It's Like Pain, This Pleasure.

I Flicked On The Light Beside My Bed, Waiting For My Breathing To Slow, Veins Full Of Adrenaline From The Realistic Dream. A New Dream, But In Essence So Much The Same As The Many Others That Had Plagued Me In The Past Months. No, Not A Dream. Surely A Memory. I Could Still Feel The Heat Of Jared's Lips On Mine. My Hands Reached Out Without My Permission, Searching Across The Rumpled Sheets, Looking For Something They Didn't Find. My Heart Ached When They Gave Up, Falling To The Bed Limp And Empty.

He Was Giving Up On Keeping Me Alive, Letting Nature–or Rather Mob Justice–take Its Course. When He Returned, And I Was Dead, He Wouldn't Hold Anyone Responsible. He Would Not Mourn. All This I Could Hear In Those Three Words.

He Leaned Over To Kiss The Top Of My Head, And Then Groaned. I Looked At Him, Puzzled. "you Smell So Good In The Rain," He Explained. "in A Good Way, Or In A Bad Way?" I Asked Cautiously. He Sighed. "both, Always Both.

And The Smile I'd Been Waiting For Stretched Across His Face Like The Sun Breaking Free Of The Clouds.

A Hundred Yards Away, Mike Newton Was Lowering Bella's Limp Body To The Sidewalk. She Slumped Unresponsively Against The Wet Concrete, Her Skin Chalky As A Corpse. I Almost Took The Door Off The Car.