Eternal

Author's Notes: Here it is, my second story. Very different from my last one: A. it has no ghosts and B. it has nothing to do with Danny. I don't look forward to this one being very long... six chapters, possibly. It's just a break until I write the prequel to Cold As Ice. Those of you waiting for it after that "open ending", I'm very sorry. This was itching my fingers, okay? The genre is mostly romance and angst. This chapter contains domestic abuse and suicide; read at your own discretion. If anyone thinks I should up the rating, let me know.

Disclaimer: I do not own the two main characters in this story. Butch Hartman, Nickelodeon, etc own them. The idea is solely mine. This disclaimer goes forth to all chapters.

Vision in Darkness

You know the type. They're those people who seem to just be natural born outcasts. No one really makes fun of them, or rejects them, or ever gave them much reason to be loners. No one really knows anything about them, other than what you can perceive from what you see of them everyday. Those lacking in social skills usually fall beyond your peripheral vision, too small for the normal human eye to catch, but there's always the one that attracts your eye without ever seeming to pay any mind at all to you. Aren't they supposed to be the overlooked ones, anyway?

This unique brand of teenager exists in all environments, including the class of 1991 at Casper High School.

She was the kind of person who lurked in the back, more out of distaste for those around her than for shyness. She was the kind of person that everyone expected had a screwed up life, who had no ambition to achieve anything, and put no effort into whatever someone else expected her to do. The sort of girl who smoked cigarettes beneath the bleachers at the football stadium by herself and flicked the burnt ends at the feet of those who were watching the game; who went anywhere with anyone who asked just to make people angry; who wore cheap, thrift store clothing, dirty and torn, and tried to pass it off as individuality even though everyone knew it was just because she didn't have any money.

She would disappear during the lunch hour at school, unnoticed by most, uncared for by more, other than the occasional joke of, "I wonder where Black Kat ran off to this time."

A few people admitted that maybe she'd look half decent if she took better care of her appearance. Some boys even thought her unkempt style was alluring. They just held back from approaching her with their thoughts, afraid they'd contract a disease by breathing the same air as her. It wasn't meant to be cruel; it was just how everyone saw her.

And for the most part, everyone saw Katherine Riley with absolute clarity.

She didn't make an attempt to stand up to the rumors or the gossip. It wasn't like they were lies, most of the time. She didn't work hard in school. Why bother? She didn't have any money to get into college, and it wasn't like anyone expected her to. For the most part, school was just a place for her to run to. No one wanted to hassle her there anymore, after three years of nice classmates and concerned counselors and vice-principals trying to find the source of her problem.

Did they expect her to take them seriously when all they wanted her to do was to feel like life was the Breakfast Club?

I wonder how those people got a master's degree, she thought as she painted an extra coat of dark red nail polish over her longer fingernails. She shook the hand underneath the desk so that it would dry quickly without her government teacher noticing. Ha. As though his poor eyesight could locate her in the back corner behind the end of the bookshelf.

She rested her forehead against the desk and played the new Nirvana song over in her head, ticking off the minutes until the final bell rang and she could end this day. The familiar shrill siren of freedom she'd come to adore sounded throughout the room. She slowly rose from her desk to gather her things, and then bolted through the door without another word spoken.

The hallways quickly filled to capacity with loud, laughing, and running teenagers. Somehow, Katherine was able to cut through the masses without touching a single one. An invisible dome of sorts seemed to surround her body as she made her way to her small locker near the center of the corridor, next to the staircases that led to the first floor.

Opening her locker revealed a nearly empty space, only containing a green messenger bag and a wool scarf that hung from a hook in the back. The inner wall of the door was covered by several pictures of artists from her time, a drawing, and a sticker with a witty, sarcastic phrase. There was nothing special within.

She reached in and wrapped the scarf around her neck and shoulders, adding more warmth to the red leather jacket she wore already. It was November, and she was already dreading the even colder days that she would have to bear through in weeks to come. Perhaps this was her punishment for usually choosing to wear little clothing over her legs and stomach.

Whatever the case, by the time she finally removed herself from her mind and closed her locker, the halls were nearly cleared out. She was pretty much the only person left in the hallway. A small smile appeared stealthily on her face, and though smiles weren't necessarily uncommon with her, they were hardly seen by the public.

To her, mystery was an admirable attribute in anyone. That, as well as loyalty, trust, imagination. Seeing as she was probably one of the few people she knew of with any of these qualities, she purposely kept her circle small in size. Dots count as circles, don't they?

When she reached the ground floor and walked through the glass doors, she found herself amongst the aftermath of a brief rainstorm that must have happened while she was in her final period. She smirked and walked out into the damp air, feeling a little more comfortable than she would have in the dry cold.

It would take her ten minutes to get to her lovely home from the schoolyard. Sneaking a small white box from her bag, she took out a thin white stick and placed it in her lips. She hadn't left school grounds yet, but what the heck? She whipped out a pack of matches from the pocket of her jacket and struck one, watching the flame dance as it lit the end of her cigarette. She inhaled and suddenly felt much warmer.

She passed the park on her way to her house. It was rather big, but it didn't boast much; just a path through some trees, a bench here or there, and a small playground. It was a fairly new area. She sighed contentedly. It smelled lush after the rain. It almost seemed romantic.

Excuse me? She shook the thoughts from her mind. As if. But the thoughts remained with her, unable to be dismissed from her secretly hopelessly romantic mind. Just like a movie, she could see a life entirely changed by some sort of event that might happen there. Whatever god there was knew

Katherine paused in the doorway, her eyes wide in fear, not surprised at the scene in front of her.

Her six-year-old sister, Hannah, was sobbing under the coffee table, curled into a fetal position. Her back was to Katherine, but she knew that her eyes were shut tight and she was trying to distract herself with a song. That's what she'd told her to do whenever their father behaved like this. Her mother was stretched out on the couch, glaring through a few stray tears at the burly man standing above her. There were bruises on her arms and his hands were fists.

Her father set his wild-eyed, drunken gaze on Katherine. She closed the door slowly behind her and grasped the door handle, feeling like an alley cat under the eyes of a rabid dog.

"Had fun last night, didn't ya?" he slurred, grinning humorlessly. "You little slut."

Katherine inhaled and puffed out her chest, glaring defiantly. He reached to the table and Hannah retracted from him. Instead of striking at her, he lifted up a wad of money and held it out to her. "Not satisfied with the money I make," he growled, "or do you enjoy being the worthless skank I always knew you'd be." He made his way toward her, her mother screaming at him and Hannah humming louder to cover her own shrieks.

Her head bounced against the door as a hand came across the side of her head. Her long brown hair flew into her mouth and she groaned in pain, her ears ringing. She held her head and began to slide down. Another blow hit her in her unprotected stomach and she staggered back into the door.

"I thought I'd raised a decent family," he boomed at everyone in the room. "You're damned mother tried to hide it from me. Deceiving little piece of shits, all of you. You think your sister wants a big sister who flaunts herself downtown, crawling into cars with rich old men with nothing better to do?"

He slammed Katherine against the wall again. She bit her tongue and tasted blood in her mouth. "Don't touch me!" she yelled.

"Why not, bitch?" he yelled, pinning her arms to the wall and one leg with his knee. He smiled maliciously. "You let everyone else. Why shouldn't I touch my own flesh and blood, eh? See what all the fuss is about." He let go of one arm and reached down...

Katherine screamed and pushed him away. She bolted for the door, sprinting away into the wet afternoon, away from the hellhole she was forced to call home. She ran and ran as though a ghost were chasing her.

She approached the shining silver gates of salvation: the park. She wrapped her hands around the bars and pushed them open, something inside of her compelling her to run as fast as she could to whatever ends. The running made her already pounding head feel ready to explode. Not to mention the loud roar of cars and motorcycles in her ears.

In the distance she saw people hanging around the playground. No way did she want to stand in public after that. She strayed off to another path and ran through a thick trail of bushes and trees.

She reached the place where the bath opened up. A wooden bridge was erected over what looked like a long, not very shallow, creek. The recent rain had filled it with water splashing against the rocks in its way.

There was no future in her sight. Her grades were tanked, the only job she had was one she hated with a passion and the one her alcoholic father had just tried to turn against her. She grabbed her jacket and closed it tight around her, shutting her eyes tightly. She never liked it. The first time she'd ever done it was because it was late, she was drunk, and her father had kicked her out because he found a pack of cigarettes. She was just standing there and someone thought she was working... she needed money. She didn't think twice.

The only place she could go back to was a house she was now terrified of. Her mother and sister had been left there to his mercy. What a hypocrite, getting on to her for smoking when he'd done it since he was her age. There was no way she would ever, ever return to that house, though. Only if she could save Hannah, but she couldn't.

She couldn't.

She was just a stray, black kitten, full of bad luck and bringing it to everyone else...

Without thinking twice, she stepped onto the bridge and heard it creak beneath her weight. Maybe she wouldn't die, but she'd be hurt. Maybe too hurt to stand and walk away, and she'd die there in the cold creek.

She pulled herself onto the rail and squatted, ready to stand and let gravity do its work...

Something wrapped around her waist and pulled her back. She toppled backward and landed on a warm body, blowing the air out of its chest. Two hands held her arms and lifted her paralyzed body way, turning her to face him.

"Now what the hell do you think you were doing?"

Author's Note: Spent a few days trying to figure out how to do the last half. I think it came out pretty okay. Don't worry, that's the... um, second darkest scene in the whole story. Kay? Hope you stick around.

Saramis Kismet