Chapter 46

It was early enough that Kristen was still alone in the library, except for the librarian. She looked up at him, surprised, when he sat down beside her.

"Love, we've got a bit of a problem," he said, quietly, and she went pale.

He sighed, hating the fear in her eyes, but she needed to know. She deserved to know. "I found out why she never apologized to you," he said.

"What do you mean? I didn't expect her to!"

"She's obsessed, love," he said softly. "With you."

"What?" Kristen stared at him, her green eyes wide.

"She's obsessed with you," he repeated. "In a manner of speaking. Just like me. Once wasn't enough for her."

She shook her head in sudden panic. "Once is all she's getting!"

He reached for her shoulders. "Easy, love!" She swallowed hard, shaking, and he frowned. "Why are you so upset?"

She wrapped her arms around her ribs and looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry," she said tightly. "And I'm sorry if she's obsessed with me. B-but I don't care. I still won't do it again. I ... I can say 'no', now. I can!"

"Whoa, love! I'm not asking you to." He tilted her chin up and studied her face. "Why are you so frightened? Are you tempted?"

"No," she said firmly. "Not at all. I can't stand the thought."

He tried to read her face, but he couldn't tell whether or not that was what she really felt. And even if it was, her reaction still seemed to be too much. He frowned. "Why does it bother you as much as it does?" he asked. "This seem ... excessive. It might be important."

"It hurt, Mark," she said. "I wanted to die. I'd never felt more humiliated in my life."

He was still struggling to understand. "But from what you said, some of the boys said things almost as bad. Why did this in particular bother you so much?"

She shivered. "Not that bad," she whispered. "But ... it just does. She wasn't a boy, she was an adult, and I trusted her. I thought she cared."

He stared at her for a long moment, his face thoughtful. "I see. You say you can tell her 'no'?"

"I don't want her to touch me," she said. "I don't want to see her at all."

He caressed her cheek. "Love, I won't force you ... but would you at least see her long enough to let her apologize."

She started trembling more violently, and shook her head mutely.

He frowned, even more concerned now. "Love, something is wrong here. I'm thinking it may have something to do with your ... nature. Can you figure out why the thought of ever seeing her bothers you so much?"

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and shook her head. "She hurt me. I don't want to put myself where she can do it again."

He rested his hand on her shoulder. "Do you trust me to protect you?"

"Yes, she whispered. "But not to be omnipotent."

"Love, she knows I can have her thrown in jail. And ... I don't think she wants to hurt you. Trust me? Please?"

She whimpered. "I trust you. But I'm too scared. I don't think I could make myself talk to her."

"Can you let her talk to you? If I'm touching you at all times, with you always?"

Her eyes glistened. "Don't let her touch me?"

"I won't. I promise."

"If ... if you really want me to, I will, then," she whispered. "But ... oh god, Mark, I don't want to!"

He caressed her shoulders soothingly. "Love, I think it will help you to hear her apologize. Please?"

She avoided his eyes. "I said I would, Mark."

He nodded, and took her hands, pulling her to her feet.

She went reluctantly, dragging her feet as he led her towards the counselor's office. As they neared the door, though, she grew more and more agitated before finally yanking away and running into the nearby bathroom.

He stopped outside the door for a moment, thinking maybe she needed some time alone to gather her nerve, but violent retching sounds came to him faintly through the thick door.

He frowned, looking around, and then pushed the door partway open, calling hesitantly, "Is anyone else in there?" There was no answer, so he stepped inside, just as Kristen finished being violently ill and staggered to the sink, turning it on and splashing cold water on her face.

He went to her, smoothing the hair back from her face, resting one hand on her back. "Are you okay, love?"

She leaned miserably against the mirror, looking like utter shit. Her face was pale and splotchy, her eyes closed in misery. "Not really."

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know. I just ... I got so scared I couldn't stop myself from being sick."

"I won't let her hurt you, love. I promise."

"I know." She leaned back over the sink, rinsing her mouth and washing her face. Finally, she looked up at him, and he held out his hand. She stared at it for a few seconds, then took it.

He squeezed. "I love you."

She smiled weakly. "Love you, too."

Once again he led her towards the office, and this time she made it all the way, but balked at the door, pulling hard against his hand. He stopped, and looked down at her for a moment, then said, "Wait here a second? Let me talk to her first?"

She nodded, the relief plain on her face. "Absolutely."

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and Angie looked up miserably.

"I want you to apologize to her," he said. "Whatever you do, don't hurt her again. Just the thought of seeing you frightens her so much that it made her sick."

Angie started shaking again. "No! Keep her away from me. Don't let her near me."

He shook his head. "You hurt her, badly, and she needs to hear you apologize. I'm going to be here, so I know you won't do anything."

"I don't trust myself," she said. "I don't know what I might do. Please keep her away ... it's just not safe. Call the police if you want to, but don't expose her to me."

He shook his head again. "I'm going to be right here, and I'm going to be between the two of you at all times. I'm not going to let you hurt her ... but don't even try, okay?"

"Look ... I ... I don't think I'm sane, okay? Not in this. It's totally crazy. Please don't!" she begged.

He didn't answer, just opened the door and called softly. "Love?"

She stared at him from across the hall, and he held out his hand. Reluctantly, she let him draw her into the office, and held her hand, comfortingly, as he closed the door. He held her, and looked at Angie. "I think you owe her an apology, Angie?" he prompted gently.

Angie closed her eyes tightly, her whole body vibrating with tension, and nodded, but seemed totally unable to speak.

"Angie? Tell her."

"Kristen..." Her voice was shaky, strained. "I ... I'm so sorry. There's nothing wrong with you. It's ... it's not your fault. It's me. I'm sick, insane. Oh god."