Summery: The day Jas Wood helps a victim of her Brother's lethal driving skills recover, her life changes. Not only is the victim arrogant, unbearable, and defiant…but he seems to leave a trail of mystery and intrigue where ever he goes…only apparent to Jas…and she's determined to find out why, no matter what the stakes.

Suspicions – Chapter 1: Hero to a Twit.

Life used to be simply simple.

The night, used to be the night, with a few specks of blurred light following the curve of the moon, the morning being the morning; with the flowers gently waking under the sun's resuscitating warmth.

Also, I would never, for the life of me, have even attempted to create anything resembling poetic representation.

My life is a soap, though I suppose a soap opera to be exact.

No no no, scratch that, a supernatural soap opera.

Ignoring the alliteration which flawed that thought, there is one on going theme in my life which happens to darken my every corner, tarnish my every potentially peaceful moment. 'S'. The letter 'S'. And it all started with a guy named Sash.


Stunning, Stupid, Sly, Secret.

I suppose, he himself, or it, stands out from all the rest…rules apparently are written in languages other than his…obstacles obviously disintegrate at his very breath, and words, unless punctuated with severe violence, evidently mean nothing to his feeble mind.

I'm not a soap kinda gal, I despise their daily appearance on our already tragically corrupted television timetable…but, me being the irony magnet of the world, and God being the sarcastic 'lovable' guy that he is, decided to make my very existence one bubble dominated SOAP.

My mother, being the considerate heart breaker that she was, deserted my father, my brother, and I 12 years ago. My brother being 6, myself being 5, and my father melting into a devastated puddle on the floor of our Auckland city apartment.

Gradually though, my father rebuilt his self, meekly gathered up the pieces of his torn heart, dug solemnly out of his hole of dark depression, and in the process, stumbled across his pride again. He excelled in the business in which he worked as a computer programmer, and ever so quietly, tucked the memories of his absent lover away – and in the process, distanced his own children.

My brother and I clung to each other to make up for our half existent father and our nonexistent mother…

The soap probably started right there and then, walked in the door just as my mother carelessly left.

One to replace another.


"Goooood morning good morning good mooooorrrning! Its 7:00 on this lovely spring day, the birds are chirping, the wives are nagging, and your listening tooooooo…"

With a lethal swipe, I, Jas Wood, sleeper extraordinaire, slammed my alarm clock radio before the idiot DJ over pronounced his idiot name.

Tuesday morning, second day of school for the term, and already the ritual had begun… I would attempt to, oh so eloquently, murder my alarm clock, but not before I was rudely awakened by the grating voice of the DJ, which by the way I still refused to acknowledge as human.

Reluctantly I sat up to silence, and began to drowsily survey my room's slight disarray, its CD's which shamelessly adorned the floors midnight blue, the many novels and scattered pieces of paper idly obscuring it. Managing to haul myself out of a temporary heaven, I took a reassuring glimpse at my own paintings, my own attempts at capturing the world's beauty…

The key word being 'attempts'.

Opening my bedroom door, I coerced myself out into the lounge area of my dad's cold and unwelcomingly modern apartment. The brown leather lounge suite surrounded the entertainment system, with the only touch of warmth being the single white lily that sat in a black vase on the glass coffee table…though even that looked like it was about to be engulfed by the intimidation the apartment emanated.

Who would guess a family even took one breath in its dustless interior.

I detested living here.

As I walked over to the expansive windows which held a view of the Auckland harbour any sea lover would dream of, I glimpsed my brother emerging from his own room, as ruffled and confused as ever.

"Hey," he yawned, addressing me while rubbing carelessly at his eyes.


"Coffee?" no, my brother was not asking if I would like a coffee, nor offering to make coffee - make no mistake…he is and shall always be, a lazy fool. He was more offering to allow me to make the coffee, so kind, so kind…

Switching into condescending mode, I regarded Jake with a smirk "I don't think there is any, sweetness, remember yesterday, no coffee, near car accident."

Jake Wood: older brother, life threatening chauffeur.

Sharing my chestnut hair and green eyes, our smiles holding the same arrogance according to popular opinion, we were never mistaken for anything but siblings, though our complexions completely differed; he took after mum, with olive skin, I took after dad, with pale skin.

There was quiet as he contemplated yesterdays events, and a slow dawning in his sleepy forest eyes, followed by a creeping smile. "Yeah, good times."

"I'm glad you find near death experiences entertaining," I scoffed.

"Very," he murmured, smiling.

"I'm going to have a shower to prepare for my young and tragic death," I said mildly, trailing off towards the shower.

"Tragic?" Jake questioned just before I shut the door to the bath.

I whipped my head around in time to see his lips curling into a smile, "yes tragic you moronic buffoon!"

For punctuation, I slammed the bathroom door and frowned.

It was going to be a good day.


Half an hour later, Jake and I were fighting for survival in traffic just to attend another day at that torturous hole the government preferred to call college, though Jake was obviously trying his best either to kill or traumatise me to the point of paralysis before we got there. I inhaled the fresh smell of my perfume as I sunk further and further into the torn seats of my suicidal brothers Toyota, a small white car - which, presumably because of its size, was the cause for his endless fury at all moving objects.

Obviously, size does matter.

It was, by far, the most evil car on the road, and with my brother behind the wheel, I'm sure the key to that which is the end of the world.

Escaping the insane traffic of the morning, the car squealed into a once tranquil street with quaint character houses bordering the one way road. Because it was Spring, the sky was clear, the grass was lush, and a swift cool breeze swept through the ever green trees…

An alarmingly loud thud threw me into attention.

A chill shot through my spine as I took notice of the limp body of a guy being tossed to the ground in slow motion. The thick silence ensuing was unbearable.

Nothing, no human, had ever looked so still.

I felt a cold assaulting me, blood escaping my face and hysterical screams threatening to kill the soundless atmosphere. I swallowed whatever sounds my fear had birthed within me and hurriedly followed Jake out towards the shadow on the ground.

"JAKE!" he was kneeling near the body, a slight tremble beginning in his shoulders.

"What the HELL happened? How fast were you going? Is he hurt?"

My eyes reluctantly moved from my brother, all the while praying for a scream of pain, a stream of never before heard swear words, death inducing violence from the still form on the ground "Is he… dead?" I choked the grotesque word out of my mouth, and dropped down to the ground.

The boy had a slight graze on his face, his black hair obscuring his eyes. I promptly checked for a pulse, and found one, steady if not slightly slow.

I looked at Jake to see him gazing at the boy in shock, his face pale, eyes disbelieving.

"JAKE! God, call an ambulance!" my voice was frantic, part of my hysteria released in that one sentence.

At this, the boy tilted his head towards me and grasped my hand, I gasped as he fixed me with a desperate plea from his slate grey eyes, "no…please don't," his reply was feeble, but carried a resonating sadness.

Jake picked him up and carried him to the car.


Back at the apartment, after speeding to the nearest super market to get first aid supplies and coffee, the boy lay in Jake's bed, while Jake himself was trying his hardest to keep composed….

"…god…I didn't mean…I didn't even see…no one was there…"

That was all he said, a string of words said in a broken whisper which made no sense when put in the context of our predicament. We were sitting on the couch together, drinking a much needed coffee, and trying to return our eyes to their average diameter. I put a comforting arm around his tense shoulders in an attempt to comfort him, but I may as well have been a ghost; his face was void of anything but shock, and even when he spilled his drink onto his hand he didn't flinch, he merely let it burn.

Giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze, I walked into the bathroom, and looked at myself in the mirror.

Maybe I was a ghost.

My skin was a sick shade of porcelain, my eyes looked hollow, emotionless. Shakily I splashed some cold water onto my stricken face, wishing the cold liquid to act as a reality check, maybe even wake me up from this painfully real nightmare.

After I didn't wake up, I walked into Jake's room to find the boy sitting up and looking into space. He was amazingly lucky, with his injuries being only numerous bruises which were quickly flourishing into colourful hindrances, a few deep scratches on his side, and some grazes on his face; all easily taken care of. I sat down on the bed and noted the strands of black hair which contrasted his ashen face, his eyes which held a deeper meaning…

"Are you ok?" he asked, pinching the top of his nose as though he had a headache.

Ha! Am I ok? Give me a break.

"My name is Sash," he said releasing his nose and turning his face towards me, "and what *are* you looking at me like that for, sarcasm looks far from attractive on you."

"Excuse me?!?" my felt my eyes literally bulged out of my head… Dear God…we saved a twit.

"You continue to look at me like some abnormal growth, which I think is slightly unneeded," a small smile began to spread to his face, "and now," he said in amusement, "you seem to be looking at me with a mildly insane glint…I must remind you that I have already been subjected to enough of your family's violence today. If anything, I should be hurting you." His outburst ended with a slight smirk, no doubt at my expression of unrestrained disbelief and anger.

"You are incredibly annoying for a bed ridden victim," I explained in a new kind of awe, "and what kind of name is Sash? It sounds hilariously like the type of name you would call a dog…or a fish maybe," I paused to raise one finger to my chin, tapping it slightly and looking sky ward in a mock pondering. "Taking into consideration your character, it seems quite fitting; you both open your mouth incessantly, and most unnecessarily." I fixed his face with a glare, after all, who was the most able bodied here?

I believe it is moi.

"Oh yes," he spat with a look of disgust to replace his infuriating smirk "And what might your name be?"

"Jas," I said bitterly despite his demanding tone, a strong disliking for the sardonic stranger growing at phenomenal rates.

"Have you noticed that if you take off the J sound, it makes a completely different word which I think describes every aspect of your being quite nicely?" he questioned somewhat smugly. "'Tis such a pleasure to meet you…Ass," mock injured the very meaning of politeness in his sentence; the 'Ass' comment expertly finishing the job by cutting its very essence into bite sized pieces.

I stormed towards the door in complete abhorrence, to myself, and towards him. I just helped save the most unbearable idiot this world has ever allowed to walk.

Though I did almost witness his death.

My single solace.

"I always hated fish," I retorted, slamming the door behind my fuming figure, my fury once again half directed towards myself – this time for the death worthy come back.

I have never loathed fish so much I thought as the strong disliking bloomed into full fledged hate.


Ah! Story! Any comments are adored, especially constructive criticism :)