After Atlantica had "escaped", I sat down on the couch where she lay. There was some blood on the cushions. I looked at the wreckage of my dorm, and I sighed. There were holes in the floor, and wood everywhere. The giant beam lay between the couch I sat on and Jessica's bed. This was truly horrible. And all my fault, not to mention.

I looked at Jessica's fragile form on the bed. Her face was twisted with concentration and horror. Yet again, I feel immeasurable amounts of guilt. I concentrate on staring at the blood on the couch.

The blood that would not be there if I hadn't screamed.

I release a shaky breath.

A black figure nudges my foot. I look down quickly.

It is Blackie.

I smile as he nudges my feet more, and rubs up against them, making a strange vibrating noise. I pat his back as he lays down by me.

I feel at ease.

Morris. The liar, the traitor, the possible killer.

I have never been happier to see him float in.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot him. He does not yet notice me, but I see him. I think he HAS noticed me... he just refuses to look. I see him pick up one of Atlantica's cupcakes... and throw it out the window. What a waste. I start worrying about Pacific's fate, when I see Morris sit by her. He looks as if... he is about to cry? I see him look at Pacific - longingly? He reaches as if to touch her face... but then pulls back.

I wonder.

Eralonia, that awful, horrid cat comes by. He picks her up and pets the vile creature. I almost feel bile rising up my throat. I glare at him. He puts her down and dials something on the phone. Hopefully he is finally calling for HELP. If it has not been noticed, we are all in need of some assistance.

I see him come back, then inspect Eralonia.... he notices the blood on her paws... and kicks her away. She hisses and scatters. Yes! Joy fills me strongly. Justice has finally come to that disgusting creature. He crouches to Pacific... and smiles gently. I believe she is alright. He floats over to me, and I glare at him stronger. He looks over to Jessica, who I hope is alright.

I hear loud, thundering footsteps, and then fear overtakes me. Morris rushes to the people in white, with bottles of what looks like blood, and tubes and tanks of whatnot. The Time Team is also there. Yes! Brilliant! They unfreeze time in a matter of minutes. The light coming from the window fades to darkness. It is night out.

The I realize the beam is about to crush me... but it doesn't. A cinderblock or stone of some sort is on the side, propping up the beam. I release a heavy sigh, and stand up. I rush over to Pacific, tending to her wounds, which are quite minor. I bring her over to the doctors. I then rush to Jessica, who has suffered no injuries, but looks paler than before. I bring her upstairs, to Morris' bed. I run back downstairs, and tell the doctors about Jessica, and ask what they can do.

They say nothing, only shuffle their feet and look at the floor or ceiling.

I inhale. "You are of no help." I say.

Morris come over before I can scream again. He talks quietly, but tells me that these two need to stay here until healed. I nod.

The doctors and nurses leave. I close the door and slide down until I am sitting on the floor. I exhale loudly.

And then I cry. I cry every tear I wasn't able to before. I cry happiness, sadness, confusion, relief, frustration, and all in between. Morris sits by me... and cries as well.

We cry for hours.

I want to scream at the cats... but then...

I hear the ticking of keys on a laptop keyboard, and Pacific's thoughts. The relief is overwhelming, although I see some blood on the floor. She is begging for help. From the Time Team.

Help from Morris.

That won't happen anytime soon. Morris is a traitor and a coward, and he would never come back to help us. He teleported away the moment I screamed.

And in just that moment, Morris floats through the ceiling and by Pacific. He refuses to face me or Jessica.

And then, just when I don't wish to, I peer into his minds' eye.

Sigh.

I am lying underneath the beam, silently, wishing I could stand. I see something move out of the corner of my eye... I immediately stop breathing. It's Pacific. She has come to save me. How did she know what had happened? If she knew... she knew.

I felt it happen. I was reading her mind involuntarily.

-inhereIseeherisshealrightIbettergocheckbutIshouldgogethelpfirst-

Her mind is racing. She walks over to me. I see her try to lift the beam... I want to tell her the effort is worthless. She bends down and assures me Jessica is alright. I relax. She tells me to get some rest, but I know I can't.

I feel no pain from the beam on top of me, but that is because time is frozen. Not exactly fear is the mood I have, but just... anticipation.

I hear her have a strong coughing fit. And then hissing. I hear her fall to the ground, and then fear overtakes me. What has happened?

I then see the two, wretched cats come up to me. Eralobnia looks horrified, and Nova is shaking.

I see the blood on their paws.

She lay under the rubble from the room, motionless.

She was awake. She was alive.

She wished she wasn't.

She only cared about the girl in the bed.

She couldn't get up.

She needed to see her.

She needed to apologize.

She.

@Atlantica or Pacific

*monotone* Morris says hello and you are welcome. As does Eralonia and Nova.

Pacific is not okay? That is not good. You should be more concerned. I hope she returns soon.

That is kind of you to come over. I am truly glad. Really, I am.... You don't have to do that. I am not depressed. Only... tired. Yes, that's it. tired. Ha ha. I do not think Jessica can be woken up so easily... I will research more ways to try and awaken her. And I believe Morris will be more than slightly uncomfortable.

Atlantica... I don't think Pacific is... *shuffling*

{Excuse me, Scilph, let me just borrow this Journal real quick...}

...Alright.

{Atlantica... I'm sure you know what's happening. You just refuse to believe it. I'm sorry, but I know that you know. No amount of puns or chick flicks will solve this problem. I saw you when you were in the cell. You were so lonely, and deep in thought. I thought you were Pacific at first, until I saw you force a smile at me.}

{I know how you feel. Scilph knows how you feel. Maybe Pacific will come back... maybe she won't. Maybe Jessica will come back... maybe she wo-}

*LOUD SHRIEK*

*LIGHTBULBS BURSTING*

*RINGING*

[JOURNAL HAS STOPPED OPERATING. COMMENCE SHUT DOWN PROCESS.]

The pale, weak, but awake girl sits by the sleeping one.

Hours ago, she had awakened, only for a few moments, just to tell her the guilt should not be on her shoulders.

Nova, the galaxy cat, silently crept into the room. She jumped onto the weak girl's lap. The girl gasped. She dared not move at all. The cat stared into her gray eyes gently.

Since the living box had all but lived since the sleeping girl entered, and the ghost and his cat had left, the weak girl had so many things to talk about, but no one to talk to. She hated felines with a burning passion... but she needed to take this weight off her chest.

"She had cared for me."

The weak girl seemed to become weaker with every word.

"She had sent me paper planes with friendly messages, and she had voted me for Student of the Month. She was my first companion. She helped me smile."

The paler-than-before girl released a shaky breath.

"Your owner was- is... a beautiful, amazing young woman. She looks, speaks, and seems normal in almost every last way, but is so extraordinary."

She cleared her throat.

"I despise cats."

Nova seemed to grin at the pale girl. She lay down and purred.

The pale, not-as-weak, but awake girl sighed gently.

The pale, weak, tired girl froze, a needle pointed at her wrist.

She had woken.

But only for a moment.

Only to deliver a message, like a dreaming angel in a nightgown.

She had woken to tell her it was not her fault, to tell her that it was okay, to tell her that she forgave her.

She had said her name with caring. She didn't spit it like venom at her, like a weapon.

The pale, weak girl's eyes widened. "Jessica..." She whispered.

And Jessica fell back into the deep, nightmare-filled slumber.

Scilph dropped the needle.

The lightbulb flickers, and dies.

A weak, pale girl, sitting by a bed with a stronger, sleeping girl. They are both clothed in nightgowns. The pale girls' seems to droop down, while it flows around the sleeping girls' still body. The pale is silent and unmoving. She does not blink. She does not breathe. She only mourns.

A ghost saunters in the room. He shows no trace of emotion. Only the faint flicker of light. He settles next to the pale girl. The black box under the bed, once lively and bristling, remains motionless. The ink for the leather chest is gone. A white cat follows behind him. It gets on its haunches, and jumps on the bed.

The pale girl snaps.

She releases every foul insult, every last word she has been containing. She shrieks at the cat to stay away from her, to get its filthy flea-ridden paws off of her sleeping form and to do some very unpleasant things. The cat shrinks back, hissing and whimpering softly. The ghost has a moment of shock, but is replaced by anger. He picks up the cat and floats away, plunging the room into darkness.

The pale girl sits down, weak again. She is helpless.

She is the one who made the girl likes this.

The once strong, healthy, and happy young woman is now in a sleep like death. Because the pale girl didn't care enough. She hadn't cared for her enough and the only reason she was gone was because of her and her alone. Her breathing became shaky, and the weak girl became weaker.

She hadn't eaten. She hadn't slept. She hadn't moved from this spot for weeks.

Every day, she looked wearily at the small needle on the bedside table. And every day, she had pushed away the thought.