',0 Introduction 0,'

So here I am, writing in my journal. Thinking about him once more... About, everything he and I could have been. If I had sacrificed a little more, if he had at all. So many 'ifs I hads' and 'if onlys'. Let's Make Love is playing the background, once I used to think that was our theme song. Perfect for him and I. The way we felt about each other, I wanted to feel him in my soul. Wanted eternity with him.

But in truth, it was only heartbreak. Sleeping With Lions is our theme I see that now. I can sum it up perfectly in the lines: "But it hurts too much to see you doing your midnight creep. Someone hurts you, so you're hurting me."

Strange how naïveté does that to you, you know? You believe you'll be the one to change him. To teach him what real love is, what's its like to care for someone. Until you realize.. Way too late, that he'll never change. He already knows how to love. He already knows what it's like to care for someone. And he just doesn't care. But by then, it's too late. Far too late, and he's got you wrapped around his little finger. And can make you lick his feet if he asked you to, and told you, 'I'd love you, if you liked my foot.'

Anything he said with, 'I'd love you if..' Attached to it, you'd do in a heart beat. You'd do it with a smile and an eagerness to please. Even when you know he's lying, and he won't truly love you. He'll only use you more, and exploit you more. Until one day you realize he doesn't love you at all. And never will he only possesses you. I found that out. And in that moment, I decided it was best to be possessed. Instead of alone, at least it was something.

A chill ran down her spine as she curled up on her bed, reading over her grandmother's journal. Granma Caili had past away five days ago; the agony of her favorite relative dying was still clenched around her heart. Rory's dark blue eyes closed for a moment and she let out a little sigh. Murmuring softly, "Poor Caili.."

But still she didn't think she was reading about her grandfather. He was too kind. To gentle to be the man her grandmother was writing about. A hand would reach up brush back dark raven colored curls that hung in her face. Her teeth would nibble on her lower lips for a moment. Her fingers curled around the old yellowing paper about to turn the page when the phone beside her rang shrilly.

A scream of startlement escaped Rory's lips as her hands dropped the journal into her lap and jerked the phone off of its cradle. Her eyes wide as she'd ask in a breathless voice, "What?"

"You sound startled, did the big bad phone scare you babe?" An amused male voice would ask over the phone. It was apparent he was amused by the high pitch of her voice, the way her heart was beating so fast she couldn't catch her breath.

Rory's heart lurched the moment he spoke. She'd slide the phone away from her ear and pressed it to her chest. Letting out a soft almost inaudible moan of annoyance, sorrow, frustration, and hope all mixed into one little sound. Taking several deep breaths she'd slowly bring the phone back up to her ear. And she would reply, "Of course it didn't scare me."

The laughter filled her phone again. He always did know when she was lying. And she cursed herself for not being truthful with him. Now he was just going to tease her and mock her for it. He always mocked her mercilessly whenever she tried to hide something. Like being startled. His voice was soft, though crackling with barely concealed laughter, "You are such a bad liar, Rore. You really should stop trying to lie to me. You know I can tell when you're lying. Your voice drops two octaves when you do it."

"You're just making that up to get me to admit that I'm lying." Aurore would shoot back at him through the phone. She was scowling now, because it was true. Her voice did get deeper when she lied. It was because she tried so hard to not let her voice go higher. It had just become a natural habit over the years. And he knew it. She'd give a sigh and then she'd lift a hand through her hair. Letting him finish with his laughing before she'd speak again, "Alright, fine. The phone startled me. I was.. Reading Granma's journal."

"Speaking of Granma, I'll be up in a couple of days to help arrange the funeral." There was a pause. Something close to gentleness bleeding into his voice with his next words, "You going to be able to hold up until then? I know, she raised you after your parents died.."

"She practically raised you too, Jon." Aurore would reply. Her teeth pulling at her lower lip once more. The raven-haired woman would nod a couple of times before realizing he couldn't see her. Another sigh would escape her lips. They had known each other since they were little. Her parents died when she was two, his were never around. So Caili raised them both. Tears started to well up in Rory's eyes and she'd whisper in a choked voice, "I'll be fine.. Thanks, you know.. For everything."

There was another silence on the line. The sounds of Jon moving around glass clinking for a moment. The sound of his squeaky fridge closing. And then a soft whisper, "I miss her too, Aurore.. I'll be there soon."

Click.

Three days later, and she hadn't had time to read any more of Caili's journal. There were items to arrange. To sort through, and box up. Family members to call, people to inform. And a garage that needed to be cleaned so bad. It stunk of cat piss, and crap. Rory didn't think that Caili had cleaned it since she moved into the house.. Which had been when the woman was born. The three-story mansion had been in the family for ages, ever since the family came over from France.

So Rory was now dressed in a pair of old coveralls. Her jet back curls pulled back into a strict bun, she wouldn't let her rebellious hair get dirty this evening. She set up her portable music player onto the nearest clean surface she could find. The light streamed in through the dirty, broken, and grime covered windows. She gave a sigh as she looked around for a light switch. Finally finding a pull string for a light.

You see, Aurore Pettit is a very short woman. She barely reaches a good five-foot tall. Unfortunately for the very small woman of a good twenty-one, the ceiling in the garage is at least seven to ten feet high. Rory is also not the most wise of women, so instead of attempting to find a latter to climb on. She decided to grab an old chair from the stack of them in the corner. Step on it and reach as far as she could upward to turn it on. But still her fingers just skimmed the string. Once more, unwisely her solution was not a latter. No her solution was to step onto the back of the chair and reach upward. Her fingers would grab a hold of the pull string. And jerk it downward. Light would come flooding into the room. And with a cheer of victory the woman would let go of the string. She would then go to step off the back of the chair and then promptly lose her balance. The chair would rock, and time seemed to slow to a complete crawl. As the chair would go forward, and her body backward. Crashing down onto the ground with a scream.

Yes, it would be quite a sight. Her arms flailing for anything to grab onto, but there was nothing. And with a snapping sound, the chair would break. And her body would bend over the seat of it and her yelp of pain would fill the air. Mixing with the song playing on her portable music station. The pain in her back was bad, very bad. Nor did she feel like moving, so she told herself she'd get up in a few minutes. Even if the ground she was laying on, well partially lying on was wet. And smelt suspiciously like cat piss. Still she'd get up in a moment. A rest was needed for the moment. The dull ache in her back would need time to go away. And then..

"That was graceful." Came a mocking voice, from the entrance to the garage. Blue eyes would snap open and turn to find him laughing at her with his mouth. That mocking smirk and teasing gleam in his eyes. And then he would be moving toward her. Casually dodging debris and junk that had cluttered up over the years. His hand would be held out toward her and then help her up slowly.

Aurore let out a little whimper. One small hand going to the middle of her back, good lord it hurt. Why did she have to go and do something so stupid? Don't answer that. Blue eyes would stare up at Jon. His own golden ones held a dark expression, something she couldn't read. Something she didn't understand, it was one he always got whenever she hurt herself. Probably angry with me for being reckless.. He always gets that look, like he's disappointed and angry with me.. Rory would think to herself. But she didn't say anything, she wouldn't apologize because of an accident. She had done that once, it had ended with him shouting at her for being stupid.

The last thing Ms. Pettit needed at the moment was another lecture on how stupid she was. She slowly started to edge around him; the intensity of his angry gaze started to unnerve her. But his fingers would girl around her denim-covered arm, and pull her toward him suddenly. Their bodies would press together. And her hands would instinctively press against his chest, fighting with him. Trying to get away from him, fear clear all over her face.

Then as abruptly as he drew her near he pushed her away. Causing her to fall to the ground once more. Turning around from her, not even checking to see if she was alright. His voice cold as he'd mutter, "Christ A, act like I'm trying to molest you why don't you? I was just fucking checking on you."

"N-no.. I just didn't want you to get covered in cat piss, Jay.. S'all.." But he was walking away even as she stuttered out the lie. She knew it was a lie, he knew it was a lie. It wasn't even a white lie. It was an outright lie. She was afraid of him, and she had been for a very long time. She loved him, but she was frightened to the bone of him. At least whenever he tried to get physical with her. When he staid out of her space, she was fine. But his form was retreating now. And she sighed. Her hands would plant themselves onto the ground. Promptly splashing into puddles of cat piss. A grimace would form over her face even as she pushed herself upward. Muttering to herself, "Great.. Fall down and break my back. Land in cat piss. Piss off Jonithan. And then put my hands in more cat piss.. Just great. I can tell today is going to be so much fun."

"Joooooooooni-poooo!" Came the loudest, shrillest, most nerve-wracking voice Aurore had ever had the displeasure to hear. She winced all over, and a cold chill ran down her spine. God, not her. Please, let her be hearing things. Rory really didn't want to deal with her. She was the most obnoxious person throughout high school. And then through college, and now in their careers. But no luck, the voice cam again. Louder this time, that meant it was closer. And it was saying, "Where is that lovely little sister of yours?"

Silence.

And then, "She's not my sister."

The dull thud of her body slamming against the side of the wall went unnoticed by the two people talking around the corner. She could see it perfectly in her mind the way they were talking. Jonithan would be leaning back in his chair; Cherise would be sitting in his lap. Just like in high school. Her fingers fiddling with his shirt, her body pressed against his seductively. And he would let her do it, he'd even respond to her. Even though he used to swear to Rory that he had no interest the annoying girl.

Aurore's arms would wrap around her bare shoulders, her throat swallowing back the tears that were burning in her throat. The words, 'She's not my sister', burning through her mind. That was the only thing they had left, to consider each other family. And now he was denying it. She bit back the sob before it could escape her lips. Her fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her shoulders. Her eyes closed tightly, jaw clenched. Teeth biting down into her lower lip until blood started to trickle down her chin. But the pain she was putting her body through was nothing compared to the pain she was feeling in her soul. She'd push herself away from the wall, and hurry away. Back toward the front door. She didn't want to listen to them talk. Rory needed to be alone.

She never heard the rest of the conversation.

"Don't ever let her hear you say that, Joni." Cherise would say as she'd sip her chocolate latte. She was sitting in a chair across from Jonithan. Her large doe like brown eyes watching the man in front of her. Finger idly fiddling with the diamond engagement ring on her finger. She hadn't informed her long time best friend, Aurore Pettit. Oh, Cherise was aware that Rory believed she couldn't stand Cherise. But the woman knew that without her, Aurore would be lost. Would have no drive, she was needed. Cherry had to be the bad guy. She gave a bit of a sigh, as she thought about the past for a bit. In high school, she had tried to get Rory to admit how she felt for Jonithan by flirting with the guy. But it had backfired. The petite woman had only drawn away from the two of them even more. She'd lean forward now, and look seriously at the man in front of her. Her voice firm as she would say, "Rory likes to think that she doesn't talk to me, but she does. I've known the two of you since we were tots. I know she loves you, but she thinks all you can have is kinship. She ever hears you say that you're not her family. And she'll freak, Jon. I'm serious."

The blonde man with give a bit of a snort and sip his beer. His attention would drift back toward the patio. Wondering where the woman in question was at right now. Probably pouring over their Granma Caili's things. Family would be showing up in about a month for the funeral. A quick shake of his head and then his slightly amused voice would say, "I love her, you know that. But she wouldn't fit in my life.. She's the kind of woman you treasure. Or you treat like dirt. Because she'll let you, and she'll do it with a smile.."

"And you think you're not good enough for her." Cherise would reply, flipping her red hair over her shoulder. Her eyes would close, as she'd give a sigh. Sadly, she knew it was true. Jonithan wasn't the kind of guy you dated. You fucked him, and then you ran in the morning. But you never dated, and you never loved. It just wasn't a wise decision, to love him. Even when he loved someone… It would never work, he was too set in his ways. He would take advantage of Rory and she'd let him do it. The redhead's heart went out to her best friends. But she knew that if they ever got together. He'd break her heart, and destroy her. However, she had pledged to stay out of it after high school had backfired.

Jonithan's shoulders would lift up in a shrug, his beer would swish in its bottle with a small shake of his hand. And then he'd glance toward the house once more saying,
"If knowing, I'd just walk all over her is thinking I'm not good enough for her. Then yeah, I think I'm not good enough. No, not think. I know I'm not good enough. I like women, but I don't love them. I love my job, and someday my family. Rory's kids. But I don't have love in me for a wife. And that's what Rory'd have to be… I couldn't stand destroying her, the way that scumbag did when he cheated on her. And you know, I would."

Cherise's only answer would be to lift her shoulders in a shrug. The woman's attention turning toward the patio as well, watching the door. As if she was waiting for Rory to come out of the door. But she knew she wasn't going to. It was just her and Jonithan for now, and they started to talk about Granma Caili. Everyone's favorite voodoo priestess.

"I drift away to a place, another kind of life. Take away the pain, I create my paradise..."

Rory was busy doing what she always did when she was upset. She had the music up as loud as she could do it. Playing music that was two generations old, her grandmother's music. Stuff that no one but she listened to these days. And she was drawing, her hands making angry strokes across the paper. Moving the pencil over it as a face started to appear on the page. She was doing her best to keep her mind off of Jonithan, off of Cherise. Off of seeing them kissing when she was sixteen.

It was five years ago, but still it hurt like a knife. Whenever they were in the same room together, it was like someone twisting a dagger into the old wound, reopening it. And pouring salt over it. Her eyes closed tightly as if doing so could banish the image from her mind. But it was burned on the back of her eyelids. It was there and it would be forever. And she knew it, it was never leave her alone.

"Everything I felt was against the wall. What was yours isn't yours at all.."

A soft rapping sound caught her attention, and her spine stiffened. The smell of Cherise's perfume filled the air behind her and she sensed the movements of someone walking into the room. Quickly she lifted up her hands and wiped away her tears. Her voice calm and she'd speak over the music, "Go away."

"Now, is that any way to treat a friend who is just worried about you?" Would come a masculine voice. This was definitely not Cherise, and she'd jerk around to see the only person who had comforted her in High school. When she was crying over Cherise and Jonithan. Edger had held her and smoothed her hair from her face. They still lived in the same town, but they never spoke anymore. He was a big bad lawyer now. And she was busy with graphic design. She'd hop up from her chair suddenly, dumping her sketching materials all over the ground, to fling herself at Edger. Wrapping her arms around his neck and cling onto him tightly. Whimpering softly even as he'd speak again, "C'mon petit calm down. I know you miss Madame Caili, and Joni's drivin' you nuts. 'Swell as Cherise. But Edger is here now, and we'll get through it alright?"

She'd nod several times, letting him rock her back and forth. Smoothing her hair from her forehead. Framing her face with his hands, he'd kiss her forehead softly and then her nose. And then pull her back close to him and give her another hug. It was completely platonic. Edger and Rory could shower together and neither one would get hot and bothered. They were practically related by blood, even closer then anyone else. The only one that truly understood Rory, at least that's what the woman liked to think.

But something was nagging at the back of her brain as she slowly pulled away from him. Only to lean her nose forward and sniff the air around him. Leaning down into his neck, and inhaling sharply. Only to turn around and sneeze hard. Sending the man into fits of laughter over it. Patting her on the back and comforting her over it. Only to get a hard stare from the blue eyed woman. Aurore's voice would be firm as she would say, "Now, Edger. Never in my life have I ever known you to wear cheap perfume. So…"

"Why do I smell like Cherise?" He finished for her, chuckling softly. He would take one of her hands in his own. Leading her over to the couch and making her sit down with him. Less likely for her to be able to kick him that way. Well, at least not in any important areas. With a soft smile he would say, "Now, I know you and your beau will probably never get to over yourselves. But Cherise have been seeing each other discreetly for a couple of years now, and I asked her to marry me."

"Falling apart and all I'm asking.. Is it a crime, am I over reacting?"