Hmm… So I might have left this a bit too long. Almost 2 years too long. Oh well, I'm back, with 2 more years' worth of experience in writing. So it may be a little different, but it's still me, still the same ideas, still the same characters you know and love… hopefully.

Forgive me for being a little rusty.

Embry didn't like having James' hand atop of hers, but knowing she needed to hear what he had to say, she made the choice not to move it, to just go with whatever was happening. Against her chest was the pounding of her heart; over and over again, it slammed on her ribs. It was so loud, she was sure he would be able to hear it. But even if he could, James stayed calm. Remarkably so.

"I've been following Helen for years, since he very first went missing," James eventually said, breaking an awkward silence that had fallen over them both. Embry, who had previously fixed her eyes on her own bedsheets, looked up, still flinching at the resemblance between the boy sat in front of her and the boy she loved, who may or may not be dead. Like Helen, James' eyes were an icy-blue colour, with flecks of silver around the pupil. He hadn't noticed her staring, and continued his story. "We were 14. It was my fault… I'd got caught up in some business that I really shouldn't have. I owed someone money, money that I didn't have. The day I confessed to my brother, I expected him to be angry, but he wasn't. Instead he offered to help me, by selling his paintings."

James stopped talking. A few moments passed, during which Embry noticed how sweaty his hand was getting on hers. More than ever she wanted to move it, but she didn't. She had to listen. Strangely, James didn't seem upset when she looked at him, rather fascinated. "You paint?" He asked suddenly, looking towards her art room, with the door left open. Taken aback, Embry stumbled over her words.

"No, I mean… y-yes. I paint."

"I guess that helps explain it," James muttered, mostly to himself. Part of Embry desperately wanted to ask the question- 'explains what?' - but she had to let him keep talking. "We paid the money back in full. But for some reason, these people, they weren't happy with me. I became a target. They found me one night, in a park, starting beating the shit out of me. I was late home and Helen came looking for me. I shouted for him to stay away when I saw him."

"But he didn't," Embry cut in, already knowing where the story was going.

"Of course he didn't. He was so full of anger, so mad that even I was scared of him. One of the guys went to take him down, but Helen somehow beat him, took his knife, and the rest you can work out. By the time he was done, no one was alive, except me and him. I still remember the way he looked at me, with blood spattered everywhere- his clothes, his face… And all he said was 'let's go home.' But I couldn't. I was so shocked by what I had seen I ran, I called the police, which he heard me do. He ran after me calling my name but I couldn't stop." James broke off then. As he had spoken he had grown faster and faster, but now there were no words left. Finally, he lifted his hand off of Embry's.

She was shaken. The story hadn't come as much of a surprise; she always knew how it was going to end with dead bodies. But still. The thought of Helen as a normal boy, just trying to help his brother, but giving in to his murderous instincts made her shiver. What had turned him so dark? James took a breath, as though he was about to speak again. Embry focussed her attention back on him.

"Helen never came home that night. Within minutes of me walking into my house the police arrived and I had barely even had time to explain it to our parents. They were shocked to find the truth and had a hard time accepting it, but no one could deny what had happened. All throughout the following week they searched for him, but he just couldn't be found. The entire city was on red alert. Soon the news of murders in a nearby city came to light, and the police speculated it was him. But by the time they got there he had already gone. The murders moved across the country, with the smiley face starting to appear frequently. At first I wasn't sure it was him, but then I realised it was, of course it was. Because that smiley face, drawn in blood? It was the symbol of the gang I had become involved with." Embry listened carefully, surprised to hear about the deep meaning of Helen's… signature.

"So how come you're here?" She asked, curious now.

"Two years ago I decided to find him. I never forgave myself for how I reacted. I know I did the right thing, but I always felt as though I betrayed my brother, my twin. I searched up murders, finding one's that were signature of him, in Seattle. One night I just left; I couldn't say goodbye to my parents or they would I ask where I was going, and then they never would have let me go. It took me months to even get close to him. Every time I thought I was near I would find out about a kill somewhere else. Then one day I found him, just on the streets. He saw me at the same time I saw him, and he ran from me. That's how I know he blames me.

"After that he made himself harder to find, but I was getting good. I was predicting his movements, keeping up with them. At one point I considered giving up, but then he came here, and he didn't move on. I wanted to know why, so I searched for him, finding him walking towards the woods one night. I followed him to that cabin, but left before he saw me. Every night I would wait for him to return, and one night, he didn't. I started to think he had moved on when he emerged… with you. But I wasn't the only one watching. An old man with a dog saw you, and he called 911. And that's when I realised I was about to lose Helen, and that you were about to lose your life."

Another silence. This time Embry's mind was racing. How had Helen become so careless that he had been seen? Why had James made the cabin explode? "Carry on," Embry gasped out, needing to hear the end of this crazy story.

"I knew I had some time. I got hold of some gasoline and some matches and ran as fast as I could to the cabin, seeing the police were already there. Then Helen emerged, sprinting for his life, somehow dodging every shot fired in his way. I waited, then saw you run. By that point the police had all abandoned their post on the cabin to chase my brother, so it was easy to do what I had to do. I removed all evidence. And then I came after you."

"And here you are," Embry muttered. "Helen never told me he had a twin."

"That's because he hates me," James replied. "But he seems to quite like you, doesn't he?" Embry didn't know how to react to that. She supposed he was right. It was doubtful Helen had ever done this before, especially from the way he acted around her. "What's your name?"

"Embry," she replied. "But you can call me Em, for short. Helen does." James smiled.

After that, the two started to talk, the words flowing pretty seamlessly. It was strange how alike to Helen James was, and Embry found herself beginning to quite like the boy. He was charming. Just like his brother.

For the most part, James just seemed to want to know everything about Helen, and Embry told him as much as she could. She told him about how they had met, how Helen decided not to kill her, and how he didn't kill anyone the whole time he knew her. As she spoke she fiddled with the ends of her chestnut hair. When she mentioned Helen and his liking for cats, James told her all about the cats they had owned, and how they had one each. Helen's cat was called Mildred. Embry had laughed over that; who would expect a serial killer to have owned a cat called Mildred? James also wanted to see the sketchbook Helen had drawn in when he first spent the day in Embry's house. Embry was curious herself because she never actually saw what he had drawn.

Finding the sketchbook was easy. Helen had left it on the windowsill where he liked to sit, the same one he climbed through. Quickly she grabbed it, then came back to the bed to go through it. When she turned the page, she gasped. It was as though she was looking in a mirror. Helen had drawn her so perfectly, albeit in black and white, that she would be amazed if he hadn't of been watching her whilst he had drawn it.

"He must really like you," James commented, flipping the page to discover this was all that Helen had drawn. "To put himself in danger like he did, to stay here… You've changed him Embry. I can tell."

James left shortly after Embry made food for them both, promising to return the next day, even giving her his phone number. After he was gone, she realised how strange the whole situation was again, and how odd it was that they were already friends. Mason came home later, without Sam, thankfully, with the news that their parents were just going to stay the weekend with their Aunt, because they were having such a lovely time.

That night Embry slept with her window open. There was one thing to leave it unlocked, but leaving it open… it was out of hope. If Helen came by he would see it as an invitation. The only thing that kept her hopeful was the lack of news reports. If they caught him, it would be big news; it would be everywhere. So they clearly hadn't. Embry knew though, that even if Helen was safe, there was no way he was coming back here. Not unless…

Not unless she went with James to look for him.

Well there you go. Read and review please.

Lots of love and apologies (for not updating in so long).

TINT xxx