South of Nowhere 1. Ghost

This was a story I started about two years ago. I didn't get very far but I decided to revamp it and continue it. I hope you all like it. Tell me what you think.

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I was there when they found her. I couldn't blame the police. It didn't look good. There were four teens covered in blood, two of them dead. I remember her standing over the bodies in the gym. The florescent lights casted a sinister glow on the metal of the revolver. I stayed where I was on the floor, my head pounding. The police pulled out matching guns. _Put the weapon down!_ _Hands in the air! _She tried to say something. _I didn't -_

_Drop the gun or we _will_ shoot! _There was a cacophony of the metal as it clanked against the floor. I could hear gasping sobs. _I didn't do anything!_ She cried brokenly. I tried to focus on her sun kissed face, but the copper of her eyes started to coalesce with the blue of the polices uniforms... Oh Ashley, what did you do?

...

**2 years later...**

**"There ain't no reason things are this way.**

**Its how they always been and they intend to stay.**

I can't explain why we live this way, we do it everyday."

I maneuvered through the crowds of teenagers. I could only catch parts of what they were saying through my right ear as the bud of the head phone dangled by my waist. Comments of the new year, of sports and new kids invaded my thoughts and I put the other head phone in.

I made it to my locker in a less crowed part of King High's hallways. A few freshmen walked by and hushed in false deference.

"Preachers on the podium speakin' of saints in seance,

Prophets on the sidewalk beggin' for change,

Old ladies laughing from the fire escape, cursing my name.

I got a basket full of lemons and they all taste the same,"

I was graduating this year, but the feelings of empathy and regard given forth had already worn off. I wasn't very exuberant. Maybe I should have stopped for some coffee at starbucks after all... maybe I could get a underclassmen to do it for me. I rolled my eyes at the thought. They'd probably spit in it.

I picked up the the electric blue nano ipod and headed for AP French class. My thumb absently rubbed over the somewhat desiccated label on the back. I could almost feel the engraving through the slowly yellowing paper. Shaking my head to clear my mind, I began to hum along.

"A window and a pigeon with a broken wing,

You can spend your whole life workin' for something

Just to have it taken away."

"Bonjour classe. Je m'appelle Mm. Lapes." She continued on asking everyone else to say their names.

"Et toi?"

"Je m'appelle Spencer Carlin." She gave me a sympathetic look before continuing.

"Tres bien classe. Passons a quelque chose de nouveau." When the bell rang almost forty minutes later I was one of the first students out the door.

After French I had physics, AP government, studio art and finally lunch. The fidgety freshmen hurried off anxiously to their fourth period as I tried to get back to my locker to dispose of my incredibly intriguing _Introduction to Government_ book. I'm pretty excited... I think I might need to lose it accidentally.

I was just about to shut the rusty metal door when a lanky boy, probably 15 caught my attention.

"Do you need help?" I asked just wanting to go eat.

"No, I just... you're her right?" I could hear the cacophony of the people getting lunch and I wished that I could have just sucked it up and taken the book with me. "I mean, you're who they're talking about, right?" He asked all to egeraly. I closed the locker and placed both hands on it's warm surface looking down, not facing him.

"You don't have any idea what people are talking about."

"About h-"

"You don't know anything, ok?" I said unnaturally emotionless. "They're not talking about me anyways." I added quietly. He was still standing there when I left in the opposite direction. I traced the 'S' shaped scar that followed the curve of my eyebrow on my left temple and turned the music up.

"People walk around pushing back their debts,

Wearing pay checks like necklaces and bracelets,

Talking 'bout nothing, not thinking 'bout death,

Every little heartbeat, every little breath."

I had lost my appetite by the time I made it to the commons. I sat at an absent table near the back of the outside cafeteria and laid my hand on my folded arms.

"People walk a tight rope on a razors edge"

_Just because I'm not there, doesn't mean I'm not with you..._

I felt sick...

"Stop being a wuss Spencer." I said to myself, but I couldn't help but roll my finger over the pealing label on the ipod again. I needed to feel something that was still there, something that my fingers could read and memorize.

_Blue, like the color of your eyes..._

"Carrying their hurt and hatred and weapons.

It could be a bomb or a bullet or a pen

Or a thought or a word or a sentence."

I tucked the ipod back into the pouch on my canvas messenger bag. Without the constant music I started to notice how quite it was. People were still talking, but most of the seniors talked in frantic whispers. I tried to catch a sentence or two from the people around me, but I couldn't hear very well anymore. All I could see was how everyone's demeanor had morphed. The hairs on the back of my neck started to rise. I didn't want to be here; it was unnerving. I gather my things and began walk across the commons when I met his eyes as his mouth formed two word. I turned my head towards the ground imediately.

_She's back._

"There ain't no reason things are this way

It's how they always been and they intend to stay

I can't explain why we live this way, we do it everyday"


	2. Sheer Something

Tell me what you think.

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My head was spinning. _She's back? How could she be back? It's been two years! _The words were raging in my head like a storm, clouding all other thoughts. I thought I was going to be sick.

I walked, feeling disoriented, to my car. The keys kept slipping in my hands because they were beginning to sweat and shake. I rested my head on the wheel. I could see the mixed emotions in Aiden's eyes, the accusing look.

_She killed-_

No.

I didn't drive anywhere. I just sat there through calc and AP Literature.

_Just because I'm not there, doesn't mean I'm not with you..._

What happens now though?

I wanted to scream but I was drained of all energy, all emotion. So I sat there, staring at my hands, trying to remember what I did to _stop remembering_ for the last two years.

Taking my hands off the wheel, I stepped out of the car. I walked the deserted halls to my last class. The bell would be be ringing in few minutes anyways. My heels clicked eerily on the pavement. Even though it was still August, my faded jeans felt too cool. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, coming to the sleeves by my elbows. I pulled on them, then flexed my fingers and repeated the motion until I met the black fabric again.

Memories violated my mind. It was like I couldn't block them out no matter how hard I tried. I could even feel them. Lips and touches and promises. I dug my hands feebly into my pocket and rubbed the back of the cool metal I found there. This had become what I always did this when I was nervous. I pulled it out by the black cord and held it gingerly. I wasn't moving anymore; I was just staring at it. The cord wrapped around the silver piece. It was like a washer, circular and not much larger than a nickel. It was a necklace that some guys would probably wear. I didn't care though.

There were three black markings at the bottom. I remember asking her what they meant. She ran her hand over them as I was doing now and smiled back up at me.

_Something that I don't have enough of._

Strength. That's what it really meant. She finally told me, or maybe I just figured it out...

I shivered slightly as the cool metals shocked my skin. Wearing it again felt natural, terribly familiar. Even so, I didn't feel like going to psych, but I couldn't just stand there. Taking a deep breath I began to feel a fragile calmness wash over me. Well, I still felt like I might throw up, but at least my hands weren't as shaky. I tried to look on the bright side. At least there was a new psychology teacher this year. Maybe he wouldn't treat me like glass.

...

One minute and the late bell would be ringing. My hand twisted the nob and I practically fell into the classroom. The teacher looked up from his sheet of paper and over the top of his glasses. He was must have been in his late 50s.

"That class, would be an example of sheer panic." He smiled over at me. "Spencer Carlin?"

"Here." I mumbled weakly.

"Fourth seat in the last row." Mr. Lakey continued on about what we would be learning this year. He was very exuberant. I liked him.

"We'll also -" He rolled his eyes as the bell rang. "Okay, never mind. Have a great afternoon everyone." Heaving my increasingly heavy bag over my shoulder I headed towards the door. "Spencer?" I turned around to meet the teacher's smiling eyes.

"Sorry about almost being late. I'm norm-" Mr. Lakey held his hands up.

"Don't worry. It's the first day of school. I get mean on the second so this is like a freebee." He joked.

"Thanks." I gave him a half-hearted smile.

"Actually I was wondering if you would do me a favor?" I shifted my weight nervously to my right leg but asked what he wanted me to do. "There's a new student, Abby I believe, that will be starting school tomorrow. She's coming in after school for a tour. I offered to show her around - to be nice since none of the other teachers seemed very keen on the idea - but I have absolutely no idea where anything is. Would you be willing to show her around to her classes?"

"Um, yeah, sure." I smiled awkwardly. I didn't have anything to do after school. I can just get my mind off of everything, show the girl around, go home and then throw up my lunch. Fantastic.

"She should be here any mi- Oh! Here she is." I smiled politely and turned around.

My face fell, my heart pounded in my ears and my blood ran cold. Over two years of feeling lost, broken, and alone. I spent that time trying to forget about her, but how could I when she was in my every though and dream?

"Ashley." I choked out the one name of the girl I hadn't been able to stop thinking about for two years, three months and 19 days.


	3. Some Secrets

Thanks for the reviews and everything else. I appreciate the feedback. Keep it coming! =D

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I bit the corner of my lip until it bleed but kept my eyes steady. This wasn't how I pictured our first meeting. By the look on Ashley's face, I'm guessing it wasn't how she did either. The air became too thick to breathe catching all words in our throats. It weighed down my lungs, crushing my chest and for a split second I was worried that my legs wouldn't be able to hold up the extra weight.

A lot of people - the ones who still talk about her, well I guess that's everyone - don't know how smart she is. Ashley Davies always had a plan. And the first time I saw her without one, she holding a gun instead.

This would be the second.

"You two have met before? Fantastic!" Mr. Lakey seemed out of place. His energy was too overwhelming; there wasn't any room for that, for any happiness. I wanted to ask him to leave, but all moister had left my mouth sufficiently suffocating me. Or maybe that was just her presence that was doing that. "Right, well..." He paused for a moment, maybe finally picking up on the tension. I don't know how he could miss is. I was looking at her like she was a ghost. She had been one for over two years. A ghost. A memory. Clearing his throat, Mr. Lakey's voice once again cut through the air. "Ashley, Spencer will be showing you around. I know I offered but I'm new too so, well... yes. I guess I'll just leave it to ya." Ashley forced a smile in his direction and a soft "thank you." The sound of her voice caused an unwelcome visceral reaction. I began to feel sick again.

The psychology teacher picked up his brief case, gave me a crooked smile and thanked me. He walked past me as I rubbed my arm nervously and over to Ashley who had finally taken a step into the classroom. I found it ironic that it was a psychology teacher bring us together again. Or maybe it was God who was doing this. I needed to know who to hate, or thank, or more feasibly question the motives of.

Now that we were completely alone I desperately wanted someone else here. Anyone who could prevent us from being forced into conversation. What was there to even talk about? The truth was out of the question. Over the last two years the thought that Ashley might not even know the truth herself started to become a viable possibility.

"What are you doing here?" I tried to keep my voice steady, but it came out shaky and soft. She ran a hand through curly locks trying to maintain her composure. The light blonde streaks in her bangs had completely faded amber eyes had faded to a muddy brown. Her hair was still dark, but the curls were wilder, her hair longer. They framed her thin face which was reduced to her natural tan, the carefree beach glow only a forgotten token of who she used to be.

"I got out in August and -"

"You know that's not what I mean." It came out harsh and even I'm a little surprised. Ashley seemed taken aback too, not used to me being so forward. I took a few steps towards her while still keeping a few yards between us. Ashley is like a black hole: anything that gets too close is completely consumed by it. "Why did you come back here - to this school?"

"I..." She faltered and looked down at warn blue converse. And even though I had taken in her physical appearance - the longer hair, the thinner frame - this was the first time I had actually looked at her.. I had seen this look a total of three times in my life and it took one who really knew her to know that Ashley Davies was absolutely terrified.

I waited patiently for her to say something so I could go, or stay, or finally get one straight answer from her. Suddenly she stopped cowering by the doorway and stood to her full 5 feet, 4 inches. Her infamous facade was back and it was such a familiar mask that I hated her for pulling it on now.

"I figured," she started again, her eyes dark and flashing, "that this might not be the best idea. But what's one more mistake?" Her eyes flickered down to my necklace and she turned on her heel to leave. "I know where everything is," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. My jaw clenched painfully and whatever emotions that were raging inside me were too mixed together to sort out. Infuriation was definitely one of them though. But it didn't really matter now because Ashley was already slipping around the corner and out of sight.


	4. Noise

I'm really sorry it's been so long. I hope you guys are still reading. I know this update is kind of short but I wanted to get things started. I plan on updating more frequently. Hope you guys like it. Thanks.

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Sand started to slide into my converse, but the irritation was forgettable, as were the goosebumps cascading down my arms and legs. A jacket wouldn't have helped though. Turns out the beach wouldn't either. It was like some masochistic intervention that brought me here and no matter how hard I tried to focus on the crashing waves I could still hear her voice. It was magnified, as if she couldn't stand the thought of being wiped away by something so monotonous.

_"It can be our place."_

_"The beach? I don't think we can own the beach, Ash." A gentle smile to match gentle words._

_"Want me to buy it for you?" Eyes closed, the infamous smirk_

I'm still not sure if she was serious. As luck - fate? - would have it, she probably did buy it and I would once again be encompassed by her impulses.

_You taste even better in the sand._

I think every grain of sand could count as a memory.

_"We'll build a house one the beach and -"_

_"We'll talk walks together - hand in hand - every night!"_

_"And go skinny dipping."_

Too much. I felt like I was being buried alive. I used to love this feeling: the head rush, the sweaty palms. But it's different now. It's _so_ different now. Because I actually feel like I can't breathe, it's no longer holding-my-breath, it's that suffocating sensation again. The waves are so brutally loud I think I'm drowning. But then my eyes snap open and I remember I'm on shore. I remember _everything_ and I know I need to leave.

I'm the only one home. It's not an unlikely occurrence anymore. Two people are out and less than half of the occupants are home. I'm a less than half.

I'm not sure what I should do. Going upstairs, starting my homework, it all seems too normal, routine. This is like a nightmare and I'm the only one aware of it, but then I think that's not true. I think she's spent most of her life trying to wake up.

Could she sleep at night? Was she in a cell? I don't think she was in a cell.

I cracked the window residing above my desk open. Even inside the room everything was so gray today, but I didn't turn the light on. I didn't want to pretend. Kicking my shoes off I laid on my bed. I had to reply everything. Her walking in. Her voice. Her clothes. Her hair. Each time I thought about it, my stomach flipped and was then followed by a sense of shame. Two years blocking everything out and now I'm feeling it all at once. The choking sensation was back and before I could panic my body knew how to cure it. By autopilot my fingers reached for the cool aluminum, before I took both buds in shaking fingers, slipping them into my ears.

Hold.

Select playlist.

Play.

**I've been watching your world from afar**

**I've been trying to be where you are**

**I've been secretly falling apart, unseen**

A sigh of relief and I could focus again. I could figure out what I'm supposed to do. But I couldn't plan for the unpredictable. I couldn't plan for _her_. Absently I stroked my finger over the label. Shutting the ipod off, I tentatively sat up and laid it beside me. Rubbing my palms on my jeans I bit my lip before standing up.

The silence was worse.

My hand reached for the knob. I was shaking. The hallway was dark. Cool metal rested abruptly against my hand. I just stood there before gently opening the door, like if it made too much sound I could break something. The room was dark, black compared to the hallway and I stood almost in shock in the doorway. Time was frozen in here and if I exhaled I might ruin that. Slowly edging my way in I made sure not the shut the door completely. My feet shuffled across the carpet and I continued to hold my breathe until they caught something, a hoodie on the ground and I lurched to a stop. I didn't want to ruin anything so I needed to make sure I was focused enough to move around, so I didn't mess up again. Eventually my feet began a slow shuffle. My eyes were adjusting to the darkness and I could start to make out familiar objects, but they all felt misplaced. Trophies lined the dresser, clothes were on a desk chair. Pictures. I moved over to the bed and tied not to moved anything. I wish he could kick me out. Throw the pillow at me, miss and hit the door instead. But instead it stayed absolutely quite so I just buried my face into the edge of the pillow and cried.


End file.

South of Nowhere, Drama, Suspense