| He was afraid to look down. A memory invaded his mind. 14 years earlier � Ralston�s shot. Andie � the stunned look on her face, the blood. There was so much blood. Mera�s white blouse was stained in it, her mouth a wide �o�. He blinked. No blood. No �o�. A look of anger now, not shock, not surprise. No gunshot, no gun, no Andie. A smashed glass lamp base � lying over the floor. Mera screaming, her left arm going to her right, tugging at the tattered sleeve. Pacey reached out, pulled back the sleeve. There was blood. A small gash on Mera�s arm � piece of glass falling from the sleeve with the movement. �Mera�� New memories. Andie. 16. Tim. The day he�d nearly lost her. Her dead brother keeping her mind hostage. The photo album he�d found � Andie, Jack, Tim. Her reaction, smashed lamp base. �Let me go,� Mera said softly. She pulled out of his grasp for the 2nd time � gently. Licking her lips, she walked backwards, rolling down her sleeve calmly. He stood, not wanting to move, not wanting to make the realization of what had happened, what it meant, where it led. He heard Mera�s door click shut, heard a lock snap shut. He wanted to run after her. Bang on the door, tell her to come out, he would cradle her to his chest � tell her everything would be okay. But between the assaulting memories and the sinking reality of the situation, he knew he couldn�t. He just couldn�t force himself to lie to her again. * * * The blood had finally stopped. She didn�t know how long she�d been in the room � or how long since her accident � but she did know it had stopped. Mera had taken a few first aid classes over the past years � wanting to be prepared in her work with Mitchell and Catie. She knew how to distinguish between serious bleeding and something minor. What she had suffered � a piece of the broken lamp slashing her arm � was a scratch. Bandaged with Kleenex and scotch tape, the arm was elevated, as she lay on her small bed. Though small, the room was definitely not. She had chosen the bed � always wanting a canopy � the soft comforter that adorned it a blue plaid pattern. A dresser, desk, collapsible curtain and book shelves completed the room. The walls were a soft rose colour � her choice and Pacey�s 14th birthday gift to her. She shook her head, remembering again what she thought was the last half hour. Why had she been like that? Why had she said such awful things to Pacey � things she hadn�t even bothered to take back? And yet she had felt powerless to. The strong emotions had just come to her � taking over her mind and her body. The one minute she�d been ecstatic about her perspective �date� with Vartan. Happy from the days events, she had come home wanting to see Pacey. But when he opposed her � it was as though something snapped. A hot liquid surged through her veins � and she saw red. Before she had time to realize it, she was yelling hurtful things, tears streaming down her face. Why? And it was not relatively new. A few weeks ago, when Jeff had mentioned how Vartan �looked hot�, she had nearly bitten her best friend�s head off. Jeff, no doubt shocked, had backed down immediately. She apologized, covering herself with the customary �gosh, no, Mera. I�m not talking about it in that way. I mean, he�s so totally obviously into you.� But lately � least before today � Mera had begun to wonder. Never really caring before, she had become concerned over her appearance � and comparing her way inferior looks to those of her best friend. Jeff Cavanaugh was born beautiful. She was gifted with the long brown locks, that curled slightly to give them lift. Her eyes were a most unusual hazel colour � made lighter in contrast to her dark locks. She was athletic � pep squad, cheerleading, dance and track outside of school. She was someone who could show up in sweats, a t-shirt and fresh faced � yet own the room. Mera, however, was not athletic. She enjoyed walking and did play soccer and outdoorsy type games with the Leery kids. But her passion was school. She did her best in classes that challenged her � enjoying a good math problem or essay paper. As a child, she�d heard people refer to her as �gifted�, but hadn�t understood why until her elder years. She had blonde hair � straight as an arrow � that hung loosely just below her collarbone. Her eyes were blue-green, most often dark blue. She was of average build, and � unlike her counterpart � could not pull off the �relaxed sweats look�. When she tried, she ended up looking very much the part of a slob. Deep down, she did not care about looks, about how others saw her and responded to her. But the bout of self consciousness had come on suddenly. She hadn�t time to prepare for or staunch it. Just another of the crazy things she had been experiencing of late. All without reason, without cause. She was an avid reader, and had researched the topics from teen angst to puberty, to the mood swing disorders. But nothing seemed to fit. She had been a teenager for four years now without a major upheaval. Now this. Treating Pacey like crap, wanting her way no matter the cost. And after all he had done for her. She remembered little of her life before him. She knew she was 2 when her mother had died. He had told her minimal information about her mother � and about life before chaos. |