Lovelies! Thanks for the encouragement and support you guys have given to this story. I feel like I've exhausted all my energy trying to write this chapter, and I frankly feel unsatisfied but I promised you guys a update this week. I don't know when the writer's block would be removed but I'll try to find the time and rain juices to write this. So enjoy!

Chapter 1

What happened next seemed to be something entirely out of my imagination.

When I took the shot for Gatsby, I entirely expected angels, demons, loved ones who passed away to receive me, but oddly enough... there was no one. What I saw was just black abyss, I felt this perpetual dark void of vacuum sucking out any sensation I could feel. I can't feel or see anything- if this was the notion of death, I dread how my whole afterlife would be. A little part of me died when I realised that this was what the afterlife entailed- does that mean I would never get to see Gatsby again? Even as he withered away with age and found himself another Daisy, does this mean that he will never meet me again? Even in the afterlife?

Death never seemed lonelier than this.

Given that I have an infinite amount of time to spare, my dear reader, shall we begin to look back on how I began to meet the enigma of Gatsby?

The first time I've ever met Gatsby was during one of his lavish parties. I do not remember exactly how I arrived in this time continuum, or even how was it possible for time travelling to be possible back to the past rather than the present. My memory of my life before reaching here was vague, but I do recall watching the Great Gatsby and secretly hoping I could make a difference in changing the ending for him.

I wouldn't bore you with the tedious process of how I met and begged Nick to take me in his home while I find myself a job. I didn't have to stay with Nick for long before the invitation from Gatsby came through his butler. I knew that this was my opportunity to get close to Gatsby and possibly make a difference. So I went to Gatsby's party under the escort of Nick. I know this would probably sound like the approach a gold digger would use to trap a wealthy man, but I had no choice and connections here to reach him. He was much of an enigma as he is to anyone else except himself. Nick was the closest one I could ever get if I were to be able to make a difference in his life.

When I did attend the party with Nick, I was overwhelmed. Gatsby's parties were humongous- it was full of booze, crazy music, weed, and crazy people. This was just like the 1920s equivalent with my generation of people partying in dodgy clubs triggered by infinite supply of weed and booze. I followed Nick through the relentless stream of people, trying to find the supposed 'Gatsby' before we were met with Jordan Baker. There was little I could do to get Nick's attention back to finding Gatsby so I decided to leave the enamoured Nick to her and instead look blindly for Gatsby.

My search resulted in futility and I felt a wave of frustration spread through me as I realised that almost no one knew how Gatsby looked like- there seemed to be no interest in the host of these lavish parties except through hearsay. I groaned loudly as I walked out to the balcony and threw my high heels behind me. I heard a cry of pain as I saw a man with two parallel scratches on his face and my heels in his hands walking in my direction. I winced as he approached me with his eyebrows tightly knitted together. I almost wanted to start apologising furiously when his eyebrows soon straightened and his eyes filled with great mirth, "Good aim you have there, Miss."

And that was how I met the great Jay Gatsby.

To say that Jay Gatsby was worried about Katherine was a great understatement.

The instant he felt nothing when the gun flared, he knew something was terribly wrong. The next immediate thing he did was to check on Katherine- she was losing blood rapidly and had lost all consciousness. He yelled at the top of his lungs for his butler to fetch the doctor. The situation seems to be worsening as he felt Katherine getting colder and colder in his arms.

He felt a piece of his heart being tightly bound by a tight rope as he contemplated at the thought that Katherine would die soon. He never felt so lost in his life before, not even when he knew he got tricked of his fortune from the widow, not at the time when he knew Daisy got married, and not even when he realised that Daisy was never going to come after the accident. His arms tightened at the thought - somehow this was done to reassure himself that the tighter he held her the less he would lose her to the clutches of death.

His head spun as questions popped up. Why did he feel like he would lose his crutch to the meaning of this world if she were to die? Why did she take the shot for him? Why did he feel the heavy feeling of guilt and longing when he saw the expression on her face when he was with Daisy? Could it be that he was feeling something akin to love to her?

His eyes tightened to a resolve as he carried her firmly back to his house. He would not let-no, he would not allow her to die. Not when he has not cleared up his feelings of her. There were simply too many questions unanswered and he would not allow her to leave him before he could tell her how he felt.