THE WEEKS CREPT by slowly, an end never really in sight. They probably seemed even more torturous because the police had told Dr. Sterling that there was a possibility that I was suicidal—which, if you can't guess, means she bumped up the weekly visits to just about every day. She wasn't really helping with anything. She kept asking the same questions over and over again, and then kept assuming things like she thought she'd get it right eventually. I'll say this: The cops are lucky they haven't had to come back to investigate another murder.
Of course, my despondency to just about everything probably wasn't helping anything. I was still struggling with not just completely shutting down, which was much harder than I'd realized it would be. Having Lyle around reminded me that I couldn't just shut everybody out—well, I could, but that wasn't the point. The point was that I couldn't just become a robot like I wanted to. I had other people that cared about me, and I had to take their feelings into consideration. Sometimes, though, it was very hard to remember that.
It was especially hard to to remember when Lyle wouldn't stop being relentless about me telling him what was bothering me. We'd had quite a few arguments because he'd pushed me until my patience had run ragged and I couldn't take it anymore. You'd think he'd get on my nerves less, but no, he was still the same annoying Lyle Bane today as he'd been a year ago. And sadly, I liked him all the more for it. I guess it's true that you don't fall in love with someone because they're perfect, you just see an imperfect person perfectly and that does you in. I don't think I minded much, either.
The door to the dormitory clicked shut behind me and I fell onto the chair in front of the window. I'd just returned from another meeting with Dr. Sterling and I could barely contain all the irritation and anger running through my veins as I blew my hair out of my face. My posture in the seat was so bad, that even Derrick, who was busy playing another one of his video games, noticed. I didn't notice that he'd focused his attention me at first, though, because I was too busy imagining ways to murder Dr. Sterling without the authorities getting suspicious.
“What's wrong with you?” Derrick asked, breaking my homicidal thought rampage.
I huffed and sat up a little. “I'll tell you what's wrong with me,” I muttered, my grimace deepening. “Dr. Sterling's what's wrong with me, that's what.”
He smirked. “She still thinks she can fix you?” he guessed, shaking his head as he returned to his video game.
“Yes,” I groaned, throwing my head back. “Why can't she just accept the fact that I'm a crazy, hallucinating lunatic and leave me alone?”
Derrick laughed, despite the fact that I was serious. Okay, so maybe I was joking just a little. Fine, I was joking completely—but I did wish she'd just leave me alone. “Well, Lyle's still at practice,” he said, pounding the buttons on his controller. “So you can complain all about it to him when he gets back.”
“Gee, thanks, Derrick,” I joked, shaking my head. “Good to know that I can always come to you when I need to talk.”
“You're welcome.”
I shook my head again and headed upstairs, deciding that I should probably go for a run. I hadn't been running for the past few days, which might have been the reason I was so ticked off all the time. Running was my outlet, and since I hadn't been doing that lately, my emotions were running haywire. It was either that, or my depression had spiraled into insanity, which was possible. I saw the Grim Reaper for Pete's sake, it wasn't a far stretch.
My sneakers pounded the hard-packed dirt pretty hard as I ran, my speed steadily increasing until I was practically sprinting. Yeah, I really needed this. I could feel the tension leaving my muscles as I ran, everything in me relaxing. It was like a weight was being lifted off my shoulders with every step I took. I could feel myself becoming happier. Hopefully, it would stick around this time.
Eventually, I got tired and stopped, realizing too late that I was on the opposite side of the track from the bleachers. Lyle was sitting by my stuff, watching me, and I realized that the swim team had finished practicing already. I started for him and my stuff, but ended up stopping and falling to the ground in the middle of the field. I was just too winded to continue moving.
“Jemma?” Lyle exclaimed almost immediately.
I raised my hand and gave him a thumbs up, letting him know I was fine. I was still gasping for breath, and my chest definitely felt like it was on fire. I'd say I was burning from the inside out, but it felt like I was burning on the outside too. I was burning both inside and out, yippee!
A shadow fell over me and I squinted up at the figure above me. “You okay?” Lyle asked, staring down at me. I could just barely make out his lips curved up as he stared at me with an amused expression. I continued to gasp for breath, but decided that staring up at him would have to suffice as answer enough. He eventually laid down beside me. “So, you see Dr. Sterling yet today?” he asked after awhile.
I'd finally caught my breath by now and groaned. “Ugh, don't remind me,” I muttered, throwing my arm over my eyes to shield them from the glaring sun.
Lyle laughed. “She that bad?” he chuckled, grasping my free hand in his.
I laced our fingers together and peeked over at him from under my arm. “She's the Devil in disguise,” I told him, closing my eyes again. “I'm guessing you've only ever been to see her once?”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice sounding a little distant. He was probably remembering something I couldn't. “It was after Derrick and I had gotten here. They'd sent us, separately, to her to talk about how we felt about losing our parents.”
I squeezed his hand a little. “I'm sorry,” I murmured. I shifted so that I was propped up on my elbow and leaning over him. “I didn't realize that was the only time you'd gone to see her.”
He stared up at me and grinned. “Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything wrong,” he pointed out, his eyes laughing at me. He tried to shrug, but since he was laying down, it was a little awkward. “Things happen, and I like to think they happen for a reason. If things hadn't happened the way they had, I wouldn't have met you and I certainly wouldn't have found out Dr. Sterling was the Devil in disguise. I mean, who knew?” He laughed when I glared at him.
“You are so funny,” I exclaimed sarcastically, rolling my eyes at him.
“You know you love my stupid, witty comments,” he said, sitting up and pulling me up with him. He kissed me and I laughed against his lips, pulling away.
“Stupid, yes,” I agreed, grinning at him. “Witty, not so much.”
“Hey,” he exclaimed as I jumped to my feet. “That's not nice.”
I started for the bleachers, glancing back at him as he followed. “What isn't?” I asked, smiling at him innocently.
I was at the bleachers now, about to reach for my water bottle, when he caught me around the waist. “Walking away from me when I'm not done with you,” he mumbled against my neck.
I giggled. “Stop that, that tickles,” I told him, trying to push his head away.
He tightened his grip on me. “Oh, does it?” he said, his voice filled with mischief. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of my neck and I laughed, trying to squirm free.
“Lyle, stop,” I whined, laughing when his fingers joined in at my sides. Finally free from his grasp, I danced out of his reach. “Ha, now you can't tickle me.”
He raised an eyebrow and smiled at me mischievously. “Who says?” he inquired, taking a step towards me.
I stamped my foot. “I do,” I whined, pouting as he got closer. “Lyle, don't!”
He caught me around the waist again before I could turn and flee. “Fine, but I want something else if I can't tickle you,” he murmured, his head ducking close to mine.
I could see the glint in his eyes, but decided to ask anyways. “And what's that?” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“A kiss.”
Our lips locked together and I smiled against his. Then his arms tightened around me and before I knew what was happening, he lifted me into the air. He set me back down on the bleachers, now making me a slight bit taller than him.
I broke the kiss and glanced down at the bleachers beneath my feet. “Did you just put me on the bleachers?” I asked, glancing back up at him quizzically.
“Maybe,” he smirked, his eyes laughing at me again.
I frowned. “I'm not short, though,” I pointed out to him, leaning away and setting my hands on his shoulders.
His smirk widened into a grin. “That, my dear Jemma, is a matter of opinion,” he said, winking at me as he stared up at me.
The way he called me his “dear” had my heart fluttering in my chest. Still, I wasn't too happy being called short. “I'm five-nine,” I told him, standing up straight and crossing my arms across my chest.
“Yes, and I'm well over six feet,” he said, pressing his lips together as he kept from laughing. “Glad that we all know our heights. Can we get back to kissing now?”
My lips twitched up and I opened my mouth to tell him no, but someone interrupted me. “Niks,” the coach for the track team said, catching my attention. He held out a small, folded piece of paper towards me. “This came in for you.”
I moved along the bleachers until I was close enough to grab it. “Thanks, Coach,” I said, glancing down at my name scrawled across the tiny piece of paper. The handwriting looked familiar, but I couldn't place why.
“Who's it from?” Lyle asked after the coach had walked away. He walked over to me and peeked at the piece of paper in my hands.
I stared down at him, exasperated. “How am I supposed to know if I haven't even read it yet?” I asked back, jumping down onto the ground.
He threw his hands up in a surrender-like fashion. “Well, sor-ry,” he muttered, smiling slightly. “I was just curious.”
I laughed at him. “You and me both,” I told him, biting my lip as I stared down at the note. Why did the handwriting look so familiar? “I'm gonna read it real quick, one sec.”
“Okay.”
I opened up the note and began reading it, paling when I realized why it was that I recognized the handwriting.
Jemma,
You didn't listen. Really, Jemma, I figured you'd be a little smarter than that. Your best friend died almost a month ago now, and you're still at the academy. Was that not warning enough for you, or did it just fly right over your head? Okay, little red, how about this:
Leave the academy now, or your boyfriend is next.
You should know, just because I can't kill you while you're at the academy doesn't mean I can't kill those you care about. And I do love a good killing. Choose wisely, little red. I'll be waiting.
Seriously questioning your intelligence,
The Secret Admirer
My legs started shaking and it wasn't long before I was forced to sit down. My breathing sped up as I stared down at the small piece of paper, too stunned to do much more. The Secret Admirer had written to me again, and he'd just admitted to killing my best friend. Did that mean that the letter from before had been real too? Had I blown off a real threat as a prank?
“Jemma, what is it?” Lyle asked, crouching down in front of me. I just shook my head, trying to sort through my jumbled thoughts. “Here, let me see,” he said, and reached for the note in my hand.
“Lyle, don't—” I exclaimed, but it was already too late. He'd already grabbed the piece of paper and was scanning it quickly. I stared at my lap as he read, not wanting to see his reaction once he realized that I was possibly a potential threat to his life.
“Jemma,” he said quietly after a few seconds. “Jemma, what did I just read?”
I shook my head, already feeling the tears welling up in my eyes. “I-I don't know,” I mumbled, covering my face with my hands and then taking a deep breath as I pushed my hair out of my face. “Okay, so you know that letter I basically freaked out on you about?” I started, biting my lip as I glanced over at him. The start was the best place as any to begin, I guess.
His expression was guarded. “Yeah,” he said, drawing out the one-syllable word. He watched me as I bit my lip, trying to collect my thoughts and not freak out at the same time. “Jemma, what about it?”
“Well, the same guy who wrote that note, wrote the letter,” I explained, my voice quiet as I avoided his gaze.
“What did the letter say?”
I shrugged. “He basically just admitted to killing my parents,” I mumbled. My fingers were lacing together and unlacing in my lap. “And...”
Lyle set his hand on mine to stop my nervous twitching. “And?” he questioned, waiting for my reply.
“And that he was coming to kill me.”
“Jemma,” Lyle gasped, his shock sounding way more pronounced than I thought it would be. “Why didn't you go to the authorities?”
I glanced up at him sharply. “I thought it was a stupid prank letter, you know that,” I told him, frowning. “Obviously, though, it's not.”
Lyle sighed, running his hands through his hair. “Okay, can I see the letter?” he asked, meeting my gaze.
I opened my mouth and then sighed. “I guess it couldn't hurt anything,” I muttered, grabbing my things and standing up. “It's in my room, though.”
“Why did you keep it if you thought it was a prank letter?” Lyle asked as we walked back to the dormitory.
I pursed my lips. “I don't know,” I admitted, glancing down at the ground as I walked. “I guess I just had this nagging feeling that it was real, so I kept it just in case. Not that it would do much: there's nothing there that would help the authorities.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I shrugged, kicking a rock ahead of me.
We made it back to the dormitory and he followed me up to my room. I grabbed my pillow and slipped the letter out from between it and the pillowcase. Then I turned and handed the flattened piece of paper to Lyle and sat on my bed, watching the ground as Lyle read the letter. How would he react to reading that there might be a murderer after me? He'd seemed to be taking it better than I thought he would when I'd told him, but reading it for himself might make him change his mind.
“Jesus, Jemma,” Lyle muttered after about a minute, dropping his hand that held the letter to his side. “Why didn't you tell anyone?”
I frowned and rolled my eyes. “I'm getting tired of repeating myself,” I told him, leaning back on my hands. “Besides, I technically did tell you.”
He pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, you basically shouted at me that I wasn't funny and that I shouldn't talk to you again,” he pointed out, and then he grinned. “Of course, then we got paired up as partners for that project.”
“That just wasn't fair,” I muttered, frowning at him.
He grinned down at me. “I thought it was,” he said, towering over me. “You didn't want to talk to me and you were forced to, just to get a good grade.” He scrunched his nose. “Of course, I couldn't talk to you about anything but the project, otherwise you'd rip my tongue out. Your threats are scary, you know that?”
I smiled up at him. “Yeah, I know,” I sighed, reaching for the letter. “That's why they're threats.”
“Ha, ha,” he mumbled, handing the letter back to me. “So what are you planning on doing now?” His expression was unreadable as he stared down at me, watching me stuff the letter back into my pillowcase.
I chewed on my lip as I thought about it. “I guess I'm gonna do the only thing I can do,” I sighed after a few moments, not meeting his gaze.
He stiffened, which told me he already knew the answer as he asked, “Which is?”
My gaze slowly found his and I winced at the tense expression he wore. His jaw was clenched and his hands were balled into fists at his sides. He didn't look angry, though, he just looked like he was preparing himself for what I was about to say. Like he was preparing for a battle he wasn't sure he'd win.
“I'm going to leave St. James's.”
“Jemma, you can't just leave,” Lyle said for about the billionth time already. “You read the exact same thing I did, he'll kill you!”
I paused in my packing and turned to face him. “Exactly,” I shot back, crossing my arms in front of my chest, “you read the exact same thing I did. I can't allow you to die because I'm too selfish to do the right thing.”
“Don't you want to live?” he exclaimed, running his hands through his hair furiously.
“Of course I do,” I murmured, grabbing his hands. “You need to stop doing that. One of these days, your hair is going to fall out.”
“Jemma,” Lyle groaned, leaning his forehead against mine. “Do I at least get a say in the matter?”
I smirked up at him. “Obviously not,” I told him, squeezing his hands before releasing them and turning back to my bag. “You want me to stay, and I'm not going to. You'll just have to deal with it.”
“But what about how I feel, huh?” he snapped, anger tinging his voice. “What if you leaving hurts me? What then, Jemma?”
I winced and turned to face him again. “Lyle, you'll find someone el—”
“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head fervently. “No, don't say I'll find someone else, Jemma.” He reached for me and cupped my face in his hands. “I don't want someone else, I want you. Why can't you understand that?”
“It'll hurt for a little while,” I continued, my voice quiet. I swallowed and reached up to grab his wrist, running my thumb over it. “But you'll get over it eventually. I'm not the only girl out there.”
His jaw clenched and his eyes turned hard. “Fine, you can leave,” he said, his voice steely.
I let out a sigh of relief, smiling up at him gratefully. “Thank yo—”
“But I'm coming with you.”
My jaw dropped before I could stop it. “Excuse me?” I exclaimed, staring up at him incredulously. He wore a smug smile with his arms crossed triumphantly across his chest. “Lyle, you can't come with me, it'd be beside the point of me leaving!”
He just shrugged. “Too bad, I'm coming with you,” he said simply. His expression said that I couldn't persuade him otherwise, but I wasn't going to give up easily.
“Lyle, if you come with me, you'll just end up dying anyways,” I sighed, exasperated. “And me leaving would have been for nothing.”
His arms dropped and he reached for me again. “Then don't leave, Jemma,” he insisted, his eyes staring into mine pleadingly. “I can't lose you.”
I pressed my lips to the inside of his hand. “You won't be losing me, Lyle,” I whispered, “I'll always be with you.”
He smirked slightly, but his eyes didn't quite lose all of their pleading. “Let me guess, you'll always be in my heart,” he joked. His smile faded and he brushed some of my hair away from my face as he whispered, “Jemma, don't leave, please.”
Looking up at him, he looked so vulnerable. Like if I left, it'd literally destroy him inside. But if I didn't leave, he would actually be destroyed. He'd die, and I'd never have another opportunity to talk to him. I'd never see him again, and I couldn't handle that. I couldn't handle being the reason that someone else I cared about died. So I did the only thing I could think of doing.
I lied.
Staring up at him, I sighed. “Okay,” I murmured, lacing our fingers together. “I won't leave.”
Surprise flashed into his eyes, and then he stared at me with a guarded expression. “Really?” he asked, his eyes narrowed on me. “You're not just saying that to get me to forget about it?”
I nodded. “I mean it,” I told him quietly, squeezing his hands to assure him.
He stared at me for a few moments more, searching for something. He must've found what he was looking for, though, because he smiled timidly after a few minutes. Then he pulled me into him and wrapped his arms around me, holding me so tightly that I thought he'd never let go. “Please, don't leave me, Jemma,” he murmured against my hair, like he wasn't entirely convinced.
“I won't,” I whispered against his chest, holding him just as tightly as he was holding me. I didn't want to leave him, but I had to. I couldn't stay here and let him die.
I couldn't watch someone else I loved die right in front of me.
We spent the rest of the day together, mainly because he wouldn't let me out of his sight. He stuck to me like glue and followed me wherever I went. I would've found it funny had I not known his reason for being near me. He still suspected that I'd try to leave and wanted to make sure I didn't go back on what I'd said. His plan wasn't actually all that bad, but he'd forgotten I wasn't an idiot. I wasn't going to leave while he could still keep an eye on me.
Spending my day with him wasn't really that bad, to be honest. It wasn't like we'd spent all of our waking moments together for the past month or anything. We had other things to do, and we knew we'd see each other at meals and some time before we went to bed. We each had our own, separate lives, and we respected that. Except now, he wasn't entirely sure he'd see me before we went to bed—and since it was Saturday—we didn't exactly have anything else to do. So we spent the day together, stealing the PS3 console from Derrick to play each other for a few hours.
When we weren't playing video games, Lyle and I simply cuddled and talked. It was actually a little strange, since I'd never really considered myself one of those girls who wanted to cuddle and talk. Plus, I'd never thought Lyle was one of those guys who'd instigate such a moment, yet he was the one to do so. It made me realize what I'd be missing if I left, which made me think that that had been his plan all along. Make me realize what I'd be missing if I left so that I wouldn't leave. He just forgot that if I stayed, I'd also be losing all of this—and there would be no way for me to get it back.
I was holding firmly to the belief that I could find a way to survive if I left St. James's. Lyle was convinced that I'd die immediately if I set one foot outside of it, but I couldn't see how he was planning on keeping me here. He had until the end of this school year and then he had to leave because he was a senior. I had at least another year left before I had to leave, and even then, I had to leave. I'd never known any of the other orphans who'd been allowed to stay passed their senior year.
“What?” Lyle asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking down at me.
I realized I'd been staring at him for the past few minutes and blushed, looking down at my lap. “Nothing,” I mumbled, too embarrassed to say much more.
He laughed and hugged me closer to him. “You're cute, you know that?” he said, his mouth close to my ear.
I shivered as his breath tickled my ear. “You're lucky I like you,” I murmured, glancing back up at him and smirking. “Otherwise, you wouldn't have gotten away with that comment.”
“Oh?”
I grinned. “Yeah,” I whispered, my gaze dipping to his lips as he got closer. He pressed his lips to mine, the kiss soft and slow. He shifted and pulled me closer, almost leaning over me.
“Dear God, get a room,” Derrick exclaimed, disgust and laughter in his voice.
I pulled away from Lyle and stuck my tongue out at his younger brother. Then I yawned. “Oh no,” I muttered through the yawn, blinking furiously. “I think I'm tired.”
Lyle laughed. “Okay,” he said, shifting me on his lap. “Up we go.” I watched him curiously as he braced his arms underneath my legs and my back.
“Whoa,” I exclaimed as he stood up with me in his arms, forcing me to throw my arms around his neck to keep from falling back. “What are you doing?” I asked, glancing from the ground up at him.
His smile was lopsided, sending my nerves on a frenzy. “I'm taking you up to your room,” he explained, starting to the stairs.
I smirked at him, raising an eyebrow. “And how do you plan on opening the doors?”
He stopped in front of the door to the stairwell and frowned. “I didn't think this through very well,” he muttered, glancing from me to the door. Then he grinned suddenly. “You can open the door, though.”
My eyebrows pulled down as I glanced at the door. “You better not drop me,” I told him as I reached for the door with one hand, pulling it open.
He rolled his eyes. “I won't.”
I pulled myself closer to him as he started up the stairs, hiding my face in the crook of his neck. When it came to the next door, I opened it too and made sure to keep my head from being hit. My toes sort of clipped the door frame, though, and I laughed as he apologized. Shaking my head, I leaned it against his shoulder and smiled as I watched him. Eventually, though, he set me down in front of my door.
He ran his hand through my hair once before settling both of them on my waist. “Goodnight, Jemma,” he whispered, ducking down for a quick kiss.
I wasn't having any of that, though. I deepened the kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck so he couldn't pull away. It might've been a bad idea to kiss him like this right now, but I didn't care. Hopefully he wouldn't see the kiss for what it truly was: a goodbye kiss. One last kiss before I left and there was a chance that we never got to see each other again.
“Goodnight, Lyle.”
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Okay, so, how was that?!?! Was it good enough for you?!?! Haha. Well, just wanted to let you guys know that there's a video to the right - "Outta My Head" by Daughtry - which I think fits with the story. Tell me what you think?? :D
EDIT:
A/N - I made this chapter longer. :3 Plus, she doesn't leave just yet in this chapter. Well, technically she did, but you guys aren't gonna get to see that. >:3 Nope, you guys just a cute chapter of Jemma and Lyle being adorable together. Is that not enough to content you?
STOP! <------- Unless this is gone, it means chapter eight hasn't been edited and you probably shouldn't read further. Please, respect that and know that if you DO read on, you will be very confused. "Wait, why is Lyle and Rachel and Jane and Derrick with her? When did this happen? Why am I so confused?!?!" I'll tell you why you're confused: You read on when I told you not to, you cheater! Now wait like everyone else. >:3
Actually, that stop sign isn't moving--but you can continue anyway. Chapter eight has been completed. You just have to stop there because I haven't finished chapter nine. I'm sorry! :P
Stay awesome, opossums! :) ~sage
Don't forget to vote and comment!!! :D