Song: Slow Meadow (by Lachrymosia)
*
"Angela," Noah rushed forward and enveloping her in a hug. She wrapped her arms around his midsection tightly, as she buried her face in his gray shirt. Maybe if she tried hard enough, she could disappear into it entirely, melting into the dark fabric like she shifted into the past. She wanted to forget the past few hours, to erase them from her memory like they had never existed. In his embrace, she was able to breathe in his heady, familiar scent and lose herself in the softness of the cotton fabric against her face.
"Angela," Noah said again, when a shudder ran down her body. He pulled back and looked at her, but Angela was unable to meet his eyes with her own puffy ones. She suddenly wanted to get away from him and go back to hugging him at the same time. "Are you okay?" Noah asked gently.
"I'm fine," she said perfunctorily, roughly wiping away the tears that escaped at the kindness in his voice. She had only seen shocked faces ever since her car had hit Keely.
He examined her face. Angela looked at his shoulder, where she had gotten his shirt wet.
"No, you're not," he said, and she didn't deny it. He looked around her room. It seemed very distant to her, like Angela didn't belong in this place where she was once so innocent. "Sit down," he said, leading her to the bed with tender hands. She obeyed without protest, lowering herself wearily.
He seated himself beside her, the bed dipping under his weight. She had not made it that morning, and Noah threw a wrinkled sheet over Angela' shoulders. Perhaps he thought her shaking was due to temperature and not horror. Angela held the cover close around her body anyway, staring at the close space between their legs. If she moved her knee an inch it would bump into his thigh.
"You were right," Angela said. Her voice was raspy.
Noah kept silent, and she didn't look up to see his expression.
"I should have learned to control it," Angela said.
Noah's hand, which was laying on his leg, twitched. She studied it: the curvature of his fingers, the short, blunt nails, and the light dusting of hair on his forearm. "You went back in time," Noah realized slowly.
Angela nodded, another tear sliding down her cheek. She let this one fall. "When I came back, Keely was right there. I - I tried to stop, but I couldn't --"
Then his arms were around her, and he was trying to bring her close. Angela resisted for a moment, but eventually she allowed herself to lean against him. She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself, but nothing could stop the remorse.
"I told you that just this morning," Noah said, his chin resting on the top of her head. "Even if it was possible, you couldn't have learned control in that short of a time. This isn't your fault."
"I don't know that," Angela said. " I didn't even try. Maybe I could have stopped it, prevented it, saved Keely, if I had only tried."
She was right, and both of them knew it. Angela couldn't be absolved of guilt. Thought Noah didn't speak of it, Angela wondered if he had figured out why she hadn't tried. Angela knew; she saw herself in all of her disgusting selfishness. She hadn't tried to prevent herself from seeing ghosts because she wanted to see Scott again.
"I will help you," Noah promised. "I'll help you stop this. Whatever it takes."
"How?" Angela asked. The situation was hopeless.
"I don't know. We will, though. I swear, Angela, that this will stop."
Even though Angela knew, logically, that Noah might not be able to keep that promise, he sounded so determined that for a moment, she believed him. They had done it once before. They could do it again.
Noah's grip on Angela tightened before he let her go. He stared into her eyes, and this time Angela was caught in the intensity of his gaze. Noah Mason was a force to be reckoned. "What did you see when you went back?"
"That boy got into the car with me," Angela said, frowning as she strained to remember the exact words passed between the two. Her brain, she knew, was not at its full capacity due to lack of sleep, but she was able to relate the entire conversation to Noah.
"Laurence," Noah repeated. "It's a start. No last name?"
"He didn't say. I don't think he even wanted to give me his first name."
"He's got to have a reason for haunting you. We'll figure it out," he said reassuringly.
She nodded, but the damage had already been done. Angela Grodberg had become a murderer.
*
Feedback request: Did you understand who it was Angela hit with her car? Also, was the transition from the last chapter to this one smooth or abrupt (in your opinion)?
Thanks for reading! Sorry for turning people into killers! :)