No, no, a lot of you were right on track! I told you that this was going to be a very symbolic/metaphoric story, infuriating as it may be to some. I'm just glad how well some people understood it. Serious, it you combine all the reviews I got from chapter 2, it basically spells it out for you. It is confusing, and those who were referring to the bible story . . . spot on.

Symbolism is a pain to read, but it's so fun to write! Um, let me try and write a quick reply to some of the questions, non-symbolic, you'll be pleased to hear. I won't do everyone.

# Luna: (I'm calling you that, I can't remember your other name!) Yeah, it is kinda ironic. Lol. I just love conflict, you love sunshine, don't ya? Well . . . maybe not, (remembers Siempre en mi Corazon.)

# Brittany: I'm not too sure. I don't really think that Paul is the right person to fall in love with? But I dunno, no one told me that when I did. And I thought I hated him. (Lolly? The guy is FICTIONAL! Me: NEVER!!!!)

# Devil at Heart: Kate? Now you see why I write the chapters? (squels for joy aahh eh) what IS that?!

# Lady Queenscove: I know! I'm an so psyched! I HATE waiting!

# Purtymanagirl58: Sorry . . . you got it dude. And for the first chapter review, nope, "lust" isn't Suze. I did that on purpose, hehehe, but it's not that. You have it though. And bad boys ARE so much more fun!

# Rissa: Your theory is also pretty much right. You got it perfectly.

# Alda Rethe: Ditto Rissa. And I didn't think of it that way, with the HP thing I mean. But I guess, maybe.

# Kewine: Aw, poor Suze. Nah, she's still sane. Just. But yeah, I'm going to alternate between the three stories. (Including Katie's one.)

# Nice Hayley: CAN SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT TABOO MEANS?! Sorry . . . I loved your review. You understand me! And yeah, will power and Suze are ONE. Totally! Wouldn't it be nice if this was a movie? With all the fire and the snakes and stuff? *Coooool*

Um, that's all I'll do for now.

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'Hey Suze.'

CeeCee smiled at me as she leant on my locker door. I was carefully retrieving my History book. I gave her hand a very pointed stare, and with a funny look, she moved it from the locker door.

'Sorry,' she said sarcastically.

I just shot her a look, and walked away.

'Oi! No ya don't, what's up with you?' CeeCee snapped, running after me and grabbing my elbow, her face accusing and hurt even. What did I care?

I just looked at her, and said calmly, 'Get your hands off of me.'

Her mouth fell open. 'Suze . . . what's going on? Why are you so-'

'So what?' I asked with a mock dreamy smile plastered on my face. 'So perfect? So beautiful? So –'

'Bitchy, actually,' she butted in. I glared. Just because she didn't have hair as nice as mine . . .

'Piss off, CeeCee. Go prance about with the other rejects of the school,' I said snidely.

Again, she looked punctured with hurt. Can you believe it, her eyes went a little wet? It was way funny.

'Bite me,' I scoffed, and tossed me head as I walked away, down the hallway. People were giving me shy smiles, but I just shot them all "Dream on" glares. I mean, even these ninth graders were smiling at me. What was with that? Haven't they heard of hierarchy? I was the Vice President of the sophomore class. I had status. They, on the other hand, did not.

I held my head high, walking with a modish sway. Man, did I feel good. I looked good too. I had long lace up slacks that flared around knee-high leather boots, which, unfortunately, I couldn't show off as much, and I had this totally cute black top that said "Drop and Gimme 20." My hair was blown to its full potential, and I just, you know, felt like I had general volume. Impact . . .

I'd woken up, and that dream I had? Ha, no dream. It had been real as you or me. (A/N: Um, Suze? You're fictional.) And the souvenirs were way hot, too. That classic apple? The really red one? I was carrying that around with me, I didn't know why. I just got the urge to take it with me this morning. Strange, but totally true. The mirror, that metallic icy one, was at home. The ice, for some reason, refused to melt.

Cool, huh?

'Hey, Suze . . . '

I spun around. Paul was leaning against one of the doors to a classroom. And remember those spasms of fear I used to get? Zilch. Nothing there. I couldn't believe it; I didn't feel scared. I mean, seriously, Paul was beneath me too. He chased me around like some pathetic puppy dog. He wasn't up there with me. Not worthy of my time, breath, or thoughts.

That was how I felt.

This totally rocked. What had that apple thing done to me? . . . I didn't no, but I was SO not complaining here. So, Paul's suspension was up. Damn. Now he could annoy the shit out of me again . . .

I gave him a bored look, crossed my arms, and raised my eyebrows expectantly. 'What?'

He blinked. 'Whoa, attitude much?'

I tossed my hair, and slid my hands in my pockets coolly. 'You noticed. Oh, the joy is killing me.' I gave him a mock thrilled look, but settled back into the "and you're alive . . . because?" look.

He grinned slightly, but looked a little confused. I could imagine what he was thinking. "What? She isn't scared of me? My life has no meaning. I'll go jump of a bridge now . . ."

We can hope.

My face twitched. 'Uh, well? I'm not going to just stand here all morning, Paul. I have better things to look at than your face, much as it may surprise you,' I said with a casual slur, running my tongue across my bottom lip.

Now he seriously looked put out. His little "We scare because we care" approach wasn't panning out much. 'I . . .' he said, still looking very confused. But never fear. Our little idiot found his confidence, he did!

He slid his hand down from the wall evocatively, and stepped toward me, his shoulders on a slanted angle.

But I stood my ground, staring up at him as if it was better to watch paint dry.

'I just wanted to remind you that we have a little shifting lesson,' he growled, backing me carefully against the wall, and placing a hand by either side of my head. I hugged my books to my chest. How dreary was this? I mean, come on. He had no right to be fraternizing with me. I was way out of his league.

'Oh, about those shifting lessons,' I said, ' . . . Nah.'

And promptly blew him a bubbling raspberry.

I ducked out from beneath his arms, but Paul wasn't having any of it.

'What the . . . ? Suze, I don't think you want to go back on your promise.' He grabbed my arm to impede my escape. His gaze was menacing.

'You don't think, period,' I snapped. 'And excuse me, but that arm? It's mine. So get your paws off of it, you loser.'

Wow. Now there was a guy who'd been cut.

He shook his head at me. 'What's eating you?' he sneered, hiking up on shoulder.

'Cannibals,' I shrugged, and again, went to walk away, but noooo. Our Paulie has no IQ, remember?

He snatched up my wrist, causing all my textbooks to tumble from my arms. I rolled my eyes. Great. He wasted my time, and he dropped my stuff. But all the same, his grip was as iron as I remembered it to be from that kiss that occurred in his room. On his bed.

Meant nothing to me anymore.

I mean, really.

He was so see-through.

Not worth it.

He shoved me into the classroom that we'd been lurking outside of, glaring. 'What the hell is up with you?' he snapped. 'Is this all about that stupid fight me and Jesse had? I mean, just because he hits like a girl, you don't have to take it out on –'

'Shut up,' I retorted, and stormed to the door, but he blocked me cunningly, looking down at me with a dangerous, nasty glint in his eyes. I didn't like it.

So it was time to teach him a lesson . . . He messed with my mind? Paul, meet your match.

'Paul,' I said in the most innocent voice that I could muster, changing my demeanour drastically. I slackened my shoulders to look vulnerable, and widened my eyes to appear scared.

Paul's evil twinkle flickered in his eye, and then died. 'Yeah?' he said, a grin coming to his face slowly.

I smiled timidly up at him. 'Look, I know how you feel about me. I really do. And it's all getting too hard for me to keep up this act,' I babbled knowingly, 'I can't hide this anymore.' I stepped hastily so that I was right in front of him, looking up at his face with guilty eyes. His hands lifted and rested on my shoulders, in this totally quixotic way. He cocked his head, and I saw him physically swallow.

'What?' he said impulsively, his grip on my shoulders getting tighter. I smiled, and rolled my hands up his chest, hand. His eyes danced eagerly. I stopped when they were at his shoulders, where I linked them behind his neck. Again, he swallowed.

Ha, he thought I was, I dunno, taking advantage of him or something. This was soooooo funny.

. . . Well, you had to be there.

'Shhhh,' I said, bringing my lips very close to his ear, running my hands through his hair.

'What?' he urged on, his hand slipping down to my butt.

Achy-breaky, big mistakey.

I sighed breathlessly, and smirked. 'That you're never gonna have me, loser.'

That was when I kneed him.

His eyes bulged so they were the side of bottle caps, and he slumped forward. I stepped back, admiring my work.

God I'm good.

Paul was swearing under his breath.

'Oooh,' I said in sarcastic sympathy, 'No need for the blasphemy, Paul.'

His head jerked up to look at me. He was seething! What fun!

'What the HELL is wrong with you, Suze? Sorry, but this is so not you. Even you couldn't be this big a bitch.'

I shrugged. 'And you couldn't be a bigger asshole. But if you think that this is as far as I can go, well, you're gonna need a bomb shelter if you wanna keep taking me on. Stay away from me. You are not worth the space that you take up on this sorry earth, Paul. Get a clue, and shoo.'

Paul stood up gingerly, his knees meeting in pain. I snorted.

'You're sad,' I said coolly.

'Who died and made you narcissistic?' he snarled, leaning heavily against the door.

And this was the guy who I used to be scared of? I used to think he posed as a threat to me?

I really sucked then.

I was a wuss.

'If I told you, I'd have to kill you,' I flexed my arms. 'But that wouldn't be such a bad thing.'

He shook his head at me. 'You've changed, Suze. People don't change overnight. What the hell is up?'

I ignored him, and turned the doorknob, but his hand came to mine and aggressively plied my fingers away. Oh my God, was he serious?

'I really didn't want to have to do this,' I shrugged. 'Hey, who am I kidding? This is something that, for a while, I've been DYING TO DO.'

I positioned my hands defensively, and kicked his jaw with all my might. He was thrown back against one of the desks behind him, and flipped over it. I burst out laughing.

'You SUCK!' I shouted condescendingly, pointing at him. And I left the classroom.

But his yell stopped me.

'Oh, what a beautiful apple I've found!'

I went still, but then stamped back in. No . . . I couldn't lose my apple. Not that special one. What if this feeling didn't last? Would I lose it if I lost the apple? And the mirror, what about that? My special mirror! No, Paul would NOT touch my apple. My apple was mine!

So Paul could kiss my –

'Hey!' I screamed in panic. His mouth was poised to bite it! 'Get your own!'

'How about . . . no,' he derided, and plunged his teeth into the blood red fruit, ripping a mouthful away.

Instantly, I felt like I'd been shot in the stomach, like someone had just ripped out a vital organ. I spluttered, and sprawled over the ground. OW! THIS PAIN WAS MORE THAN I COULD BEAR! Paul had sunk to his knees too, and was gasping, holding his chest. The apple slipped from his hand and rolled away . . .

And as suddenly as it had arrived, the pain stopped. Gone without a trace, like it had never been there. No repercussions, but the memory of how horrible it had been.

Paul's head was bowed down. I could see his shoulders shuddering. Was he still feeling pain? I didn't care if he was. In fact, I did care. I wanted him to, the bastard.

Random thoughts shot through my mind . . .

Where had my fear of him gone?

Would I lose this wonderful feeling of superiority?

Where was a mirror?

. . . But when he looked up, I sort of freaked. His eyes, they were like, glazed over with that Johnny Depp, Secret Window look again, but soooooo much worse. As in, past the nightmare, worse. Red, fiery, blazing.

Shit.

That was when the tiniest tremor of fear rippled through me. It wasn't dynamic, but I sure as hell remembered it.

Seizing my apple, I bolted from the room, running all the way until I collided violently with Adam McTavish. I groaned inwardly. Not that dork . . .

'Whoa, what? Who's giving away free hair-styling coupons?' he winced, rubbing his shoulder. I stared at him in a way that rivaled Kelly Prescott's.

'Push off,' I said to him disdainfully. I smoothed my precious hair. If he'd buggered it up, he was going down . . .

He stared at me in alarm. 'What? That time of the m-' he began, but noticed the apple in my hand.

The perfect, crimson, bite-free apple.

Huh? But Paul just –

Only Adam pinched it from my grasp. My mouth opened with outrage, but before I could reclaim it, he was grinning like an idiot, saying, 'Wicked apple,' and tearing a sizeable chunk away.

'Hell yum,' he sang out enthusiastically, returning for more, but with a lightning fast influx, the stabbing, intolerable pain invaded my body. I cried out loud, and fell against Adam, who was also wincing horribly, his face going VERY red. God, it KILLED! I shouted out, clenching my fists so hard that my nails penetrated my shin.

And it left again . . .

Wheezing, I slid to the floor, drained. Oh my God . . . was pain in that measure achievable? It was beyond the boundaries of suffering! Shit! I held my chest, panicking slightly.

Adam was very pale all of a sudden. 'What was that?!' I didn't answer, because I didn't know. Hang on . . . he was talking to me?

'God, Suze. Who are you trying to poison? I mean, I knew you weren't the best person to get on the wrong side of, but whoa. Little hostile?'

'Adam,' I said, massaging my knuckles in the palm of my hand, 'you wanna see hostile? Because I do hostile real well.'

He shrank back jokily. 'Don't hurt me,' he squeaked.

I stopped. 'You're not worth my time, dude. Go . . . swat a fly or something. Your jokes are so lame,' I added, walking away coolly, the impossibly perfect apple back in my hand. And I kept walking, right off campus. Right home, to my bedroom . . .

Where I staggered desperately inside, running before the enchanted mirror . . .

I gazed longingly. The girl that stared back at me was perfect. Like this apple. There were no flaws there. Everything was so gorgeous, from my eyes, to my skin, to my cute little nose. I breathed very shallowly. I looked flushed, but in this wintry, windswept way. My hands were gripping the sides of my desk like my life depended on it, if my white, skin-stretched knuckles meant anything.

This beauty before me was amazing . . . I had never seen myself like this in any other mirror. Mist surrounded my face. My reflection gazed back at me eloquently, with emerald irises that twinkled in the dim –

'Susannah? Why are not at school?'

Oh, great.

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And so, the curse being cast. It gets better, I promise!

Please review? Please? *Puppy eyes.* PLE –

Okay, enough.

Hehehe . . . So tired. See? 1.10am for you people! Please appreciate my sacrifice of sleep, young ones! And REVIEW!!!!!

Regards, MystAngel.