As noted before...

Tim O'Brien - The Things They Carried
VERY good. Not usually a fan of war-esque things, but that's some damn good writing.

Kurt Vonnegut - Breakfast of Champions
If you had told me my senior year in HS, after reading Slaughterhouse Five that I would be writing my senior college paper on something written by Vonnegut, I would have laughed in your face. Again, damn good writing.

Lemony Snicket - A Series of Unfortunate Events (Books 1-4)
Good, quick reads. Amusing and entertaining. Getting rather sick of Count Olaf. Need new villians.

Stephen King - The Dark Tower Book 1: The Gunslinger
Heavy shit for Stevie, being all epic-bound. Starts off slow, but by the end I was really into it. And I'm hooked, so now I have to know who it all comes out in the end.

Toni Morrison - Jazz
Still better than Beloved. But still not a fan.

Recent Movies:

Fever Pitch = good. Cute, funny and depressing for females. There is no way Jimmy Fallon is that perfect in real life. Grrr.

Sin City = awesome. If you like ultra-violent, blackest-of-black humor, graphic novel-esque films. If you love Elijah Wood... I'm sorry. You're in for a shock. And Clive Owen is a god... as is Robert Rodriguez.

Ice Princess = ok. Disney to the max. Good fun to go and bash with a skater and english major ;)

Robots = ok. Not as good as it could have been. Kind of dizzying. But it has a few really good parts.

Recent Previews:

Kingdom of Heaven = AWESOME. I had an epiphany the other day while seeing it... this movie is a Ridley Scott epic... think Gladiator... Orlando Bloom is going to die.

Charlie & the Chocolate Factory = cool. But that damn song gets stuck in my head. And Johnny Depp looks waaaay freaky.

Star Wars Episode 3 = *raspberries* It's gonna suck. I've just accepted this fact. I'll still go see it at midnight on opening night like the fangirl I am, but I have no positive expectations other than Ewan McGregor kicking Hayden Christensen's ass. Maybe it IS the size of the lightsaber that matters...

WHERE THE HELL IS A BATMAN PREVIEW???

Books:
I'll get to that one next time...

Of Bethany...

Craziness. I had to use that quote for something. It was too good to pass up. Silly Wes.

Someone needs to tell me with definite clarity whether or not Evan Lysacek (sp) is gay. I mean, I assume so, but there's still that fraction of a percentage possibility that he's not, and I need to know. Damn adorable skater with his cute hair and pretty eyes and big ol' jew nose skating to Singin' in the Rain and Michael Buble and beating out little hottie Johnny Wier.

<end bitter skating rant>

I hate getting sick. Especially when I can't deny that I'm getting sick anymore. *growls*

Happy St. Patty's Day!

To celebrate... here's some Irish for ye...

Now there's a little Irish I'd like in me ;)

If you're legal, be sure to have some Green Beer, Guinness and good ol' Irish Whiskey for National Everyone Is Irish Day!

Bride & Predjudice = odd movie with very hot men. Much prefer Bend it like Beckham.

It's still snowing. It's fricking March already, can we not have it snow EVERY DAMN DAY?

I hate having to do homework over break. I have enough shit to do without the reminder that I have to go back to school. Not to mention the fact that I have to work all week and do crap I haven't been able to do for the last eight weeks due to school (things like fixing my car and cleaning, not like having a social life mind you), while other people get to go to exotic locations and spend more money than I make in 2 months on a week of partying like it's 2999.

I figured out I only have seven paychecks coming between now and the time I leave. I am so screwed for money.

And now I'm getting obsessed with Horatio Hornblower. Damn Biography Channel!

Martin Short is f'n creepy.

Desmond Forest Oates is NOT my special friend.

I think I'm officially addicted to the SVU incarnation of the *dun-dun* show.

And American Idol.

Fuck me.

Yay for break!!! No school for a week, plus I get to see a friend not seen in a while.

And I get to clean like a freak... joy. *sarcasm*

but no school!

Snow is the devil. Damn Snow... damn fifteen inches of the shit.

Now that's my idea of an Elvis...

JRM on why he didn't try and gain weight for the role of Elvis: Because I wanted the King to look gooood.

I think it's because his skinny Irish-genes won't let him. Not that I'm complaining...

Yet another reason "Lost" is the best show out there...

Damien Rice "Delicate"

we might kiss 
when we are alone 
when nobody’s watchin’ 
we might take it home 
we might make out 
when nobody's there 
it's not that we're scared 
it's just that it's delicate 

so why d’ya fill my sorrow 
with the words you've borrowed 
from the only place you've known 
why d’ya sing hallelujah 
if it means nothin’ to ya 
why d’ya sing with me at all? 

we might live 
like never before 
when there's nothin’ to give 
how can we ask for more? 
we might make love 
in some sacred place 
that look on your face 
is delicate 

so why d’ya fill my sorrow 
with the words you've borrowed 
from the only place you've known 
why d’ya sing hallelujah 
if it means nothin’ to ya 
why d’ya sing with me at all?

This is the one I'm turning in tomorrow. My re-write, so to speak....

Deadlights (#2)

He remembered people screaming. His girlfriend. Himself. Then the girl in the road. But right now that was all he could remember, that and the pain in his head.

Fuck. This is not going to help my insurance payments. Bloody hell my head hurts. I can just hear the cops now.

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   How on earth did you manage to veer off the road, slide down a hill and further still into a tree when you weren’t intoxicated?

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   No, I’m not drunk, or high. It might have been better if I was. Then my exhausted and sober ass wouldn’t have been hauling inebriated clods home at 3am to bumfuck Middle-of-Nowheresville. I would have been the intoxicated one and some sober sod would have driven my drunken self the mile and a half to my house from the bar. But no, I had to take the DD path and Amy had to have one (or four) too many. Thus I have to wrench her keys away from her and physically haul her ass into my car. Between the bitching out she gave me and the drunken come-ons she was making, I thought I would be the one to get sick. My mistake.

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   So I get her safely home and inside and what thanks do I get? Puke in my back seat, drunk slobber on my cheek and nearly falling asleep from exhaustion, thus wrapping my car around a tree in an unknown wood. I suppose it’s karmic, but how much karma can bite one guy in the ass? Stop it. You shouldn’t think like that. Not after...

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   What the fuck was that sound?

He heard something. What really was making the sound, he didn’t know. It was a ‘snap’ of some sort. Loud enough to pull him out of his wandering thoughts and make him focus on the problem at hand. He was stranded in the woods about 100 yards from the road where his Beamer, not two years off the line, was now sitting dead with a tree infringing on the rights of the hood to stay in one piece. He should have had some forethought, driving alone at 3am when he was really too tired and too stressed to drive. But after his stressful day the office, and the conversation he’d had with his ex, which was more of an emotional drop-kick than a conversation (she hung up on him within seconds, again), he just wanted to go home and sleep. His friends had other ideas however, and dragged him out to the bar so they could get trashed and he could watch. Still, none of these things changed his present problem of having to figure a way out of the woods. It was an unpopulated stretch of highway, the nearest house being more than a mile away, surrounded by clumps of trees and some open spaces. Luckily, where his car veered off the road there was an empty patch. There was no guard rail, just a slight hill leading down from the road to a small patch of scattered trees that led into a deeper wood. He breezed passed the scattered trees, miraculously missing them all, but running smack into the first large, old maple in the woods. He had only blacked out for a second after impact, hitting his head just enough to cause quite a bit of pain and make him a little disoriented. Remembering he should check to see if there were any leaks, he stumbled out of the car and onto the ground.

I hate the bloody woods. Ever since... no before. I’m a city-boy. I’m just used to sounds coming from trains, plains, automobiles, guns and screaming children. These are normal sounds for here, wherever here is. It’s natural for the forest to moan right? Of course you twit. Things make odd sounds everywhere. It’s probably some animal calling for its mate or offspring or some shit like that. Calm down. Look at the hood.  I might be able to drive it out of here. Why’d I have to be such a fucktard and leave my mobile in the pub? I never leave it lying around. OK, there was that one time, but that was the fault of the Ichiban, and that hot chick with the Happy Asian Boobs. God she was hot. Focus you fuckwit, focus.  The hood is bashed, but it might be salvageable, might be. Hey, at least this will piss dad off. Bastard money obsessed prick. Sorry dad looks like your youngest son will be driving a POS now.

His family dynamic wasn’t especially great, but not horrible either. His mom was supportive, but a little flighty and somewhat of a pushover. His brother was a first-class grade-A prick who mooched off his parents, though they didn’t mind since he married the first girl he banged and still came home every chance he could to suck up. His dad was addicted to work, more for the opportunity to accumulate wealth and possessions than for the love of work itself. Mike resented that. He resented himself for beginning down that path. At his father’s request he interned at an ad firm his freshman year, and after realizing he hated it and himself he turned to journalism the next semester. His father was furious, telling him there was no future in writing, but Mike didn’t care. He loved it and through working his ass off he had made enough since graduating to live as comfortably as his parents did, just on a smaller scale. His only real status symbols were the multiple video game systems he had, which he rationalized were needed for work (reviewing and testing new games for several well-known gaming magazines and companies), and the car. The car his parents gave him a year after graduation because his dad concluded that if Mike was going to make his living writing, he ought to at least look like a well-to-do writer so he could get higher paying writing jobs. Deep down his dad knew it didn’t work that way, but he didn’t know how else to praise his son for making over fifty grand his first year out of school. It took a while, but Mike had pulled himself up after the accident, and now, five years later he had a solid, well paying job (three technically) and all the effects his father wanted him to show for it. Not that any of it mattered to Mike. He was single and unhappy with everything in life, except his job. He only wanted to have his old girlfriend back and for things to be how they were before the accident. He was thinking of this when he heard another sound in the distance.

That was a groan. That wasn’t a deer. A bear maybe? Great, a bear. That’d be the perfect end to this night. Mauled to death by a lonely bear in search of food or getting laid, and what does he find? My skinny ass cowering in fear, not exactly food and definitely not his idea of a hot date, at least I hope not. Alright, pull yourself together man. You’re just letting things from your past haunt you because it’s late and this reminds you of the stretch of road you were on when you hit the girl.

Another snap, somewhere in the woods in front of him.

Now it’s time to get out of here. Whether it’s a bear or deer or ghost or strange freak making noises, that was one noise too many. Just start the car and get the hell out of here. Start the car.

It won’t start.

He was right, it didn’t. There was only a churning noise and another sound from the engine that resembled a dying llama.

DAMNIT!

He sat for a moment, unsure of what to do next. He had to get out of the car, eventually. But his head began to hurt again and he became dizzy. His mind drifted back to the night of theaccident. It had been late, around 1am. He and his girlfriend, Bethany, were fighting over his coming home very weekend to see her. She loved him, she explained, she wanted to see him, but whenever he came home neither one of them accomplished anything. They were both behind in school and their other friends were upset that they couldn’t see them individually on the weekends. She also felt guilty because he was spending his money to come see her every weekend because she was car-less, and some weekends she was sick or working most of the time or just not up for human interaction. She explained how she thought it might be better if he only came up once a month, with maybe the occasional surprise visit. Mike was incensed. He had experienced a really terrible week and was looking forward to spending some time with his girl and releasing some of the tension he had built up over things at school. He liked escaping on the weekends; more than that he hated being separated from her. He wasn’t jealous, afraid of losing her, or even exceptionally clingy, he just felt in his heart that this was the girl for him and he wanted to be around her, to experience as much life with her, as possible. She was more of a free spirit. She could go a few weeks without seeing her best friends when she felt it necessary for self-development or catching up on homework. Other times she would be the social butterfly, jumping from one activity to another until she burned out. Then the cycle would repeat. And she loved Mike, deeply, but they were still very young, and she knew this, and as much as she cared for him, she wasn’t thinking about whether or not he was “the one.” This brought up a sore spot for Mike, and as he yelled at her, while crying and attempting to drive that night, their lives were altered in a way they never expected. His mind was snapped back into the present by another unsuspected and unknown sound.

Fuck. Me. Look, you’re safe in the car. Just stay in the car. Slump down on the seat and you’ll be all right. Whatever it is, it’ll think you’re dead, if it even sees you, and leave you alone.

He began to slide down; then the moaning came again. This moan was louder, straining to reach something. What that something was he didn’t know, and wasn’t keen to find out.

Fuck this shit. Get out of the car and run. Run your skinny ass up the hill and down the road. Someone’s bound to come along. You did that one night. Hopefully you won’t end up as street pizza like she did...Screw that.  Run. Now.

He opened the door and stumbled out into the night. He tried to run, but his muscles wouldn’t let him do it quite right.  He looked fairly drunk as he scrambled to get away from the car and suddenly he tripped and smashed his face into the ground.

That. Fucking. Hurt.

That was the last thought he had before drifting into oblivion. His mind wafted back to that night, five years ago. It was a beautiful, clear night; cool and calm, the perfect night for driving. But inside the car, the fervor of the couple’s argument was ripe for peril. As Mike strained through his tears to explain why he wanted to see Bethany every weekend, why he felt they were meant to be, a girl ran up from off the road. She came up the side of the hill, just beyond the barrier. What she was doing down there no one knew. There was no car down there, no one in the area knew who she was, and no evidence that anyone else was around her. When they examined her body they found no signs she had been raped or beaten, apart from the beating the car gave her. She screamed as she ran into the grill and then he ran over her. He had slammed on the breaks as soon as he saw her, but didn’t fully stop until he had gone over her body.

They had done everything right: called 911 and report exactly what happened, appeared in court when the girl’s parents tried to sue Mike for 2^nd degree (acquitted, because there was nothing to prove he intended to hit her or could have really done anything to prevent what happened, and Bethany testified on his behalf, the last time she spoke about him, or to him). Mike went through counseling and drank himself stupid for a year. But eventually he woke up to find the world was still turning and decided to try and get back on. Still in dreams, he was haunted by her face, and that night. She was from a town seventy miles away from where she was hit. Disappeared from her school dorm three days before; it was assumed she was running from something, but no one knew who or what. She was twenty, only a year older than he was at the time. Blonde, pretty, not the brightest light bulb her parents has said, but sweet. Her name was Shannon. Mike wanted to hate her. He wanted to love her. He wanted to feel anything about her besides resentment for her death fucking up his life, and guilt over hitting her and feeling resentment about it. He had wished a thousand times to relive that night, to change any detail that would have resulted in his not hitting the girl and not having Bethany break up with him because she couldn’t stand the constant reminder of the accident. Still, he went through his days, doing his job and trying to be social, but he had become emotionally numb after the experience. He wanted to feel again, feel love and hope and joy, but as he came to on the dirty ground, all he felt was fear. It took a second for him to gather his bearings, but then remembered them. The sounds had not stopped in his unconscious episode. Something out there was moving, and in his direction. The snaps and cracks were steps of some sort, he thought. The moan was something unearthly.

Get up you prick. Get yourself up. Don’t just lay here like a pussy. Pussies die, remember. They cower in fear and die.

He was slowly inching towards the road. The hill leading up to it was now maybe fifty feet away. He could see the tire marks that led the car down the hill. He made it up to the road, practically crawling as he reached the cool asphalt. Mike stood, swaying from dizziness. Blinking to adjust, he finally made the choice to turn back and look at the woods.

What do you expect to see? You were practically asleep when you veered off. Who are you kidding? You were definitely asleep, moron. You probably have a concussion from bashing your head so many times. Do the math; you’ve been half asleep this whole time. Your hearing has been screwing with you because your brain is all shaken-not-stirred inside. There’s nothing there.

But there was. He saw her. Whether she simply appeared or walked out from behind a tree, he never had time to reason out. She was laughing; a high-pitched, malicious, cacophonous laugh. And with his peripheral vision he saw headlights headed straight at him.

Why the hell not... Anything to keep from writing a paper:

QUESTIONS
1. Current Height: 5'2"
2. Current Weight: 160
3. Current BMI: high... not obese, but definetly in the overweight area
4. Lowest weight at current height: 100
5. Highest weight at current height: 165
6. Pants size: 12-14 (damn AE)
7. Top size: L-XL (damn boobs)
8. Have you ever been diagnosed with an eating disorder?  No
9. How often do you weigh yourself?  as little as possible
10. Have you cried after weighing yourself/trying on clothes?  only once in a great while
11. If you could change any body part(s), what would you choose? my stomach, I didn't really used to have one
12. What body type do you have? curvy... VERY curvy
13. How happy would you say you are with your body as it is right at this moment?  not happy at all. too much chub
14. Have you been made fun of because of your weight? yeah, oddly enough when I was young ans short and REALLY skinny I was made fun of, and then once I hit puberty and got boobs, but was still skinny I was made fun of, and in HS when I was still relatively skinny I was made fun of, and now I'm actually chubby and I think I'm the only one who is utterly put off by it.
15. Did it contribute to how you feel about yourself now? god yes. I was the tiniest little thing for so long, then I was tiny with boobs and gradually become not so tiny with boobs and no I'm chubby with boobs and I hate it.
16. Does it take you a long time to find something that looks halfway decent on you?  sometimes. my one saving grace is that I have an hourglass figure so I can find things that adapt to my chub.
17. If you could snap your fingers and make yourself any weight, what number would you choose?  120-130lbs (I'm realistic, these boobs aren't going anywhere)
18. What celebrity, in your opinion, has the perfect body?  Lots. Rachel Weisz, Kate Winslet, Eliza Dushku, Kirsten Dunst, Nicole Kidman, Mandy Moore... women with boobs and curves who don't care how they are viewed by the public/media, even if they were concerned with it before.
19. Other than physical appearance, how do you feel about yourself? shitty, for many many reasons
  20. Do you think you'd be happier about yourself if you were comfortable with your weight? It sure as hell couldn't hurt. I think I'd be more comfortable with being active and maybe more social since I wouldn't be so worried about how chubby I've become.

This is the story I actually turned in...

The last thing I remember is her face, looking at me with fear and confusion.

That’s not true really. The last thing I remember is a scream, and pain. This time it was my pain.

Fuck. This is not going to help my insurance payments. Bloody hell my head hurts. I can just hear the cops now.

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   How on earth did you manage to veer off the road, slide down a hill and further still into a tree when you weren’t intoxicated?

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   No, I’m not drunk, or high. It might have been better if I was. Then my exhausted and sober ass wouldn’t have been hauling inebriated clods home at 3am to bumfuck Middle-of-Nowheresville. I would have been the intoxicated one and some sober sod would have driven my drunken self the mile and a half to my house from the bar. But no, I had to take the DD path and Beth had to have one (or four) too many. Thus I have to wrench her keys away from her and physically haul her ass into my car. Between the bitching out she gave me and the drunken come-ons she was making, I thought I would be the one to get sick. My mistake.

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   So I get her safely home and inside and what kind of thanks do I get? Puke in my back seat, drunk slobber on my cheek and nearly falling asleep from exhaustion, thus wrapping my car around a tree in an unknown wood. I suppose it’s karmic, but how much karma can bite one guy in the ass? Stop it. You shouldn’t think like that. Not after...

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   What the fuck was that sound?

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   Dumbass. Stop panicking. You’re in the woods; things make noises. Things snap, crackle, pop, snarl, growl, hoot and howl. Just how far in the woods are you anyway? That’s not important. What’s important is that you make sure you can walk and get your ass out of this car to check damage level.

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   It took me a minute to pry the door open. Something seemed to be holding me inside. I should have taken that hint. Outside of the car I saw that the driver’s side door was busted. Up at the front, one of the hinges showed through the smashed metal, twisted slightly askew.

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   That would be why you couldn’t open the door. Great. Item number one to drive up insurance costs. Item number two would be... shit. I hate the bloody woods. Ever since... no before. I’m a city-boy. That’s it. You’re just used to sounds coming from trains, plains, automobiles, guns and screaming children. These are normal sounds for here, wherever here is. It’s natural for the forest to moan right? Of course you twit. Things make odd sounds everywhere. It’s probably some animal calling for its mate or offspring or some shit like that. Calm down. Look at the hood.

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   So maybe looking at the hood wasn’t such a great idea. The car wasn’t exactly wrapped around the tree so much as impaled by it.

Still, I might be able to drive it out of here. Why’d I have to be such a fucktard and leave my mobile in the pub? I never leave that thing lying around. OK, there was that one time, but that was the fault of the Ichiban, and that hot chick with the Happy Asian Boobs. God she was hot. Focus you fuckwit, focus.  The hood is pretty bashed, but it might be salvageable. Hey, at least this will piss dad off. Bastard money obsessed prick. Sorry dad looks like your youngest son will be driving a POS now.

It wasn’t steaming or leaking anything, not that I could tell anyway. I walked back to grab a flashlight from the trunk to be sure nothing’s leaking.

The back of the car isn’t too bad. It might not even need any work at all.

How fast was I going? It couldn’t have been that fast. I remember my foot easing off the gas just before I fell asleep. Forty-five maybe? Minus a few miles for coasting. Shit it’s dark. Flashlight good. Find flashlight, genius. Walking isn’t too bad. I’m kind of dizzy, but don’t think I have a concussion. God bless air bags and seat belts. Not that they do any good for the soul, or the poor sap(ling) on the other end. I still don’t understand why she was coming up that hill, or why at that particular moment...

That was my foot causing a snap. It had to have been... unless I’m being stalked by a deer. Yeah, a deer, that’s it. They’re nocturnal; it’s night, and you can’t be that far from civilization. It has to be a deer. Fucking deer.

Shining the light both under and around the ground by the engine I couldn’t see anything unusual. No leaks, no drips.

The night seems to be improving. Now let’s see if my newly turned to piece of shit car can get me out of here. Otherwise I might have to walk back up to the highway. Let’s not do that though. This night has been coincidental enough. Same stretch of road. Damnit, don’t you think about that now. It was five years ago. You couldn’t have known she was coming. You were upset with life and Bethany (God I miss her) and were trying to do the right thing by pulling over. You didn’t even see her until it was too late. Stop fucking beating yourself up about it, just get in the car and...

That was a groan. That wasn’t a deer. A bear maybe? Great, a bear. That’d be the perfect end to this night. Mauled to death by a lonely bear in search of food or getting laid, and what does he find? My skinny ass cowering in fear, not exactly food and definitely not his idea of a hot date, at least I hope not. Alright, pull yourself together man. You’re just letting things from your past haunt you because it’s late and you just happen to be along the same stretch of road you were when you hit the girl. Or did she hit you? Sometimes in dreams she seems to be running at the car like she wanted to be hit. But those are dreams Einstein, and you know dreams aren’t real. You’ve known this since you were six and you’re twenty-four now for fuck’s sake.

Another snap. Now it’s time to get out of here. Whether it’s a bear or deer or ghost or strange freak making noises, that was one noise too many. Just start the car and get the hell out of here. Start the car.

It won’t start.

It did. I threw it into reverse and slam on the gas. Nothing, only a churning noise and my tires squealing.

Come on. Calm down and focus. Start over.

I turned the car off and turned it over again. It started and I slowly, calmly shifted into reverse. My hand shaking as I move it to the wheel.

It’s not hard; just ease your foot onto the gas.

The car lurched backward about twenty feet. I felt exuberant... for about ten seconds. Then the car died. And whatever the thing, bear, deer or whatever in the woods was, it made a crack. A loud one, too loud for me to feel secure.

You’re safe in the car. Just stay in the car. Slump down on the seat and you’ll be all right. It’ll think you’re dead, if it even sees you, and leave you alone.

I started to slump down, then the moaning came again. This one was louder, straining to reach something. What that something was I didn’t know, and I sure as fuck wasn’t keen to find out.

Fuck this shit. Get out of the car and run. Run your skinny ass up the hill and down the road. Someone’s bound to come along. You did that one night. Hopefully you won’t end up as street pizza like she did...

The wind picked up, and I didn’t notice for a second, being lost in my own thought.

Was there wind to begin with?

There was more snapping and crackling, softer but moving. Definitely moving. Moving towards me.

Run. Now.

I ran. I ran like no skinny little white boy has run before. At least I thought I did. My legs started but I couldn’t move for another few seconds. Still, it felt like I had run. Another snap... and a low, painful moan. I started to run again. I must have tripped over a root, because almost immediately I smashed my face into the ground.

That. Fucking. Hurt.

That’s the last thought I had before drifting into oblivion. I saw myself again on that night, five years ago. It was a beautiful, clear night; cool and calm, the perfect night for driving, unless of course you were me. Driving home at 3am, arguing with my girl about stupid shit. Now I don’t even remember what we fought about. Upset and tired, I thought I was doing the right thing. I pulled my car over to the side of the road by the barrier. As I was slowing down, she ran in front of me. I swear to this day she came out of nowhere, but that’s not what the report said. She came up the side of the hill, just beyond the barrier. What she was doing down there no one knew, or will ever know. There wasn’t a car down there, no houses within a mile (not to mention no one in the area knew who she was), no evidence that anyone else was around her. When they examined her body they found no signs she had been raped or beaten, apart from the beating my car gave her. She was alone in the woods in the middle of the night for no known reason. She ran right into my car. Not in front of it, into it. I realize now that wasn’t something I added in dreams. She screamed as she ran into my grill and then I ran over her. I had already hit the breaks, but I didn’t fully stop until I had gone over her body.

I did everything I thought I was supposed to: call 911, give the full story, appear in court when her parents wanted to sue me for 2^nd degree (acquitted, there was no proof I meant to hit her, and no proof I could have known she was there), go through counseling and drink myself stupid for the next three years. Still in dreams, and now lying unconscious in the woods, I could still see her face. She was young; they said she was twenty, only a year older than I was at the time. Blonde, pretty from the pictures her folks showed me, not the brightest light bulb but sweet, or so they said. Her name was Shannon. I wanted to hate her. I wanted to love her. I wanted to feel anything about her besides resentment for her death fucking up my life, and guilt over hitting her and feeling resentment about it. But lying on the cold ground at 4am on a Saturday night, reeling from crashing my car on the same strip of road, all I felt was fear.

I came to and looked around. I must have only been out for a minute or two, but it felt like hours. It took a second to get my bearings, but then I remembered them. The sounds had not stopped in my unconscious episode. Something out there was definitely moving, and in my direction. The snaps and cracks were steps of some sort. The moan was something unearthly, I was damn sure of that.

Get up you prick. Get yourself up. Don’t just lay here like a pussy. Pussies die, remember. They cower in fear and die.

I picked myself up despite the intense pain throbbing in my head. If I didn’t have a concussion before, there was a good possibility I had one now. But I couldn’t let that stop me. I lurched forward, trying to take a step and not fall. I succeeded. When my foot hit the ground, a twig snapped. A second later a twig snapped behind me.

This is not happening. Whatever it is, it is not happening. Do not look back.

Maybe you should look back, maybe it’s just a lonely dog or wolf.

Still doesn’t mean it won’t try and kill you. But if it is a dog, you can put your mind at rest. Dogs like you, it wouldn’t hurt you. And if it turns out to be a bear, or even a wildcat, then at least you’d know before you die that you weren’t being chased by a ghost.

As I thought this out I was slowly inching towards the road. The hill leading up to it was now maybe fifty feet away. I could see my tire marks that led the car down the hill and were now leading me up it.

Why is there no sound? First there were all those sodding noises, fuck knows what they were. Now everything is dead silent. Why did you have to think “dead” you ‘tard? Just keep walking.

One more step and there was a crack behind me. Right behind me.

You have two choices, turn around or run.

Once again, I chose to run. I scampered up the hill, my head pounding with pain. This time as I ran I didn’t hear moaning, I heard screaming. I didn’t dare look back. Why the fuck would I? Ghost or person or wolf or bear, what good would it do me? I made it up to the road, practically crawling as I reached the cool asphalt. I stood, swaying from dizziness. Blinking to adjust, I finally turned back to look at the woods.

What do you expect to see? You were practically asleep when you veered off. Who are you kidding? You were definitely asleep, moron. You probably have a concussion from bashing your head so many times. Do the math; you’ve been half asleep this whole time. Your hearing has been screwing with you because your brain is all shaken-not-stirred inside. There’s nothing there.

But there was. I saw her. Whether she simply appeared or walked out from behind a tree, I didn’t have time to reason out. She was laughing; a high-pitched, malicious, cacophonous laugh. And with my peripheral vision I saw headlights headed straight for me.

... and this is who I based my main character off of... Shhhh, don't tell.

I love fantasy. I love horror. I love music. Whatever doesn’t really happen in life is what I’m interested in... as a way of commenting on it, on what does happen in life because ultimately the only thing I’m really interested in is people. –Joss Whedon

[Percy and Queen Elizabeth are playing frisbee]
Lord Percy: [Catches the frisbee] How’s that!
Queen Elizabeth: Percy, who's Queen?
Lord Percy: [Throws it away] Butterfingers.

Lord Melchett: Gray, I suspect, your Majesty.
Queen Elizabeth: I think you'll find they were orange, Lord Melchett.
Lord Melchett: Gray is more usual, Ma'am.
Queen Elizabeth: Who's Queen?
Lord Melchett: As you say, Majesty. There were these magnificent orange elephants...

Are you in love with her?

What kind of question is that?

It’s a fairly straightforward one, Charlie.

Why?

Because you act like you are.

How do I…?

The look you get in your eyes when you talk about her, the way you smile when you think about her or look at her, your overwhelming desire to protect her.

There was more, but she didn’t want to go into it then. She knew everything he did about the girl. She knew he was borderline obsessed with her, but not in a creepy-stalker way. She knew he thought about her when no one else did. She knew how he was with girls; he was an insatiable flirt but never really wanted to get close, and this one was different. He wanted to get close to her. He really wanted to know her, not just the inside of her sheets.

I’m not in love with her… but I do want to protect her. She’s a good bird, she has a good heart and I don’t want her to get hurt.

That’s something you usually don’t concern yourself with.

His head dropped. She wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t make the words sting any less. She usually wasn’t this upfront unless she was really upset about something. And usually she only got this upset when she knew he was screwing up his life and/or their friendship. He wanted to tell her the truth, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Well, if you haven’t noticed, things have been somewhat different lately.

It came out more harshly than he intended. He felt guilty for making her apologize like he knew she would.

You’re right. I’m sorry.

You don’t have to apologize, Lil.

Suddenly the moment was awkward. He typically broke the silence, usually with an off-colour remark, but she could tell he was nervous about something, which tended to make him twitchy and afraid to speak. She didn’t really want to keep going with this conversation, but she needed to know. Still, she wasn’t about to make him feel defensive.

I’ll agree, she seems like a good girl, CK.

But?

Nothing…

It wasn’t nothing. It was another thing not to bring up then. She did seem like a nice person, but then so did others around them and the lesson quickly learned was that people (and things) weren’t usually what they seemed. Usually they were much worse. Still, this one seemed to be genuine and she didn’t want to argue against him any more than she already was.

You’re my friend Lil, a true friend. You were before all this happened. And you have been by my side since the moment things got shaky… and I think I know what you’re really getting at here.

He hoped he didn’t, actually. This was a conversation he hadn’t rehearsed having enough and he was terrified for it to continue. But he knew she would keep pressing him until he told the truth. She was exceptional at drawing the truth out of him, especially when he needed to tell it but was too afraid.

Do you want to protect me, Charlie?

More than anyone in this world. I don’t want anyone to place a hand on you unless it’s a loving one. Unless it’s…

What?

Nevermind.

This was uncommon. It was more than uncommon to her, it was downright freaky. He never lost the ability to talk around her. She was his best friend, truly. Not just his best female friend, his true and absolute there through thick and thin best friend. He could tell her anything and everything and she’d accept it. Maybe not at first, but she would eventually. And if she didn’t it was usually because he was doing something destructive and she’d help him through and out of it. But now he choked. He couldn’t tell her this. How would she accept this? How would she help him through it?

I do want to protect you. You just haven’t really needed it.

This was bullshit and she knew it. Everyone was in peril here. Everyone had at least one scrape with death since “arriving” and she was no exception. Granted, she knew how to take care of herself, better than he did really, but that wasn’t the issue here. The issue was him not talking, not giving his real reason behind this conversation. She could feel his nervousness, and didn’t want him to chicken out of whatever he was going to say, but she was also getting impatient with him.

So that’s why she’s so appealing? Because she’s more helpless than I am? Because she’s more outwardly fragile?

She hit “outwardly” with more emotion than she meant to. She bit her tongue in frustration, but he didn’t notice her slip.

Well she is…

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   He stumbled.

She has been through a lot in the last couple weeks.

We’ve all been through a lot Charlie, especially yourself. And I’ve taken care of you, and of other people. And all you’ve thought to take care of is her.

So this is about attention?

No, Charlie. It’s about you not being able to accept your own feelings. About you always thinking of what makes you happy instead of what may be the best for others, or even really the best for you. You care about her, and you want to protect her and that’s fine. Someone should, more than one someone even. But you’ve become obsessed about it, and you’ve stopped talking. You always used to talk, to everyone, and if not everyone, you’d talk to me. You’re hiding something from yourself, and other people won’t see it because they don’t know you, but I do. Why won’t you tell me?

He didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t normally the one doing the majority of the talking. He always had a retort or a subject change or something to drive the conversation the way he wanted. But she wasn’t letting go this time. He knew when she was serious. Outside she’d be perfectly calm and steady, but inside she was crying; she was in pain. He hated seeing her in pain. He wanted to protect the other girl, wanted to be her friend, but he didn’t want to see Lily hurt, not ever, especially not by himself.

I don’t want it to change things between us.

Charlie, you’ve done a lot already to change things between us and I’m still your friend. What could you possibly say to me that would make this confession different?

Because, Lil, every confession I’ve made to you has been about me, about my life, my issues, my demons.

What’s this one about?

You.

Well, everything can’t be about you all the time, love. Spill.

You sure?

Yes.

I take no responsibility for the consequences of what I’m about to…

Say it.

I love you Lily.

She knew this wasn’t an “I love you” like my best friend or closest family member or most awesome confidant. This was an “I love you” like a hero loves a heroine. In a way he never really loved a girl before, at least not any girl since she met him. And if he ever did, he didn’t talk about it. Hundreds of questions filled her head. Does he really know what it means to be in love? Does he really think of me like that? How long has he felt this way? Why didn’t he ever say anything before? What really did change between them that he felt like he could say it now? But all that came out was:

Me?

Yes.

Not…?

No.

And so what exactly does this change between us, CK?

You tell me.

I’ll have to think about that…

His head sunk. She hadn’t even finished the sentence and he looked as if his puppy was just shot, or worse yet, his heart.

But you’re not in any danger of losing me, Charlie. I may actually look to you to protect me now though.

He smiled at her, lovingly. For the first time in quite a while he felt like he could truly show her everything he felt. He didn’t have to buck up to improve the circumstances. He didn’t have to hide his feelings from her because it was a bad time. He could just be honest.

I already am.

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   Smiles were exchanged, and a brief silence.

Aren’t you going to kiss me?

He smiled teasingly at her. He wasn’t about to ruin the moment with a nervous peck. He wanted her to savor this moment. They had so few happy times now; he wanted to give her at least two very special ones.

Not yet.

Why not?

When the time is right. When you least expect it. It’ll be perfect, Lil. I promise.

He promised others a lot. Those promises were empty. But his promises to her were the full weight of his soul. He’d hold to them with every fiber of his being. She knew this, and so did he. So she did the only thing she could think to do. She kissed him on the cheek, sweetly.

Goodnight, Charlie. Sweet dreams.

For once they will be.

It was dark, at least to begin with. Suddenly the room was flooded with light. The three of us switched on any light we could in the room. Of course we had to have run into a corner suite with windows surrounding two sides of the small first bedroom area. We frantically scanned the sky for sight of our enemy. He, It, wasn’t there. We began a battle plan, or at least the best battle plan three terrified girls could conceive. We didn’t get far before It came. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw It first. Death, or the grim reaper, or a phantom or something of that nature. We weren’t exactly sure. We didn’t exactly care. It was in a black cloak, shrouded and thin. It didn’t appear to have a face until you looked directly at It. Its eyes reflected a silverfish tint and there was a hint of structure to the face, bones almost protruding from the ghastly grey skin. This was all you could make out before you had to turn away. One second too long spent examining the face and Its eyes would have you. You would be trapped in Its gaze and it would take you. It had been following us for three nights now, why we had no idea. But It was a persistent sonofabitch. Once It had you targeted, you couldn’t run. Well you could, but It would come after you and wouldn’t let up until It had what It came for.

 We knew by now It was there for all of us. What It wanted with a handful of young women, single and looking for their place in the world, who just happened to stumble on a secret no one was supposed to find while backpacking cross country, we did not know. We actually knew very little. We knew what we came upon was a weapon of some sort, a creature or machine controlled by men with money, ambition and a desire to see the world fall. We knew that that night as we slept in a Motel 6 It came for us. Before we knew what had happened Cara was gone. There were three of us still left, trying to outrun It at first, but after three days of running, we were ready to fight. We didn’t know how to fight It. We barely knew anything about It except that It hated the light. Like some cheesy ghost in a movie, incredibly cliché, but It was terrified of light. Still, that didn’t stop It from searching for any corner or sliver of darkness where It might grab you or show Its face long enough to trap you.

It was after Megan now, and Laura and I were trying to protect her. It shattered the windows and hovered outside, waiting for us to lose our composure for just a second. I did lose mine, but in that second I made a decision. It lurched for me as I reached into my duffle. I pulled out a flashlight and turned to It. It looked at me, through me, into me. For a second I lost myself. I could hear moans of pain and suffering and a sadness which I could not even begin to describe. Laura screamed and I pulled out of it. Switching the flashlight on, I aimed it directly in the thing’s face. It shrieked, loudly, but in a lower tone than I expected. I succeeded in getting It to back off, for about two seconds. In the end I think all I did was succeed in pissing It off. It came after me full force, grasping for me in any shadow It could find. The wind picked up and the lights of the room flickered. I wasn’t giving up though. I’d lower the light until it was right in front of me, then I’d flash Its deadlights and It would back off for a few seconds.

 Once It got too close and I got lost in Its eyes again. I wasn’t afraid then. On the contrary I felt calm, but deeply gloomy, like I would never see the sun again, never know love, never know warmth for the rest of eternity. Then I was struck with a revelation. The girls screamed in earnest, more trying to get Its attention than rescue me. Still, it worked both ways. The being went for them and I snapped out of my trance. In the haze I almost forgot my revelation, until they shown a light in Its face and It moaned again. When It sprang for them, I dove for It. I caught part of the ragged black cloth covering its frame along with a skinny foot. It reeled on me and as it did I used my free arm to wrap myself around Its waist. It struggled, but by now the girls had caught on to my plan and they tackled It as well. Once again the being moaned. This moan was different though. It was pained, but also full of sorrow and strangely absent of rage. I reached up with the hand that had been holding the foot and pulled the hood off. It was a He.

    & nbsp;   &n bsp; And he was stunning.

He was pale, but not the ghastly grey colour he appeared to be under the cloak. His face was thin but not hollow; the seemingly protruding bones were just the marks of a thin face with strong bone structure, high, defined cheekbones, an aquiline nose and a slightly pointed chin. His lips were fairly thin, but they were stuck in a permanent pout, making them appear quite full. His eyes were slightly sunken as if he hadn’t eaten or slept for days, but not silver. They were strikingly beautiful, a true shade of sea-green, and full of fear and sadness. In our amazement he managed to pull back from us and scootch himself back against a bed. He pulled his thin legs up to his chest and just sat there staring at us in wonder, sadness and fear. I reached out a hand to touch one of his, wrapped around his calves. The girls switched off their flashlights and turned them around to use as weapons of a different sort if needed.

I touched his hand, and he flinched but did not try to strike me or run. His hand was chillingly cold. He let me remove it from his leg to examine it. The fingers were long and slender, as was the whole hand. It was muscular but looked like it had been poorly used. His hand looked tired and sad, just as the rest of him did. As I looked back at his face, it was glum and bewildered, but also apologetic, like a child who did something wrong and so tried to run away from home only to be found in a neighbor’s tree fort, cold, lost, hungry and sad. He wanted to be forgiven for what he did, and I wanted to forgive him. But my impulse to punish was quicker and stronger. I dropped the hand I held in my and punched him in the face twice, as hard as I could. More accurately, I punched him in the jaw. His eyes welled with tears, but he did not cry out. Nor did his eyes give any indication that he was angry or about to fight back. He rolled his jaw around and spit out a tooth into his hand, along with some blood. I reached up for a Kleenex off the nightstand. I handed it to him and he wiped his mouth where more blood had gathered, then he wiped his hand and just stared at his tooth.

“I’ll go get some ice” Laura said. It was the first word spoken in over half and hour.

“I’ll, um… help” Megan added nervously. “Maybe the front desk has an ice pack. And we should probably ask to be moved to another room, since our windows are kind of broken…” They stood up and went to leave the room.

“Min, will you be alright?” Laura looked at the man, I guess I’ll call him that, for he appeared to be in his late 20s, and back at me. Keeping my gaze on him and not noticing any change in his emotion, I nodded.

“You guys go ahead. I’ll be alright. See if you can find something to eat too.”

With that they left me alone in a suite with shattered glass scattered across the floor, sitting with the man who had taken my friend two nights ago. For a moment I just stared at him, and he stared back at me. Those eyes that so recently had threatened to trap me in a world of unending torment were representative of his world. He had been trapped, by something or someone, in that world of darkness, pain and fear completely alone. Deep inside he wanted to be set free but could not speak with his own voice or his own thoughts. Yet somehow he had gotten through to me. Somehow I saw through the spell, or whatever it was he was under, that was used to ensnare others and saw into him. He showed me his miserable world, and I gave him a way out. Now we sat, locked in each others eyes, and he silently thanked me, while still apologizing for everything he’d done to us.

I reached my hand towards his face, and he flinched again, but I didn’t hit him this time. I placed my fingers lightly on his temple and rested my hand on his cheek. His face had warmed in the light, which didn’t make sense, since the wind was so strong outside. Yet I couldn’t remember feeling the wind in the last few minutes. I looked toward the windows and saw that they were perfect, not a single one was broken, or even cracked. I turned back and looked at him with surprise. He opened his mouth as if to speak and his eyelids fluttered as if he would pass out. “It’s alright. You can explain it later. You need to rest for now, and eat something.” His eyes opened again and he nodded at me thankfully. He leaned his head ever so slightly into my hand, as if to say “Thank you.” I smiled gently at him and for a second I saw the pain in his eyes fade.

“What’s your name?”

“Jonathan,” he whispered.

“Jonathan, I’m Mina. My friends are Megan and Laura. We’re going to take care of you.”

“I’m not sure I’m the one who needs taking care of… or if I deserve it.” His eyes filled with sorrow again. “Besides, you don’t know what’s happening, or why.”

“Hey” I said, “Let’s not worry about that right now. You need rest and food and some ice. We’ll take care of the immediate needs and then talk about what’s been going on.” I didn’t know why I was being so kind to him, why I felt the need to be. After all he’d been hunting my friends and I as a phantom death for days, relentlessly, and he’d caught one of us. Cara was gone, and whether she was dead or not, we had no idea. I wanted to ask him so many things, but I knew he was in no condition to explain anything right now.

I grabbed a bottle of water from my pack and offered it to him. He sipped slowly on it, his eyes still fixed on me. It was starting to creep me out. Not him looking at me, but the idea that I wanted him to look at me, that I found him attractive and appealing in a strange kind of way. I looked at his jaw where I had punched it to keep myself from looking in his eyes. He noticed the change in my gaze and stopped drinking.

“I’m sorry for that. It looks really painful, and it’s starting to swell.”

“Don’t be sorry. I deserved it, and a lot more… How did you hear me?”

I was puzzled, could have been from the exhaustion, or from the fact that I was talking to a man who quite recently I believed to be a ghost or phantom stalking me, and now he was sitting in front of me asking me the questions. “What do you mean?”

“You heard me… behind the eyes, I felt you there with me, you pulled me out. How did you hear me?”

“I… I don’t know. I felt lost in there, trapped, but not alone… and suddenly I just knew that you were the one trapped in there, that you couldn’t control what you were doing, that you were lost in some kind of tragic abyss and wanted out. And for some reason I wanted to get you out. I thought it would be to kill you, to kill the monster that took my friend and hunted the rest of us. I had no idea what was under that shroud… How old are you?”

“Twenty eight…I think… no, I know. It’s just that I’ve been trapped there for six months; it seemed like so much longer. I thought I’d be there for eternity. I thought I would just rot in there surrounded by fear and pain and sadness…” His eyes welled with tears again. I thought he was going to burst into tears, but he didn’t. He just let one tear leak out of his left eye as he took another sip of water.

“Jonathan, I want to know everything. How you got to be, or be inside, this thing. Who or what did this to you and why. Why you were sent after us, but right now you need rest. Let me help you up onto the bed.”

“You’re too kind to me… after what I’ve done to you and your friends. After what I’ve done to so many people, you should have…”

“Shush. I told you we’ll worry about that later. Come on, get up.” I helped him shift up onto the bed and sit down. I got around the other side and helped him pull himself back to the headboard so he could lean against it. Even though he was thin, he was definitely stronger than I was, or at least he would be at full strength. Right now though he wasn’t fighting me and he was really weak.

“Thank you.” He finally said it out loud.

“You’re welcome.” I replied. I moved my hand to put a pillow behind his back and he grabbed my hand. This time I was the one who flinched, more from surprise than fear, though I can’t say I wasn’t afraid at all. He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed it, softly, as he gazed thankfully at me. He was about to say something else when the girls came in the room, followed by a concierge.

“The windows just blew out from the wind, scared us half to death!” Laura was saying as they entered. Megan followed with an ice pack under her arm and a tray with four burgers and a heaping plate of fries. The concierge carried four bottles of water and assorted juices and pop. He looked confused, naturally, when he saw that the windows were in tact. If the concierge looked confused, the girls look completely dumbfounded to see the windows. Megan nearly dropped the tray but Laura’s quick reflexes helped save it.

“Girls, I told you it was just a dream. I’m sorry, uh… Brian,” that’s what the nametag said, “I couldn’t stop them, and Jonny here smashed into the wall in the dark trying to get them to calm down. I didn’t want to leave him here in case he had a concussion, so the girls ran out without me.” Brian nodded and started to back out of the room.

“Well then, uh, if that’s all you need, I’ll let you be. It’s late. Check out is at eleven.”

“Thanks Brian, we appreciate the help.”

“Uh, yeah, you’re welcome. No problem. G’night.” He scampered out the door as fast as he could without seeming to anxious. At least I think that was his plan. It failed. He was definitely nervous and skittish about what was going on. 

“Why’d you tell him that? Now he’ll think we’re nuts… or juvenile imbeciles who don’t know the difference between dreams and reality” Megan said.

“Better he think that then try to explain what really happened.”

“And what exactly is that?” Laura eyed Jonathan suspiciously. “So your name’s Jonny, is it?”

“Jonathan,” he replied meekly.

“He needs food,” I said, stepping in, “and ice for his jaw… and sleep too. He looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.” I thought they would jump on me for siding with him, but Laura’s look softened. “You’re probably right. He looks more like Death Warmed Over than any actual incarnation of Death.”

“Here,” Megan said, “I know it’s not gourmet cuisine, but it’s hot and we got all the trimmings.” She placed the tray on the table inside the door. “So,” I said looking at Jonathan, “How do you like your burger?”

“Um…well, cheese, extra cheese actually and tomato if it’s there.”

“Sure is,” I replied. “Anything else?”

“Nope, that’s fine.”

“Wow… creepiness,” said Laura.

“Shut up,” I said sarcastically. Both the girls giggled. It was the first time we’d laughed in over a day.

“What?” asked Jonathan, looking confused and a little sad again.

“That’s how Mina likes hers, lots of cheese and tomato. Sometimes bacon too, and always with tons of salt.” She handed him his burger and he took a bite.

“I love salt,” he said between chewing.

“Great minds,” I replied, tossing him the shaker after using it for my burger. He caught it one-handed with barely looking. “Wow, nice reflexes.”

“Thanks. Ow.” Jonathan put his hand to his jaw.

“Oh God, I forgot, here.” I grabbed the ice pack off the table and walked over to him. I sat down with my burger and fries next to him on the bed and held the pack to his face. With my free hand I picked up my burger and started eating. “It’s ok,” he said, reaching to remove my hand, “I can do it.”

“No. You concentrate on eating. I’ll hold this here. It’s no problem.” Megan and Laura were both looking at me with “you’re doing this because you feel sorry for him, why?” looks. I mouthed “what?” to them, along with “he needs to feel ok to tell us anything.” They both shrugged and dug into their food. For about ten minutes the room was filled only with the sounds of the four of us masticating. I don’t really think any of us knew what to say.

Finally, after finishing his burger and taking a sip of apple juice (also a favorite of mine, this was a bit odd, but also kind of appealing), Jonathan broke the ice. “Thank you. All of you, for helping me, for being so kind. I really don’t deserve it but,”

“No, you probably don’t,” Laura interrupted. His eyes filled with tears again, and his head sunk down. “But,” she sighed, “Mina’s the people reader here, she knows what people to trust, and if she saw fit to trust you and help you, then I guess there must have been something in you worth helping.” Megan simply nodded, either because she couldn’t think of anything to add, or because her mouth was full of mashed fries.

“Still,” he said, “You didn’t have to do anything. You could have tossed me out the window or called to cops. You didn’t have to do all this.”

“Well,” Megan said, “if we’d tossed you out or had you arrested, we wouldn’t have any answers to what’s been going on.”

“She’s right,” Laura added, “things have been pretty odd the last few days, and you’re the only person who can tell us anything.”

“I don’t really know that much, at least not that will help you, but I’ll tell you what I do know.”

“You don’t have to do this tonight,” I said, “It can wait until morning, you look as if you haven’t slept in a week.”

“Three,” he replied, “but it’s ok. I want to tell you. The last thing I remember, I mean really remember as myself, was being thrown into this van by some huge guys in suits. I was hiking out in the woods when I saw something. I thought it was a dragon or something like that. I thought I was going crazy. Next thing, these two blokes come up behind me and launch me into a van.” He said “bloke” and he said it with a slight Irish brogue. I wondered if he was really Irish, or if it was something he just threw in unconsciously. “Anything else that happened I only remember in spurts. It was like I was trapped inside this being that wasn’t me, but kind of was. I was being forced to do things I didn’t even know I was capable of, and things I didn’t want to be capable of.”

“Why did you come after us?” I asked. “Because I was ordered to… more like forced to. I was trapped in a place where I felt despondent and helpless, completely alone. Sometimes I could see this shadow of myself, what it was doing, but I couldn’t stop it. I tried to reach people, I screamed and stared and cried, but no one heard. Until you.” He looked at me. There were tears streaming down his face. “I am so sorry for what happened to your friend. Sorry for chasing after you all. I know it sounds crazy, but it wasn’t really me inside there. I’ve never been a violent person and I don’t have any real explanation of what’s been happening. I’m sorry.”

“What about Cara,” Laura asked, “is she dead? Did you kill her?”

“N-no. No. I never killed anyone. I just took them to some warehouse. I think it was the same place I saw in the distance while I was hiking that day. I don’t know what they do there, I just know that if you get too close you end up like me, a puppet to some… thing, or like you, running from it. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.” He closed his eyes and the tears kept running down his cheeks.

I reached across him and grabbed a tissue, wiping his cheek. “It’s alright.” I assured him. “Look, do you think you can get back to that place, the one you saw? If Cara’s alive we have to find her, or at least find that place and tell the cops.”

“You can’t go there, they’ll find you. If I don’t come back sooner or later they’ll come after me. When you get too close they take you or get something to come after you, whether you know anything or not. That’s why I told you before that I’m not necessarily the one who needs protecting.”

“Well right now you look like skeleton-boy, so I’m not sure you’ll be able to protect us anytime soon.” Laura assessed the situation pretty well. We had no proof that he was lying to us, and I was the one who read people best. He wasn’t a threat, but I didn’t really see how he could protect us in his condition.

He chuckled. “I’m stronger than I look. I was a footballer back home.”

“Footballer?” I asked. “You’re Irish aren’t you?”

“Yeah. I’ve tried to lose the accent since I’ve been here. But it comes through sometimes.”

“You shouldn’t lose it, it’s nice.” I said. He smiled at me and I felt myself blush. Damnit, I thought, do not become attracted to this guy. It was hard though. He kept looking at me with those eyes. Whoever did whatever they did to him must have known his eyes were already hypnotic. They were also soft and kind, something I rarely saw in guys, or really people in general.

“It’s really late,” Laura said, “we should all prolly try and get some sleep. You planning on running off on us Mr. Scarecrow?”

“No. I want to help, if I can.”

“Alright, then you guys take the other room, I’ll stay here.” Laura raised an eyebrow at me. “I’ll be fine.”

“Ok, sure, if you say so.” Megan grabbed Laura by the arm and pulled her towards the other suite room.

“Sleep well,” Laura crooned.

“You too,” I crooned right back. We all laughed, a good hearty laugh. It felt good. Laura and Megan left, leaving me with a “be careful” look, and shutting the door.

This was odd to me. I’m not usually the one alone in a room with a guy. I don’t have much luck in the guy department, at least not in the romance area of it. I’m typically the one they think is cool, possibly even attractive, but would never consider a relationship with. I’m good for a shag or two but no guy I’m interested in is ever interested in anything more than friendship or the occasional screw. Apparently because I think of a relationship as a committed, sexual relationship based on an existing friendship I’m some kind of freak. But that’s beside the point. So here I am sitting in bed, or more appropriately on a bed, with an attractive, athletic and seemingly nice guy who has done little else but stare intently at me since I met him, or more appropriately tackled him. Now we’re alone and he’s still gazing at me with his My Sweet Westley eyes, and resisting the urge to kiss him is becoming increasingly difficult.

“So what did you do before you were turned into a scary, floating, reaper-like thing?” I didn’t mean it to come out quite like that but it did. He chuckled and proceeded to tell me about his life in England before moving here and training high school soccer (football if you’re from Europe). It was easy to talk to him, and laugh about off color comments and digs at each other. It usually was for me. I wasn’t a tomboy anymore, hadn’t been for a long time, but it was still easy for me to talk to guys until I remembered I was attracted to them. Then all that came out was gibberish or something really stupid. Still, we were making a fairly decent go of it and before we’d realized it was 3am. “Wow, um, it’s now really, really late. We should, um, probably try and get some sleep now, don’t you think. You said you hadn’t slept in three weeks. That’s got to be rough.”

“Yeah. It didn’t do much for me,” we both chuckled. “So… I can sleep on the floor, if you want.”

“No.” That sounded too eager. “I mean, you haven’t been yourself for what, six months? You should get the bed.”

“I’ll be fine on the floor.”

“Look, we’re both adults right? And we’re both too tired to try anything, so how about we just stay put?” I’d used that line before. It usually worked. Though the guy was usually piss drunk too.

“Alright, works for me.” Result! “But don’t try anything while I’m asleep,” he said as he gave me a wink and smiled. It was a sweet smile, missing any malice or sexual predator signals. I smiled back then leaned toward the other side to switch off the light.

“I hope you sleep well,” I said.

“Me too. We’ll need our strength tomorrow. I hope you sleep well too. Thank you.”

I barely heard the “thank you,” I had already drifted off to sleep. I woke up once, after a particularly menacing nightmare and it took a second to get my bearings. By the time I remembered where I was and who I was with I think I had woken him up. His arm was draped across me gently, as if he was offering a comforting arm. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Sorry if I woke you, bad dream.”

“It’s fine. I’m here. If you have another, I’ll still be here. And I’ll be here for you in the morning.” I felt him lean forward and he kissed my shoulder. I shivered, partially from surprise, and partially from arousal. “Mina, is everything alright?”

“No, but we’ll make it alright, eventually. I hope.”

“We will.” His voice was firm, resolute and comforting.

I turned around to face him and in the dark I gently slid my hand across his face. He leaned in and gently kissed my forehead. Bastard. See, what most men don’t realize is that if you really want to hook a girl, if you really want to her pine over you for years and believe that you share something special, kiss her on the forehead. It is the one sure-fire way to endear you to a girl’s heart and make her think you believe her to be more than a friend, more than a sex object. It shows her you think of her as a woman, deserving of love, your love, and protection and caring. If the light was on he probably would have seen me glaring at him. I’ve been kissed on the forehead one too many times by insincere men and boys who have no idea what it means to kiss a girl there. But I was too tired to glare or fight about it. Instead I just snuggled my head into his neck as he wrapped his arm around me.