. Just not anything more, for Matt's sake. Maybe once he and her broke up, I'd have my chance. I doubt they'd get married in the future. I could have my chance one day. Just not today.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, smiling cockily. "You know, for old time's sake." He winked at me, and I actually did laugh. I shook my head at him, though not in response to his question. He was such a little kid sometimes, with his pouting eyes and quirky eyes.

Why not?

So I said, "Okay."

And so he leaned down on to me, and I couldn't help but smile. I wasn't scared of him anymore. I was free. I felt good, for the first time in a long time. I felt happy. Not because of him, but because a part of me deep down I never would have been close to moving on if it hadn't been for Isabelle.

He kissed me, and it was bland. I peaked my eyes open, but he was so deeply lost in the kiss, I let it last a little longer. Now I felt a little bad for him.

And that's when, from over Rick's shoulder, I saw the door swing open, and Isabelle was there. Her eyes were even more red and puffy then when I saw her this morning, and when I saw her in the window she'd looked fine. Well, as close to fine as she could be after the shit I put her through.

NO! I screamed mentally as I saw the tears build in her eyes, and the agonizing, torturous pain bleeding through her features. Her jaw dropped, and she stared at me with a look of betrayal.

I pushed Rick away from me, who stood there dumbfounded.

"Isabelle, it isn't what you think. You don't understand!" I closed the gap between us, weaving around Rick, and grabbed a hold of her hands to stop her from turning away. She just shook me off, shutting her eyes tightly as she started crying.

This can't be happening.

I wanted to tell her to stop fighting with me and just hold still, to just let me explain. We weren't together, we'd never actually committed to each other or anything, but we still had that undeniable connection that meant something to the both of us. And now she thought I meant nothing to her. Especially after this morning where I shrieked at her to stop.

This is all wrong.

I never got the chance to, because she shook her head, pulling her wrists out of my hands. "No." She was backing away already, still shaking her head in disbelief. The way she looked at me now, it was all different. "No Sarah." God fucking dammit! Why did she have to say my name like that? Like I was the most precious thing in the world, but had just been stolen away from her forever. "I understand perfectly."

And then she was gone, dashing down the halls and passed Matt and passed the doctors. I could see in every step she took she had no destination. She just wanted as far away from me as possible.

I sank onto the floor, and banged my head against the wall repeatedly. I was reciting every single swear I knew like a maniac.

"What just happened?"

I had forgotten Rick was still here. I blinked open my eyes. He now sat cross-legged on the floor in front of me, watching me curiously as if I were a science project of his, but it was bad for nature and he was one of those environmentalists.

Why bother lie? It didn't make a difference. I'd never see him again.

"I think I love my brother's girlfriend," I stated simply.

Rick sighed, blinking rapidly. He just stared at the wall behind me for a while, deep in thought. I knew he wasn't homophobic or anything, because he never seem bothered or disgusted when we watched a program and a scene with a homosexual couple came on. Rick had always acted as if they were just a boy and a girl, like the gender didn't matter. And he was right. It didn't.

At last, he looked me in the eyes seriously, and said "Well, that changes things a bit."

Sixteen
chapter sixteen: Isabelle (Lost in You)

I haven't seen Sarah or Matt in a week. I've ignored Matt's calls, and Sarah's. I deleted their texts without even reading them, erasing the voice mails without listening to them. Matt would ask about my mom. Sarah would want to tell me that she wanted Rick and not me.

I didn't spend any time at home. I mostly took Nathan out to do whatever, and avoided my mom. I had no where to go, and I just needed some time. Time to think and decide what I wanted to do. Maybe it'd be easier this way. She was with someone she wanted now, someone she had history with and someone she had memories with. Rick was someone she knew. Maybe now she actually liked the boy she was with, I could get over her and be happy with Matt. But. . . I couldn't face him. He'd ask what happened with Sarah that made me run out. He'd want to know who Sydney is. He'd want to know what's wrong with my mom. What's wrong with my family. What's wrong with me. And I'd have to remember. It'd make me search through all those painful memories and think about it and I'd have to dive back into all the pain and regret.

It was difficult, not picking up the phone or responding to their texts. It was tempting to go running back to the both of them. To kiss Sarah sensually in a bathroom and then come out and spend time with Matt. It was hard to resist not to do everything I could to have them both.

I didn't bother to tell you about that week, because nothing happened. Literally. Nothing interesting or intense. Just endless series of movements with no meaning behind them at all. But I chose today, the Saturday before Halloween, because that's the day Matt showed up at my door, just happening to catch me during the split five minutes I was actually home.

"You're avoiding me," he greeted, handing over a Starbucks coffee. I gratefully took it, all the while eyeing him apologetically. The guilt was worse than ever, now that I could actually see his charming smile.

"I know. I'm sorry."

Matt shook his head, stepping closer to me.

The weather had lightened up since last week, the skies clearing and the temperature rising partially. Of course it was just for the time being. Winter would take over eventually, drowning the world in a freeze and suffocating the warmth out of us all.

"You shouldn't be sorry. I understand why you have been. But I'm not going to ask you about what happened at the hospital. That's your business, and if you feel comfortable telling me, I'm here to listen. I'll always be here for you, Isabelle." And then he leaned forward, closing the thin gap between our sparked bodies and sliding his lips onto mine. His right hand dug into my hair and he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. I didn't even think this was actually happening, because it was just too perfect. He was too great. I didn't deserve him.

I didn't deserve either of them.

"Thank you," I mumbled into his mouth. I felt his lips smile against mine.

And then, he took me by even more surprise. It hasn't even been that long since we started dating, but he still said it. "I love you."

And you know what I said? "I love you too, Matt."

***

After an awkward (yet comfortable at the same time) lunch was shared with Matt at Dunkin' Donuts. I was never one for fast food places, but they always were the cheapest, so over the years I found myself ending up at them a lot. Though when I was with Matt, we usually ate in at his place, or went to a place like Olive Garden. I hated seeing him pay every time, even though money grew on trees for him, so I sometimes was able to convince him to let us split the check. Anyway, so my lunch consisted of a bagel with cream cheese and a water. It tasted like nothing to me, just stiff and dry as I swallowed it down my throat. I still needed to patch things up with Sarah, if I even wanted to, and figure out what is I want. She's right to give me those looks for not bothering trying to decide (or giving it my all). But she's made it perfectly clear that choosing her would be a waste of time because she'd reject me for the sake of Matt. Not to sound cocky or anything, but I didn't see him breaking up with me anytime soon.

I was reluctant at first when he invited me over. I don't think he noticed, but if he had, I have no idea what he'd think my reason was. Sarah wasn't exactly Ms. Touchy Feely, and wouldn't have told him some lie that we got into a fight or anything at the hospital, something to cover up for my behaviour when I left. Though I suppose he could assume I wanted to be alone after the scene with my ungainly mother.

In the end, my lips were pointing down into a frown as Matt led me through the doorway, and I averted my eyes from the place I'd caught Sarah when she fell.

"What are you doing for Halloween?" he asked me over his shoulder. We emerged into the kitchen, which was fortunately deserted. His parents would most likely be working, while Sarah would be making out with Rick in her room probably. Lucky bastard.

Shut up, I snapped at myself.

Matt handed me a bottled water from the fridge, and I nodded my thanks. I stood on the other side of the island, propping my elbows on the counter while I unscrewed the top. "Um, Nathan's going to a birthday party, and I'm a little old for trick-or-treating, so nothing. Why?"

"Do you wanna do something?"

"As long as it's not a party." Those celebrations always involved a limitless supply of booze where girls took it as a chance to dress like a slut without being called one, and guys used it to shove vodka down other girls' throats and grind their crotch against a random slut's ass on the dance-floor. Tell me, please, what is the appeal? But Matt's the quarterback of the football team, and I'm class president, whereas I'd spent the first two years in high school being a cheerleader. Popularity might as well be written on our files, though I had no interest in it. I wouldn't mind being a year younger, that girl that only has one friend. If that girl happened to be Sarah, it wouldn't really be a burden. Anyway, point being, we were most likely expected to go to someone's party, or to throw one.

Matt chuckled, and nodded. "I know, you hate those kind of things. I was thinking more along the lines of. . . scary movie at an IMAX theater, and then doing whatever we feel like in that area?"

Now that's what I'm talking about. Who doesn't love seeing people get chased around by saw-yielding psycho's? It's undeniably enjoyable. That is, until a cute animal dies, then it's just the worst movie of all time.

I smiled delightedly, and leaned across the counter to kiss him. "I think that'd be great. Just the two of us?"

Matt started tracing patterns on my hand, the one with the cast, sending shocks jolting up my forearm. I shivered at his touch, and Matt smiled at my reaction. "If it's okay, I was thinking of inviting Sarah. Her friend, Jane, is going to a party with her boyfriend, and she doesn't like those kind of things either. I wanted to ask you first before we invited her."

I kept my eyes glued to his hand against mine, doing everything I could not to show the dread building inside of me. I had to sound like I wouldn't mind, but at the same time find some loophole so she wouldn't come. I wanted her to come desperately, but I wouldn't be able to face her. "Don't you think she'll feel like the third wheel?"

"She can invite David if she wants. She's got him whipped, he'd cancel any plans for her."

I frowned, and finally looked up at him. He too tore his eyes away from our entwining hands and met my gaze. "She's not with Rick?"

"Why would she be with Rick? You were right, she said it was pointless seeing him. I think she told him they should go their separate ways and move on or something. She told me she wanted me to thank you for everything you did, and I couldn't agree more. Isabelle, you were amazing." Matt's eyes were saying everything his words were, and more. "I don't know what I would have done without you. My parent's are also really grateful."

I shook my head modestly. "It was nothing, really."

So. . . she told Rick to leave? Then why did she kiss him? I guess he could have kissed her, but when I came in she didn't seem like she was on the verge of pushing him away. That still wouldn't make it any easier to see her. Okay, maybe a little bit, but still. I showed her too much when I saw them. I opened up too much that day, and she just wasn't returning it all. I felt pathetic.

Matt kissed me again, and then asked again if it was okay if she came. Maybe this was my real opportunity to get used to seeing David with Sarah. It might get me over whatever it is that terrorizes my mind day and night. Maybe I should talk to her first though.

I told him it was fine if she came.

Later in the day, when I was getting ready to leave, I passed Sarah's bedroom. The door was cracked open, as usual, and I could see her laughing insanely as David tickled her. I noticed her hair was a lot shorter, like majorly. She must have cut off half a foot, and not to mention she had blue streaks also. I hadn't known he was at the house the entire time I'd been watching a movie and cuddling up with Matt in his room, but now that I could see the two of them laughing it up, I felt my face drop.

I heard Sarah say something about needing to use the bathroom or something after kissing David, who whined playfully at her departure. She giggled at him (since when does Sarah giggle?) and when she was out in the hall, I had ducked into the nearest room. It wasn't until she threw open the door that I realized I had slipped into the bathroom.

I am so fucking retarded.

Seventeen
chapter seventeen: Sarah (Unbeautiful)

"Hey Isabelle, it's me. . . again. I think this must be the hundredth message I've left you, and I don't even know if you've listened to any of them. Um, I really want to talk to you about what happened with Rick at the hospital, but I guess you're avoiding me. Matt says you're avoiding him too, and so I wanted to know if everything was okay. You know, just to make sure you didn't get kidnapped by some psychopath and you're lying in the bottom of a pit in the middle of nowhere with a fork in your neck or something. Okay, I'm sounding really stupid now, so I'm gonna hang up. Call me when you get the chance, please. I need to know what happened between us. Um. . . I. . . I miss you." I clicked the phone off, groaning inwardly at myself. I probably sounded so stupid and pathetic. She wasn't my girlfriend, it was Matt's job to worry about her, not the annoying little sister who just had a heart attack and let the guy that tried to kill her kiss her.

I sent a quick text to Isabelle saying the shortened version and less embarrassing of the voicemail I just left her, before tossing it onto my bed. I paced my rooms, running my hands through my hair. Since I last saw Rick and he made the comment about my hair, I'd made an appointment at the hair salon and had them cut it into a choppy bob. I thought, what the hell, and threw in some lightning-blue highlights. Minus the new color, it was exactly as it had been in the summer. Except I think maybe it had been at my shoulders, and not my chin. Whatever, I liked the change, and it was all edgy and different. I needed different.

Crushing on your brother's girlfriend isn't different enough for you?

David didn't like it. I think he made some joke about he liked having something to pull on when we were making out, but I think he was just quoting The Ugly Truth. I was never looking for his approval anyway. This wasn't for Rick, or Isabelle or Matt, or any of them. Chopping off my hair was for me.

I couldn't help but snicker when someone at school said the hair made me look like "a slutty dyke."

If they only knew.

Matt liked it, though. He ruffled my hair and said I was right to do something a little different. Something about being proud I was moving on from the heart attack. Yea, bullshit. What are we, like, twenty? Damn, that's old. Oh shit, I'm turning twenty in four years. Bleh.

Any-fucking-ways, so a couple days and million voice mails/text messages later, I was making out with David in my room. What? I was warming up to him. Why not let him reach second base and have something to fantasize about when I broke up with him. Which is going to happen after Halloween, by the way. In case you were wondering.

"I'm sorry again for not seeing you at the hospital," David mumbled into my mouth, half-breaking the kiss. His lips were still touching mine, and I could feel the lust buzzing in his mouth. He was practically drooling with it.

"It's okay, you didn't know," I breathed, still managing to sound seductive. Yea, I'm just cool like that. If you disagree, I still don't give a shit.

After a while, I got bored with making out with a guy I felt I had no chemistry with, and somehow directed the little "session" to getting him to tickle me. I think it started with me offending him, so his way of getting payback was making me sound like I was still in a freaking junior high romance. Bastard.

"No, David! Stop it!" I shrieked at him, slapping away his hands playfully while the laughter bubbled out of me and filled the room. Dammit, him and his tingly fingers. Whoa. Does that sound perverted to you? "Listen, lemme go to the bathroom, and you can have you way with me." I winked at him over my shoulder, letting him dream, and strode out the door with my chin up like ma nose was bleeding.

I sighed after shutting my door closed. My smile faded, while I pressed my hand to my chest. I was exhausted, like I just ran a marathon. I felt like I could sleep forever. Maybe splashing some water in my face would help.

I swung open the bathroom door, and the light spilled out into the gloomy hallway. The difference in lighting took a second to adjust, and when I did, a second or two later, that's when I saw Isabelle standing in the doorway, looking mortified.

Before I could say anything, or come up with something not as lame as "Why didn't you call me back?" her hand grabbed mine and she yanked me into the bathroom with her, slamming the door behind us. I smirked at her, shooing away the feelings of fatigue. Once I got over the initial surprise of seeing her, I tried my best not to come off as immensely relieved at seeing her. "What is it with you and bathrooms? Whatever, I think it's kinky."

Isabelle only glared at me, and stalked away to the farthest part of the bathroom. "You just love toying with me, don't you?" she spat.

"Well someone's got their panties in a knot."

"Shut up."

I slapped myself mentally. Didn't I decide I was going to talk to her? To just creak open a little bit and let the tiniest amount of emotion shine through? While I had this inner argument with myself about getting me to open up, Isabelle rolled her eyes and headed to the door behind me. When she was lined up with me, her hand on the handle, I stopped her, putting my hand on her shoulder.

"Don't go. Please. Can we talk?"

Her glare resurfaced, and for what felt like years we stood there in a bathroom, my hand on her shoulder as we stared deeply into each other's eyes. I couldn't help but try and count all the specks of gold in her eyes.

"What, not in the mood to make out and ditch me again?" she snapped sarcastically.

Now it was my turn to glare at her. "Not funny."

"I didn't say it was."

When I remained silent as I ran over all my options of different things I could say, different ways to explain what needed to be said, she merely rolled her eyes again. "I'm really liking this conversation."

I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes. I couldn't say what I wanted to say with her looking at me like that. It was an unfair advantage. "I'm sorry for the hot and cold treatment I've been giving you. You were there for me at the hospital and you even got into a fight with Matt because you didn't want Rick to be anywhere near me. You broke your hand for me, and I've just been pushing you away." My breath was shaking, and I almost opened my eyes, but I kept them firmly shut. I could hear Isabelle's breath, even and hot against my face. Maybe she had moved closer, or I was just so aware of everything when I was alone with her. "I'm always going to be the type of person to open up and then shut down and push people away and act like I don't care. That's just who I am. I was like that before I even met Rick. I've just never met anyone to give me any reason so change that, to make me feel guilty for putting them through so much crap." I gulped.

"I know you told Rick to go," she said quietly.

At last, I opened my eyes. I was right, she was closer to me now, inches even. Her eyes were trailing along my body, undressing me in her mind.

"He kissed me and I just felt bad so I let him. I forgave him, because of you. You were what told me I need to move on from the past and just pay attention to what's right in front of me. But. . ."

"But we still can't be together," she finished for me. We were both thinking of Matt now.

"Yea. Um, I don't want you out of my life, though." I couldn't stand the tension between us, and so I brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, out of her pretty face. She finally looked into my eyes, that way she had been in the bathroom before the blackout. She rested her face in my hand, leaning into it. Her skin. . . it was just so soft and electrical.

"Me neither."

"We can. . . can we be friends? I know that sounds lame, but we can make it work. No, I'm not talking friends with benefits." She smirked at that, and it made me smile too.

"I'd like that."

***

"What do you think of this?" I asked, holding a fake-blood-spattered white bridal dress to my body. I glanced at Isabelle, and she narrowed her eyes.

"Too cliche."

That was always her response. Well, more or less. When I suggested a nurse costume, she said it was too slutty. The Cinderella costume was too boring. Too big. Too plain. Too bleh. Yes, she actually said that.

I glared at her, and she just smiled angelically. I turned away before I could get too caught up in her beauty, choking on my own spit.

"Why are we even here?" I complained. We weren't going to actually buy anything, as she'd said. There'd be no point in dressing up if we were going to see a movie and just do whatever it is we want in the same area. But for whatever reason, Isabelle wanted to come to this Halloween store and watch me try on a bunch of different costumes. It was mainly for juniors, and none if it would fit her with her big breasts and long body. I, however, was small with a flat chest and a boring figure and she found it amusing that I could fit into such small apparel.

Isabelle shrugged, grinning wickedly at me again. "I like watching you dress up."

"That's kinda creepy."

"No," she said seriously, wagging her long, thin finger at me. "It's sexy."

I rolled my eyes, and laughed at her. "I like this. The whole friend thing."

It was the day before Halloween, Friday. After school, I'd gone over to David's house to work on an English project, though we didn't exactly get much work down. I called Matt for a ride home at around six, but he didn't pick up so I ended up calling Isabelle. Jane had been completely giving me the cold shoulder, as if she were upset with me for getting a heart attack and not telling her. She was now hanging out with a new crowd, the stoners. Whenever I saw her she was high, tipsy, or completely wasted. Whatever, I didn't need her. I was always doing her favors and she never returned them, and frankly she could be a bitch sometimes. Anyways, after Isabelle picked me up, I thought she was going to take me home, but she took me here instead.

Since our little talk in the bathroom (that didn't involve any spontaneous lip-locks), we gradually worked out the friend thing. Not too much physical contact, or one of us would get carried away and we would end up flustered and sit in an awkward silence. Not too much flirting, or it would get too dirty and we'd look at each other with lust. It was difficult, but we got used to it. By now, we were able to flirt a little more and be closer together, and I hadn't given her one of my mood swings. It was surprisingly easier than I had expected. But I still couldn't deny I had to look away, my eyes stinging, when Matt kissed her -- or worse -- she kissed him.

"Me too."

David had took almost no convincing when I invited him to the movie. I didn't mention until after he agreed that Matt and Isabelle were also coming, and I could see he was disappointed at not being able to make out during the movie.

"So are you and David good?" Isabelle asked in the car, her eyes glued to the road. From the firm set to her jaw, I could still see she felt the same way I did. I couldn't decide whether that was a bad or good thing. It was weird liking someone as much as I liked her, and knowing she felt the same way, but still both of us holding back.

I nodded, switching the radio station. A Nickelback song purred out of the speakers, and I smirked at the lyrics. "I like the freckles on your chest. And I like the way you like him best. And I like the way you're not impressed when you put me to the test." I couldn't help but glance over at Isabelle, and look down her v-necked shirt. I could make out a few freckles, hardly noticeable, and my smile thickened.

Realizing Isabelle didn't see me nod, I shook my head to clear my head. "Um, yea, we're great. Why wouldn't we be?"

Isabelle shrugged, turning into my driveway. Wow, were we here already? "No reason."

"Thanks again for the ride," I said once she shut off the car. I felt compelled to do something more, but I didn't know what would be overstepping the boundaries of our "agreement."

Isabelle just flashed me a welcoming smile, waving away my gratitude. She leaned a little closer to me, and something told me she didn't even realize she was doing it. Before she could do anything she might regret doing in front of my house where people could see us, I nervously muttered a farewell and stepped out of the care. When I was on the porch, and I looked back, she was still sitting there in the driveway, watching me. When she saw me looking at her, she smiled broadly, and I got butterflies in my stomach. I blinked a few times, realizing she wasn't there anymore. i must have spaced out.

I'd say everything's great, and I'm happy, but. . . I mean yes, I feel good and nothing's going wrong, but nothing's exactly right either. Put it this way, you just don't have any idea how much I wanted to throw myself on top of her and shred off her clothes when she was driving me home. Yea, that kinda tends to suck.

Eighteen
chapter eighteen: Isabelle (Innocence)

"Hey Babe," Matt greeted me as I opened the door to my apartment. I'd left a twenty on Nathan's beside table, and a fifty for Mom. In case you're wondering where I get all this money, it's from the money my dad left me. Something was weird and I got the inheritance from his death (ten years ago) when I turned seventeen. It was fifty thousand dollars, and I immediately decided it'd go towards my college fund and any books and supplies I'd need for school throughout the years. Except since it happened, I'd been forced to take more money out of it every now and then to help pay for the rent and all the bills.

"You ready?"

I grabbed my messenger bag off the couch, and my copy of the house key off the hook. "Now I am. Did you already pick up David?"

He shook his head, curling his arm around my lower waist as we trod down the stairwell. This place needed a damn elevator. I live on the fifth floor for crying out loud. "No, we need to get him. Sarah says she thinks she knows where he lives."

"I know where he is. Want me to drive?"

"Nah, it's cool. Just tell me how to get there. And would you mind sitting in the back with Sarah? I want to talk to David. I haven't had a chance to since we er, interrupted them in the janitor's closet."

My heart fluttered madly. Matt's pickup had a large front, but the back was small and cramped. The idea of being back there alone with Sarah made my skin crawl, but not necessarily in a bad way. "Yea, sure."

An hour later, we were halfway to the theater and Matt and David were talking about football, the Patriots I think, and Sarah and I were attempting at a conversation, but it was a bit awkward since the only room for our legs (Matt had a bunch of crap on the floor) was the seat in the middle, and we both wore shorts, so our skin was touching, rubbing roughly whenever Matt jerked the wheel and we rounded a corner.

"So. . . how bout 'em Red Sox, eh?" Sarah imitated Matt, with a completely terrible redneck accent (do they even have accents?), not to mention she said the wrong team. While Matt glared at her through the rear view mirror, I burst into a fit of laughter at her. I could feel her pearly eyes glistening as she watched me, trying to smother her own laughs.

"That's baseball. Patriots are football," I corrected.

She frowned at me, half-pouting, and said "Boo you, whore."

"Okay Rachel," I said, snickering. I loved it when people quoted Mean Girls, one of the most hilarious movies of all time. Rachel McAdams was brilliant and wickedly hysterical. It definitely got a lot of approval, but I still think it could have deserved way more credit.

"I thought it was the dumb blond that said that?" she said in a questioning tone.

I shook my head. "No, she was the one who could fit her fist into her mouth, and her boobs told her when it was raining."

That was basically the only conversation we had during the two-hour-long drive to the IMAX theater. Sarah complained once or twice why we didn't just go to a regular theater, what was the point in seeing it in 3D or something, and Matt just said this was the kind of movie you apparently had to see in IMAX. Whatever, I didn't care much either way. But really, you'd think after a week of doing this whole friends thing and having it work as good as it's been, that we wouldn't be so jumpy if our skin had to touch in a car ride. I mean, what's the big deal? It's not like we haven't had plenty of our bare skin against each other before. It happened twice, even, as I'm sure you know.

I was a bit too relieved when Matt pulled the car into a parking space, fortunately nearby the entrance. I'm sure Sarah noticed how I practically threw myself at the door and into the fresh air. I raised an eyebrow at Matt and David, who were practically acting like best friends now. Sarah noticed to, and she gave me a funny look while we trailed along behind them, secretly making fun of them. It was one thing for Sarah and I to bond, but I had been expecting a little more something alone the lines of "You touch her, you're dead," between Matt and David. Not all buddy-buddy.

As usual, the theater was expensively priced, reaching the extreme where I was nearly begging Matt to let me pay for myself. "It's hardly even a date with your sister her!" I had said, but Sarah heard me and I saw the hurt sparkle in her eyes for a split second before it vanished. From that point I felt guilty which is how I weakly gave in to Matt's insistence on paying for me. The ticket alone was fifteen bucks. I mean, seriously?

Okay, I'm telling you, if I didn't know any better, I'd say Matt and David knew about the kindling romance between Sarah and I. One second they're laughing and acting like long-lost brothers, the next they're sitting on opposite ends. Matt was sitting on the aisle-seat, I was next to him, then Sarah, and lastly David. So they couldn't be next to each other in a movie? What the hell, see this is why guys aren't my only preference. They're freaking indecisive. Not that girls are much better but whatever.

The creators of the movie, the director and what-not, did a pretty decent job at making the movie insanely creepy and quite terrifying. Current scenes made your stomach lurch and your mouth dry up, while others made you want to be a little kid again and scream for your parents.

Which is why I threw a fit when Matt said he was going to the bathroom during the most terrifying scene of the entire film.

"Don't leave me," I hissed under my breath, trying not to disturb anyone else.

Matt chuckled at me, swiftly leaned in and kissed me in the lips, causing our 3D glasses to clatter against each other, before disappearing down the aisle. I slumped back into my chair, cowering from the screen.

I glanced at Sarah, and she was snuggled up close to David. She saw me looking at her, and grinned wickedly, bragging of having someone during such a horrifying movie. I playfully stuck my tongue at her, but before she could respond David muttered a quick excuse about the bathroom also, and then abandoned us both.

"They're such wimps," Sarah mumbled, frowning as she too fell back into her seat.

I nibbled on my lower lip, pondering what to do. I was definitely one for horror, but I was screaming and jumping all the way through it. You'd think Matt would kill for an excuse to have me be sitting on top of him (practically), but no, he just had to leave me alone with his sister.

Mentally kicking myself in the gut, I slipped my hand under the armrest and found Sarah's hand, entwining my fingers around hers. Her skin was warm, and I could almost feel the blood racing under her skin. Sarah's eyes met mine nervously, and I could tell she was thinking "What the fuck is she doing?"

I shrugged, and plastered on a flirty smirk. "We don't need them."

I swear to God, I didn't mean it like that. It wasn't some reference to the entire situation with me being head-over-heels in love with her, while also having fallen for her brother. I just meant it about the movie! I could tell Sarah thought I meant it differently, because something sparkled in her eyes against the flare from the screen, but she just gave a light squeeze to my hand.

I don't know how long we sat like that. Even after Matt and David returned, we still had our fingers locked together under the armrest, out of sight of the two boys.

I think I zoned out of the movie after that, because I couldn't stop staring at Sarah. I smiled or laughed when she did, smirked when she looked terrified and gave another squeeze to her hand. I didn't care if she saw me watching, she was just too adorable.

After the movie ended, I was disappointed at feeling Sarah's small fingers lace out of mine and she stood up, ushering us to hurry up. Something about how she hated having to wait behind a bunch of slow nimrods to get out of the theater when a movie ended escaped her lips.

"So what do we do now?" I asked as the four of us emerged into the parking lot. Matt's arm was around my waist, his hands fiddling with the fingers on my casted arm, while David and Sarah mirrored our image. They were pretty cute, actually, and I'd say so if the sight didn't boil my blood with rage.

"I saw an arcade up the road?" Matt suggested.

"Yea! And let's go see Barney after that," Sarah squealed sarcastically.

"She has a point," I agreed. "It is kind of childish."

Matt pretended to be highly offended, the whole holding the hand to the chest deal and everything. "No, it's like the teenage version of Chuckie Cheese."

"Okay, you are so not my brother," Sarah commented, steering David slightly in another direction away from Matt and I. Even though she was kidding, I couldn't help but get an odd feeling in my stomach at her trying to get away from me. Hadn't she practically admitted once that she didn't even like David much? What happened to her calling me stupid and slamming me up against a wall?

We ended up at a pizza parlor half an hour later, laughing like any ordinary group of friends. I saw a few times in Sarah's eyes that this was new and different for her, that she wasn't used to having times out like these. I did my best at making her feel comfortable, but I think that just made it more tense between us.

Another hour passed by where we pigged out on pizzas in our own little booth, and somehow once we left the restaurant (after David and Matt split the check) Sarah wound up dumpster diving, with her cute little ass sticking up in the air, her legs flailing. I heard her curse and scream when she disappeared inside the great green bin. For a while we all just stood there, listening to her clamber around in there (it was the recycling, so all that was in there was paper and cardboard) and curse at us for not helping her. It wasn't until David pulled her out and she let out a surprised yelp and screamed at Matt, that I realized she hadn't intentionally gone in there.

It was a weird way to spend Halloween, definitely. The day wasn't anywhere even near over. It was only four in the afternoon, and Matt had told me to clear my schedule for the entire day, up until midnight. But I wouldn't have picked any different people to spend it with. Other than David, of course.

"Can we please just check out?" Matt pleaded after scooping me up over his shoulder and dashing through some sprinklers, very much against my protests. My hair was damp, as was my jeans and jacket.

"Check what out?" I asked, squeezing water out of my hair.

"The arcade."

"No," Sarah responded.

"Please?"

"Forget it, butch."

You'd think it would be Matt bossing Sarah around, and not vice versa. Matt was pretty cute when he begged and acted like a little kid, but Sarah was firm in deciding they wouldn't go to the arcade.

So don't ask me how half an hour later we wound up standing inside a significantly large room, the size of Matt's house, listening to beeping of machines, squeals of children, the spitting of ticket dispensers, and the clatter of tokens rattling in cups. There was a bathroom to our immediate left (I snickered at Sarah, and jutted my chin towards it. She cracked an amused smile), a counter directly in front of us with numerous prizes (stuffed animals, candy, electronics, etc) enormous, and I'm talking doubling in life-size, stuffed animals were on a shelf to our right, right next to the register where a guy with a shaved head and a nose piercing stood, looking bored.

"I can't believe you," Sarah muttered under her breath at Matt, thought he was too far away to hear her. He was at the register with David, buying a bunch of tokens and paying for an hour of laser tag (I'm not kidding). Apparently there was bumper cars, jousting, laser tag, and boxing with over-sized gloves in this place.

"Hey, it's not too bad," I lied, putting my arm around her shoulders. Friends do that, right?

Sarah eyed me wearily, looking at my arm, but I pretended I didn't notice.

I'd hate to bore you with the details of how Sarah and I gradually turned into little kids again and ran around the place, stuffing tokens into anything appealing. There was one thing where two people sit in these seats, and there's a screen, along with surround-sound, to make you think you were riding a roller coaster. The seats tilted and vibrated at the perfect times, and the screen was 3D, so it was actually pretty life-like.

I paid for Sarah and I to try the jousting, and so the pierced guy took us to what I thought was a bounce house before. He gave us the padded helmets boxers use, and handed each of us jousting sticks. They weighed a ton, practically twenty pounds, and it was amusing watching Sarah struggle with it. The jousting, all it was was you tried to knock your opponent off a beanbag-like stand. It was a pretty fair match, since Sarah was small for her age while I had a broken hand in a cast.

Anyway, so I don't get too caught up in describing all the meaningless stuff, nothing really special happened until we did the laser tag.

"'Codename'?" Sarah asked, staring at the sheet of paper we were supposed to fill out if we wanted to participate in laser tag.

"Just put like. . . Regina George," I said, peaking over at her paper. Then I frowned. "Since when do you live at 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney?"

Sarah shrugged, scribbling her name down. Except it wasn't her name, and instead she was writing Bill Gates. Where she was supposed to check female or male, she'd created a new option, Hermaphrodite, and checked it off. I recognized the phone number, but I couldn't quite place who it belonged to.

"Who's number is that?"

"The school's."

My codename was Hermione (what? Nathan talked about the books a lot), and when I looked over at Matt's paper, I saw his was Lifehouse. I secretly hoped we didn't have to all have the same codename, that it was actually a team name or something, but whatever.

Dammit, I'm dragging on boring details.

Lemme fast forward to the part where he gave us our vests with the lit up power boxes, and a chord attached to a laser gun. He showed us how to use it, and then asked how we wanted to be put into teams. I ended up with Matt, while Sarah was with David.

Okay you probably might not care about that part either.

The guy shoved us into a dark room with two levels. A ramp was on the side of the room we were at now, and another one on the other end. The entire place was glowing with red and green lights, and the ceiling was lined with the ultra-violet lights. Everywhere, sticking out of the floor, were small randomly placed walls, glowing either red or green. Our team was red, there's was green.

Fast forward a little more to the part where we started the game, and I was silently gliding along the carpeted floor. I held the gun to my chest, my finger lightly resting on the trigger. I could hear David and Matt in a fight on the level below me, but Sarah was no where in sight.

Then the next thing I knew I was shoved into a corner with less glowing lights, nearly pitch black, and pressed up against the wall. A hand crawled over my mouth, blocking out my cry of "What the fuck are you doing?" That's when I saw I was looking down into light blue eyes, filled with amusement and seduction. Sarah held her finger up to her lips, signalling me to be quiet. That's when the hand over my mouth slithered away, inching down my throat and along my body, curving behind my lower back, then back to my side and trailing down my thigh, ever so slowly moving inward.

"W-what are you d-doing?" I stammered, trying to keep my breath steady and calm, but even I could tell I sounded panicked. Sarah smirked at me, her teeth eerily glistening a light purple in the light.

"I want you," she whispered in my ear, our cheeks brushing against each other. I thought my heart would fall out of my chest when she snipped at my ear with her teeth lightly. Her breath was hot down my neck, and I shivered. My pulse was racing, the blood pounding harder than ever in my ears. A cold sweat dribbled down my back while my hands were clammy, my fingers slipping on the gun and it fell to my side, hanging by the wire that connected it to the vest.

". . . to give me some extra points," Sarah finished, swiftly backing away and pulling the trigger, aiming the barrel square at the light box strapped to my chest. Immediately the microphone in my ear started exploding saying I was under attack in a terrible robotic English accent, while the points were shooting up on Sarah's vest. She cackled wickedly, dashing behind a wall before I could come back to my senses. She had her gun pointed around the edge of the wall, shooting aimlessly in my general direction. Cursing madly, I ducked behind my own wall, which was too far away for my liking.

"You little tease!" I called out, glancing at my points. They had shot way down, and I knew Matt would be upset if we lost. So I did the best thing I could, and gave her a taste of her own medicine.

I dropped the gun to my side, stepping out into the open. I could still hear David and Matt in their quarrel below us, distant. Sarah stared at me, wondering what I was doing, but continued to shoot at me, backing away furiously as I got closer and closer to her. After a moment she stopped in her tracks, her finger retracting on the trigger.

And then her face was in my hands and my lips were moving softly with hers. I could feel her lips pulsating against mine, her heart beating roughly against her rib cage as I pressed her body to mine, my hands going around her back. I could feel her practically toss the gun away and she threw her arms around my neck, standing on her toes to kiss me better. I slipped my tongue passed her lips, twisting it around hers and exploring her mouth. She was practically exploding with excitement, and it felt as if an electric current were dashing through our sweaty bodies. Running around in this place tends to make you hot. As in overheated, but since we're on the topic, can I just say Sarah looks excruciatingly sexy dashing around behind walls and kicking my ass. My hands crawled up her back to dig into her extremely short-cropped hair. I didn't want to get too emotionally caught up in this, because I knew I was just using it as a distraction. But man. . . it's been too long since we kissed. Too much has happened since we last have connected out mouths.

But I need to focus. This is a distraction, not a time to let myself fall more in love than I already was. More for my pleasure, but also to make her head go haywire, I sucked gently on her tongue, and took my right hand away from her back, letting it fall to her hip. As she moaned longingly into my mouth, I slipped my fingers into her jeans, feeling the bare warm skin of her thigh, and the edge of. . . is she wearing a thong? That sexy little devil. . .

And then I snatched at her gun with my other hand, and aimed both at her chest. Her points dropped drastically from being shot by her own gun and mine, while mine rose excessively. I had hit fifteen thousand points by the time Sarah realized what was going on, while she was at a mere six thousand now.

"How does it feel?" I whispered into her ear after dropping her gun, and grazed her ear lobe with my teeth also. "Amazing, isn't it?"

Nineteen
chapter nineteen: Sarah (Anywhere But Here)

"We totally kicked ass," Matt cheered, pumping his fist in the air, while his other arm was -- as usual -- around Isabelle. Her cheeks burned when she caught me watching her, and an apologetic look washed over her. I was still buzzing from the kiss, adrenaline pumping my veins. I'd give anything to be back there with her hand down my pants and her tongue in my mouth. But I'd also give it all to have never met her in the first place.

"Yep, you did," I agreed, looking away.

Matt let go of Isabelle for a moment, and gave me a half hug, his arm around my neck as he ruffled my hair. "Whatever, Slut, don't be a party pooper. Admit it, it was great."

"Yea, it was." Stealing a swift look at Isabelle, the corner of my lip twitched up in a half-smile. "I had a good time today. Did you?"

I had pulled away from Matt and snuggled into David's arms. I was really starting to like him. Not the same way I did with Isabelle, but like a best friend. Or I guess technically it was friends with benefits for me.

He bent down and kissed me sensually, but it was dull compared to the taste of Isabelle still lingering tauntingly on my lips. Bland and inconvenient, while she was breathtakingly mesmerizing and stunning. But his kiss, an attempt at dumbfounding me, was still enough to tell me his answer.

Twenty minutes later and we're back in Matt's car, and my legs were tangled with Isabelle's. My head was leaning thoughtfully against the tinted window, and my eyelids were falling down over my eyes.

"Are you tired?"

I forced my eyes open, and Isabelle was sitting up straight, well as straight as can be with our limbs entwined. She had found a blanket, and it was draped lazily over her, ending halfway up her stiff stomach. My face gave away the answer, because she gestured for me to lay against her. I was reluctant at first, wondering what Matt would think if he saw us. But. . . friends can lay against each other when they're tired, so it's no biggie. I guess. I hesitantly turned my body, twisting under my seat belt until my head was laying against her side. She'd pulled the blanket over us, and her arm was around me, her fingers drumming lightly against my bare arm, sending shocks through me.

I let my eyes close, trying to enjoy this and stop being so paranoid for once. It almost worked, until Isabelle's casted hand started playing with my hair, as if she were grooming me; her touch was soft and delicate.

Shaking away my fear of everything, I nudged my head closer to Isabelle, pulling my legs up more and wrapping my arms around her waist. It was heaven having our bodies warmly laced together in such a quiet embrace, without all of the lust taking over and controlling the situation.

An hour passed, but it was impossible for me to easily slip into a dream-like state and escape reality, to find a place where there were no boundaries and laws restricting me from everything. I distantly listened to David and Matt speak. They were talking movies now, and which sappy romance ones were worth watching for your girlfriend, and which of them was crossing the line.

Laying against Isabelle in silence (other than the low voices in the front seat) was like having our own conversation, repeating everything we'd been afraid to say for so long, and were still terrified of acting on. But we always wound up the same problem, the same thing holding it all back and not letting all the pieces just fall together. But the ride was still enjoyable. Just having her arms around me made it all better.

Her arm was still along my shoulder, and I tightened my grip around her. I wanted to be as close to her as ethically possible. Since it was the general direction I was facing, it was a tad difficult to not stare at her practically-glowing, elegant breasts. Which is basically the non perverted way of saying I was staring at her boobs and trying not to be so turned on.

It was all good, everything as perfect as it was ever going to get, until it felt as if a thousand shards of glass were stabbing me in the gut, and dread swarmed over me like a tsunami. I felt Isabelle's curious eyes bore into me as I abruptly sat upright, glancing around me in the vehicle. In the falling darkness, my eyes took in a million things at once. The cocky smirk on David's face. The lacrosse stick loosely placed next to Matt, jutting upwards at an awkward angle towards him. The frown deepening in his eyes, surrounding his facial features. The faint screech of tire against tar, stretching on impossibly long. And then all I saw was the semi (those extremely big trucks) swerving along the road, no friction against the invisible black ice on the highway, making its ungainly way towards our pickup. Metal crunched against metal, shrill screams were torn from out throats, and the smell of burning congested our nostrils.

The next thing I knew we were airborne, and gravity was tugging at me from the opposite way it had been before. We were sailing through the air, upsided own. And then the car collapsed in a heap on the side of the road, impossibly loud, with pain exploding in my head. The last things I saw before it all went black behind my eyes for the second time was blood being splattered, an agonized wail sounding from in front of the car, and Isabelle diving over me, shielding me from another automobile as it rammed into us on Matt's and Isabelle's side.

Twenty
chapter twenty: Sarah (Anywhere But Here)

My eyes painfully blinked open, blurry fluorescent lights clicking into place. The ceiling lights were swimming away from me out of view, and various faces were shouting orders over me, the meaningless words floating in midair.

I didn't realize I was in the hospital until pairs of strong arms lifted me off the gurney and onto a hospital bed. Chaos surrounded me everywhere. Dozens of people were being wheeled around, some only bearing minor cuts and bruises, while others had blood gushing out of them, dripping onto the floor. People were screaming and sobbing into the air, limbs twisted at impossible angles, and doctors rushing around, trying to tend to everyone.

"What. . . what happened?" I asked to no one in particular. My voice sounded just like Isabelle's had when I first saw Rick: muffled and far away. It was different this time. I wasn't afraid or anything, just baffled and surprised.

I glanced down at my body, but nothing seemed wrong. I wasn't swimming in my own blood, and my arms and legs all looked in tact. I was one of the few people in this place without any serious injury. I was, however, the only person not shrieking or terrorized by the sight around me. My shirt was soaked with a thick, dark liquid, but it wasn't expanding as if it were coming from underneath.

It wasn't my blood.

I swung my feet over the edge of the bed, trying to get up. It wasn't like I was incapable of it, it's just strangers' hands flew out of the oblivion, pressing me back down.

"I'm fine!" I insisted, pushing them away.

It was true. I only felt a dull ache on my bones and a slight stinging from the various cuts. All in all, compared to everyone else, I was the best case scenario from the result of. . .

It all flooded back, even though it had only been twenty to thirty minutes ago. The cars smashing into each other, crunching into nothing as if they were just made of paper. The screams, the fear, the screeches, it all slapped at my face and numb mind. It was like dipping me into a bucket of ice-cold water, sharpening everything. I don't know how else to describe it.

"They need you more than I do!" I shouted at the three doctors tending to me. They were surprised by me, but didn't move, continuing to stitch up the gashes in my legs and arms and forehead.

And then I saw an unconscious figure draped over a bed, her dark hair spilling around her like a halo. Shards of glass clung to her clothing, and even larger ones were stuck in to her body at random placements.

This time I was more rough and harsher as I hopped off the ER bed, shoving the doctors our of the way. I wove around people, pushing passed them with my eyes still glued to that figure the entire time. Even though she was so peacefully (not really, but whatever) unconscious, every time the doctors touched her and tried to help her, a ripple would swim through her, making the wounds deep. It was as if she were unintentionally cringing away from their touch because it hurt, but getting herself more beat up along the way.

"Isabelle," I breathed, reaching her side and clasping my blood-crusted hands around hers. The doctors snapped at me to leave, but I wouldn't budge. After a second they stopped and just stared at me. I think they were realizing that I was the first person to touch her without causing her to move more and make the bleeding worse.

And then her eyes flickered open, and they met mine. For what felt like minutes on end, it was just me and her, with no one else around us. Just me and her, with her hand inside mine and her golden brown eyes gazing up at me. But then raw agony rolled through her face and it was all anyone could see in her features. She screamed bloody murder, her voice curdling in the ER. Blood seeped out faster from the wounds, and they were trying to get her to calm down once again.

Ignoring the frustrated and aggravated orders of the doctors as they yelled at someone to get me out of there, I rushed up closer to Isabelle's face, cupping it in my hands.

"Hey, it's okay," I cooed gently, keeping my voice level and calm, cheerful even. I smiled comfortingly at her, knowing it was the kind of smile that made her world spin. I knew because hers had the exact same effect on me, probably even more intense. "Isabelle, it's okay. I know it hurts like a bitch, but please, just calm down and relax. If you don't it's going to hurt more. Please, Izzy."

Her eyes were wet, and tears were streaming down her bloody face, but at least she was keeping still; more or less. Someone injected her with something, and I could see the hazy look in her eyes. She was falling asleep. The doctors were shouting about taking her into surgery, something about internal bleeding.

And then I kissed her. Right there, in front of bleeding faces and pale doctors, I pushed between them, bent over Isabelle's shredded body, and pressed my lips to hers. I dug my hand into her hair, feeling more specks of glass tangled into it. The sharp pieces lashed at my hand, cutting into my skin, but I didn't care. All that mattered was Isabelle was weakly kissing me back, her lips moving with mine. My stomach fluttered and where our skin met, mine tingled, like a kindling flame.

The kiss was too short, but I had to pull away eventually. The doctors were exchanging these looks, as if they knew something I didn't, but then they were gone, leaving me standing there alone, surrounded by screams.

I spun around, and immediately my eyes fell on a gurney holding a tall boy, shrieking his head off. They were already rushing him into a room down the hall, and a metal rod was jutting out of his stomach, the right side. Blood was spattering everywhere, spurting from the intense wound, and my own stomach clenched. The boy was screaming at the top of his lungs. It seemed impossible anyone could be doing their job with so much noise. The boy lolled his head to the side towards me, and I could see his face, soaked with his own blood. His mouth was gaping, his face twisted into a look of terror, and I knew him. I knew the boy with the lacrosse stick implanted in his abdomen.

It was Matt.

Just as this sudden realization hit me, he was gone, having disappeared behind automatic doors. Just as he left, I saw David get wheeled in. An ugly gash lined his forehead, deep and revealing bloody skull. His eyes were closed, and he was silent, but I could tell he was still alive. I took a step towards him, but then he too vanished into the surgical wing of the hospital.

I was okay. Physically, I was fine. A living miracle. The love of my life has glass stabbing into her on every side. My brother had a lacrosse stick jammed through him. My boyfriend had a gaping hole in his head. Physically, I was great.

But inside I was already dead.

***

I was sitting on the floor. All of the chairs in this waiting room were taken. Family. That's who was making me sit on the floor. Families of everyone involved. Families of the unfortunate. Families of the living. Families of the deceased. I didn't have the heart to call my own. What would I say? We crashed? There was a car accident? All I know is one second I'm in the best spot in the world, in Isabelle's arms, and the next we're in a crumpled heap and another car smashes into our already disfigured vehicle. But now. . . I'm squatting alone, surrounded by wailing souls, in a hospital, waiting to hear from somebody about anybody. Doctors were coming around with names of the already identified people, but none of them were what I was searching for.

I hit the back of my head against the wall for the millionth time. I ignored anyone that spoke to me unless they mentioned a particular name. I sank into my mind, numbing all over, and unable to believe what was happening.

This isn't real. It's just a dream. You're okay. They're okay.

I shut my eyes. I could still taste Isabelle on my lips, but it was a pained feeling, not something to enjoy. It wasn't the taste of freedom and sheer joy. It was the taste of a forced goodbye.

Dancing on the back of my eyelids was the look on Isabelle's face when I pressed her against the wall. The lust-filled surprise glinting in her eyes when I caught her off guard, and then pure determination as she got her payback. I could almost feel her hand slithering down my pants again, just before she retracted it and turned on me. More like turned me on.

She couldn't die. If she died, I'd never be able to live with all of the "what if's." They'd eat me alive until all that was left was a soulless corpse, staring emptily into the nothing while life continued on around it. My body would be there, but I wouldn't be there. I'd be gone.

Another list of names was pinned on the bulletin board. These were the ones that hadn't made it. The ones that were gone. Like moths to a flame, people swarmed the paper, fighting to read the few labels that were printed there. I waited until everyone had had a chance to look at it, before stumbling to my feet. I felt eyes briefly glance at me and my blood-drenched clothing and scraped up skin with stitches only half completed. I reached the bulletin board, and as if I were reading the list of people who made the cut on a school sports team, I ran my finger along the list, searching for a familiar name. I reached the twenty-first name, and let out a sigh of relief. But even though this told me Isabelle, David, and Matt weren't definitely dead, I still couldn't help but feel aggravated. I was sick of waiting. Why couldn't the fucking just tell me already if they were okay?

I numbly sat back on my place on the floor. The hours ticked by, and light was bleeding across the sky in ribbons outside, illuminating the ground the longer I sat still and waited. People around me were informed of their loved ones. Some fell to their knees, and buried their faces in their hands as the weeped. Others let out cries of joy and threw their arms around the neck of the messenger, nearly shouting out their thanks. Some still remained, and gazed upward, their hands clasped together as if they were praying. Even as the seats emptied out, I still remained on the floor.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Still fucking waiting.

An hour after sunrise.

Two hours.

Three.

Four.

Five.

"I remember you."

I hadn't realized I'd fallen asleep until the words pulled me out of it, and I lifted my face up from my arms. A tall, slightly round girl with wavy blond hair stood before me, bearing a pale blue doctor's uniform, which read Lucy Fairbanks. The name was vaguely familiar, and her face was fuzzy in mind, as if I'd met her before.

"Do you now?" I snapped, unable to hold back the impatient venom.

She didn't seem to notice.

A smudge of blood was smeared on the corner of her shirt below her lab coat, Maybe she was just coming out of a surgery. I don't think she noticed.

"I was an intern working with the attending on your case," she clarified, taking the cushioned seat a yard in front of me. "Were you in the accident?" The way she said it, was like she already knew the answer.

She seemed a little too social and friendly for a doctor. Was she even allowed to be interacting with me? Shouldn't she be tending to someone who's, oh I don't know, bleeding to death?

As if watching myself from far away, I felt myself nod vaguely.

I don't know what happened, because the next thing I knew Lucy was finishing the sutures on my skin, and I was sitting on a bench next to a shelf full of medical supplies. I didn't even remember how I got there, one second I was wearily eyeing her, and now a sharp pain is jolting through my arm.

"Are you waiting to hear about someone?" she asked me, as she finished the gash on my forehead ten minutes later.

I found myself nodding again. The pain in my arm faded, as if I were going numb. I felt like I was already dead. No emotion filtered through me, no adrenaline pumping my veins. It was like a dream, where insane and wicked things occurred, but you didn't question it because nothing was meant to be normal, it was supposed to be phenomenal.

"Was it that girl that took you in?" she continued. I wished she would just be quiet already. I know I should be grateful I wasn't alone, dreading the events to come in silence, but I just wanted to hear about my friends. When I didn't respond, my thoughts lingering on Isabelle, she spoke again. "She seems like a good person to have around. When you came in the first time, she was by your side the entire time, and she refused to leave you. They called security on her. I saw you with her when you came in last night. I didn't realize you were... together."

I clenched my jaw, unable to resist as my fingers rose to touch my lips. They felt chapped and dry, nothing like Isabelle's when she threw herself at me. The sound of her screams rung in my ears, and for a moment all I could see was the agony building up in her eyes and the blood pouring from her numerous wounds.

"We're not. She's my brother's girlfriend."

Lucy looked up at me then, her eyes gentle and sympathetic, but as if she were tying to see passed every barricade I had placed. It wasn't like Isabelle, where she quietly found her away, unnoticed and subtle, but Lucy was just hitting at it head-on, to no avail.

"Do you know where she is?" I asked, meeting her dark eyes.

"I'm sorry, I don't."

I sank back into the bench, sulking. Lucy was useless, unhelpful, and nosey. She would make a terrible doctor and get no where in life, and probably fail her intern exams. And then I mentally kicked myself in the gut for being such a bitch. I shouldn't be bagging on her because of what was going on, what I was refusing to believe.

But then the most amazing thing happened. Okay, not really, but still, after the passed eight hours, it was like having been suffocating for so long in a polluted area, and then getting a taste of fresh, country air.

A short, stocky doctor with wire-rimmed spectacles, chocolate skin and thinning brown hair trotted up to Lucy and I. He too was vaguely familiar, but like I'd only glanced at him once or twice, and never even exchanged a conversation with. He looked at me with interest, as if seeing me was as refreshing as his words were for me.

"I've been looking for you," he said flatly, professionally. Not filled with emotion and compassion like Lucy. "I've been going mad around this hospital. I saw you with your friend, the girl. She's awake, and she's been asking for you. Would you like to see her?"

Twenty-One
chapter twenty-one: Isabelle (Broken)

"And don't fucking come back until you've found her!" I yelled after the stocky African-American man, who I think was a resident, as he dashed fearfully out of my room. I'd spent the past ten minutes shrieking at him to get off his lazy ass (he was actually monitoring my blood pressure and shit) and find Sarah, because I was wide awake and the last thing I remember is Sarah kissing me in a room full of people while in complete and utter agony. My body still hurt, especially my stomach, but it wasn't as bad as before. I was confused as hell. I had no idea what had happened, what time, or hell, even what day it was. The doctors were about as helpful a carrot, with all their fancy shmancy words and arrogant faces. They pissed me off.

I'd refused to tell them anything, like my name, until Sarah came back. I know it was childish and stupid, but if I wanted anything done I'd have to give them such an ultimatum.

I looked around the room. It was basically the same as Sarah's had been, except there was no window over looking the parking lot, but it did have the one that gave the ability to see in the hall. I watched for a while as the daily life of so many people went on. Some ran, some walked. It wasn't like on TV, there was no stupid drama exploding in the halls around every corner, or nurses fighting over the attending they both slept with. To sum it up, it was peaceful. Maybe it was just because I couldn't hear anything going on outside my isolation, but at least the silence calmed my nerves. As another hour ticked by of sitting there doing absolutely nothing but fiddling with the tubes sticking in me, more and more of the events came back to me.

I remember taking a leap of faith and cuddling with Sarah in the backseat of my boyfriend's car, listening to her even breath, watching her chest rise and fall (in a non-perverted way), and putting my arm around her, caging her in my embrace. And then she sat up, disturbing my ecstasy-like state, looking around her like something was terribly wrong. But then people were screaming and the sound of metal crunching and scraping was like a bomb in my ears, coming from all around me and deafening. I remember throwing myself over Sarah, shielding her as the window on my side exploded, as well as the windshield, the scalding shards of glass snapping at me all over before I passed out from the pain.

I inahled sharply, my hand shooting to my stomach as an ache took over, blindingly painful. I clenched my eyes shut, biting my tongue to get my mind off the terrorizing wound. I heard the door fling open, and I shouted, with my eyes still closed, at the stocky doctor something about what a dick he was for not coming back with Sarah.

"Well aren't you just a big fucking ray of sunshine."

I opened my eyes, and there was Sarah. Looking like a beautiful shit, I might add. Her shirt was stained with countless gallons of blood, torn and revealing plenty of scraped skin. A thick bruise was covering the right side of her face, partially concealed by her blond and blue hair, that now had dark red smudges in it. Blood crusted on her face and hands, and her jeans were also shredded. A significantly large gash was on her forehead, and even though it was stitched, it still looked terrible and stomach-wrenching.

"You're. . ." I began, searching for the right words. I didn't even know what I wanted to say.

"Alive? Yea."

"No, not that, I mean. . . you kissed me."

Color flooded her pale, hollow cheeks, and I couldn't believe she was actually blushing.

"Yea, I did," she said finally. Instead of taking the chair in the corner, like I had done when the roles were reversed, she sat soundlessly at the foot of my bed, criss-crossing her legs. I noticed she had no shoes, and they weren't on the floor either. Maybe she lost them.

"Why?"

"I thought you were going to die."

Despite everything, I cracked a smile. "Oh, so you have no faith in me? I'm not weak, you know. I can take a few pieces of glass."

Sarah's eyes clouded and her face darkened, her lips pointing downward in a frown. I could tell she was remembering back to however long ago.

"You were screaming. You had this one piece of glass, it was huge and just sticking right into your shoulder."

I had changed a lot since I met Sarah. It was like our ways were growing on each other, and we couldnt help but act like the other. Sarah was less of a curse-like-a-drunken-sailor and was a bit more gentle, more open with me, while I always stalled when it came to talking about me and was yelling at people. I guess that's why I concealed whatever emotion it was the words she was saying made me feel, and aked "Did you get a picture?"

"This isn't funny." She wasn't looking at my face anymore, and was running her finger over the sky-blue, cotton blanket. Sarah's hand, I noticed, was trembling as it ran over my foot, and I shivered.

I tried to change the subject. "How's David?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. You're the first I've seen or heard about since. . . you know, it."

"Oh. I take it you don't know about Matt either?"

She shook her head no.

And then she surprised me. Sarah moved closer to me, and laid down beside me. I scooted over to the edge so she had more room, but still stared at her. She seemed oblivious of it, because she just continued to rest her head on my pillow. After a while, she curled her fingers around my wrist and put my arm around her. I then saw the darkness in her eyes. She was on the verge of digging an endless hole and crawling in to curl up in a silent ball and never come out.

So I turned over to lay on my side, ignoring the darts stabbing into my gut, and pulled her closer to me. My curtain of dark hair concealed her face from anyone that happened to be watching, and she dragged her head away to lay below mine, the top of her hair grazing my chin.

"It's okay," I whispered, stroking her short hair with my casted hand.

And then she was bawling into me, clutching my shirt like I'd done with Matt when my mother showed up. I held her tight to me, moving my arms to be around her, and just let her cry.

After a while, her sobs gradually subsided, growing quieter and quieter until she was silent. I thought for a moment she might be asleep, but I dismissed the idea. Her breathing sounded different and shallower when she was sleeping. Amd she was playing with my hair, for whatever reason. I could feel her entwining a lock of my hair around her finger, and just twiddling with it.

I moved my head away from above hers, sliding down so I could see her face. Her tears had created streaks through her grimy and blood-crusted face, and her eyes were bright red. She looked at me, unintentionally pouting, and blankly stared into my eyes. I don't know what overcame me, but after a failed attempt at brushing away the hair in her face, I pressed my lips to hers. Sarah didn't seem surprised, but it wasn't such a deep or intense kiss like all the rest of them. This was calm, and unrushed. Her lips danced peacefully against mine, tasting metallic and salty like blood.

I pulled out of it just as quickly, because we weren't alone. A man had entered the room, and he cleared his throat. He looked awkward, the kind of person that no matter how many interactions with others he had, he'd forever be the closed-up and stuttering boy at the back of the room, with an unknown talent.

I really need to stop with this judging on first impressions. He was probably just uncomfortable because two girls were kissing on a bed and one was covered in blood that wasn't her own.

"Sarah Wilson?" he asked tentatively, in a tone of voice I knew too well.

No.

"Yes?" she responded, crawling out of my bed. As if it would make a difference, she tried to straigthen out her ripped shirt, brush the dirt off her jeans, and get the knots out of her hair with her fingers.

"I'm Dr. Hugney. May we talk? Er, in the hall?"

It was all too clear. Sarah had never dealt with this. I had. I knew what was happening. I knew why his voice was too stiff and too aloof. I knew why his eye twitched, as did his mouth, as he forced himself not to frown sadly.

Ragged shards of memories slipped into my mind, burning and all I could see was that day, so long ago, cloudy and dark.

The scorch marks running along my body and concealing my face were unbearably painful, but I had to say I was fine. I had to listen to my mom fret to me about Sydney. Why should I let such a petty thing like pain get in the way of her worrying about her other daughter? She shouldn't have to be upset about me too.

She was smoking a cigarette in my room, despite the fact we were in a hospital. As usual, she was dressed in skanky attire that was a size too small on her, skin-tight and pressing her breasts together so it looked like they would pop out at any moment. It was clear that was what numerous male doctors were hoping for.

"You're sure you're okay?" She glanced at me again, but I saw Sydney taking over her mind, not me. It's okay, she already gave me her worry. It was Sydney's turn.

"I'm great." I smiled convincingly.

Bleach was strong in my nose, and floor cleaners. I wondered how often they had to clean these rooms because of blood spilling across the floor. For a moment, I wondered what it would be like if the room just crumpled beneath our feet, the walls caving in and the roof smashing down into millions of pieces, suffocating the two of us. I could almost hear the glass shattering and the screeches tearing out of innocents' throats until their muscle and skin was raw. I could see my mother with her head twisted in impossible ways, her limbs bent in opposite directions, and her skin craking, bones smashing to bits and pieces, as the thick blood oozed out of her pores, and her eyes went wide with fear.

And then I was back in the hospital, watching Mom pace back and forth, nibbling on the end of her cigarette before flicking the ash onto the floor. I watched it float down like snow, peacefully drifting on to the linoleum floor.

The door creaked open, and a doctor strode in. Mom's eyes flared with beaming hope, because for once this wasn't my doctor, it was someone who wouldn't be purposelessly shrugging, saying they didn't know where my sister was. But his eyes were cold and emotionally distant, detatched. Doctors are supposed to not get too emotional on their cases, but this was different. At that second, this man cared too little.

"Ms. Johnson?" He looked down at his clipboard briefly.

My mother rattled her head like a bobble-head doll. "Yes?" Her voice was shaky, yet firm at the same time, if that's possible.

And he spoke. His words died in the air, falling to the ground like withered leaves in the winter. Mom's eyebrows furrowed deeply, her mouth hanging open lightly as if she were going to say something, but she never did. She just stared at him in disbelief, until her legs were too wobbly to hold her and she fell into the chair. But the gaping, accusing look never wavered. I'll never forget the look on her face before her life fell apart.

I felt my heart seize up and choke. It was the first time I ever understood what people meant when they said their heart was breaking into thousands of shards, awkwardly jabbing at the insides surrounding it until all you felt was scalding pain within you, growing stronger and never fading with time. I kept shaking my head the more the man told us the events, laying them out in the open, naked and to be seen by anyone.

She never looked at me the same. I was a constant reminder of what could have been. Of what would have happened if things had been different. If I hadn't stayed home from school, pretending to be sick because I'd gotten into a fight with a friend. If Sydney wasn't the caring and helpful sister every mother can't help but love irrecovably.

The strange doctor was looking at Sarah the exact way the other one had looked at Mom. Hard, and with forced indifference. Sarah didn't see it. She just watched him, confused as to why he was speaking to her. I think the doctor would be intimidated by her under any other cirumstances. That's why she was even more baffled, because usually people cringed away from her, afraid of her supposed apathy.

"Why can't we talk in here?" She cocked her head at him, raising an eyebrow. I'd think she was adorable, in any other situation. I'd smirk and giggle, while she would send a playful glare my way before looking back at him.

"Ms. Wilson, I strongly suggest that unless Ms. Johnson is related by blood to your family in any way, that we speak outside of this room."

Sarah still wasn't catching on, and I wanted to burst into tears. I wanted to scream at her to never leave, that if she listened to him she'd never be the same. I've already lost my sister and parents. I've already lost someone I love. I can't loose her too.

But my mouth was firmly shut, and I didn't say a word.

Sarah gave me a funny look, and shrugged, as if to say What's the worst that could happen?

You have no idea, I thought, my eyes stinging.

So she walked out the room with him.

I could see them speaking through the window. Only half of Sarah was visible, most of her face hidden, but I could see the doctor. He made little hand gestures. His knuckles were white, his fingers clenching his clipboard to his chest tightly.

I saw a frown thicken on her angelic, bloody face. She crossed her arms across her chest, and I watched her dare Dr. Hugney with her eyes to say what he was going to say. She knew what it was, even if she didn't yet. I don't know if that makes any sense. But you know how when someone tells you somethig, you were expecting it, but you were still surprised? That's how she was looking.

Sarah's lightly shaking her head now, slow and dawdling at first. But then she was harsher until it seemed like she'd snap her neck. Her hand flew to cover her mouth, and I could see the invisible tears leaking from her heart, bleeding into the air. But then the actual ones were dribbling down her cheeks, just like before.

Her hand dropped away from her face, and I could see her mouth the word Please, as if begging him would change the cold, hard facts. As if it were up to him. She kept shaking her head, a desperate look to her face and she continued to plead with him. The muscles along her jaw were dancing under her skin, and her mouth was held closed so tightly it looked like it was causing her phsycial pain. But I knew it was nothing compared to the fireworks of despair exploding in her chest, swallowing her whole. I watched Sarah shut her eyes, willing away reality for just a little longer, as long as she possibly can.

But then she disappeared from the window, and I couldn't see her anymore. Dr. Hugney let his head hang, and he too shook his head gently, as if angry with himseld. He pinched the bridge of his nose, before straightening up and stiffly walking up.

Sarah burst through the door, running her fingers through her hair. I didn't have to ask anything, because I already knew. I could see it in the despair burning in her eyes. She was still frowning excessively, rattling her head from side to side.

And then she looked at me.

Her voice was cracked \-- no, it was broken.

Prior to speaking, Sarah's frown deepened, and she stared bewildered into the space, as if she couldn't quite believe that she was actually going to say what she was about to, much less the words themselves. "Matt's. . . dead?"

Twenty-Two
chapter twenty-two: Sarah (Misfit)

...Three Months Later...l

I tossed the blanket into the air, ignoring the clouds of dust wafting around me. I pulled the blanket across the bed, tidying it up. I pressed the pillows together, and straightened the blanket even more. It was actually a bit of an ugly thing. A creamy beige, with a thick orange strip at the foot of it. The pillows, I have to admit, are nice. Fluffy and thick.

I grabbed the motel key of the counter below the TV, and stuffed it into my bag.

For forty bucks a night, the room was pretty great. A round indent in the wall at the front of the room revealed a flat-screen TV, with a little shelf beneath that, where I had found the remote and cheap motel chocolate when I first checked in, and below that was the birch-wood table, two matching, identical chairs on either side. There was one bed, to the right of it an oak-wood nightstand was displayed with one of those old-fashioned telephones, the dial and everything. Two light switches were above that on the pale, peach/orange wall, which connected to the lights above the bed. My description probably doesn't do it much justice, but just believe me when I tell you, the room was nice. You know, putting aside the ugly-as-shit blankets.

Not that I even needed a room anyway. It's not like I did anything but toss and turn all night long, my eyes never staying closed for longer than five minutes. I'd be forced to go to the bathroom and splash water into my face to calm myself. I had nightmares without even sleeping. I was living a nightmare.

I grabbed my duffel bag off the floor, sweeping the room with my eyes to make sure I'd left nothing behind. Satisfied, I fished my cell phone out of my pocket. Just as I heard the line ringing, I passed the check-in desk, and gave a little wave to the manager. He frowned whenever he saw me, and snapped "No funny business, a'ight?" when I first arrived. They never trusted teenagers, and I was lucky to even be able at getting a room. Most people would refuse to give a room to an adolescent, especially one with blue streaks in her hair and a sassy smirk on her face.

"Hello?" I let out a sigh of relief that she had actually picked up. We might have been distant for a while, but things were working out, and surprisingly enough, we were finding plenty of things in common now. I was glad I had her, because she was good at helping me get what I need to cope with his. . .

I can't even say it. It still seems so surreal, and fake. Seriously, have you ever heard of someone. . . you know. . . because he had a lacrosse stick jammed into his guts? The things aren't even sharp. It's so. . . unrealistic and stupid. I don't get it, and I don't think I ever will.

"Hey Jane." I tightened my grip on the phone, shifting the strap of my bag over my shoulder and dropping my duffel to the ground. I leaned against the wall, and rummaged through my bag. "Can you pick me up? I'm at one of the Motel 6's off route 90. Not too far, only ten minutes I think. You're at Marcus's, right?"

I pulled my lighter and pack of cigarettes out of my bag, grinning at my victory. I stuck one between my dry lips, shielding the flame from the nagging wind and lit it up. I sucked in the disgusting but comforting smoke into my lungs, wondering why I did it if I never enjoyed it much and could feel it destroying me already. I blew out a puff of smoke through my nose, shrugging. Who gives a fuck? It's not like there's anything worth something anymore.

"Sure thing, babe. And yep, we partied hard last night. Too bad you missed it. Want me to bring you some juju?"

Normally, you'd think that juju meant coffee or something, maybe a breakfast burrito or whatever. You wouldn't expect it to be bottle of week-old vodka wrapped in a paper bag, especially when you were talking to a sixteen-year-old girl.

"Damn straight." I flicked the ash off the end onto the pavement, smirking at a woman who glared at me. She was probably wondering what my parents thought of me or something. Not that I give a shit. She can go blow up Chicago for all I care.

"Alright babe." That's the thing with Jane. Lately, she calls me babe all the time, as if we're together or the stars in a womens' prison film or something. At least it was better than baby. God, I hate it when people call each other baby. They're not a freaking toddler, for Christ's sake. There's only one person that can call someone baby, and that's Avril in Hot. The chick may be as fickle as they come and just an older version of Selena Gomez with a better voice and hotter body, but the way she says baby in her song.... God.

I heard Jane giggle madly, and shout something, but it was muffled. She must have pressed her hand to the microphone. Then her voice was loud and clear as she told me "Hey, listen, I gotta go, but I'll be there in a flash. Later."

Ignoring the seething annoyance at her cocky tone, I clicked the phone off, not bothering to say goodbye.

Before I slipped my phone into my pocket, it vibrated furiously. ONE NEW VOICEMAIL flared on the screen, and I had time to kill, so I called it. I went through the security check, and after a moment, a familiar voice filtered into my ear.

"Sarah. . . it's me. Isabelle." I gulped. "It's. . . I know it's been a while since we've talked, but I'm worried about you. You've been really distant lately, and I hardly see you at school anymore. I know it's been hard on you, but I don't want you to do something you're going to regret. Maybe we can--"

I pressed END, rolling my eyes drastically and tossing it into my bag, taking another drag on my cigarette. The winter air scratched at my skin, slicing through my thin clothing. I shivered, trying not to think about the past.

I drowsily slumped against the cement wall, sucking in the gruesome cigarette, as I waited for Jane. If I knew one thing about her, it'd be she' never on time, much less early. A few minutes translates to ten. Ten translates to twenty, and so on. So I wasn't at all too surprised when she arrived a little less than half an hour later with a brown paper bag containing a glass bottle at the floor of the passenger seat.

"Hey girl," she greeted, her voice high pitched and raspy. I noticed the pot she was smoking, and pondered whether or not I was in the mood. Probably not, but that didn't stop me from stuffing my lit cigarette onto the ground and smearing it with the sole of my army boots, and snatching the joint from her fingers. "Sorry I'm late."

"No biggie." Already I felt the familiar high, congesting my brain and oozing through my veins. I felt sick because I knew it was destroying me, and I used to be the kind of girl that hated smokers. Now look at me.

Jane told me not to start drinking until we reach Marcus's, because she just got her license back. She'd had it taken away for speeding, and now supposedly she was learning to be "careful." I didn't buy it. I always half-expected to get pulled over when I was with her and thrown in jail like a rag doll. Or maybe I just hoped I would. At least then I wouldn't have to do anything but sit in a cell all day.

Twenty minutes later, I was squished between two ex-cons on a flakey sofa that smelled of stale beer and pot. The guy to my right had a dragon tattoo running the length of his arm, stretching across his open chest, and down the other limb. I had to admit I was pretty mesmerized by it at first. The other guy had this Bob Marley hair going on, and from the way he spoke and referred to himself, it gave me to the impression he thought he was black, or hoped to be anyway. Sitting on the supposed-to-fit-one-person chair was Marcus, with Jane drooped over him, her arms around his neck and their legs tangled. It took me a moment to get the memory of Isabelle and I sitting in the backseat of that pickup out of my head, and when I did, I noticed my eyes were wet and stinging.

I wiped them with my sleeve before anyone could notice.

Without even asking, I grabbed the bottle of scotch from the Marley Wannabee and chugged it down, fighting back a choke on the fiery liquid as it waterfalled down my throat. When I set it down, he was looking at me with awe.

"So Sarah," Marcus started, taking a swig on his beer. "Tell Jim here about your brother. It's one wicked story, dude." He added that last part to the guy with the dragon tattoo, who looked at me curiously.

I only glared at Marcus, but he just smirked all cheerfully, doped up, as if I weren't looking at him like I was ready to tear his intestines out of this throat. Jane watched the two of us with a grin on her pale face, and I wanted to kill her too when she started telling the tale.

"She went gay and made out with her brother's girlfriend a dozen times and then got a boyfriend, but still did the nasty with her. Then her brother died some freak car accident, and so she dumped her boyfriend and hasn't spoken to the chick since."

I muttered a "Fuck you, bitch," under my breath and grabbed at the bottle of scotch, getting to my feet. I made my way around all of the tangled bodies, trying not to picture them as bloody corpses, and staggered out of the room. I could feel Jim's eyes boring into me, but it seemed like everyone else had already lost interest. Jane and Marcus were probably doing it right then and there, regardless of who was capable of watching.

Disgusted, I locked myself in the bathroom, trying not to hyperventilate. Bile rose in my throat, scorching my mouth and I dived for the toilet, dropping the open bottle on floor. It shattered, and I puked into the white bowl, retching. As I slumped back onto the floor, feeling worse than ever, I felt a light, splitting pain in my hand. I glanced down weakly, and watched the blood ooze from the wound, trickling down my forearm. Bits and pieces of the night flashed before my eyes.

Isabelle shrieking bloody murder.

All of that glass stuck in at awkward angles into her beautiful, flawless skin.

Blood spurting everywhere.

Screaming.

So much screaming.

Matt screeching into the air, digging his hands into the bed with his back arcing, unable to focus on anything but the sheer agony.

The lacrosse stick jutting out of him.

Blood.

So much blood.

I pressed my hands to my eyes hard, shutting them closed, as if the force from my palms would stop the flood. I found myself rocking back and forth as I smeared my own blood across my face and willed the painful memories away.

My phone vibrated again in my pocket, and just like before, it read the same thing on the screen. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, and with a bloody finger I pressed the CALL button.

"Sweetie, Sarah, it's your mother." I groaned inwardly as I listened to the voicemail. Couldn't she see I needed my own space? ". . . want to know when you plan on coming back. Your father and I are getting very worried, and we understand you need personal time, but this isn't easy for any of us." I heard her sniffle, and suppressed my sympathy. "We need to face this as a family. If you don't come home, I don't want to have to send out a Missing Person's report. You know me. I love you sweetie, please come home."

"End of message," the automated, British voice spoke into my ear. I erased it, and stuffed my phone back into my pocket.

It's been three weeks I think since I've been home. I've gone to school only six times in that time span, and each time I talked back to the teachers, lashing out at them and cursing like a drunken sailor at them for giving me homework. They took it the wrong way, thinking I was stuck up. So I told them to go fuck themselves. So right now I'm suspended for a week, but I couldn't care less. More time for me, my motels, booze, and drugs. I was happy as could be. Just fucking peachy.

When did I last see Isabelle, you might ask? Probably when I came bawling into her hospital room, saying my brother was. . . you know. . . and then leaving, slamming the door on my way out. She'd left plenty of voicemails, but they slowly faded with time, and she left less and less until there was nothing left. The one I had received this morning was a rare thing, because I can't even remember the last time I heard her voice, even if it was over the phone. A month ago? A couple weeks?

I swallowed my tears, and stood up. I wiped the blood off my face, arm an hands. It didn't hurt anymore, but that was probably because I was so used to pain these days. I hope that doesn't make me sound like an annoying and whiny mother fucker, because I hate those bitches.

After I cleaned myself up, I was feeling desperate. Wiping my nose on my sleeve, I took my phone back out. I scrolled through the contacts list, searching. It took me longer than it should have to find the name, but when I did, I pressed the green button and held it to my ear. It rung on for ages, reaching the extent where I was ready to hang up, but then I heard that familiar voice.

"Hello?"

I was silent for a few seconds, and they repeated the single-worded question.

I gulped, and shook my head to clear it. "Um, hey," I croaked feebly. I scratched at the back of my head, more for something to do with my hands than anything else. I noticed my hair was getting longer, and it was reaching passed my shoulders. It looked stupid with the fading blue streaks, since I hadn't gotten my hair re-done. Maybe I should do a different color this time. Black. Maybe red, like blood. "It's me. . . Sarah." I inhaled a shaky breath, closing my eyes. "Listen, I know I've been pretty A-wall recently, but. . . I just. . . I really need someone right now." My voice was cracking and tears were streaming from my eyes, pouring down my face. "I know I've treated you like garbage, but please, can we. . . talk?"

The other end was quiet, really quiet. I heard them sigh, but then they caught me off guard. I hadn't actually been expecting that answer. I was so used to things going south lately, I didn't think they'd actually say "Yea, sure."

Twenty Three
chapter twenty-three: Isabelle (Wishes)

There's a lot of things I could say. I can talk about how I went out of my way to get in touch with Sarah after the boy I loved died like the cheating bitch I was, only to no ends. Or how my little brother caught me crying late at night and made me hot chocolate to make me feel better, when I should be taking care of him. He had to be so beyond confused about everything, and I was just bawling my eyes out into my pillow, my chest heavy, like an anvil was squatting down on it, while a fiery beast leaped through on the inside, annihilating anything in sight, anything left, anything that might work.

It was around noon, a little later, maybe fourth period. I was sulking in the janitor's closet, slumped against the wall. Now that I think about it, it seems vaguely familiar, like the one Matt and I had stumbled into with locked-lips, only to come across the homophobic guy with his hands running the length of Matt's sister's figure.

I was skipping class, mainly because it was with this guy named Alaric who was on the football team, dating the head cheerleader, and constantly hitting on me. Even though it had somehow gotten leaked that I slept with my dead boyfriend's sister and had gone gay, which kicked my social life down a few notches, not that it mattered. I'd finished it off these past few weeks by ignoring my friends, ditching class so I could cower in this closet, and not denying the homosexuality. I'm not gay, but I don't give a shit what they think.

I got overthrown or kicked out or whatever you wanna call it with the Senior Class President deal. Apparently I was irresponsible and in my "emotional state" I was "incompetent" at doing my job." Whatthefuckingever.

Matt's death; I think the second most difficult part to deal with, relating to that affliction, was that not only I lost the man I grew to love, but I also lost the girl who I fell in love with after him. They say that when you're forced to choose between two people you love, pick the second one, because if you truly loved the first one, you'd never have fallen for someone else. I beat myself up every day because I can't believe it took the death of my boyfriend for me to realize I'd be better with Sarah. And then I feel more guilty because if you believe in heaven or ghosts in crap, he probably is distraught at finally realizing I'm falling -- no, that I fell for his sister. But no, not only that, I have to go and shit on his memory and think Oh, well it's all good because now that he's dead I can do the nasty with his sister. Yea, it's all good.

Except because life is just one big cosmic joke, Sarah has to go and give me the cold shoulder, and turn to drugs and alcohol. So I'm left with a psychotic mother, a confused brother, and the weight of the world on my shoulders. Oh, and don't forget to throw in my (overwhelming) buddies Guilt and Remorse in there too. I'm stuck with bawling into my pillow at night, confused as hell just why any of this happened, how it could suddenly go all wrong. And the one person left that has any idea on how to make me feel even remotely better, is doing a hell of a lot worse than I am, and spreading fecal matter all over her life by infecting her body. To top it all off, she won't let me help her. She probably hates me.

I'm so sick of myself. I just want to trade lives with a sweet and innocent, straight little church girl with a big happy family, a six-digit trust fund, and a full ride to the perfect college. Can I just get a break? I probably sound whiney and pathetic, unable to take a death or two and some shit along with it. There's probably millions of kids out there with way worse lives, and I can hardly handle mine.

See? This is why I'm sick of myself.

I'm sick of waiting for her to call me back. I'm sick of my mom's mood swings. I'm sick of death controlling everything in my life. I'm sick of Nathan trying to take care of me, when I should be looking after him. I'm sick of people at school, people I don't even know, coming up to me and apologizing. It's like, don't fucking feel sorry for me, what about the sister you've all rudely cast out and is in way more shit than I am? I'm sick of people telling me I'm a wreck. I'm sick of people asking if I need help. I'm sick of everything.

Oh my God, how can I still be so irrevocably and unconditionally in love with her? She's a hormonal bitch that won't just let me help her, and chooses to fuck up her life. All she's ever done is use me for a quick make out, and then spat out to my face that I mean nothing to her and she doesn't need me. I'd be better off without her, but I'd also be in the worst state imaginable if that happened.

I remember how cruel Sarah'd been to David. When he woke up and got out of surgery, he told me she actually came up to his bedside, and broke up with him. I'm not kidding you, it was seriously minutes after he woke up and the doctors told him he had a serious concussion. She just plainly came out, said they were over, and walked out of the room. It took him a while to actually get what she had told him, and the doctors got pissed because all that stress it added up.

Great, now I sound like a freaking gossiping moron.

Have I mentioned I'm pissed all the time?

I think you probably caught on by now.

Whenever I asked anyone, like her teachers or classmates, about Sarah, they stared at me like I was insane. What does senior class president want to do with the loser sister who's brother died in some freak accident? The teachers shrugged and said she was suspended last I heard, and the classmates said she was hanging with Jane Marshall now, who everyone knew was a total stoner.

Here I go again with the gossiping.

I frustratedly screamed at myself when I started crying. I pounded on my cheeks with my fists, as if beating myself up would stop the never-ending flow. My throat closed up and it felt like I was drowning, like water was steadily filling this room, clawing at my body until it sucked me under, my head floating around numbly as the murky water clogged my throat and nostrils, taking over. That's what it feels like, losing both of them. Losing Sydney. Losing Matt. Losing Sarah.

God, just why? I know so many people say this, but what the hell did I do? I'm a good person! I get good grades, I do the best I can with Nathan, I tried to help Sarah, I was a good girlfriend -- minus the cheating -- and I've given my mother a dozen breaks a day. What more does whoever-it-is-that-is-dictating-my-life want from me?

I stopped by her house a few times. It was a total mess. Not visually, but I can remember clear as day that aura of that place. It was warm like morning sunshine, and smelled like rainbows. Believe me, I know how retarded that sounds, but the best way there is to describe what the home-life of that house used to be like, was it reminded me of Christmas morning when Sydney was still alive. Filled to the brim and overflowing with joy and laughter, presents scattered and smiles plastered. But when I went to find Sarah, what I found was a dead family. A mother with bags under her eyes, which were like looking into a long and empty tunnel was the only pulsating human there. It reminded me of my apartment, only larger and the parents not taking it all out on their remaining children, or child in this case. Each and every time I went, they always said Sarah wasn't home. I think I reminded them of how happy Matt had been, how much potential he had at the perfect life. I always left in a hurry.

I ran into the Jane chick a couple times at school, and pleaded with her to tell me where I could find Sarah each and every time. She always just smirked a familiar smile that I knew meant she was smashed, and said "Screw you, bitch. My babe don't wanna see you."

I don't think my mom even knew I had been dating anyone, so I never told her. Nathan knew, but he didn't bug me about it, but he was always being sweet and cooking for himself, or even me sometimes when I came home late after searching for Sarah. He reminded me to call Sarah a lot. I think he knew I liked girls also, and that there was something between her and I. I know I talk in my sleep, so I guess it could be that, but I don't know.

"Sarah, it's Isabelle again." I was laying on my bed, staring hard at the ceiling, feeling pathetic at trying not to cry. "It's the fourteenth, at like, I dunno, eight or something. I really think we should talk. Maybe go out for something to ear or. . . you know what, screw this. Stop being a fucking bitch and just call me back already. I loved him just as much as you did, and this hasn't been any easier for me. I know you need me, don't deny it, but I need you too, and right now everything's a bunch of shit and you're the only person that ever understood me and I just. . . I need you. Call me."

I hung up, feeling like the worst and most retarded person ever. I shouldn't have yelled at her, but I'm just so. . . sick of it. I fell asleep longing for her to be in my arms or to just hear her voice one more time. Or even his. Right now, I'd take anything. I don't care what I said. I miss her.

I miss him.

Twenty Four
chapter twenty-four: Isabelle (Pieces)

I'm at the hospital, and let me tell you, this brings up the worst memories imaginable. Every way I face I feel like I'm gonna see someone bloody, or a doctor with a scalpel, ready to pierce into me. It's like the echos of that night still linger in the walls.

Oh, I'm not hurt by the way. Well, physically. I'm here for Nathan. I don't want to go into details about what happened, because I'm still freaking out, and thinking about it is so not gonna help. Basically Mom went psycho because I broke a lamp (that I threw at the wall) and was yelling at me. I couldn't care less, so I just stood there, taking it, but Nathan got mad and stood up for me, but she then got pissed at him, went insane, slapped me for speaking, and then shoved Nathan for grabbing her arm and pleading for her to stop. Things went south, and now I'm here, at a fucking hospital because my little brother broke his arm.

Don't you just love unemotional explanations?

I'm waiting outside Nathan's room. He's sleeping now, after getting his cast on and his arm back in place so it can heal properly, and I didn't want to be in there again, just waiting. I don't know how Sarah ever did it with Matt, David, and I, but she did.

Someone, one of the nurses or doctors, must have called the police for whatever reason. I don't know why, I never said anything about my mom, having avoided their questions about my parents whereabouts. Who wants to say their dad's dead, and their mom turned into an abusive whore? Not exactly the most endearing topic. But once the cops showed... I didn't really have a choice.

I told them everything.

I started with how I came home from school an hour later than usual, around five or so. I think my mother was starting to tap into that nominal piece of her soul very deep down and thought it was AM and not PM, started screaming at me for getting home so late, declaring accusations of doing orgies and drugs. I don't even want to know how she knows what orgies are, because for one thing, it's disgusting, and secondly, it just sounds like a lot of work. So she woke up Nathan trying to be Mother Of The Year, and he came out, bleary eyed and confused.

"Nathan, go back to bed," I had ordered lazily. This wasn't his problem and he didn't need to deal with our mom's mood swings right now.

"No, Nathan, stay right here. You both need to understand that I will not tolerate tardiness in this class."

I just tuned out right there because she was drunk and thought she was a teacher now, which never happened before, but she had taken on roles of other professions before, like racers or engineers and crap, trying to sound all professional. So I directed Nathan back in the direction of the bedroom, saying something insulting about our mother that, frankly, right now I can't even remember.

So the bitch slapped me. "You will not speak of you mother that way, young lady!" She'd been purple in the face, veins throbbing, and her words almost too slurred to comprehend.

Nate attached himself to our mother's side, clinging to her, and pleading for her to just go to bed, ignoring my commands. It were as if she had the memory of a shit-faced whore (oh wait...) and were just remembering he were there. I think she called him an incompetent dick and was just like his father with a look of anguished fury, and then shoved him off of her like he was a draining parasite. With a terrorized cry, he thudded against the glass coffee table, slamming his arm at the worst of angles before it shattered, and glass flung all across the floor. I screamed, more because broken glass made me feel like I was in a small, tightly enclosed box, cramped in odd and uncomfortable ways. My insides were messed up. My heart was at my feet being stomped on, my stomach launched into my throat, and I just felt so hollow.

The next thing either of us knew, she started muttering nonsense under her breath, deliberately backing away from him. Then she grabbed her purse off the couch and dashed out the door, leaving nothing but a room with a petrified and traumatized girl, and an agonized little boy, quivering on the floor and whimpering endlessly.

Of course it was less detailed and more matter-of-fact. They don't need to know it kills me to see broken glass, or my kid brother in pain.

I know I had said I wanted to give her a break, or just go easy on her. Losing a daughter isn't exactly a walk in the park. But she crossed the line. This.. it was too much. Could she not see I needed her right now? I needed my mom to just hold me and tell me it'll be okay, someone to confide in. Nathan needed a mother to tell him he was too young to ask out a girl he's been crushing on since the second grade, or that it's okay he has a smaller build than the other boys in his class. I needed her to just hug me tight, say it's okay for me to miss Sydney, that it wasn't my fault, it's okay to be in love with a girl, and I'd make it through this. There's only so much I can take by myself.

So now, I sat on the floor, my face streaked with running mascara that I had decided on instinct to wear that morning for no apparent reason, continuously hitting my head on the wall.

They said she'd be put on trial for child abuse. That if we wanted her put away, we'd both have to go and make a statement, that it was our best chance. Something like that anyway. I don't remember much of their words, having been too furious by their condescending tones.

Did I?

Do I want my mother to go to jail?

I'm old enough to live on my own and take care of Nathan and I. Not a minor anymore. I can get a decent job, maybe a waitress, outside of school. I already have money for college. They mentioned something about this new program, where kids like me get a monthly income from the government or something to "help" pay for us. They said I was a perfect candidate. No criminal record of any sort. It wasn't exactly enough to live off of, but definitely a contribution to whatever I'd be getting at a job I'm gonna be forced to get.

But I'm not gonna live on my own with Nathan, I can't do that to him, he needs a strong figure to look up to. I have an aunt on my dad's side in Texas. She used to visit once a year, and bring these really cool presents for Nathan and I. It's not like there's anything here anymore to hold me back. I'll go as soon as my senior year's over. It's just a few months. I'll find some college near there so I don't have to worry about a dorm, and Nathan wouldn't have to be home alone while I'm at classes.

The hospital had this stale feeling to it. Like it was just getting old. I've been here too much for my liking in the past six months. Some people only go here a couple times throughout their lives, even if it's just for an annual check-up. Not because someone you love had a heart attack at seeing a guy that tried to murder her, or because of a freak car accident where your boyfriend died because of a fucking lacrosse stick, or that your mom is an abusive, psychosomatic, and irrational bitch and broke your brother's arm.

I shouldn't be here.

I bit my lip, and pounded my fists on the linoleum floors in frustration. I wanted to scream so desperately, just let it all out and never stop.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, but I ignored it. Who gives a shit anymore?

I took it out of my pocket and onto the floor, watching it skid around, like an animal in pain, writhing under the gaze of a sadist. It stopped after a few moments, and I thought it was over, partially disappointed that the distraction was gone. Then it started up again. The process continued for a few more rings, until during the fifth time someone was calling it that I picked it up.

Rubbing my puffy red eyes, I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Hello?"

Holy shit do I sound like hell. As if I hadn't spoken for years and instead just shrieked endlessly.

"Did she answer?" I heard a muffled, familiar voice say distantly.

Then the person on the other end hushed whoever it was that had spoken, and confusedly said "Isabelle?" Almost like she didn't expect this to be me. I wouldn't either. I sound like a fucking senile smoker with a lisp. Of course, if she keeps going as she has been, that's what she will sound like in a good fifty years or so.

Then I sat upright.

Sarah?

"Hello?" she repeated for the second time, a little annoyed. "Can you put Isabelle on?"

I had to smirk at her demanding and frustrated tone. Always making others feel intimidated was her specialty. I opened my mouth to speak, to say something casual, but it caught in my throat. When was the last time I heard her angelic voice? And why in the fucking hell was she calling now?

"What do you want?" I wasn't at all surprised at being so harsh and despising. I had a fucking right to be as ticked off as they get. Forget what I said before. I feel so cold, chilled-to-the-bone like I'd spent hours wandering aimlessly in a blizzard, and talking to her now is making me feel like this.

I was scared.

Hurt.

"What's that sound? Where are you?"

Someone was crashing and a bunch of doctors were rushing a patient down the hall. The monitor was going insane, shrill and loud, while they were all shouting orders.

I pulled my feet in as they passed so I wouldn't me trampled on and grimaced at the noise. "Hospital but--"

"You're fucking where?"

Before I could respond, the person in the background asked a question, and Sarah pressed her hand to the phone to respond. "Hospital, now fucking shut up."

"Is that David?" I asked incredulously. Great, just mother fucking peachy. She decided to hook up with David before calling me? I guess I really mean nothing to her anymore.

Another tear leaked from my eye, trailing down my face and dripping under my chin. My mouth was quivering as I tried to stop the rest from falling. It was too much. My chest was shattering, everything was breaking. Nothing was working. It hurt too much.

Nothing was worth it anymore.

"I'll be there in five." And then she hung up, leaving me with silence on my phone before I numbly flipped it closed. I don't want to see her. She can go fuck David and just leave me here.

I'm going to Texas, and I'm not coming back. Nothing she can say will change that. I need a new place to start over, new environment, new friends, new interests. I don't need Sarah. I don't. I don't.

I rose to my feet awkwardly, my muscles tense and stiff. I cringed as I stepped through the door to Nathan's room. We were on the first floor this time, and the window had a bland view, with a white Sedan blocking the gloomy trees and foggy fields beyond the parking lots, wavering in the distance. Nathan was laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling blankly.

"Nate?"

His eyes flickered briefly over to me, and he showed so much. He felt so beyond betrayed and too aware of the tragedies being revealed in life at the worst of times. His blood was going cold. I was eighteen, but he was only thirteen. This had to be the most difficult thing to deal with. Learning to understand how Sydney could be just gone was one thing, but home is supposed to be one of those places you feel safe, where you can smile without it feeling terribly wrong, laugh with your siblings or have fall-outs, argue with your parents but make up later, a place you want to look forward to going to, not the other way around. A place with a beaming mother, waiting with open arms to swing him around in the air and nuzzle her face into his shoulder, claiming petty jokes about how he should stay home forever and never grow up.

He needs the childhood I had before she died.

Now, he never will.

He'll always know his mother neglected him and scarred him emotionally and mentally. That she hurt him in more ways than one.

"How are you feeling?"

It was a dumb question, but I didn't know what else to say. Seeing him there so torn and feeling helpless made me want to break down again.

"You've been crying."

I fucking hate mascara.

I wiped my face on my sleeve, leaving a dark smudge that probably wouldn't come out. Not that it matters. I don't want anything from this day.

"I'm fine, Nathan. Do you feel okay?"

He nodded, and went back to staring at the ceiling. I let out a sigh, and moved to sit at the foot of his bed. But something through the window that overlooked the hallway caught my eye. A short, creepily-thin girl with chalk-white skin and dark circles under her eyes, but still an intimidating grace, was strolling up to the nurse's desk, leaning forward on the counter and clasping her fingers together. At first, she was smiling sweetly, and said something quick and short, but it soon turned to anger and she was yelling at the pudgy nurse.

"Uh, hold on." I left the room and darted out into the hall.

"--give a fucking shit, just tell me where she is."

"I can't give out any information to those not relating to the patient." The nurse looked terrified of Sarah, and I couldn't blame her. Such a small girl, yet so much power.

"Oh, screw you! I'm her girlfriend for crying out loud!"

Sarah slammed her fist on the counter, spinning around and running her hand through her hair frustratedly. She looked as pissed as they get.

It was weird seeing her. She was different. A little taller, but much more thinner, her cheeks hollow. Her blond hair was brushing her shoulders, the bottom half with the pale blue streaks. It looked more like a cheap wig than actual hair, the kind you buy at a dollar store.

And then she saw me.

"Isabelle," she breathed, her eyes widening.

I didn't even say anything, didn't show any emotion, no anger, depression, anguish, or whatever. I kept my face firmly grim, my eyes empty, my muscles loose, and walked away, with my head down. I took one look at her, and left in the opposite direction.

Twenty Five
chapter twenty-five: Sarah (Everything)

"You're fucking where?" I boomed into the phone, feeling incomprehensible horror drip down my face like water, completely dominating all emotion.

"Where is she?" David rudely interrupted, his eyebrows furrowed. He looked genuinely concerned, but right now, the nosey douche bag needed to keep his thoughts to himself and shut up. Until I'm done talking on the phone with this girl, the guy needs to shut his trap and not be a nuisance. I snapped at him to be quiet.

"Is that David?" The gnawing betrayal was evident in her tone. I could almost picture her right now, mouth slightly ajar, gorgeous features churned into a resemblance of skepticism. Maybe shaking her head, biting the inside of her lip and scolding herself for having not seen it coming from someone like me; the kind of person that's pretty much bipolar to everyone, and acts the worst around those she cares for most. God, I am such a bitch. What is wrong with me?

I gulped, clenching my jaw. I chose not to respond to the question and only muttered that I'd be there in five minutes. I hastily hung up, throwing it into my bag with more force than my precious Nokia deserved.

David raised his eyebrows at me in mild surprise, a question hanging in the air, which I politely ignored by stalking out of Starbucks. I hope he knew I meant for him to follow, and when I looked back and saw him still sitting at that table with his face in his hands, I shouted at him to hurry his lazy ass and get in the car. It was easy to spot his yellow Lamborghini that he got for his sixteenth birthday. It was parked on the curb, gleaming in the foggy mist.

He pushed the speed limit, going a good ten miles over where we knew there weren't any cops hiding around a corner, prepared to lash out. The ride set my teeth on edge, and the only reason I was allowing him to drive so fast was because of Isabelle. If anything happened to her, car accident, house fire, plane crash, roller coaster malfunction, or even a fucking bombing, I'd never forgive myself for being too late. It's like, just as I realize what an ass I've been, somethings happens and bam, she's in the hospital, again. I don't know if I can take being there again, remembering Matt being raced in and out with blood spurting in all directions. Or David with that gaping gash in his head, how eerily calm he'd been in his unconscious state.

Or Isabelle screaming into the heavens of hell, with shards of glass, varying in size, plucked into her on every single patch of beautiful skin.

I just want to feel her again. I want... to hold that face in my hands, up close so I can see every minuscule flaw she mentally couldn't help but fret over, but was what made her so perfect. To have the ability to make out the curve of her thick lips when she smirks, or the exact mixture of gold and brown beaming in her eyes when she looks at me, mirroring everything I feel for her. I just want her again. I don't care what it takes. She's everything.

I demanded David keep both hands on the wheel when he stretched over to wipe the tears falling down my face. From the corner of my eye, I could see he kept flashing concerned looks, but I was thankful when the main entrance of the hospital bounced into view out of the mash of trees.

"Thank you." My fingers were curled around the handle, prepared to open the door, but I couldn't go just yet. If I wanted to change, to move on and finally take a look at the destruction I've created around me, the chaos I've surrounded myself with, then I have to start somewhere. I can't expect to leap into the heart of it all and have it all turn out perfectly.

I leaned across and wrapped my arms around his neck. He hugged me back, and for a split second, I almost imagined it was Matt holding me right now, giving me the approval to be with Isabelle and sacrificing so much for me. That he never died and he was okay with me being in love with his girlfriend, emphasis on the girl.

But I can't.

Matt's gone, and he's not coming back. I'm on my own, and right now, so is Isabelle. I have to be there for her now. And maybe she can be there for me too.

"Maybe we can still be friends." I smiled uncertainly.

He snorted, and shook his head. "I'd rather not keep the dead dog in the house. Go, she needs you." I wasn't sure what it was lighting up his eyes right now, whether or not if he still felt anything for me. I doubt it, since I'm the worst person alive.

I mouthed another grateful thanks before jumping out of the car, sprinting through the rain. I don't know when it started pouring, but it was refreshing. Like those lame scenes in movies where they talk about how it washed away all the regrets and broken promises, all of the old mistakes, leaving in its wake room for improvement and new ways. I was grinning happily, even though Isabelle might be dying right now.

Though, now that I think about it, she did sound okay on the phone. Not like herself, broken and miserable, but not the voice you'd expect from someone with a missing arm or blood gushing from multiple wounds.

I burst through the doors and found my way to the nurse's station.

"I'm looking for Isabelle Johnson," I ordered tightly. I may be starting over, but I was not going to start with small talk, act polite and calm. I'm gonna cut right to the chase and through a fit to anyone who denies me the right to see her.

"Are you family?" The pudgy nurse squinted up at me through round wire-rimmed glasses, like a Harry Potter Wannabee.

I hesitated. "No but--"

She stopped me mid-sentence, calmly shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I can't give out any information regarding a patient unless you're related by blood."

I sighed, annoyed. The rage was already growing from within, boiling my blood and making heat rush into my face. "Look, I've been through hell these past few months, and I really need to see this girl. About your little policy, I don't give a fucking shit. Just tell me where she is." I was starting to feel like Sam from Supernatural when he was trying to get Ruby to tell her what she was, shouting at her and all up in her business, "Just tell me who--you--are," and getting all red in the face.

"I can't give out any information to those not relating to the patient." She cringed away from me, realizing just what a motherfucking walk in the park I was. Yea, that joy of the idea of seeing Isabelle again I was feeling a few seconds ago? Gone. Stupid nurse bitch.

"Oh, screw you!" I shrieked. "I'm her girlfriend for crying out loud!" I don't know what made me say it, maybe because I felt I had a right to be that to her. Okay, maybe not a right, but once I'm done explaining... everything and proving that I'm going to change, I will be with her.

I turned away, frustrated and ran my hands through my hair, freaking out. What the hell am I supposed to do? I can't just go jogging down the halls of this place, peaking into rooms and trying to find her.

I think my heart just stopped dead. Dead, I tell you.

Dead.

Isabelle is standing only a few yards away from me, her face streaked with old running mascara, her eyes red, and in a ruffled band shirt and grimy jeans. She looks so simple and torn up, but I felt like she was Aphrodite asking me to Prom or whatever. I could barely think, and I felt my eyes bulge in my sockets, like they'd pop out. And then her name escaped my lips, almost like I couldn't believe this was actually real.

And she's not bleeding or physically hurt. No gaping holes, lacrosse sticks, or broken glass.

This is a dream.

I'm dreaming.

I am so not awake right now, because I would break down and just die if it was real because she is walking away from me without a word or any sign of emotion, and I'm just standing there like the stupidest bitch alive.

I don't know what I was expecting. Not exactly for her to come running up to me and throwing her arms around my neck, but definitely not for her to just walk away, leaving a dumbfounded statue alone.

Then my body started cooperating with my brain and I was running after her. "Isabelle, wait!"

She showed no recollection of having heard me at all, except that she quickened her pace and was going at a slow jog now, not even bothering to see where she was going. It killed me that she just wanted to put as much distance between me as possible.

"Isabelle, please, just stop." I grabbed her arm, lurching her back towards me with more force than I intended. It was like I was cringing away from myself.

"What do you want?!" she screamed, rounding on me. Too many emotions for me to acknowledge were steaming in her eyes, too much pain, too much anger.

"I..." I couldn't speak. Not with her looking at me like that. Oh please, just stop. I can't do this. I can't.

Her lower lip quivered, and I wanted to desperately to kiss her, but she was shaking her head. She snorted in more disbelief, and gave one last glare before turning back and taking long strides in the opposite direction again.

"I'm sorry!" I called after her, my legs making me follow her again.

"Oh, you're sorry. I guess that just makes everything okay, doesn't it?" she spat furiously over her shoulder, not stopping.

My heart was pounding hard against the inside of my chest, too hard. My ribs are gonna snap at any moment, shattering under my skin. Air wouldn't go through my lungs. Either anything happening was going to slow and not fast enough, or it was too fast, like my pulse. It's too much. I shouldn't have done this.

No. I need her. I need her, I need her, I need her.

"Look, I get you're upset but--"

"Upset? You think I'm upset?" She finally stopped now, and was facing me again. But I think I liked it better when she was walking away. This side of her was freaking scary. "Sarah, it's been three months since I've seen you. Three fucking months. I called, I stopped by your house, I asked around, I fucking emailed you, and never, not once, did I get a single sign from you that you even wanted me to know you're alive and not lying in a ditch somewhere."

I looked around me desperately, as if there were someone who could help me. I hate talking. I'm so terrible at it. I just wish this was a movie so I could kiss her and it would tell her everything and make it all okay.

"I know, Isabelle, believe me, but--"

"But what?" she interrupted again. "You're sorry? It's too late for that, Sarah. It's... it's just too late."

She started walking away again, her hips swaying adorably, but in a more determined way. Like she knew she wouldn't be turning back this time around. I don't know what overcame me, or made me say this, because I know it's the most selfish thing ever and completely self-absorbed. But I did, and I can't take it back.

"You don't know what it's been like!" She stopped once again, but didn't face me. "He's dead, Isabelle. I know you were together and you loved him but... he's my brother. He was. I knew him my entire life, he was always there, and now he's just gone. I made his girlfriend cheat on him with me, and then he just died. He died. He's dead. Okay? I lost my brother, and going to you didn't feel right. It felt even worse than before, when he was alive, like it would be so much more bigger of a deal." My eyes were stinging, my vision blurring, and I couldn't see for a moment. "You don't know what it's been like."

And then she burst out laughing. The whole clutching her abdomen, head tossed back, and teary-eyed laughter. Completely and utterly random. She's laughing at me, after I opened up and finally acknowledged his death and said it out loud. Those two words, he's dead, I said it out loud and now she's cackling like a mad woman.

"My sister's dead, you insensitive rhymes-with-witch."

At least she had the decency to quote Easy A.

The first thing I thought, and I'm ashamed to say, was Isabelle has a sister?

"My dad died when I was kid. My mom's an abusive alcoholic and she's blamed everything wrong with her life on me for the past five years. I've had to pay rent every now and then because she can't hold a decent job for more than a month or two and spends most her money on booze." Isabelle was crying now, and her lip was swollen from biting it so much. She couldn't look me directly in the eye, only staring just above my shoulder, or at the wall, sometimes the floor. "And now? The boy I love is dead, the girl I love abandoned me, and my mother broke my little brother's arm for standing up for me. He's only thirteen.

"Sarah, I know these past months have been hell for you, but they have not been any better for me. But I still tried. I tried to help you, I tried to get you to come to me and open up. You didn't even have the decency to even text me that you wanted to be alone or needed to."

I swallowed the dry lump in my throat. How did I come here feeling enlightened, but now I'm the worst person alive and I know it too? I realized, now, that I was always selfish. It was always about me, even before Matt died. I was freaking out about a time I almost died, something that shouldn't even be that big of a deal, while Isabelle was carrying all of this on her shoulders and I never bothered to ask how she was. I should have known she wasn't okay or that something was wrong. I should have gone to the end of the earth to find out what it was. I should have seen something.

But I didn't.

"I.... I didn't know, Isabelle," I whispered, unwittingly taking a step closer to her. She didn't move away, but I could tell she wasn't anywhere near ready to forgive me.

"I'm sorry this has been hard for you, but you can't do this. Not now, not ever. If you wanted to make up or get together or whatever it is you're here to do or say, you should have done it weeks ago." I thought she was gonna walk away again, but she stood still. Immobilized.

I shook my head, now close enough so I could feel her breath beating against my face, like the wind of a bird's wings. It was hot, and smelled sickeningly sweet, but so perfectly Isabelle. I took her hands in mine, lacing my fingers around those angelically soft fingers, and clenched my jaw.

"I miss you." Even to my own ears, I could hardly hear myself.

She licked her lips, her eyes locked on my own mouth. The temptation was too strong for the both of us, but I knew it'd be too violating if I closed that extremely empty gap, and she was in too much pain because of me to do it herself.

It was just us, right now. Nothing else going on. You know how in those movies, you see two people, but everything around them is just a blur, unrecognizable but enough so you can tell that time's slowed around them? Yea, well, it's like that now. Nothing else is going on around us. It's just me and her in this world, all that pain I've afflicted on to her, how much anger she has for me, and how desperate I am to win her trust back. Not win her directly, because she isn't a stupid prize at a carnival. She's just everything.

"Nothing I can say can fix what I did." My voice cracked, but I didn't bother to clear my throat. "It's been so long that I have seen your face. I want to make up right now. I wish we never broke up. I know we were never actually together but... you're all I want. You're all I need. You're everything. And.... if you believed when I said I'd be better off without you, then you never really knew me at all. If you believed when I said that I wouldn't be thinking about you... you thought you knew my truth but you're wrong. You're all that I need."

The birth of a smile tugged at the corners of her red lips, and she attempted at a calm voice as she pointed out "You just quoted three very different artists right there."

I half-heartily laughed, though it was more pained. "It seemed to fit the... circumstances."

I could feel her breath shaking, uneven, against my face. I hated how much she was suffering, how much pain she must be containing to herself, and all of it wasn't even what was going on. The sister I didn't know of, the long-gone father, the deranged mother, and the afflicted brother. She's lost so much more than I have, and I'm only making some of it worse by being here.

"We're over, Sarah." I couldn't help but place my hand on her cheek, the skin honey-like and warm. I noticed I was closer to her height now, only a mere few inches shorter. She leaned into my hand, closing her eyes at the feel of it.

"Don't do this," I whispered, trying so hard to not cry again. I can't in front of her. I have to be strong. She's the one with the right to cry. Not me.

But I can't lose her again. She's so beautiful, inside and out, with her giddy smile she has on when we're kissing, or that high note she reaches when she's defending herself, or someone else. How willing she is to listen to anyone's problems. Losing her, that's something, right? No, it's more than something. As I've repeatedly said numerous times, she--is--everything.

A tear fell down the cheek I was holding on her face, and with my thumb, I wiped it away. She looked me in the eyes, and I knew she she still loved me. She had to. It just couldn't be possible that I could feel so much for her, while she felt nothing. It wasn't humanely achievable.

"I can't lose you."

She leaned closer to me, pressing her forehead to mine, as if trying to tell me everything she was feeling, all the reasons she couldn't give in, wouldn't let herself, with a single touch. It might as well be working.

With the most sheer agony and misery soaking into her tone, her lips twitching and the tears falling harder, she murmured "You already did."

Twenty Six

chapter twenty-six: Sarah (Someday)

I feel like such a stalker. I mean, who calls 411 to find out where someone lives so you can ambush them and hopefully lock them in some bathroom? Alright, I'm taking a leap of faith and hoping if I go to her place she'll... I don't know, do something.

Expectations to be forgiven would be too far-fetched and irrationally unrealistic. So I'm not aiming for that high. But maybe we can actually have a normal conversation where neither of us is sobbing while the other one walks away, then we might actually start making progress. Just... figure things out. She can't possibly think that after dropping that bomb about Texas I will suddenly be capable of letting her go and just sit back and watch. No, completely out of the question.

It's been a little over a week since I saw her. What? I've been planning. Maybe not some big "grand gesture" as David suggested, since that's not really my type of thing, but just what I want to do. I know she's at school every time I go (which is actually every day, thank you very much) but, being a senior, tasks she can find in methods of avoiding me aren't exactly difficult to locate. So, being a desperate creep, I found her address.

Unable to contain my excitement, I leaped down the winding staircase with a broad, childish grin before bounding into the kitchen. My dad, as usual, had already left for work, and only Mom was there, reading the newspaper with her reading glasses propped on the bridge of her nose. A glass of orange juice and some pancakes were in front of her.

"Hey Mom," I greeted, stepping towards where she stood at the counter. Still, she looked surprised to see me. I can't blame her, considering all the times I was gone before dawn and home after midnight without so much as even a note. I think she knew what a mess I had been, but that didn't stop her from unleashing her fury and shrieking at me in Spanish after enveloping me in a suffocating hug. I wasn't grounded, mainly because we both knew those restrictions wouldn't stop me from going out. I think all that mattered to her now was that she didn't lose her daughter, the only kid she had left.

"Hi sweetie. You hungry? Work called, I don't need to go in, so I made us some pancakes." She spoke almost uncertainly, as if it were a challenge to even force out the words. Careful, like one wrong phrase would be it and I'd take off again.

I sat on the bar stool across from her, propping my elbows on the fine marble. "Actually, I'm about to go out. I'm going to see a friend."

With an amused smirk, she practically blurted "Is this friend a boy? Perhaps a very cute boy?"

I snickered, rolling my eyes. To be honest, I actually missed her. You know, setting aside the rebellious compulsion to defy her every order. I mean, no matter how much any of us want to deny it, we secretly, deep down, somehow can't help but enjoy that feeling our parents give us when no matter how old, they'll always think of us as that eight-year-old little kid asking to be pushed on the swing.

Trying to keep the smile on my lips alive, I reluctantly came clean. "Well... I'm going to see Isabelle."

The cup paused a few centimeters away from her mouth, and she completely froze. I could see that shatter in her eyes at thinking of Matt, how she suddenly just got a tone paler and her jaw was set more firmly. Her fingers clasped harder around her cup, and I saw how she forced herself to swallow the drink.

"Is that cool?" If she wasn't okay with it, I'd just sneak out later tonight when she was asleep. Who knows, maybe she was more... excited... at night.

Her jaw twitched, and after a noticeable hesitation, she assured me it was fine. Then she cleaned off her face, kissed me on the cheek and handed me a twenty. "For the cab. I have some errands to run. I'll try and be home to make you dinner."

It was only ten in the morning, so I frowned at her spending more than four hours of "errand running." Oh, yea, I'm just gonna spend hours on end buying new curtains or rugs. You know, shit like that.

I shook the feeling off and watched my unassumingly distraught mother stumble out of the door hurriedly, wishing I'd never brought up the idea of anything relating to Matt in the first place.

I don't know how long I sat there in regret, contemplating over every single option I had, before I dragged myself upstairs and threw on the first shirt and jeans I found. I almost decided to wear something else, as these items of attire were loose and baggy, when just three months ago they fit fine.

I jumped down the stairs, grabbing the twenty on the table and jumping into my boots and jacket, and threw open the door with house keys in hand.

"Oh hey."

She was standing there on my porch, looking worse than yesterday, with her nose a slight purple and more crooked. Jane was presented before me looking more apologetic than ever, and no where near prepared or willing to be here.

"Uh, hi." I don't know why I looked behind me. Like I had someone to hide or that if either of my parents were home, it was Jane I should be concealing.

She looked like she wanted to come in, but I shifted my weight and leaned against the door frame, blocking her entrance. Jane saw the denial and her face twitched, but she kept her calm. "Can we, um, talk?"

"My favorite pastime doesn't exactly consist of getting called a dyke, so I'm gonna have to pass," I snapped. I moved forward, making sure to shut the door behind me. I never even got the chance to pass by her an inch, she slid to the aside, denying me my exit as I had done to her with an entry.

My name. That's all she said. With her hand on my forearm, and not even looking at me, all she could say was my name. It was enough. Sufficient to understand what she came here to say. As if it had been unclear before.

"I'm sorry. I just... I don't want to lose my best friend to some high school crush."

"It's more than that," I insisted defensively. "Isabelle is everything to me."

She just stared at me, biting her lip worriedly, and tried to get to me. You know, rush past every barrier like Isabelle does effortlessly, see who I am, understand my reasoning, and just get it. "Did you mean it?" When she acknowledged my blank expression, she went on. "When you said we were done. Did. You. Mean. It."

I just shrugged, and said I don't know. Because I don't. I mean, in our lives, we all fallout with our closest friends and declare that it's over, but a week later (tops) we're strong as ever. Is it even possible for me to cut her out? Would I actually be willing to do it for someone that can hardly look at me and feel happy?

We were quiet for a while. I didn't try and leave again, and she didn't ask if we could go inside, despite the cold. Our breath hung in the air in small clouds for what felt like ages, before, in a low, small voice, Jane whispered "I broke up with Marcus."

Not exactly what I was expecting.

I lifted my head and looked at her, feeling my face distort in a frown. "Why?"

Now it was Jane who shrugged helplessly, and from her expression, I could tell she barely knew herself. "I guess you're just more important than some guy."

I sat down on the steps, taking it in. If she could give up the guy she'd been with for literally years, for me, would I be willing to let go of Isabelle and give it all up?

Almost as soon as the abominable thought tread through my mind, I regretted it immediately. Isabelle isn't someone you just let go. You know all that shit about if you love someone, let them go, and if they come back, they're yours? Biggest load of crap I've ever heard. If you love someone, you're gonna go to hell and back and fight 'till the end to get them to stay, to never leave. You don't just release a person you love.

But what about Jane? She gave up one of the most important people in her life for me. Am I really prepared to cut her out of my life?

"Are you gonna end things with her?"

Even though that was the idea scurrying around in my brain just a moment ago, the way she said it, as if she really expected me to and that it was the most obvious decision imaginable, pissed me off. She has no right to ask me that.

"You're shitting me, right?" She had sit down beside me, and I now looked at her. I saw her cringe away at the fury in my eyes, but she remained sitting in the same spot. Just leaning away. "I can't believe you'd even ask me to do that. Isabelle is the most important person to me. Can you honestly not see that?" I didn't bother to mention that Isabelle and I aren't even actually together.

Jane leaped to her feet, her hands balling into fists, and she screamed "So I broke up with Marcus for nothing!?"

Ugh, not this ass hole again.

I squinted up at her. Even though the sky was smothered with an infinite number of grey clouds, they were still uncannily bright. "It wasn't for nothing, Jane. When are you going to see he's just a washed-up loser and you can do so much better?"

Jane scoffed, offended. I don't know why, considering I actually complimented her, something I don't hand out often.

Yet somehow, what I said was completely wrong.

"You're just jealous of what he and I had!" She jumped off the last of the steps and onto the cobblestone pathway. At first, it seemed as if she were going to stalk off, but she just stood there, looking just above my right shoulder; not at me.

I actually laughed. Well, more snorting snickers, but you get the idea. Me? Wanting to be with Marcus? Most unrealistic and stupid thing I have ever heard. "Believe me, Jane, I'd never be jealous of you in a million years."

Now that was a really lame ass thing to say. It's the insults that come so easily, even though I'm a shitty person if I may say so myself. Jane shrieked at me that I'm impossible, throwing her hands in the air before alas storming off to her car.

I didn't run after her, because I didn't want her to tell me how much of a bitch I am. Not in a sense whereas I don't think I don't deserve it, but more that I know I do. First I ruin my mother's day by bring up her dead son, and now I just basically told Jane she doesn't mean much to me anymore. How the hell am I still hurting so many people in such short intervals?

Twenty Seven
chapter twenty-seven

: Isabelle (Anything But Ordinary)

"That just doesn't work for me," she was saying.

I suppressed a groan. For one thing, Nathan was lounged quite comfortably on the couch, his legs dangling in the air as he read I Am Number Four, while his casted arm was awkwardly and I can't seem the slightest moody or offensive when talking to the woman who would be taking me in. Instead, I only sighed and leaned forward in my chair, my elbows on my knees and frustratedly pinched the bridge of my nose.

"What if you just leave a key under the mat or something?"

In case you haven't caught on, I'm talking to my aunt, Lisa. As far as I've ever known, when she used to come to visit (before my mother turned into a psychotic meltdown), she absolutely loved me, and Nathan even more. So the little bit about us moving in wasn't exactly difficult to get her to agree with once she heard about what our mom did. If anything, she was relieved.

But February vacation apparently does not work for her. She says that she's going to be in Austin to seal a business deal (she works for some hotshot company) almost the entire time, and practically insists that she be there when we arrive. The whole obsessive welcome-home greeting and assisting us in settling in.

In other words, she gave me two options:

Come this weekend so she'll at least be able to spend a week with us until she left..

Or come once she gets back.

"Isabelle, I told you. I'd like to be there when you and Nathan arrive. You told me your mother paid for this months rent in advance, so I don't see what's so terrible about coming her afterward."

I shut my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to control my temper; which, as you can see, has been bouncing from place-to-place lately. Trying to seem nonchalant, I reluctantly agreed at last. I can't push her and be more needy than I already am, or I could lose this chance just as easily.

We said our goodbyes and she hung up first. For a challenging, cold moment, I just listened to the nothing on my phone before calmly pressing the red button. But after a weak hesitation, a frown captivated me and I hurled my phone at the cushioned chair in the living room, five feet (more or less) away from Nathan.

Startled, his head shot up to give me a quizzical but concerned look. "You okay?" With his glistening eyes, it seemed a bit like a rhetorical question, so I just gave a small wave with my hand to assure I was fine and leaned against the counter-top, trying to control the bubbling annoyance.

In the still silence I could hear Nathan gulp. "What'd she say?"

Again, I sighed, and rubbed my temples frustratedly. I don't know why I was making such a big deal out of this. I can choose to leave either sooner or later than planned. It's almost a win-win situation. I can either leave this hellhole in a second, or blissfully try and make my last couple weeks as amazing as can be. So what's the big deal?

Finally I looked at him, and felt my expression melt; turn soft. I even managed to crack an excited, small smile. "Let's start packing."

***

I collapsed in a crumpled heap onto my appealing bed, letting the inviting covers comfortingly wrap around me. I almost let out a moan at how heavenly it felt to be in my bed after so long of being on my feet, running around the house and lifting things Nathan was too small to do on his own. I needed a break.

"You know we're no where even finished, right?"

I didn't bother to open my eyes. "Nate we don't even need have the crap in this place. Most if it is either dad's old stuff, or mom's new stuff. Everything in between those intervals got thrown out already. And you and me? Really, all we need to bring with us is what's in this room."

I heard Nathan snicker, and felt my bed cave in towards where he sat at the corner of my bed and then he laid beside me.

"How's dog-walking going?" I asked, more to break the startling silence that had fallen. Nathan had been assisting those with pets in our aparment complex for a few months to get some extra cash; meaning that in case we were out of food and he could walk to the gas station a mile down the road if he was hungry. I really do give him money when I can, but it's not like I can just support him with my college fund.

"It's good. Mrs. Deliro paid me last week. Guess how much I have?"

I had to smirk at his excitement in his rewards. I remember being a kid, always so fulfilling enthusiastic about the slightest amount of money that was bestowed to me.

Conversation went on like that between us for a while. I have to admit, as boring as it may sound, it was actually great talking to him. We never did this anymore. I guess all it takes to make siblings bond is an abusive mother and an aunt in Texas.

"I'm gonna go out and get some pizza." I rolled off the bed and to my feet. "Meat lovers good?" He winced, almost like the words caused him physical pain. I hastily corrected myself. "Right, vegetarian. Um... plain cheese?"

With a thankful smile, he nodded excitedly.

I rolled my eyes with a playful smirk. "I'll be back in an hour. Lock the doors and don't screw strangers."

It was something Sydney used to say.

As soon as I opened the door, I almost didn't see the neon-blue index card on the mat. I only noticed it because it stuck to the bottom of my shoe and made an unfamiliar slapping sound on the staircase.

Leaning down to snatch it, I flipped it over to read the printed, bold words:

I'd hate to come off as a creep at knowing where you live, but don't worry, I just want to play a game. With your brother, go to 782 Hunter Lane. Look under the seat that can go up and down, forward and back, but never takes you anywhere.

The note sent a shiver down my spine. First of all, the "I just want to play a game" part of it reminded me of Saw, the most gruesome and plot-lacking horror movie I'd ever seen (which I barfed after watching) and secondly it was requesting -- no, demanding I go to probably some crack-house or property of a pimp. Yea, no way in hell.

Then again...

If it actually was some creep, they wouldn't actually give you the idea that they have the potential to be a creep. They wouldn't mention that because they'd want you thinking as abstractly possible away from the ideas of creeps.

It was barely five minutes later that Nathan was fumbling with the buckle on his seat in my car and I was shifting into reverse, pulling out of the rambled parking lot.

"Where are we going again?" Nathan asked nervously, noting my extremely chaotic driving. You'd think I'd want to slow it down a bit, or calm myself after having gone throw what I did, but truthfully, I wanted to take the suggested speed limit and blow it away, hitting a good eighty miles in this fifty-mile-zone. Nothing would be a greater rush.

"I didn't," I replied simply. My eyes flickered to the note on the dashboard. "But do you know where 782 Hunter Lane is?"

From the corner of my eye, I could see him frown as he obviously stated that it was his school. My gum popped in my mouth and I gave him a disbelieving look. He shrugged and went back to his quiet self.

I ran a few lights to get there. It really wasn't about where I was going or what I was trying to leave behind, it really just was because I wanted to feel alive again. I knew exactly what would do the trick, something involving a pretty blond, but I wasn't ready to give in and I was in a Jeep for crying out loud. Why not take advantage of such a sturdy car and speed a bit?

As expected, the lot of Nathan's school was empty, it being a Saturday night around seven. I made sure to grab the note as I got out of the car and locked it, a movement that went noticed by Nathan.

"What's that?" he asked curiously, weaving around the car to stand beside me and look at the note. Since I never bothered to keep secrets from him (I didn't lie or hide things, some aspects of my life just don't come up in conversation), I let him read it. "Who's it from?"

Now it was me who shrugged. "No idea. But it beats packing and pizza."

Nathan made a tsk-tsk sound, and his nose scrunched up, as if he were debating this. "I dunno, I mean Lui Lui's has pretty good pizza."

I snickered and ruffled his hair before letting my arm drape over his shoulder as we walked. I was a good foot taller than him, but he still put his arm around my shoulders. I had to force myself not to break out in an awh because he was on his toes to reach.

The doors to the junior high school were locked, so for a third time I read the note. Look under the seat that can go up and down, forward and back, but never takes you anywhere.

"I suck at riddles," I commented more so it could be said than for any other reason.

Nathan, being the genius of the family, politely took it from my hands and stared intently at the words, as if he were putting a mental puzzle together. He kept muttering under his breath "I know this from somewhere..."

Just as I was going to give up, tell him to forget about it, and take us to our favorite pizza place in this washed up town, he squealed like a little girl and shouted "Zoey 101!"

I raised an eyebrow and smirked. "What?"

"Remember that show? There was that one episode they sent people all over with these riddles on these cards and one of them was similar to this."

I laughed at him. I couldn't help it. I mean really, that show got cancelled years ago. Does anyone actually think about it anymore?

"Alright, well what was it then?"

"A swing."

I frowned, thinking about it for a second, before it dawned on me. I suppose it works. In a mind-fuck way. Since I didn't know my way around this place, Nathan led me around through the different buildings to the elementary playground, where a long line of swing sets were, and a complicated tangle of a different variety of twisting, long slides.

I looked at the ground below the closest swing, but nothing was there. Nathan flipped the plastic over, and behold was a neon blue envelope, taped to the bottom of the swing. I snatched it up before Nathan could, eager to find out what this was all about. There were two index cards within, both of different colors, and I pulled out the blue one first.

I presume you've seen Zoey 101 then? Or would that be Nathan? Tell me later, when we finally meet. But first, I'm going to send you through a series of dares. If you wish my identity to be revealed and discover the true key to being joyful for a while, then I suggest doing them. On the red card is your first dare.

The curiosity getting the better of me, I ignored the abnormality of all of this and moved on to the next card.

With the phone I know you have, I want you to take a picture as proof and send it to the number on the back of the envelope. If there is no proof for all the dares I have assigned, you will never see me.

I looked back at the envelope and read in the unfamiliar number. Then I continued on to finishing the script on the red card, which was my first dare. I snorted and showed it to Nathan, who cackled madly, holding his sides. I rolled my eyes at him as he managed to blurt out between his laughs "They know you so well!"

***

After snatching up the pornography magazine, On Our Backs, I lunged over the counter, hurling myself out the front door. I laughed wickedly over my shoulder at the chubby security guard lumbering after me and the screeching store clerk, both of them no where near matching my sprinting pace. The alarm rung out chaotically as I swept out the door, clutching my right hand to my stomach and gripping the magazine tightly on my other hand.

I threw myself into the driver's seat and hastily switched to drive, stomping my foot on the accelerator. Tires screeched and Nathan enthusiastically kept screaming at me. "Go, go, go!"

We sped away from the gas station like all hell had broken loose, and my mouth was stretched so wide in a joyous grin that it hurt, but I didn't care. Nothing was more fun or energetic than being dared to steal a gay porn magazine and actually doing it.

"That was awesome!" Nathan shouted, also with an enormous smile, staring at my phone, the one that he'd used to take a video with of me stealing the magazine. I can't remember the last time I saw him so happy. Then his smile faded and his face shot towards me. "What about the security cameras?"

It hadn't been mentioned in the dare to do so, but I unzipped my sweater and pulled out the tape I had had clutched to my abdomen, the one I had pulled out before stealing the magazine. I held it in the air with my eyes glued to the road, still grinning, and tossed it over to him.

Okay, maybe this isn't the most responsible way to spend a Saturday evening with your kid brother, but we both really could use a night like this. Where the limits are endless and we can do things we'd never dream of ever finding ourselves doing.

"What's the next dare?"

Not wanting him to see inappropriate things in the magazine, I pulled over and flipped through it myself. A familiar-looking blue envelope fell out and into my lap. It'd been the only copy of this magazine at the store.

Congratulations, you can now assume the role of a disgusting pervert. Hooray! Okay, moving on. For your next dare, I want you to go to Pete's Pore and order the special.Have Nathan eat all of it. Send pictures. Isabelle, I want you to order the most expensive entrée. Enjoy.

It didn't seem very odd or extreme in any way, but I knew Pete's Pore was a bit like a bar/cafe. You were waited to tables, but it was very rural and seemingly old-style.

I could tell Nathan was looking forward to having been dared to do something, and anticipating what the special might be. Truth be told, this was the longest string of words he'd ever said in one sitting. He would not stop talking. Anything that could hold the slightest bit of interest, from the car's licence plate in front of us to something he heard on the radio, he expressed his opinion for it.

I loved every bit of his happiness.

I pulled into the place. It had an old-west look to it, with it's old wooden shutters and wooden gate. We tread inside, and I made sure to keep Nathan close, because it seemed a lot like a bikers place, and he was a scrawny little kid.

We got our table and the waitress skated (as in on roller skates) towards us a few moments later, notepad in hand and a bored look on her pale skin. She must have had five piercings on her face alone, and her ears were studded all along the edge.

"Um, hi." She looked at me after I spoke. "Can he get the special and er-- what's your most expensive dish?"

She eyed me wearily, but opened her mouth anyway. "I guess it'd be--"

"Great," I interrupted. "I'll have it. And two cokes."

Hesitating briefly, her eyes flickering from the both of us suspiciously, she then turned on her heel and skated away.

"What do you think the special is?" Nathan repeated for the eighth time.

I shrugged and resumed my doodling on a napkin. Truthfully, it was Sarah's name, but who cares about little details?

"Here you are. One special and a Kobe Beef." The plates were placed in front of us, and I had to laugh at loud. Nathan's eyes bulged at what was on his plate. Five monumental, revolting red pickled eggs were uninvitingly plopped on his plate, glaring up at him.

I burst out laughing, reaching for my phone. I had to take two shots because the first one was blurry from me laughing so hard. Nathan took a small nibble from one, before spitting it back out.

It took him a while to eat it, and I had to take numerous pictures of him eating it to prove he did actually have all five. I made sure to send the one of my dish as well, and once Nathan was finished (looking ready to barf I might add), my phone vibrated.

It was a text from an unknown number, and all it said was Flip the card over.

Frowning, I reached into my pocket, awkwardly positioning myself so I could pull it out, and slipped the card out. The back side only had three words, but it was enough.

Dine and dash.

Snickering, I didn't bother to show it to Nathan. Instead I handed him my keys and told him to go wait in the car.

I don't know how I could send proof of this, so I just ran out of there and snapped a picture of the waiter yelling at me "Miss, your bill!" on my way out.

It wasn't as exciting as the thievery, but it was still fun nonetheless.

It was as I was driving off that I noticed the new envelope in Nathan's hands. He was smirking.

"Where'd you get that?" I narrowed my eyes.

"It was under the windshield wipers."

I guess I should have felt creeped out, since that means whoever this is was following us, but it just made the idea more thrilling. "And?"

"It's for you."

He handed it to me, and I held it up above the wheel so I could still see the road while reading it.

Go dumpster diving in the alley on Main Street. Find one of these envelopes.

***

Really, it just went on like this for a while. Out of the ordinary, insane dares that kept Nathan's mind whirling and my excitement level high enough for me to be mistaken as stoned. By the end of the night, a part of me was dying to know who would take the time to do this, while the rest of me couldn't care much, other than the fact that it made Nathan thrilled beyond recognition.

Finally, it was the last dare. I had just gone shopping in a mall for fifty condoms (money had been provided) in a Lady Gaga costume, acting like nothing about what I was doing as abnormal. I made Nathan wait in the car because I didn't want anyone to think the condoms were for him and I. Talk about disgusting. Anyway, so the clerk had given me a blue envelope, saying "This is from your friend," after I bought the condoms.

Now I opened it in the car, and the words didn't have any meaning to me or anything that revealed a sort of dare. Just another address, and I checked the back to make sure nothing was there.

But I knew what the address was. And either it was just a coincidence, or I knew exactly who this was.

It was a local arcade.

Twenty minutes later, we were pulling into the place, Shrillex music vibrating the ground from even outside, and neon lights momentarily blinding me as I got out.

"What now?" Nathan asked, literally jumping up and down as we made our way inside.

"No idea."

The second I stepped inside, it was like a deja-vu moment. That arcade I had gone to all those months ago with David, Sarah and Matt, this was practically a duplicate of it. Same positioning of counters, same games, same area for jousting, and same prizes. It was like they were part of a branch of companies that strung arcades all over.

As we walked passed the counter, my skin crawling and my mouth dry, the cashier guy stopped us. He didn't even say anything, just numbly handed me an envelope and went back to giving a customer tokens. I almost didn't want to open it, because I knew already. I should have guessed it sooner, because who else would do this?

I can't do this.

Except my fingers weren't obeying, and they roughly tore it open. A red card fell to the floor, and I swiftly leaned down and grabbed at it desperately, as if it were a life preserver. Nathan didn't notice my anxiety and just jumped to see over my shoulder and read it.

Buy Nathan some tokens. Tell him to go crazy. Then come into the Photo Booth.

I didn't even pause.

Twenty Eight
chapter twenty eight: Sarah (When 3's A Crowd)

"Keep on walking. This one's taken," I snapped at the lovey-dovey couple giggling as they pulled the curtain back. Looking at the joyous pair of them, all mushy and sweet and heart-melting made me want to burst into tears or scream at them. Instead I calmly continued to lean against the interior wall, giving a flick of my wrist, dismissing whoever came in. Unless, of course, it was a lone tall girl that happened to be a replica of Aphrodite.

I fidgeted with my fingers, falling onto the bench before anxiously rising back to my feet. My heart thudded awkwardly in my rib cage, and my hands were shaking uncontrollably. In such a small, enclosed space, it was hard to pace like I would prefer.

Biting on my lip nearly hard enough to draw blood, I whipped out my new phone again. As expected, there were no new texts from Isabelle.

No proof to send.

I scrolled through the various pictures. The one with her giving a thumbs up with a beefy dish in the background, along with Nathan looking ready to throw up while eating pickled eggs was the first that came up. Another was with her ass in the air, legs flailing out of a dumpster. One of her kissing an old man at an elderly place. Nathan trying to fit through a basketball net at the park. There must have been a dozen pictures like those, all her or Nathan committing the most odd and twisted acts.

I was about to open the video of her stealing the magazine when the curtain was yanked back roughly. I opened my mouth to direct another sickening couple away, but the words died in my throat.

It's only been a week and a half since I've seen her, but damn.

I think my heart just had an orgasm attack.

Orgasm attack: similar symptoms to heart attack, but is instead a wonderful sensation.

I felt my jaw drop, gaping at her, but I couldn't find it within me to shut it close and not make a complete idiot of myself. I felt like one of those nerdy losers who's crushing on the popular kid and is continuous drooling on her text book. Except let's face it, that'd never happen because I'm hot as the disco stick Lady Gaga's riding on.

Gross image. Sorry.

Seemingly unnerved by my presence, she wordlessly sat down, facing the photo booth screen. I too remained silent, but continued to remain standing, unable to do anything else but just stare at her luxurious dark hair.

She squinted up at me with a bored expression. "Are you going to sit down?"

As if on command, I sat down and stared at the screen. It said to insert four quarters. I stared blindly at the bold red words on the screen for what felt like agonizingly long years before doing as requested and putting the money in the slot. I pressed the button.

I sat back leaning against the wall and stared at the camera blankly. Isabelle did the same

The camera flashed.

I lolled my head on my shoulder to look at her. She was already focused on my eyes. It's been so long since I noted those golden flairs in her brown eyes, and now they stood out brighter than ever, glistening as if under a spotlight. My eyes trailed down her face, from the minuscule freckles randomly splattered on her light ivory skin. The arc on her elegant eyebrows, the crook on the bridge of her nose, the hollow in her cheeks, the curve of her dark lips, all of it was so perfect in the most imperfect of ways. I wanted so badly to touch her face again, knowing I'd never take her for granted if I could feel her skin one last time.

Finally she spoke again, but it was still questioning my actions. "What were the dares all about? What was the point?"

Another flash.

I gulped, and let out a breath of air I hadn't been aware of holding. I saw the wisps of hair flicker from my breath on her face, and I was thankful of the Stride gum I'd been endlessly chewing on all day before showing up here.

I managed to find my voice.

"I wanted you and your brother to have some... fun... after all the pain you both have been through." I felt flustered and embarrassed a bit at saying that, considering typically the depth of my heart has lately involved a bottle of tequila.

The birth of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips until she was half-smiling. It was a sad smile, though. Like a goodbye, almost, but also just not. When you see this smile on someone you'd go to the depths of hell and back for just to make them happy, then you'll know exactly what I mean. Until then, just bear with me.

I don't think I'll ever forget what she did just now. And I'm talking about the tiniest, most nominal details.

With her eyes plastered to my lips, she hastily mumbled under her breath "I miss you," before closing in, smashing her mouth to mine. Her hands flew to hold both sides of my face and she rose to her knees so she towered over me, her lips swiftly dancing against mine.

Another flash.

I pressed myself into her, snaking my arms around her neck and pulling her closer. Wherever our skin touched, where her lips kissed mine, I felt like a fire had started. My mind was screaming, my heart pounding and my skin alive with sparks as I dug my hands deeper into her hair. No one really requested any entrance but within seconds our tongues were tangled feverishly and my legs were around her waist while she had me pinned to the booth wall. Her hands retreated from my face and trailed along my figure, her fingers light as a feather as they brushed under the cloth of my shirt and against my bare skin. Her touch was electrical, making me incredibly aware of every movement she made; the way she tilted her head to the right ever so slightly, probably unknowingly, or how... hungry and desperate her mouth was in it's battle with my own.

Just as I moaned into her mouth longingly, the camera flashed for the last time, and Isabelle immediately pulled out. However, really she was just detaching our lips. We remained in the same position.

Her heavy breathing was hot against my face, fluttering my own choppy bangs. I noticed I was just at loss of air as she was; we were practically gasping.

The back of my eyes started to sting with un-shed tears. "Please don't leave," I whispered.

I kept myself under control. I didn't cry, my eyes only went glossy as Isabelle reached a finger to brush a few strands of hair out of my face and behind my ear. It fell back in my eyes. With a small smirk, she used both hands to hold my hair away, cupping my face in her palms.

She kissed me again, but it was more intimate. Soothing and gentle. I felt my own lips quiver throughout it as I held back the waterworks.

When she pulled away, I laughed shakily. "Before I met you a rarely cried. Now I can barely hold back the tears when I think of you." It wasn't really meant to insult her, and she knew that's how I wanted her to take it, for she smiled as well.

"I have to leave," she said on response to my first statement. My breath hitched in my throat and it became harder to maintain my calm expression. "It'd be impossible to while taking care of Nathan. He's my little brother. I'm all he has. I can't just stay here because it's an inconvenience to move. Not living with some adult figure to run things would be irresponsible and just... not the best I could do for him."

My head fell forward onto her chest. I clamped my eyes closed tightly, biting my lower lip. My chest ached, and the only thing keeping me from breaking down was that I was finally in her embrace. Her arms were around me, her hair cascaded around my own head, and all I could feel was her skin. It was a perfect situation under the worst circumstances.

"I..." My voice cracked, but I forced myself to go on. "I can't... breathe... without you."

I lifted my head now to look at her, but she wasn't meeting my eyes. "You have to," she murmured.

Anger boiled in me, and once again I made myself bottle it up. But it was so intense, so strong that the words fell from my lips before I had the chance to stop them. "Does the fact that I'm fucking in love with you mean nothing?" It wasn't so much the words themselves, but more the way I said it. How harsh my tone was and accusing.

"Of course it does." Finally she looked into my eyes, but I was suddenly wishing she hadn't. I think I would have melted into nothing right there if I just let go and not bother to remain as calm as can be. "I do love you, Sarah. I've been trying to convince myself I don't but I do and that isn't going to change. Not now, not ever. I can even see myself trusting you again and giving us a chance. But..." Goddammit. I knew there was a but. "I have to think of Nathan."

I chucked half-heartily. "You know, I'm starting to have really strong feelings about this brother if yours."

She laughed, and it was enough. Enough to numb the pain for right now. Like alcohol to an alcoholic or heroine to a junkie. Weed to a stoner. It made me soar a thousand miles above cloud nine and my stomach flutter.

"He's probably used up what I gave him by now."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "I told you to buy him a lot."

She snickered, shaking her head. "You didn't say I was gonna end up pressing you to a wall and practically needing to tear your clothes off."

"Which is still an option, by the way. Clothing is always an option."

Isabelle rolled her eyes and effortlessly untangled me from her, lifting me off her lap. I would have been turned on by her easy-going movements if I weren't wanting to just crawl in a hole for eternity and die.

Isabelle led the way out of the photo booth. She leaned down to grab the strip out of the slot before turning around and holding it out to me.

The first picture was us just awkwardly staring at the camera. Then us looking at each other. Then Isabelle kissing me. And finally me kissing her back with her hands up my shirt. Gotta love pictures that capture those moments and make you willing to give anything to relive that moment forever.

I flicked my wrist in a small wave. "Keep it. I can't have you forgetting me in Texas."

She cocked her head with a sort of glare, almost like she was mad at me for even mentioning such an unlikelihood. "You know that isn't going to happen."

I shrugged.

Nathan, or who I assumed to be him from the pictures, sprung out of nowhere, rushing up close to Isabelle with an enormous grin on his face. His features were alive with excitement, about to reach bursting point. Just seeing a little kid with a cast so thrilled, a kid I knew that didn't have a great life, made me smile.

"This place is so cool!" he squealed. "I swear, whoever dared us to come here-- who's this?"

He'd noticed I was standing close enough to Isabelle to be considered not a stranger creeping on their conversation.

My jaw opened slightly and I looked back and forth between them. Isabelle seemed just as caught off guard at me being registered as I was, so I hastily recovered. "I'm Sarah. I... I did the dares."

He frowned the second I said my name, his eyes flickering briefly to Isabelle. Something clicked in his head, and I could see the things he was putting together through his eyes. This kid was smart, I could tell.

But he didn't say anything not relating to the dares.

Nathan wanted me to stay, even after I said I should probably go, and Isabelle didn't seem to mind my presence all too much. It hurt to see her with him, how sisterly she as to him. How protective. It made me think of Matt, how sweet and caring he had been to me. How thoughtful he was with my parents. How he would call me a slut, but not actually mean it. Every little aspect of Matt flooded back to me.

And honestly?

I was fine.

I was fine listening to Nathan go on and on about a game he'd found in the arcade. I was fine with eating greasy pizza that stuck to my teeth or being so close to Isabelle and not touching her or dragging her into the bathroom.

In reality, I wasn't moving on.

I was just learning to fucking deal with it already.

Twenty Nine
chapter twenty nine: Isabelle (Miss You Love)

...Three weeks later...

"You have to join the club. You'd be like..." She paused, in search of the right term. Then her face lit up like a little kid at the longest candy counter in the world. "Our secret weapon!"

I shut my locker door and raised an eyebrow, shifting the weight of my books into the opposite arm. "Mandy, it's book club. You don't compete."

She shrugged absentmindedly, flicking her wrist in a pfft, whatever way. To be honest, whenever she did that it reminded me of Sarah. And she did it fairly often. Then again, is there anything that doesn't make me think of that stubborn, feisty little blond?

Mandy matched my pace as I started walking to our next class. "Fine, whatever, but everyone that's signed up is just so boring." She sighed dramatically, feigning a dreamy look.

I rolled my eyes.

"I mean, all they ever talk about are--"

"Shirtless guys?" I finished for her, wiggling my eyebrow mockingly. "Would it help if the topic of discussion were girls in bikinis?" She pursed her lips and slapped my arm playfully, scoffing at me.

"Just because I'm gay, that so does not mean you can joke about it."

I shrugged, angling my body to weave through a crowd of over-excessively laughing jocks. "No jokes were made. I simply said what you were going to." I smiled innocently, which she countered with an unamused glare.

I have to admit, Texas is actually pretty... nice. I mean, I'm not a popular senior class president with football quarterbacks flirting shamelessly with me in front of their girlfriends, but I actually kind of like it. It's only been a few weeks and already I've found an actual friend. Mandy wasn't exactly what society would label as a "loner," but typically she stuck to herself. Undeniably she is outgoing and fun and knows how to have a good time, but she just really does not like the people at her school. Plus being gay in high school isn't exactly a high social status.

"Sure, okay," she snapped sarcastically, though I could see she was holding back a smile.

We entered room 502 together, the first ones to class. I much preferred talking to her in here instead of the hall where Mandy would be called a dyke and I'd be looked right through. "Are you gonna be at lunch today?" She crossed her legs and propped her elbow on the desk, chin in palm.

"Um..." I tried to occupy myself with pretending to be looking through the bag. "Can I borrow your history notes?"

Suddenly her hand was topping mine and she was looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "Isabelle."

I bit my lip and looked up at her.

"If you're gonna call her, just tell me."

Yep, she knows about Sarah. Not everything, though. Don't get me wrong, I trust Mandy, but I just don't want to get attached to her. The name Matt wouldn't ring any bells to her, nor would Sydney. All she knows is there's this girl I left in Maine that I spend hours on end talking to on the phone and texts every period. Mandy was cool in not overstepping her boundaries. She didn't pry for information most of the time and brought up the topic of Sarah rarely; but when she did, it was perfect timing.

Put it this way; this inquisition if whether or not I was skipping lunch to call her was the farthest and most personal she'd ever gone with asking me anything.

Except before I could respond, the bell signaling the beginning of class rung out shatteringly and my phone vibrated in my pocket. Mandy rolled her eyes with a knowing smirk and turned to face the front of the class as more students filed in to the room, assuming their seats.

I took out my phone.

Let's bucket list this bitch.

I grinned. Both Sarah and I had a test first period.

I have to admit that it might be a bit more bearable -- the distance, I mean -- if we just didn't talk altogether. If we moved on and found new ways to occupy our mind every second of the day. But I just can't help it. I'm not mad at her. I forgive her. Once something like that happens, it's hard to just let it go and claim that it was all for nothing.

But no one ever mentions how this hurts like a bitch and makes me just want to scream. I can't remember why I thought this would be the best thing for us. It seems so stupid now, and I just wish I could find it within me to take Nathan and go back. Because every single day longer that we spend apart, I fall for her a bit harder and it hurts more and more each and every time. This... it just seems like one of those things that time doesn't miraculously fix.

***

I dropped my bag down to the floor in my room with an exasperated sigh. "I'm exhausted," I whined, collapsing down onto the bed on my back. Puffs of dust floated into the air around me, and I made a mental note to actually remember to fall asleep in my bed for once.

Sarah laughed, and started to say something, before a loud clatter boomed in the receiver and a never-ending flow of curses rolled out of her mouth.

Now it was me who was laughing, before she snapped at me to shut up.

"You're such a klutz. What is it now, the vase? Or perhaps the TV?"

I could almost hear the scowl in her voice. "Very funny, redneck."

Sarah found the idea that I lived in a five-thousand population town in such an immensely rural area hilarious and claimed that it must be filled with southern rednecks. I took no offense to it because a) it was clear she was joking and b) I wasn't actually friends with anyone here other than Mandy.

"How'd school go?" I asked, flicking the dirt out from under my nails. I kicked my sandals off into the corner. It was weird wearing only tang tops and Bermuda shorts in late February, when everyone in Maine would be bundled in three layers to the point they couldn't move.

"Eh." She snorted. I wasn't sure what to make of that response.

"I totally get your reasoning."

"Shut up. It was boring. How about your hell hole?"

We talked like that for a couple hours before I laid my books out in front of me on the bed, putting her on speaker so I could do my homework at the same time. I probably should have started as soon as I got home because I was loaded with work. Two books to read by next week, four major tests to study for this week alone, a persuasive essay about the death penalty, and the regular homework assigned. Not to mention I'm taking three AP classes. Yet I still stay up until four in the morning talking to Sarah about everything relating to anything.

Sarah and I really didn't talk about school that much. Maybe the people in it, but we didn't talk about what I was going to do about college (a topic I was very behind on) or how much hatred she had for her Chemistry teacher. Half the time we just let silence settle over us, but it wasn't awkward and pressuring one of us to just say something. It was peaceful and easy; comfortable.

"Did you know your fifteen times more likely to get killed by a coconut than a spontaneous shark attack?" she thoughtfully pondered out loud as I was in the middle of a calculus problem.

"Can't say I did." With a smile on my face, I scribbled in my boyish handwriting The limit does not exist. "I'm sure that bit of information will get me very far in life."

"It will. 'Cause if you become a hotshot, A-list screen writer and you happen to feel compelled to do a shark movie, you'll know that, chances are, it's gonna suck."

I rolled my eyes. "I'll keep that in mind."

My phone beeped in my ear. "Hold on I have another call."

"Ooh is it your pimp? Tell him I say hi and if he's interested in hiring a sexual goddess, my door is always open."

I laughed and switched lines. "Hello?"

"Bitch open your window. I got kicked out again."

Without even a word, I groaned and rolled off my bed onto the floor with a thud, holding the phone to my ear. As I opened the window, I went back to Sarah on the phone. "Can I call you tomorrow? Mandy's here."

She made a yuck noise, as if she had eaten something revolting.

Laughing, I concluded "Bye Sarah."

"Sweet dreams whore. Don't sleep with her unless I'm invited."

I hung up with a goofy smile on my face. Mandy noticed and yelled at me to stop fantasizing and throw the rope down.

"What'd you do now?" I asked minutes later, popping a Skittle into my mouth. She lay sprawled on my bed while I did my homework. She brought food, so I told her she could spend the night. Lisa was out of town until Thursday and Nathan (who had amazingly fit right in at school) was sleeping at a friend's house.

"I had a girl in my room."

"I thought your mom knew you're gay?"

"Oh she does. It's just the girls clothes were on the floor and my mom doesn't believe in sex before marriage."

I frowned. "Gay marriage is illegal in practically all of the southern states."

"That's what I said!"

The screen on my phone lit up just then, and I practically lunged for it, knowing it was Sarah. The only other person I talked to was Mandy, who was right here, and Nathan, who I doubt would text me while at a friend's house in a new town.

Mandy made circles with her thumb and index finger on both hands and banged them together, gesturing to my phone. "Oh shut up."

I miss you already.

"Oh for fucking out loud!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. Startled, I just stared wide-eyed at her. Mandy was a pretty chill person, never letting anything get to her with an easy-going style. She responded calmly to the asses at school, she didn't freak out over little things, and always expressed her opinions peacefully. "It's her, isn't it?"

I know what you're thinking. That she's secretly crushing on me or this is going to turn into one of those things where she gets so frustrated with me for always talking to someone a thousand (more or less) miles away. But I can promise you -- it's not.

Mandy released a heavy sigh, running her fingers through her strawberry-blond hair. For the first time, it seemed as if she were having a hard time keeping her cool; something that really is a piece of cake for Mandy Couture.

"What are you even doing here, Isabelle? I don't know this chick, but I can tell you want her naked in your bed every single night."

Well that's one way to put it.

"Who are you trying to kid here? I've known you not even a month and already I can see you don't belong here. Isabelle, you're a good friend and I've loved actually having someone around to turn to. But... just go. You're not going to ever be happy here."

I laughed shakily, hugging my knees. "A little harsh, Gretch."

She cocked her head with a concerned expression, her light eyes melting with sympathy. "I'm serious, Isabelle."

This really isn't like her. When I said before that Mandy is a cool, understanding person, I meant it. She got that I really don't want to talk about Sarah to anyone, just to her. She rarely touched topics that made either of us cringe or were too emotional. So why now? Am I just really that obvious?

"I like you Isabelle, I think you're pretty great, but I don't care if I have to drag your ass to the airport. If you're not happy, you shouldn't be here."

I jutted out my lower lip and turned away. I don't need her to tell me what I already know. Does anyone get it? I'm trying to think of Nathan and how hard it would be growing up and being raised by an eighteen-year-old girl. The only way I'd even be able to afford that and college is if I accepted help from Sarah, which I just can't do. Either it would take her away from her family who has already lost a son, or I'd be barging into their homes and emotionally murder their parents. It's one thing for your daughter to have a girlfriend. One thing for your daughter's girlfriend to be the dead son's girlfriend before he died. And a completely different situation to find out all at once just as the girl's moving in. I'm not doing that to them, no matter what Sarah says.

So yea, I don't exactly have many options here, now do I?

"Look, just butt out, okay? I'm handling it and I can take care of myself."

And just like that, she did. She shrugged, popped a Skittle on her tongue and asked how far I was in The Oddyssey with a completely normal, partially bored look, as if she didn't just freak out at me about the way I was living my life.

Somewhere during the conversation, I managed to hastily send a reply back to Sarah without Mandy yelling and swearing at me.

I miss you too.

Chapter Thirty

i know i just did a chapter for isabelle but i'm doing it again.

chapter thirty: Isabelle (Walk On Water Or Drown)

"Fuck off," Mandy mumbled sleepily, jerking her leg in my direction out from under the covers of my bed, trying to kick me. She missed.

I slapped her butt and called her a fat ass before dashing out my door. I knew she hated when anyone went near her booty or called her fat -- considering she was rail-think. In conclusion, I wasn't too surprised that no less than five minutes later, Mandy emerged grumpily into the kitchen and thwacked me in the back of the head with a string of colorful words.

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" she snapped when I tossed her a bagel.

I shut the fridge and tossed the empty milk carton in the trash. "If by that you mean a pain that lets you spend the night and allows you to make us late to school? Then yes, I am very aware." I calmly took a bite from an apple.

Mandy's eyes darted to the clock on the oven and she shrieked indecipherable swears, abandoning the bagel and running out the door to my car. More to drive her further into panicked insanity, I took my sweet sweet time gathering my things and finding my keys. The only reason I came out of the house was because I knew Mandy would hijack the car if I didn't hurry up. It's a bit of an understatement to just say school is important to Mandy. Whether it was her dream to get into the same college as her dad, Brown, or just because her mom had an insane paranoia that all of her seven kids would be a failure and Mandy was desperate to prove her wrong, I have no idea.

"I have a test first period you whoring ugly slut!" Mandy screamed when we were halted by the third red light in a row.

I gave her a mellow sideways glance. "You need to chill."

"I'm not gonna fucking chill!"

But she did.

I pulled into the school twenty minutes after our first class had already started, and Mandy leaped out of my open Jeep before I had even stopped, running like an old lady in her four-inch high heels.

I parked and crossed the courtyard slowly. I was in no rush to get to French, since we were just watching a movie I had already seen. The halls were silent and deserted, and the hall monitor would probably be in the other wing.

I pulled out my phone and pressed my first speed dial.

"About time," a familiar sexy voice greeted me on the second ring.

A toxic smile flooded my lips unintentionally, and even if I tried I wouldn't be able to erase it, the butterflies swarming my stomach unbearably.

"I didn't think you'd even be awake. It's like six-twenty there."

"I joined crew. We wake up really early."

I poked my head around the corner of where the East hall intertwined with the North to make sure I was still alone before responding. I just needed to make it to the bathroom and I could talk freely. It took me a moment to realize what she had said. I snaked into the bathroom before laughing chaotically.

"You? In crew? Sarah, you hate water. And it's winter. Isn't everything frozen?"

We talked for a while longer until the bell rang, and I noticed I'd missed all of French. Whatever, I could live with detention. When I snuck out of the bathroom and to my locker nonchalantly, Mandy was waiting there with a raised eyebrow. She gave me no speech, but her stink eye followed me all throughout the day, just daring me to talk to her again.

It was Friday night when Mandy came to my house again. She held up a brown paper bag with an innocent smile, and I knew for whatever reason she didn't want to go home tonight. I never told her about the lunatic of a mother I had myself, but I think she was still aware of the empathy I had for her situation. Her mom may not be abusive or a drunk, but she still wasn't exactly ideal. Point being, I knew she had enough chips and candy in the bag to feed a crowd of football players, and the bag slung over her back would most likely have a change of clothes and her homework.

Lisa was home, in her office, and had stocked the fridge. She didn't know how to cook, but at least she supplied food for me to toss together with a variety of sauces and spices in a pan to prepare an at least decent home-cooked meal for Nathan. In return for her doing so, when she really didn't have to, she would actually have something other than take-out or frozen macaroni and cheese for dinner. I didn't mind.

I told Mandy to go up to my room and I'd be there in a second.

I poked my head into Lisa's study.

"Hey, is it cool if Mandy spends the night?"

Lisa didn't even lift her head from her desk, where a jumble of papers were, varying in color and size. A mumbled 'sure' was all I got.

Honestly, she wouldn't make a good parent and I can see why she didn't have kids. Don't get me wrong, she's a wonderfully hearted person with an understanding of situations that's hard to find in most people, but she wouldn't know how to take care of Nathan and I if we hadn't grown up the way we did; learning to be more independent each and every day. We just need her for the house, really. We just ask permission to have someone over, which she will most definitely always agree to, and leave a note on the fridge or something if we weren't going to be home. Just think of her has a supervisor that doesn't really have to do anything but be there.

I walked into mine and Nathan's room to find Mandy was sitting cross-legged on my bed, grinning at Nathan, who was blushing like a little girl.

"Dude..." Mandy squealed breathlessly at me. "Imagine this. Your brother. My sister. Together. It's like we're fucking sisters."

I fell onto the bean bag on the floor between the two of them, sinking in to the soft material. "I'm assuming you mean the general idea of them together, not the idea of them actually in bed together. Because I really don't want to picture that." Nathan's cheeks deepened a darker scarlet and Mandy rolled her eyes.

"You're such a skanky whore. Can you pass the bag?"

"You know, you call me that a lot. It's not exactly a term of endearment."

It wasn't a direct quote, but close enough. Mandy got it.

"Shut up, Olive."

I reached for the paper bag she was referring to and threw it at her. After shuffling through it, she threw the Skittles at me and resumed the original topic. "Back to what I was saying. Nate's taking Kayley to the Spring Fling next Friday."

"It's still winter."

She kicked me with her booted foot and screamed at me to look at the big picture of this. I winked at Nathan briefly, because I knew he hated these things going into depth in a conversation, just merely looked over, a quick response, and then move on to the next thing.

To satisfy Mandy, I lolled my head and looked at Nathan fully. "No further than first base, and if you get her pregnant, I'm cutting it off with pliers. Got it?"

With a smirk, he nodded.

Mandy just wearily shifted her eyes from the two of us, back and forth, as we had this silent conversation of mocking her. Giving up, in understanding the bond Nathan and I had, she laid back in my bed and kicked her shoes off. "Listen, biotch, I needa talk to you. Can the little man leave the room for a second?"

Without even looking away from reading the skittles box, I calmly asked "Does it have to do with your crush on Jenna Thompson?"

Nathan snickered and Mandy shrieked at me. Somewhere between her colorful language she said it didn't have to do with Jenna.

"Then he can stay. He won't butt in or repeat it to Kayley or anyone else. It'll be like he's not even there."

Mandy hesitated. "I don't think you want him to hear this though."

I suddenly left like that girl from A Cinderella Story. The one with Hilary Duff. Not Hilary, but the bitchy cheerleader when Austin was breaking up with her and was all preppy and "Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of my peeps." Peeps? Honestly.

So you could say I was dreading what Mandy had to say, but I carelessly shrugged anyway for her to go on, popping more skittles into my mouth.

Mandy sighed, still unconvinced that Nathan should hear whatever she had to say. I can't say what is so important that Mandy would be all serious about again. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a white envelope, unsealed and blank, and tossed it at me. It fell into my lap, and for a second that seemed to drag on for hours, I just stared at it. But the curiosity got the better of me so I lifted the flap gently and pulled out a familiar strip of paper.

"It's a plane ticket."

My mouth was dry, but I managed to respond. "Thank you, Captain Obvious. I can see that."

It was to Portland, Maine, departing from Austin. The date and time was set for tomorrow, Saturday, at noon.

"You're going."

I looked up at Mandy with frowning eyes, but she was fiddling with her fingers, staring hard at them. Nathan was also not looking at either of them, finding the frail blanket on his bed very interesting. It was hard to tell whether or not he agreed, or if he had already known about it.

I dropped it onto the floor after staring at it for a good minute and put more skittles into my mouth, keeping my expression blank. If I actually let myself think about my reaction, I'd realize I never used to be so guarded and seemingly emotionless before Sarah; the queen of isolating herself in a mental cage that not only kept her within, but blocked others out. Funny, considering she's been the one to open up and now I'm acting as if my every move is being analyzed under the spotlight.

"Isabelle."

"Did you get what Mr. Collins was talking about in Physics? It sounded like a load of bull to me."

I pulled out a random text book from my bag an opened it to a random page, and started talking about the first thing I laid my eyes on. Mandy repeated my name, and my voice rose. "Or how about I just lock myself in the bathroom and blast music--" I was rolling to my feet now, grabbing my iPod and speakers from the table, strutting into the bathroom, "--until you learn to fucking mind your own business." I was practically yelling by then as I slammed the door, jamming the chord into the outlet and hitting shuffle. So What blasted out, a song I vaguely remember Sarah belching out on some occasion I had been with her and Matt.

I locked the door and sank to the floor, my back to the door. I buried my face in my arms, hugging my knees, and trying to keep the sobs under control and at a minimum.

A knock rapped on the door. I expected it to be Mandy, but instead it was Nathan's maturing voice that broke through the music.

"Izzy, let me in."

I love him to death, more than anything, so I weakly gave in almost immediately and kicked my speakers to knock the music off, unlocking the door as well.

Mandy didn't follow Nathan as he hesitantly walked in. He looked at me sitting on the floor, and sat across, resting his back against the sink. He was getting tall.

"It wasn't your fault, you know."

It was like flicking a switch, because her face popped into my head. He wasn't talking about Sarah or Mom or Matt. It was the person that subtly haunted me in the darkest of my dreams and whispered in my ear when I was most despaired, most hopeless and vulnerable, in a tone that she had never used with me when she was alive, tearing me down to the ground.

Sydney.

"You don't even know what happened," I retorted with a monotone.

"Yeah, I do." He paused to see my reaction. I didn't have one for him. He went on. "You couldn't have known there would be a short circuit."

I looked away from his intense, concerned eyes. I hated it when he handled me like this. Like he was older and in charge. Like I needed someone to look after me. Well guess what? I don't. I can do just fine on my own.

"If I hadn't been there and just gone to school instead of faking being sick, she wouldn't have gone home before work to check up one me."

"You would have died, Isabelle. If she didn't come you would be dead right now."

I balled my fists up on my sides, concentrating harder on forcing out the memories than Nathan's words themselves. "Maybe I should have died. At least Mom wouldn't be so screwed up and distraught. At least Sydney would have taken better care of this family and not watch it fall apart."

Nathan shook his head sadly. "You don't get it. If any of us had died in that fire, Mom would still fall apart. She's a mother. Losing a kid is the biggest loss any single person can have. And you don't know what Sydney's perspective would have been in all of this. You don't know. Because she hasn't gone through what you have. She didn't lose as much as you have lost."

"Is this leading anywhere?" I snapped harshly.

Nathan sighed, gulping. He wasn't a talkative kid, or very outspokenly deep, but I guess we're all going through new territory and away from our comfort zones. "You don't know what could have happened, and you're never gonna get anywhere thinking about the what if's. No one does."

"That's great."

I distantly pondered whether Mandy was listening to this conversation. If she was, she'd either be wickedly confused, or catch on that I'm a poster girl for Fucked Up.

"Izzy, Sarah makes you happy. I know you think you need to be here for me or spend the rest of your life babying me, but I'll be fine with just Lisa. Go. Go be with Sarah, go to Bowdoin, your dream college, and stop worrying about me. I'll be fine by myself here."

My lower lip quivered, and I bit it stop myself from crying as I stared at him. Why does he have to be so mature? This would be so much easier if he were a selfish brat and was pleading me to stay. A stray tear escaped my binds and slid down my cheek, and I wiped it away.

I got up to my feet and held my hand out. Nathan looked up at me with a knitted brow, but took it. I lugged him to his feet effortlessly and walked out into my room. Mandy was still on my bed playing with her fingers, focused, but she now leaped to her feet with wide eyes, once again looking back and forth between us.

"I'm not deciding anything permanently right now." I gulped, trying to swallow the dry lump in my throat. I let a half-hearted smile bleed across my pale face. "But Mandy, I really hope you have two tickets, because you're coming with me tomorrow. I want you to meet Sarah."

Thirty One
chapter thirty-one: Sarah ()

I'm not gonna lie. Being so tragically and physically far from Isabelle after just getting her to forgive me and look at me the same way she used to was hell. And I'm talking the depths of agonizing torture. Sure, I got a glimpse of her voice every now and then -- okay, hours on end at night, but still; It wasn't enough. The short texts didn't cut it, and the phone conversations were harmless and never really went into any depth. Now, this is coming from someone who really isn't that deep. It's just not enough of her.

Fuck, I miss Isabelle.

"You need to calm down," David commented unhelpfully. We were at Starbucks again. Since Isabelle moved, you'd think I'd be drawn more towards him in the periods I wasn't talking to her, but if anything it was the opposite. We talked less, and frankly, this was the first time it'd been just me and him for a while now.

I took a sip from my frappuccino and glared at him over the rim of the cup.

"It's been barely two hours," he went on, also swallowing a gulp from his coffee.

"It doesn't matter what she's doing. Isabelle always texts back right away. No matter what she's doing."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't you think you're being... a little, oh I don't know, clingy?"

"You did not just say that."

"I did."

I flipped him the bird. Things like being "clingy," as David like to put it, didn't really effect us. I knew it. There is no way in hell I could ever have too much of Isabelle or have her talk enough endlessly to me. I mean, I'm pretty sure her views on this are more or less equivalent, but David might have a point. Maybe. I am the one with no life and the most that I ever do is get a drink with David.

Right, Isabelle has Mandy.

Fuck I hate that girl.

It's not like I have any rational reason to be jealous other than the fact that she's gay, which is a moronic reason. It's like being jealous if Mandy were a dude named.... Manny or something. So when I say it really isn't that Mandy's gay, I mean it. I guess it's just that every single day, Isabelle finds a way to inch Mandy into the conversation. Mandy did this, Mandy said that, or oh, Mandy's here so she has to fucking go. I swear, the girl is everywhere.

Maybe I am clingy.

David went on about some girl in his chem class that he was into right now. I'm actually quite surprised he was into me for so long, and was able to withstand a long-term relationship. If there's one thing I know about David now that I don't use him as a toy, it's that he has a new point of interest every week. I guess this week it's Gigi Rogers.

Halfway through his description of how cute she was when she got flustered, my phone skidded across the table. I'd only been giving him half my attention to him before, with my chin lazily propped on my left hand, but now I wasn't even listening.

Where are you?

It was Saturday around two, so obviously I wasn't at school, which was what we found ourselves talking about when we ran out of things to say. I hastily replied Starbucks with David, why?

When she didn't respond and David noticed he'd lost my attention, he sighed and changed the topic. "Are you going to the basketball game tonight?"

I shrugged, sadly retreating from my phone. "Wasn't planning on it."

"You wanna go?"

It was actually an innocent proposition. He wasn't asking me out, and frankly he looked bored. "I have nothing to do, so sure. Gigi gonna be there?"

He mockingly held a hand to his mouth. "My God, is that jealousy I hear? I didn't think it was possible for you to ever get jealous about anything." The way he said it, so knowingly, made me know he was referring to Isabelle.

I rolled my eyes with a smile. "Oh shut up. "

Grinning, he lifted the cup to his lips and averted his eyes to the TV screen in the corner behind me. From what I could hear, it was some game, but I knew David was just one that found it difficult to pay attention to anything with a screen in the room. I snickered and leaned back against the metal chair comfortably.

As I was scooping the whipped cream from my drink into my mouth pleasantly, David kicked me under the table.

"What?" I snapped, returning a good kick back in the shin. David didn't even wince when I looked up, because his eyes were still glued to somewhere behind me. He didn't say anything, just his eyes wide as he continued to stare.

He tapped my arm and jutted his chin in the direction he was looking, gesturing for me to turn around.

After kicking him again for good measure, I put my frappuccino down and turned around in my seat to see a Starbucks full of people, mostly with laptops as they're writing so they look like they're about to get out some huge bestseller.

I turned back to face David with a what the fuck are you on? expression.

Now I could see he was staring intently at the floor-length window with the backwards Starbucks logo, so I once again faced behind me. My eyes scanned over across the window, looking. At first glance, nothing out of the ordinary lashed out at me, nothing attention-grabbing. Then I did a double-take and felt my throat seize up and my blood run cold.

Isabelle stood there in her simple black hoodie with jeans and a somewhat playful smirk growing on her face, all the while freezing her ass off. She gave a little wiggle of her fingers in a wave, and for a moment, it was just us. David wasn't behind me dumbfounded. There weren't wannabe's all around me and I wasn't hating this washed-up town. There wasn't a hot chick practically glued to Isabelle's side. It was just her, smiling like through a million sheets of rain, not looking at anyone else but me.

Then Isabelle broke the haze by looking to the girl next to her, who could pass for her own sisters; both owning the same towering height and luxurious dark-hair-dark-eyes-fair-skin complex. Isabelle takes her by the hand, still beaming, and deliberately leads her to the entrance.

Before I can even understand what's happening, Isabelle is standing in front of me, letting go of Mandy's hand, and leaning down in front of me with a crooked smile. I open my mouth to say something -- anything -- but nothing even comes out. I don't even have it within me to tell off this girl that's staring at me blankly.

Smiling, Isabelle loosely brushes the hair of of my face and cups it in her hands, connecting her lips lustfully to mine. On instinct, my body flew to hers, pressing her as close to me as physically possible. I would have shredded her clothes to bits and pinned her onto the table hadn't we been in public. "What are you doing here?" I practically moaned into her mouth. Isabelle giggled into my own, her arms curling around my lower back and lifting me off the floor before pulling her mouth away from mine.

"I missed you," she whispered, nudging my nose with her own.

"That sounds like a complete understatement."

She laughed and nodded. It's safe to say that we both forgot about the company we both had, because I didn't even snap at the girl that was clearing her throat and Isabelle didn't greet David. Instead I just pushed off the floor, on my toes, into her further, but my lips only brushed hers lightly. "What are you doing here?"

I wish I'd never said anything, because her arms retracted and she almost pushed me away from her, awkwardly coughing. "Right um," she mumbled, curling her hair behind her ear. "Sarah, this is Mandy, Mandy, Sarah. She got us the tickets."

I wiped my mouth where Isabelle had smeared her Chapstick on to it, and let my eyes bore into Mandy. She didn't seem afraid of me, or intimidated, which irked me. I stood up taller, crossed my arms over my chest, and raised an eyebrow, but she just continued to examine me with an expression I couldn't read.

Wanting to throw something at her, I looked away from Mandy, suppressing the urge to spit on her heels. Like seriously, who wears Stiletto's in New England in the fucking winter?

"How long are you here for?"

Isabelle's assured and confident grin had gradually faded when watching my stare off with Captain Intensity over there, but it was now sparked alive again, though not as strong. "Monday night. It's a Senior-Skip day."

My eyes darted to Mandy once more before I eased up and let myself focus only on Isabelle. "Great." I forced a smile. "Is... she gonna be here the whole time?" I tried to inch in some poker-face to that inquiry, because truthfully, I wanted Mandy to poof into infinity and never show her face here again. I'm fine with her in Texas and making it bearable for Isabelle, but the second she showed up here, I despised her even more. I just don't want Isabelle to know that.

Isabelle didn't even look at her. She just snaked her hands around my low waist, under the cloth of my designer tee, and whispered huskily into my ear "Play nice."

My knees shifted to Jello, my mouth running dry. I licked my dry lips as Isabelle backed away, smirking with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

Shaking my head to clear it, I looked back at David. "There's a game tonight. She can go with David. Right?" I chucked darts at him with my eyes, pleading to agree. One day to be with Isabelle, free of Mandy, was all I needed.

David ran a hand through his short hair exasperatedly, cocking his jaw. I could tell he didn't want to take some newbie to a game and have to find a way to explain who she was and why he wasn't in her pants (he knows she's gay). But nonetheless, he half-heartedly smiled and said "Sure, whatever. I'll take her."

Thirty Two
chapter thirty-two: Isabelle (Holly Would You Turn Me On?)

"I missed you so much," I murmured into her hair. Her petite figure was enveloped in my arms, her velvet skin radiating nothing but warmth and sheer bliss. Sarah's thin arms wound around my waist, a little startled, but I never wanted to let go.

I hated to say I was a bit glad when Mandy and David left. Sarah and I walked around town for a little bit, her nimble hand and long fingers clasped with mine, and we talked about how she was doing, her family, had I heard from my mom, how Nathan was holding up, etc. But after a while, I abruptly stopped in my tracks and held on to her like it was the last time.

She was chuckling into my own hair at my behavior, her breath sending chills down my spine, but she wasn't pulling away. I never wanted time to pass. I wanted it to freeze, right there. There aren't words to describe how much I need her. Anything would be inadequate and never suffice to the actual meaning. Holding her is a greater rush than cliff-diving. She's got this hold on me that terrifies the shit out of me, and I just know I wouldn't be able to live without her. This feisty little brat had me head-over-heels, six feet under the stars.

Reluctant or not -- I couldn't tell -- Sarah loosened the gap between us and shimmied away from me a little. A bemused smirk sparked her dazzling lips, an attempt to hide an entire smile.

"I know," she countered like the cocky devil she portrayed herself as.

I bit my lip while my eyes shone, sparkling.

Anticipating my thoughts, she took a hold of my hand. "Come on. We'll take a cab back to my place. No one's home, so you don't have to worry." She gave me this heart-fluttering wink that buckled out my knees and made my mouth condense.

I dazedly followed her as she hailed down a taxi with an impressive, ringing whistle, her hand still holding mine.

The driver didn't want to risk taking the dirt road that wound down the hillside to her house, so we assured him it was okay to leave us there. It was a short walk, and I don't think either of us really minded.

The leftovers of snow from February was still sprinkled on the ground, the trees bare and white, and it had dropped a few degrees since we'd left town. Sarah nudged herself under my arm, winding her own around my back, and stuck her other hand in the front pocket of my jeans. Her touch made my stomach tighten and heart pound.

"Don't be such a perv," she noted, playfully hitting at my stomach.

I turned my face away, showing mock oblivion. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She snorted, but only pressed herself closer.

My Converse were starting to become moist from the inch of snow, my toes stinging, and the icy wind was slicing through my sweater. But the cold or distressing feeling wasn't really on my mind. All I could think was senseless trains of I'm with her. She's here. We're together. And the occasional dirty thought, which occurred a bit more frequently than occasionally, but psh, details, right?

At about halfway, I had surprised her by swooping her up in my arms, holding her at the waist, and running into a small field, forcing her down with me into the snow. Her startled screams were hinted with joy, and she playfully fought against me, slapping at my chest and struggling to get back onto her feet. But I held her down, tickling her nose with mine. Eventually, she stopped squirming, and innocently curled herself together under me, her big eyes staring into mine intimidatingly.

I kissed her, wiping the snow out of her face. It was really a lingering peck, but as I pulled out, she took hold of my lower lip between her teeth and grazed it deliberately, with a slow pace that made it seem like minutes on end. A shudder creeped down my back, and she laughed at my reaction.

"Tease," I hissed into her ear as I pulled her up off the ground.

She shrugged helplessly. "What can you do?"

Sarah was right. No one was home. No cars in the garage, no tracks in the driveway, no footprints in the snow. The once peaceful house seemed... dead. Cold and lifeless. A reflection of my memory overshadowed my thoughts, and I could just imagine for a moment all the times Matt had swung me in his arms and played with me in the snow, or carried me up his porch. I shivered the images away.

"So, I don't know about you, but I'm starving." Sarah threw her coat onto the dining room chair, as well as my damp hoodie, and she opened the fridge.

I wasn't surprised she was hungry. I'd bet if I lifted up her one-size-two-big band shirt, her ribs would be lunging out at my, her hip bones cupping the little skin left. It gave her this delicate aura that made me feel like she would snap if I tried another stunt like the one before again.

"Yeah, totally." I shook my head to stop thinking about her fragility.

"Um, how about pizza?" she offered, picking up the phone and twirling it in her hand. "We could watch a movie downstairs, pig out... make out... you know." She smiled innocently.

I took the phone from her, standing close enough so our bodies were touching, and placed it back on the receiver. "No one delivers this far out."

Inching a little closer, she wiggled her eyebrows, slighting standing on her toes. Her sweet breath was hot against my face, steamy, and her voice husky. "Well, then what do you suggest?"

I snickered at her, despite how close I was to ripping her clothes off. "We could just make it, genius."

***

"Sarah, spoons don't go on pizzas." I brushed off the cheddar cheese and plucked out the spoon buried underneath the layers. She must have left it when we were spreading the sauce and cheeses across the dough. I tossed it into the sink where it clashed loudly.

She shouted something from the bathroom that I didn't catch.

We still had enough dough for two more pizzas, and I stuck this one in the oven. A second later, Sarah emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was wet from the flour she'd just washed out (that I flicked at her) and now as she cautiously approached me, I did it again. She pursed her lips, clicking her tongue, and crossed her arms. After a moment of staring at me, she lunged for the table and grabbed a handful of cheddar cheese mixed with tomato sauce and threw it at me.

I screamed and ducked to the floor, hiding behind the kitchen island. I heard her scoop up another handful, and rapidly reached my hand up for the bag of flour.

Most of the prepared ingredients was scattered around her kitchen, and it was when we were cleaning some sauce off a cabinet that we came across her parents' liquor stash. We drained half a bottle of some Spanish drink, Aguardiente (which translates to Fire Water) that left us giggling and bubbly for the afternoon. And quoting two of the most brilliant comedies to have ever been written.

"You can't sit with us!" Sarah screeched with furrowed eyebrows and a serious frown. She was swaying her seat, and the cowboy hat she had discovered was crooked on her head.

I wrinkled up my nose. "Fine, you can walk home bitches."

She spun and twirled up to her feet, dancing around the kitchen to a nonexistent tune, as she made her way to one of the cabinets. She slammed her fist on it and shrieked "What? Who told you?"

Swiping a lock of hair across my face to act as a mustache, a faked a mature, wise expression. "Where are you from originally?:

She said something in Sweedish, or so she claimed, but she just kept repeating shcnieder at the end of every string of nonsense.

We watched Easy A, still drinking the Fire Water, and discovered there was an orange in almost every single scene. Whenever we saw one, on some level of our drunken state, popcorn was thrown at the screen and a hilarious fit of giggles and snorts would wash over us.

Later that night, maybe five hours after we finished the bottle, we were dozing off and the alcohol was ebbing away, introducing an unwelcome pounding that stabbed at our heads.

We were on the kitchen floor, eating the pizza that had gone cold, with her head in my lap. I twirled and fingered her hair, running my fingers through it, and forcing myself to stay awake. I wasn't sure if Sarah was even conscious. I really wished I had asked where her parents were and if they were going to get home tonight. I'm not sure they'd be pleased to find their dead son's girlfriend in a chaotic kitchen, tipsy and their daughter passed out.

A murmur of a moan fled from her mouth, and she turned on to her side, her hand frisking over my leg in search of my fingers. I held on to her hand, and bent down to kiss her forehead. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled crookedly at me.

My ring-tone sliced our moment in half, and it hurt my ears. Grimacing, I shifted up to take it out of my back pocket. Sarah had to sit up as I did so, and she didn't look happy. But she was crawling on top of me, crawling closer with a devious smirk, as I answered.

"Uh, h-hello?" I stammered. She sat down on my thighs, and her hand was trailing down my cheek and around my neck, grooming my collarbone.

"You get any pussy yet?"

"Mandy?"

"No, it's a priest. You're going to hell." In the background, a crowd was cheering and a buzzer went off. She muttered a "Jesus Christ," at the noise and I heard her shuffle around. "Yes it's me. I was just calling to ask if you're done yet, because this David prick is driving me insane. He's telling all his buddies I'm his girlfriend. I swear to fucking hell, if he tries to stick his slimy tongue down my throat, I'm gonna--"

"I don't need an image," I interrupted, sitting up straighter as a message for Sarah to lay off for a second. She pouted, but I knew she could hear every word. I could see the anger flaring like viscous flames behind those eyes, along with the hatred. I mouthed an apology.

"I can get pretty descriptive."

"I know you can."

"Yeah. So you gonna come get me any time soon or what? It shouldn't have taken you this long to jump her. Unless she's stringing you through hoops and teasing the hell out of you. I'd have to admit, I'd like her style if that was the case, but babysitting this puppy is exhausting."

Mandy was talking excessively, her words rapid and exhilarated. It was an effort for me to keep up in my state. I knitted my eyebrows, pinching the bridge of my nose, and sighed.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. We'll be there in twenty."

Thirty Three
chapter thirty-three: Sarah

Why can't she fucking take care of her goddamn self? Does she really need Isabelle prancing around and holding her hand through everything? David isn't that bad. You just need to get used to him. He's pretty cool once you warm up to him. I mean, sure, it was easy to believe he might be saying Mandy was his girlfriend, but Christ, suck it up. We haven't seen each other in ages. You get to see her every fucking day.

I had a feeling my fuming fury was intoxication the air in the car, rolling off like waves, because Isabelle consistently reached across the seat and rubbed the back of my neck comfortingly, giving me a sideways smile.

And every time it did, my anger leaked away more and more.

"Am I that obvious?" I leaned my head against the leather so I could stare at her. She took a hold of my hand between us, her other on the steering wheel. I don't know why, but I found the way the small muscles in her forearm rippled when she turned incredibly sexy, and I was tempted to make her pull over.

But no.

Mandy needs her.

Call the fucking media.

We pulled up to the high school, and parked a block away because the lot was full. The game was clearly still going on, and we passed a group of people trying to set something on fire. It was obvious they were drunk. Isabelle protectively snaked her arm around my waist and led me away from them. I smirked and called her cute for it. She flushed but I kissed her on her heated cheeks.

We walked into the school, hands interlaced, and the cheering was loud throughout the halls. We found Mandy waiting outside the gym, leaning against the wall and twirling her phone around in her hand. She didn't seem bored or miserable at all. In fact, she seemed to be just peachy. She was talking to that Gigi chick, the one David liked, and seemed to be a little to knowingly friendly with one another. Or, at least, Mandy was making all the moves and Gigi was just following along.

Slut.

Okay I'm sorry. She's not a slut. She's just--

Slut.

I'm allowed to hate her. It's rational for me to blow silly things she does out of proportion. Like minor flirting is converted to being a skimpy whore.

"Hey Mandy," Isabelle greeted coolly, keeping a safe distance from both Gigi and Mandy. Mandy smiled again when seeing us, and gave her a gentle hug. Even I have to admit it was an okay hug. No like ass grabbing or something.

"Hey Butch."

My first thought was that Mandy was a clone of Jane.

"...means the sex went well, eh?" She winked at me and nudged Isabelle in the rib with her elbow, a devious smile on her face. Gigi looked a bit rejected, and eventually walked away, forgotten by the pretty exotic-looking girl.

I interjected before Isabelle could with a sly grin. "Mind-blowing, actually."

Mandy snorted at Isabelle's expression and I had to laugh as well. I kissed her again on the cheek, lingering a bit longer, but she playfully slapped me away. "W-We didn't have s-sex."

Mandy nodded, unconvinced. "Right. You'll give me the details later. Anyway, I'm starved. What's good here?"

***

"Oh, mother of Jesus Christ. Sweet baby Jesus," Mandy groaned, her hand over her stomach. She'd stuffed her face with a full entrée, and then a magic brownie dessert. Now she was complaining about her food babies and screaming about the pain.

Drama queen.

Except since I convinced Isabelle it would be perfectly okay for her to spend the night at my house, even with my parents coming back tomorrow morning, I had had to let Mandy as well. We had like two guest rooms, so it wouldn't be a lack of space posing an issue. It would be this skank intruding on me and Isabelle, who would be sharing my bed with me thank you very much.

Mandy fell asleep in the cab, back, and Isabelle prodded her to wake her up after I glared at her when she suggested just carrying her inside. I showed Mandy the guest room, and showed her the bathroom, and she just gave me a hug. Isabelle was in the other bathroom brushing her teeth.

"Thank you," she whispered into my ear.

I patted her back lightly, supressing a grimace and avoiding furious thoughts about how she smelled like Isabelle. "Um, for what?"

She pulled away a little shyly. It was the first time I had seen her high demeanor be toned down, with her eyes so wide and innocent. "Just... she was a mess. I still don't know her that well and she tried to hide it, but she was hurting so much and... just..." She was such at a loss for words, that in any other situation I'd be laughing. But in this moment, my heart was heaving and my throat closed up. Why did it feel like she was telling me I was a cause for Isabelle's pain?

"When she was talking to you, or about you, she had nothing to hide. It all just shone clear. You make her want to live and look forward to the future but live in the moment at the same time. She's so... just happy right now and... I can't even express this in words. You can see in her eyes how much more alive and whole she feels when you're on the other end of the phone, especially after all the shit she's been throgh. She really loves you, Sarah."

Well thank you Dr. Phil for that inspiring speech.

No I'm not even kidding, my eyes were tearing up.

I hastily wiped them with my sleeve and bit my lip, taking a step away from Mandy. I cocked my jaw and pursed my lips. "Whatever," I muttered, shaking my head. I don't like her, I really don't. But for the first time, it was so easy for me to believe it. For so long, this thing I have with Isabelle was heavenly surreal and just a dream I had the luxury to participate in, etched in with a frequent nightmare occurrence.

But now, with this Queen Slut Bitch Skank Whore selling it to me straight, it was like a tsunami hurtling forward and slapping me in the face.

She loves me.

She loves me.

She fucking loves me.

Isabelle fucking Johnson is in love with me, and I am even more irrevocably in love with her too.

I didn't let Mandy see my sudden epiphany or even allow it to show through in my expression. If anything, I probably looked annoyed. Frankly I was, because she next ruffled my hair like I was a fucking animal, with a bemused, knowing smirk.

I left her there and went back to my room. I painted it black after Matt died. It used to entirely be the chalkboard paint all over like his was, and we used to sit in there and just draw for hours. But now it was all black. I'm sure in the summer, it would be a bitch due to the floor-length window facing the east where the sun rose, but there was room for pure white walls, and maybe some gold designs. Isabelle would like that.

Yeah.

"Hey butch," I greeted Isabelle, slapping her ass and skipping passed her.

"That's offensive," she retorted, rolling onto her back and sitting up to wriggle her eyebrows at me.

"I'm not a generally kind person."

She smiled. "Yeah, you can be a naughty bitch sometimes."

I cocked an eyebrow, pushing myself off the wall to walk towards her. "Oh, naughty, huh?" I whispered, straddling her with my hands locked around her neck. I could taste the arousal in her hot breath.

"Don't pretend that phone sex never happened."

I chuckled. "Oh, so we're going there now? Care to recall how you fucking fell asleep on me last time?"

Isabelle pursed her lips adorably, her eyes drooping to stare at my mouth. Teasing her, I nipped on her lip with my teeth, licking it before pulling away. "Maybe you were just out of key then."

"Oh, I'll show you key," I purred, pressing myself closer and finally connecting my mouth with hers. She hungrily pressed back full on, prepared to hold me to my declaration. Her hands scrambled along my back, scrambling to tear my shirt off. I heard it tear a bit but it was a distant note and I hastily shoved her shirt off as well.

I pressed her back on the bed, caging her and pinning her wrists down, curving my spine. I trailed kisses, drawing away from her mouth colorfully to nibble briefly on her earlobe before sucking on her neck. Hickies were the last thing on either of our minds. The birth of a moan was already touched on her lips, and I grinned against her flawless skin as her hands dug into my hair, pressing my face into her. I explored down between her breasts, and she whimpered, fidgeting with her hands to get her bra off. I temporarily retreated from her chest to kiss her breathless lips, calming her enough to stretch behind her and unhook it in one swift movement. I could see the sparks in her eyes, admiration, and pure love glowing.

For a moment, I could only stare. Every inch of her was perfect. Her perfect round breasts and those cute little puckered nipples, the light curve of her waist and heaving collarbone as her breath was hard. It was all perfect. She was perfect -- and all mine.

I stripped off her jeans and resumed the kissing of her chest. I rubbed my finger continuously over her hard nipple, carrassing it with my thumb, while I gleefully sucked on the other, being sure they both received equal attention. Isabelle was letting out startled gasps, breathing my name hard.

She seemed to realize I almost had her completely naked and to my advantage, because and angry lust fired in her eyes and she sat up, reluctantly releasing my clutch on her. She flipped me over in a single motion, now the one caging me.

"You think you're going to be on top?" she growled in my ear huskily, chuckling. God, she was so beautiful. That face lined with drops of sweat and that dazzling smile. I stretched up to kiss her, but she pulled back, holding my down. I whined, squirming, but she was stronger than me.

"Not fair." I pouted, frowning.

She smiled, giving in, to place a hard but passionate kiss on me. Her tongue swirled in my mouth, making sure to interpret every inch it, but I tackled it with my own and fought back. She sucked on mine and I thought I was going to moan right there. But no. I'd suppress it. She does not deserve that satis--

Oh.

Oh dear.

Oh my God.

Fucking Christ what is this magic?

Fuck fuck fuck fuck don't ever stop.

I realized I was voicing these thoughts because her hand pulled out from under the waistline of my jeans. I realized she'd been rubbing the outer cloth of my panties.

"Someone's feeling good," she stated, licking her fingers. "You're so wet for me."

I propped myself on my elbows. "Not as wet as you whore," I spat, pulling her on top of me yet again. I needed all of her, now. It was not. I was ready. There was no doubt or uncertainty ever, at all. She was it. She was the one and I'd never want nor need anyone again. And for the first time in my life I could honestly swear she felt the same.

Her hips grinded against mine, and for a few minutes our tongues collided and our hands roamed in places they'd never been. By now my bra and pants were both on the floor, discarded and an abomination.

"I love you," I mumbled into her mouth at last. I don't even remember in the heat of the moment if I'd ever said it, but after that conversation with Mandy (no she wasn't in my head at the moment) I was sure she would say it back and right now, I wanted to hear it.

"What?" She stopped kissing me for a moment to look me in the eye.

Glancing back and forth between both gorgeous brown eyes, I repeated the proposal. "I love you, Isabelle Johnson. I love you so much."

For a moment, she was stone-faced and staring, but it didn't last long. She burst into the brightest smile I'd ever seen, making me beam with pride that I was the one to place it there. She giggled and burried her face in the crook of my neck, into my short ragged hair.

"I love you, Sarah Wilson," she whispered into my hair.

And at that moment, that was the moment I could think of everything that happened in my life, all of it, every bad memory or stupid mistake or tragic recollection, and not regret a bit of it. I could come to terms with Matt's death, with my parents' struggles and get over my drug habits and cooperate with David's attitude and stoically work through Mandy's feisty comebacks. Because that night, I made love to the girl of my dreams, and it was as perfect as it was ever going to get.
