``all I can do is Keep Breathing {Ty}

[Caliste Marionette]

Two weeks since Ty had turned up at her motel room. Two weeks since she had heard her father's proposal and had more or less told Ty that his dad could shove it up his ass. Two weeks since she had ended up taking back those works for the sake of her grandmother. Two weeks since she had ended up caving to Pierre Castelle's demands and had packed her bags. Two weeks since she had left the motel and once again found herself outside of Ty's front door. Two weeks since she had moved in with him. Two weeks of living under the same roof with a man who detested her and the feeling was indeed more than mutual on her part as well. Two weeks of enduring snide remarks meant to question her intelligence, morals and socialization. Two weeks of blatant insults. Two weeks of a new ridiculous rule being added to the list of practically ever day. Two weeks of biting her tongue and literally drawing blood. Two weeks of an ever mounting and overwhelming urge to scream. Two weeks of face offs. Two weeks of butting heads. Two weeks of impasses. Two weeks of yearning for a cramped, roach infested motel room instead of this. Two weeks of reminding herself more than a dozen times a day that it was all for her grandmother. Two weeks of daily calls to Paris to get updates on her grandmother. Two weeks of hoping and praying for a miracle. Two weeks of hating that she couldn't have provided this new chance for her grandmother on her own without the Castelle's help.

Caliste was sitting on the plush leather sofa in the living room of Ty's loft; he never let her forget that she was staying in his home, just last night she had been given another rule to follow while she stayed there. The young woman was pretty sure that Rule #15 was for her not to put her feet up in the couches so of course she had done just the opposite. Her long, jeans-clad legs curled up underneath her as she busily typed away on her laptop. Callie had also been told about moving the furniture so it was only natural that she had pulled the center table closer to the couch so that she could rest her mug of steaming hot cocoa on it in direct and blatant defiance of Rule #9.

She knew that when Ty saw her she would get it but she was a girl who liked to see how far she good go. Instead of toeing the line she tried to see how far she could push it. In truth and fact these small acts of utter defiance were the only things that were keeping her sane and helping her to face the next day. For someone who liked or rather absolutely loved her freedom and independence; being not only dependent on someone else but also having to adhere to their rules and restrictions was like being smothered, unable to breathe. The situation was hell for her and yet she endured for the sake of her grandmother. Even the slightest bit of improvement in her grandmother's condition would be worth it all.

Caliste picked up the mug and drained the last of her cocoa before putting her laptop aside and heading for the kitchen to get some more. As she walked down the hall she felt her cell begin to vibrate and then ring. She stopped to fish it out of her pocket and answered

"Salut." Caliste said into the phone

"Bonne nuit. Il s'agit d'infirmière McKensie. Je vous appelle pour Mme Caliste Marionette en ce qui concerne sa grand-mère."

"Hey Nurse McKensie." she greeted the woman brightly, speaking in French, "How's my grandmother doing? That new medication has been a god send, hasn't it. I was going to call you in an hour or so to get an update but its all the same that you called early there is actually something that I wanted to discuss with you. You see my birthday is in two days and I was thinking of coming down for a visit. As you know its been a while since I saw her and maybe with these new meds seeing me might jog her memory. I just wanted your opinion on if that would be okay. It really would be lovely to see her after all this time. As long as its okay I can make the arrangements to fly down right now. So what do you thi....."

"Ms. Marionette!" the woman said loudly, interrupting Caliste's speech.

"Yes?" Caliste answered, slightly shocked at the woman's uncharacteristic abruptness and borderline rudeness.

"Ms. Marionette," the nurse continued, "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

The happy, excited mood that Caliste had been in vanished in an instant and she had to force herself to take deep breaths even as she felt her heart rate beginning to speed up.

"Ms. Marionette?" the woman asked after the long pause. "Ms, Marionette are you there?"

"Yes." she said finally, "What is it? What has happened to my grand-mère?"

"I'm very sorry to have to tell you this but I'm afraid that your grand-mère passed away a couple minutes ago."

Caliste froze at those incomprehensible, impossible words unable to move or speak. The mug in her hand slipped from her hand and smashed when it hit the floor, one of the tiny shards cut her leg but she didn't feel it. The nurse continued speaking, explaining what had happened but she didn't hear any of it.

"...your grand-mère passed away a couple minutes ago."

Utter silence reigned as those words resounded in her head over and over again though she still couldn't make sense of it. She had been doing better, hadn't she? The new medication had been helping, hadn't it. There had been an improvement in her condition, a very slight improvement but still it was something; it was more than what the old meds had done.

"Ms. Marionette?" the nursed called realising that she hadn't gotten a response. "Ms. Marionette are you there? Caliste?"

Some part of her brain registered that the nurse was calling her name over and over again through the phone after a few minutes but she couldn't respond. It was as if her brain had disconnected from her body. The phone slipped from her slack grip and crashed to the floor while Caliste continued to blankly stare ahead of her, locked in a trance of shock and disbelief.

"Ms. Marionette?" the woman's voice came through the phone that lay on the floor admist the broken glass.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Salut..........Bonne nuit. Il s'agit d'infirmière McKensie. Je vous appelle pour Mme Caliste Marionette en ce qui concerne sa grand-mère.
=
English Translation: Hello..........Good Night. This is Nurse McKensie. I'm calling for Ms. Caliste Marionette in regards to her grandmother.

[Tyson Castelle]

&&&

His entire body ached and it ached so badly. He would not attempt to roll over and get out of bed again because it hurt too damn much but sometime in the early hours of the day, he forced himself to his feet and headed into the joint bathroom, took a few pills and went back to his bed. 6 am came and he felt not one bit better but he still got up, showered, dressed as slowly as possible then made the commute to the University by car. Usually he would walk but that day was not a good day for walking, even if the weather was picture perfect. During the school day he went to the first two classes but discomfort led to him ditching three afternoon classes to sleep off the misery and pain in the school’s infirmary and by the time his fourth afternoon class had come around, he was much better. The nurse had given him something to take…and after a glance at her as she walked away, he hit the pillow, and he was thankful for it. He got up off the bed, grabbed his backpack; stole a glance at the nurse then headed off to class, knowing that he had much to make up for.

When his last class ended at 5pm, he called for his driver. Yeah, he usually walked back home too but he was eager to get home and working on his assignment and on finding out how much he had missed while sleeping off the fever of sorts. So he stood, he waited and when the car came around, he got into the back and relaxed on the ride back and by the time the car came to a halt in front of his loft, he was feeling like fifty million bucks, freshly printed and waiting for a wealthy woman to go wild. He closed the door, watched the car off then headed for the door. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his keys and let himself in. For a moment he stood on the threshold, his hand still clutching the door handle; listening for any sounds of her. But there were none. None came and he was thankful for that because it meant that he could clean up his home and get some homework done without having to know she was in the same room, far less on the same street at the present point in time.

Feeling confidently reassured, he closed and locked the door and left his bag by the staircase with his shoes and socks as he headed for the kitchen. Passing the living room, he threw his keys onto the couch and then hearing it hit something solid. Odd. Curiosity called him over and he took notice of the laptop on his couch…and the coffee table pulled away from where he put it and he was not going to go through this again after today. He closed her laptop and set it down on the floor, he pushed the table back to its rightful position and he continued onward into the kitchen. He did not believe in karma. He really did not, but she was making him a stronger believer by the second. The second he entered the kitchen, his bare foot stepped onto a piece of the mug that had fallen. One of his mugs. His teeth clenched, he seethed and pulled his leg up, standing on his heel, trying to avoid the cut he knew had to be deep enough to swim in.

It was then that he took notice of scene that stood in his kitchen, surrounded by the fragments of a broken mug, a cut that bled out, her cell phone on the floor then there was Caliste…petrified at something he could care neither head nor tails about. His day started out like shit, it got loads better and it was fitting it would end up like shit thanks to her. He looked at her with pure hatred then turned and limped his way from the kitchen toward the downstairs bathroom to look for surgical alcohol, cotton swabs and a plaster.

[Caliste Marionette]

The room was quiet now, still and quiet. The nurse seemed to have finally given up and had ended the call so the sound of Caliste's name being repeatedly called almost yelled no longer disrupted the silence. She just continued to stand there, not moving or even breathing. She saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing; it was as if her senses had died too. Caliste was broken; shattered; trapped within her own body in a perpetual state of shock that gave no indication of ending any time soon and she didn't want it too. The numbness that was absolute in every way was holding the pain that she knew was waiting just below the surface at bay and that was fine with her. She wouldn't, couldn't, refused to bear that soul-wrenching all-consuming pain. It was too much.

Her grandmother was the last thing she had had and now she was gone too, just like her mother had gone before she even got to meet her. Even though Adélaïde Marionette may not have been physically there, Caliste had always felt that they were still connected in some small way and now that connection was gone too. She had nothing left. She was alone.

The cell rang. Once. Twice. On the third ring Caliste finally moved looking down at the lit screen; it was the home again. A few seconds passed before she felt the tear that was already halfway down her cheek. She raised her hand and touched it with her fingertips, looking at it in almost shock. She felt the protective wall that she had built around her heart...crack and a little of the pain she knew was waiting began to seep through.

'No.' she thought, 'No.'

"No." she whispered, letting out the breath that she hadn't even realized she had been holding. "No." she said again, slightly louder as she fiercely wiped her eyes to stop any other unbidden tears that were waiting to be shed. "No!"

It was as if still partially in a daze that Caliste turned and walked away, leaving the ringing cell phone on the floor. Her body was on autopilot as she removed her coat and handbag from the peg on which they hung and put them on. She didn't know where she was going nor did she care as she went out the front door not even bothering to close it behind her. She didn't think as she walked to the corner of the street and stuck out her hand to hail a cab. What she did know was that she wasn't allowing that crack to get any further. The numbness that had blanketed her from the moment those dreadful words were spoken was now her sanctuary; she craved and needed it but she knew that it wouldn't last; it had already started to fade but she knew what could and would take its place. She knew what would do more than hold the pain at bay but would make it disappear altogether. She didn't care what she had to do but she sure as hell wasn't going through anymore pain. She had had more than her fair share and then some.

"Downtown please." she told the waiting cabdriver.

[Tyson Castelle]

&&&

He limped his way toward the bathroom while thinking up the most unkind things to say to her and the most cruel forms of punish he could possibly administer unto her without any feelings of regret or remorse. She was just another annoying little girl with butter fingers, a mouth that shot off like a fire alarm being pulled repeatedly and her attitude? Sometimes he had to urge to just break her nose and crack a few of her ribs just so she could get the damn message. He was not going to tolerate any bullshit, especially hers, so long as she lived in his home and lived off his family. Damn! She was so lucky he managed to stay on a tolerable level with her for this long. Two weeks. Two really long weeks. And what did he have to show for doing his father a favour…limping toward the bathroom, his foot bleeding and leaving a trail of blood drops that he would end up cleaning sometime after. Some reward. Honestly, he deserved better than this…selfish? Hell yes it was and he did not care one bit.

When he reached the door, he pushed it back so forcefully it banged a tad too loudly against the wall and even rebounded some before he pushed it back until it moved no more. He limped over to the cabinet, took out the cotton swabs and the alcohol and the first aid kit then sat himself down on the toilet and got to cleaning the wound that still had bits of the mug still in it. He really did not know he stepped on it to the point that it cracked; taking some with him as he went but whatever, the pieces were out and in the trash bin and he was smoothing out the tan coloured plaster on his sole. He gently set the foot down off his knew and purposely pressed it down on the tiled floor to see if his bit of crude medical work had done the trick. He winced a bit but it did the trick…for the most part at least.

He sat back for a second and looked around the bright, white and blue room and began to wonder why he was relazing in a bathroom. Despite that it was his…and clean, it wasn’t his most ideal spot; so he got to his feet, careful to keep off the newly treated wound and limped over to the counter and glanced at his reflection and for that moment his mind was completely on how tired and miserable he looked thanks to her but his attention was pulled when he heard her voice. She said something, she said “No”…but why did she say that? He limped toward the bathroom threshold, his hands holding onto the frame for support, and watched as Caliste left; leaving behind that cell phone…and it was ringing. Now he knew Caliste for two long weeks…two long ass weeks, and he knew that she would not part with her cell phone, especially since it was the medium through which she could catch up on her grandmother’s status. So why did she leave it…better yet, why was it on the floor? And why didn’t she clean up the mess, did she really want him to step on another piece?

He turned off the bathroom light and limped his way back into the kitchen. Stepping gingerly to evade the minute pieces of the mug still lying around, he made his way over to, and picked up the cell phone and it was still ringing. One touch told him who it was on the dialling end; so without much to fear, he answered the phone as he made his way from the kitchen and into the living room. “Hello good evening…this is Caliste Marionette’s phone, may I ask who is calling?” He answered, trying to make this sort of thing seem normal…casual even.

“Good evening.” Versed the nurse in French. “May I speak to Ms. Marionette please…tell her it concerns her grandmother.”

“She is not in right now but I’m sure I can pass along whatever message you wish to send her.”

“Are you a relative? I’m sorry but if you are not related I must insist on speaking with Ms. Marionette, can you please tell her to call the- ”

“I’m her brother, so I’m more than qualified to carry the message.” He said, and he immediately regretted it. He may have been imagining things but he could have sworn that his tongue wanted to close his throat…could you blame it really?

“…Just tell her that she needs to call us. Funeral preparations have to be put into motion.”

With that, the nurse hung up. Ty closed the phone and glanced toward the front door. For the first time he felt sympathy for Caliste. For the first time, he thought of her in a light different to usual and it annoyed him but then, at the same time…he felt for her. Not pity, not much at least…he just felt for her.

[Caliste Marionette]

Caliste was pressed up against a wall, one hand was holding an empty beer bottle while the other was wrapped around the neck of the man who had his tongue down her throat. She was piss drunk and having fun.

"Down tiger." she said as she ended their lip lock when his hand snaked a little too high up her skirt, "I'm not drunk enough for that just yet." she continued with a smile, "All in good time baby."

She kissed him once more and then pushed him up off of her to go and get a fresh drink. She stumbled out of the poorly lit corridor and back into the main area of the club. She wound her way through the people that were dancing to the pounding beat of the music. It took her five minutes to push her way through the crowd of bodies and get to the other side.

"Hit me." she said to the man behind the bar as she sank onto the stool.

Caliste downed the shot and called for another, then another, then another. Twelve shot glasses now sat before her and her head was swimming.

"Hitting it a little hard there, aren't you?" someone said from behind her.

She spun on the stool to see who had spoken. It took her a couple seconds to get her eyes to focus and stop the room was spinning, when it did she saw that a young man was standing there, beer in hand as it smiled down at her.

"Well hey there stranger." Caliste said as she leaned back against the bar and returned his smile.

"Stranger?" the man replied taking the seat next to her, "Hmm, well we can always fix that. You in?"

Caliste reached back and took the clip out of her hair shaking out her blonde tresses as she turned to face the guy. She looked him over once and then reached over and grabbed the glass he was offering her finishing off the beer inside. She stood and grabbed her jacket.

"Yeah, I'm in." she said standing and putting on her coat. "But lets go somewhere a bit more quiet."

She was always headed towards the door so she didn't see when the guy slipped a small plastic bag of white powder that had been hidden up his sleeve back into his pocket. She also was unaware of the thumbs up that he gave another guy that had watched the whole thing.

~Fast Forward~

It had taken her longer than it should have but Caliste finally got the door unlocked, nearly falling over as it swung open. She stumbled inside, barely managing to keep her balance as she closed the door behind her. Her torn jacket was wrapped around her waist to hide the fact that the button and zip of her skirt had been ripped open. The jacket was the only thing that was keeping her skirt up. One of the straps of her shirt had been torn down and they were scratch marks on her exposed shoulder.

Her head was pounding, she couldn't see straight anymore. Everything was a haze. A cry of pain escaped her lips as a particularly painful throb went through her head. The pain was horrible to the point of nausea. Caliste had been sick before but nothing compared to this, nothing even came close not even appendicitis. Her knees were about to give out so she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, panting.

"Ahh!" she cried out, wincing in pain. She didn't see the crack that appeared in the wall behind her head as she screamed.

When the pain had subsided a little she pushed herself up from the wall and forced herself to move. She instantly regretted that decision and wound up falling to her knees. The glass of the mirror near the front door shattered before the frame itself crashed to the floor. She retched before collapsing onto the floor completely panting. She screamed as waves of pain crashed through her head; blood began to flow from her nose. The leather of the couch ripped; chairs splintered and broke; lamps cracked; the carpet on the stairs ripped; wallpaper tore; cracks appeared in the plaster of the walls, pieces of it even falling to the floor; the wood beams in the roof cracked. Through all of this she screamed, oblivious to it all.

A couple minutes passed and Caliste lay panting on the floor; she rolled on over to her side, biting her lip to prevent herself from screaming again. She grasped at the wall as she tried to pull herself up into a standing position. She felt weak and feverish; her body seemed unable to bear its own weight. Her vision was swimming, everything was hazy. Caliste couldn't tell you up from down in that moment. With a great deal of gritting of teeth and painstaking effort, she finally managed to stand again.

'My room.' she thought desperately as she leaned up against the wall, 'I just need to get to my room.'

Each step required everything she had just to make it; the staircase seemed to be a hundred miles away and getting further rather than closer. It seemed to be an eternity before she reached the staircase and grabbed the banister for support. Just as she put her foot on the first step the worst wave of unimaginable pain yet hit her. She never even got the chance to scream; everything went black and she collapsed. She was out before she even hit the floor.

[Tyson Castelle]

&&&

He was startled when he heard the sound of glass breaking. He glanced about his dark room, looking for something with a good heft to use as a solid weapon but he quickly realized that it could not have been a burglar. He was not being arrogant; he was being practical because he just knew that it was not a burglar because no self-sustaining thief would cause the world of noise that Caliste Marionette was single0handedly causing downstairs and at three in the morning. Was she really serious? Well, not only would she had to pay for what she broke before she left and on return, but she was going to understand that this bullshit she tossed around, he was not going to have it and for nothing. In just a pair of boxers and without a care, he climbed out of bed and started to walk over to his bedroom door but he was brought to a halt when he heard noises that made his eyes flared. Based on what he heard, he imagined that a horde of pillagers had found their way in and were trashing the place like drunken Vikings of old… so what was she doing downstairs? It had to be here, let it be known that he had ways of knowing when unwanted people were in his home.

He walked opened his bedroom door and was heading for the stairs and when he got to the top, well, he wished he was a sound sleeper. At the foot of the stairs was the unconscious form of Caliste, but more importantly, he noticed the large pieces of wood about her. He descended the oddly shaky stairs, stepped over Caliste and looked at his ruined living room. The chairs…almost everything looked as if they had been torn to shreds. Did he miss something? Did a beast sneak its way in, attach Caliste and for fun tear his loft apart? His hardwood floors were ruined…the couch was torn beyond mend and the chairs in the joint dining room were piles of splinters along with the dining table and likewise for the coffee table Caliste had a habit of putting her feet on. His loft was in shambles and he was not smiling about it and what was worse, that…that girl…she was not even awake to hear it.

With the deepest reluctance, he walked over to Caliste, easily picked her up then carried her up the stairs with some added struggle later on. She was not as thin as she appeared. Often, he’d imagine himself throwing her to China as a paper aeroplane. Dreams. Sad they did not all come true. When he reached the top of the stairs, he adjusted the heavy cargo until he was comfortable then he continued on up until he set the girl down on her bed and looked down at her for a moment. It was sad for him to think that he actually had sympathy for her. One thing was for sure, he would give her his condolences, but that was it. She deserved no more. With that in mind, he turned and left her room and headed back to his. He pulled out his laptop, started it up and with some help, he was checking his security feed and what he saw…well, wow. He watched it over and over again…the good parts though, not the pathetic, drunk parts, but those good parts inspired him to pick up his cell phone and dial his dad at 3:30 in the morning.

[Caliste Marionette]

~Fast Forward~

A groan escaped her lips as she began to come to. She opened her eyes only to quickly reclose them at the blinding light. Her head felt like if it had been bashed into a wall; it was definitely the worst headache she had ever had although it didn't come close to the pain of last night. Callie raised her arm to shield her eyes from the light, pain shooting through it as she did so. She lay there for at least five more minutes before she made to move. Her body felt incredibly weak and stiff, not to mention sore. It felt like if she had just recovered from a horrible bout of the flu. As she slowly, painfully climbed out of bed she looked at the bedside clock and saw that it was 4 p.m. in the evening of the next day. She had been sleeping for over 12 hours. Caliste winced as she stood and looked around her room as something occurred to her.

'How'd I get up here?' she thought. The last thing she remembered was this intense flare of unimaginable pain shooting through her head and then nothing. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she tried to think back.

She remembered the bar and the drinking and that guy she made out with but then ditched. She remembered the guy she left with. She remembered heading to his car and beginning to feel weird as they made out. She remembered him beginning to grope her and her body beginning to feel heavy making her unable to protest. She remembered her clothes getting ripped open and..... She remembered hailing a cab to bring her here. She remembered feeling worse and worse as time wore on. She remembered the headache that had her being barely able to see straight as she tried to get to her room. The pain so bad that it made her nauseous. She remembered falling more than once. She remembered screaming. What she didn't remember was making it all the way up the stairs. She had only been up one stair and then the rest was.....blank.

The light was hurting her eyes and head so she closed the curtains to cut off the sunlight. As she stood by the window a sudden wave of nausea hit her, sending her running as fast as she could to the bathroom. She was down on her knees, head in the toilet, being violently sick. When the nauseous feeling passed she sat down on the floor and rested her head back on the wall, taking slow, deep breaths. She was pale and sweaty and feeling shaky. Once she was sure that the nauseous feeling wasn't coming back she got up and rinsed her mouth out. The cool water felt so good on her clammy skin that she decided to go all the way and take a bath.

Fifteen minutes later she emerged from the bathroom in a robe, feeling slightly better. She rummaged around in her suitcase for something to wear, Caliste had refused to unpack her stuff, while debating going back to bed or going downstairs.

[Tyson Castelle]

&&&

“How the hell am I supposed to know how she became one? It was your sperm that did the swimming and you dick that did the penetrating; ask yourself how she became one.” He shot out at his father because he was really tired of being asked “How has she come to be a witch?” It felt good saying it but the consequence of it was disastrous because it father yelled an earful and more into the phone then hung up. He wished he could feel bad about ticking off his father but at the same time he could not be more thankful to have finally gotten off the phone after six hours of non-stop talking. His ear was sore, his eyes were sore and his body ached. Last night, or rather, earlier this morning was no picnic for him, but having to say up and try to piece together the obvious to make it not so much obvious…fatigue had grown onto him and that had to suffice. He glanced at the phone had had thrown onto his bed, then to the laptop with the paused video of what happened before static and then he glanced to the door when he heard sounds of scuffling from Caliste’s room. She was up…

He got up, pulled on a pair of old jeans and an old house shirt and headed across the hall with a book in his hand. His mother’s and father’s journal from their younger years of courting and marriage and his laptop in the other. He made the attempt to raise his hand to knock on her door but remembered both his hands were occupied, so he used his hand with the journal and with some effort, turned the knob and opened the door. He stood on the outside for a moment then stepped in and looked over at Caliste, dressed in a bathroom and searching for something in her suitcases. Hopefully it was something more appropriate to wear. He cleared his throat so he could capture her attention and once he had, he looked at her sternly. There were dozens of things he could say to her at this point. He could tell her that he wanted cash from her own pocket to fix his wrecked him. He could tell her that he wanted her out of his home and his life. He could tell her that she was an irresponsible, foolish, immature girl who had no sense in that brain of hers. Or he could tell her that she was a witch. Hmmm. Options? So why choose one.

“When you get a chance…go downstairs…sorry, I mean, try to go downstairs. You trashed my loft and you will pay for the damages. Not with the money my father supplied you with…with your own money and I have my ways of knowing. Technology has advanced, just so you know.” What she did not know was how capable he was of advancing it even further. “Second of all…don’t ever come into my home, at that hour in the manner you did because I will leave you downstairs next time. Can’t even say I wish the rats would have at you given that I keep my home clean. Well, I try but you make it rather difficult. You may count that a victory but it will come at a cost to you. Out of your own money again, you’ll hire a maid. Again, not with my father’s money, yours.” He fell silent and waited for an argument but he left room for none. He set his journal and laptop atop the dresser and turned to her with folded arms.

“Do you remember what happened last night when you came back here?” He was dead serious. This was a side of him she had never seen before…so she needed to get used to it.

[Caliste Marionette]

It was when Caliste had still been in the shower, her head under the steady stream of warm water, that it had hit her; when the memory had dug its way out from under the haze the tons of alcohol had left. Her grandmother was gone. The thought alone had nearly made her fall to her knees on the shower floor. She couldn't accept it, it couldn't be true. In fact she was half convinced that it was all a horrible nightmare that she would hopefully soon wake up from. It didn't make sense, she had been improving not by much but progress was progress, right? Was there something she or the doctors had missed? Was there something else she could have, should have done?

"Why'd she have to die?" she said in a barely audible whisper. "Why'd she have to leave me?"

Now she was in her suitcase hunting for some clothes and to see if she had any Bengay left; the warm water had eased the pain a little but her body was still sore. She assumed that it had took more than she had thought to fight that bastard off of her before he "completed the deed".

'You're such a stupid jackass Caliste.' she mentally berated herself as her mind drifted back to events of last night. She had not a soul to blame but herself for not only leaving the bar with a rapist but downing a drugged drink as well.

She hadn't been paying attention enough to hear the door open as she was lost in her own thoughts so she only realized that she was no longer alone when Tyson cleared his throat. She turned away from her suitcase to look back at him, giving a cursory nod to acknowledge his presence but then turned back to her suitcase. She wasn't in the mood for another argument with him about God knows what...not now.

Callie listened to his entire speech quietly, her brow furrowed in confusion at some parts but she let it go. She was too tired to try to decipher whatever hidden meaning there was in his words. Maybe she had barfed all over an expensive Persian rug or knocked over a one of a kind handpainted vast, it could happen. Lord knew that this place was cram filled with enough priceless stuff to rival a museum. When he finished, a few minutes passed before she sighed and stood up straight as she turned to face him.

"Look, I'm really not in the mood for this, Tyson." she said plainly, "I'm not exactly sure what damage you're talking about. If I broke or ruined something of yours last night, yes I will pay for the repairs and with my own money. I've told you before that I don't plan on using any of your darling dad's cash, that hasn't changed. In fact as soon as I can find my cell and gather my stuff I'm leaving so I won't be in your hair anymore. I'm going back to Paris as soon as I can and you can go on with your life, that should make your day. As far last night, no I don't remember what much of what I did when I got back here last night. I was wasted and had the king of all monster headaches. I could barely see straight so no I don't remember. As I said I'll pay for whatever damage I caused."

"If there is nothing else, I need to get dressed and start packing so if you don't mind..." she finished, pointedly looking over his shoulder at the door.

[Tyson Castelle]

&&&

He tightened his folded arms and looked at her as if she was out of her mind…that was mainly because she was so far out of her mind it was kind of startling. The words that rolled off her tongue deserved nothing better than to fall into a trash bin, poised for emptying…but he guessed that her annoying rattling was because of the loss she had encountered. Yeah, he heard all about it but paid little attention to it mainly because it did not affect him, and not to sound so cold, he could care less about her problems when he had his own to deal with and I his defence, she made it possible for him to cast anything that dealt with her in the same trash bin as that was what it meant to him. Useless information…and anyone would admit to that if they were in the same situation and pressured into admitting just that, a feat that appeared harder than it seemed but for him, not that hard at all. But he supposed he could show some sympathy for the girl…just a bit.

“First of all, I would like to express my apologies for the loss of your grandmother. I understand that she was the only family you had left and I could see how much she meant to you given all you have given up just to take care of her both then and now…so, I’m sorry for the fact that you have lost the one person you loved.” Whether she accepted that as genuine or not was her business, he meant it, but he was not going to get worked up about something that had no effect on him…what did have an effect on him was the knowledge that the lower part of his home was trashed….trashed! “I’m sure you will get the funeral arrangements in order and all that went with it…but I think there is something more pressing at the moment and it concerns you a great deal more than you could care to think…and no, it is not the appalling manner that you came back in…or the liquored up state you wore like the ragged attire you sported…it’s actually significant.” Yes, he could not help but to put her down, even when she was in pain.

“The fact that I am pissed is, as you know, because of you…but look at you, you can’t even flip my dining room table, far less the coffee table…but it was because of you. You did something last night and you passed out because of it because what you did was so powerful and uncontrolled that it has forced me to move into my other, unfinished home.” He thought for a second after, wondering if it was wise to make the discussion about him, but he shrugged it off and continued. He was more than fine with it. His home after all. “So if you could hose down your irritations…watch this.” He said. He looked at her for a second to make sure that she would comply, and then he turned and looked at his laptop set atop her dresser. Without touching, the compute switched from the screen saver to the video window he had up which started to play on its own accord. Soon, all that could be heard in his home was the sound of the video as it retold what happened. She needed to know…

[Caliste Marionette]

Caliste stood there for a few minutes, waiting for him to turn and leave but soon realized that he wasn't going to.

"Whatever." she scoffed, turning away from him and returning to her suitcase.

He could stay there since he apparently had nothing better to do with his time. She didn't care, anymore. She didn't really care about much anymore. At any rate, she was leaving soon and he could go back to his perfect little life. Caliste had not planned to acknowledge his presence again but then he spoke of her grandmother's death. At those words, Caliste turned around to stare at him with shocked, wide eyes so fast that she almost cracked her neck.

"How did you...?" she began in a whisper but as she felt the tears beginning to well in her eyes once again she quickly turned back around and focused on forcing down the emotions that threatened to consume her.

"Well, I always knew she was going to go sooner or later. Just hoped it would be later." Caliste said in a monotone voice after a few minutes, "Thanks for the condolences though....whether you meant them or not."

That should have been the end of it, right? He could leave and go and do whatever stuck-up, pompous, rich brats did in their spare time and leave Callie the hell alone. Was that really too much to ask? Apparently it was. The young girl actually closed her eyes in a silent, exasperated plea to the heavens when she heard his voice as he started up again. With a sigh, she flopped down on her bed to listen as she accepted the reality that he wasn't leaving her alone anytime soon.

'Flipping tables?' she thought in utter confusion, 'What the hell?'

"What the hell are you going on and on...and on...and on...and on about Tyson?" she tiredly asked as she felt a migraine building behind her eye, "What is ever so significant? You can talk all you want and exercise your distinct talent for 'going on and on and on' but it won't make much of an impact if I have NO IDEA what you are talking about. All I've gotten from your little rants is that you are appalled and disgusted by my very existence and all I do but that is beyond ancient news now so whatever it is you have to say stop talking in circles and just spit it out already, Ty."

Usually Caliste would not have given a damn. She would have told him and go shove whatever problem he had up his ass but she was mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted. Frankly, she just didn't have it in her to go another round with him in their endless fight so instead she obediently looked over at his laptop as it started playing a video.

"Cool trick." she said, referring to the handsfree control of the laptop as she watched herself stumbling in the door, "It only figures that you have the latest tech gear."

Caliste watched and as more time passed her eyes widened in a mixture of confusion, disbelief and shock. She knew she had been wasted but she should have at least registered the utter destruction that was going on around her. She was lucky that she hadn't been killed. It looked like massive bombs had been going off in the loft. All the destruction but minus the explosions. She had never seen anything like it.

'Earthquake?' she thought as her mind tried to find some sort of explanation for what she was seeing but not believing.

"What the hell?" she said, looking over at Ty, "Did we have an earthquake or something? I mean, God, what the hell happened."

Caliste looked back over at the laptop just in time to see herself collapsed on the floor and Tyson finding her. Then something he said earlier donned on her that caused her to focus on him once again.

"Wait a minute, you're blaming me for that?" she said, pointing at herself and then the frozen scene of utter and complete destruction being displayed on the laptop. "How the hell can you say that that is my fault? I mean God, Ty, I know that you think I'm worse than the Devil himself but you can't possibly really try to put a natural disaster on me. That is really going above and beyond even for you, don't you think? What's next? Are poverty and global warming my fault too?"