Diclaimer: Yada yada yada
A/N: Here is my LATEST, GREATEST (we will see) story!!! I know I know, it hasn't been long since my last one, but ANNA SUSWILLO helped me out with this plot (kindly continue to kick ass, messy buckets. So here it is. I HOPE you enjoy, my ever-faithful clutchlings.
Everything was being ordinary for me. The life of Susannah Simon was for once a peaceful, tranquil, uneventful one.
Well, I say ordinary. What I really mean is semi-ordinary. Ordinary would be pushing it. Here is what my semi-ordinary life consists of: good hair days, school dragging, friends being cool, my tan being even, having a beautiful, loving boyfriend. And no ghosts.
My ordinary life would consist of: good hair days, school dragging, friends being cool, my tan being even, having a beautiful, loving boyfriend. Plus ghosts.
For the past three weeks my life has been of the semi-ordinary variety.
And I have liked it, okay?
So when Father D came up to me one lunch time to guide me to a quiet corner in the school and asked me if I had seen or heard from Paul in a while, I thought nothing of it.
Actually, that's not the truth.
I thought, Wow, semi-ordinary life is picking up.
So sue me! The guy ruins my happily comfortable semi-ordinary life and just plain wrecks my ordinary one. I instantly forgot about Father D's worried frown when I returned to Adam and CeeCee, the former of which was seeing how a ham, jelly, and peanut butter sandwich (plus banana slices when I arrived) would taste.
Not nice, judging by the greenish tinge that swallowed up his face and clashed with his red GAP tee.
However, when Paul suddenly appeared in my room later that evening, interrupting my English essay (oh, and I was so sorry to be interrupted during that), all that concern on Father Dom's face about Paul came rushing back to me with the force of a nuclear bomb.
"Oh my God, Paul! You're dead!" I shrieked and ran up to him, gripping him by the arms. My hands cushioning the familiar glow that surrounded the dead.
His face momentarily crumpled but then he composed his features and nodded, his eyes swimming and body trembling. I felt my own eyes prickle uncomfortably and then scalding droplets were trailing down my cheeks. It felt as if someone had stuffed a nerf ball down my throat and I choked quietly.
My knees weakened and my peripheral vision shrank dramatically, grey and white spots dancing in front of my eyes.
Paul quickly grabbed my arms and led me to my bed where I sat in a state of shock, staring at the wall opposite.
"You can't be dead. You're a...a mediator... You just can't be..." I lifted my eyes to plead with his. To let him wake me up from this nightmare I was in. But in nightmares, you don't hear your step brother grunting in the room down the hall as he lifted weights, and you certainly don't hear the television in the lounge, blaring out the latest news.
This was all so sudden. So unreal. I couldn't take it all in. People don't just die!
And then Paul spoke.
And God, I wanted to kill him myself.
"You're right. I can't be." I looked up at him incomprehensively. He lowered his head to mine and whispered, "I'm not."
My vision swam back into view, everything becoming dazzlingly bright. My hand stopped shaking with shock, and started shaking with rage.
The words eventually soaked into my suddenly thick and cold skin. They seeped right through into my brain. And then they crackled, igniting every nerve, thought, and reaction in my body.
"You...bastard..." I could no longer hear any sounds except my heavy breathing. "You complete and utter bastard..." I looked at Paul and there was fire in my eyes. He saw. And he backed off slowly.
"S-Suze I'm sorry! It was just a....just a joke!" He lifted his hands to defend himself.
Just a joke? Just a goddam joke?
"I thought you were dead. I thought you had died. Do you have any idea what that's like? To be told someone you know and are close to is dead? When my dad died-" I broke off with a choke. Memories of receiving the news that my dad had died flashed through my mind.
They were like daggers, every single one of them.
Paul's face paled and he took a step towards me with his arms outstretched. I flinched.
"I forgot, Suze. I forgot about your dad. I never would have put you through that if I'd-"
"Oh, but you still would've put me through that? You still would've lied to me and told me you were dead? What, was this some sick joke of yours to find out how much I care for you?"
By the guilty jerk of his shoulder I guessed that's exactly what it was.
"You bastard," I repeated with venom. "Well I don't care for you in the slightest. At least, not any more. Do you know what I was thinking of when you lied to me and told me you were dead? I was thinking of my dad. Not you. My dad. So don't you dare go away and think I was upset about you. Don't you dare!" I stood up and lashed out at him. Pounding my fists against his chest, his shoulders, his face.
And do you know what the sneaky, slimy creature did? He dematerialised. And I was left thumping thin air.
Obviously I stopped. God, I'm not that much of a loser.
But the anger and fury and the hurt I felt consumed me. I just wanted to hurt something. Kill something. And that something was Paul. But of course, the coward had run away. And I was left to deal with the aftershocks.
I snarled and stormed out of my room, almost yanking the door out of its hinges as I went. When I flew down the stairs and my mom asked me where I was going, I merely growled, "Out." and I was out of the house.
I didn't notice all the roads I stalked down, or the roads I crossed without looking. I just took off, unconsciously heading towards our school. When I reached the iron gates, I vaulted over them and carried on to the rectory. My feet and calves were stinging and there was a gash on my hand – stuff gash, it was a gorge – that was spewing blood. But still I carried on until I reached the rectory door and pounded on it.
Father Dom opened the door with a mask of shock on his face. "Susannah!" He gasped, his voice reproving and concerned.
I barged past and paced up and down. "I hate him," I snarled, "I hate him!" I whipped round to face Father Dom, still with his mask of shock on.
"Hate whom, Susannah?"
"Paul." I spat the name out and decided I hadn't had enough of spitting it out. "Paul Paul Paul Paul Paul Paul bloody Paul!" Father D made no noise of disapproval at my manner or words but approached me calmly.
"Querida?" Jesse's voice was full of anxiety and distress as he appeared from behind.
I sat down reluctantly when Father Dom's always-surprisingly strong hands weighted my shoulders.
"You wondered where he was, Father D? Well, heaven knows where he actually is but do you wanna know what he told me? He told me he was dead." Father D's eyes widened and his mouth dropped. I gave a bitter laugh. "Yeah, I know. And do you know what I did?" I felt that familiar anger rising up in me. "Do you know what I did?"
Father D reached out a hand to comfort me on my arm. I flinched away and stared hopelessly into his eyes.
"I cried." I said the words with disgust and pity. Self-pity and self-hate. I felt a sneer play at my face. "I cried for that son of a-"
"Susannah..." Father D's voice was quiet but commanding. Even in a time like this he could still be worried about naughty words being spoken.
I looked at Father D's eyes again, my vision swimming with fresh tears.
"All I could think about," I whispered, "was that day when my mom had come up to me and told me my dad was dead. It was like it was happening all over again." My eyes fell to my hands curled in my lap, as if they were made heavy with all the tears.
Father Dom crouched to my level and gently touched my cheek. "But he's not dead?" He quietly asked. I shook my head.
No. Paul was not dead.
"Then..." Father Dom continued, "What exactly is he?"
I hope you likey likeyed! I know tis a wee bit odd.
But you'll get over it.