I Want Him Back...

I Want Him Back... - Part 8

[To make up for the short chapter, here's another one ^_^. Okay, mainly because I wanted to write it because the suspense was killing ME. Sad, I know but to be honest, I'm surprising myself in this story ^_^ Thanks for the comments on the last chapter! Keep it coming please!]

Beep-beep-beep. Beep-beep-beep. Beep-beep-bee-

Belinda's hand crashed down on her alarm, stretching as she did so. It felt good to be up first thing on a Sunday morning, not wasting time. Looking around for the diary, she felt a twinge of something. It was like she was forgetting something, something that was worrying her...what was she forgetting? It wasn't Keith for Keith was always there. She didn't have plans and she couldn't possibly be late for anything...

She shrugged it from her mind. She refused to let the idea that something might be bothering her ruin her morning. So instead of pursuing the thought, she let it slip through the probing fingers of her mind and hummed merrily as she searched for breakfast. Hmmm. Pop-tarts today, she thought cheerfully, opening a chocolate one. She was on her second one when she felt it.

She was standing in a sleeveless-top-and-shorts set, facing the sink with her hair down. So when she felt the first whisper of something on her shoulder, she thought it was her hair. Scratching at it a little as it tickled, she ignored it, reaching for a glass. She was thirsty and she was reaching for a carton of orange juice when she glanced in the mirror, a reflex reaction.

So she was surprised when she saw the smudge of something moving behind her. She stood right next to it as she poured her juice, trying to see if the smudge was a trick of the light or something on the actual mirror. And then she saw it again, almost as if something was gathering behind her, swirling and forming. Of course, she glanced behind her immediately but saw nothing. So she looked back at the mirror, confused and-

* * *

Maggie bolted awake at the sound of screaming. She had grown so accustomed to the sound that she would probably wake up to it even if she was two floors above it. She practically flew to Belinda's room, frightened. It had been nearly a whole week since Belinda had woke screaming, which had led Maggie to that safe zone of thinking Belinda was doing better, might be getting over the nightmares. And once Belinda was over the nightmares, Maggie could tell her-

She wasn't in her room. Maggie looked down at the made bed before listening again. Oh, she thought, it's coming from downstairs. But why is Belinda screaming downstairs? The thoughts ran even as Maggie did, flying to Belinda's side in the kitchen. Or at least she tried but was halted by the shards of glass in the middle of an orange puddle. And Belinda was sitting beside it, screaming, eyes wide in terror and pain.

"Belinda! Belinda, are you okay?" Maggie said desperately and she picked her was across the puddle without stepping on the glass. "Oh, Belinda, what's wrong?"

Belinda shuddered, the screams cutting off slowly. Almost as if Belinda was choking them down. Maggie prayed her mother was still in bed, blissfully unaware so that Belinda could tell her in her own time. It wasn't that Belinda didn't trust her, Maggie knew. But Maggie was the one Belinda was closer to her emotionally and she was who Belinda turned to. Even as Maggie hushed her now, Belinda was thinking of how to tell her what she'd just seen, what had...appeared.

"Oh, Maggie, it was terrible," Belinda sobbed, her head in her hands. "I was just...I was getting juice and then...it was just there. And then it...and I...oh Maggie, I was..."

Soon Maggie managed to clean up the mess - both Belinda and the orange juice - and she joined Belinda in the living room. Belinda was slowly coming out of the shock, her eyes coated in both shed and unshed tears. The pain beneath the tears was so strong that Maggie felt like there was a knife in her own gut, twisting to make her feel that same intensity and loss. And even like that, Maggie didn't know if she could ever really understand how much it was hurting Belinda to relive this.

"...and then, I looked in the mirror and...and...he was just there, looking at me," Belinda said, her breathing accelerating and hitching. Maggie knew there was no point asking who 'he' was. But Belinda was going on. "Oh Maggie, he looked so...I don't know, I thought he looked happy for a second, like he thought he was back. And then he looked scared and then- then he looked like he needed something. And then," she sobbed hysterically, "then he started reaching for me, and his lips were moving, like he was trying to tell me something and I couldn't tell what he was saying!"

Belinda had howled the last words with such anguish that Maggie couldn't help but reach for her, hold her. She was worried, not because she thought Belinda was losing her mind but that Keith might be in more trouble than she had thought. But he's all in one piece, Maggie thought, her hands shaking as she stroked Belinda's hair. Belinda needed her now and Keith could have her help when that was done. From the sounds of it, it was what he would want anyway.

As Belinda's new bout of hysterics drew to a close, Maggie let her sit up. Belinda gave a watery smile and scrubbed at the tears on her cheeks. Now that her time of confidence was over, she was trying to cover up, try to make Maggie believe she was recovering. Maggie wondered, in that instant, why Belinda was up already. Belinda rarely woke earlier but it had been a growing trend all week, she realised.

Had Belinda woken up happy? Had Keith seen that, was that why he had been happy? Had he been scared because she had got scared? Could this - however unlikely the thought appeared to Maggie - have all been Belinda's imagination? Could she have imagined Keith in the daytime instead of at night this time? Or, Maggie thought suddenly, were the dreams being sent to her too? Was there a force at work here, that was trying to tell them something they were missing?

"Thanks Maggie," Belinda said, her eyes genuinely grateful. "I'm really sorry I woke you up. I was...I should have stayed in bed this morning, I shouldn't have pushed it. I'm really, really sorry."

Maggie let Belinda go on her way, her mind flicking into overdrive. It made sense that someone - possibly two - was trying to get in touch with Belinda and Keith made the logical choice. But Keith wouldn't want to send Belinda horror, not if Belinda was reading him accurately this morning. Maggie could understand if the dreams were a warning but they were only telling her what she already knew. Was there anyway they could work this out without Belinda breaking?

Belinda, at this point, was sitting on her bed, thinking. She had told a little lie. Not about anything important, she knew but she still couldn't have sat there any longer without telling Maggie what else had happened. She didn't want to share that particular horror, nor the intimacy intertwined inside it.

Belinda sat back and relived those last moments. Keith had seen her fall, followed her down. His hand had reached to brush her cheek, his lips caressing her name, like it was a prayer, as if saying the word could break the barrier between them. His eyes had been so soft and she knew that her own had been filled with an intense longing. And she had sworn that she had felt his hand brush her cheek, oh so lightly, almost like a moth's wing. And she had reached up, wanting to feel it again and-

And that was when her hand had gone through his arm. That was what had made her scream. Not seeing him, not having him near her but not being able to touch him, as if he were a-a ghost. And Keith had looked at his own hand with horror plain and pain evident. He had clutched at it, backing away as though it was contagious. But she had seen the effort it took to leave her. She had seen how much he had needed company and she had screamed. And now he was gone. Again.