chapter one

Excerpt from Rhiannon Mary Lougher's diary

'Close your eyes, but don't sleep. Close your eyes, but don't dream. Simply close your eyes, and you will see my world. My world; the colours of darkness and the sounds of silence. For in every essence, it is my world. It is a beautiful place; a green valley, covered with daisies and bluebells. A crystal clear stream cuts through it like a snake over the desert dunes. The sky is always blue, the sun is always warm, the breeze is always cool. The birds chirp their songs to me, and the wind plays its tune across the reeds. The soft sand in the bottom of the stream is like silk between my toes, and the water is a blanket of sweet purity, washing away the stains of reality.
This is my world. It is a peaceful place; a realm of contented happiness. There is no sound of war-drums, no gunfire, no screams. Of sadness and misery there is not a trace. The mountains are alive; their heartbeat becomes my own whenever I return. The worn deer-trails are always walked, if not by myself, then by the animals. The creatures live in harmony here; they do not fight, there is no need. Nothing can disturb the peace and harmony of this world.
My world . . .'

~ * ~
March, 1998
Tulsa, Oklahoma

'Close your eyes, but don't sleep. Close your eyes, but don't dream. Simply close your eyes, and you will see my world . . .' the words rang through Taylor's head. Why wouldn't they leave him alone? 'My world; the colours of darkness and the sounds of silence . . .'
"Go away! Just - go - away!" he hissed to them, but they still wouldn't listen. 'For in every essence, it is my world . . .'
"Oh hell," Taylor dropped his pen on his desk and rested his head in his hands. Two years, two whole years, and those words still wouldn't leave him alone! That's all they were. Words; made-up pieces of sounds that ran together in a way that simply would not go away. Words couldn't hurt him. Right?
Isaac looked over at his brother and shook his head sadly. So Tay's demons were back again? Oh well. It wasn't the first time it had all come back to haunt him, and Ike was pretty sure that it wouldn't be the last. What had happened that day? Taylor had been so different before - more talkative - but now he was so quiet. What on earth had happened that day to make him so quiet, as if he had something to hide. Nobody had been able to get a straight story - or any story at all for that matter - from him, and Rhiannon . . . Rhiannon . . . why had she died?
"Ike?" Tay's voice pulled Isaac thoughts back from the past they'd all tried to bury in the two years since it had happened.
"Yeah Tay?" there was a pause.
"I, uh . . . nothing. Never mind," Ike inwardly shook his head again and sighed inwardly. How long would this phase last? A week? A month? A year? With Taylor, who could tell?

Hearing a scrape on the floorboards, Taylor sneaked a peek through the loose blond hair that hung around his face. His Mom was coming back. Quick as a lynx, he grabbed the blue pen from the floor where it had fallen and started writing, trying to look like he was busy answering the questions in his textbook. He'd been home-schooled for as long as he could remember. It was handy in a way. Wherever he and his brothers had to travel, it was easier to take their textbooks and their Mom than having to carry a tonne of sheets and assignments from the scores of different teachers he would've had, if he'd gone to school.
"How are you going with those, Tay? Finished yet?" Diana Hanson asked her second eldest son.
"Uh, no, not yet Mom. A few more minutes?" Taylor didn't look up from his paper, pretending to actually think about what he was writing.
"I've already given you half an hour! How much longer do you need?"
"I . . . uh . . ."
"Show me what you've done; it can't be that hard,"
"No! Mom, I -!" Too late! Diana had already snatched the paper from the table. Guiltily, he watched his mother's pleasant expression sour and shrivel away. She dropped the paper on the table and stared at Taylor. Her face was closed, her lips pressed into a tight line. But her eyes gave her away. Even his littlest brother, Mackie, could have seen the pain in those eyes. What on earth had he written? Quickly grabbing the paper from the table, he turned it over,
'Close your eyes, but don't sleep . . .' eyes burning, he ripped up that piece of paper into tiny shreds and let them fall to the floor. Why did all of this have to come back now? Why now?

~ * ~
August, 1995
Tulsa, Oklahoma

Two girls were walking down Peoria Drive under the blazing streetlights. They'd just come back from the local pool, which had closed far too early. For them anyway. Smiling, the taller of the two girls looked around. She loved living in Brookside. Every day, she walked along this road to get home; from the pool in the summer and from school the rest of the year, except, of course, when it snowed. Every night, as she lay in bed, she'd listen to the music that drifted in her window, the same music that had serenaded her to sleep ever since she'd been born. She'd grown up on the bluesy rock and country that blared from bars like the Blue Rose Café. The Blue Rose. It was the centre of her universe. Too bad it was 21-and-over. Oh well; she'd already vowed the millisecond she turned 21, she'd be in there like a flash, what else could she do? The shorter girl looked around the rows of restaurants and clubs and bars.
"I still can't believe you actually live here! Lucky cow!" Elisabette smiled, Rhiannon playfully punched her on the arm, "Ow!"
"Serves you right -" suddenly, Rhiannon stopped.
'What on earth. . . ?' She listened again, "You hear that Liz?"
"Hear what?" there it was again!
"That!"
"What? All I hear is music," Rhiannon listened again, and heard the music accompanying those horrible sounds. " 'Interstate Love Song', Stone Temple Pilots," Liz murmured.
"I know that!"
"Then what are you going on about?"
"They don't play that kind of music around here, especially at this time of day, only blues and country,"
"Well, maybe it's on the radio then. Come on, I want to get home. You know we're putting out a summer edition of the school paper first day back! I've got so much work to do! . . ." Liz walked off, and Rhiannon was about to follow when she heard it again. She knew her best friend had heard it, because she stopped dead in her tracks.
"Nobody screams at a radio," Rhiannon murmured. Grabbing her friend by the arm, Rhiannon ran down the pavement. She wasn't exactly a big fan of the Stone Temple Pilots, but she loved 'Interstate Love Song'; she crossed her fingers, hoping to find them playing on the balcony or just inside whatever bar they were playing at; where she might be able to get a look at them. Although, it didn't sound like it was a band playing. Rhiannon listened closer. No, it was a single guitar. Was a soloist playing on the balcony of one of the restaurants? She stopped, and Elisabette nearly slammed into the back of her.
"I know you like that song Rhee, jeez, but you didn't have to rip my arm out of the socket!"
"I don't think its them,"
"Surprise, surprise! Wouldn't you think I'd have heard about it if it was them? I am editor of the school newspaper and -"
"A member of every Stone Temple Pilots fan club there is!"
"You got that right!" Liz smiled.
"Yeah . . ." Rhiannon started to walk again; 'Interstate Love Song' had stopped and another song had started. She didn't even have to think to know what this one was.
'Of all songs on the face of this planet, I never thought I'd hear 'The Love You Save' played on Peoria Drive! But which place? What owner could afford to risk booking the second Jackson 5? I . . . Oh no!'
Of all the places in Brookside, there was only one place she knew that could risk having a pop band play. The Blue Rose.
"Ouch!" Liz yelped as her arm was pulled hard, forcing her to run with her best friend further down the road. "I knew I should have stayed home!" she muttered to herself.

"Can you see who they are?" Elisabette shouted over the noise of the crowd and the sound system. Still straining to get a glimpse over the sea of heads, Rhiannon shook her head. Looking at her watch, Liz sighed. It was getting late. "Do you think it's anyone we know?" she asked.
"I doubt it. Nobody I know sings that well," it was true. Rhiannon hadn't heard such a good voice since Michael Jackson singing on all those otherwise annoying Jackson 5 albums that her mother refused to stop playing.
'Along with Carlton and Rachael, we could probably recite the entire Jackson 5 discography alphabetically! That's sad. That is really sad!' she thought to herself.
Squeezing between the traffic-jam of bodies, the two girls managed to get a little closer.

"I can see them!" Liz spoke over the din. Peering through the gaps of a few heads, Rhiannon could only manage to get the back of a six-foot-something guy holding a camera.
"Who are they?"
"I . . . um . . ." Liz moved around a little bit more, then stopped. And started to laugh, "I should have known!"
"What? Do you know who they are?"
"Sure do! These guys that live down my street a bit; we sometimes go roller-blading together,"
"Do I know them?"
"They sang at my Mom's best friend's wedding. You remember them?"
"No,"
"Jeez Rhee! You were there, you spent the whole time just listening to them and you can't even remember!" Her chuckling petered out as she recalled why her best friend didn't - and never would - remember. "Sorry," Rhiannon just shook her head, brushing it off.
"Who are they?"
"Back then, they called themselves The Hanson Brothers, but now they're just Hanson," The name sent a hundred bells ringing in Rhiannon's head.
"Hanson? As in Isaac Hanson?" she asked. Liz's eyes widened so far she thought they might fall out of her skull.
"Then you do remem-"
"No. He's a friend of Carlton's,"
"Oh right," Turning back to the show, Liz tried to quell the little twang of guilt she felt. It happened every time. Every time she mentioned something they'd done together in the past, Rhiannon would give her that confused look that reminded her. Of the time she'd been forced to open her naïve eyes, forced to deal with things she didn't understand. Forced to grow up. They'd both been no more than 8 years old.
'If I went through all that, then what the hell did Rhiannon have to go through?'
What did she have to go through? What else did schizophrenia do to a person's mind?
'I don't want to know!'.

Hanson had finished their last song and the crowd had started to thin out. The guys thanked everyone for coming then started the long process of packing up their instruments - drums, guitar and keyboard - and the sound system; which was just mics and amplifiers. It was only then that Rhiannon got her first real look at them. Three guys, around the same ages as herself, her brother and her sister, with long blond hair. Another man, obviously their dad, was helping them load all the gear into a van parked near the collapsible stage. Two small girls were sitting on the warm bitumen beside the van, sharing a packet of chips and a lady carrying a baby on her hip was talking to Mr. Dittus, the owner of the Blue Rose Café. Besides them, Rhiannon and Elisabette were the only ones left in the parking lot.
"Do you wanna go say hi?" Liz said softly in her friend's ear.
"I don't know. They're your friends," then they heard a voice call out to them from across the sea of bitumen.

Tired by the long performance, Taylor dropped the amplifier cables he was carrying into a dirt brown milk crate - already half-filled - and pulled up his brother, Zac's, drum stool. Performances had never tired him out like this before. This time last year - way back when - he would have been off like a flash, chasing Zac around with a plastic sword. Now, now he didn't have the energy to move, let alone run after Zac.
'I must be getting old'
He was twelve after all.
'It won't be long before Mom and Dad'll have to find a retirement home for me!'
That got a smile. He could just imagine himself, the Terror of all the ancient bag ladies, cowering behind their napkins as he went past! Chasing the nurses in his motorised wheel-chair and whacking the old fogies over the head with his walking stick if they got in his way! What a sight that would be! They'd throw him out, then he'd just have to settle with chasing Zac around the house and driving his mother crazy with bored muttering that didn't make any sense! He chuckled.
'God, I'm an idiot!' he thought.
"Earth to Tay! Earth to Tay! Are you receiving?" the voice cut through Taylor's musings like a knife through butter. He hadn't realised he'd spoken out loud.
"Wha-? Huh?" looking around, he saw that it was Ike who'd called him.
"As if you don't talk in your dreams often enough at night, you have to do the same thing during the day!"
"I do not talk in my sleep!"
"You do too! You talk more than Zac some nights!"
"I do not!"
"Do too!"
"Not!"
"Do!"
"Not!"
"Do!"
"Not!"
"Boys! Enough!"
"Sorry Dad," they both said at the same time. Walker Hanson didn't even look up from loading the van with their equipment.
"How about instead of sitting there arguing, maybe you could give me a hand?" Walker suggested. Ike shrugged his shoulders and grabbed the drum stool. The only problem, Taylor was still sitting on it.
The boy went flying! Taylor landing heavily on his butt attracted their father's attention.
"Isaac!" Walker said sternly, looking up from the van. Bad sign.
"Sorry," unable to keep a small smile off his face, Ike helped his brother to his feet, passed his father the drum stool and then jumped off the three foot high stage. Brushing himself off, Tay noticed two figures . . . girls . . . standing in the parking lot. He squinted, trying to see who they were. Was that . . . yep, it was her.
"Hey Liz!" he yelled out across the parking lot.

"Hi Tay!" Elisabette called. Now it was her turn to grab Rhiannon's arm and run.
"Hi Liz! What are you doing here?" Taylor asked Liz, looking over her shoulder to try and see the other girl hiding behind her. A little hard since she was a good few inches taller than Elisabette.
"Rhiannon lives along here, we were just coming back from the pool," again Tay looked over his friend's shoulder at the tall girl. Her dark hair was almost as long as Liz's, and her even darker eyes were deep and mysterious. She was kind of pretty; in a weird sort of way.
"Hi," he said tentatively.
"Hi," she replied, just as tentatively.
"Rhee," Liz said, pulling her friend out from behind her, "This is Taylor Hanson. Tay, this is Rhiannon Lougher,"
"Nice to meet you," she murmured and smiled a little. This boy was kind of cute, in a girlish sort of way.
"Nice to meet you too," he smiled warmly back. Rhiannon's shyness initiated meltdown . . .

~ * ~
March, 1998
Tulsa, Oklahoma

"Tay? Tay? Taylor!"
"What?" Taylor jerked himself alert. What'd happened to the Blue Rose? Where was he? Where was Rhiannon? He blinked a few times and reality hit him like a wet towel. Rhiannon was dead, and he was at home with his demons -
"Taylor!" Speak of the devil . . .
"Yeah Ike?" pushing himself up, Tay swung his legs off the bed and stood up. As always, he remembered to duck, just in time to miss hitting his head on the boards supporting Ike's half of the bunk. Too busy trying to decide whether to wear the green shirt or the black one for his date with Tessa, Isaac didn't notice his brother pace the room a few times waiting for an answer. Quickly losing interest, he sat back down on the bed.
"Mom just asked you to get the door,"
"Oh," again Tay got up, and walked out of the room, but not before grabbing a book with a forest on the cover from inside his pillow case. He never went anywhere without that book. Ike didn't even see him leave, tossing aside both shirts and diving into their wardrobe to find another one.

The doorbell rang again. The sound was so impatient, demanding.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," muttering still, Tay opened the door.
"Hi Tay, I'm here to baby-sit,"
"Hi Liz, how is ya?" he opened the door wider and Elisabette walked in.
" 'Ya' is fine thank-you, how are you?" she asked, arching one eye-brow and trying not to laugh. Taylor just smiled; he'd forgotten his parents were going out that night. Of course, Ike had a date with Tessa - again! - and Zac was staying with one of his friends. Tay hadn't been looking forward to one of his parents' 'son-we-hate-to-do-this-to-you-we-know- it's-not-your-idea-of-how-to-spend-a-Saturday-night-but' speeches. At least he was free to do whatever he wanted; which was a toss-up right now between staying home and doing nothing or walking down to the church and trying to exorcise the words stuck in his head. He chose the former.

"Avie and Mackie are in the living room watching TV, Jessie's upstairs playing and Zoë's asleep. Bed-time's at 8:30, a little earlier for Mac, basically whenever he seems tired. Zac's at a friend's place tonight, so you don't need to worry about him; Ike'll be out for the night as well, I'm not sure what time he'll be back - Isaac?" Diana called up the stairs.
"He's already gone Mom," came Tay's voice in reply.
"Do you know what time he'll be back?"
"Somewhere between 10:00 and next century,"
"Expect Ike when you see him. Tay's obviously staying home," she raised her voice so it would carry into the living-room, where Taylor was sitting, "You have my permission to send him to his room if he misbehaves,"
"Real funny Mom!"
"Anyway," Diana turned back to Elisabette, who was softly chuckling.
'Parent humour' she thought.
"All the emergency numbers are on the fridge and by the phone, as usual. Walker and I should be home by 1:00, you know the routine. I think that's about it. Anything I've missed?"
"Not that I can think of,"
"Then I better get going. Any problems call me right away," hurrying towards the door, Diana called over her shoulder, "Bye kids!"
"Bye Mom!" the chorus of voices called back. The door shut. Liz smiled. She loved baby-sitting here. The little Hansons were more like little angels. But maybe that wasn't the only reason. Someone else was here too; someone she'd known so well . . . She sighed. What was the point?

Before going into the living-room, Elisabette quickly checked upstairs. Sleeping soundly, Zoë looked as if she were made of porcelain. So adorable. Tucking the blankets back around the tiny baby, Liz then checked in on Jessie, who was happily chatting to her Ballerina Barbie about one of the many practical jokes she and Rachael Lougher had played on Zac.
"And so Rachael and I hooked - Oh, hi Liz!" she said, a startled expression quickly turning into a smile.
"Hi Jess,"
"Have Mom and Dad gone?"
"Yeah,"
"Oh, okay," and with that, she returned to her conversation with Barbie. Chuckling, Liz shut the door and made her way back downstairs.

The sound of old Looney Tunes re-runs hit Liz's ears like an explosion. She walked into the living-room, resisting the urge to clamp her hands over her ears. Almost running to the lounge, she grabbed the remote from Taylor and lowered the volume a few hundred decibels.
"What do all those screaming teeny-boppers do to your hearing?"
"What?" he yelled, the big grin on his face giving him away.
"Ha, ha," Liz was about to sit down when she noticed hundreds of tiny bright blue dinosaurs munching on orange grass. Actually, it was Mackie in his pyjamas, asleep next to his big brother. Following her gaze, Tay smiled. Gently, he picked Mackie up and started for the stairs.
"Come on Mac, You're late for an appointment with your bed,"
"But I'm not tired, Taybear," Mackie murmured sleepily.
"Oh yes you are," and they left the room. Liz glanced at the clock on the wall - 8:17pm - then settled back to watch Wyle E. Coyote blast, pound and splatter the crap out of himself trying to catch Road Runner. It was amazing what kinds of senseless violence kids found amusing; she even found herself chuckling as Tweety Bird, quite unintentionally of course, dropped an anvil on Sylvester's head. The show was almost over when Avie climbed into Liz's lap and started playing with the long ash brown braid hanging over her shoulder.
"Your hair's almost as long as Mom's, Lizbet," Avery said, more to herself than Liz. 'Lizbet'; she hated that name with a passion, but not when it came from Avie or Mackie.
'Am I that much of a push-over?' she thought, 'Or maybe it's just them'
They did it to Tay as well. 'Taybear'; it was so cute! Yet God have mercy on anyone who called him that! Anyone except his youngest brother and sister. Avie grabbed Liz's wrist and stared at the hands and Roman Numerals on her watch.
"What time is it?"
"It's 8:35, time for bed,"
"No!"
"Unfortunately yes," grudgingly, Avie got up and started for the stairs.
"How come you and Tay get to stay up?"
"How old are you?"
"7,"
"How old are Tay and me?"
"15,"
"There's your answer," confused, Avie quietened, trying to figure out the 'answer'; Liz was trying to hold back a laugh.
'It works every time!'
Much to both girls' surprise, when they reached Avie and Jessie's room, they found Jessie already asleep, Ballerina Barbie at her side. Quiet as a mouse, Avery crept to her own bed and crawled under the blankets.
"Will you tuck me in Lizbet?" with an indulgent smile, Elisabette pulled the covers up and handed the little girl a furry stuffed elephant - her favourite toy.
" 'Night Lizbet,"
"Goodnight Avie," switching off the light, Liz shut the door to the girls' bedroom, turned, and slammed straight into Taylor, who was tip-toeing out of Mackie's room, finally having coaxed his young brother to sleep. Hurtled backwards, she frantically searched for something to hold her up, only managing to tip over a vase before falling and knocking Tay's feet out from under him. Just about to dive for the vase, Tay was flung forward, barely able to clasp his hands around the fragile object before landing heavily on his shoulder. Which had slammed heavily right into Elisabette's shin.
"Ow!"
"Sorry!"
"Get off me please," so he did, "Shit, that hurt!"
"At least we saved the vase," he said lightly, trying to laugh off the whole thing. The corners of her mouth curled up against her will. The bastard, he could always make her smile.
"First you try to knock me out, then you nearly break my leg, and all you can think about is your vase?" she didn't realise how loudly she'd spoken, or how loud they were both chuckling.
"Shh! Keep it down a bit, I only just got Mackie to slee-"
"Taybear?" came a muffled call from inside Mackie's room.
"Shit," Tay whispered and rested his forehead against the wall, trying to suppress his mirth. "Coming Mac," unsuccessful, he grinned and helped Liz to her feet. Not knowing what else to say, he just murmured,
"Sorry," and opened the door to Mackie's room.

Almost an hour later, Taylor wearily walked into the living room and collapsed onto the lounge.
"I assume Sleeping Beauty's touched his spindle?" Liz asked with a little grin on her face.
"What? Oh, yeah," he said, then rested his head back and closed his eyes.
"Anything the matter?"
"He's afraid of the dark," Tay didn't bother opening his eyes.
"Doesn't he have a lamp?"
"Busted,"
"Oh," there was a long silence. Since Taylor looked contented enough to crash for a few minutes, Liz returned to her book. It was a soppy, mindless romance novel, of which she had hundreds stashed away in a drawer under her bed.
'Absolute trash' she thought with a smile.

The kiss he stormed her lips was so burningly intense, it sent her mind reeling. A willing victim, she drowned in his arms, so strong and yet so gentle -
"Liz?"
"Huh?" jerked back to reality, Elisabette saw Taylor watching her intently, with a wicked grin on his face, "Sorry, what did you say?"
"I just asked if the book was any good. I'm not -" he sneaked a peak over her shoulder at the open page, "- interrupting anything am I?" embarrassed, she slammed the book closed and shoved it in her bag. She could hear Tay chuckling, which just made her even more embarrassed.
"Funny Liz, but I didn't quite picture you as a romance freak,"
"Romance novels are nothing but mindless trash,"
"Then why were reading one?"
"Because I happen to like mindless trash, do you have a problem with that?"
"None at all,"
"Good," they both waited for the other to say something.
"So, how's life?" Tay finally cracked the ice with the most-used conversation opener on the face of the earth.
"Oh pretty good. Hasn't been much going on lately. Everything's finished that has to be with the paper -" it hadn't taken Elisabette long to rise in the ranks of the school newspaper, "- so I've got time left to read,"
"Don't you ever do anything?"
"What do you mean 'do' anything?"
"I mean besides work, do you ever do anything?"
"What's there to do besides work?" when Rhiannon had . . . had . . . she'd taken everything even resembling Liz's social life with her. The girl had been a workaholic before, but now! She buried herself in work so she wouldn't have to be with people and become friends; she didn't trust them not to let her down. Or die on her.
"Well, everything," Tay mumbled.
"Like?"
"Don't you ever go to the movies, or the mall?"
"No,"
"Or hang out with your friends?" he asked gently. Liz scoffed.
"What friends? I've only got one, and she's dead," it was out. Spoken. Liz had just breached the 'Danger; Enter At Own Risk' subject. Rhiannon.
"I . . . um . . ."
"No, don't worry about it," embarrassed, Liz, looked at the blank TV screen.
"I'm your friend Liz, and I don't think I'm dead," it didn't help.
"I wasn't thinking . . . I . . . of course I've got some friends, we just don't do all that much. We're all really busy . . . yeah. Busy,"
"If you were that busy, you wouldn't have the time to be baby-sitting here on a Saturday night," Taylor said quietly.
"Um . . . uh . . ."
"I suppose you're busy tomorrow as well?" she made a great show of listing all the fictional things she had to do, "Too bad, I was going to ask if you wanted to come roller-blading, but since you're too busy, well . . ." now it was his turn to make a great show of acting all disappointed and sad. The shocked look on Elisabette's face almost did him in; it was times like this when photographers actually came in handy.
"Wait! If I can shuffle a few things around," she paused, as if deep in thought, "I might be able to scrape a few hours out tomorrow afternoon,"
Perhaps Rhiannon hadn't taken everything after all.

* * * *

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