I DOVE INTO the throng of people, pushing some aside when they were too stubborn to move. I had to find Sam before something bad happened. Someone elbowed me in my side and I wheezed, hunched over. It was just my luck to get injured when I was looking for someone like a mad woman. It was too dang loud in the dorm room, and way too crowded. Why did the Grim Reaper have to pick tonight of all nights to suggest my best friend was going to die?
I wasn't paying any attention to where I was going as I ducked around a group of people, which resulted in me slamming face first into someone's chest. “I'm so—” I started, cutting off when I glanced up and realized who it was. The blood drained from my face and I took a step back. “Vince,” I breathed, swallowing hard.
He eyed me up and down. “I like the outfit,” he said, taking a step towards me. I glanced down at my short-shorts and tank top, wishing I'd taken the time to put on more decent clothing. I tugged down on my shorts, hoping that covered more. “It's skimpier than you usually wear,” Vince continued, taking a step towards me.
“I, uh—” Crap, I couldn't figure out how to get away. Why did I feel the need to excuse myself around this creep? He'd tried to rape me twice already! “I have to—” Hands clamped down on my waist and I squeaked.
Vince pulled me into him. “You don't have to do anything, Jemma,” he breathed in my ear, and I cringed. Dang it, why did this keep happening to me? “Lyle doesn't care anymore, little red. I can do whatever I want now.” I stopped breathing, staring up at him with wide eyes.
Then I started to struggle, I really didn't have time for this right now. “Let me go, Vince,” I snapped, trying to work myself free. When his grip on my waist didn't loosen, I reached up and slapped him across the face.
We froze.
Vince and I simply stared at each other, both of our eyes wide. Then his gold irises filled with rage that looked like it was bordering on murderous, and I ran. I dashed into the throng of people, hoping to lose him in the crowd. I guess this was a reason to be grateful for being in such a crowded dorm room, it meant I could lose those who would want to murder me in it. I smacked right into someone else's chest, starting to fall to the ground until they grabbed my waist. Then again, maybe there was no reason to be grateful for a crowded room.
“Jemma?” the person holding me exclaimed quizzically. I glanced up and my breathing stopped as I met a pair of brown eyes that could only belong to one person. Lyle. He was staring at me, concern written clearly across his face as he kept me from falling on my butt. “What's wrong?” he asked. His grip on me loosened and he took a step away.
I couldn't speak; heck, I could barely breathe. All I seemed capable of doing was staring up at him with my mouth slightly open. I forgot that I was running for my life, that I was trying to possibly save my best friend's life. All I could think was of everything from earlier as it all came rushing back, reminding me of how badly I'd managed to screw everything up with him. Part of me wanted to start apologizing to him profusely and tell him that I hadn't meant what I'd said over a week ago. The other part of me was too scared he'd reject me and say that I wasn't worth all the trouble.
“Jemma?” he repeated, his eyebrows pulling down as his concern worsened. “Are you okay?”
I opened my mouth to apologize for walking right into him, but someone else cut me off. “Jemma, you have a little something you have to pay for,” Vince's voice growled from behind me.
My eyes widened as I stared up at Lyle and I stiffened, suddenly remembering that I was probably about to be murdered. I whirled around, swallowing and taking a step back when I saw how close Vince really was. He was within touching distance. My shoulder bumped into Lyle and I cringed away before I realized who it was I'd just touched. Our eyes met, and then Lyle's hand was on my arm and pushing me behind him.
I stared up at him, shocked. “What are you doing?” I whispered, glancing from him to Vince.
He ignored me. “I thought I already told you to leave her alone, Vince,” Lyle said, sounding rather angry.
“Well, it's not like you care about her anymore,” Vince replied. His posture was relaxed and he wore the smuggest grin I'd ever seen. I hadn't even known anyone was capable of a grin that smug. “You've said it yourself, Bane.”
I winced and stared at my feet. Nope, didn't feel any better hearing it the second time around.
“One, I never said that,” Lyle snapped, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Two, even if I had said that, that doesn't give you the right to sexually harass Jemma.”
“It's not sexual harassment if she allows it,” Vince snapped back, his eyes finding me as I cowered behind Lyle. I stepped closer to Lyle, making it so that Vince couldn't see me anymore. “C'mon, Jemma—you know you want me.”
A whimper escaped without my consent and I stepped even closer to Lyle, my hands on his back as I tried to disappear. I felt his muscles tense under my hands and wondered if I should step back. He reached his hand behind him, though, and grasped mine in his, tightening his hand around mine. My heart slowed in my chest, I felt a smidgen better with his hand holding mine.
“Vince, if you know what's good for you, you'll leave now,” Lyle growled, taking a threatening step towards Vince.
I glanced up at him and frowned, staying in place. The way things were looking, I was sort of worried a fight might break out. When I glanced around to see if anyone was watching, my eyes landed on a dark figure with his hood pulled up over his head. With this lighting, I couldn't see his face, but the scythe kind of gave him away. I squeaked in surprise, watching as he lifted his free hand and pointed towards the door. That's when I saw a familiar blonde head ducking through the doorway.
“Sam,” I breathed, letting go of Lyle's hand and disappearing into the crowd.
“Jemma!” Lyle shouted after me, but I ignored him. I had to get to Sam.
I stumbled to a stop and then took off running when I realized something. If Sam was leaving the party, that meant she was probably going down to our room. Even if she wasn't, she would probably use the elevator. And the elevator wasn't working right. I tried to speed up, but someone stepped back and we collided. I muttered a hurried apology and took off for the door again, barely breaking pace.
When I made it to the door, I stopped in the hallway and glanced around. For a moment, I forgot which direction the elevator was. Sam wasn't in sight either direction, which made me panic more. How far had she gotten while I was trying to fight my way through the crowd? I sped off to the left and flew around a corner, grabbing the wall to keep from falling.
“Sam!” I screamed when I noticed her waiting for the elevator. “Sam, don't get on that elevator!”
Apparently, I was too breathless to get my voice to carry far enough, because she didn't even turn to look at me. Frustrated, I took off down the hall towards her. Just as I took my first few steps, the elevator doors dinged open and she stepped inside. I screamed at her, but she didn't even react to my voice. Instead, she turned around and pressed a button on the elevator. I almost tripped over my own feet when I saw the expression on her face. It was blank, as if she wasn't paying attention. As if she wasn't even there. My heart fell into my stomach as I realized that she wasn't there.
Sam was gone.
The elevator shifted and I sped up again, hoping I could get her off the car before it fell. But I wasn't fast enough. The elevator shifted again and then plummeted for the first floor as I stepped closer and fell off balance. My arms flew in wide circles as I tried to keep my balance, but I started to pitch forward anyway, only stopping when someone's arms snaked around my waist. That seemed to be the only way to catch me if I was about to fall lately.
I stared down the elevator shaft, staring at the elevator car sitting at the bottom. Shock flew through my veins as I stared. The car had just...fallen. At one point it'd been there, and then the next, it wasn't. Something shifted above my head, and then I was pulled back, away from the open elevator shaft. Something shot passed our floor as we landed on the ground, having lost our balance when the person had jumped back. Whatever had just shot passed our floor crashed into the elevator car a second later, almost shaking the whole building from its impact.
“Jemma,” Lyle murmured, brushing my hair away from my face. “Jemma, are you all right?”
My gaze moved from the elevator shaft to him slowly, still stunned. Then the denial set in. “No,” I breathed, scrambling to my feet and pushing open the stairwell door. “No, no, no, no...”
“Jemma,” Lyle called after me, and I heard his footsteps echo in the stairwell as he followed me. “Jemma, where are you going?”
I shook my head as I sped down the stairs. “She wasn't on the elevator,” I muttered, more to myself than to him.
He must've heard it, though, because he said, “Jemma, you saw her.”
I shook my head again. “No,” I shouted back at him, not wanting to believe it. “She must've already been back at the room. She has to be.”
“Jemma,” Lyle groaned, but didn't say anything else.
My lungs were practically trying to burst out of my chest when I reached the second floor and sped down the hall—that, or they were shriveled up raisins.
When I reached my room, I threw the door open and glanced around wildly. “Sam,” I called, moving for the bathroom and throwing the door open. It was dark on the inside. My breath caught and I backed away, shaking my head. “No,” I breathed, denying what was right in front of me. “No, she can't be dead.”
“Jemma,” Lyle breathed from behind me, touching my shoulder hesitantly.
I turned around slowly, staring at him as the tears built up and, one by one, began to slip down my cheeks. “No,” I whispered again, shaking my head. I repeated the word over and over again as he pulled me into him and wrapped his arms around me tightly.
I'm not sure how long we stayed like that, but eventually we were interrupted by Derrick. “The authorities are here,” he said, looking like he'd been running his hands through his hair.
“Okay,” Lyle replied for the both of us, nodding his head slightly. Derrick left the room, leaving the door ajar slightly, and Lyle glanced down at me. “Do you want to go?” he asked me, his eyes searching mine.
I smiled ruefully at him. “Do I have a choice?” I returned, blinking a couple of times before dropping my gaze from his.
He sighed. “I guess not,” he muttered, grabbing my hand. “Okay, you can do this. You got this, all right?” I glanced up at him, was he trying to give me a pep talk?
“Are you talking to me or yourself?” I said, letting him lead me out of the room.
We headed for the stairs, and he grinned down at me. “I'll let you decide that one,” he told me, squeezing my hand. I smiled slightly in response. I appreciated that he was trying to cheer me up, but it wasn't working. He pulled me to the side before opening the stairwell door to the lobby. “Hey, are you sure you're going to be okay?” he asked, ducking his head so that he could look me in the eye.
I frowned at him. “You said I was okay,” I pointed out to him, pressing my lips together. “I never said I was okay.”
“Jemma,” he sighed, putting a hand under my chin so I had to look up at him. “Will you be okay?” His eyes searched mine, filled with concern and lingering sadness.
Looking at him, I found it hard to tell him that I wasn't going to be okay. And I realized that I probably could make it through this. I'd already made it through a death before, I could do this. “Yeah,” I told him, nodding.
He smiled slightly, but it faded as he opened the door to the lobby and led me out of the stairwell. We stood off to the side as the authorities tried to remove the elevator car from the shaft, and then as they tried to remove the body from the crushed car. It was when I saw her body—and it was confirmed that Samantha Jaclyn Reys was dead—that I realized that what I'd told Lyle was a lie. I wouldn't be okay, especially after seeing her body. She'd died because the multi-ton elevator cables and assembly had come crashing down on top of the elevator car, completely crushing it and anything in it under the thing's weight. Least to say, her body wasn't in the best shape when the paramedics covered it and took her away.
It was then that everything inside of me shut off.
“For the last flipping time,” I exclaimed, anger making my voice loud, “I didn't kill her!”
The officer, who was sitting in the chair beside the couch I was on, frowned and glanced down at his notepad. “We have multiple witnesses saying that you were running down the hall, screaming the victim's name, just before the elevator car crashed.” He glanced up at me, his grey eyes dull and accusing. I realized he'd already convicted me of the murder, or accidental death, or whatever they were dubbing it, in his head.
My lips thinned. “I had a bad feeling about it,” I muttered quietly. I couldn't tell him about the Grim Reaper—he'd convict me of insanity and send me to a mental institution. “The elevator had been a little off all night, I wasn't sure if it was exactly safe for her to be on it.”
“But you took it?”
“When I was in a hurry, yes,” I sighed, realizing everything I was saying was making me seem guilty, even though I wasn't. “Why am I suspect? I didn't even have any motive.”
“Firstly, your her best friend, we have to look at the people closest to her first,” he explained, his tone bored. “Secondly, are you sure you didn't have motive? Witnesses say that you and the victim hadn't been speaking for a week prior to the accident.”
I snorted, prior to the accident. It had just happened a few hours ago, not a week ago. “So because we hadn't spoken for a week, I turned into a homicidal teenager?” I suggested, shaking my head. “Yeah, pretty sound logic there, officer.”
“Why weren't you two speaking?”
I rolled my eyes. “She didn't want to talk to me,” I snapped, shaking my head. “If anyone was going to murder the other for not speaking to each other, it would've been her murdering me.”
“Why was she mad at you?” His questions were starting to get annoying.
“We had a bit of a disagreement,” I muttered, glancing down at my lap. “Look, I didn't kill her. If that's even what happened here. The elevator cables and assembly could've just snapped finally, they were kind of old.” Even I didn't buy that, but I was getting tired of repeating the same old thing over and over again.
The officer squinted at me and frowned. “Fine, we have all we need for now,” he said, flipping his notepad closed and standing up. He readjusted his belt around his pudgy belly and walked away.
I curled up on the couch and stared at the corner beside the TV. Authorities still swarmed the entire lobby, writing down notes and talking to other kids that had seen what had happened. The anger and irritation slowly subsided until all I felt was nothing. My heart beat steadily against my ribs, my brain sent signals to the rest of my body, but that was all. I was on auto-pilot now.
The couch dipped as someone sat beside me. “Hey, are you okay?” Lyle asked, watching me closely.
I swallowed, but didn't look at him. “I'm fine,” I muttered, still staring at the corner. The TV stand blocked the light from reaching that particular corner, encasing it in shadows. It was the dark in the light, it was always there.
“Jemma, please,” Lyle murmured, reaching for my hand. I allowed him to take it, but didn't really respond. “Don't shut me out again.” He sounded like he was worried and like I'd hurt him.
I glanced over at him, guilt nibbling at the back of my mind when I saw the hurt swirling in his brown eyes. “I'm sorry,” I told him quietly, lacing my fingers with his. It would take a lot of effort on my part, but I could open up to him. I'd just have to remember that I wasn't alone in any of this. “For everything.”
He pulled me into a hug. “It's fine,” he murmured against my hair, rubbing his hand up and down my back.
I smiled slightly. “Thank you,” I whispered. It actually felt pretty nice to be held by him, made me feel safe. It wasn't something I'd felt in the last few weeks, and it was a welcomed feeling to feel it now. I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.
“Jemma!”
My eyes shot open and I suddenly realized that I could no longer hear Lyle's heart beating. Then I realized that, even though he'd just shouted my name, he didn't sound anywhere close to me. Nor did he sound like he was anywhere in front of me; he sounded like he was behind me. My arms shot out the sides of me as I lost my balance and saw the ground several floors below me.
I was on the roof.
“Jemma, please come down from there,” Lyle begged, his voice panicked. “Please.”
“Lyle,” I called over my shoulder, trying to keep my balance. “Lyle, how did I get up here?” My voice was high-pitched with fear and uncertainty. I'd closed my eyes and I'd been in the lobby with Lyle, and when I'd reopened them, I was standing on the edge of the rooftop. How in the world did that happen?
“You walked up the stairs,” Lyle explained, sounding just as puzzled as I was—and a little more panicked. “You don't remember?”
I shook my head, and then panicked when I lost my balance again. “No,” I shouted. I couldn't take my eyes off the ground that was ten levels below me. The people down there looked like tiny specks, moving around slowly. Some had even stopped and were staring up at me, pointing their fingers. One in particular, holding a scythe, stood out to me.
The sun began its ascent into the sky for the new day.
“Jemma, I'm going to need you to turn around slowly,” Lyle started, sounding closer than he'd been last time. “Then you can step back onto the roof and come back to me.”
I swallowed, I wasn't sure if I was capable of keeping my balance while I did that. But I really didn't want to die, and the way Lyle's voice cracked on the last few words made my heart wrench in my chest, so I tried anyway. Carefully, I moved my feet to face to the side, turning myself to face the same direction. I was turning to face the roof and Lyle when I lost my footing, my arms flailing uselessly.
“Jemma!” Lyle shouted, and I saw the fear in his eyes as I fell over the side.
I screamed, just barely catching the edge of the roof with my fingers. An image of me from the point of view of the onlookers below flashed into my mind, and I watched myself as a black dot grow bigger and bigger until I finally splat on the ground. I whimpered and tried to tighten my grip on the cement, but my fingers were slick with sweat—and try as I might, I couldn't pull myself up enough to grab the ledge with my other hand. However, one moment I was stuck dangling on the side of the building.
And the next, I wasn't.
A scream built up in my throat as my fingers slipped completely from the ledge of the roof and I started to free fall. It seemed like the image in my mind was about to be lived out. And then I jerked to a stop, hitting the side of the building not-so-softly. I glanced up, relief filling me at the sight of Lyle holding onto my hand with his. I could see the relief in his eyes too, but we weren't in the clear yet.
“It's okay,” he muttered, “I got you.”
I glanced down at the ground and cringed. “Can I come back up, please?” I asked, trying to keep my tone lighthearted. It just came out tinny and scared.
I grasped his hand with my other and he did the same to me. Then he started to pull me up, and I tried my best to help him by using my feet. It wasn't that difficult, but since I was barefoot, the building scraped against the balls of my feet. When I'd finally made it back onto the roof, he pulled us down onto it and pulled me onto his lap, winding his arms around me tightly.
“Thank God you know how to grab a ledge,” he joked weakly, but his arms tightened around me. “You need to stop trying to die on me.”
I huffed into his neck since I was still too shocked to really laugh.
“Am I really that bad to be around?”
His tone said he was joking, but when I pulled back, his eyes told a different story. I shook my head quickly and said, “No, of course not.” I smiled timidly at him and pushed some of his hair out of his eyes. Then I stared at him in confusion. “When was the last time I almost died?”
“Over a week ago,” he murmured, the smile that had been growing across his face dying slightly. “When you dreamt of the car accident and then told me 'whatever was happening between us' wouldn't work.”
I winced. “I'm sorry,” I whispered, glancing down. “Things were happening, and I was confused, and I-I-I'm sorry.”
He pulled me closer and leaned his forehead against mine. “It's fine, Jemma,” he murmured, his eyes searching mine. “I understand.” The smile that spread across his face was slow, and only half-met his eyes. “I would like to know why it won't work at some point, though,” he teased. His arms tightened around me further, like he was saying that I couldn't leave even if I wanted to.
“Sam.”
He stiffened. “What about her?” he asked, his gaze turning quizzical.
I frowned. “She's the reason why it wouldn't have worked out,” I explained, glancing away from him. “At least, at the time, she was. I thought she liked you—she'd made it very clear the week before—but then she was making out with Derrick at the party tonight.”
Lyle's whole body rumbled with laughter. “He's been infatuated with her ever since she came to St. James's all of nine years ago,” he told me, his grin actually lighting up his eyes. Although, that could've been the sun still making its way into the sky. “As far as I could tell, though, her infatuation with him was off and on.”
“How could you tell and I couldn't?” I exclaimed, my nose scrunching up as I took offense. “I was her best friend, how in the world...?”
He laughed again, and the sound sent my heart into overdrive. “I think she managed to hide it by pretending to like me, Jem,” he suggested, brushing my hair from my face. “Is that the only reason?”
I frowned at him. “I'm not sure,” I answered him honestly. “With everything going on, I was confused. Not to mention, I was really, really scared, too.”
He stiffened. “Vince?” he guessed, his expression pretty much unreadable except for the fact that he didn't look very happy.
I nodded. “Yeah, Vince,” I clarified, grabbing his hand and messing with his fingers. It gave me something to do, and he didn't pull away, so I continued to do it. “I was scared of him, but I was also scared of you.”
His eyes widened and he shifted slightly. “Jemma, I wouldn't—” he began, but I cut him off.
“Let me clarify,” I interrupted, smiling slightly. “I was scared of letting you in—still am, by the way, but I'm willing to make the effort now. I was scared of what you might think if I told you everything about me, that you might not want to have anything to do with me once you found out.” I paused and chewed my lip. “It wasn't until you pointed out that it was my fault that we weren't friends that I realized something that scared me even more.”
“What was that?” he whispered, his breath fanning my face. Our faces were barely inches from each other now.
“That I like you,” I told him, biting my lip. “That I like you more than I thought I did, and that made pushing you away even more important. Because I couldn't let you in and risk letting myself get hurt again.” I glanced down. “Everyone just leaves you in the end.”
“Jemma,” he breathed, brushing some of my hair behind my ear and leaving his hand on my cheek. “I promise, I'll try my best not to hurt you.”
I smiled at that. “At least you're not promising something you can't keep, right?” I pointed out, meeting his gaze again.
His smile was softer than mine. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice just barely above a whisper. The wind blew our hair everywhere and the sun was starting to glare into our eyes. But just then, I didn't care.
Just then, he kissed me.
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A/N: Okay, so I should probably warn you: As of right now, August 4th, 2013, this story will probably no longer make much sense. Until further notice (meaning another edit on this chapter), you'll have to be very cautious. Things happened in the previous version of this chapter that lead to the next, but this version doesn't have all of those. Actually, it puts some aspects of the next chapter in this one and skips others that were supposed to be mentioned in chapter five and six altogether. Sorry, but this needs to happen in order for the story to develop. Thanks for reading!
Stay awesome, opossums! ;) ~ sage
RE-EDIT:
Okay, it's safe to continue on to chapter seven. :3