Excellent Cadavers

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__<h1>Prologue: Dynasty</h1>__\ <h2>//__''1937. Somewhere in Southern Nevada.''__//</h2>\ The man spits out a glob of brown phlegm. He smacks his lips, his face grimacing as he feels how dry the inside of his mouth is. His companion grunts each time the shovel descends into that compacted, baked sand. The man holds out his hand, and his companion shakes his head, “I told ya. There is no mo’ left.” The man opens and closes his fingers, signifying to his companion that he prefers to corroborate that statement. ‘Gimme, gimme, gimme.’ His companion sighs but pulls off the strap from his shoulder and hands the canteen to his friend. The man untwists the metal cap and lifts the heavy water container to his dry and cracked lips. A single hot drop falls in between his yellowed teeth. The drop practically fizzles out on his sandpaper tongue. He lowers the canteen and hurls it away, “Cazzo!” His companion scowls and replies, “That was mine, compare. Ya already destroyed yaurs.” "//Yours, You,//" the man corrects him, a bead of sweat running in between his thin shoulder blades. His companion waves his hand to swat off his friend’s suggestion, “We are in America, yes? Land of many peoples like us.” “And you know what they do to people like us. We can’t give them more reason to hate us,” the man states. “Compare,” the companion says, astonished. “We are criminals.” [[◎ Page 2]]

<a data-passage="The Players">The Players</a> <a data-passage="You">You</a> <a data-passage="Romance Explanations">Romance Explanations</a> <a data-passage="Content Warnings">Content Warnings</a>

<h1>The Grecos</h1> \\ __<h2>Silvio Dante Greco</h2>__\ *Patriarch of the Greco family. A man better kept at arm's length. __<h2>Laura Priya Greco</h2>__\ *The mother of Dante. A woman in the shadow of her husband. __<h2>Carmen Alessia Greco</h2>__\ * The power-hungry daughter of Silvio Greco. Cunning, vengeful and gorgeous. * 26 years old in 1975 <div style="text-align:center;"> <img src="https://raw.githubusercontent.com/ragingviolets/images/main/IMG_3031.PNG" alt="Image" style="width:60%; border:10px solid white; border-bottom:30px solid white; box-shadow:0 4px 12px rgba(0,0,0,0.5);"> </div> __<h2>Dante Santino Greco</h2>__\ * The vicious son and heir of Silvio Greco. Violent, cruel and explosive. * 25 years old in 1975 <div style="text-align:center;"> <img src="https://raw.githubusercontent.com/ragingviolets/images/main/IMG_3001.PNG" alt="Image" style="width:60%; border:10px solid white; border-bottom:30px solid white; box-shadow:0 4px 12px rgba(0,0,0,0.5);"> </div> <h1>Luce's allies</h1> \\ __<h2>Lazlo Fischer</h2>__\ * Antonio's heir. Quiet, somber and decisive. * 22 years old in 1975 <div style="text-align:center;"> <img src="https://raw.githubusercontent.com/ragingviolets/images/main/IMG_3062.PNG" alt="Image" style="width:60%; border:10px solid white; border-bottom:30px solid white; box-shadow:0 4px 12px rgba(0,0,0,0.5);"> </div> __<h2>Charley Das</h2>__\ * Luce's bodyguard. Analytic, calm and quick. * 28 years old in 1975 <div style="text-align:center;"> <img src="https://raw.githubusercontent.com/ragingviolets/images/main/IMG_3068.PNG" alt="Image" style="width:60%; border:10px solid white; border-bottom:30px solid white; box-shadow:0 4px 12px rgba(0,0,0,0.5);"> </div> <<back>>

''Personality'' <<if $Grounded is undefined>>\ <<set $Grounded = 50>> <</if>> <<set _g = Math.clamp(Number($Grounded), 0, 100)>>\ <div class="balance-container"> <div class="balance-labels"> <span>Spoiled Rotten</span> <span>Grounded</span> </div> <div class="balance-bar spoiled"> <div class="balance-marker" @style="'left:' + _g + '%'"></div> <div class="balance-text"><<print _g>>%</div> </div> </div> ''Worldview'' <<if $Merciful is undefined>>\ <<set $Merciful = 50>> <</if>> <<set _m = Math.clamp(Number($Merciful), 0, 100)>>\ <div class="balance-container"> <div class="balance-labels"> <span>Ruthless</span> <span>Merciful</span> </div> <div class="balance-bar"> <div class="balance-marker" @style="'left:' + _m + '%'"></div> <div class="balance-text"><<print _m>>%</div> </div> </div> ''Weapons'' <<if $Guns >= 5>> __Guns:__ <span class="tier-high">Expert</span> <<elseif $Guns >= 3>> __Guns:__ <span class="tier-mid">Apt</span> <<elseif $Guns >= 1>> __Guns:__ <span class="tier-low">Beginner</span> <<else>> __Guns:__ <span class="tier-none">No skill</span> <</if>>\ <<if $Knives >= 5>>\ __Knives:__ <span class="tier-high">Expert</span> <<elseif $Knives >= 3>> __Knives:__ <span class="tier-mid">Apt</span> <<elseif $Knives >= 1>> __Knives:__ <span class="tier-low">Beginner</span> <<else>> __Knives:__ <span class="tier-none">No skill</span> <</if>>\ <<if $Fists >= 5>>\ __Fists:__ <span class="tier-high">Expert</span> <<elseif $Fists >= 3>> __Fists:__ <span class="tier-mid">Apt</span> <<elseif $Fists >= 1>> __Fists:__ <span class="tier-low">Beginner</span> <<else>> __Fists:__ <span class="tier-none">No skill</span> <</if>> ''Tactics'' <<if $Intimidation >= 5>> __Intimidation:__ <span class="tier-high">You’re terrifying</span> <<elseif $Intimidation >= 3>> __Intimidation:__ <span class="tier-mid">You can be scary</span> <<elseif $Intimidation >= 1>> __Intimidation:__ <span class="tier-low">You might get some hearts pumping</span> <<else>> __Intimidation:__ <span class="tier-none">No one is scared of you</span> <</if>>\ <<if $Cunning >= 5>>\ __Cunning:__ <span class="tier-high">The Pied Piper</span> <<elseif $Cunning >= 3>> __Cunning:__ <span class="tier-mid">Snake Charmer</span> <<elseif $Cunning >= 1>> __Cunning:__ <span class="tier-low">Low-level con artist</span> <<else>> __Cunning:__ <span class="tier-none">White lies</span> <</if>>\ <<if $Seduction >= 5>>\ __Seduction:__ <span class="tier-high">Casanova</span> <<elseif $Seduction >= 3>> __Seduction:__ <span class="tier-mid">Enticing</span> <<elseif $Seduction >= 1>> __Seduction:__ <span class="tier-low">Charming</span> <<else>> __Seduction:__ <span class="tier-none">Coasting on looks alone</span> <</if>> <<back>>

<div id="title-screen"> <h1>Excellent Cadavers</h1> <p>Click to continue</p> <p>Read the content warnings before playing</p> </div>

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<h2>//__''1977. Somewhere in Southern Nevada.''__//</h2>\ Heaving, you pull yourself out of the hole and slump down on the hot sand. Unbothered by the burning sensation on your cheek. You must look like a disaster, what’s a burn more? You blink through tired eyes at the rising sun. The colours in the sky are made of the most rich orange and yellow you've ever seen. It's so beautiful it makes you want to cry. It's not a bad place to die. Most involved in this business get far worse final images to look at. If they bury you here, no one would ever find you. It’s not like anyone would even come to bring flowers to your headstone, if your enemies even give you one. Well... Someone might. That is if they’re still coming. They could’ve betrayed you, just like the sad sack of shit lying face-down a few paces away. You can already smell the acrid odour of the decomposing flesh. A label added to the many labels tacked onto your person in the last two years. Murderer. It doesn't matter right now whether it was an accident or intentional. Even if you said sincerely that you, little Luce <<cycle '$surname' autoselect>><<option 'Altieri'>><<option 'Ricciardi'>><<option 'Leoni'>><<option 'Vinci'>><</cycle>>, <<cycle '$killer' autoselect>><<option 'killed someone by accident'>><<option 'killed someone in cold blood'>><</cycle>>, that is not why they are coming. You’re digging in the desert for a treasure buried forty years ago, next to a person you killed when, this time of the year before last, you were on a the top floor of a nightclub, thinking your life couldn’t get any better. If only your Pa could see you now. You laugh and laugh and laugh. [[◎ Page 3]]

<h2>//__''1937. Somewhere in Southern Nevada.''__//</h2>\ Splitting the sandwich through the middle, the companion hands the other half to the man. The man chews into the tasteless bread, slice of cheese and butter. It slowly climbs down his throat. They’re facing away from the sun, the heat at full force hitting their backs. His shoulders feel painful; it’s either from the shovelling or the sun, but perhaps both. His companion wipes his forehead with a soggy rag ripped from his sleeve. When the man feels the latest lump of food free itself from the molasses of his throat, he asks out loud, “What do you think about Frederico’s plan?” His companion slowly chews on his sandwich, his eyes squinting at the mountains before them. “I do not see the point if I am being... onesto,” he replies. The man doesn’t respond as quickly. He has thought the same. Frederico always talks about precautions and contingencies. The man throws the remainder of the sandwich into the hole. Standing up, he pulls his pants up by his belt and thinks. He looks at the view, from one corner to the next, until he figures out how he wants to say it. “What’s the point of being thieves if we can’t make use of the cash until ten years from now?” he complains in a monotone voice. “Fede has said it will be few months,” his companion counters. The man spits on the ground again to show what he thinks about that. His companion looks up at him, shielding his eyes from the sun. “What is ya thinking?” The man smiles. [[◎ Page 4]]

<h2>//__''1977. Somewhere in Southern Nevada.''__//</h2>\ You think you passed out because when you open your eyes once more, the sun seems lower than before. You pick yourself up, your wobbly knees making you fall to the side. You hiss as your hip bone bounces off a stone. “Damn desert,” you complain. You get up again and turn around in a circle. You squint against the approaching darkness at the edges of the sky for any sign of movement. Given your lack of luck, you don’t think your salvation is coming. The next person you’ll see will likely not be a friend to you. You press your palms to your temples. //How did I get here?// This isn’t what your life was supposed to be. Two years ago you should’ve graduated university and by now you should’ve been working an honest job. Now this. You weren’t supposed to be the one here. This was Andrea’s life. The guns, death, violence and fear were his inheritance. Or maybe you should go back further. You pace back and forth as you mentally speed through your family history. Your Pa. It started with him. If only he had stayed in Italy. //But then, I wouldn’t have been born.// Perhaps that would’ve been for the best. For everyone. [[◎ Page 5]]

<h2>//__''1937. Somewhere in Southern Nevada.''__//</h2>\ He waited until his companion was far away enough for his bathroom break to open the chamber of the gun and slide in one bullet. He closed it and put it back amongst his companion’s things. The guns they had weren’t stellar; they jammed, which is what led to the man getting a bullet right through his thigh a week and a half ago. It still hurts from time to time, the reminder of when a fuzz unloaded on him. ‘Protectors of the public,’ he thinks scornfully. More stray bullets from their side of the law killed more people in that bank than he or his two accomplices ever did. He pretended to be cleaning under his fingernails when his companion began walking back. “Ya think he will say yes?” the companion asks as he stoops to pick up his gun. The man feels for his gun tucked into the back of his belt and pulls it out. He rubs the almost worn-away initials. “Fede is a smart man, and he’s an impatient man. He’ll see that this is the best thing we can do for ourselves and our future children,” he persuades. His companion looks down at his own gun, doubt creasing his forehead. When he looks back up at the man, uncertainty spills from his eyes. “Why guns? We talk to him like compares, and I am sure he will say yes.” The man jerks his gun playfully to flip open the chamber. He shows his gun to his companion, “You see? It is not real. We aren’t going to do him like we did the coppers. It’s just for... to say that we mean business.” “Business...,” his companion echoes. The man nods encouragingly, his heartbeat exulting from the anticipation of his triumph. [[◎ Page 6]]

<h2>//__''1977. Somewhere in Southern Nevada.''__//</h2>\ You shove your things into your backpack. Carefully, slowly. You run your hands through your hair, feeling the sand glide through your fingers. You dust off your clothes. The last trickles of water from your bottle clean up your bloody hands. You look at the body and grab it by the feet. You grunt as you grab-walk backwards, straining to drag the corpse with your sore arms. All those months of athleticism from running—wasted. Wasted in service of a single night looking for bullshit in the wrong place. It makes you want to laugh again. You press your lips closed and give one more heave before stopping at the hole’s edge. Crouching down and laying your hands on your thighs, you look down into the darkness. “Good enough place for two, right?” you say to no one in particular. Your voice comes out breathy, like you’re whispering into a lover’s ears. “Another life.” Great, now you’ve started talking to yourself. Completely buggin'. You grab your victim by the armpits and clumsily bend the body at the waist; after that, you basically push your buddy head-first into the grave. They hit the bottom with a thump. All in all, it’s not the smoothest work you’ve done. You take out your gun from your waistband and switch off the safety. Feeling its weight in your hand, you pause for a moment. You look up at the horizon once more, the sun breaking majestically on the Earth’s horizon. Then you raise the gun and <<cycle '$sewerslide' autoselect>><<option 'point it at your temple.'>><<option 'put it in your mouth.'>><</cycle>> [[◎ Page 7]]

<h2>//__''1937. Somewhere in Southern Nevada.''__//</h2>\ Federico came when he promised he would. At three o’clock, the men saw his truck in the distance, its vibrant colour making it stand out from the mirage. They waited a few feet apart. The man was calm, his face a perfect picture of camaraderie. However, the nervous energy could be felt coming from his companion. The man shot him a scathing look, but his companion was staring straight ahead at the oncoming truck. The truck came to a crawling stop, almost touching the men’s knees. Fede had both his hands on the wheel and slowly looked from the man to his companion. He made no move to come out. “Fede, did you bring the water?” the man asks in a friendly tone. The man he addressed nods once. He doesn’t move to show the water or the food he was also requested to bring. He stares intently at his two friends. He glances at the door lock. The man sees it but still says with the same calming countenance, “Aren’t you going to come out?” “What’s wrong with our friend?” Fede asks, speaking of their companion. The man doesn’t take his eyes off the prize. “He’s just a little jittery,” the man replies. “The sandwich did him bad.” Fede slips one hand off the wheel, and by the bend of his elbow, the man knows what he’s reaching for. “Is there something on your mind, compare?” Federico asks the man. The man rapidly raises his gun and points it directly at Fede’s forehead. Fede takes out his gun and points it at the man, and their companion quickly follows the man’s example. “As a matter of fact, there is,” the man says, a cold smile stretching to terrifying proportions on his face. [[◎ Page 8]]

<h2>//__''1977. Somewhere in Southern Nevada.''__//</h2>\ Taking a deep breath, you hook your finger around the trigger and feel it ready to press in. When you’re moments from death, you don’t think of all the seconds of your life in a quick whirlwind that prevents you from lingering on any powerful memory, like the day your brother died, the day you went into your father’s office, the day you saw someone die for the first time, the day someone died because of your actions nor the day you met the love of your life. No, none of that jazz. You think of the situation you’re in right now; you think of all the times you’ve been scared like this. Scared to death. And one final scare for the road. 3... 2... 1... “You’re not gonna let me do the honours, foxy?” a voice that has followed you in your nightmares cuts through the dry air. You whirl around and lower the gun. Holding it in a death grip. You let out a gasp, “How...” “Did I find you?” You can’t even find it in yourself to say the words or nod. Your murderer tsks, tsks, tsks. Lifting the gun, you get your reply. “Oh—” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Girl names.]] [[Boy names.]] [[Create your own.]]

<<textbox '$name' ''>><center> [[◎ Page 9]]</center>

“—$name $surname, I was always going to.” Then, would you look at that, you’re shot at point-blank range. [[◎ Page 10]]

<h2>//__''1937. Somewhere in Southern Nevada.''__//</h2>\ Fede fumbles with the door handle. His eyes don’t dare to look away from his two compares. Ungraciously getting out of the truck, he keeps his body shielded by the door and lays the barrel on the window sill. The man takes a step closer, and Fede cocks his gun. Beads of sweat roll down the side of his face, and he says gravely, “You were planning this all along.” Their companion answers before the man can, “No! No, we were not, he justa told me of idea now. We do not wanna hurt ya, ya no wanna hurt us. Let us all lower guns now.” His companion lowers the gun by mere inches. He looks anxiously from Fede to the man, not knowing who to look at for guidance. “Compare, he reached for his gun first, and I was quick enough to get mine. You cannot trust him. He’ll kill us and take the prize for himself,” the man assures. Fede exclaims, “It’s you two rats who betrayed me! I did you so many favours. I planned the robbery! All of this for you to spit in my face?! Ungrateful greaseballs!” His companion looks at him, a fearful question in his eyes. The man nods once, and the companion raises his gun again. The three men feel their pointer fingers pressing their triggers in. Three shots ring out in the desert and echo off the mountains to only one witness. [[◎ Page 11]]

<h1>Chapter One: Tesoro, sii forte</h1>\ \ The Cosa Nostra was everything. It meant money to some and power to others; but everyone unequivocally agreed that at its core it was about family. There are two types of families in the underworld of the American Mafia. The one that you’re born into and the one you create. The one you laugh at a table with during Christmas dinner and the one you dispose a body with. Light and shadow. Good and evil. Love and fear. During the heyday of the Mafia as we know it, racketeering, extortion, bootlegging and gambling were the main activities the mob engaged in and died for. Some died in a blaze of gunfire like Bugsy Siegel, while others died of diseases best left unknown in their circles to preserve their memories like Al Capone. Unlike petty criminal organizations before it, the American Mob had a code—laws that they abidded by to maintain a sense of order and honour. //Omerta// above all. Drugs were left to the Latin Cartels, officially. Hierarchy was respected and for the Five Families, only an Italian could ever be the Boss. But the times of Prohibition and the red scare were long over. The world was changing and you either keep up or die. By the 70s, enemies are coming in at all sides, and the Cartels are inching closer and closer to the abundant power they would achieve in the 80s. Gerald Ford is president, inflation is at an all time high, while poverty rose and wages struggled to keep up. Gas was an expensive and sought out commodity. New York City was dirty and dangerous. The FBI is arresting mafiosos left and right, who then turn informants, dismantling family dynasties. The DEA is sure heroin is being distributed through obscure channels. It is in this moment, the final death rattle of the Old World and the first cry of the New World, where you wake up from a long slumber. [[◎ Page 12]]

<h2>//__''New Year’s Eve 1974''__//</h2><<audio "saturday" loop play>>\ It’s hot in here. In spite of the glass doors of the terrace being flung open by your request, it’s still very hot. You thought the location and view were slammin’ enough to avoid people leaving. It worked. You weren’t known for your parties for nothing. You raise your arms over your head, the shoulders underneath your frame acting as seats as everyone dances around you, following your lead. “WOOOOO!” you scream and take a sip of your drink. Someone holds out a microphone from the crowd and you take it. “How’s everyone doing tonight?!” you scream. They all scream back noises that are party codes for <span class="tooltip">GROOVY!<span class="tooltiptext"> <span class="tooltip-title">GROOVY</span> Cool; Great; Excellent. Particularly popular in the 70s. Went out of favour in the 80s. </span></span>! “AND HOW ARE WE GOING TO WELCOME IN THE NEW YEAR?!” “BY <span class="tooltip">BOOGYING<span class="tooltiptext"> <span class="tooltip-title">BOOGYING</span> Dancing; particular to disco. </span></span>!” they scream back. You throw your glass on the floor and the rest follow. The person who’s holding you up twirls you around. You open your arms and bask in the sounds. The sweat pearling at the nape of your neck. The smells of dope, alcohol, cheap perfumes, hairspray, the glitter around your eyes, the music so loud you feel it in your marrow. This is what life is about. What your life is and if you can help it—will forever be. After a few more dances, you drop down, using the heads of the people nearest to you as things to hold onto as you land on the dance floor. You push your way out of the dancefloor and slam the surface of the bar. The bartender stares icily at you. “Water, now,” you say. He glares at you further and you snap your fingers. He reluctantly slams a glass in front of you and pours you water from a plastic bottle. You take it before he finishes, letting the rest of the bottle spill on the counter. You turn your back to him and drink until it’s empty. [[◎ Page 13]]

People wave you over to the floor but you hold up a finger. You lay against the bar, arms crossed and looking at your domain. The kids from school are groovin’ on the LED dance floor. Their chunky heels and boots slide to the left and the right. The air smells of smoke as a few people light up at random times. Girls come out of the bathrooms wiping their noses. You promised the owner you wouldn’t bring the good stuff, not that others wouldn’t. “Where’s my Luce?” a sing-song voice asks in the cramped crowd ahead of you. You see a small, tanned-skin girl struggle her way out from between the moving bodies. You grin as she stumbles in front of you, her drink slightly spilling on her hand. She swipes her hair back and smiles brightly at you. “What’s crackin’ my...” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[sista?”|◎ Page 14][$cisf to true]] [Cis female] [[sista?”|◎ Page 14*][$transf to true]] [Trans female] [[brotha?”|◎ Page 14][$cism to true]] [Cis male] [[brotha?”|◎ Page 14*][$transm to true]] [Trans male] [[homie?”|◎ Page 14*][$nbf to true]] [Non-binary afab] [[homie?”|◎ Page 14*][$nbm to true]] [Non-binary amab]

Marcela pushes up next to you, and you can smell the stench of spiced rum in her mouth. You chuckle and steady her. “It’s <span class="tooltip">copacetic<span class="tooltiptext"> <span class="tooltip-title">COPACETIC</span> Unknown origin; it means good, fine. </span></span>. You look like you’re having a great time,” you note. She nods enthusiastically. “You do know how to throw a party, darling.” Marcela hands you her drink, and you put it on the counter. The bartender grumbles, something he’s been doing all night. For fuck’s sake, some people hate to work. “Where are all these hot men when we’re in class?” she slurs. “It might be the cups you have on you that make them look far too attractive,” you say jest cruelly. You look around, curling your nose at the thick forest on a cat’s back. “Trust me, some people don’t deserve to insult us with their faces.” “Nah, I’m sound. Boys just decided to shower,” she hiccups. <<if $cisf>>“You look fabulous as always.”<<elseif $transf>>“You look fabulous as always.”<<elseif $cism>> “Present company excluded.”<<elseif $transm>>“Present company excluded.”<<elseif $nbf>>“You look groovy.”<<elseif $nbm>>“You look groovy.”<</if>> “As if I’d be caught dead looking less than this,” you gesture to your face and down your body. “Attention whore,” she jokes. [[◎ Page 15]]

“My father would call it ‘being a presentable member of society,’” you mimic his stern voice and clasp your hands in front of you as he always does. “Hahaha,” she laughs. “Speaking of...” she turns you around, her hands on your shoulders. “When the heck will I get to meet your family?” she asks, swaying. You grab onto her arm to keep her upright. “Marcey, I told you—” “That your family is very busy, yadda yadda yadda,” she interjects with an eye roll. “But, like, they have never come here! Every holiday, every summer, you always go back to New York. Are they gonna be here for graduation? Or, like, will they be too busy?” You roll your eyes. Your friends have been harping on you about this for the last four years. You thought being in a different country meant a different life. But there are always the questions. Who’s your dad? What does he do for work? Do you have any siblings? “It’s just fuckin’ weird that your dad is, like sooooo rich, but we haven’t ever heard of him,” she continues. Oh, but they have. They know him by another name. The Casino King. A title he earned by being the owner of numerous successful casinos in Nevada, California, Miami and New York. No serious legal organization has ever been able to link Antonio $surname to that moniker, but it’s practically an open secret that his fortune is not clean; it’s just not known how dirty. Unlike the other families, your Pa has only ever stuck to gambling. [[◎ Page 16]]

Marcela looks at you expectantly. You sigh heavily and say, “My dad...” //Choose the country where your university resides.// <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[England.|◎ Page 17][$england to true]] [[Italy.|◎ Page 17][$italy to true]] [[France.|◎ Page 17][$france to true]] [[Germany.|◎ Page 17][$germany to true]] [[Spain.|◎ Page 17][$spain to true]] [[Sweden.|◎ Page 17][$sweden to true]]

<<if $england>>\ “...hates England. Hates the weather, the food, the accents. Everything. He's the type of guy who would rather drive than fly anywhere,” you lie. Although it is true he hasn’t been too fond of England since you’ve been here. He wanted you to study closer to home.<<set $countrystudying to 'England'>> <<elseif $italy>>\ “... kind of hates Italy and is the type of guy who would rather drive than fly anywhere,” you lie. Although it is true he’s lost a little bit of love for Italy since you’ve been here. He wanted you to study closer to home even if your choice was his home country.<<set $countrystudying to 'Italy'>> <<elseif $france>>\ “...hates France. Hates the weather, the food, the accents. Everything. He's the type of guy who would rather drive than fly anywhere,” you lie. Although it is true he hasn’t been too fond of France since you’ve been here. He wanted you to study closer to home.<<set $countrystudying to 'France'>> <<elseif $germany>>\ “...hates Germany. Hates the weather, the food, the accents. Everything. He's the type of guy who would rather drive than fly anywhere,” you lie. Although it is true he hasn’t been too fond of Germany since you’ve been here. He wanted you to study closer to home.<<set $countrystudying to 'Germany'>> <<elseif $spain>>\ “...hates Spain. Hates the weather, the food, the accents. Everything. He's the type of guy who would rather drive than fly anywhere,” you lie. Although it is true he hasn’t been too fond of Spain since you’ve been here. He wanted you to study closer to home.<<set $countrystudying to 'Spain'>> <<elseif $sweden>>\ “...hates Sweden. Hates the weather, the food, the accents. Everything. He's the type of guy who would rather drive than fly anywhere,” you lie. Although it is true he hasn’t been too fond of Sweden since you’ve been here. He wanted you to study closer to home.<<set $countrystudying to 'Sweden'>> <</if>>\ She looks at you like she doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, but thankfully, she lets it go. “At least that hot brother of yours could visit,” she says with a mischievous smile. You roll your eyes and throw her hands off of you. “Gross.” She laughs. “I’m sorry, Luce, but, like, from that picture you have? That boy is gorg, admit it.” <<if $lazloIncest>>\ That word: brother. He is that. Everyone says so and you do agree. But it’s hard to sometimes still think of him like that, and yet you can’t think of him as not yours. Not your brother. It always gets you in a bad mood. You were happier when Lazlo was a friend. It had less complications. To him you’re just like Bianca, a $sibling he needs to protect. And you can never decide whether you like that or not. Depends on the day. <<else>>\ You wrinkle your nose. “He’s a square and my brother.” The word sounds foreign in your mouth. You picture Lazlo’s face in your mind, and it doesn’t feel familiar at all. <</if>>\ “Adoptive brother. And not even that, he just lives with your parents. If I had a guy that looked like that and who lived in my house, ufffffff,” she bit her lip teasingly. <<if $lazloIncest>>\ You glare at her. “Don’t say that.” Her smile slips. “I was just kidding, Luce.” “I don’t care. That’s my brother you’re talking about so watch your fucking mouth,” you snap. She clears her throat. “Sorry, I didn’t think you cared that much about him.” You puff your cheeks up and then reply, “I don’t care.” Your eyes are firmly on the dance floor. You just know the look she’s giving you. “Ok, you don’t care.” “Yep. Anyway, he’s not into women. So tough luck. He’s married to his job,” you claim. “Oh, a working man,” she says. You narrow your eyes at her again and she holds her hands up in surrender. “Ok, no more about your brother.” <<else>>\ You throw your head back and laugh. She does too. <</if>>\ Then she bumps her elbow with yours and lowers her voice. It takes on a tone that sounds far more sincere than you are used to, it makes you squirm a bit. “How are you?” You snort. “I’m stellar. Why do you look like a concerned mom?” She sticks out her tongue at you. “I’m serious, Luz. I feel like you never want to just stop and talk. It’s always go, go, go with you.” You give her a strange look. “So? Is that //so// bad? What’s the point of life if not to have fun? To do things? I’m not going to be one of those fucking losers who sits in their room, wallowing in their own miserable life. This world is what you make it. If you want to be a sad loser, then that’s your prerogative.” Marcey quirks an eyebrow at you. ”You know, yours in the perfect case study in someone who has maladjustment issues, avoidant behavioural patterns and a neurotic need for utter control, but hides it behind a mask of being utterly chill.” You scoff, ”Whatever that means. This is why I hate psychology and I don’t think it’s real. Apparently, everyone has a disorder now. That’s just how therapists make the big bucks. Scam artists.” Marcey looks down at her drink. You look at her and it dawns on you what you just said. She wants to be a therapist. You roll your lips. It’s the truth. You can’t take it back and she knows you adore her. You bump her shoulder a few times and she reluctantly smiles. [[◎ Page 18]]

“TWENTY MINUTES!” a girl with a gold party hat yells atop a table. You peek at your watch and look over your shoulder at the bartender. “Get the champagne from the freezer,” you order. The bartender gives you the stink eye, and you give him the middle finger. He throws a dirty dishcloth over his shoulder and pushes the backdoor to the kitchen open. “Touchy, touchy,” you say with a snort to Marcela. “Huh?” “I said—” The record changes and a song from the Jackson 5 vibrates throughout the club. People start screaming, and Marcela screeches right next to your ear. You try to cover it, but she grabs your hand and drags you down to the dance floor. “I LOVE THIS SONG!” she yells over the music. She shoves people aside and leads you to the most congested part of the floor. She starts shimmying, and you smile. You look up at the glittering disco ball. The light shows off your outfit, which you chose with special care tonight, because if anyone is going to rival the ball tonight, it’s going to be you. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[A gold backless sequin dress and tall chunky heels|◎ Page 19][$clothesg to true]] [[A plunging red one-piece and white bell-bottoms with tall chunky boots|◎ Page 19][$clothesr to true]] [[A velvet purple buttoned flowy shirt with black bell-bottoms|◎ Page 19][$clothesp to true]] [[A baby blue buttoned shirt with matching blue trousers|◎ Page 19][$clothesb to true]]

<<if $clothesg>>You shine as much as the disco ball. Your skin is accented with glitter and the gold jewellery only adds to the brillance.<<elseif $clothesr>>You look like a stone cold fox. Your skin is accented with glitter.<<elseif $clothesp>>You’re dressed to dance, a master of the floor. Your layering of silver necklaces only adds to your suave. Glitter near your eyes.<<elseif $clothesb>>Your shirt is unbuttoned enough to allow sight of your gold chains encrusted with diamonds. Glitter near your eyes.<</if>> You look so groovy and you can see the admiring looks directed at the rest of you. It makes you feel good. It’s like you’re at the top of the world. You start dancing, going with the hustle. <<if $england>>Disco has gotten pretty groovy since you’ve been in university. You’ve danced on hundreds of dance floors throughout your time in London.<<elseif $italy>>Disco has gotten pretty groovy since you’ve been in university. You’ve danced on hundreds of dance floors throughout your time in Rome.<<elseif $germany>>Disco has gotten pretty groovy since you’ve been in university. You’ve danced on hundreds of dance floors throughout your time in Berlin.<<elseif $france>>Disco has gotten pretty groovy since you’ve been in university. You’ve danced on hundreds of dance floors throughout your time in Paris.<<elseif $spain>>Disco has gotten pretty groovy since you’ve been in university. You’ve danced on hundreds of dance floors throughout your time in Madrid.<<elseif $sweden>>Disco has gotten pretty groovy since you’ve been in university. You’ve danced on hundreds of dance floors throughout your time in Stockholm.<</if>> You’d say you’re a <<cycle '$dancer' autoselect>><<option 'great dancer'>><<option 'competent dancer'>><<option 'creative dancer'>><</cycle>>. But the cool thing about disco is that it’s such good vibes that no one cares how you get your boogie on. As long as you get it on. As long as you’re sexy and you know it. [[◎ Page 20]]

You let yourself go with the rhythm of the music. It’s hypnotizing. It’s not strange to lose track of the hours; many find themselves here until sunrise. You and Marcela join hands and try your best to spin in the crowded space. You bump into people and fall into fits of laughter. You’re going on a disco swing with her when you feel arms around your waist. You’re about to turn around and punch their daylights out when you look behind you and see Sam. <<if $cisf>>\ He smiles at you. He’s wearing a burgundy swede long-sleeved shirt. Something you gave him. His dirty blond hair is gelled back from his forehead. Your future husband-to-be.<<set $sam to "masc">> <<elseif $transf>>\ He smiles at you. He’s wearing a burgundy swede long-sleeved shirt. Something you gave him. His dirty blond hair is gelled back from his forehead. Your future husband-to-be.<<set $sam to "masc">> <<elseif $cism>>\ She smiles at you. She’s wearing a burgundy swede wrap dress you bought her. Her dirty, long blonde hair lies loose down her shoulders. Your future wife-to-be.<<set $sam to "fem">> <<elseif $transm>>\ She smiles at you. She’s wearing a burgundy swede wrap dress you bought her. Her dirty, long blonde hair lies loose down her shoulders. Your future wife-to-be.<<set $sam to "fem">> <<elseif $nbf>>\ He smiles at you. He’s wearing a burgundy swede long-sleeved shirt. Something you gave him. His dirty blond hair is gelled back from his forehead. Your future husband-to-be.<<set $sam to "masc">> <<elseif $nbm>>\ She smiles at you. She’s wearing a burgundy swede wrap dress you bought her. Her dirty, long blonde hair lies loose down her shoulders. Your future wife-to-be.<<set $sam to "fem">> <</if>>\ Your friends thought you were crazy to get engaged so soon before graduation. You told them it’s because you were in love. <<set $samP to $samPronouns[$sam]>> And that’s... <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[True|◎ Page 21][$lovesam to true]] [[A lie|◎ Page 21*][$nolove to true]]

You met Sam the first week of school, and you just clicked. It was like you had known each other all your lives. Your father wasn’t so happy about the engagement announcement. He didn’t trust Sam, and that hasn’t changed so far. It doesn’t help that Sam doesn’t come from money. If that were the case, your Pa might’ve been more accepting. He told you he didn’t want you marrying ‘a freeloader.’ <<if $sam is "masc">>\ You lay your arms around his and give him a quick peck. “Hey, baby.” “Hey,” he says. You turn around and throw your arms around his neck. “I didn’t think you’d make it,” you state. He checks the time. “Me neither. The traffic in this city is bad. But I’m here five minutes before the countdown. That’s all that matters, Luce.” “Stellar,” you say sincerely. The song changes to something slower, and people start pairing up. “I’ll leave you two love birds to it,” Marcela interjects, shoots Sam a smile of ‘hello’ and goes off. “Let’s jive?” he asks. You take his hand. <<elseif $sam is "fem">>\ You lay your arms around hers and give her a quick peck. “Hey, baby.” “Hey,” she says. You turn around and throw your arms around her waist. She slides her arms up around your neck. “I didn’t think you’d make it,” you state. She checks the time. “Me neither. The traffic in this city is bad. But I’m here five minutes before the countdown. That’s all that matters, Luce.” “Stellar,” you say sincerely. The song changes to something slower, and people start pairing up. “I’ll leave you two love birds to it,” Marcela interjects, shoots Sam a smile of ‘hello’ and goes off. “Let’s jive?” she asks. You take her hand. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 22]]

You met Sam in the first week of school. It wasn’t anything special. You’d thought that at least Sam would make a good friend. But your father saw it differently. Sam’s family owns a line of cruise ships that is particularly interesting to your Pa. He arranged it, and you said yes because he asked you to, not because you felt anything resembling love for Sam. That has never changed, no matter how hard you try. <<if $transm>>\ You had tried to convince him it wouldn’t work because you two realistically didn’t have the equipment to make a kid. Pa had said times were changing and you didn’t necessarily need children anymore to keep an alliance. It was all about appearances, and you looked like a man thanks to no expense spared by Papa dearest. <<elseif $transf>>\ You had tried to convince him it wouldn’t work because you two realistically didn’t have the equipment to make a kid. Pa had said times were changing and you didn’t necessarily need children anymore to keep an alliance. It was all about appearances, and you looked like a woman thanks to no expense spared by Papa dearest. <<else>>\ You had pretended to cry to get your Pa to reconsider, but you thought the old man had finally caught on to your tactics. You would have felt impressed—since you thought you were so good at it—if it hadn’t fucked you over in that moment when you needed it most. <</if>>\ <<if $sam is "masc">>\ You gently take his arms off of you. His smile drops a bit, and you try to give him a smile that feels more uncomfortable than it looks. There’s an awkward moment before Marcela comes in between the two of you and gives Sam a quick hug. Then, hugs your arm. “Thought you weren’t coming, slick. Luce was worried sick,” Marcela claims. She looks at you and elbows you in the ribs to talk. “Sure,” you say half-heartedly. Sam doesn’t look like he believes that as he checks his watch. “Me neither. The traffic in this city is bad. But I’m here five minutes before the countdown, that’s all that matters. I hope my absence didn’t hurt you too much.” You don’t miss the coldness at the end of his words, and you’re torn between voicing your indignation and kicking him out. “Stellar,” you say in monotone. The song changes to something slower, and people start pairing up. “I’ll leave you two love birds to it,” Marcela interjects. She pushes you toward Sam and goes off. “Can we dance?” he asks. You allow him to take your limp hand. <<elseif $sam is "fem">>\ You gently take her arms off of you. Her smile drops a bit, and you try to give her a smile that feels more uncomfortable than it looks. There’s an awkward moment before Marcela comes in between the two of you and gives Sam a quick hug. Then, hugs your arm. “Thought you weren’t coming, slick. Luce was worried sick,” Marcela claims. She looks at you and elbows you in the ribs to talk. “Yeah,” you say half-heartedly. Sam doesn’t look like she believes that as she checks her watch. “Me neither. The traffic in this city is bad. But I’m here five minutes before the countdown, that’s all that matters. I hope my absence didn’t hurt you too much.” You don’t miss the coldness at the end of her words, and you’re torn between voicing your indignation and kicking her out. “Stellar,” you say in monotone. The song changes to something slower, and people start pairing up. “I’ll leave you two love birds to it,” Marcela interjects. She pushes Sam towards you and goes off. “Can you at least dance with me?” she asks. You take her limp hand. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 22]]

<h2>//__''1962-1971''__//</h2><<audio "saturday" stop>>\ When you were 10, you were kidnapped. Your Pa didn’t own Miami like he does now, but he wanted to, and that was enough. Your family lived as normal as you could without bodyguards. It seems rather naive now, but it was the ’60s, and there were still remnants of that old honour from the time of Capone, Dillinger, and Lucky Luciano. Family was sacred; it wasn’t to be touched. Miami was then run by two bosses, Eddie “Silver-eyed” Bozzi and Michele Farrugia. The former owned much of North Miami and a small portion of Miami Springs, while the latter had everything south of the Blue Lagoon. Silver-eyed Bozzi folded after a meeting with your father. Farrugia was much more stubborn and reportedly flipped his shit when your father gave him the price he was willing to pay for the southern portion. Your Pa tried to court him. He was offered meetings with arms dealers like Sam Cummings, who had struck gold with his contribution to the Bay of Pigs. Or making him rub elbows with judges he had in his pocket. But Farrugia had his pride. [[◎ Page 23]]

<<if $cisf>>\ You and your older brother, Andrea, were playing in the park within view of your house. Andrea didn’t like Miami; he hated the heat, while you were just excited to be on ‘vacation.’ He was also 12, and at that age, all he wanted was to hang out with his friends, not his younger sister. <<elseif $cism>>\ You and your older brother, Andrea, were playing in the park within view of your house. Andrea didn’t like Miami; he hated the heat, while you were just excited to be on ‘vacation.’ He was also 12, and at that age, all he wanted was to hang out with his friends, not his younger brother. <<elseif $transf>>\ You and your older brother, Andrea, were playing in the park within view of your house. Andrea didn’t like Miami; he hated the heat, while you were just excited to be on ‘vacation.’ He was also 12, and at that age, all he wanted was to hang out with his friends, not his younger brother. <<elseif $transm>>\ You and your older brother, Andrea, were playing in the park within view of your house. Andrea didn’t like Miami; he hated the heat, while you were just excited to be on ‘vacation.’ He was also 12, and at that age, all he wanted was to hang out with his friends, not his younger sister. <<elseif $nbf>>\ You and your older brother, Andrea, were playing in the park within view of your house. Andrea didn’t like Miami; he hated the heat, while you were just excited to be on ‘vacation.’ He was also 12, and at that age, all he wanted was to hang out with his friends, not his younger sister. <<elseif $nbm>>\ You and your older brother, Andrea, were playing in the park within view of your house. Andrea didn’t like Miami; he hated the heat, while you were just excited to be on ‘vacation.’ He was also 12, and at that age, all he wanted was to hang out with his friends, not his younger brother. <</if>>\ You saw the men driving around in a car a few times, but you didn’t think much of it because Andrea was pulling your hair. It wasn’t until you were grabbed off the swing that you looked over to see Andrea kicking at another man who was covering his mouth and dragging him towards the car. This was the first time in your life that you realized something horrible could happen to you. You lived in that blissful unawareness that comes with childhood. In a second, innocence was gone. You found out who you were when your life was at risk. You <<cycle '$response' autoselect>><<option 'fought'>><<option 'froze'>><<option 'tried to flee'>><</cycle>>. [[◎ Page 24]]

<<if $response is 'fought'>>You tried biting, scratching, kicking, all of it. But although the man did momentarily lose his grip, he got it back just as fast.<<elseif $response is 'froze'>>You felt paralyzed by fear. It was like your body wasn’t your own, and you looked at it outside of yourself.<<elseif $response is 'tried to flee'>>You screamed for help even as he covered your mouth.<</if>> You were thrown into the trunk with your brother. You remember how bright the sun shined down on you. You remember thinking //‘pretty day,’// before you were shrouded in darkness. You think you slept or perhaps passed out because when you saw light again, you were in a dingy room. Sunlight flitted in from the dirty sun-bleached windows. Andrea was next to you, bound by his wrists and ankles. You looked down to see you were tied, too. “Andrea—” “Shhhhh!” your brother said. “I want to go home,” you whined. Andrea elbowed you. “Shut up, Luce!” he whispered furiously. “Don’t you know what’s going on?” You shook your head. He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “We’re in trouble. These guys are bad.” You felt your eyes prickle and got annoyed because Andrea always called you a crybaby. You tried to force the tears back in. “What are we gonna do?” you asked. Andrea looked around nervously. “Nothing, for now. It’s ok. Dad is going to come soon, and he’ll kill these people.” [[◎ Page 25]]

“Kill?” Andrea nodded. “He’ll save us and then let me watch when he shoots them in the head. That’s so I can learn for when I take over for Dad.” Your eyes widened. “Why? Is Daddy sick?” Andrea threw you a look like he wanted to whack you. “Because I’m the older brother.” You didn’t understand what he meant by that so you opted to stop talking as to not annoy him. <<if $cisf>>\ You laid down in the bed and tried to pretend you had your dolls with you. You made them fight, go on adventures and get home for a nice spaghetti. <<elseif $cism>>\ You laid down in the bed and tried to pretend you had your superheroes with you. You made them fight, go on adventures and get home for a nice spaghetti. <<elseif $transf>>\ You laid down in the bed and tried to pretend you had your dolls with you. You made them fight, go on adventures and get home for a nice spaghetti. <<elseif $transm>>\ You laid down in the bed and tried to pretend you had your superheroes with you. You made them fight, go on adventures and get home for a nice spaghetti. <<elseif $nbf>>\ You laid down in the bed and tried to pretend you had your toys with you. You made them fight, go on adventures and get home for a nice spaghetti. <<elseif $nbm>>\ You laid down in the bed and tried to pretend you had your toys with you. You made them fight, go on adventures and get home for a nice spaghetti. <</if>>\ The door opened and that woke you up. The sun was gone and the room was pitched in darkness. The man turned on the lamp and placed two sandwiches in each of your hands. Andrea threw it on the ground and glared at the him. “My dad’s going to kill you!” [[◎ Page 26]]

The man chuckled and went to pick up the sandwich. “If my kids did that, I would shove this sandwich back into their mouths. The little prince has an attitude problem.” “Go to hell!” Andrea yelled. You froze and looked at your brother. He said a bad word. The man laughed and said, “Hey! Ronnie, come here and listen to this!” You heard a pair of footsteps. Another man dressed in a similar outfit of black pants and a blazer and tie walked in. They stood at the foot of the bed as Andrea kept raging. He was saying words you had never heard of. His face was getting red, the cords of his neck were pulsing, and you thought the men would get mad. You thought it was better to <<cycle '$response2' autoselect>><<option 'remain calm and compliant'>><<option 'find a way to disarm them'>><<option 'try to find a way to escape'>><</cycle>>. [[◎ Page 27]]

<<if $response2 is 'remain calm and compliant'>>\ You weren’t entirely aware of what was going on but you knew these guys were bad news. Maybe if you did everything they asked you and your brother could go. <<elseif $response2 is 'find a way to disarm them'>>\ They were bigger than you. But maybe you could hit them with something if they weren’t looking, like in the cartoons. <<elseif $response2 is 'try to find a way to escape'>>\ Open the window? But they looked too stuck. What about the door? Maybe if the bad men left it open. But you had to be sneaky and Andrea wasn’t. <</if>> The men just laughed. You thought your brother was always so scary when he yelled. One time, a kid was being mean to you at school, and Andrea made him pee his pants because he yelled so loud. The first man who came in just placed the sandwich on the bed, and they both left. When the door closed, Andrea fell back, exhausted. His hair was matted to his forehead, and he was breathing heavily. You moved closer to him and laid your ear on his heart, which was beating slowly. You curled up next to him and tried to sleep. His breath ruffled your hair. You grabbed his hands with both of yours, and they were a bit cold. “It’s ok, Andrea. Daddy’s gonna come soon,” you reassured him. He didn’t respond, and you squeezed your eyes shut. [[◎ Page 28]]

That was the first time you ever had what would become a recurrng nightmare. You were in a room with no light, and you kept hearing furious whispering from somewhere behind you, but you couldn’t move. You called out, “Andrea?” And the whispering would stop every time, only to start up again after a minute. When you woke up again, Andrea was asleep. You sat up and looked around the room. There was nothing to do. The sun was out again, and you could hear the sounds of cars and people talking. You heard the familiar song of the ice cream truck, and you smiled. You started to shake Andrea. “Andrea! Look! Ice cream’s here!” But he wouldn’t wake up. He was such a heavy sleeper. You tried to hop off the bed and jump to the window. You ended up falling onto the floor with a loud thump, and you looked at the door, expecting the men to come back. But when they didn’t, you managed to sit up and use the bed to stand up. You jumped to the window and looked out. It was dirty, so the street, the cars, and the people all looked hazy. You tried wiping it, but it didn’t work. But you could hear the ice cream song, which excited you. You looked at your brother, who was still asleep, and jumped to his side of the bed. [[◎ Page 29]]

“Andreaaaaaaaaa! Wakkkeeeee upppppp!” you jostled him. “Icccceeee ccccrrreeeeaaaammmm.” But he wouldn’t open his eyes. You accidentally touched his hand and jerked back. It was cold. You touched it again, and it was so cold, like holding an ice cream cone. You peered at his face. He looked strange. You had slept in the same bed as Andrea many times before when either of you would get nightmares, and he didn’t look like this. “Andrea?” you asked in a mousy voice. “I’m scared,” you said to him. He didn’t respond. You bent down to press your ear to his heart. You couldn’t hear it. “Did you turn your heart off?” you asked him. You didn’t get an answer again. You hobbled over to your side of the bed and laid back down. You turned over to him. You felt <<cycle '$response3' autoselect>><<option 'sad'>><<option 'scared'>><<option 'nothing'>><</cycle>>. [[◎ Page 30]]

<<if $response3 is 'sad'>>You didn't know yet, but deep within you you knew something wasn't right and wouldn't ever be made right again.<<elseif $response3 is 'scared'>>You didn't know yet, but deep within you you knew something wasn't right and wouldn't ever be made right again. That kind of change ripped away the predictability of your life.<<elseif $response3 is 'nothing'>>It was like you were in a dream. You knew things had changed but you couldn't force that feeling within your heart.<</if>> But you pushed the doubts aside. You believed that Andrea would wake up soon and you’d go have ice cream. So, instead of sleeping, you took the time to look at your brother. Mommy always said you looked identical, and sometimes that made you mad, and other times it made you happy; usually, it’s when Andrea was being nice to you. He had <<cycle '$hairtype' autoselect>><<option 'straight'>><<option 'wavy'>><<option 'curly'>><</cycle>> <<cycle '$haircolor' autoselect>><<option 'black'>><<option 'brown'>><<option 'blond'>><<option 'red'>><</cycle>> hair, just like yours. His skin was <<cycle '$skin' autoselect>><<option 'pale'>><<option 'tanned'>><<option 'brown'>><<option 'black'>><</cycle>>, but he was a bit darker than you because in the summer he liked playing basketball outside for several hours. You couldn’t see his eyes but you would always know them. They were <<cycle '$eyes' autoselect>><<option 'brown'>><<option 'black'>><<option 'blue'>><<option 'green'>><<option 'gray'>><</cycle>>. You didn’t mean to, but you fell asleep again, because what awoke you was yelling. Your eyes shot open to see the men looking down at your brother. [[◎ Page 31]]

The first man looked worried, and the second man—Ronnie—looked angry. “Fuck!” the first man cursed. “What are we going to do?” Ronnie asked. The first man moved his eyes down Andrea’s body. “Tell the boss, of course.” “Yeah, and then have him kill us cause the kid’s dead,” Ronnie said. You looked at your brother. Dead? No. Andrea couldn’t die. Not Andrea. He was brave, braver than you, and that means he couldn’t die. “THEN?” the first man asked his friend angrily. Ronnie scratched his chin, and he felt your eyes on him. “Let’s get out of this city.” <<if $cisf>>“What about the girl?” the first man asked, eyeing you out.<<elseif $cism>>“What about the other boy?” the first man asked, eyeing you out.<<elseif $transf>>“What about the other boy?” the first man asked, eyeing you out.<<elseif $transm>>“What about the girl?” the first man asked, eyeing you out.<<elseif $nbf>>“What about the girl?” the first man asked, eyeing you out.<<elseif $nbm>>“What about the other boy?” the first man asked, eyeing you out.<</if>> <<if $cisf>>Ronnie replied quickly, “We’ll get rid of her.”<<elseif $cism>>Ronnie replied quickly, “We’ll get rid of him.”<<elseif $transf>>Ronnie replied quickly, “We’ll get rid of him.”<<elseif $transm>>Ronnie replied quickly, “We’ll get rid of her.”<<elseif $nbf>>Ronnie replied quickly, “We’ll get rid of her.”<<elseif $nbm>>Ronnie replied quickly, “We’ll get rid of him.”<</if>> The first man started to grab you but you grabbed onto your brother. “No! I wanna stay with Andrea!” [[◎ Page 32]]

The man lifted you and took you out of the room. “ANDREA!” you screamed as you were carried out of the apartment. You didn’t look at your surroundings; you didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were being separated from your brother. The bright sun made you wince. You were being led to the same car you were taken from the park with. People were on the street, and your screams were getting their attention. “Stop crying, you little brat,” Ronnie chastised. “Is everything alright?” a woman asked. “Mind your business, lady!” the first man barked. The back door was thrown open, and you were flung in, falling onto the floor of the car. The door slammed behind you. The first man got into the driver’s seat. You heard the other door open, and then Ronnie screamed something. Before you could understand what was happening, you heard a sound that reminded you of firecrackers. A pause that felt like it lasted forever before you heard more pops. The first man opened the door, and you lifted your head to see him taking something out of his blazer. The car started to shake from the pops, and you lowered your head and closed your eyes. You heard something break and fall over you. The car shook like it was dancing. You wondered how cars could do that. Where was Andrea? You could hear people screaming, Ronnie and the first man yelling at each other, but you couldn’t make out anything else over the firecrackers. It continued for a while longer, until it stopped in an instant. It was quiet. None of the sounds you heard that morning were there any longer. You didn’t open your eyes. Not when you felt the door open, not when someone scooped you up and not when you smelled something burning. “Tesoro?” Your father’s voice made you grip him harder. “Are you hurt?” You shook your head. “Tesoro, where’s your brother?” he asked. You didn’t open your eyes but just used your tied hands to point somewhere vaguely. “Sleeping.” [[◎ Page 33]]

It took you a long time after your brother’s death to understand words like ‘death,’ ‘heart defects’ and ‘murder.’ On the day of your brother’s funeral, you, your mother, your sister and your father stood under the umbrellas and atop the soggy earth to see his casket being laid into the ground. You held your father’s hand and you were <<cycle '$andrea' autoselect>><<option 'crying'>><<option 'angry'>><<option 'not there'>><</cycle>>. You looked at your sister. She was crying in your mother’s arms. At that moment, you realized that you were the eldest now. But you didn’t know what to do. Andrea always knew. Your father squeezed your hand, “Tesoro sii forte.” You eventually went home. Mommy went to her room, where she had spent the last few days. You knew she cried because it was loud, and it would make Bianca cry too. Daddy had not spent much time at home, and when he did, he would lock himself in his study with his friends. [[◎ Page 34]]

Years later, you would get the full story of your father’s retaliation. Your dad took revenge on Farrugia, massacring him and his people with a series of car bombs. With that, the south of the city was his. But the issues didn’t end there. The $surname family needed a new heir. Weeks after the funeral, you had heard a heated voice coming from your parent’s room. You had gotten up and slowly opened the door. You peeked out and saw the shadows of your parents projected on the wall; their door was open. “I don’t want any more of my children dead!” your mother snapped. “Andrea didn’t die because he was shot. He died because of his heart. No one could have known. It doesn’t matter if I’m a gangster or a real estate salesman. It would’ve happened,” your father reasoned. “He died because of this disgusting, violent business. That’s what killed him, not his heart!” your mother denied. “Then what do you suggest, amore? To leave the family without a head when I die?” your father asked. “Luce will not be your heir! <<if $cisf>>If you put her in danger, I swear to God, I will never forgive you!” she threatened.<<elseif $cism>>If you put him in danger, I swear to God, I will never forgive you!” she threatened.<<elseif $transf>>If you put him in danger, I swear to God, I will never forgive you!” she threatened.<<elseif $transm>>If you put her in danger, I swear to God, I will never forgive you!” she threatened.<<elseif $nbf>>If you put her in danger, I swear to God, I will never forgive you!” she threatened.<<elseif $nbm>>If you put him in danger, I swear to God, I will never forgive you!” she threatened.<</if>> <<if $cism or $transf or $nbm>>\ “He’s the only boy we have, Ana,” your father said, in a tone middling between exasperated and compassionate. “I don’t care,” your mother attested. “Over my dead body will I lose my only remaining son, Antonio.” <<elseif $cisf or $transm or $nbm>>\ “She was never going to be heir. The others wouldn’t have accepted it,” your father said, in a tired voice. “Good,” your mother claimed. “Your tradition has saved my daughters.” <</if>>\ They lowered their voices. You could tell your father was speaking in a soothing voice, and your mother was crying again. You slipped back into bed but couldn’t sleep a wink. Did you want to be heir? You didn’t even know what that really meant then. Even so, you weren’t given the chance. So that made you <<cycle '$heir' autoselect>><<option 'want to be heir'>><<option 'not want to be heir'>><<option 'not care either way'>><</cycle>>. [[◎ Page 35]]

Your mother took you and your sister back to New York, while your father stayed to consolidate his new territory. Summer ended, and you went to a new school. This one was much more private, and the newly assigned bodyguards would pick you up. More bodyguards surrounded the house now. There were no more solo outings to the park. One day, when you were dragging your heavy backpack towards the front door—the bodyguards following behind you—it opened, and your father stepped out onto the front steps. He smiled at you and opened his arms. You ran to him, and he picked you up. “How was school, Tesoro?” he asked. “Boring, we did math,” you said disgustedly. Your father chuckled. “Math is important. I use math every day,” he stated. “When I’m big, I’m going to have a job that has no math,” you retorted. He laughed again and pinched your cheek. “I want you to meet someone.” “Your friend?” you asked. It wasn’t the first time your dad made you meet one of his old friends. They all looked the same, wrinkled and with gray hair. You never remembered their names. “In a way. I hope he’ll be your friend too,” your father said. You shrugged, and your father took you inside. He carried you to the living room, which had gotten new furniture. Your dad said it would make your mom happy again. At first, you were looking for an old man, which is why you didn’t understand who your father was referring to when he instructed, “Say hello, Luce.” You looked around the room quickly and saw no one. Did Pa have an imaginary friend? You leaned towards your dad’s ear, “Daddy, I can’t see nobody.” Your father smiled and directed your face toward the oversized couch. That’s when you saw him. A little boy, no bigger than you. He was kicking his feet in the air. <<if $haircolor is 'red'>>His hair was very red like yours. It looked like it was coloured with markers.<<else>>His hair was very red. It looked like it was coloured with markers.<</if>> He looked at you without a smile. “Don’t be rude, Tesoro, say hello to Lazlo,” your father said. You hid your face in your father’s neck. “Daddy, who is he?” Your father carried you over to the couch and sat down. You were splayed on his lap. You turned to look at the boy who was looking at the fireplace. [[◎ Page 36]]

<<if $cisf>>“Lazlo, this is my daughter. We call her, Luce,” your father explained.<<elseif $cism>>“Lazlo, this is my eldest son. We call him, Luce,” your father explained.<<elseif $transf>>“Lazlo, this is my eldest son. We call him, Luce,” your father explained.<<elseif $transm>>“Lazlo, this is my daughter. We call her, Luce,” your father explained.<<elseif $nbf>>“Lazlo, this is my daughter. We call her, Luce,” your father explained.<<elseif $nbm>>“Lazlo, this is my eldest son. We call him, Luce,” your father explained.<</if>> <<if $lazloIncest>>\ He didn’t look like Andrea at all. That both annoyed you and yet intrigued you. He looked sad. Not like your other brother at all. You didn’t like sad people. You had to change that—he wouldn’t be sad with you. “And I can play with him?” you asked your Pa. Your Pa smiled brightly. Did you do something good? It made you smile too. “Of course, Tesoro. You can play with him all you want,” he replied. You looked at the boy, he side-eyed you and then looked quickly back at the fire. Didn’t he like you? Your school uniform was ugly but your face wasn’t. Everyone told you that. You looked at his clothes. They smelled. He smelled. Maybe he didn’t know what nice things were. “Do you wanna go play in my room?” you asked. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ The boy froze. You and your Pa exchanged glances. “Lazlo, don’t you want to play with your new sister?” <<else>>\ The boy froze. You and your Pa exchanged glances. “Lazlo, don’t you want to play with your new brother?” <</if>>\ Lazlo slowly and stiffly nodded. You jumped off your Pa’s lap. You grabbed his hand without thinking and started dragging him up the stairs. It was hard. He kept walking slowly and when you looked behind you and tugged, all he did was take slow steps up the stairs. Still, you wouldn’t let him do whatever he wanted. You took him past your Ma’s room, where the door was thankfully closed, because you didn’t want to see her sad face. You threw open the door and expected him to marvel. “TA-DA!” [[◎ Page 37|◎ Page 37-LAZ]] <<else>>\ “Hello,” the boy said in a barely audible voice. “Hi,” you said in a similar voice. “Lazlo is going to be living with us from now on,” your father informed you. “Why?” you asked. “Because he’s going to work with me, Tesoro.” “But he’s a kid,” you said. “It doesn’t matter,” he replied. “Lazlo is ready. Aren’t you, boy?” “Yes, sir,” Lazlo said in that faraway voice. He didn’t look away from the fireplace. Your father cupped your cheek and made you look at him, “I hope you two can get along. Lazlo could be a good brother.” //Brother?// You looked at the strange boy. He wasn’t like Andrea at all. Andrea liked to talk. He never looked sad. This boy wasn’t your brother. “I want Andrea,” you said. “Luce, please,” your father said gently. “You know why you can’t have Andrea.” “Then I don’t want another brother!” you protested and slid off your father’s lap. You ran out of the living room and headed for the stairs. <<if $cisf>>\ “Luce!” your father called behind you. “Come back, young lady!” <<elseif $cism>>\ “Luce!” your father called behind you. “Come back, young man!” <<elseif $transf>>\ “Luce!” your father called behind you. “Come back, young man!” <<elseif $transm>>\ “Luce!” your father called behind you. “Come back, young lady!” <<elseif $nbf>>\ “Luce!” your father called behind you. “Come back, young lady!” <<elseif $nbm>>\ “Luce!” your father called behind you. “Come back, young man!” <</if>>\ You ran up to the top of the stairs, and just as you passed your parents’ room, you bumped into your mother. She looked at your face and crouched down. “What is it my love?” She cupped your chin. “Daddy wants to give me a new brother, and I want Andrea!” Your mother started wiping away your tears. “Come with me,” she said. She grabbed your hand and led you into her room. She hoisted you up in her bed and laid your head on her lap. She soothed your hair as she spoke, “No one will ever replace Andrea. He is your brother now and forever. Ok?” You sniffed. “That... boy, he just works for your father, nothing more. He will never be a part of this family, I promise,” she said as she bent down to kiss your head. “I promise,” she reiterated. As for you? As the seasons passed and months turned to years, you decided to treat your new ‘brother’ with <<cycle '$laz' autoselect>><<option 'politeness'>><<option 'contempt'>><<option 'indifference'>><</cycle>>. You like to think you knew who you were pretty young. Due to what was between your legs, people called you what they wanted. You didn't like that, even if it was true. You had made a point to make people refer to you as... <hr class="symbol-hr">\ <<link "She/Her">> <<set $lucePronounSet to "she">> <<set $luce to $lucePronouns[$lucePronounSet]>> <<set $pronounsLocked to true>> <<goto "◎ Page 37">> <</link>> <<link "They/Them">> <<set $lucePronounSet to "they">> <<set $luce to $lucePronouns[$lucePronounSet]>> <<set $pronounsLocked to true>> <<goto "◎ Page 37">> <</link>> <<link "He/Him">> <<set $lucePronounSet to "he">> <<set $luce to $lucePronouns[$lucePronounSet]>> <<set $pronounsLocked to true>> <<goto "◎ Page 37">> <</link>> <</if>>

<<if $transm and $lucePronounSet is "he">>\ Though you looked like a girl then. Your folks didn’t understand it but thought it was a simple phase; they called you ''he'' only at home. In public, they asked you not to bring that up because people wouldn’t like it. You hated being told what to do, but on this your folks wouldn’t budge. <<elseif $transf and $lucePronounSet is "she">>\ Though you looked like a boy then. Your folks didn’t understand it but thought it was a simple phase; they called you ''her'' only at home. In public, they asked you not to bring that up because people wouldn’t like it. You hated being told what to do, but on this your folks wouldn’t budge. <<elseif ($nbf or $nbm) and $lucePronounSet is "they">>\ Though you looked like what they had called you when you were born. Your folks didn’t understand it and had once wondered if you couldn’t just be a regular “tranny.” They thought it was a simple phase; they called you ''they'' only at home. In public, they asked you not to bring that up because people wouldn’t like it. You hated being told what to do, but on this your folks wouldn’t budge. <<elseif $cisf and $lucePronounSet is "she">>\ Well yeah, you were a girl and wanted to be called a girl. It was simple, but the fact that you had made it a point to tell people to refer to you as a girl had felt oddly powerful for 11-year-old you. <<elseif $cism and $lucePronounSet is "he">>\ Well yeah, you were a boy and wanted to be called a boy. It was simple, but the fact that you had made it a point to tell people to refer to you as a boy had felt oddly powerful for 11-year-old you. <</if>>\ In the fall of your 13th year, your father celebrated his 48th birthday at your seasonal home on the Gold Coast of Long Island. Silvio Greco—your father’s closest business associate and friend—was there with his wife and two children. You could say you grew up with Dante and Carmen Greco. You would see them at birthdays, vacations and the occasional Easter; at certain points, you would be in the same school, just different grades. Carmen was three years older and never let anyone forget it. She would call hanging out with you and Dante ‘babysitting.’ But her beliefs in her talents weren’t born from smoke and mirrors. She was brilliant, an honour student who was self-taught in gun shooting. Everyone knew she wanted to be the head of the Greco family, but they also knew that was never going to happen on account of her sex. That’s why Silvio had Dante, who was unexpected, given his wife’s fertility issues. Dante was two years older than you and the polar opposite of his sister. He was flunking all his classes, impulsive to a fault, got off on violence and was trigger-happy. The party was held on the lawn of the estate; long picnic tables surrounded the circular ones. Children ran to and fro. It was a crisp fall day, cold but not cold enough to need jackets. Your father had invited many of his associates and their families. There were about 60 people here. Not to mention the triple amount of usual bodyguards surrounding the lawn. [[◎ Page 38]]

Carmen was sitting next to the son of a Norwegian shipping magnate, rubbing his tie in a sensual manner that wasn’t lost on you, as young as you were. They had been talking very closely for most of the party. You think there’s a good chance Carmen might pull one of her signature moves and get caught half-naked in a closet somewhere with him. The last time it happened, Silvio was so angry he called her a whore and slapped her in front of everyone. Your Pa had to step in before he could go further. Carmen didn’t cry; she just turned on her heel and walked away. She did unload later, saying something about it being, “Unfair that I can’t do the things boys do.” It was strange talk. Your family and the whole organization were raised with a series of norms that complied with your Roman Catholic upbringing. <<if $cism>>You were given more freedom than the girls, but that’s just the way things were and at 13, you weren’t going to question it just yet.<<elseif $transf>>You were given more freedom than the girls, but that’s just the way things were and at 13, you weren’t going to question it just yet. Although you did like to spend more time playing with the girls than the boys.<<elseif $nbm>>You were given more freedom than the girls, but that’s just the way things were and at 13, you weren’t going to question it just yet.<<elseif $cisf>>You did notice how the boys in your family and from your dad’s friends’ families could play and get dirty, could come home at whatever hour and kiss girls, while you couldn’t do even half of that. But in that point of your life you just accepted the world in which you lived.<<elseif $transm>>You did notice how the boys in your family and from your dad’s friends’ families could play and get dirty, could come home at whatever hour and kiss girls, while you couldn’t do even half of that. But in that point of your life, you just accepted the world in which you lived. And you so wanted to play with the boys.<<elseif $nbf>>You did notice how the boys in your family and from your dad’s friends’ families could play and get dirty, could come home at whatever hour and kiss girls, while you couldn’t do even half of that. But in that point of your life, you just accepted the world in which you lived.<</if>> You sat at the main table between your mom and Bianca. Your sister was 4 then, and she was slyly throwing her vegetables on the ground. “You’re going to get into trouble,” you warned her. “Nuh-uh,” she replied and stuck out her tongue. You snorted and felt someone’s eyes on you. You looked across the table and saw Dante staring you down. ‘What?’ you mouthed. He jerked his head once. You squinted at his actions. ‘What?’ you repeated. He rolled his eyes and rose, waving at you to follow him. You looked around; your parents were busy talking to Dante’s parents, so you got up and followed behind him. He went all the way into the house and shut the door behind you. You turned around and said, “You better have a good reason for interrupting my lunch.” He raised a finger, “I do. Well, for me.” <<if $cism>>\ He looked behind him through the window that faced the party. “Who’s that girl at the table next to ours, the one with the pink dress?” he asked. You went up to the window and looked at where he was pointing. “You mean my cousin?” He jerked his attention to you. “So you really know her?” You shrugged. “I wouldn’t go far enough to say that. I see her sometimes.” You gave him a questioning look, “Why?” Dante gritted his teeth and almost pouted. You waited a minute before he was willing to answer. “I want to kiss her.” You had let out a laugh, not out of mockery but surprise. Even though Dante took that the wrong way and punched your arm somewhat hard. “Ow,” you said and rubbed the spot. “I never kissed someone before, retard. And I wanna do it with a hot babe. So...,” he poked your chest, “You’re gonna get her for me.” You slapped his hand away. “Keep hurting me, and the only thing you’ll get is a kick in the balls.” Dante stepped closer to you, his hands balled into fists, “Get her for me.” You replied, “I don’t want to. It’s awkward. If you want to kiss someone, do it yourself.” “I want her,” he said and gripped the front of your shirt. You glared at him. “I. Don’t. Care.” Dante glowered and pressed you against him. “If you don’t help me, I will beat the ever living shit outta—” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Kiss him.|◎ Page 39][$kissm to true]] [[Make good on your threat.|◎ Page 39][$ballsm to true]] <<elseif $transf>>\ He looked behind him through the window that faced the party. “Who’s that girl at the table next to ours, the one with the pink dress?” he asked. You went up to the window and looked at where he was pointing. “You mean my cousin?” He jerked his attention to you. “So you really know her?” You shrugged. “I wouldn’t go far enough to say that. I see her sometimes.” You gave him a questioning look, “Why?” Dante gritted his teeth and almost pouted. You waited a minute before he was willing to answer. “I want to kiss her.” You had let out a laugh, not out of mockery but surprise. Even though Dante took that the wrong way and punched your arm somewhat hard. “Ow,” you said and rubbed the spot. “I never kissed someone before, retard. And I wanna do it with a hot babe. So...,” he poked your chest, “You’re gonna get her for me.” You slapped his hand away. “Keep hurting me, and the only thing you’ll get is a kick in the balls.” Dante stepped closer to you, his hands balled into fists, “Get her for me.” You replied, “I don’t want to. It’s awkward. If you want to kiss someone, do it yourself.” “I want her,” he said and gripped the front of your shirt. You glared at him. “I. Don’t. Care.” Dante glowered and pressed you against him. “If you don’t help me, I will beat the ever living shit outta-” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Kiss him.|◎ Page 39][$kissm to true]] [[Make good on your threat.|◎ Page 39][$ballsm to true]] <<elseif $nbm>>\ He looked behind him through the window that faced the party. “Who’s that girl at the table next to ours, the one with the pink dress?” he asked. You went up to the window and looked at where he was pointing. “You mean my cousin?” He jerked his attention to you. “So you really know her?” You shrugged. “I wouldn’t go far enough to say that. I see her sometimes.” You give him a questioning look, “Why?” Dante gritted his teeth and almost pouted. You waited a minute before he was willing to answer. “I want to kiss her.” You let out a laugh, not out of mockery but surprise. Even though Dante took that the wrong way and punched your arm somewhat hard. “Ow,” you said and rubbed the spot. “I never kissed someone before, retard. And I wanna do it with a hot babe. So...,” he poked your chest, “You’re gonna get her for me.” You slapped his hand away. “Keep hurting me, and the only thing you’ll get is a kick in the balls.” Dante stepped closer to you, his hands balling into fists, “Get her for me.” You replied, “I don’t want to. It’s awkward. If you want to kiss someone, do it yourself.” “I want her,” he said and gripped the front of your shirt. You glared at him. “I. Don’t. Care.” Dante glowered and pressed you against him. “If you don’t help me, I will beat the ever living shit outta-” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Kiss him.|◎ Page 39][$kissm to true]] [[Make good on your threat.|◎ Page 39][$ballsm to true]] <<elseif $cisf>>\ He looked behind him through the window that faced the party. “Nah, too close.” He grabbed your hand and dragged you throughout the house. “Dante, what the hell—” He opened the door to the greenhouse and pulled you in. Then, he shut it behind you, making sure to lock it. You let go of his hand and looked at the lock. “What do you want? I swear I’ll cut you if you’re trying to scare me.” Dante tilted his head at that threat and then smiled. “You’re a fucking psycho.” You glared at him. He started walking towards you, and you backed up, but a metal table was behind you. You looked around to see what you could throw at him, but he stopped inches away. Leaning in, he asked, “Have you ever kissed a man before?” Your eyes widened, and you blurted out, “You’re a boy, not a man.” “Keep talking shit if you think you’re hot stuff. I don’t care about hitting girls,” he warned. Despite your play at bravado, internally you were a bit scared. You knew Dante had no qualms about hitting anyone, and he didn’t hold his punches. “Answer my question,” he demanded. “Not that’s your business, but no,” you said with a stiff upper lip. “Is that a problem?” Dante looked at you appraisingly as if you were a prized cow. You felt like a thing he was checking in quality. He glanced at your chest and snorted when you crossed your arms. He tilted his head to glance at your ass, and you pressed your behind against the table. He looked into your eyes and said, “I want you to kiss me. I want to be your first, and I want you to be my first.” You looked at him in shock. “What?” “I thought since we know each other, it wouldn’t be so awkward, and I know you won’t say anything about me not having kissed anyone yet because you know I would beat you until you barfed,” he replied. “How romantic,” you replied sarcastically. “YES OR NO?” he barked into your face. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Kiss him.|◎ Page 39][$kissf to true]] [[Tell him you’d rather die.|◎ Page 39][$df to true]] <<elseif $transm>>\ He looked behind him through the window that faced the party. “Nah, too close.” He grabbed your hand and dragged you throughout the house. “Dante, what the hell—” He opened the door to the greenhouse and pulled you in. Then, he shut it behind you, making sure to lock it. You let go of his hand and looked at the lock. “What do you want? I swear I’ll cut you if you’re trying to scare me.” Dante tilted his head at that threat and then smiled. “You’re a fucking psycho.” You glared at him. He started walking towards you, and you backed up, but a metal table was behind you. You looked around to see what you could throw at him, but he stopped inches away. Leaning in, he asked, “Have you ever kissed a man before?” Your eyes widened, and you blurted out, “You’re a boy, not a man.” “Keep talking shit if you think you’re hot stuff. I don’t care about hitting girls,” he warned. Despite your play at bravado, internally you were a bit scared. You knew Dante had no qualms about hitting anyone, and he didn’t hold his punches. “Answer my question,” he demanded. “Not that’s your business, but no,” you said with a stiff upper lip. “Is that a problem?” Dante looked at you appraisingly as if you were a prized cow. You felt like a thing he was checking in quality. He glanced at your chest and snorted when you crossed your arms. He tilted his head to glance at your ass, and you pressed your behind against the table. He looked into your eyes and said, “I want you to kiss me. I want to be your first, and I want you to be my first.” You looked at him in shock. “What?” “I thought since we know each other, it wouldn’t be so awkward, and I know you won’t say anything about me not having kissed anyone yet because you know I would beat you until you barfed,” he replied. “How romantic,” you replied sarcastically. “YES OR NO?” he barked into your face. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Kiss him.|◎ Page 39][$kissf to true]] [[Tell him you’d rather die.|◎ Page 39][$df to true]] <<elseif $nbf>>\ He looked behind him through the window that faced the party. “Nah, too close.” He grabbed your hand and dragged you throughout the house. “Dante, what the hell—” He opened the door to the greenhouse and pulled you in. Then, he shut it behind you, making sure to lock it. You let go of his hand and looked at the lock. “What do you want? I swear I’ll cut you if you’re trying to scare me.” Dante tilted his head at that threat and then smiled. “You’re a fucking psycho.” You glared at him. He started walking towards you, and you backed up, but a metal table was behind you. You looked around to see what you could throw at him, but he stopped inches away. Leaning in, he asked, “Have you ever kissed a man before?” Your eyes widened, and you blurted out, “You’re a boy, not a man.” “Keep talking shit if you think you’re hot stuff. I don’t care about hitting girls,” he warned. Despite your play at bravado, internally you were a bit scared. You knew Dante had no qualms about hitting anyone, and he didn’t hold his punches. “Answer my question,” he demanded. “Not that’s your business, but no,” you said with a stiff upper lip. “Is that a problem?” Dante looked at you appraisingly as if you were a prized cow. You felt like a thing he was checking in quality. He glanced at your chest and snorted when you crossed your arms. He tilted his head to glance at your ass, and you pressed your behind against the table. He looked into your eyes and said, “I want you to kiss me. I want to be your first, and I want you to be my first.” You looked at him in shock. “What?” “I thought since we know each other, it wouldn’t be so awkward, and I know you won’t say anything about me not having kissed anyone yet because you know I would beat you until you barfed,” he replied. “How romantic,” you replied sarcastically. “YES OR NO?” he barked into your face. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Kiss him.|◎ Page 39][$kissf to true]] [[Tell him you’d rather die.|◎ Page 39][$df to true]] <</if>>

<<if $kissm>>\ You moved forward and gave him a quick peck on the lips. He jerked back and was so surprised he let you go. He looked at you as if you told him you were part alligator. You smiled. “You wanted your first kiss. There you have it.” Dante looked troubled. “You’re a boy.” You shrugged. “So? No one has to know. Look, I gotta go. My dad’s probably looking for me.” You left him there with a dazed expression. As the first kisses go, it wasn’t amazing, but it was fun to have the upper hand with Dante. You two never mentioned that kiss again. After that, Dante had a string of girlfriends who never lasted long because he would cheat constantly. As years went on he seemed to have forgotten about it. And you <<cycle '$dank' autoselect>><<option 'did as well'>><<option 'remembered'>><<option 'tried to forget'>><</cycle>>. <<elseif $ballsm>>\ You lifted your knee and struck. Dante let you go instantly and doubled over, gasping. You winced, imagining someone doing that to you. But, well, he deserved it. “Son of a bitch...” he groaned as his knee touched the floor; he was using one hand to hold himself up and the other to cup his privates. “Sorry, but you were being an ass,” you stated and used that opportunity to slip back outside. When Dante appeared again, he spent the rest of the party throwing death glares at you. He eventually got you back, using the same method a few months later. He must’ve gotten his first kiss. From then on, he went through a string of girlfriends, relationships that never lasted because he would constantly cheat. Did you ever regret not kissing him instead? <<cycle '$nokis' autoselect>><<option 'No'>><<option 'Yes'>><</cycle>>. <<elseif $kissf>>\ You nodded once, and before you could have second thoughts, he leaned in and kissed you gently. You had expected him to be rough with you, as he is with everything, but it was a simple, soft kiss, lasting less than 10 seconds. A press of the lips. He moved back, and you opened your eyes. He was smirking, and you cleared your throat. “Happy now?” “You see, Luce, I always get what I want,” he replied and left you in the greenhouse, whistling along the halls. As first kisses go, it didn’t flip your world, but in a way, you were thankful he wasn’t rough with you. You two never mentioned that kiss again. After that, Dante had a string of girlfriends who never lasted long because he would cheat constantly. As years went on he seemed to have forgotten about it. And you <<cycle '$dank' autoselect>><<option 'did as well'>><<option 'remembered'>><<option 'tried to forget'>><</cycle>>. <<elseif $df>>\ “I would rather drop dead right now than ever kiss you, Dante Greco,” you said. Dante shoved you hard enough to have your tailbone hit the table. “Then drop dead then.” “You said then twice, you ass!” you yelled behind him as he threw open the greenhouse door, gave you the finger and walked out; you could hear his stomps down the hallway. When you got back into your seat, Dante refused to look at you, and when your eyes accidentally crossed paths, he would mouth ‘screw you.’ He never forgot that slight and got back at you by throwing you into the cold lake of the estate a few weeks later. He must’ve gotten his first kiss. From then on, he went through a string of girlfriends, relationships that never lasted because he would constantly cheat. Did you ever regret not kissing him instead? <<cycle '$nokis' autoselect>><<option 'No'>><<option 'Yes'>><</cycle>>. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 40]]

During that party and many others, Lazlo Fisher, your father’s heir, would sit to the right of your father, becoming literally and metaphorically his right-hand man. Lazlo always acted the same in all family social events. He would sulk, barely eat, and respond to questions in one-word answers. For someone a year younger than you, he acted as if he were a decade older. <<if $lazloIncest>>\ At first, you had the idea that he was shy, but even in the privacy of your home, he hardly ever spoke to anyone who wasn’t your dad, you, and sometimes Bee. Some days he would get so gloomy you couldn’t even make him talk. He would reply to your mom with cold formality, even though she was very vocal about his status in your family. Carmen once told you that it looked like he was in love with you because he would always stare. You denied it quickly and angrily, to the point where Carmen started getting amused and kept bothering you about it until you threw a pillow at her. That night in bed, you kept going over what she said and you couldn’t sleep. Carmen was stupid. She didn’t understand what you and Laz had. He was your brother, but different from Andrea… sometimes you liked that and sometimes you didn’t, because it made you want your other brother back and then you would yell at Laz. You ended up apologizing in your own way and Laz always accepted. <<else>>\ At first, you had the idea that he was shy, but even in the privacy of your home, he hardly ever spoke to anyone who wasn’t your dad. You might bump into him in the hallways, and he would act like you didn’t exist. He would reply to your mom in a cold formality, even though she was very vocal about his status in your family. Carmen once told you that it looked like he was in love with you because he would always stare. You didn’t believe her because every time you looked at him, he was staring at everything and no one. Your distant relationship with Lazlo was a burden on your dad. He always tried to push you two together to be a proper family. He would refer to you, Lazlo, and Bianca as ‘siblings’ to others. You responded by <<if $laz is 'politeness'>>trying to bridge the gap. Ok, it was mainly to get things out of your Pa, but every kind word was met with silence or a stiff nod. How could Carmen ever think this boy who hates you could be in love? She was crazy. <<elseif $laz is 'contempt'>>fighting against it at every turn. You had one brother and Lazlo could never fill that void. He was just a stray like your mother said, living off the money your dad made. The only thing your Pa asked you to do was to pretend around those outside the family and you did. <<elseif $laz is 'indifference'>>doing nothing. You didn’t care to change how things were. You never gave much thought to Lazlo and were perfectly fine ignoring his existence as he did yours. It kept a relative peace. The only thing your Pa asked you to do was to pretend around those outside the family and you did.<</if>> <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 41]]

However, a worm of doubt wiggled in your brain the night of that birthday party for your father. Most people had left, except for a few drunken stragglers sent off to their rooms with the staff as crutches. You were packing your clothes, as your family was to head back to the city tomorrow morning, when you heard a faint knock on your door. You dropped a folded shirt into your valise and went to fold another. Absentmindedly, you said, “It’s open.” You heard the door creak open slowly. You shoved in some underwear as quickly as possible before looking up to see Lazlo standing in the doorway. <<if $lazloIncest>>\ He was looking at you blankly. Which was odd for him; he always had a soft look when it came to you. <<else>>\ He was looking at you blankly. Which was odd for him; he often wouldn’t even look you in the eyes. <</if>>\ “What?” you asked. He looked at you a moment longer. His face showed nothing; you couldn’t tell what he was feeling, but he almost seemed… in a trance. Did you have something on your face? You quickly swiped at your cheeks. You put a hand on your hip and raised an eyebrow. “Lazlo?” <<if $lazloIncest>>\ He walked over to you and looked at you strangely. He always had a small smile for you. A special one he gave to no one but you. “What? You coming here to help me pack?” With a cold tone he asked, “Did something happen between you and Dante?” You snorted. “Ew. Did he tell you that?” “He said something, he was trying to annoy me. But I want to hear it from you,” he responded. <<if $kissm or $kissf>>\ Lazlo’s expression didn’t change. You forced your face to remain calm and relaxed. You had perfected it from all the times you lied to your folks. You didn’t know why, but you didn’t want him to know you kissed Dante. <<else>>\ Lazlo’s expression didn’t change. You knew nothing happened, but for some reason you wanted him to doubt, even for a second that it wasn’t true. <</if>>\ Lazlo got weird around people who liked you. Pa said he was just protecting you like a brother should. It was funny because you were older in years but everyone treated Laz like he had to take care of you. You took your sweet time, stuffed your suitcase and sighed, “Nothing happened. You know how he is. He likes to ruin people’s days.” “Are you sure?” he asked, walking closer, his hand inches away from yours. You forced your suitcase closed and zipped it. “Yeah.” “Because if he was bothering you, all you have to do is tell me. I don’t want anyone to do things like that to you,” he said seriously. You exhaled and crawled onto your bed. His eyes followed you. “Why does it matter so much? Dante is a freak.” Lazlo moved his jaw around, he did that when the rage was shimmering under the surface. You’d seen it briefly but not when you were alone. “It’s going to be Dante or someone else,” he said in a low voice. “For what?” you patted the spot beside you. His mouth twitched and he laid down next to you. The bed was big enough for both of you to lie on without touching, but that wasn’t how you two did things. You turned over to look at him and he slightly moved his head to the side to stare at you. You were both silent for a moment. His arm was touching your chest. You didn’t know if he noticed, but you definitely did. “Laz?” you asked softly. You don’t know why you felt the need to whisper. “One day, you’re going to like someone. Really like someone,” he explained in a slow voice, as if he were trying to control himself. You felt a smirk forming on your face. “Yeah, and what about it?” He looked at you with annoyance. “Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen?” you asked tauntingly. “It shouldn’t have to. Especially with someone like Dante. He doesn’t deserve you. If you want someone, then—” “Then?” you wiggled your eyebrows. He bit his tongue and shook his head as he looked away. “You’re trying to anger me.” “It’s working, isn’t it?” “Yes,” he snaps. “I don’t think there exists anyone who deserves you. It sounds crazy, but that’s what I believe,” he reached for his cross and held it tightly. “You’re such a jealous brother,” you laughed. Laz flinched. <<if $cism or $transf or $nbm>>\ “You know I’m a boy. This stuff is usually for girls.” “I don’t care,” Laz said. <<else>>\ “You really take your duty of protecting me seriously.” “I do and always will.” <</if>>\ You looked at your adoptive brother’s face until he looked back at you. His angry expression had lessened somewhat. “You don’t need to worry about Dante or anyone else,” you said. Lazlo inhaled. “What about you? Do I need to worry that you’re making a bad choice?” you asked, suddenly very curious. His eyes roamed your face. “I might make a very bad decision.” You felt a spike of something ugly curl in your stomach. “WHO?” you asked, sitting up suddenly. “Who is it?” Lazlo’s eyes widened and he sat up too. He leaned his head against the headboard and looked at you plainly. “Well?” you pressed. A small smile formed on his face. You gritted your teeth. “You don’t want to tell me? FINE! THEN GO TO HER AND LEAVE ME ALONE!” You pointed to the door and glared at him. Lazlo’s smile dropped, replaced by a sympathetic look you didn’t get. “Luce, it’s not what you think.” “And why don’t you ever call me $luce.siblingTerm?” you blurted out. Lazlo’s eyebrows rose, “Where did that come from?” “Clearly you don’t love me as much as I love you. You don’t see me as family, so get out!” you ordered. Lazlo’s mouth fell open. You growled and got up, ran to the door, and threw it open, “GO!” Lazlo looked at you with a puzzled expression. However, he did get up slowly. He walked over to the door and you looked away with a better-than-thou look. “Luce, did you say you loved me—” “GO!” you yelled again. Lazlo sighed and after looking at you briefly, he left. You slammed the door behind him. You went over to your bed and fell down on it, burying your face in your crossed arms. Trying to bury the rage, envy and pain at his rejection. Why does that poor orphan matter that much to you? You were so young then, you hadn’t mastered the art of holding a grudge and it didn’t take long for you to forget you were angry with him. But that never lasted long. <<else>>\ He blinked once and looked down at his hands. He whispered something. “What did you say?” He pressed his lips together and replied, “What were you doing with Dante?” His voice was barely audible. If you knew him better than what he let you know, perhaps you would’ve had enough confidence to say he was ashamed—of you? Of what he was asking? <<if $laz is 'politeness'>>\ Your first instinct was to tell him to screw off. Who does he think he is? But then you remembered how mad your Pa would get and you wanted to ask him about letting you go to a sleepover. Outwardly, you pretended to be nice to him. Kind, even. Ungrateful ass. What was he implying? “Nothing,” you replied. His feet remained firmly in the hallway. His mouth twitched slightly before he responded, “He was lying then.” You took a step toward him, and he backed away further into the hall. “What did he say to you?” you asked. He looked at you briefly, and what you saw in his eyes surprised you. He looked angry. His red eyebrows lowered in a way that made you take a weary step back. “He shouldn’t talk about you at all,” he said and then left. <<elseif $laz is 'contempt'>>\ You felt indignation. Who was he to question what you were doing? A nobody, that’s who. “None of your business,” you replied. His feet remained firmly in the hallway. His mouth twitched slightly before he responded, “He was lying then.” You crossed your arms. “What the heck are you talking about?” He looked at you briefly, and what you saw in his eyes surprised you. He looked angry. His red eyebrows lowered in a way that made you take a weary step back. “He shouldn’t talk about you at all,” he said and then left. <<elseif $laz is 'indifference'>>\ You were confused. You hardly ever spoke to him, or he to you. You two lived your lives without thinking about each other at all. At least that’s what you’d been doing. Why would he care about your life? Maybe because he was too much of a loser to have his own? “I don’t know why you’re asking this,” you replied. His feet remained firmly in the hallway. His mouth twitched slightly before he responded, “He was lying then.” Your confusion deepened on your face, and you looked around awkwardly, unsure how to proceed. Your eyes were wide as only uncomfortable situations can give. “He shouldn’t talk about you at all,” he said, and then you heard his steps as he walked down the hall. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 42]]

<<if $lazloIncest>>\ You took a year off school to travel. When you told your folks that you wanted to go to school in the fall in another country, Lazlo was in the room. Your parents weren’t thrilled but you know if you told your Ma it would be safer she would convince your Pa. Lazlo didn’t say anything he just watched with those calm blue eyes. As you were talking about $countrystudying, you would smile at him and he would give you nothing back. After the talk was over, and your parents left the room to discuss it, you were left alone with him in family living room. “You haven’t said anything,” you noted. “What do you want me to say?” he asked. Something about the way he said it, pissed you off. “Were you born yesterday? I want you to back me up with the folks. I want you to be happy for me.” He looked at you from across the room. He was leaning against the wall and you were in the middle of the living room. “I’m happy for you and I’ll talk to Antonio and Ana,” he replied. <<if $BL>>\ He said it like he was reciting off your script. “Gee, thanks. Who needs someone who loves them when I have my brother—who apparently loves me more than anyone—be as happy as you CLEARLY are for me,” you snorted, throwing some words he once said to you in his face. <<else>>\ He said it like he was reciting off your script. “Gee, thanks. Who needs cheerleaders when I have my brother who seems really happy that I’m happy as you CLEARLY are for me,” you snorted, throwing some words he once said to you in his face. <</if>>\ He blinked and stood up straight. “Clearly, you want me to lie to you so that’s what I’m doing.” You crossed your arms. “If you loved me, you would support me in this. I want to go away.” Lazlo crossed his arms too. “You can’t pull that cared every time you want things your way. My feelings aren’t fickle but it also doesn’t mean I’m going to say yes to everything you do especially when I think it’s dangerous.” You huffed, “You think me walking across the road is dangerous, Lazlo. New-flash I’m an adult! You can’t protect me forever. Love me like my brother would. That’s all I’m asking, can you do that?” Lazlo just looked at you. His mood seeming to have soured. You sneered at him and walked away, “Fuck you, then.” [[◎ Page 52|◎ Page 52-LAZ]] <<else>>\ You took a year off after high school to travel, and just before you went off to university, two things happened. One day, your father hired you a personal bodyguard named Charley Das. Charley was five years older than you. She had an adept knowledge of multiple languages and a talent for shooting, and she looked around your age, so she registered in all the same classes. To your friends, she was a second cousin. You didn’t know much about her. She was polite, never talked back, and tried to let you live your life with as much freedom as she could allow you. The New Year’s party worried her; there were too many people, and the balcony allowed for snipers from the neighbouring buildings. She agreed on the condition that you uninvited a quarter of the guests and allowed her a gun with more rounds. She could be overzealous. Your overall opinion was that she was <<cycle '$char' autoselect>><<option 'just doing her job'>><<option 'someone you owed your life to'>><<option 'annoyingly suffocating'>><</cycle>>. [[◎ Page 52]] <</if>>\

The second thing that happened was that your father had a very strange meeting with you the night before you were set to leave. You were in his office. He had a thin manila folder on his desk, and his hand lay on it protectively. “I have always said that no one is more trustworthy than family, Tesoro,” he began. “Yeah, I know, Dad,” you replied, bracing yourself for another one of his lectures on the importance of loyalty and sacrifice. //Kill me now.// He looked at the lit cigar in his hand. “I know I have coddled you much. But I know how dangerous my work is, so do you. I can’t afford risks, and allowing you to go so far away is a big risk I’m taking.” “I know, Dad,” you sighed. He smiled. “I’m sorry if I sound like an old fool trying to sound like a wise man. It’s just...” He got up and walked to the window. It was night, but for the city that never sleeps, the bright lights danced across his withered face. It was always so impressive to realize your parents’ age. Your dad always seemed so large to you, with a never-ending reserve of energy. “Time does pass by in a blink. I came to this country nearly forty years ago, when you could still see the occasional horse-drawn carriage in some long-forgotten, dust-buried places. I wanted to eat the world,” he reminisced. “And you did,” you said. “Isn’t New York the world?” you asked, cheekily. Your father looked back at you and smiled mysteriously. “New York is a dream, Tesoro.” “All of it is just one gilded dream,” he muttered. Your dad had an air of melancholy. You <<cycle '$dadc' autoselect>><<option 'went to comfort him'>><<option 'stayed where you were'>><<option 'wanted to leave already'>><</cycle>>. [[◎ Page 53]]

<<if $dadc is 'went to comfort him'>>\ You got up and went over to the window, you laid a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t look back but reached over and covered your hand with his. <<elseif $dadc is 'stayed where you were'>>\ You knew nothing would get him out of this state anyway and it was better to let him get to it. <<elseif $dadc is 'wanted to leave already'>>\ Your dad could go on and on for hours and you would oversleep and miss your flight which might have been his plan. <</if>>\ He shook his head and went back to sit in his chair. He grabbed the folder and held it out to you. Uncertain, you took it and began opening it. “No,” he said. You stopped. He let out a deep breath. “I need you to take that with you. Keep it safe, and don’t tell anyone you have it.” “Okay...” you said. “I mean it, Luce. This is important. You can’t show your friends or someone you like, no one. I’m trusting you with this because I know how much you love this family, and you know how much we love you,” he said gravely. “Yeah, Dad, of course,” you said. It was probably not even that serious. If it was so important, why the hell was he giving it to you? Why not Lazlo? You lost shit all the time; that’s what maids were for anyway. He looked at it and then at you, his face a mask. “Hopefully, we will never need to use it, but I don’t trust the people around me, I don’t trust the banks, and no one would suspect you have it.” “But what is it?” you asked, leaning forward. He closed his eyes. “I hope I never have to tell you.” You sighed. “That’s really damn annoying. Why give me something you can’t even tell me about?” Pa smiled softly at you. “I wonder where you get that fire from. Always wanting more.” “I got it from you, obviously. But I don’t want it if you can’t tell me what it is,” you said, holding it out to your father. He shook his head and laughed, refusing to grab it. “Keep it for me. I don’t ask for much, Luce, but this is important. If the responsibility is too much, just act as if it doesn’t exist when you hide it and you’ll see how simple it is to forget things if you really wish for it,” he explained. You groaned and dramatically fell back against the chair. Before your Pa could continue talking while you sulked, he received a call. You were going to fall asleep if you stayed and listened to boring business stuff, so you got up. “One moment, please,” Pa said to the other person on the line. He got up and <<if $cisf>>accompanied you to the door and gently squeezed your bicep. “I want you to know that even though I don’t agree with you leaving, I am very proud of the woman you are becoming, Tesoro.”<<elseif $cism>>accompanied you to the door and gently squeezed your bicep. “I want you to know that even though I don’t agree with you leaving, I am very proud of the man you are becoming, Tesoro.” <<elseif $transf>>accompanied you to the door and gently squeezed your bicep. “I want you to know that even though I don’t agree with you leaving, I am very proud of the ma—” He sighed. “The //woman// you’re becoming, Tesoro.”<<elseif $transm>> accompanied you to the door and gently squeezed your bicep. “I want you to know that even though I don’t agree with you leaving, I am very proud of the wo—” He sighed. “The //man// you’re becoming, Tesoro.”<<elseif $nbf>>accompanied you to the door and gently squeezed your bicep. “I want you to know that even though I don’t agree with you leaving, I am very proud of the wo—” He sighed. “The //person// you’re becoming, Tesoro.”<<elseif $nbm>> accompanied you to the door and gently squeezed your bicep. “I want you to know that even though I don’t agree with you leaving, I am very proud of the ma—” He sighed. “The //person// you’re becoming, Tesoro.” <</if>>\ You smiled. “You’ve told me that hundreds of times.” He nodded, a sad smile on his face. “My father never told me that, so I make up for it with you and your siblings. You’re the summit of my achievements.” You made a face. “Pa, don’t get all teary on me. You know I’m not good with crying.” He laughed and squeezed your cheek. “You’re one of a kind, mio amore,” he said and kissed you on the forehead. When he let you leave, you took the envelope to your room and threw it on top of your clothes in your suitcase, thinking that you would figure out what to do with it when you got to $countrystudying. [[◎ Page 54]]

<h2>//__''1971-1974''__//</h2>\ You lived your life, made friends, explored the city, and flew back and forth across the Atlantic for Christmas. In those years, nothing much changed in the US. You went to school to study <<cycle '$studies' autoselect>><<option 'law'>><<option 'fashion'>><<option 'medicine'>><<option 'chemistry'>><<option 'business'>><<option 'art'>><<option 'languages'>><</cycle>>. You liked it, and you were good at it. You did what you could to distract yourself from ugly thoughts and feelings. You refused to keep up with the Vietnam War, didn’t read the news to see the massacre in Munich at the Olympic Games, and didn’t hear about Watergate until well after Nixon resigned. The first and last time you heard about the famine in Bangladesh was when you were stopped by someone at the university asking for donations. You kept your mind busy with parties, schoolwork, friends, and a groovy good time. You couldn’t not have anything to do, so you got into <<cycle '$pastime' autoselect>><<option 'sex'>><<option 'boxing'>><<option 'rock and roll'>><<option 'running'>><<option 'swimming'>><<option 'drinking'>><<option 'dope'>><</cycle>>. To you, the world was now. Yesterday and tomorrow didn’t matter. Why should they, if you could die at any moment? One day, you were stopped by a group of communists giving out flyers to come to a meeting about the evils of capitalism and whatnot. One of the girls tried to force you to take one. “Do you know that the animal coat you’re wearing was made by Pakistani children in factories?” she asked you. You tried to sidestep her, but she was quicker. “No, and I need to get to class because unlike you homeless bums, people actually care what I have to say.” <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ She got up in your face, her group of equally unwashed, long-haired sidekicks surrounding you. “Rich bitch thinks that the world revolves around her.” <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ She got up in your face, her group of equally unwashed, long-haired sidekicks surrounding you. “Rich asshole thinks that the world revolves around him.” <<else>>\ She got up in your face, her group of equally unwashed, long-haired sidekicks surrounding you. “Rich asshole thinks that the world revolves around them.” <</if>>\ “It does, maybe if you were better it would revolve around you.” //“It’s people like you who are ruining the chances for a Marxist revolution.”// “Thank God, cause I like my capitalist pigs, thank you very much.” //“Would you like to work 12 hour days for 3 American cents?”// “No, I’d like an army of kids to do it for me.” //“Don’t you care about civil rights?”// “Only my own.” //“How do you sleep at night?”// “On satin sheets,” you said glibly. They crowded closer, and one of them seemed to be pulling something out of his pocket when a voice said, “Campus security, please let $luce.obj pass or else I will be forced to remove you from the premises.” Your bodyguard had one hand on her gun and the other held up a fake badge that looked really good for what it was. You’d ask her where she got it from later. The ringleader looked from her to you, not wanting to be seen as weak. You rolled your eyes and shoved her aside. <<cycle '$callback' autoselect>><<option '“Fuck you and your damn movement, dirty hippies.”'>><<option '“Maybe use that energy to find a job, you wastes of space.”'>><<option '“Annoy me next time with your poverty mentality and I’ll make sure you wish you were in Vietnam.”'>><</cycle>> Your bodyguard grabbed onto your arm and guided you away as you kept yelling obscenities. You started dating. You got engaged. <<if $sam is "masc">>\ [[◎ Page 55]] <<elseif $sam is "fem">>\ [[◎ Page 55|◎ Page 55*]] <</if>>\

<<if $lovesam>>\ It happened at your favourite burger joint. You had an inkling that it was going to happen, but you were still pleasantly surprised. Sam placed it on top of your burger. He smiled at you. “Would you marry me, Luce?” You were practically screaming when you said, “YES! YES!” He put on the ring, and then you both got up so he could lift you and twirl you around. The patrons and workers cheered you on. You went back to your place that night and <<cycle '$same' autoselect>><<option 'had sex'>><<option 'cuddled'>><</cycle>>. [[◎ Page 56]] <<elseif $nolove>>\ You got engaged. It happened at your favourite burger joint. You knew it was going to happen; he warned you. You tried not to sour the mood and placed a smile you didn’t feel on your face. Sam had it placed on top of your burger. “Would you marry me, Luce?” You nodded. “Yes.” He placed the ring on your stiff finger. The patrons and workers clapped, and when he helped you up to hug you, you hugged him back without much effort. You separated and sat back down. That night you <<cycle '$same' autoselect>><<option 'had sex with him'>><<option 'went home alone'>><</cycle>>. [[◎ Page 56]] <</if>>

<<if $lovesam>>\ It happened at the most exclusive restaurant on the top floor, overlooking the city. You knew that she knew you were going to do it. You placed it in her champagne glass. When she looked down and smiled widely, you got down on one knee and asked her, “Samantha, do you want to marry me?” She placed the ring on her finger, and with tears in her eyes, she said, “I would love nothing more.” You bent up and kissed her. You went back to your place that night and <<cycle '$same' autoselect>><<option 'had sex'>><<option 'cuddled'>><</cycle>>. [[◎ Page 56|◎ Page 56*]] <<elseif $nolove>>\ You got engaged. You decided to do it at the most exclusive restaurant you could afford. At least the setting would placate the lack of enthusiasm. You tried not to sour the mood and placed a smile you didn’t feel on your face. You did the trick of having it dropped in her champagne glass. She acted surprised when you got down on one knee and said, “Will you marry me, Sam?” She smiled softly. “Of course.” You placed the ring on her finger. You got up and then went to sit back down before remembering you should kiss her. You bent over the table and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. That night you <<cycle '$same' autoselect>><<option 'had sex with her'>><<option 'went home alone'>><</cycle>>. [[◎ Page 56|◎ Page 56*]] <</if>>\

<<if $same is 'had sex'>>\ Sam’s lovemaking was regular. He didn’t blow your world, but he knew how to make you orgasm. He licked you over and over again until his face was wet with your juices. You guided his cock into your entrance and moaned when he thrust inside of you. After, he said, “I love you.” “I love you too,” you replied sleepily, laying your head on his chest. In spite of this love you proclaimed to have, you were... <<elseif $same is 'cuddled'>>\ You undressed and got under your warm sheets. He pulled you close and kissed your head. You felt his heartbeat, and for a moment, you thought of Andrea. You squeezed your eyes shut and sniffed his arm deeply to remind you where you were. “I love you,” you said. “I love you, Luce,” he replied. In spite of this love you proclaimed to have, you were... <<elseif $same is 'had sex with him'>>\ You had done this with him before, if only to know what it felt like with him. You two didn’t make love the same way. It was always cold, an obligation on your part—perhaps on his, too. After he came, he lay down next to you and fell asleep. You masturbated to finish yourself off, turned your back to him, and went to sleep. A lifetime of a loveless marriage awaited you. And because of this, you were... <<elseif $same is 'went home alone'>>\ Your apartment felt lonelier than ever that night, even though you lived with Marcela. You gave her a simplistic rundown of how it went and escaped as fast as you could. You tried to make yourself climax, but your mood ruined it. You stared up at the ceiling and hoped to sleep. A lifetime of a loveless marriage awaited you. And because of this, you were... <</if>>\ <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Faithful|◎ Page 57][$faithsam to true]] [[Unfaithful|◎ Page 57][$cheatluce to true]]

<<if $same is 'had sex with her'>>\ You had done this with her before, if only to know what it felt like with her. You two didn’t make love the same way. It was always cold, an obligation on your part—perhaps on hers, too. It never ended in satisfaction. You could swear that as she turned her back to you, she was getting the job done herself. You masturbated to finish yourself off, turned your back to her, and went to sleep. A lifetime of a loveless marriage awaited you. And because of this, you were... <<elseif $same is 'went home alone'>>\ Your apartment felt lonelier than ever that night, even though you lived with Marcela. You gave her a simplistic rundown of how it went and escaped as fast as you could. You tried to make yourself climax, but your mood ruined it. You stared up at the ceiling and hoped to sleep. A lifetime of a loveless marriage awaited you. And because of this, you were... <<elseif $same is 'had sex'>>\ Sam’s lovemaking was regular. She didn’t blow your world, but she knew how to make you orgasm. She licked you over and over again until her face was wet with your juices. You guided your fingers into her entrance and she moaned when you thrust them while circling your tongue on her nub. After, she said, “I love you.” “I love you too,” you replied sleepily, laying her head on your chest. In spite of this love you proclaimed to have, you were... <<elseif $same is 'cuddled'>>\ You undressed and got under your warm sheets. She pulled you close and kissed your head. You felt her heartbeat, and for a moment, you thought of Andrea. You squeezed your eyes shut and sniffed her arm deeply to remind you where you were. “I love you,” you said. “I love you, Luce,” she replied. In spite of this love you proclaimed to have, you were... <</if>>\ <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Faithful|◎ Page 57][$faithsam to true]] [[Unfaithful|◎ Page 57][$cheatluce to true]]

<<if $faithsam>>\ You had been raised Roman Catholic; your parents had tried to get you and Bianca to go to church every Sunday at the very least. As you got older, you would make a whole fuss about going there instead of hanging out with your friends and going to the mall—so much so, that eventually you didn’t have to go. <<if $lovesam>>\ But still, you believed in the sanctity of marriage, in loyalty. How could you ever cheat on someone you loved? How could you ever look at someone else? You didn’t cheat if you truly loved someone. But sometimes, you weren’t so sure about Sam. You would be on an outing, eating dinner or at a disco club, and $samP.possAdj eyes would linger on the sweaty, scantily clad patrons. On those nights, you two would fight horribly, getting thrown out of whatever establishment you were in. This would either lead to a heated encounter on whoever’s bed or radio silence for a week. <<elseif $nolove>>\ But still, you believed in the sanctity of marriage, in loyalty. You didn’t love Sam, but you had made a promise when you agreed to the marriage, and it meant something to you. But sometimes, you weren’t so sure about Sam. You would be on an outing, eating dinner or at a disco club, and $samP.possAdj eyes would linger on the sweaty, scantily clad patrons. On those nights, you two would fight horribly, getting thrown out of whatever establishment you were in. This would either lead to more heated fighting on the street or radio silence for a week. <</if>>\ “Why would you agree if you weren’t fucking committed to me?” you screamed, one time during a particularly hard week. <<if $sam is "masc">>\ Sam rubbed his temples. “So, because I am with you I’m not allowed to ever find anyone attractive again?” “Fuck you!” you spat. “Look at me!” you did a turn-around to show off. “You are going to marry this! Why would you ever think you could do better? Have better?” “You’ve never found someone attractive while you’ve been with me?” he asked. “Of course not!” you yelled, knowing you were lying but wanting the moral upper hand. “I am with you and that actually matters to me.” Sam smiled, as if he had found your display amusing, and that pissed you off even more. You grabbed your things, ready to leave, when he hugged you from behind. <<if $lovesam>>\ You laid your arms upon his and sighed, allowing him to turn you around and kiss you. It was how you resolved everything, and at the time you didn’t mind. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You flinched away, and he let you. Sam gestured to the couch. “Stay? We can watch M*A*S*H.” You let your things fall to the ground and joined him on the couch. <</if>>\ <<elseif $sam is "fem">>\ Sam rubbed her temples. “So, because I’m with you I’m not allowed to ever find anyone attractive again?” “Fuck you!” you spat. “Look at me!” you did a turn-around to show off. “You are going to marry this! Why would you ever think you could do better? Have better?” “You’ve never found someone attractive while you’ve been with me?” she asked. “Of course not!” you yelled, knowing you were lying but wanting the moral upper hand. “I am with you and that actually matters to me.” Sam smiled, as if she had found your display amusing, and that pissed you off even more. You grabbed your things, ready to leave, when she hugged you from behind. <<if $lovesam>>\ You laid your arms upon hers and sighed, allowing her to turn you around and kiss you. It was how you resolved everything, and at the time you didn’t mind. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You flinched away, and she let you. Sam gestured to the couch. “Stay? We can watch M*A*S*H.” You let your things fall to the ground and joined her on the couch. <</if>>\ Those things had seemed so small at the time. You had lived your life as if it were a non-stop party, and up until that point in your life, it had been. You had the life people envied, craved, and admired. You were content living in blissful ignorance. After all, why wouldn’t you have been? <</if>> [[◎ Page 61]] <<else>>\ <<audio "cheating" loop play>>\ <<if $cism or $transm>>\ You had spritzed quite a bit of cologne. You ran a comb through your hair and ran a hand down your gold necklaces. You did a complete turnaround, looking over your shoulder to see how you looked from all angles. <<elseif $cisf or $transf>>\ You had spritzed quite a bit of perfume on your chest. You ran a comb through your hair and ran a hand down your gold necklaces. You did a complete turnaround, looking over your shoulder to see how you looked from all angles. <<else>>\ You had spritzed quite a bit of body spray on your chest. You ran a comb through your hair and ran a hand down your gold necklaces. You did a complete turnaround, looking over your shoulder to see how you looked from all angles. <</if>>\ You smiled at a job well done. Had you ever missed? The doorbell to your apartment rang. You checked yourself out once more before crossing the entire apartment to touch the buzzer. You opened your front door and leaned against the door frame, schooling your face into an expression of casualness. You heard <<cycle '$n4' autoselect>><<option 'his'>><<option 'her'>><</cycle>> footsteps on the stairs for a few minutes before <<cycle '$n4p2' autoselect>><<option 'he'>><<option 'she'>><</cycle>> appeared at the end of the hall of your apartment level. You stared at them, refusing to break eye contact until <<cycle '$n4p3' autoselect>><<option 'he'>><<option 'she'>><</cycle>> stopped in front of you. Close enough to press your chest against <<cycle '$n4p4' autoselect>><<option 'his'>><<option 'hers'>><</cycle>>. “Took you long enough,” you said in greeting. “I was going to call someone else.” [[◎ Page 58]] <</if>>\

<<if '$n4' is 'his'>>\ He laughed, his shirt opening to reveal a toned chest. “The worse thing is I know you aren’t kidding and yet I’m still here.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. “Why?” You shrugged, “Because I’m hot and rich and I give you a better time than anyone else around.” <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ He smiled mischievously, “And because I can’t resist taken women.” <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ He smiled mischievously, “And because I can’t resist unavailable men.” <<else>>\ He smiled mischievously, “And because I can’t resist forbidden fruit.” <</if>>\ You mirrored his smile, “Really?” You pressed your hand against his already growing erection. “You like when I fuck you on the same bed my betrothed sleeps on?” He bit his lips as you palmed him. “Do you like it?” You licked your lips, “I love it.” You pressed your mouth against his, sticking your tongue into his mouth. You pressed your hands against his chest and guided him inside as you kicked the door behind you. Number Four was your most frequent visitor out of the Numbers. His cock was huge and whether in your mouth or someplace else, made you cum hard. You threw him back on the bed and started stripping. He looked at your body hungrily before ripping off his clothes. You made sure to space out your encounters, the last thing you needed is a obsessive freak who decides you’re his Something Serious. <<elseif '$n4' is 'her'>>\ She laughed, her dress opened to reveal her big tits jiggling. “The worse thing is I know you aren’t kidding and yet I’m still here.” She throwed her arms around your neck. “Why?” You shrugged, “Because I’m hot and rich and I give you a better time than anyone else around.” <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ He smiled mischievously, “And because I can’t resist taken women.” <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ He smiled mischievously, “And because I can’t resist unavailable men.” <<else>>\ He smiled mischievously, “And because I can’t resist forbidden fruit.” <</if>>\ You mirrored her smile, “Really?” you pressed your hand against her breast, barely being able to cup it. “You like when I fuck you on the same bed my bethroned sleeps on?” She bit her lips as you circled her nipple. “Do you like it?” You licked your lips, “I love it.” You pressed your mouth against hers, sticking your tongue into her mouth. You pressed your hands against her chest and guided her inside as you kicked the door behind you. Number Four was your most frequent visitor out of the Numbers. She squealed like a pig when you swirl your tongue along her cunt. You threw her back on the bed and started stripping. She looked at your body hungrily before ripping off her clothes. You made sure to space out your encounters, the last thing you need is a obsessive freak who decides you’re her Something Serious. <</if>>\ You’ve had one of those in every other relationship you’ve cheated on. Recently in the Sam era, you had Number Six break into your apartment last year and attempt to cut <<cycle '$n6' autoselect>><<option 'his'>><<option 'her'>><</cycle>> veins with a butter-knife if you didn’t tell <<cycle '$n6p2' autoselect>><<option 'him'>><<option 'her'>><</cycle>> you loved <<cycle '$n6p3' autoselect>><<option 'him'>><<option 'her'>><</cycle>>. It was quite the show, and poured yourself a drink as <<cycle '$n5p4' autoselect>><<option 'he'>><<option 'she'>><</cycle>> cried. You called the cops and only asked that your butter-knife be returned to you. In sex, you like... <<if $cism>>\ <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Fucking|◎ Page 59][$position1 to true]] [[Being fucked|◎ Page 59][$position1 to false]] <<elseif $transm>>\ <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Fucking|◎ Page 59*][$position1 to true]] [[Being fucked|◎ Page 59*][$position1 to false]] <<elseif $nbm>>\ <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Fucking|◎ Page 59**][$position1 to true]] [[Being fucked|◎ Page 59**][$position1 to false]] <<elseif $cisf>>\ <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Fucking|◎ Page 59***][$position1 to true]] [[Being fucked|◎ Page 59***][$position1 to false]] <<elseif $transf>>\ <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Fucking|◎ Page 59****][$position1 to true]] [[Being fucked|◎ Page 59****][$position1 to false]] <<elseif $nbf>>\ <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Fucking|◎ Page 59*****][$position1 to true]] [[Being fucked|◎ Page 59*****][$position1 to false]] <</if>>

<<if $n4 is 'his'>>\ <<if $position1>>\ You gently pumped his asshole as you sucked the tip of his cock. Number Four had his face to the side, his mouth slack in delirious pleasure as you trailed your tongue along his veiny shaft. You used your free hand to pump your own cock. Your pleasure mixed in with images of Sam—Sam somewhere in this city, going about her day none the wiser that you were choking on the cock of a muscular six-foot blond med student. It turned you on even more to think that you were doing this under her nose. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you thought as you pushed open Number Four’s thighs. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with her. You pushed open Number Four’s thighs. Sure you could’ve told her you were cheating on her but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ You grabbed onto his hip as you plowed into him, throwing your head back as you did so. You slapped his perfectly round ass cheeks. He grunted at each slap and you picked up pace. There was nothing better than the image of someone ass up and writhing beneath you. “Do you like being fucked like a whore?” you asked, moaning as you bent a leg and hit it from a different angle. He mumbled something, gripping onto the headboard, his mouth open and drooling. “What was that?” you asked, spanking him again. “I like it,” he cried as you snapped your hips against him over and over. His cheeks were reddened with your handprints. He tried to reach for his dick, but you slapped his hand again and reached down to squeeze it. Number Four jerked, his back stiffening. You felt that familiar tightening in the lower part of your stomach, so you fucked him harder, not allowing him to yell out anything but incoherent sounds. You raced toward your climax and, once reached, you pushed as deep as you could to fill him with a loud groan. He came in your hand and then his body went pliant. You fell back, and out of him. <<else>>\ He stuck his tongue into your hole, swirling it as you bucked your hips, stroking your cock. Your knees tensed and he dug his nails into your thighs. Every moan he made as he lapped, his own saliva dripping from your anus, made you sigh loudly. Your pleasure mixed in with images of Sam—Sam somewhere in this city, going about her day none the wiser as you were getting tongue-fucked by a muscular six-foot blond med student. It turned you on even more to think that you were doing this under her nose. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you thought as Number Four flipped you around, pulling your hips back. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with her. Number Four flipped you around, pulling your hips back. Sure you could’ve told her you were cheating on her but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ You groaned as Number Four impaled you, biting the pillow as he started grinding. “You like that, baby?” he asked, the sounds of his balls slapping against your thighs accentuating every word. You moaned in response, pushing back against his cock, your head knocking against the headboard as he fucked you like he owned you. Sweat dropped down your face, your heart hammered inside your chest, and his hands dug so deeply into your hips you knew it would hurt later. You reached in between your legs and started pumping at your hardness. Number Four groaned and changed angle, making both of you suck in air. You stroked yourself as quickly as he was fucking you. Sounds of wet, sticky skin and deep male sighs filled the room; the tightening in your balls told you you were close. “You want—//eghh// it?” he asked. “Fuck yes,” you moaned, “Give it to me baby, I can take it all—” You felt his hot cum filling your hole, and at the same time your sticky orgasm coated your hand. You fell forward, groaning into the pillow. <</if>>\ <<elseif $n4 is 'her'>>\ <<if $position1>>\ Number Four gargled on your balls as she pumped your painfully erect cock. You had your hand tangled in her hair, just waiting to force her pretty throat to take your entire length. You hissed when her tongue trailed to the base of your shaft. Your pleasure mixed in with images of Sam—Sam somewhere in this city, going about her day none the wiser as a pretty four-foot blonde psych student choked on your cock. It turned you on even more to think that you were doing this under her nose. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you thought as you pulled her away from your dick and lifted her by her hips. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with her. You pulled Number Four away from your dick and lifted her by her hips. Sure you could’ve told her you were cheating on her but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ You didn’t even wait to ask if she was ready because you couldn’t take it anymore. You slammed her down on your cock as she screamed. You didn’t give her time to adjust as you lifted her and dropped her to the hilt again and again. Her tits bounced up and down; you sat up, one hand cupping her ass as you took her nipple into your mouth. She threw her head back. You then used both your hands to cup her plump ass, guiding her movements. “Oh God, yes!” she groaned as she ground on you, her slickness coating your cock each time you lifted her. You moved to her other tit and bit hard on her big, erect nipple. She whined; more of her wetness spilled onto your pubic hair. She reached down to try and masturbate herself, but you slapped her hand away and jerked your hips up in a relentless pace. Her tits hit your face as she was now jumping on your cock. You leaned back, using one hand to guide her as you felt your orgasm approaching. “Fuck, babe, that’s it,” you moaned, feeling your cum shoot into her tight little cunt. She squeezed you until she milked everything you had to offer. <<else>>\ You moaned into the pillow as Number Four had your ass cheeks pushed apart for her to penetrate your hole with her pretty little pink tongue. The lewd wet sounds made your cock ache. You had your hand on her head, pressing her closer. Your pleasure mixed in with images of Sam—Sam somewhere in this city, going about her day none the wiser as a pretty four-foot blonde psych student made your asshole gape. It turned you on even more to think that you were doing this under her nose. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you thought as Number Four took her tongue out and slightly pushed your hips down. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with her. Number Four took her tongue out and slightly pushed your hips down. Sure you could’ve told her you were cheating on her but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ You screamed into your pillow as she didn’t even wait before slamming into you with her fake cock. She dug her long nails into your skin as she pumped into you. You arched your back, allowing her to hit that angle you loved so much. You took her hand and pressed her long nails into your skin, hoping to draw some pain. “Fuck me,” you groaned, “Fuck me, make me your bitch.” Number Four spread your ass, stretching your hole with a sharp pain that stung and yet was offset perfectly by the sensation of her cock in your wet, tight hole. You reached in between your legs and stroked your warm, hard dick. Her nails broke the skin of your hips, coating her fingers in your blood. You groaned so loudly you felt the tip of your cock starting to leak. “Fuck me harder, baby. Make me scream.” She slammed into you with such force that you hit your head against the headboard, and that pain, combined with the blood trailing down your legs and what she was doing to your abused, leaky hole, was too much for your aching cock. You spilled on the sheets, landing in your mess and moaning into your wet pillow. <</if>>\ <</if>> [[◎ Page 60]]

<<if $n4 is 'his' and $position1>>\ You gently pumped his asshole as you sucked the tip of his cock. Number Four had his face to the side, his mouth slack in delirious pleasure as you trailed your tongue along his veiny shaft. You used your free hand to pump your own cock. Your pleasure mixed in with images of Sam—Sam somewhere in this city, going about her day none the wiser that you were choking on the cock of a muscular six-foot blond med student. It turned you on even more to think that you were doing this under her nose. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you though as you pushed open Number Four’s thighs. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you couldn’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with her. You pushed opened Number Four’s thighs. Sure you could’ve told her you were cheating on him but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ You grab onto his hip as you plow into him, gushing at the motion. You slap his perfectly round ass cheeks. He grunts at each slap and you pick up pace. There’s nothing better than the image of someone ass up and writhing beneath you. “Do you like being fucked like a whore?” you asked, moaning as you bent a leg and hit it from a different angle. He mumbled something, gripping onto the headboard, his mouth open and drooling. “What was that?” you asked, spanking him again. “I like it,” he cried as you snapped your hips against him over and over. His cheeks were reddened with your handprints. He tried to reach for his dick, but you slapped his hand again and reached down to squeeze it. Number Four jerked, his back stiffening. You felt that familiar tightening in the lower part of your stomach, so you fucked him harder, not allowing him to yell out anything but incoherent sounds. You raced toward his climax, and once reached, you pushed as deep as you could, staying there as his asshole opened and closed on your red cock. He came in your hand and then his body went pliant. You fell back and out of him. <<elseif $n4 is 'his' and not $position1>>\ He stuck his tongue into your hole, swirling it as you bucked your hips, stroking your folds. Your knees tensed and he dug his nails into your thighs. Every moan he made as he lapped, his own saliva dripping from your anus, made you sigh loudly. Your pleasure mixed in with images of Sam—Sam somewhere in this city, going about her day none the wiser as you were getting tongue-fucked by a muscular six-foot blond med student. It turned you on even more to think that you were doing this under her nose. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you think as Number Four flipped you around, pulling your hips back. You want to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you don’t want to be with her. Number Four flipped you around, pulling your hips back. Sure you could’ve told her you were cheating on him but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ You groan as he impales you, biting the pillow as he starts grinding. “You like that, baby?” he asks, the sounds of his balls slapping against your thighs accentuates every word. You moan in response, pushing back against his cock, your head knocking against the headboard as he fucked you like he owned you. Sweat drops down your face, your heart hammers inside your chest and his hands dig so deeply into your hips you know it’ll hurt later. You reach in between your legs and start stroking at your wetness. Number Four groans and changes angle, making both of you suck in air. You stroke yourself as quickly as he’s fucking you. Sounds of wet sticky skin and deep male sighs fill the room, the tightening in your stomach tells you your close. “You want—//eghh// it?” he asks. “Fuck yes,” you moan, “Give it to me baby, I can take it all—” you feel his hot cum filling your hole and at the same time your sticky orgasm coats your hand. You fall forward, groaning into the pillow. <<elseif $n4 is 'her' and $position1>>\ Number Four gargles sucks on your nipples, her fingers working at your hole. You have your hand tangled in her hair, just waiting to force her pretty throat to lube up your cock. You hiss when her tongue trails to the mound. You bring the cock over to her and stick it in her panting mouth. Your pleasure mixes in with the images of Sam, Sam somewhere in this city, going about her day none-the-wiser as a pretty 4 foot blonde psych student chokes on your cock. It turns you on even more to think that you’re doing this under her nose. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you though as you pulled her away from your dick and lifted her by her hips. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with Sam. You pulled her away from your dick and lifted her by her hips. Sure you could’ve told Sam you were cheating on her but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ You don’t even wait to ask if she’s ready because you can’t take it anymore. You slam her down on your cock as she screams. You don’t give her time to adjust as you lift her and drop her to the hilt again and again. Her tits bounce up and down, you sit up, one hand cupping her ass as you take her nipple into your mouth. She throws her head back. You then use both your hands to cup her plump ass, guiding her movements. “Oh God, yes!” she groans as she grinds on you, her slickness coating your cock each time you lift her. You move to her other tit and bite hard on her big erect nipple. She whines, more of her wetness spills onto your pubic hair. She reaches down to try and masturbate herself but you slap her hand away and jerk your hips up in a relentless pace. Her tits hit your face as she’s now jumping on your cock. You lean back, using one hand to guide her as you feel her orgasm approaching. “Fuck, babe, that’s it,” you moan, feeling watching her rub herself. She squeezes you until you milk everything everything she has to offer. <<elseif $n4 is 'her' and not $position1>>\ You moaned into the pillow as Number Four had your ass cheeks pushed apart for her to penetrate your hole with her pretty little pink tongue. The lewd wet sounds made your cock ache. You had your hand on her head, pressing her closer. Your pleasure mixed in with images of Sam—Sam somewhere in this city, going about her day none the wiser as a pretty four-foot blonde psych student made your asshole gape. It turned you on even more to think that you were doing this under her nose. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you thought as she took her tongue out and slightly pushed your hips down. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with Sam. She took her tongue out and slightly pushed your hips down. Sure you could’ve told Sam you were cheating on her but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ You screamed into your pillow as she didn’t even wait before slamming into you with her fake cock. She dug her long nails into your skin as she pumped into you. You arched your back, allowing her to hit that angle you loved so much. You took her hand and pressed her long nails into your skin, hoping to draw some pain. “Fuck me,” you groaned, “Fuck me, make me your bitch.” Number Four spread your ass, stretching your hole with a sharp pain that stung and yet was offset perfectly by the sensation of her cock in your wet, tight hole. You reached in between your legs and stroked your warm, wet folds. Her nails broke the skin of your hips, coating her fingers in your blood. You groaned so loudly you felt it leaking down your thighs. “Fuck me harder, baby. Make me scream.” She slammed into you with such force that you hit your head against the headboard, and that pain, combined with the blood trailing down your legs and what she was doing to your abused, leaky hole, was too much for your aching body. You spilled on the sheets, landing in your mess and moaning into your wet pillow. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 60]]

<<if $n4 is 'his' and $position1>>\ You gently pumped his asshole as you sucked the tip of his cock. Number Four had his face to the side, his mouth slack in delirious pleasure as you trailed your tongue along his veiny shaft. You used your free hand to pump your own member. Your pleasure mixed in with images of Sam—Sam somewhere in this city, going about her day none the wiser that you were choking on the cock of a muscular six-foot blond med student. It turned you on even more to think that you were doing this under her nose. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you thought as you pushed opened Number Four’s thighs. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you don’t want to be with her. You push open Number Four’s thighs. Sure you could’ve told her you were cheating on her but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ You grabbed onto his hip as you plowed into him, throwing your head back as you did so. You slapped his perfectly round ass cheeks. He grunted at each slap and you picked up pace. There was nothing better than the image of someone ass-up and writhing beneath you. “Do you like being fucked like a whore?” you asked, moaning as you bent a leg and hit it from a different angle. He mumbled something, gripping onto the headboard, his mouth open and drooling. “What was that?” you asked, spanking him again. “I like it,” he cried as you snapped your hips against him over and over. His cheeks were reddened with your handprints. He tried to reach for his dick, but you slapped his hand again and reached down to squeeze it. Number Four jerked, his back stiffening. You felt that familiar tightening in the lower part of your stomach, so you fucked him harder, not allowing him to yell out anything but incoherent sounds. You raced toward your climax, and once reached, you pushed as deep as you could to fill him with a loud groan. He came in your hand and then his body went pliant. You fell back, and out of him. <<elseif $n4 is 'his' and not $position1>>\ He stuck his tongue into your hole, swirling it as you bucked your hips, stroking your member. Your knees tensed and he dug his nails into your thighs. Every moan he made as he lapped, his own saliva dripping from your anus, made you sigh loudly. Your pleasure mixed in with images of Sam—Sam somewhere in this city, going about her day none the wiser as you were getting tongue-fucked by a muscular six-foot blond med student. It turned you on even more to think that you were doing this under her nose. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you thought as Number Four flipped you around, pulling your hips back. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with her. Number Four flipped you around, pulling your hips back. Sure you could’ve told her you were cheating on her but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ You groaned as Number Four impaled you, biting the pillow as he started grinding. “You like that, baby?” he asked, the sound of his balls slapping against your thighs accentuating every word. You moaned in response, pushing back against his cock, your head knocking against the headboard as he fucked you like he owned you. Sweat dropped down your face, your heart hammered inside your chest, and his hands dug so deeply into your hips you knew it would hurt later. You reached in between your legs and started pumping at your hardness. Number Four groaned and changed angle, making both of you suck in air. You stroked yourself as quickly as he was fucking you. Sounds of wet, sticky skin and deep male sighs filled the room; the tightening in your balls told you you’re close. “You want—//eghh// it?” he asked. “Fuck yes,” you moaned, “Give it to me baby, I can take it all—” You felt his hot cum filling your hole, and at the same time your sticky orgasm coated your hand. You fell forward, groaning into the pillow. <<elseif $n4 is 'her' and $position1>>\ Number Four gargled on your balls as she pumped your painfully erect cock. You had your hand tangled in her hair, just waiting to force her pretty throat to take your entire length. You hissed when her tongue trailed to the base of your shaft. Your pleasure mixed in with images of Sam—Sam somewhere in this city, going about her day none the wiser as a pretty four-foot blonde psych student choked on your cock. It turned you on even more to think that you were doing this under her nose. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you though as you pulled her away from your dick and lifted her by her hips. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with her. You pulled her away from your dick and lifted her by her hips. Sure you could’ve told her you were cheating on her but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ You didn’t even wait to ask if she was ready because you couldn’t take it anymore. You slammed her down on your shaft as she screamed. You didn’t give her time to adjust as you lifted her and dropped her to the hilt again and again. Her tits bounced up and down. You sat up, one hand cupping her ass as you took her nipple into your mouth. She threw her head back. You then used both your hands to cup her plump ass, guiding her movements. “Oh God, yes!” she groaned as she ground on you, her slickness coating your genitals each time you lifted her. You moved to her other tit and bit hard on her big, erect nipple. She whined, more of her wetness spilled onto your pubic hair. She reached down to try and masturbate herself, but you slapped her hand away and jerked your hips up in a relentless pace. Her tits hit your face as she was now jumping on your junk. You leaned back, using one hand to guide her as you felt your orgasm approaching. “Fuck, babe, that’s it,” you moaned, feeling your cum shoot into her tight little cunt. She squeezed you until she milked everything you had to offer. <<elseif $n4 is 'her' and not $position1>>\ You moaned into the pillow as Number Four had your ass cheeks pushed apart for her to penetrate your hole with her pretty little pink tongue. The lewd wet sounds made your cock ache. You had your hand on her head, pressing her closer. Your pleasure mixed in with images of Sam—Sam somewhere in this city, going about her day none the wiser as a pretty four-foot blonde psych student made your asshole gape. It turned you on even more to think that you were doing this under her nose. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you though as she took her tongue out and slightly pushed your hips down. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with her. She took her tongue out and slightly pushed your hips down. Sure you could’ve told her you were cheating on her but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ YYou screamed into your pillow as she didn’t even wait before slamming into you with her fake cock. She dug her long nails into your skin as she pumped into you. You arched your back, allowing her to hit that angle you loved so much. You took her hand and pressed her long nails into your skin, hoping to draw some pain. “Fuck me,” you groaned, “Fuck me, make me your bitch.” Number Four spread your ass, stretching your hole with a sharp pain that stung and yet was offset perfectly by the sensation of her cock in your wet, tight hole. You reached in between your legs and stroked your warm, hard genitals. Her nails broke the skin of your hips, coating her fingers in your blood. You groaned so loudly you felt the tip of your cock starting to leak. “Fuck me harder, baby. Make me scream.” She slammed into you with such force that you hit your head against the headboard, and that pain, combined with the blood trailing down your legs and what she was doing to your abused, leaky hole, was too much for your aching genitals. You spilled on the sheets, landing in your mess and moaning into your wet pillow. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 60]]

<<if $n4 is 'his' and not $position1>>\ He had your legs thrown over his shoulders as he lapped at your wetness. You bit your lips hard enough to draw blood. You arched your back, allowing your pert nipples to point up. You licked your fingers and pinched them. Your pleasure mixed in with images of Sam—Sam somewhere in this city, going about his day none the wiser that you were being eaten out by a muscular six-foot blond med student. It turned you on even more to think that you were doing this under his nose. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you thought as Number Four grabbed your thighs, pulling you closer to his hard cock. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with him. Number Four grabbed your thighs, pulling you closer to his hard cock. Sure you could’ve told him you were cheating on him but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ He used his hand to guide his dick into you; you gasped as he slid inside without much resistance before pulling out. He made you scream as he slammed back in. You wrapped your legs around his hips as he slid easily in and out of your wet pussy. Your erect nipples rubbed against his hard chest and you hissed through your clenched teeth. He tried not to add his weight on top of you, but you grabbed his ass cheek and squeezed, pushing his body on top of yours in a suffocating embrace. You dug your finger into his tiny hole, rubbing its slick entrance. He groaned and hammered into you more vigorously; you dug your fingers into his shoulder and ran your tongue along his ear, moaning loudly as he thrust so hard the bed hit the wall. You slipped your hand in between your sweaty bodies and started rubbing your clit quickly. You tightened around his veiny cock and he gasped, his thrusts faltering as he neared his own climax. You felt that swirling peak climbing and pushed him away, whining as you wet your sheets with your juices. <<elseif $n4 is 'his' and $position1>>\ You felt Number Four tighten against you as you inserted another finger into his slick asshole. He had his arms thrown over his head, moaning into the pillow. You reached underneath him to rub his leaking tip and he shuddered. Your pleasure mixed in with images of Sam—Sam somewhere in this city, going about his day none the wiser than you were choking on the cock of a muscular six-foot blond med student. It turned you on even more to think that you were doing this under his nose. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you thought as you pushed open Number Four’s thighs. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with him. You pushed open Number Four’s thighs. Sure you could’ve told him you were cheating on him but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ You coated your purple cock with lube and positioned yourself. “L—” he began, but was cut off by his own scream as you plowed into him mercilessly. You snapped your hips against his, relishing the power of watching him splayed open and submissive beneath you. “You like getting fucked by a girl? You like opening your legs like a whore for me?” you prodded. “Yes,” he said brokenly. You stopped thrusting and he sighed in dismay, before you slammed deep into him, making him cry out. “Do you love it?” You bent one leg to change your angle, which made his eyes widen as he reached back to grip your thigh. “Y-yes,” he whined. “Tell me you love it!” you demanded, increasing your speed, abusing his asshole—what belonged to you. “I love it! Fuck I love it!” he screamed as you grabbed onto his hips and pulled him onto your cock. He bit into the pillow, indescribable words slipping from his mouth as he shot stripes of white-hot cum onto the bed. <<elseif $n4 is 'her' and not $position1>>\ Her fingers pumped into your pussy as she sucked on your nub, making you grip her soft, silky hair and attempt to grind on her mouth. She moaned contentedly against your folds, which caused your thighs to shake. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you thought as she lathered her cock, one hand rubbing your cunt. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with him. She lathered her cock, one hand rubbing your cunt. Sure you could’ve told him you were cheating on him but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ She spread your thighs apart and laid a hand on your stomach. Your abdomen spasmed under her touch. She pushed past your resistance and you moaned loudly. She lifted your legs to drape over her shoulders, changing the angle of her thrusting and making you scream. You arched your back and pulled at your nipples, licking your lips as the intoxicating pain and pleasure made your stomach muscles squirm. Number Four licked her thumb and reached in between your humid thighs to rub the nub of your pussy. You bit your lips and felt your thighs quiver. She planted kisses along your legs, occasionally sucking. “Fuck me so good,” you whined, “Do whatever you want to me, baby.” “Do you wanna cum, beautiful?” she asked in that innocent voice that drove you crazy and made you want to stick your tongue in her pussy. You nodded compliantly. She rubbed your clit harder, and the lewd slapping of her thighs against your slick ass cheeks was the symphony to your oncoming climax. Your legs stiffened and you screamed her name as you coated her cock with your juices, warming the sheet beneath you with the sticky evidence of how hard you came. The smell of your sex made your head dizzy. <<elseif $n4 is 'her' and $position1>>\ Your mouth was bathed in her juices as you slurped up whatever her tiny hole had to offer you. Number Four’s huge tits bounced as she was fucked by your tongue. You reached over and twisted her nipple, which elicited a small cry. Your pleasure mixed in with images of Sam—Sam somewhere in this city, going about his day none the wiser that you were being eaten out by a muscular six-foot blond med student. It turned you on even more to think that you were doing this under his nose. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you thought as you circled her cunt with the head of your plastic purple cock. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with him. You circled her cunt with the head of your plastic purple cock. Sure you could’ve told him you were cheating on him but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ You pushed in little by little as her hole opened to accommodate your size. But as her tits stopped shaking, you grew impatient and slammed into her, making her breasts flop around as she threw her head back in a scream. “That’s right, babe, take it all,” you cooed. She rubbed her tits and nearly mewed as you lifted one of her legs and opened her up. You bit her thigh and she jerked up. You grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed, forcing her back down as you threw her leg around your hip and used her huge tit for purchase. Her curves were slick with sweat and you bent down to drag your tongue along her smooth stomach. You circled her belly button and she grabbed onto your hair. You slid your hand in between her fat thighs and rubbed her tiny nub. She pulled on your hair and moaned against her skin, sticking your tongue into her belly button. She groaned, the wetness of her cunt sounding loudly in the room. “You want to cum for me, gorgeous?” you asked. She nodded, “Yes, I wanna cum for you.” You slapped her clit and plunged deeply into her pussy. She cried out, her body jerking wildly as she came all over your cock, coating your thighs. You took a dab with your finger and stuck it in your mouth as her heavy chest heaved up and down. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 60]]

<<if $n4 is 'his' and not $position1>>\ He had your legs thrown over his shoulders as he lapped at your tip. You bit your lips hard enough to draw blood. You arched your back, allowing your pert nipples to point up. You licked your fingers and pinched them. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you thought as he grabbed your thighs, pulling you closer to his hard cock. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with her. He grabbed your thighs, pulling you closer to his hard cock. Sure you could’ve told her you were cheating on her but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ He used his hand to guide his dick into you; you gasped as he slid inside without much resistance before pulling out. He made you scream as he slammed back in. You wrapped your legs around his hips as he slid easily in and out of your wet hole. Your erect nipples rubbed against his hard chest and you hissed through your clenched teeth. He tried not to add his weight on top of you, but you grabbed his ass cheek and squeezed, pushing his body on top of yours in a suffocating embrace. You dug your finger into his tiny hole, rubbing its slick entrance. He groaned and hammered into you more vigorously. You dug your fingers into his shoulder and ran your tongue along his ear, moaning loudly as he thrust so hard the bed hit the wall. You slipped your hand in between your sweaty bodies and started rubbing your cock quickly. You tightened around his veiny cock and he gasped, his thrusts faltering as he neared his own climax. You felt that swirling peak climbing and pushed him away, whining as you wet your sheets with your juices. <<elseif $n4 is 'his' and $position1>>\ You felt Number Four tighten against you as you inserted another finger into his slick asshole. He had his arms thrown over his head, moaning into the pillow. You reached underneath him to rub his leaking tip and he shuddered. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you thought as pushed his hips down and spread his hole open. You wanteded to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with her. You pushed his hips down and spread his hole open. Sure you could’ve told her you were cheating on her but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>> You coated your hard cock with lube and positioned yourself. “L—” he began, but was cut off by his own scream as you plowed into him mercilessly. You snapped your hips against his, relishing the power of watching him splayed open and submissive beneath you. “You like getting fucked by a girl? You like opening your legs like a whore for me?” you prodded. “Yes,” he said brokenly. You stopped thrusting and he sighed in dismay, before you slammed deep into him, making him cry out. “Do you love it?” You bent one leg to change your angle, which made his eyes widen as he reached back to grip your thigh. “Y-yes,” he whined. “Tell me you love it!” you demanded, increasing your speed, abusing his asshole—what belonged to you. “I love it! Fuck I love it!” he screamed as you grabbed onto his hips and pulled him onto your cock. He bit into the pillow, indescribable words slipping from his mouth as he shot stripes of white-hot cum onto the bed. You groaned and spilled inside. <<elseif $n4 is 'her' and not $position1>>\ Her fingers pumped into your asshole as she sucked on your tip, making you grip her soft, silky hair and attempt to grind on her mouth. She moaned contentedly against your folds, which caused your thighs to shake. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you thought as she lathered her cock, one hand rubbing your cock. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with her. She lathered her cock, one hand rubbing your cock. Sure you could’ve told her you were cheating on her but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ He spread your thighs apart and laid a hand on your stomach. Your abdomen spasmed under her touch. She pushed past your resistance and you moaned loudly. She lifted your legs to drape over her shoulders, changing the angle of her thrusting and making you scream. You arched your back and pulled at your nipples, licking your lips as the intoxicating pain and pleasure made your stomach muscles squirm. Number Four licked her thumb and reached in between your humid thighs to stroke your shaft. You bit your lips and felt your thighs quiver. She planted kisses along your legs, occasionally sucking. “Fuck me so good,” you whined, “Do whatever you want to me, baby.” “Do you wanna cum, beautiful?” she asked in that innocent voice that drove you crazy and made you want to stick your tongue in her pussy. You nodded compliantly. She rubbed your dick harder, and the lewd slapping of her thighs against your slick ass cheeks was the symphony to your oncoming climax. Your legs stiffened and you screamed her name as you coated the bed with your semen, warming the sheet beneath you with the sticky evidence of how hard you came. The smell of your sex made your head dizzy. <<elseif $n4 is 'her' and $position1>>\ Your mouth was bathed in her juices as you slurped up whatever her tiny hole had to offer you. Number Four’s huge tits bounced as she was fucked by your tongue. You reached over and twisted her nipple, which elicited a small cry. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you thought as you circled her cunt with the head of your purple cock. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with her. You circled her cunt with the head of your purple cock. Sure you could’ve told Sam you were cheating on her but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ You pushed in little by little as her hole opened to accommodate your size. But as her tits stopped shaking, you grew impatient and slammed into her, making her breasts flop around as she threw her head back in a scream. “That’s right, babe, take it all,” you cooed. She rubbed her tits and nearly mewed as you lifted one of her legs and opened her up. You bit her thigh and she jerked up. You grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed, forcing her back down as you threw her leg around your hip and used her huge tit for purchase. Her curves were slick with sweat and you bent down to drag your tongue along her smooth stomach. You circled her belly button and she grabbed onto your hair. You slid your hand in between her fat thighs and rubbed her tiny nub. She pulled on your hair and you moaned against her skin, sticking your tongue into her belly button. She groaned, the wetness of her cunt sounding loudly in the room. “You want to cum for me, gorgeous?” you asked. She nodded, “Yes, I wanna cum for you.” You slapped her clit and plunged deeply into her pussy. She cried out, her body jerking wildly as she came all over your cock, coating your thighs. You chased your release within her sticky folds and soon enough took your cock out and finished on her stomach. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 60]]

<<if $n4 is 'his' and $position1>>\ You gently pumped his asshole as you sucked the tip of his cock. Number Four had his face to the side, his mouth slack in delirious pleasure as you trailed your tongue along his veiny shaft. You used your free hand to rub your own genitals. Your pleasure mixed in with images of Sam—Sam somewhere in this city, going about his day none the wiser that you were choking on the cock of a muscular six-foot blond med student. It turned you on even more to think that you were doing this under his nose. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you thought as you pushed open Number Four’s thighs. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with him. You push open Number Four’s thighs. Sure you could’ve told him you were cheating on him but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ You reached over for the dildo, lathering it with lube. You grabbed onto his hip as you plowed into him, throwing your head back as you did so. You slapped his perfectly round ass cheeks. He grunted at each slap and you picked up pace. There was nothing better than the image of someone ass up and writhing beneath you. “Do you like being fucked like a whore?” you asked, panting as you bent a leg and hit it from a different angle. He mumbled something, gripping onto the headboard, his mouth open and drooling. “What was that?” you asked, spanking him again. “I like it,” he cried as you snapped your hips against him over and over. His cheeks were reddened with your handprints. He tried to reach for his dick, but you slapped his hand again and reached down to squeeze it. Number Four jerked, his back stiffening. You saw that familiar squeezing of his anus, so you fucked him harder, not allowing him to yell out anything but incoherent sounds. You raced toward his climax, and once reached, you pushed as deep as you could, and he groaned loudly. He came in your hand and then his body went pliant. You fell back, and out of him. <<elseif $n4 is 'his' and not $position1>>\ He stuck his tongue into your hole, swirling it as you bucked your hips, stroking your wetness. Your knees tensed and he dug his nails into your thighs. Every moan he made as he lapped, his own saliva dripping from your genitals, made you sigh loudly. Your pleasure mixed in with images of Sam—Sam somewhere in this city, going about his day none the wiser as you were getting tongue-fucked by a muscular six-foot blond med student. It turned you on even more to think that you were doing this under his nose. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you thought as Number Four flipped you around, pulling your hips back. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you don’t want to be with her. Number Four flipped you around, pulling your hips back. Sure you could’ve told him you were cheating on him but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ You groaned Number Four impaled you, biting the pillow as he started grinding. “You like that, baby?” he asked, the sounds of his balls slapping against your thighs accentuating every word. You moaned in response, pushing back against his cock, your head knocking against the headboard as he fucked you like he owned you. Sweat dropped down your face, your heart hammered inside your chest, and his hands dug so deeply into your hips you knew it would hurt later. You reached in between your legs and started stroking at your slick folds. Number Four groaned and changed angle, making both of you suck in air. You stroked yourself as quickly as he was fucking you. Sounds of wet, sticky skin and deep male sighs filled the room; the tightening in your lower belly told you you were close. “You want—//eghh// it?” he asked. “Fuck yes,” you moaned, “Give it to me baby, I can take it all—” You felt his hot cum filling your hole, and at the same time your sticky orgasm coated your hand. You fell forward, groaning into the pillow. <<elseif $n4 is 'her' and $position1>> Number Four gargled on your blue cock as she sucked your hardened nipples. You had your hand tangled in her hair, just waiting to force her pretty throat to take your entire length. You hissed when her tongue trailed to your belly button. Your pleasure mixed in with images of Sam—Sam somewhere in this city, going about his day none the wiser as a pretty four-foot blonde psych student choked on your cock. It turned you on even more to think that you were doing this under his nose. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you thought as you puledl her away from your dick and lifted her by her hips. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with him. You pulled her away from your dick and lifted her by her hips. Sure you could’ve told him you were cheating on him but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ You didn’t even wait to ask if she was ready because you couldn’t take it anymore. You slammed her down on your shaft as she screamed. You didn’t give her time to adjust as you lifted her and dropped her to the hilt again and again. Her tits bounced up and down; you sat up, one hand cupping her ass as you took her nipple into your mouth. She threw her head back. You then used both your hands to cup her plump ass, guiding her movements. “Oh God, yes!” she groaned as she ground on you, her slickness coating your genitals each time you lifted her. You moved to her other tit and bit hard on her big, erect nipple. She whined; more of her wetness spilled onto your pubic hair. She reached down to try and masturbate herself, but you slapped her hand away and jerked your hips up in a relentless pace. Her tits hit your face as she was now jumping on your junk. You leaned back, using one hand to guide her as you felt your orgasm approaching. “Fuck, babe, that’s it,” you moaned, feeling yourself nearly cum from just watching her. She squeezed you until she milked everything you had to offer. <<elseif $n4 is 'her' and not $position1>>\ You moaned into the pillow as Number Four had your ass cheeks pushed apart for her to penetrate your hole with her pretty little pink tongue. The lewd wet sounds made your cock ache. You had your hand on her head, pressing her closer. Your pleasure mixed in with images of Sam—Sam somewhere in this city, going about his day none the wiser as a pretty four-foot blonde psych student made your hole gape. It turned you on even more to think that you were doing this under his nose. <<if $lovesam>>\ You don’t know why you’re like this. //I adore Sam//, you thought as she took her tongue out and slightly pushed your hips down. You wanted to be with Sam forever but you can’t be with one person. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You’ve made it no secret you didn’t want to be with him. She took her tongue out and slightly pushed your hips down. Sure you could’ve told Sam you were cheating on him but, well that’s no fun. It takes away the element of forbidden fruit. <</if>>\ You screamed into your pillow as she didn’t even wait before slamming into you with her fake cock. She dug her long nails into your skin as she pumped into you. You arched your back, allowing her to hit that angle you loved so much. You took her hand and pressed her long nails into your skin, hoping to draw some pain. “Fuck me,” you groaned, “Fuck me, make me your bitch.” Number Four spread your ass, stretching your hole with a sharp pain that stung and yet was offset perfectly by the sensation of her cock in your wet, tight hole. You reached in between your legs and stroked your warm, hard genitals. Her nails broke the skin of your hips, coating her fingers in your blood. You groaned so loudly you felt yout secretions run down your thighs. “Fuck me harder, baby. Make me scream.” She slammed into you with such force that you hit your head against the headboard, and that pain, combined with the blood trailing down your legs and what she was doing to your abused, leaky hole, was too much for your aching genitals. You spilled on the sheets, landing in your mess and moaning into your wet pillow. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 60]]

Afterward, you both lay side by side, staring up at the ceiling, your juices having grown cold beneath you on the sheet. A ring cut through the silence and you waited for it to stop. Once it did, you attempted to close your eyes before it rang again and you swore, standing up. You picked it up and annoyingly asked, “What is the big fucking deal?” “Luce?” Sam’s voice asked from the other end. You closed your eyes and internally sighed. You waited a moment before replying, “Hey.” <<if $sam is "masc">>\ <<if $n4 is 'his'>>\ “Hey,” he said as he began to recount to you a fight between two old cats at the mall. Number Four came out of the room and you pressed your finger to your lips. He raised his hands and walked naked to the kitchen. You felt your pussy ache as you watched his ass sway in the daylight. <<elseif $n4 is 'her'>>\ “Hey,” he said as he began to recount to you a fight between two old cats at the mall. Number Four came out of the room and you pressed your finger to your lips. She raised her hands and walked naked to the kitchen. You felt your pussy ache as you watched her ass sway in the daylight. <</if>>\ <<elseif $sam is "fem">>\ <<if $n4 is 'his'>>\ “Hey,” she said as she began to recount to you a fight between two old cats at the mall. Number Four came out of the room and you pressed your finger to your lips. Number Four raised his hands and walked naked to the kitchen. You felt your cock twitch as you watched his ass sway in the daylight. <<elseif $n4 is 'her'>>\ “Hey,” she said as she began to recount to you a fight between two old cats at the mall. Number Four came out of the room and you pressed your finger to your lips. Number Four raised her hands and walked naked to the kitchen. You felt your cock twitch as you watched her ass sway in the daylight. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ Sam laughed at the other end of the line and you pretended to laugh too at whatever you had missed. Sam wasn’t stupid, though. You had been caught before—an oversight like someone’s underwear underneath the bed. “I don’t get why you have to make such a big deal out of it,” you said, a drink in your hand, an unlit cigarette in the other. Sam stood there with $samP.possAdj hands on $samP.possAdj hips. “What is wrong with?! You don’t cheat on someone you’re going to marry, and then act like you had tripped and landed on someone’s junk!” You rolled your eyes and finished your drink. Turning away, you filled your cup once more. “I really don’t understand what the big deal is. It was a one time thing and I don’t give a shit about that person anyway. Just a number.” <<if $sam is "masc">>\ “Just like you don’t give a shit about me, right? I’m also just a number to you, right?” he asked, anger and inertia dripping from his words. You turned back around and tucked the cigarette behind your ear. “Now you’re just being dramatic.” Sam sighed, closing his eyes—what he did when he didn’t want to cry. He knew he couldn’t change you. He either accepted it or he didn’t. <<if $lovesam>>\ You walked over to him and cupped his face. You gently kissed him and said, “I love you. That’s all that matters. The rest is just noise.” He allowed you to kiss him again, longer and harder. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You sat down on the couch and patted the spot next to you. Reluctantly, Sam walked over, giving up to defeat, as you knew he would. At least until the next time. <</if>>\ <<elseif $sam is "fem">>\ “Just like you don’t give a shit about me, right? I’m also just a number to you, right?” she asked, anger and inertia dripping from her words. You turned back around and tucked the cigarette behind your ear. “Now you’re just being dramatic.” Sam sighed, closing her eyes —something she did when she didn’t want to cry. She knew she couldn’t change you. She either accepted it or she didn’t. She opened her eyes and a few tears escaped, which she wiped away quickly. <<if $lovesam>>\ You walked over to her and cupped her face. You gently kissed her and said, “I love you. That’s all that matters. The rest is just noise.” She allowed you to kiss her again, longer and harder. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You sat down on the couch and patted the spot next to you. Reluctantly, Sam walked over, giving up to defeat, as you knew she would. At least until the next time. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ You lived your life as if it were a non-stop party, and up until this point in your life, it had been. You had the life people envied, craved, and admired. You were content living in blissful ignorance. After all, why wouldn’t you be? [[◎ Page 61]]

<h2>__//''Present''//__</h2><<audio "cheating" stop>><<audio "disco" loop play>>\ <<if $cisf>>\ The bathroom stall closes behind you. You wedge yourself in between two girls, who each give you a withering look. You pump soap onto your hands and wash them vigorously. You want to get back to the party. Your mind is crowded with melancholy thoughts you really aren’t in the mood for. //“Because I’m the older brother.”// “Goddamn it,” you curse and squeeze your eyes shut as painfully as you can. The cats crowding around the counter give you strange looks. You clear your throat and toss your hair over your shoulder haughtily. You see a bit of blow in a nice, thick line on the counter. <<elseif $cism>>\ The bathroom stall closes behind you. You wedge yourself in between two guys, who each throw you a withering look. You pump soap onto your hands and wash them vigorously. You want to get back to the party. Your mind is crowded with melancholy thoughts you really aren’t in the mood for. //“Because I’m the older brother.”// “Goddamn it,” you curse and squeeze your eyes shut as painfully as you can. The cats crowding around the counter give you strange looks. You growl and stand up straight, twisting your rings. You see a bit of blow in a nice, thick line on the counter. <<elseif $transf>>\ The bathroom stall closes behind you. You wedge yourself in between two guys, who each throw you a withering look. They eye you suspiciously as you apply eyeliner, you forget how much you look like a woman. You pump soap onto your hands and wash them vigorously. You want to get back to the party. Your mind is crowded with melancholy thoughts you really aren’t in the mood for. //“Because I’m the older brother.”// “Goddamn it,” you curse and squeeze your eyes shut as painfully as you can. The cats crowding around the counter give you strange looks. You clear your throat and toss your hair over your shoulder haughtily. You see a bit of blow in a nice, thick line on the counter. <<elseif $transm>>\ The bathroom stall closes behind you. You wedge yourself in between two girls, who each give you a withering look. They eye you suspiciously as you fix your hair. You forget how much you look like a man. You pump soap onto your hands and wash them vigorously. You want to get back to the party. Your mind is crowded with melancholy thoughts you really aren’t in the mood for. //“Because I’m the older brother.”// “Goddamn it,” you curse and squeeze your eyes shut as painfully as you can. The cats crowding around the counter give you strange looks. You growl and stand up straight, twisting your rings. You see a bit of blow in a nice, thick line on the counter. <<elseif $nbf>>\ The bathroom stall closes behind you. You wedge yourself in between two girls, who each give you a withering look. You pump soap onto your hands and wash them vigorously. You want to get back to the party. Your mind is crowded with melancholy thoughts you really aren’t in the mood for. //“Because I’m the older brother.”// “Goddamn it,” you curse and squeeze your eyes shut as painfully as you can. The cats crowding around the counter give you strange looks. You sigh and stand up straight, shaking the wet from your hands. You see a bit of blow in a nice, thick line on the counter. <<elseif $nbm>>\ The bathroom stall closes behind you. You wedge yourself in between two guys, who each throw you a withering look. You pump soap onto your hands and wash them vigorously. You want to get back to the party. Your mind is crowded with melancholic thoughts you really aren’t in the mood for. //“Because I’m the older brother.”// “Goddamn it,” you curse and squeeze your eyes shut as painfully as you can. The cats crowding around the counter give you strange looks. You sigh and stand up straight, shaking the wet from your hands. You see a bit of blow in a nice, thick line on the counter. <</if>>\ <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Ask to snort some|◎ Page 62][$coke to true]] [[Go take shot|◎ Page 62][$drink to true]] [[Dance|◎ Page 62][$dance to true]]

<<if $coke>>\ The <span class="tooltip">cat<span class="tooltiptext"> <span class="tooltip-title">CAT</span> Referring to a person; can be used as a compliment, neutrally; tone and context dependant. </span></span> shrugs and offers you a rolled-up bill. You plug one of your nostrils and bend down. Your nose starts burning as you inhale the entire line. “Hey, don’t be a bogart! Leave some for me!" the cat who offered you a snort protests. You shoot up and wipe your nose. "Shit," you groan as it clears your running nostrils. You throw the used bill back on the counter and open the bathroom door. The strength of the music slams back into you. Your eyes squint at the darkness of the club; the only lights are those of the dance floor. You stumble toward it, shovelling people aside without listening to their complaints, and in your stupor, you run into Sam, whom you had left to wait for you. “Hey,” you drawl. <<elseif $drink>>\ You throw open the bathroom door. The strength of the music slams back into you. Your eyes squint at the darkness of the club; the only lights are those of the dance floor. You stumble toward the bar and hit your palm against it to get the bartender’s attention. His lip curls, and you glare back at him. “I want a shot of your hardest liquor,” you order. The man doesn’t reply to you but grabs a shot glass. He slams it against the counter and pours it stiffly. He slides it to you and then turns his back. You don’t hesitate to gulp it in one go. You wince as the taste hits your taste buds and burns your throat. "Ugh," you groan and throw the shot glass on the counter; it slides off and shatters on the floor. “Snaps,” you say without much care and shove people aside to get back to the dance floor. You run into Sam, whom you left to wait for you. “Hey,” you drawl. <<elseif $dance>>\ You throw open the bathroom door. The strength of the music slams back into you. Your eyes squint at the darkness of the club; the only lights are those of the dance floor. You stumble toward the dance floor, shoving people aside without care for their complaints. You lift your hands and start twirling around, bumping into people. “Asshole,” a few people say. You hardly care; it’s your party, after all.You can do whatever the fuck you want. You twist, stomp your feet, slide, jump up and down. You slip and fall against someone whose scent you know very well. “Sam,” you say, looking over your shoulder. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 63]]

<<if $coke>>\ Sam looks at your face and tries to touch your nose; you move back. “Luce, are you high?” “High on life,” you say sarcastically. “Luce—” <<elseif $drink>>\ Sam looks at your face and leans in to smell your mouth; you move back. “Luce, are you drinking?” “Drinking water,” you say sarcastically. “Luce—” <<elseif $dance>>\ Sam studies your face and sees something in your eyes that makes you step away from $samP.possAdj attempt to hug you. “Luce, did something happen?” “Yeah, the bartender who works here is a square,” you say lightheartedly. “Luce—” <</if>>\ “Don’t start, Sam,” you state. Sam looks like $samP.subj wants to drag you into one of $samP.possAdj heart-to-heart confabs. “I know this time of year is hard—” “I said stop it, for fuck’s sake,” you interject, irritation clear in your voice. Sam gives you a look of dismay that you ignore. “Ok,” $samP.subj surrenders. “Can we talk?” Sam asks. “Not about that, something else,” $samP.subj clarifies. <<if $cheatluce>>\ You cross your arms guardedly. “Can you make this quick? I have a ball drop to host.” Sam stares at you in disbelief. You raise an eyebrow. $samP.subjCap points to someone behind you. You look over to see Number Two, mingling with a random redhead. You wince. Looking back at Sam, you ask, “Who’s that?” Sam shakes $samP.possAdj head. “I know who that person is. You also know who that person is, so cut the shit.” Your face barely moves as you spit, “You’re going to have to explain this to me, Sam, because I’m really lost.” “I know you’ve been fucking that person in your apartment,” $samP.subj claims. “And I know it isn’t a recent thing.” Your eyebrows shoot up and you lay a hand on your chest. “Sam, I don’t know where you’re getting these crazy ideas from, but I would never. How can you say that?” You push the tears into your eyes. Sam searches your face. “Are you really going to look me in the eye and tell me that you haven’t been cheating on me this whole time?” You sniffle and look down, shaking your head in disappointment. “How can you not trust me? We’re going to get married. Have I ever given you reasons not to believe my word? What’s wrong with you? Why are you trying to hurt me?” Sam looks at you with incredulity as you dab at your running eyes. $samP.subjCap looks like $samP.subj wants to say more, but then— <<else>>\ You cross your arms guardedly. “Can you make this quick? I have a ball drop to host.” Sam stares at you in disbelief. You raise an eyebrow. $samP.subjCap points to someone behind you. You look over to see a blond man, mingling with a random redhead. You look back at Sam and ask, “Who’s that?” Sam shakes $samP.possAdj head. “I know who that person is. You do too, so cut the shit.” Your face tilts in genuine confusion. “You’re going to have to explain this to me, Sam, because I’m really lost.” “That guy rear-ended me last week and tried to blame it on me,” $samP.possAdj claims. “You know this.” You look over at the guy again and squint, trying to recall if you’ve seen him before. When you turn back to Sam’s insulted face, you shrug. “So? I’m not going to stop being friends with someone just because you hate them. Honestly, you’re ruining the jive by being so sensitive.” Sam’s face reddens considerably. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 64]]

<<if $sam is "masc">>\ “A MINUTE LEFT!” someone announces. Sam looks at his watch. “Can we talk somewhere privately?” “Now?” Sam looks at the clock again, “Yes, now.” “The countdown’s about to begin, I don’t wanna be a lame-o and miss it,” you say. “Luce,” he says in an urgent voice, “It’s really important. It’s about our wedding.” You quirk an eyebrow, “What about it?” “Can we go somewhere private please?” he asks. “And it really can’t wait?” you ask, turning to look over when someone calls your name. “No, it can’t,” he insists. <<elseif $sam is "fem">>\ “A MINUTE LEFT!” someone announces. Sam looks at her watch. “Can we talk somewhere privately?” “Now?” Sam looks at the clock again, “Yes, now.” “The countdown’s about to begin, I don’t wanna be a lame-o and miss it,” you say. “Luce,” she says in an urgent voice, “It’s really important. It’s about our wedding.” You quirk an eyebrow, “What about it?” “Can we go somewhere private, please?” she asks. “And it really can’t wait?” you ask, turning to look over when someone calls your name. “No, it can’t,” she insists. <</if>>\ <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Go with Sam|◎ Page 65]] [[Celebrate New Year’s|◎ Page 65*]]

You sigh and gesture to the balcony, where the party-goers are filtering out. Charley starts moving but you shake your head. “We want to be alone.” She looks at Sam and then at you. “I would advise you to talk somewhere inside <<cycle '$honorific' autoselect>><<option 'Sir'>><<option 'Ma’am'>><<option 'Boss'>><</cycle>>, you’ll be exposed to any potential threats,” she says primly. You smirk at her stiff manner. “Take a drink, comrade. It’ll just be a minute or so, Charley, you can still see me if you stay here.” She looks like she wants to protest but instead inclines her head and goes back to lean against the wall, hands by her side and unwaveringly surveying your immediate surroundings. <<set $path to 'torture'>> <<if $sam is "masc">>\ Sam leans on the railing, you move to stand next to him. You look over the railing, the ground is very far away. The wind picks up and moves your hair around. You shiver. Sam looks at his watch and then inside the club. “Ok, what is it?” you ask. Sam looks back at you with an unreadable expression. “I don’t think there’ll be a wedding.” <<elseif $sam is "fem">>\ Sam leans on the railing, you move to stand next to her. You look over the railing, the ground is very far away. The wind picks up and ruffles your hair around. You shiver. Sam looks at her watch and then inside the club. “Ok, what is it?” you ask. Sam looks back at you with an unreadable expression. “I don’t think there’ll be a wedding.” <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 66]]

<<if $lovesam>>\ <<if $sam is "masc">>\ You lay your hands on his chest. “Sam, I’ll be there as soon as it hits 12. I swear.” Sam opens his mouth to protest, but you just give him a quick kiss and gesture to the balcony. “Wait for me there,” you instruct softly. Sam looks reluctant to go; he must miss you too much. It warms your heart. You watch his retreating back and then turn around to look for Marcela. <<elseif $sam is "fem">>\ You lay your hands on her arms. “Sam, I’ll be there as soon as it hits 12. I swear.” Sam opens her mouth to protest, but you just give her a quick kiss and gesture to the balcony. “Wait for me there,” you instruct softly. Sam looks reluctant to go; she must miss you too much. It warms your heart. You watch her retreating back and then turn around to look for Marcela. <</if>>\ <<elseif $nolove>>\ You let out a tired sigh. “Sam, can you just let me enjoy my night for a fucking minute?” you ask, your voice low with annoyance. <<if $sam is "masc">>\ Sam opens his mouth and then closes it. “Fine,” he practically spits, and swiftly turns on his heel. You grind your teeth and then look for Marcela. <<elseif $sam is "fem">>\ Sam presses her lips together. “Fine,” she practically spits, and swiftly turns on her heel. You grind your teeth and then look for Marcela. <</if>>\ You spot her at the same time she spots you. She smiles and rapidly plows through the guests. You laugh at the spectacle. She puts a party hat on your head and kisses both of your cheeks. “Where’s the old ball and chain?” she asks teasingly. You wave vaguely toward the balcony. “Waiting for me after the countdown.” “Ohhhh, trouble in paradise?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows. You shake your head. “Sound as a pound.” Marcela looks at you curiously, as if she doesn’t quite believe it, but she just shrugs and grabs you both flutes of champagne. You clink glasses and start counting down with the group. ''“15!”'' You see Charley looking at Sam. Your eyebrows knit together. ''“10!”'' you scream out with the others.<<set $path to 'hotel'>> <<if $sam is "masc">>\ Sam looks at you and you’re about to mouth something in response, but you realize he’s not looking at you at all. He looks behind you, at the double doors. You look back at Sam and then at Charley, who’s also following his gaze. Charley starts walking toward him. ''“5!”'' <<elseif $sam is "fem">>\ Sam looks at you and you’re about to mouth something in response, but you realize she’s not looking at you at all. She looks behind you, at the double doors. You look back at Sam and then at Charley, who’s also following her gaze. Charley starts walking toward her. ''“5!”'' <</if>> You feel bodies push against you, blocking you in. Marcela spills her champagne, and as you reach over to her, the year changes. “HAPPY NEW YEAR’S!” <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 66|◎ Page 66*]]

<<if $cisf>>\ You pause, your eyes widen, and you search his face for signs of sarcasm. But he looks... serene? “What do you mean by that?” you ask. A small smile starts creeping onto his lips. “God, you’re really stupid, aren’t you, Luce?” ''“30!”'' they yell inside. His voice has a tone you’ve never heard before. Sam was always so calm; he never once raised his voice or had a mean streak. <<if $lovesam>>He spoke to you with love.<<elseif $nolove>>Even if you treated him badly, he shouldn’t dare reciprocate.<</if>> It feels like you’ve been struck. ''“20!”'' “Sam, I don’t—” “You think you’re such hot shit, don’t you?” he interrupts. “That everyone kisses the ground you walk on, that you could never imagine how much I’ve always hated you, my love.” [[◎ Page 67]] <<elseif $cism>>\ You pause, your eyes widen, and you search her face for signs of sarcasm. But she looks... happy? “What do you mean by that?” you ask. A charismatic smile creeps onto her face. “Oh dear, you’re not the brightest, are you, Luce?” ''“30!”'' they yell inside. Her voice has a tone you’ve never heard before. Sam was always so friendly; she never once raised her voice or had a mean streak. <<if $lovesam>>She spoke to you with love.<<elseif $nolove>>Even if you treated her badly, she shouldn’t dare reciprocate.<</if>> It feels like you’ve been struck. ''“20!”'' “Sam, I don’t—” “You think you're the greatest thing in the world, don’t you? Like all men,” she interrupts. “And the world opens up to you because you have a dick. But not me. I’ve always hated you.” [[◎ Page 67|◎ Page 67-F]] <<elseif $transm>>\ You pause, your eyes widen, and you search her face for signs of sarcasm. But she looks... happy? “What do you mean by that?” you ask. A charismatic smile creeps onto her face. “Oh dear, you're not the brightest, are you, Luce?” ''“30!”'' they yell inside. Her voice has a tone you’ve never heard before. Sam was always so friendly; she never once raised her voice or had a mean streak. <<if $lovesam>>She spoke to you with love.<<elseif $nolove>>Even if you treated her badly, she shouldn’t dare reciprocate.<</if>> It feels like you’ve been struck. ''“20!”'' “Sam, I don’t—” “You think you’re the greatest thing in the world, don’t you? Like all men,” she interrupts. “And the world opens up to you because you have a plastic dick. But not me. I’ve always hated you.” [[◎ Page 67|◎ Page 67-F]] <<elseif $transf>>\ You pause, your eyes widen, and you search his face for signs of sarcasm. But he looks... serene? “What do you mean by that?” you ask. A small smile starts creeping onto his lips. “God, you’re really stupid, aren’t you, Luce?” ''“30!”'' they yell inside. His voice has a tone you’ve never heard before. Sam was always so calm; he never once raised his voice or had a mean streak. <<if $lovesam>>He spoke to you with love.<<elseif $nolove>>Even if you treated him badly, he shouldn’t dare reciprocate.<</if>> It feels like you’ve been struck. ''“20!”'' “Sam, I don’t—” “You think you’re such hot shit, don’t you?” he interrupts. “That everyone kisses the ground you walk on, that you could never imagine how much I’ve always hated you, my love.” [[◎ Page 67]] <<elseif $nbf>>\ You pause, your eyes widen, and you search his face for signs of sarcasm. But he looks... serene? “What do you mean by that?” you ask. A small smile starts creeping onto his lips. “God, you’re really stupid, aren’t you, Luce?” ''“30!”'' they yell inside. His voice has a tone you’ve never heard before. Sam was always so calm; he never once raised his voice or had a mean streak. <<if $lovesam>>He spoke to you with love.<<elseif $nolove>>Even if you treated him badly, he shouldn’t dare reciprocate.<</if>> It feels like you’ve been struck. ''“20!”'' “Sam, I don’t—” “You think you’re such hot shit, don’t you?” he interrupts. “That everyone kisses the ground you walk on, that you could never imagine how much I’ve always hated you, my love.” [[◎ Page 67]] <<elseif $nbm>>\ You pause, your eyes widen, and you search her face for signs of sarcasm. But she looks... happy? “What do you mean by that?” you ask. A charismatic smile creeps onto her face. “Oh dear, you're not the brightest, are you, Luce?” ''“30!”'' they yell inside. Her voice has a tone you’ve never heard before. Sam was always so friendly; she never once raised her voice or had a mean streak. <<if $lovesam>>She spoke to you with love.<<elseif $nolove>>Even if you treated her badly, she shouldn’t dare reciprocate.<</if>> It feels like you’ve been struck. ''“20!”'' “Sam, I don’t—” “You think you're the greatest thing in the world, don’t you? Like all men,” she interrupts. “And the world opens up to you because you have a dick. But not me. I’ve always hated you.” [[◎ Page 67|◎ Page 67-F]] <</if>>\

<<audio "scratch" loop play>>\ Everyone but you screams. The scream is ear-piercing; you have to drop your flute to cover your ears, and then you feel a great weight fall on you, throwing you to the floor. “UF!” you grunt. <<audio "disco" stop>> The screams ring inside your head like a gong, and more weight falls on top of you. Your eyes start burning, and you realize you can’t see anything. The space in front of you is thick with smoke. You start coughing, your eyes bugging out of their sockets as your lungs can’t get enough air due to the weight on your back. “Marcey...” you croak out. There are feet, arms, and legs surrounding you. Pops go off throughout the room, and the screams continue. You groan as you try to get out from under whoever is on top of you. <<if $cisf>>\ “NOW WHERE IS OUR HOSTESS?” a booming voice asks from somewhere in the smoke. <<elseif $cism>>\ “NOW WHERE IS OUR HOST?” a booming voice asks from somewhere in the smoke. <<elseif $transm>>\ “NOW WHERE IS OUR HOST?” a booming voice asks from somewhere in the smoke. <<elseif $transf>>\ “NOW WHERE IS OUR HOSTESS?” a booming voice asks from somewhere in the smoke. <<elseif $nbf>>\ “NOW WHERE IS OUR HOST?” a booming voice asks from somewhere in the smoke. <<elseif $nbm>>\ “NOW WHERE IS OUR HOST?” a booming voice asks from somewhere in the smoke. <</if>> You freeze. That voice is close enough for you to recognize it. What the fuck is he doing here? You slide out from under the body and look around. “Fuck,” you hiss as the smoke touches your eyes. You wipe them, and tears stream down your cheeks. You look around confusedly. “Charley?” you ask, a bit too loud. “LUCE? COME OUT, COME OUT, WHEREVER YOU ARE!” Dante yells cheerfully. You look around; there are bodies all over the floor. You’re lying on them. You squint and try to see if you can spot Marcela, but the smoke is too thick to make anyone out. You have to find Charley, and then she’ll help you find Sam and Marcela. You begin crawling, your throat constricting as you feel blood on your hands. A shadowy figure passes in front of you, and you pause. They stop, and their feet move to face you. You hold your breath. A pop rings out, and you and the person flinch. [[◎ Page 67|◎ Page 67*]]

<<if $lovesam>>\ You start to feel tears well in your eyes. Sam brings a finger to your cheek. “Aw, poor baby. You truly didn’t see this coming.” ''“10!”'' “Sam, why are you saying all of this?” you ask, sniffing. “Did I do something wrong?” His hand caresses your cheek. “Where do I start? I know this must be hard for you to imagine, but this isn’t about you. It’s just business.” ''“5!”'' “Business,” you say, your voice breaking. “I don’t understand.” He leans in to give you a quick kiss you can’t even react to. He moves back an inch and, with a condescending tone, asks, “Isn’t that just the story of your life?” “HAPPY NEW YEAR’S!” a cacophony of voices screams in celebration. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You raise your hand and slap him. His head jerks to the side; your palm burns, but it fuels the anger building inside of you. Sam rubs his cheek and then returns the slap just as hard. Your head snaps to the side, and you feel your eyes burn from the sting. “10!” “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he admits. “Especially when you wouldn’t stop fucking talking.” You furiously rub your cheek. “Go fuck yourself, you small-dick rat.” “5!” Sam throws his head back and laughs. “Always the lack of manners. Goes to show money doesn’t buy pedigree.” He roughly grabs your face. You try to pry his hands off, but he gives you a painful kiss. You bite his lip, and he shoves you away. “Italian trash.” “HAPPY NEW YEAR’S!” a cacophony of voices scream in celebration. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 68]]

<<if $lovesam>>\ You start to feel tears well in your eyes. Her hand caresses your jaw. “You really have no self-awareness, do you? This isn’t all about you; it’s business.” ''“10!”'' “Sam, why are you saying all of this?” you ask, sniffing. “Did I do something wrong?” ''“5!”'' “Business,” you say, your voice breaking. “I don’t understand.” She gives you a gentle kiss that you barely feel. When she moves back, she replies, “And that’s the story of your life.” “HAPPY NEW YEAR’S!” a cacophony of voices screams in celebration. <<elseif $nolove>>\ You think of slapping her. But that wouldn’t fix anything, and you don’t want to be the type of person who hits women in public. “You really wish you could hit, don’t you?” she taunts. “You can’t, but I can.” She slaps you across the face. Her nails rake across your cheek. Your head snaps to the side, and you feel your eyes burn from the sting. “10!” “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” she admits. “Especially when you talked on and on as if whatever you were saying was the most important thing on earth.” You furiously rub your cheek. “Go fuck yourself, you stone-cold bitch.” “5!” Sam puts her hand to her mouth and laughs. “Always the lack of decorum. Money obviously doesn’t buy class. You really think I was ever going to marry a pathetic, self-obsessed man like you.” She surprises you with a painful kiss. You bite her lip, and she shoves you away. “Greasy swarthy trash.” “HAPPY NEW YEAR’S!” a cacophony of voices scream in celebration. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 68|◎ Page 68-F]]

“BUMMER! I GUESS I’LL HAVE TO DO THIS THE HARD WAY!” Dante threatens. The shadowy figure moves on. You start crawling again, it’s a slow process because the surface is so uneven. You want to vomit when you feel someone’s squishy eyes. <<if $sam is "masc">>“IF YOU DON’T COME OUT TO SAY HI, I’LL KILL YOUR HUBBY AND YOUR BEST FRIEND!” he threatens.<<elseif $sam is "fem">>“IF YOU DON’T COME OUT TO SAY HI, I’LL KILL YOUR WIFEY AND YOUR BEST FRIEND!” he threatens.<</if>> “LUCE!” Marcela screams. “LUCE DON’T COME!” Sam warns. That makes you pause. You think about what Dante would do to you if you went to him. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Go to him|◎ Page 68*][$goD to true]] [[Keep crawling|◎ Page 68*]]

<<audio "disco" stop>><<audio "scratch" loop play>>\ <<if $lovesam>>\ You look in, tears running down your face, and you don’t have time to see the happiness on your friends’ faces when the double doors of the club burst open and a series of things—things you can only see in flashes—are thrown in. You think it’s smoke from the sparklers or the cigarettes people have lit, but it rises from the ground in a thick cloud. You can only look at Sam once before the wall of smoke comes toward you with unmitigated force. She’s smiling. You start choking and fall to the floor, your eyes burning with tears from heartbreak and chemicals. You hold your stomach as your coughing fit begins an assault on your throat. You hardly notice the screams of fear from the others inside due to the series of rapid pops going off in all directions. “Charley,” you squeak out weakly. “NOW WHERE IS OUR HOST?” a booming voice asks from somewhere in the smoke. Sam grabs your arm and tries to pull you up. “Right here!” It’s an effort, as she’s weak. A figure comes out from the smoke, and you start backing away, but Sam pushes you forward. You stumble and fall into the arms of someone. They smell of clean sheets, and you let out a sigh of relief. Charley throws an arm around your shoulder and lifts the gun she has in her hand. Pointing it at Sam, she starts backing away into the smoke, which makes you cough even worse. Sam has an irritated look on her face. “Charley to the rescue, as always.” Charley has her hand on the trigger. “I never really liked you,” she says and shoots. Sam lets out a cry and falls to the floor, clutching her shoulder. Charley aims again, and you desperately grab her gun. “NO!” you protest. Charley looks at you disapprovingly. “She betrayed you.” “I love her,” you say, shame on your face. Charley gives you a hard look. She looks back at Sam, who’s crying on the floor. Taking a breath, she simply says, “Ok.” She pulls you tight against her and explains, “It’s going to hurt. I want you to squint your eyes as much as you can, and no matter what you see, I need you to keep going. We have the advantage of the smoke; Dante didn’t think that through.” “Dante?” <<elseif $nolove>>\ You look inside, but don’t have time to see the happiness on your friends’ faces when the double doors of the club burst open and a series of things—things you can only see in flashes—are thrown in. You think it’s smoke from the sparklers or the cigarettes people have lit, but it rises from the ground in a thick cloud. You can only look at Sam once before the wall of smoke comes toward you with unmitigated force. She’s smiling. You start choking and fall to the floor, your eyes burning with tears from heartbreak and chemicals. You hold your stomach as your coughing fit begins an assault on your throat. You hardly notice the screams of fear from the others inside due to the series of rapid pops going off in all directions. “Charley,” you squeak out weakly. “NOW WHERE IS OUR HOST?” a booming voice asks from somewhere in the smoke. Sam grabs your arm and tries to pull you up. Sam grabs your arm and tries to pull you up. A hard task since she’s so fucking weak. “Right here!” A figure comes out from the smoke, and you start backing away, but Sam pushes you forward. You stumble and fall into the arms of someone. They smell of clean sheets, and you let out a sigh. Charley throws an arm around your shoulder and lifts the gun she has in her hand. Pointing it at Sam, she starts backing away into the smoke, which makes you cough even worse. Sam has a irritated look on her face. “Charley to the rescue then.” Charley has her hand on the trigger. “I never really liked you,” she says and shoots. Sam lets out a cry and falls to the floor, clutching her shoulder. Charley aims again, and you watch as the bullet misses her by inches, shattering the glass of the balcony. Charley rolls her lips in frustration. “I can’t waste more bullets.” “Not worth it,” you state, your words coloured with disgust. Charley gives you a hard look. She looks back at Sam, who’s crying on the floor. Taking a breath, she simply says, “You’re right.” She pulls you tight against her and explains, “It’s going to hurt. I want you to squint your eyes as much as you can, and no matter what you see, I need you to keep going. We have the advantage of the smoke; Dante didn’t think that through.” “Dante?” <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 69]]

<<audio "disco" stop>><<audio "scratch" loop play>>\ <<if $lovesam>>\ You look in, tears running down your face, and you don’t have time to see the happiness on your friends’ faces when the double doors of the club burst open and a series of things—things you can only see in flashes—are thrown in. You think it’s smoke from the sparklers or the cigarettes people have lit, but it rises from the ground in a thick cloud. You can only look at Sam once before the wall of smoke comes toward you with unmitigated force. He’s smiling. You start choking and fall to the floor, your eyes burning with tears from heartbreak and chemicals. You hold your stomach as your coughing fit begins an assault on your throat. You hardly notice the screams of fear from the others inside due to the series of rapid pops going off in all directions. “Charley,” you squeak out weakly. “NOW WHERE IS OUR HOST?” a booming voice asks from somewhere in the smoke. Sam grabs your arm and tries to pull you up. “Right here!” A figure comes out from the smoke, and you start backing away, but Sam pushes you forward. You stumble and fall into the arms of someone. They smell of clean sheets, and you let out a cry. Charley throws an arm around your shoulder and lifts the gun she has in her hand. Pointing it at Sam, she starts backing away into the smoke, which makes you cough even worse. Sam has a frustrated look on his face. “Charley to the rescue then.” Charley has her hand on the trigger. “I never really liked you,” she says and shoots. Sam lets out a cry and falls to the floor, clutching his stomach. Charley aims again, and you desperately grab her gun. “NO!” you protest. Charley looks at you disapprovingly. “He betrayed you.” “I love him,” you say, shame on your face. Charley gives you a hard look. She looks back at Sam, who’s groaning on the floor. Taking a breath, she simply says, “Ok.” She pulls you tight against her and explains, “It’s going to hurt. I want you to squint your eyes as much as you can, and no matter what you see, I need you to keep going. We have the advantage of the smoke; Dante didn’t think that through.” “Dante?” <<elseif $nolove>>\ You look in, tears running down your face, and you don’t have time to see the happiness on your friends’ faces when the double doors of the club burst open and a series of things—things you can only see in flashes—are thrown in. You think it’s smoke from the sparklers or the cigarettes people have lit, but it rises from the ground in a thick cloud. You can only look at Sam once before the wall of smoke comes toward you with unmitigated force. He’s smiling. You start choking and fall to the floor, your eyes burning with tears from heartbreak and chemicals. You hold your stomach as your coughing fit begins an assault on your throat. You hardly notice the screams of fear from the others inside due to the series of rapid pops going off in all directions. “Charley,” you squeak out weakly. “NOW WHERE IS OUR HOST?” a booming voice asks from somewhere in the smoke. Sam grabs your arm and tries to pull you up. “Right here!” A figure comes out from the smoke, and you start backing away, but Sam pushes you forward. You stumble and fall into the arms of someone. They smell of clean sheets, and you let out a sigh. Charley throws an arm around your shoulder and lifts the gun she has in her hand. Pointing it at Sam, she starts backing away into the smoke, which makes you cough even worse. Sam has a frustrated look on his face. “Charley to the rescue then.” Charley has her hand on the trigger. “I never really liked you,” she says and shoots. Sam lets out a cry and falls to the floor, clutching his stomach. Charley aims again, and you watch as the bullet misses him by inches, shattering the glass of the balcony. Charley rolls her lips in frustration. “I can’t waste more bullets.” “Not worth it,” you state, your words coloured with disgust. Charley gives you a hard look. She looks back at Sam, who’s groaning on the floor. Taking a breath, she simply says, “You’re right.” She pulls you tight against her and explains, “It’s going to hurt. I want you to squint your eyes as much as you can, and no matter what you see, I need you to keep going. We have the advantage of the smoke; Dante didn’t think that through.” “Dante?” <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 69]]

Charley starts guiding you along. Tables become your enemy. When you feel something soft under your shoe, you jerk back. Charley holds onto you tight. “Don’t look down, $honorific.” You take a big step and mercifully land on solid ground. You do as she says, but you know what you felt. Those pops you heard—just like the ones on that day your brother died. Charley reaches out with her hand. “We’re at the bar now. We’ll go on our knees behind it and go through the kitchen to the employee exit.” “How do you know there’s a way out there?” you ask. Charley forces you to the ground. “The benefits of having the floor plan, $honorific.” “WHERE IS MY CHILDHOOD BESTIE? I WANNA SAY HI!” Dante yells from the shadows. You start crawling along the floor, having to push aside bodies thrown there. You try not to let out a scream of sorts when their blood touches your fingers. “OLLIE OLLIE OXENFREE! OR DO YOU WANNA DO MARCO POLO?” he continues. Charley pushes the bridge of the bar, and you two slip inside. The floor is wet and hazardously covered with broken glass. Charley winces and lifts her palm; blood trails down her wrist. “Be careful, $honorific,” she warns. “ACTUALLY, I HAVE A BETTER IDEA!” <<if $cism>>You hear a shrill scream and freeze. “MARCELA, TELL LUCE HOW YOU’D LOVE FOR HIM TO SAY HI!”<<elseif $transm>>You hear a shrill scream and freeze. “MARCELA, TELL LUCE HOW YOU’D LOVE FOR HIM TO SAY HI!”<<elseif $nbf>>You hear a shrill scream and freeze. “MARCELA, TELL LUCE HOW YOU’D LOVE FOR THEM TO SAY HI!”<<elseif $cisf>>You hear a shrill scream and freeze. “MARCELA, TELL LUCE HOW YOU’D LOVE FOR HER TO SAY HI!”<<elseif $transf>>You hear a shrill scream and freeze. “MARCELA, TELL LUCE HOW YOU’D LOVE FOR HER TO SAY HI!”<<elseif $nbm>>You hear a shrill scream and freeze. “MARCELA, TELL LUCE HOW YOU’D LOVE FOR THEM TO SAY HI!”<</if>> “Luce! What the fuck is going on!?” Marcey cries. “This one has a filthy mouth on her. If I wasn’t so busy, I would be pissed you didn’t hook us up earlier, Luce,” Dante teases. Charley gives you a warning look. “He’s trying to get you to reveal yourself. We can’t do anything for Marcela now.” Your face is steeped in worry. Marcela—Marcey—your first friend here. She has nothing to do with this. You... <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Respond.|◎ Page 70][$respondd to true]] [[Keep going.|◎ Page 70][$kp to true]]

<<if $respondd>>\ “$honorific!” Charley whispers furiously, but you stand up. “Let her go, Dante. She’s not at fault for anything. She doesn’t even know who my family is,” you plead. Dante cackles, and amidst dying groans, shuffling, and voices, he appears hazily fifteen feet away. Marcela is in front of him with a gun pointed at her temple. He smiles cheekily and waves at you. “Hey, Luce. Fab party, real groovy. Sorry I got here so late,” he drawls. He has a maniac look on his face, like he couldn’t imagine having more fun. “Dante, please,” you beg. Your eyes burn, and you can’t tell if it’s from the smoke or from seeing how petrified Marcela looks. “Just let her leave.” Dante pretends to think about it for a second. “Hmmmmmmmm.” He leans his head next to hers and asks, “What do you think, Marcey? Should I do you a solid?” Marcela sobs and just shakes her head. “Luce, what’s going on?” “Marcey,” you say, your voice barely strong enough to be heard. “You know what?” Dante says. “I’ll do you the solid. I’ll let you leave.” He waves the gun around in the general vicinity of the doors. You’re shocked at his acquiescence, and you’re about to go around the bar to take her. Dante presses the gun to her head and pulls the trigger. She crumbles to the ground like a rag doll. Your blood turns to ice in your veins as her brains leak onto the dance floor. Dante wipes the blood from his cheek and brings a finger to his lips to suck it off. “Slammin’,” he says, almost giddy. Then he turns to you, raises his gun, and shoots. You scream as you’re hit in the arm, and Charley pulls you down. “Wait,” she orders and stands up. She starts shooting at Dante, who shoots back. Glass lands all over you. Blood seeps through your fingers as you try to staunch the bleeding with your hand. Charley grabs your other arm and pulls you up as she continues shooting and pushes you into the door of the kitchen. You stumble inside, the bright lights momentarily blinding you. Charley runs in, slams the door behind her, grabs a chair, and blocks it as bullets start coming through the wood. Charley slings an arm around your waist and, breathing heavily, says, “We’ll go to my place. Then we’ll see about that bullet.” She throws open the exit door, and you’re greeted by a small hallway with an elevator. “Dante really is stu—” her voice fades out as you faint. [[◎ Page 70|◎ Page 70-ESCAPED.1]] <<else>>\ You jerk your head toward the kitchen at Charley, and she nods. Your knees bleed as glass sticks into your skin.<<audio "scratch" stop>>\ “Luce!” Marcela begs. You push the guilt you feel down; you can feel it later. <<if $cism>>“Wow, what a dick. Your bestie is literally about to feed the rats of this city, and you couldn’t give a shit. Cold, Luce. Cold, dude,” Dante laments sarcastically.<<elseif $transm>>“Wow, what a dick. Your bestie is literally about to feed the rats of this city, and you couldn’t give a shit. Cold, Luce. Cold, dude,” Dante laments sarcastically.<<elseif $nbm>>“Wow, what a dick. Your bestie is literally about to feed the rats of this city, and you couldn’t give a shit. Cold, Luce. Cold, dude,” Dante laments sarcastically.<<elseif $nbf>>“Wow, what a dick. Your bestie is literally about to feed the rats of this city, and you couldn’t give a shit. Cold, Luce. Cold, dude,” Dante laments sarcastically.<<elseif $cisf>>“Wow, what a cunt. Your bestie is literally about to feed the rats of this city, and you couldn’t give a shit. Cold, Luce. Cold, dude,” Dante laments sarcastically.<<elseif $transf>>“Wow, what a cunt. Your bestie is literally about to feed the rats of this city, and you couldn’t give a shit. Cold, Luce. Cold, dude,” Dante laments sarcastically.<</if>> Charley opens the door and holds it for you as you slip in first. “Oh well, I’m bored now,” Dante says, and you hear a scream before a pop silences it forever. “Thanks for ruining my fun, Luce!” The bright lights momentarily blind you. Charley slips in, shuts the door gently behind her, grabs a chair, and blocks it. You look at each other, and she says, “We’ll go to my place and figure out what to do next.” She throws open the exit door, and you’re greeted by a small hallway with an elevator. “Dante really is stupid,” she states. You go in first. Charley presses the button for the ground floor, and it feels like the ground falls from under you as the elevator quickly plunges toward the earth. “Do you think there’ll be people waiting for us down there?” you ask, eyeing the levels you’re descending. Charley checks the chamber of her gun and then takes out some rounds from a pouch on her belt. “I wouldn’t count on it. By our escape, I believe Dante and his men don’t have a complete floor plan of this building.” She takes out a smaller gun she had concealed in her jacket. “But just in case.” She hands it to you. It feels cold and heavy in your hand. “I’ve never used this before,” you admit. “You don’t have a choice, $honorific,” she replies. [[◎ Page 71]] <</if>>\

When the elevator door opens, Charley peeks out first, her gun gripped tightly in both hands. She moves out slowly and quickly lifts her gun to point down the hall. “It’s clear, $honorific. Hurry,” she commands. You move behind her and see a door at the other end of the hall, a bright exit sign above it. She slowly starts walking toward it, and you follow her, gun awkwardly in hand.<<audio "scratch" stop>> It feels like it takes forever to get there. Charley twists the door open slowly—so slowly it almost seems comical. It’s open enough to squeeze through. Charley looks out and then waves you to follow her quickly. She steps out into the cool night air. You follow behind her. You’re in a darkened alleyway; the sweet smell of something rotten makes your stomach turn. Charley looks around. “I think the car is near the end of the alley,” she says, pointing to a brightly lit street lined with cars. “What are we waiting for then? Let’s go,” you say and start walking. Charley holds out an arm, stopping you. “Follow closely behind me. It’s still dangerous,” she orders. You sigh but assent and start walking toward the other end. Charley’s steps quicken, and you start speed-walking to catch up to her. A rat startles you as it dashes out from a trash can. You’re lightly jogging when you hear a pop sizzle past your ear. Charley swiftly turns around and shoves you against the wall. She takes one shot and then runs to stand in front of you, hiding behind a dumpster. She reloads her gun and peeks up over the trash; another shot rings out. She ducks and then looks up to shoot back. Flashes of yellow bursts fill the alley as Charley starts a gun battle with who you assume are Dante’s men. You... <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Shoot back|◎ Page 72][$shootc to true]] [[Let Charley handle it|◎ Page 72]]

<<if $shootc>>\ Charley grunts and falls next to you. She clutches her arm. Seeing her wounded fills you with indignation. Marcela is already dead; you’re not going to lose someone else tonight. You click the safety off, raise the gun, and start shooting randomly at where you think the shooters are. The pushback of the gun makes your arm shake so badly that you drop it. “Shit!” you curse. A bullet slices right through the side of your leg and you bite back a scream. Charley picks up your gun and pushes herself up. She nods for you to crouch down. You obey, painfully, and she starts shooting; her gun much more precise and steady. You cover your ears and wait for the sounds to stop. They do fairly quickly. The alley is filled with swirls of smoke. You uncover your ears and slowly rise, holdng onto the wall for support. You look at the other end of the alleyway and see two bodies strewn on the pavement. “Good job,” you say softly. Charley looks at you. “You too, $honorific. Your aim was impressive with the little experience you have.” You let out a noise that’s a cross between a laugh and a cry. “Yeah, I shot the air. Very impressive.” She raises an eyebrow. “You got rid of one of the targets. That’s why I was able to take out the other, injured as I am—and as you are.” She looks at your thigh. Your eyes widen, and you step out from behind the dumpster. Two bodies. “I killed one of them?” you ask. Charley nods stiffly and looks at her wound. Your eyes flit between both bodies. You can’t see their faces. Which one did you kill? You killed. <<set $charlyalive to true>> “We need to leave before the others get here, $honorific,” Charley advises and pushes you ahead of her. In a daze, you stumble to the car, your leg not doing you any favours. Your vision starts blurring as you step onto the street. You see Charley doubled. Her expression looks troubled as you start wobbling and keel over. [[◎ Page 70|◎ Page 70-ESCAPED.1]] <<else>>\ You’re too frightened to shoot the damn thing anyway. “$honorific,” Charley reaches into her pocket and throws you the keys. You catch them, and she says, “Run to the car, and under the front seat there’ll be a card for a hotel. I have a room there—go there and call your family.” “What about you?” you ask. Charley gives you a hard look and says, “I swore to give my life to protect yours.” You give her a sad look. “Charley—” The shooting starts up again, and Charley yells, “GO!” You scurry up and look at Charley, who turns away to shoot back at Dante’s men. You stumble back for a second, fearful that a stray bullet will catch you. But then Charley steps out from the dumpster, and you take that as your cue. You book it down the alley, thinking about a bullet hitting your back each step of the way. You step out under the streetlight and frantically look around for the car. When you see it a few cars down, you look over to where Charley is, to tell her to run to you—that both of you can make it. But when you look back into the alley, you see a crumpled body near where you last saw her standing. Two bodies lie further away; one of them is groaning, trying to sit up. You look at Charley once more. “Thank you,” you say meaningfully. Then you start running. [[◎ Page 70|◎ Page 70-SOLOE.1]] <</if>>\

<<if $goD>>\ You raise your hands in a sign of defeat and stand up. The air is still thick with chemicals that make you teary, but you can make out the aftermath of the countdown. Dante stands at the foot of the stairs; the double doors behind him are thrown open. Marcela stands to his left and Sam to his right. Two guns in each of his hands point at their temples. When he sees you, he smiles widely. “Ah, there you are! Long time, ain’t it? Looking very groovy!” The strangest thing is that he sounds genuine. “What do you want, Dante?” you ask, your voice wobbly. He thinks about it for a moment. “Money, power, some good scotch, and big-breasted blondes sucking my dick,” he replies. “But it isn’t about what I want; it’s about what you want.” He nods to Marcela and then to Sam. “Who do you want to live?” he asks, in a light tone. “What?” you ask breathlessly. Dante nods rapidly. “You can eeny-meany-miny-mo if you want.” You shake your head. “Dante, let both of them go. They don’t have anything to do with this.” Dante smirks. “You have no clue, do you?” Dante tsks. You don’t understand what he’s saying, and you don’t care to. You’re looking to and fro at Marcela and Sam. Marcela’s cheeks are stained with tears, while Sam’s face looks drained of blood. “Choose, or I’ll do it for you,” he says with glee. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Sam|◎ Page 69*][$samc to true]] [[Marcela|◎ Page 69*]] <<else>>\ You feel cowardly as you ignore him and continue to crawl over the bodies of your formerly living friends. It’s too smoky, though. You can barely see in front of you, and your sense of space and survival aren’t the best. You can barely breathe in the thickness of the smoke. Your hand slices into something sharp, and you let out a cry of pain. You cover your mouth; the coppery blood flows in and coats your tongue. Then you’re roughly pulled up; a burly man armed with a rifle drags you through the smoke, and before you can do anything, he shoves you forward. You see a hazy image of Dante standing in front of the open double doors. On either side of him stand Marcela and Sam. He has a gun pointed at each of them. <<if $sam is "masc">>Dante nods to you with a smile. “Nice to see you again, Luce. Although bad form to ditch your friend and your hubby here, I’d call you a pussy if I wasn’t in a good mood.”<<elseif $sam is "fem">>Dante nods to you with a smile. “Nice to see you again, Luce. Although bad form to ditch your friend and your wifey here, I’d call you a pussy if I wasn’t in a good mood.”<</if>> <<if $sam is "masc">>Sam moves Dante’s gun away from his head. “I’ve been waiting long enough. Can I leave?”<<elseif $sam is "fem">>Sam moves Dante’s gun away from her head. “I’ve been waiting long enough. Can I leave?”<</if>> Your eyebrows knit together. “What?” <<if $sam is "masc">>Sam looks at you as if he just realized a dog shat on the floor. “Now you can speak after you wanted to leave me to ‘die?’” he adds with finger commas.<<elseif $sam is "fem">>Sam looks at you as if she just realized a dog shat on the floor. “Now you can speak after you wanted to leave me to ‘die?’” she adds with finger commas.<</if>> “Lover’s spat,” Dante giggles and turns his attention to Marcela. He does something that makes the gun click. [[◎ Page 69|◎ Page 69**]] <</if>>

<<if $sam is "masc">>Sam adjusts his clothes and says to you, “Hopefully he kills you. If he doesn’t, maybe I can when he no longer needs you.” He blows a kiss your way and walks up the stairs. Dante’s men let him pass without a glance.<<elseif $sam is "fem">>Sam adjusts her dress and says to you, “Hopefully he kills you. If he doesn’t, I hope someone else does.” She winks at you and walks up the stairs. Dante’s men let her pass without a glance.<</if>> “Get on your knees,” Dante orders, “And beg me for your life. If you do it good enough, I’ll let you leave.” Marcela falls to the floor and clasps her hands in front of her face, raising them up. Snot runs down her nose. “Please don’t kill me. I swear I won’t tell anyone. I won’t say a word.” Dante looks over at you. “What do you think, slick? Is it good enough?” “Dante, stop playing with her and let her split,” you say angrily. “Grrrr,” Dante replies and looks at Marcela. “Beg Luce now.” “Luce! Help me, please!” Marcela begs. You raise a hand. “Marcey, it’ll be ok—” Dante presses the trigger, and her head explodes in front of your eyes. It splatters on Dante, and he swipes at it, sucking a bit from his finger. You feel the earth collapse beneath you. Your knees wobble, and you grab onto a table for support. Tears spill unbidden from your eyes, and a forced choke comes out of your mouth. “No, no, no, no, please not again,” you pray, heartbroken. Dante looks at you, raises his gun, and shoots you. You scream and fall to the ground, clutching your thigh. You press the wound and scream even louder as cold pain shoots up your body. You look up and see him standing over you. He grins and says, “Do you know that the next few hours, days, weeks—I don’t know—will be very groovy. For me.” He lifts his gun and hits you on the head. [[◎ Page 70|◎ Page 70-KIDNAP.1]]

<<if $samc>>\ You look away when you say, “Sam.” Dante pretends to whisper when he says, “You hear that, foxy? Your friend killed you.” “Dante, let’s get this over with,” Sam says abruptly and moves away from the gun. Dante lowers it, sticking it back in his belt. “Well, shit. I’m surrounded by squares,” Dante laments. He turns around and aims at Marcela. “Can you stop fucking CRYING? It’s pissing me off.” <<if $sam is "masc">>\ Marcela just cries harder. Sam throws Dante a judgmental look behind his back and then looks at you. He seems calm. “Sam?” you ask. Sam smiles at you. “What is it, honey? You look a bit confused.” Dante glances at you and snorts. “Your hubby ain’t so clean.” With a puzzled look, you ask, “Sam, what is he saying?” Sam rolls his eyes. “You really are stupid. You really never fucking noticed how much I can’t stand you?” You feel your mouth fall open. The sheer vitriol in his voice shocks you. He doesn’t sound like the same man you know. “Why do you think Dante knew where you were?” Sam asks, then points to his forehead. “Oh, shut the fuck up!” Dante orders angrily and clicks something. Sam looks at the scene. “I don’t want to be here for this. I always liked Marcey.” He turns back to you and smiles, blowing you a kiss. “Maybe we’ll see each other again, maybe not. For my sake, I hope it’s the latter.” He walks up the steps, and Dante’s men let him pass without a glance. “Luce! Help me, please!” Marcela begs. You raise a hand. “Marcey, it’ll be ok—” Dante presses the trigger, and her head explodes in front of your eyes. It splatters on Dante, and he swipes at it, sucking a bit from his finger. You feel the earth collapse beneath you. Your knees wobble, and you grab onto a table for support. Tears spill unbidden from your eyes, and a forced choke comes out of your mouth. “No, no, no, no, please not again,” you pray, heartbroken. Dante looks at you, raises his gun, and shoots you. You scream and fall to the ground, clutching your thigh. You press the wound and scream even louder as cold pain shoots up your body. You look up and see him standing over you. He grins and says, “Do you know that the next few hours, days, weeks—I don’t know—will be very groovy? For me.” He lifts his gun and hits you on the head. <<elseif $sam is "fem">>\ Marcela just cries harder. Sam throws Dante a judgmental look behind his back and then looks at you. She seems calm. Dante glances at you and snorts. “Your wifey ain’t so clean.” Sam rolls her eyes. “You really can't see it? How could you possibly think I loved you?” You feel your mouth fall open. The sheer disgust in her voice shocks you. She doesn’t sound like the same person you know. “Why do you think Dante knew where you were?” Sam asks, gesturing around. “Oh, shut the fuck up!” Dante orders angrily and clicks something. Sam looks at the scene. “I did like you, Marcey. I can't see what happens next.” She turns back to you with a neutral look and winks. “Maybe we’ll see each other again, maybe not. For my sake, I hope it’s the latter.” She walks up the steps, and Dante’s men let her pass without a glance. “Luce! Help me, please!” Marcela begs. You raise a hand. “Marcey, it’ll be ok—” Dante presses the trigger, and her head explodes in front of your eyes. It splatters on Dante, and he swipes at it, sucking a bit from his finger. You feel the earth collapse beneath you. Your knees wobble, and you grab onto a table for support. Tears spill unbidden from your eyes, and a forced choke comes out of your mouth. “No, no, no, no, please not again,” you pray, heartbroken. Dante looks at you, raises his gun, and shoots you. You scream and fall to the ground, clutching your thigh. You press the wound and scream even louder as cold pain shoots up your body. You look up and see him standing over you. He grins and says, “Do you know that the next few hours, days, weeks—I don’t know—will be very groovy? For me.” He lifts his gun and hits you on the head. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ <<if $sam is "masc">>\ You look away when you say, “Marcela.” Dante loudly says, “Wow. Never seen a wife-to-be who hates her husband so fucking much.” “Dante, let’s get this over with,” Sam says abruptly and moves away from the gun. Dante lowers it, sticking it back in his belt. “Well, shit. I’m surrounded by squares,” Dante laments. He turns around and aims at Marcela. “Can you stop fucking CRYING? It’s pissing me off.” Marcela just cries harder. Sam throws Dante a judgmental look behind his back and then looks at you. He seems calm. “Sam?” you ask. Sam smiles at you. “What is it, honey? You look a bit confused.” Dante glances at you and snorts. “Your hubby ain’t so clean.” With a puzzled look, you ask, “Sam, what is he saying?” Sam rolls his eyes. “You really are stupid. You really never fucking noticed how much I can’t stand you?” You feel your mouth fall open. The sheer vitriol in his voice shocks you. He doesn’t sound like the same person you know. “Why do you think Dante knew where you were?” Sam asks, then points to his forehead. “Oh, shut the fuck up!” Dante orders angrily and clicks something. Sam looks at the scene. “I don’t want to be here for this. I always liked Marcey.” He turns back to you and smiles, blowing you a kiss. “Maybe we’ll see each other again, maybe not. For my sake, I hope it’s the latter.” He walks up the steps, and Dante’s men let him pass without a glance. <<elseif $sam is "fem">>\ You look away when you say, “Marcela.” Dante loudly says, “Wow. Never seen a husband-to-be who hates his wife so fucking much.” “Dante, let’s get this over with,” Sam says abruptly and moves away from the gun. Dante lowers it, sticking it back in his belt. “Well, shit. I’m surrounded by squares,” Dante laments. He turns around and aims at Marcela. “Can you stop fucking CRYING? It’s pissing me off.” Marcela just cries harder. Sam throws Dante a judgmental look behind his back and then looks at you. She seems nonchalant. “Sam?” you ask. Sam smiles at you. “What is it, babe? You look a bit confused.” Dante glances at you and snorts. “Your wifey ain’t so clean.” With a puzzled look, you ask, “Sam, what is he saying?” Sam rolls her eyes. “You really are dumb. You really never fucking noticed how much I can’t stand you?” You feel your mouth fall open. The sheer vitriol in her voice shocks you. She doesn’t sound like the same person you know. “Why do you think Dante knew where you were?” Sam asks, then points to her forehead. “Oh, shut the fuck up!” Dante orders angrily and clicks something. Sam looks at the scene. “I don’t want to be here for this. I always liked Marcey.” She turns back to you and smiles, blowing you a kiss. “Maybe we’ll see each other again, maybe not. For my sake, I hope it’s the latter.” She walks up the steps, and Dante’s men let her pass without a glance. <</if>>\ “Luce! Help me, please!” Marcela begs. You raise a hand. “Marcey, it’ll be ok—” Dante presses the trigger, and her head explodes in front of your eyes. It splatters on Dante, and he swipes at it, sucking a bit from his finger. You feel the earth collapse beneath you. Your knees wobble, and you grab onto a table for support. Tears spill unbidden from your eyes, and a forced choke comes out of your mouth. “No, no, no, no, please not again,” you pray, heartbroken. Dante looks at you, raises his gun, and shoots you. You scream and fall to the ground, clutching your thigh. You press the wound and scream even louder as cold pain shoots up your body. You look up and see him standing over you. He grins and says, “Do you know that the next few hours, days, weeks—I don’t know—will be very groovy. For me.” He lifts his gun and hits you on the head. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 70|◎ Page 70-KIDNAP.1]]

<h2>//__''1967''__//</h2>\ <<audio "classy" loop play>>\ The mansion was crowded with people. Your friends, your cousins—which are numerous—and old people you know and don’t care for. Your Pa said you had to be nice to his friends because it’s “polite.” Who cared about that? This was your party and your house! You didn’t have to be nice to anyone. The band played gentle classical music in the front of the lounging room. To call it a room would be an understatement, it was the size of a football field. You had wagered there's about 200 people there, at least from what you could see peeking out from behind the wall of the upper floor. You looked at the grand staircase, a red carpet rolled down its steps and lights dangling from its railing. You’re were meant to make a grande entrance. Your parents didn’t understand why but they’re old, what did they know about making an impression? Back in their days a party was an old radio and some church wine. You snickered at your own joke. You scanned the crowd. Everyone you personally invited seemed to be here. Perfect. There were a lot of presents on the tables. Perfect. Bee was not being too annoying while tugging at your Ma’s skirts. Perfect. Lazlo was—you tilt your head—not here? You squinted. How hard was it to miss a red-head in a sea of brunettes and blonds? <<if $lazloIncest>>\ You tapped your foot impatiently on the floor. You didn’t see him anywhere. He was supposed to be there with your family and he wasn’t. Trying to get him to talk to someone was like trying to pull teeth. He would bring down the party anyway, being all sad and stuff. He thought his life sucked? The baker didn’t even finish your cake. You had to make do with the back-up cake which was 4 tiers instead of 6. <<else>>\ You shrugged. Oh well. Laz was weird about parties. He’d alwaysssss be sulking in the corner. Trying to get him to talk to someone was like trying to pull teeth. He would bring down the party anyway being all sad and stuff. He thought his life sucks? The baker didn’t even finish your cake. You had to make do with the back-up cake which is 4 tiers instead of 6. <</if>>\ You heard a loud bark of laughter and found the culprit was none other than Dante. Of course, you felt your teeth grit. He always had to try and be the center of attention. When the spotlight was yours! He somehow had been allowed to grab a bottle of wine and drink for the source. Heathen. Carmen swished her wine glass in her hand. She seemed to be studying the crowd like you. Either for a victim or… well, she only had victims, didn’t she? She was either going to make out with one of your cousins like your last birthday party or smooze up to one of those old fat balding men who work with her Dad and who smell of cigars and sweat. You huffed and stood straight. You adjusted your clothing. <<if $cism or $transf or $nbm>>You’re were wearing a classic black suit with ruffles in your cravat, silver cufflinks and shiny new leather shoes. You added a rose in your pocket as a finishing touch. Your hair was combed back with gel.<<elseif $cisf or $transm or $nbf>>You were wearing a white brocade column dress, tight around the chest and a bow around your waist. Your hair in a bouffant.<</if>> You smiled at your reflection. You looked very good. You checked the time and stopped a maid—you called her maid #3 because you never could remember what these workers were called—to tell her to get your Pa. Meanwhile, you mussed your hair in the mirror. Your complexion shined under the lights. The color of your skin, the cause of <<cycle '$skin' autoselect>><<option 'having two Sicilian parents'>><<option 'having an Italian father and a white American mother'>><<option 'having an Italian father and Latina mother'>><<option 'having an Italian father and a black American mother '>><<option 'having an Italian father and an Chinese mother'>><<option 'having an Italian father and Indian mother'>><<option 'having an Italian father and Native American mother'>><</cycle>>. You smiled again, trying to see how it looked with all your getup. The last thing you wanted was to look childish. You wanted to look older, groovier, like an adult. [[◎ Page 43]]

<<lazloIncest>>\ But you weren’t yet ready. Something—someone was missing. <<if $cisf or $transm or $nbf>>\ Pa said your brother should have escorted you down the stairs and you practically vibrated at the chance; Laz didn’t object then but he didn’t say yes either. “Are you going to miss your party, s-sister?” a soft voice dragged you out of your thoughts. Your eyes met those blue eyes you liked above all other eyes. Lazlo stood a few feet away. He wore a simple black and white suit with a tie that wasn’t tied properly. He seemed to have tried to slick back his hair and his shoes were very shiny. A huge smile burst across your face like the bloom of a sunset. Lazlo reciprocated the smile and it made your stomach jump. He never smiled at you like that. “You called me sister,” you commented, your breath made it barely sound like a sentence. He shrugged. “I did.” “Why aren’t you downstairs with the others?” He slightly squinted. “Don’t you need a chaperone?” You felt your face heat. “I didn’t think you’d want to.” He walked up to you. “It’s your 15th birthday, Luce. I’d do anything you want.” Suddenly you were very aware of how hard your heart was beating inside your chest. “Do we go?” “Wait.” You raised your hands and he watched them with trepidation as they hovered over his tie. You tried to swallow a lump in your throat as you started tying his tie properly. You saw his Adam’s apple bob and your shaky fingers tried to make this go by faster. “Fuck,” you mumbled. “Luce, don’t swear,” he chastised. You rolled your eyes. “It’s done.” The tie hung perfectly from his neck. There were things you would change about what he was wearing if it were someone else. But it was him and he looked perfect. He smiled down at your work and then offered you his arm. “Ready?” “Yeah,” you replied and took it. <<else>>\ You looked out again and you saw red hair. You leaned out further and there he was, with the rest of your family. He caught your eye and you smiled at him. He smiled back slowly. He jerked his head slightly, as if to say ‘aren’t you coming down?’ You jerked your head in response and he understood. He whispered something to your Pa, who gave him a nod. Your brother climbed up the stairs and when he was only steps away, he whispered, “Don’t keep them waiting all night.” “I was waiting for you,” you whispered back. Your eyes swept over what he was wearing. A simple black and white suit with a tie that wasn’t tied properly. He seemed to have tried to slick back his hair and his shoes were very shiny. He looked mildly flushed as he responded, “I’m not that important. Younger brother doesn’t make much of a splash.” A huge smile burst across your face like the bloom of a sunset. Lazlo reciprocated the smile and it made your stomach jump. He never smiled at you like that. “You called me brother,” you commented, your breath made it barely sound like a sentence. He shrugged. “I did.” You could’ve stayed there, smiling like an idiot all night, but the voices from downstairs were getting louder. “What if I trip on my ass?” “You won’t.” “I should’ve gotten an escort. A nice girl in a pretty dress. If I fell I could blame her,” you said nervously. Lazlo shook his head but there was a small smile on his face. “I would, but… you know I can’t.” You rolled your shoulders. “Pansies.” Lazlo made room for you to pass but when you do, you notice his tie—it was not tied well at all. You raised your hands and he watched them with trepidation as they hovered over his tie. You tried to swallow a lump in your throat as you started tying his tie properly. You saw his Adam’s apple bob and your shaky fingers tried to make this go by faster. “Fuck,” you mumbled. “Luce, don’t swear,” he chastised. You rolled your eyes. “It’s done.” The tie hung perfectly from his neck. There were things you would change about what he was wearing if it were someone else. But it was him and he looked perfect. He smiled down at your work. “I’ll be right behind you,” he swore. “Please,” you whispered back. <</if>>\ <</lazloIncest>>\ “Everyone!” your Pa yelled from the first floor. “Can I have your attention, please?” You nearly bounced with excitement. The crowd barely quieted down. Your Pa said, “Can everyone please pay attention?” The crowd continued to talk and you huffed. What the hell was their problem? Didn’t they know who they were here for? An ear-piercing whistle cut through the air and immediately silenced the room. “Thank you, Carmen,” Pa said. “As you all know, we’re here to celebrate the 15th birthday of my $name,” he paused. You grinned, he did it! You remembered mentioning it over and over until he told you to be quiet. It needed the dramatic effect. <<if $lazloIncest>>\ <<if $cisf or $transm or $nbf>>\ “Without further ado, here’s my beautiful Luce,” he proclaimed and you stepped out onto the landing at the top of the stairs. Hundreds of eyes fastened upon you. You felt your insides swirling, a sensation that would make anyone else feel like vomiting, but to you it felt like taking drugs. Your head felt like static, your limbs felt fluid like water, and your pupils dilated. “…escorted by her brother.” You deliberately took your time going down the stairs, making sure that everyone could hear every individual step you took. Lazlo smiled amusedly at the display, but followed your lead. When you arrived at the bottom of the stairs, Lazlo let go of your arm and took a step back as your Pa presented you. You wanted him there—closer to you, but you knew he hated stuff like this. He was the only person in the world you wouldn’t push. Your father offered you his arm, which you took, and he led you in front of the crowd. <<elseif $cism or $transf or $nbm>>\ “Without further ado, here’s my handsome son,” he proclaimed and you stepped out onto the landing at the top of the stairs. Hundreds of eyes alighted upon you. You felt your insides swirling, a sensation that would make anyone else feel like vomiting, but to you it felt like taking drugs. Your head felt like static, your limbs felt fluid like water, and your pupils dilated. “With his brother right behind him.” You deliberately took your time going down the stairs, making sure that everyone could hear every individual step you took. Lazlo laughed behind you at the display, but followed your lead. When you arrived at the bottom of the stairs, your father gestured for you to stand in front of him. Lazlo took his place behind you. You wanted him there—closer to you, but you knew he hated stuff like this. He was the only person in the world you wouldn’t push. <</if>> <</if>>\ You beamed, flashing your recently brightened teeth. “Thank you for coming to my party,” you began. Your Ma had tears in her eyes. You internally grimaced—why did she have to be so embarrassing? You’d //have// to talk about that later. “I hope the presents are worth it,” you said with a very serious tone, in contrast with the sociable smile on your face. It made the guests laugh, although your Pa gave you an admonishing look. [[◎ Page 44]]

Ignoring him, you went into the crowd to mingle with your friends. You caught Carmen eyeing your outfit and then snorting before taking a sip of her drink. You got the urge to tell your Pa to kick her and her strange family out. Not at all the type that should be at an elegant party like this. Mr. Greco, with his mean face, stood in a group with other gross old men, not saying much. He always freaked you out. His eyes were so black. Mrs. Greco wasn’t that much better. She stood with your Ma, a plastic smile on her face, her hair pulled back in a severe bun. Your friends were saying something, but you didn’t pay much attention because Dante Greco was slipping his hand around the butt cheek of your cousin Frannie. You clenched your hand into a fist and looked for your Pa. But you couldn’t see him, when every Italian man looked like him. <<lazloIncest>> In the hubbub of the party, Lazlo disappeared; you would swivel your head around, aching to see that shock of red hair. But no such color stood out. You mingled but there was a growing irritation in you. Couldn’t he just fucking… get over his issues for tonight? For you? He called you a $luce.siblingTerm. You had always wanted that. For him to see you as family, as something permanent because if he didn’t it felt like he was waiting to leave. Now this confirms he won’t leave ==you== the family. So why is it that when you finally heard the word you wanted from him, you feel so disappointed? Fuck Lazlo and the complicated feelings he makes you feel. <</lazloIncest>> One of your lackeys—who you had convinced you valued her friendship and not that her dad had a helicopter—started trying to tell a joke. “So a man walks into a bar and orders a drink. A minute later, he heard someone say, ‘You look great. Have you lost weight?’ He looked around, but there was no one there. A minute later, he heard, ‘You know, you don’t look a day over 30.’ He looked around again, but there was no one but him and the bartender, so he asked, ‘Did you hear that?’” You were about to roll your eyes, you noticed how some of your friends looked interested. Your hands curled around the stem of your glass. She smiled, clearly savoring the attention she was getting at YOUR party. Had everyone lost their minds? <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Finish the joke [Seduction]|◎ Page 45][$anno1 to true]] [[Tell her to shut up [Spoiled]|◎ Page 45][$anno2 to true]] [[Compare her to an animal [Intimidation]|◎ Page 45][$anno3 to true]] [[Humiliate her after she’s done [Cunning]|◎ Page 45][$anno4 to true]]

<<if $mom1>>\ “How many people could say they had that?” you asked. “It’s the greatest feeling in the world.” Your Mother looked sad at your response; she laid her hand on your cheek. <<elseif $mom2>>\ “Clothes, trips, cars, jets, concerts, houses?” you asked. “It’s like I have a genie.” Your Mother looked sad at your response; she laid her hand on your cheek. <<elseif $mom3>>\ “Or else why do I have the life I have?” you asked. “To be the best. There’s power in that.” Your Mother looked sad at your response; she laid her hand on your cheek. <<elseif $mom4>>\ “We have a lot, right. But we could and should have more,” you said. “And that always makes me feel better.” Your Mother looked sad at your response; she laid her hand on your cheek. <<elseif $mom5>>\ Your Ma was about to say something when you pretended to gag. “God damn, that sounded corny, didn’t it? I almost vomited a little. Remind me to never try to be saintly again.” “Don’t curse,” she chastised. She looked sad at your response; she laid her hand on your cheek. <</if>>\ You looked at her and noticed how tired her eyes were. “Ma, are you ok?” She nodded, a strange smile on her face, “Of course. It’s my baby’s birthday. How couldn’t I be?” You felt a prickle of worry. Ma never liked to say when her symptoms flared up. “Oh, Luce don’t give me that face. I’m fine. You’re trying to distract me from giving you a life lesson, you clever fox.” “I just don’t get why people can’t just do what I want. Is it that hard? Why do I have to be a better person, why do I have to change?” “You’re so young. One day you might understand what I mean.” But you already had spotted your Pa, walking into the room with a senator from somewhere you didn’t know. “Yeah, thanks, Ma,” you said dismissively and rushed after your Pa. After hemming and hawing for the better part of an hour, your Pa threatened to have your party finished early, so you seethed internally as you chatted with your guests and waited until present time. It felt like it took hours. You wished you could’ve opened them at the beginning, but your Pa said that was rude and that he expected you to work on your poker face. The servants brought out the golden high-backed chair that you used every year to open presents on. You felt like royalty as everyone—nearly everyone, the Greco siblings were missing—surrounded you and watched you open the presents. The first present was from Pa and Ma. You shook it near your ear. You didn’t hear anything and then ripped into it. You pulled out the smaller box, lifting the lid to reveal what you wanted and knew you would get. You put it on your wrist. You flashed the diamond-encrusted watch this way and that way so that everyone could see. If you were alone, you would’ve screamed. Of course, your dad would gift you this. You couldn’t believe you ever doubted. So what if you failed a class and got suspended for skipping school? Those things didn’t matter. You were Luce $surname. Your name was the only thing that mattered. Bianca leaned toward it and giggled when the light flashed in her eyes. “Do you like it?” She nodded. “Pretttyyy.” At the end of the day, you were still the greatest $luce.childTerm your Pa and Ma could’ve asked for. You jumped up and threw your arms around them. “Thank you!” you said excitedly. Your Pa patted you on the head. “Anything for you, Tesoro.” <<if $lazloIncest>>\ You looked around, and you still didn’t see your brother. “Pa,” you asked softly, “Where is Lazlo?” Your Pa gave you a wistful smile. “You know he doesn’t like these types of parties, sweetheart.” You ground your teeth together and made no move to hide your feelings. No one knew how to calm you down, so everyone awkwardly went back to mingling. Your parents tried to comfort you, but you just shrugged them away and stomped upstairs. You headed straight for where you knew he would be. Your clenched fist was ready to pound on his door when it opened and Lazlo appeared. A sheepish smile appeared on his face. “Luce, I was just going to come look for you.” “Where were you all night?” you shrilled. “It’s my party and—” you looked down. He held a small box in his hands and presented it to you. “Happy birthday, $luce.siblingTerm.” He said those words so quietly, you would wonder if you imagined them. Your eyes started watering very quickly, so you took the box and ripped it open. Inside was a bracelet. It was cheap. A simple black, braided leather bracelet. Something you wouldn’t consider ever getting. It wouldn’t fit with your wardrobe at all and people would make snarky comments about it. Yet, you knew from this second on, that you would never take it off. You slipped it on. His cheeks were red but he refused to let go of your gaze. His eyes held so much love for you, you felt like you were going to melt to the floor. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You told him you loved him|◎ Page 47-LAZ][$BL to true]] [[You hugged him|◎ Page 47-LAZ]] <<else>>\ You grinned widely and leaned back. “So, where are my other presents? I can’t only have one. Last year I got three, and this year I should get four. You promised.” Your Ma and Pa exchanged glances; before they could answer you, your Pa handed you a smaller gift from his pocket. “Ohh,” you said curiously. “What is it?” Your Pa smiled softly. “Open it. It’s from a very special person.” You raised an eyebrow; that meant it wasn’t from either of your parents. You smiled and ripped into the wrapping paper. You saw a small bracelet with colored beads on a black band. Each bead was one of your five favorite colors. It was <<cycle '$bracelet' autoselect>><<option 'pretty'>><<option 'it’s kind of ugly'>><</cycle>>. “This looks cheap,” you said abrasively and looked up. “Who gave me this, and why didn’t they read the instructions?” Your Pa’s smile fell and he scolded you in a low voice. “Luce, don’t be ungrateful. There are more to gifts than what they cost.” You shut the case and threw it on top of the box the watch had come in—which was on the floor. The guests went quiet, giving each other looks that you didn’t care to decipher. “Luce,” your Pa said in disappointment. You looked down at the next wrapped gift. “This one looks big.” You brought it to your ear and shook it. In the intervening years, you had lost track of where that bracelet went, never having worn it once. [[◎ Page 47]] <</if>>\

<<audio "classy" stop>>\ <h2>//__''1970''__//</h2>\ Frayed at the hems, clearly discolored, and his shirt had an old, nearly faded yellow stain on the lapel. How much did headmasters get paid? How much was a lot of money? Or did they get paid almost nothing? Then, how much was too little without sounding stupid? “Um, 30K?” you said doubtfully. <<if $cisf or $transm or $nbf>>\ Headmaster Michaels raised his bushy eyebrows. “What was that, Miss $surname?” <<elseif $cism or $transf or $nbm>>\ Headmaster Michaels raised his bushy eyebrows. “What was that, Mr. $surname?” <</if>>\ You pursed your lips. “50k?” The headmaster cleared his throat and asked, “$surname, could you lower your sunglasses, please? It is disrespectful to wear them inside when someone is talking to you. You’ve been told this by your teachers before.” You grumbled, but lowered your sunglasses down the slope of your nose, peering at the old man from underneath your eyebrows. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “In our last conversation, we had spoken about your behavioural issues and your frequent truancy. That was last year and since then you have not changed your behaviour. Spitting on other students, talking back to your instructors, cursing, gambling, handing coursework in late or not at all, spreading rumours with your group of friends about…” //Paul said there’s a Grateful Dead concert this weekend in California. I need to ask Pa tonight if I can borrow the jet… probably get that coat I saw in… going to Paris next week but I don’t want to bring Minnie because all she’s going to do is whine about breaking up with… have to tell Ma about… pissed but maybe you can… Bee’s birthday is this month or the next?// <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ “MISS <<print $surname.toUpperCase()>> DO YOU HEAR ME?” Headmaster Michaels yells, having the gall to not only interrupt you but yell at you. <<elseif $cism or $transf>>\ “MR. <<print $surname.toUpperCase()>> DO YOU HEAR ME?” Headmaster Michaels yells, having the gall to not only interrupt you but yell at you. <<else>>\ “<<print $surname.toUpperCase()>> DO YOU HEAR ME?” Headmaster Michaels yells, having the gall to not only interrupt you but yell at you. <</if>>\ “What?!” you yelled back. The headmaster looked like he wanted to strangle you, and you didn’t even know why. “Are. You. Listening. To. Me?” he emphasizes each word as if you’re mentally <<cycle '$stupid' autoselect>><<option 'dumb'>><<option 'retarded'>><</cycle>>. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“Maybe if you had anything interesting to say…”|◎ Page 48][$pri1 to true]] [[“Remind me of who my father is.” [Intimidation]|◎ Page 48][$pri2 to true]] [[“How are you liking the new raise?” [Cunning]|◎ Page 48][$pri3 to true]] [[You smile, biting your lip. [Seduction]|◎ Page 48][$pri4 to true]] //[TW: Implied statutory SA]//

<<if $pri1>>\ His mouth fell open, completely flabbergasted, as you picked at your nails. “But as is, all I hear is noise.” “I—” he tried to say and then swallowed. He eyed you as if not believing what he was seeing in front of him. You knew you looked good today. “Can I go now?” you asked, already standing up. “I have social studies.” “But we still—” he began. “Perfect. See you later, Mike,” you walked away and waved. <<elseif $pri2>>\ His eyebrows knit together. “Excuse me?” <<set $Intimidation += 0.2>> You tilted your head slightly and smiled. “Who is my dad?” He blinked and stared at you silently for a few seconds before answering, “Antonio $surname.” “Exactly,” you pointed a finger up. “The one and only. Do you know how important he is?” Headmaster Michaels nodded, not quite understanding what you were getting at. You were surrounded by idiots. You leaned forward. “Well. If I were a poor headmaster with a suit that smells like cash, working at a private high school and my position depended on a powerful man, I would think twice about trying to punish me. My Pa loves me a lot, and I only need to call him, and tomorrow someone else will be sitting here while your ass is on the street with your boxes of—” With your fingertips, you grabbed a coffee mug that said //World’s Best Headmaster!// “Whatever this is.” You let the mug fall onto its side, rolling across the table before Michaels caught it. He held it close to his chest. He looked at you with a mix of contempt and disbelief. You offered him a friendly grin. “I guess that settles that. I’ll see you around, Mikey.” You raised your thumb as you backed away and then left. <<elseif $pri3>>\ He narrowed his eyes at what seemed like a non sequitur. You goaded and smiled. “Come on, tell me.” <<set $Cunning += 0.2>> “It’s very nice,” he replied plainly. You nodded. “That’s good. My Pa thought you were doing such a good job leading this school. I heard that a few parents were talking about replacing you, but thanks to my Pa that didn’t happen. He’s given a lot to this place, right? The new library, better amenities in the teacher’s lounge, and I think the new uniforms too. He’s just given so much, I can’t remember it all.” Headmaster Michaels stared at you stonily, his hand flexing on his desk. You smiled smugly, knowing that this conversation was over. You hit the first ball of the Newton’s cradle and it struck the others, the entire row moving from left to right. “Nice,” you said and stood up. Tugging on your coat lapels, you nodded in farewell and left. <<elseif $pri4>>\ <<if $nbm or $nbf>>\ You stood up and walked around the side of his desk, your hand trailing along the surface of his things. Headmaster Michaels pushed his seat away from the desk, trying to get away from you. He looked nervously at the door. “$surname,” he said quietly and sternly. <<else>>\ You stood up and walked around the side of his desk, your hand trailing along the surface of his things. Headmaster Michaels pushed his seat away from the desk, trying to get away from you. He looked nervously at the door. “$luce.prefix $surname,” he said quietly and sternly. <</if>>\ You put your hand on your hip and asked in a low voice, “What? I’m not doing anything.” <<set $Seduction += 0.2>> The headmaster’s face started going red and his eyes widened as you took another step closer, your hand trailing ever so slowly over his paperwork. “Do you remember how fun it was last time in this office?” He looked once more at the door and then whispered, “That was a mistake. I’m a married man.” You shrugged and placed that hand, the one fingering his pens, on his thigh. “You didn’t care about your wife when I was kneeling in this very spot.” You gripped his thigh and moved your other hand to land on his shoulder. You leaned in as he backed into his chair. In a breathless voice you said, “If you want that to happen again, you need to stop riding my ass about what I do and say. Can you do that?” Michaels gulped as you leaned in, looking down at your lips. “I—” “I agree?” you wiggled your eyebrows. Michaels closed his eyes and reluctantly nodded once. He moved to kiss you, but you straightened up, buttoning your coat. He looked at you with puzzlement. You slapped him lightly on the cheek. “I have a test in Calculus II I can’t miss. But when my schedule is free, I’ll call you.” He followed your body as you started walking away. You winked over your shoulder. “Thanks, Mike, baby.” <</if>>\ <<if $cisf or $nbf or $transm>>\ Once the door closed behind you, you started seething. You knew exactly why the headmaster had called you in today, and it wasn’t because of the myriad of things you had been doing but because of one person. You fixed your uniform, adjusting your bandana, and went to look for the little culprit. <<elseif $cism or $transf or $nbm>>\ Once the door closed behind you, you started seething. You knew exactly why the headmaster had called you in today, and it wasn’t because of the myriad of things you had been doing but because of one person. You fixed your uniform, pulling on your tie, and went to look for the little culprit. <</if>>\ There were a lot of things money could buy, and one of those things was homework. It was useless, and why do it if you could get someone else to? That someone was Adam Cooper. A brain. Also very poor. He was here on scholarship, which was why he was the perfect candidate for Luce’s 1968, 1969, and 1970 curriculum helper. But loyalty was fleeting these days, it seemed. You stopped by Roderick’s classroom, tapping on the door. Mrs. Tilly stopped writing on the chalkboard and the rest of the class turned to you. <<if $nbf or $nbm>>\ “Yes, $surname? Don’t you have class?” she asked nasally. <<elseif $cisf or $transm>>\ “Yes, Miss $surname? Don’t you have class?” she asked nasally. <<else>>\ “Yes, Mr. $surname? Don’t you have class?” she asked nasally. <</if>>\ You plastered on your best smile. “I do. But Headmaster Michaels wanted me to escort Roderick to his office.” Roderick cursed. “Goddammit, what did I do now?!” <<if $nbf or $nbm>>\ Mrs. Tilly glared at him. “Watch your language, Mr. Evans.” She looked to you. “You can take him, and $surname, please go directly back to class after you do so.” <<elseif $cisf or $transm>>\ Mrs. Tilly glared at him. “Watch your language, Mr. Evans.” She looked to you. “You can take him, and Miss $surname, please go directly back to class after you do so.” <<else>>\ Mrs. Tilly glared at him. “Watch your language, Mr. Evans.” She looked to you. “You can take him, and Mr. $surname, please go directly back to class after you do so.” <</if>>\ You nodded and started walking. Roderick ran to catch up to you. When you got to the headmaster’s quarters, you turned and started speed-walking toward the bathrooms. “Luce, where the hell are we going?” Roderick asked, his big, lumbering form slouching underneath the doorframe. You didn’t answer; instead, you crouched and started looking underneath the stalls. “Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope,” you whispered, then straightened up. “Evans, bend down,” you ordered. He did, and you stepped onto his back and looked into the stall. Adam looked up at you, curled on the seat. You smiled down at him. “Fancy meeting you here, friend.” [[◎ Page 49]]

<<if $anno1>>\ You interrupted with a sickly sweet tone to say, “And the bartender says, ‘it’s the peanuts. They’re complimentary.’” The others laughed, but your lackey’s smile deflated an inch. She still laughed with the others, but the smile you gave her was tight and she knew—oh, she must have known—that this was a warning, and you only gave one. <<set $Seduction += 0.2>>\ <<elseif $anno2>>\ “Shut up, Brittany. That joke is not only lame, but old, and worst of all, not funny,” you interjected sourly. The others exchanged glances and took sips of their drinks or smirked at each other. Brittany’s smile fell and she cleared her throat while taking a long sip. “Hey, Luce, what did your dad say about going to Mexico this summer?” one of your friends asked, and the rest clamored for your answer. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded - 1, 0, 100)>> \ <<elseif $anno3>>\ “And the bartender says, ‘it’s the peanuts. They’re complimentary,’” she laughed as if she were the funniest person she’d ever met. The others were of such low intelligence, that they laughed too. //I’m surrounded by idiots,// you thought. “Brittany, did anyone ever tell you you sound like a piggy every time you laugh?” you asked sincerely. Brittany stopped laughing, her cheeks flushing. “Um, no.” You smiled. “Well, now you know.” <<set $Intimidation += 0.2>>\ <<elseif $anno4>>\ “And the bartender says, ‘it’s the peanuts. They’re complimentary,’” she laughed as if she were the funniest person she’d ever met. Which, given how the others were laughing, they might have had low standards too. Philistines. You waited until the laughter quieted down before grinning and raising your glass. “Let’s toast.” They raised their glasses; Brittany did too. “To Brittany,” you said, and she touched her hand to her chest like the idiot she was. “For finally fixing that overbite. It was so sad how her lower lip walked into a room before she did.” Brittany’s eyes widened and your friends laughed, all of you taking a sip. She looked around, ashamed, and then took a long sip of her drink. <<set $Cunning += 0,2>>\ <</if>>\ “Luce?” a friend of yours asked. “Shush,” you replied curtly. You went over to your Ma, pushing aside an older lady who might have been one of your aunts. Your Ma was laughing at whatever moms laughed at when you tapped her on the shoulder. She turned to you. “<<if $skin is 'having two Sicilian parents'>>Vita mia<<elseif $skin is 'having an Italian father and a white American mother'>>Sweetie<<elseif $skin is 'having an Italian father and Latina mother'>>Mi amor<<elseif $skin is 'having an Italian father and a black American mother'>>Honey<<elseif $skin is 'having an Italian father and a Chinese mother'>>Xiǎo bú diǎn<<elseif $skin is 'having an Italian father and Indian mother'>>Beta<<elseif $skin is 'having an Italian father and Native American mother'>>Niinimoshenh<</if>>, you look like a diamond.” You shrugged. “Yes, I do, but you know what would turn me into coal?” Your Ma smiled indulgently, as if this were a game. “And what is that, honey?” You raised your arms. “The Grecos. Why are they here? They are going to ruin my party like they did last year.” You lowered them. Your Ma looked at the ladies and then gently guided you away from them. As you walked around the room, occasionally greeting the guests—well, your Ma did—she said, “They didn’t ruin your party.” You scowled. “I was specific in my instructions, Ma! If you’re going to get me clothes, it had to be over 100 dollars, and each family member had to get me their own gift. But noooo, what did they do?” Your Ma sighed, having already heard this complaint multiple times over the past year. “They got me a damn scarf—” “Don’t swear—” “That I saw at the mall cost 80 dollars!” you said angrily. “Cheapskates.” Your Ma squeezed your arm and handed you her drink. You took a long sip, and as you did, she replied, “Sweetheart, you can’t expect the world to bend to your will just because you have money.” You finished the wine and handed the empty glass back to her. Licking your lips, you responded, “Why not? Why have money, Ma?” She handed the wine glass to a passing waiter and put her hands on your shoulders, looking at you with a kind expression. “It makes life easier. But you know what makes it better?” You huffed, trying not to roll your eyes at her lecturing tone… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Telling people what to do|◎ Page 46][$mom1 to true]] [[Getting everything you want|◎ Page 46][$mom2 to true]] [[Being better than everyone else|◎ Page 46][$mom3 to true]] [[More money|◎ Page 46][$mom4 to true]] [[‘Being kind’|◎ Page 46][$mom5 to true]]

This story is as accurate to the time-period as can be. The main character and the other characters might have views and use offensive language that does not at all reflect the views of the author. It is merely to show the attitudes of the time and it is not meant to normalize nor endorse. It is meant to show the casual cruelty in everyday life that we often ignore or do not notice. Trigger warnings include: * Annoying, problematic main character * Optional sexual content * Violence * Guns * Slurs regarding Italians, women, queer people, and people with developmental disorders * Abuse * Torture * Drugs * Optional cheating * Implied optional SA * Sometimes the more antagonistic ROs might refer to an NB MC as their assigned gender * Death <<back>>

“L-luce,” he blubbered. “L-luce,” you mimicked with a pout. “Open the stall or my good friend Roderick will break it down,” you threatened. Adam unlocked it and you stepped off Roderick. You opened the stall and Adam rushed past you, trying to run away. Roderick—although stupid—was fast and grabbed the other person by his shirt, lifting him up. Adam nervously looked toward the door. You laid a hand on Roderick’s shoulder and smiled up at Adam. “No one’s coming, Cooper. The only one who can save you is me. So you’re going to tell me right now what you said to Headmaster Michaels about the essay I handed in for History class.” “I didn’t…” he started, sniffling. You snorted. “Sure you did. No one likes a snitch, Cooper. Professor Arnold thought my essay looked too much like yours. He called my father, but good thing he wasn’t there, so I answered it. Today, I got called into his office. I managed to convince him to drop it, but you see, I don’t like betrayal. I actually despise it more than anything. So tell me what you said because I have a feeling that from now on they’ll be looking at my work more closely and I won’t be able to use you anymore.” Adam’s face got pinched for a moment, as if calculating what the best course of action was. He sighed. “I told them that I had been doing some of your work, but only this year! I didn’t tell them about last year or the year before or the year before that.” You left him dangling as you turned away and paced, thinking of ways to get this swept under the rug. You were graduating this year, and you’d be damned if you’d let Headmaster Michaels, with all his unfounded and unfair hatred against you, ruin your chances of studying abroad. You looked up at the light of the bathroom and immediately figured out the solution, smiling deviously. You turned back to the other two. Adam’s shirt looked like it was ripping, and Roderick was sweating. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“Adam you’re going to say you were the one cheating.”|◎ Page 50][$tac1 to true]] [[“Have you ever heard the rumour that Michaels is inappropriate with students?”|◎ Page 50][$tac2 to true]] [[“I’ll pay off Professor Arnold.”|◎ Page 50][$tac3 to true]]

<<if $tac1>>\ Roderick dropped Adam, who scrabbled up. “What? No, Luce, you can’t make me do that.” You shrugged. “Yes I can. You’ve been doing my work long enough for me to say that and for you to confirm it.” Adam shook his head. “No, I’m not doing that!” You nodded to Roderick, who punched Adam in the arm. He yelped and was pushed toward the sinks. You crossed your arms. “Roderick can keep going. Like I said, no one is coming to help you. You do this for me, you’ll get expelled but I’ll make sure you get into a good school. Not as good as this one, but good enough to get you into a good college.” Adam rubbed his arm, his eyes downcast and teary. You held out your hand. “Deal?” Adam hesitated, still thinking he could get out of this. But he knew you, he knew your family, he knew it was his word against yours. Dejectedly, he took your hand. You were vindicated. Adam was expelled and you received a formal apology from the history teacher and Headmaster Michaels. You smiled smugly the day he had to say he was ‘sorry’ through gritted teeth. <<elseif $tac2>>\ Roderick dropped Adam, who scrambled up. They both looked at you with surprise. “What?” Adam asked. You nodded sadly. “Yeah, there’s been rumours about him peeking under girl’s skirts and keeping football players after games to ‘talk.’ He’s always been weird with me but when I was in his office today,” you lowered your voice and looked around for dramatic effect. The other two leaned in to listen. “He touched my knee and said he could ‘make this all go away’ if I let him lock the door of his office,” you sighed. “It was horrible.” <<if $cism or $transf or $nbm>>\ Adam and Roderick’s eyes widened. “Fag,” Roderick said. <<elseif $cisf or $transm or $nbf>>\ Adam and Roderick’s eyes widened. “Creep,” Roderick said. <</if>>\ <<if $pri4>>\ You assented with your head. It wasn’t like you were lying. He was a creepy asshole who didn’t mind having a student in between his legs last week. You knew that was a breach of ethics. He deserved whatever he got. <<else>>\ You assented with your head. So what if you were lying? It could be true. It sounded true. Truth was whatever you made it. He deserved it for raising his voice at you and trying to get you in trouble. No one fucked with you. <</if>>\ You laid a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “If you back me up when I report this, then all is forgiven.” Adam looked from you to the hulking Roderick and quickly agreed. The day Headmaster Michaels came out of his office with his things, students crowded the hallways, trying to see the show. You were in the front-row seat. He stared at you with venomous eyes as he was escorted out by security. Your father was furious, wanting to send him to prison, but you didn’t want to spend time in a boring trial, so out of charity you let Michaels off fairly lightly. <<elseif $tac3>>\ Roderick dropped Adam, who quickly scrambled up. You sighed. “This is going to be annoying. I’ll have to tell my father to give me money and then pretend I’m spending it on clothes, when I’m actually giving it to a Professor who doesn’t know the difference between satin and charmeuse. I’m quite frankly too good of a person.” You dismissed Adam with a wave and looked for the nearest payphone. It took a bit of pleading to get your Pa to agree to the amount of money you were asking, but like always he couldn’t resist you. The next day you went to Professor Arnold’s class before first bell and laid the money on his table. You had a whole speech planned out, but before you could barely begin, he agreed, his greedy hands shoving the money into his briefcase. When Professor Arnold told Headmaster Michaels about his mistake, the latter didn’t look at all convinced. But since Adam backed up your version of events, he had nothing to go on. He watched you like a hawk from then on, always at the ready to accuse you of something. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 51]]

Is your current name, the same as your birth name or same as the flashforward (thus you having a deadname and a true name)? //Note: You don’t have to have a dead name, it simply makes flashbacks coherent timeline wise.// <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[It is the same as my birth name|◎ Page 15]] [[It is the same as the flashforward|◎ Page 15*]]

__<h1>Chapter Two: Would you love you, Luce?</h1>__\ <<audio "scratch" stop>>\ You’re not the type to get hurt much. You were always the type to hurt others. Never physically, at least not by your hand. But when was the last time you felt physical pain? You stepped on a shard of glass a few years ago. You slipped on some ice and landed on your ass last Christmas. You got some routine blood work done. You have nothing to compare the pain you feel now. Your head throbs with the sting of a thousand needle pricks. A sharp sensation that crawls along the side of your head like a spreading wound. You feel sticky blood plastering your hair to your cheek. The throb on your leg has lessened to a dull ache that might be a good thing or a bad thing. You know little about guns. <<if $studies is 'medicine'>>You know a bit about gun wounds from school. You can still move your leg, that means you likely weren’t hit anywhere serious. Or the adrenaline coursing through your body is protecting you from screaming in pain.<<else>>For all you know, your leg might be about to fall off. Great, you’ll be a cripple.<</if>> Happy 1975 to you. You don’t know how long you were out for. All you do know is that once you woke up you couldn’t see shit because apparently some asshole put a blindfold on you. Motherfuckers, they already ruined your New Year's Eve party and now this? You’re definitely going to be sending someone the bill. Marcela’s dead face flashes in your mind. You shake your head to push away that thought. Nope, no can do. She’s dead, you’re alive and you need to get the hell out of whatever it is you’re in—you can only stand looking like a disaster for so long. You probably look… ugly. You nearly gag. You puff up your cheeks and blow out the air. You made your objections known, obviously. You were in a car. You demanded to be able to at least see. No one answered you! Actually, even worse! That little bitch, Dante, smacked you or had someone else do it. Your other cheek still stings. Oh, he is so dead when you get out of here. Your Pa will hear all about this. [[◎ Page 71|◎ Page 71-KIDNAP.2]]

<<audio "midnight" loop play>>\ Anyway, after that you somehow fell asleep. When you woke up, someone put a cloth over your face and you feel asleep again. You partied hard enough to know what chloroform is. You woke up a few hours ago and you felt your hands tied behind your back, something solid wedged in between your arms and your back. You tried to move your feet but they were bound to something hard and cold. When you realized someone had the audacity to tie you to a chair, you started bitching like no one ever has. You got smacked again, so hard your teeth rattled. That did shut you up for a bit, which pissed you off even more, no one shuts you up. And now you’re here. Still tied to a chair. Still blind-folded and you feel too hot. Not in the physical sense, unfortunately. In the temperature sense. You feel the sun’s warm rays beating down on your right arm, your right leg and half of your face. The sticky bloodied side, which is not good. You can hear the sound of waves, it’s muffled but it's there. Nothing else though. It seems like you’re somewhere nice and not the bowels of a dungeon. The door opens and you startle, a small gasp escaping your lips. “Who is it?” You ask, hating how your voice wavers. “At least let me see your face you fucking—” You get slapped again, hard. You start tasting blood in your mouth. The blindfold is pulled off of you and the bright blue sky nearly blinds you, you press your eyes closed. “Aww, come on little Luce, you’re not afraid of the big bad sun, are you?” Dante’s teasing voice asks. You peek one eye open. There he stands, or, well, he’s bent so he can be at eye-level with you. His calloused fingers on his knees. He has a sharp smile on his face that makes your insides twist in displeasure. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“I’m afraid of that ugly thing you call a face.”|◎ Page 72-KIDNAP.3][$dr1 to true]] [[“I prefer sunbathing not sun-cooking.”|◎ Page 72-KIDNAP.3][$dr2 to true]] [[“What did I do to deserve this?”|◎ Page 72-KIDNAP.3][$dr3 to true]] [[Glare|◎ Page 72-KIDNAP.3][$dr4 to true]]

<<if $dr1>>\ “How can you stand to look in—” He laughs. His smile is wide and his eyes crinkle. Your mouth falls slightly ajar. “Luce, I’m sexy. You know it, everyone knows it,” he states. You balk at his audacity. How can someone be so delusional and full of themself? People need more humbleness. <<set $Dante += 1>> <<elseif $dr2>>\ His eyebrows furrow. “What are you talking about?” You jerk your head to the window. “That big ball of fire in the sky? That’s called the sun. I know you’re stupid Dante—” He shuts you up with a swift smack. You hiss as his ring penetrates your skin. “Motherfuck—” <<if $cisf or $transm or $nbf>>\ “Don’t call me stupid, you fucking bitch.” <<else>>\ “Don’t call me stupid, you fucking poof.” <</if>>\ <<elseif $dr3>>\ He pushes his tongue against his cheek. “Probably should’ve kept yourself out of other people’s business.” “What are you talking about?” you ask. “I’m in no one’s business!” “Suuuuure,” he offers you a conspiratorial wink. “I’m serious!” “Suuuuure,” he winks again. <<elseif $dr4>>\ He glares back like you’re sharing a joke. <</if>>\ His eyes wonder along your form. Stopping at your leg for a moment, a small glint of… something in his eyes as he climbs up higher, once again stopping at your chest for a moment too long, you clear your throat and he looks into your eyes. “What the hell—” “Has anyone ever told you you look hotter covered in blood?” He asks pleasantly. Your eyebrows knit together in a look of judgment. “What?” “Yeah. Foxy as all hell. You actually look better like this than when you’re all primed up and proper. BORING,” he pretends to yawn. He reaches out to gentle touch your swollen cheek with his fingers. You hiss as he presses his nails into the tender flesh. He notes your reaction and digs in harder. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Hate it|◎ Page 73-KIDNAP.4]] [[Hate it…|◎ Page 73-KIDNAP.4][$dante1 to true]]

<<if $dante1>>\ It’s… strange. You’re angry that he’s marring your soft skin. You want to punch him for thinking he has power over you. But the feeling of… you force that thought away. No. You don’t like this at all. Absolutely not. He’s a freak and he’s dancing his dance all by himself with you as the involuntary prop. <<else>>\ The bastard and his stupid fucking face. What irks you the most is that you know he’s enjoying this. That he gets off on it. It makes you sick playing into his perverse little game. You feel dirty and you’ve never felt like that before—that’s saying something because you’ve been in places dirtier than this. <</if>>\ He lets out a small chortle before standing up straight. He clasps his hands in front of his crotch. His earring, //plain// earring, shines in the sun. His thick belt buckle adorned with purple rhinestones, casts a diamond-like reflection all over the white walls. His mauve silk button-down is wrinkled. The specks of blood are hard to see but he stands so close you can tell his whole shirt is covered in them. None of it is his own. Marcela’s. You move your head, pushing your hair out of your face, giving yourself a haughty expression. “What do you want from me, Dante? If you’re looking for a sex freak like yourself, go out and find a crack whore because I’m not in the mood and even if I was, I wouldn’t fuck you for all the Cadillacs in the world!” <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ Dante whistles. “You have a mouth on you, huh? Women shouldn’t talk like that. It makes you sound like a dyke.” <<else>>\ Dante whistles. “And here I thought you were a boring little church boy.” <</if>>\ You exhale in frustration. Dante seems to enjoy your foul mood because he takes a step closer, his crotch coming dangerously close to your face. “If you’re nice, maybe I could find something else for your mouth to work with that won’t hurt as much as my fist.” You lean back, tipping the chair, worried that you’ll fall, but if it’s to get away from this lunatic, you’ll do anything. Who does he think he is? As if someone like him could ever have a chance with someone like you. Sure, you’re of the same social class, but you don't have the same //class//. Money can’t buy etiquette. He smirks and he wiggles his eyebrows, “Or if you want we can do both? I don’t mind blood on my cock. Actually—” “WHY AM I HERE YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE?” You demand an answer. Dante reaches over and pinches the skin near your collarbone hard enough to break the surface. You cry out as he drags the skin off a few inches. He grins as he watches you squirm. He lets go and looks at the tiny amount of blood beneath his fingernails with fascination, as if your blood were unlike any other blood he—obviously—has seen before. He brings his fingers to his lips, about to taste it, taste you just like he did with Marcey. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“What the fuck is wrong with you?”|◎ Page 74-KIDNAP.5][$rt1 to true]] [[You find it oddly mesmerizing|◎ Page 74-KIDNAP.5][$rt2 to true]] [[You don’t react|◎ Page 74-KIDNAP.5][$rt3 to true]] [[“My body isn’t an all you can eat buffet.”|◎ Page 74-KIDNAP.5][$rt4 to true]]

<<if $rt1>>\ Your face morphs into both disbelief and disgust at what you’re seeing. Dante slowly licks your blood along his teeth. Savouring it. You shake your head. “Were you dropped as baby or something?” Dante laughs. “Probably. But my head’s too thick.” <<elseif $rt2>>\ The way his pink tongue slowly licks his finger, sucking his skin as his eyes look deeply into yours makes something throb between your legs. His tongue then moves along his teeth in a sensuous slide that makes your mouth dry. He sighs lowly, a sound of satisfaction of having //tasted// you. You inhale. Dante squints at you. “What?” you manage to ask, your voice hoarse. He leans in closer, as if he wants to stare so deep he could read your thoughts. You close your mouth as your space is invaded by him. Your skin prickles when his nose is inches from yours. You freeze, wondering what he’ll do next. He could kiss you, couldn’t he? <<set $Dante += 1>> <<if $kissf and '$dank' is 'did as well'>>\ He did that once didn’t he? You forgot about that. <<elseif $kissf and '$dank' is 'remembered'>>\ You never did forget your first kiss. Which has annoyed you till this day. <<elseif $kissm and '$dank' is 'did as well'>>\ He did that once didn’t he? You forgot about that. <<elseif $kissm and '$dank' is 'remembered'>>\ You never did forget your first kiss. Which has annoyed you till this day. <<else>>\ He was close enough to kiss all those years ago, wasn’t he? You remember how appalled you were. Even younger you had taste. <</if>>\ When you think about moving closer yourself, he abruptly backs away. “Weird,” he mumbles. <<elseif $rt3>>\ You watch him suck his finger, moaning exaggeratedly just to piss you off. You’re acutely aware of your face. Of what he wants and you won’t give it to him. It would only make his attentions last longer. Stoically, you see how he glides his tongue along his teeth, trying to get your blood everywhere. He makes teeth-sucking sounds that send shivers up your back and yet you don’t move a muscle nor look away. Dante tilts his head and wrinkles his nose. He dabs at your raw skin again and sucks it. He looks at you as he slowly licks your blood once more. When you merely blink at him he rolls his eyes. “Oh my God, you’re fucking boring.” <<elseif $rt4>>\ “I might be a feast for your eyes, but I don’t give it out for free,” you smile cheekily. “Especially not to Italian trash like you.” You know it’s stupid to run your mouth like this but this is the only power you have here. Dante wipes his finger on his pants and then lifts his hand to slap you, you flinch slightly and that’s enough for him to retain that arrogant look in his face. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “If I was less of a gentleman and more of a savage it wouldn’t be up to you, Sugar Tits.” <<else>>\ “If you were my type of guy and I was more of an animal, it wouldn’t be up to you, Tight Ass.” <</if>>\ You scowl at the implication and he raises his hands. “Hey, be grateful it’s me and not one of the other boys,” he winks.<<set $Dante += 1>> <</if>>\ “My Pa is going to hear about this,” you threaten, “The shit that is going to rain down on you and your whole fucking family—” He backhands you so hard, your teeth dig into your tongue you taste blood. Your head aches with the force of his hit, making you dizzy. You groan, blood trickling down the side of your mouth. When you look up at him again he’s smiling toothily, “Don’t talk about my family, or I can tell you some not-so-nice things about your papa that’ll shut up the bratty little hole you call your mouth.” But you’re you. You just can’t help but talk back. “My Pa runs circles around your family. He’s a good man and he loves me. We’re actually a family and my Pa has never hit me,” you say pridefully. “Doesn’t your dad treat your whore of a sister like a punching bag?” His smile tightens and you smile in triumph. You’re tied up but your spirit is not tied down. You bat your eyes, “Maybe that’s why you’re such a freak. Compensating for Daddy issues?” Dante looks at you for a second longer, his big smile plastered to his face like glue. He cocks his head and says, “You got balls, I’ll give you that. Most people start whining about ‘sparing their lives’ and ‘for the love of God, I’ll do anything’… blah, blah, blah. Just like that dumb bitch at the party. Your friend right?” Your smile slips. Dante either doesn’t care or doesn’t notice because he holds up a finger. “I’ll be back, don’t miss me too much, brat.” [[◎ Page 75|◎ Page 75-KIDNAP.6]]

He leaves, you can only catch a glimpse of what lies outside the door: a white wall. You sigh anxiously and look around the room. White walls surround you. There’s nothing in the room but this chair you’re on. The wall to your right is completely glass, offering you a view of the outside. You see clear blue skies, cloudless with a heavy sun. Beneath it lies a beach. Far enough where it’s hard to see people, if there are any. You try your restrains, twisting your wrists against the harsh rope. All it does is peel the skin off your bones. You’re still wearing the clothes you were wearing last night, although the material feels stiff as it clings to your skin. You move your thigh and notice a bandage on it. Probably something recent cause it looks white. So they bandaged you up, huh? You’ve never been shot before. You moan loudly, “I’m going to have an ugly scar.” And your New Year’s Party was ruined. Pretty much everyone at the party is dead. This is so going to be a problem when you get out of here. Your Pa is going to be so mad when he has to pay for funeral expenses. Your reputation is gonna take a hit. Socially, you’re screwed for at least a few years. Is there anything worse? The wound aches hotly but it’s bearable. You stop struggling, you want to think about why you could be here. It makes no sense that Dante Greco would kidnap you. The <<print $surname + "’s">> and the Grecos are allies. Your Pa and Mr. Greco have been friends since you could remember. He was the one who helped your Pa get revenge against Farrugia. Has Dante gone rogue? You remember how he tasted Marcey’s blood after he killed her. He’s crazy enough. Even if your Pa and Silvio had a falling out, why would you be involved? You’re not part of this. You know nothing. [[◎ Page 76|◎ Page 76-KIDNAP.7]]

You lean back and lay your head on the head rest, looking up at the ceiling. You’re a damn pawn. You’re actually kind of offended. What the hell? You are too important to be a piece in someone’s game. You growl internally. These people are going to grovel for your forgiveness and you know what? YOU AREN’T GOING TO GIVE IT. The shadows creep along the white ceiling and you blink at it slowly. In spite of your predicament, and the injuries you’ve sustained. This is boring enough to calm you for a moment. Yeah. You shouldn’t make a fuss now. You need to… [[◎ Page 77|◎ Page 77-KIDNAP.8]]

<h2>//__''1962''__//</h2>\ <<audio "midnight" fadeout>>\ You watched your Ma from the bedroom door. Peeking out from behind it, hoping she hadn’t seen you because then she would have held you too tight. Her tears would have gotten in your hair and you hated having to untangle it after. When she trapped you within her grasp, and laid you down on her bed, you felt suffocated. Your Pa said she was just sad, that hugging you made her feel better but you didn’t believe him. She never changed her clothes. She’s was always in her room, wearing the same clothes and crying. She had cried so much in the past month that her eyes were permanently red and swollen. Your mother was a fancy lady. She would go to the hairdresser’s once a week, coming back with tight curls and freshly painted nails. She wore pearls on her neck and gems on her fingers. Her perfume was sharp yet floral and warm. You used to love when she pulled you into her arms and rocked you to sleep, singing songs that your grandma used to sing to her. But since… that thing happened, she hadn’t been the same. Pa said to give her time but how much did she need? A month? Two months? It made you <<cycle '$reactionmom' autoselect>><<option 'sad'>><<option 'angry'>><<option 'annoyed'>><<option 'annoyed'>><<option 'indifferent'>><</cycle>>. [[◎ Page 78|◎ Page 78-KIDNAP.9]]

Pa was sad for a little bit but then he became the Pa you always knew, going back to work. He smiled with his big cheeks and laughed that loud chesty laugh that made you laugh. He would tell you stories after dinner about what it was like to grow up in Sicily while he bounced Bianca on his knee. “I could reach out of my bedroom window and grab a pear with my hand,” he said. “Pears grow on trees?” you asked. “In Sicilia they do,” he replied. You three laid on the couch, and watched the lights on the water. Your Pa ran his heavy hand down your scalp. You were curled up to him. Bianca played with his belt, and marveled at the shiny silver buckle with a horse on it. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ <<link "“What is your favorite thing about Italy?”">> <<script>> var el = document.getElementById("italyq1"); if (el.style.display === "none") { el.style.display = "block"; } else { el.style.display = "none"; } <</script>> <</link>>\ <div id="italyq1" style="display:none;"> He thought about it for a moment. His brow furrowed as he looked back in time. “The smell of the wind, the feeling of the sun on my skin and the mountains. No matter where I went, I would always feel at home because I could see those peaks. The view when you were up there? Forget about it. The most breath-taking thing—after your mother—in the world.” “There’s no mountains around here,” you noted. He shook his head. “No.” “But when you go back you see them. Are you happy again?” you asked. “It’s not the same,” he said softly. You didn’t understand. </div> <<link "“When did you leave it?”">> <<script>> var el = document.getElementById("italyq2"); if (el.style.display === "none") { el.style.display = "block"; } else { el.style.display = "none"; } <</script>> <</link>>\ <div id="italyq2" style="display:none;"> Your Pa looked at you for a long time, so long it annoyed you. This was why you didn’t like asking adults questions. “When I was a young boy, a powerful man came to power in my country. Before him, our people used to sing like mountain birds. He didn’t like that and so the birds slowly stopped singing. It was hard to find good work and the work we had was difficult and no one protected us. The only way you could have a future is if you were born rich. “The war was coming to us, it was in the air. We didn’t know when but we knew the way our leader seemed to acquiesce to and even welcome an ideology that would suppress us further,” he explained. “What does ideology mean?” He laid a hand on your head absentmindedly, his eyes faraway. “It’s a set of beliefs and ideas. This ideology made it so I left home with my friends to come to America in 1937.” </div> <<link "“Do you miss it?”">> <<script>> var el = document.getElementById("italyq3"); if (el.style.display === "none") { el.style.display = "block"; } else { el.style.display = "none"; } <</script>> <</link>>\ <div id="italyq3" style="display:none;"> “I miss the Sicily of my youth, the Sicily of my genitori and nonni. The place called by that name today is not one I know or care for that much,” he responded. “Why?” He rubbed his beard. “I don’t know exactly. Maybe it’s the people? So much poverty and violence without restraint. The streets bleed with the ancient blood of Romans.” “But Pa, you hurt people sometimes,” you said, tugging on his shirt. He sighed. “Yes, I do. But if I could go back and start again I—” He yawned. “Nothing. There’s no use in thinking about that.” He pulled you closer. “If I hadn’t done everything as I had, you wouldn’t be here and that’s worth it all, Tesoro.” </div> <<link "“Do you have family there?”">> <<script>> var el = document.getElementById("italyq4"); if (el.style.display === "none") { el.style.display = "block"; } else { el.style.display = "none"; } <</script>> <</link>>\ <div id="italyq4" style="display:none;"> “Not anymore. Your nonno died before I was born, your uncle died in the war and your nonna died before Andrea was born,” he said. “I might have uncles, aunts and cousins but I never met them.” </div> [[He didn’t seem like he wanted to answer any more questions and for this once you held your tongue and laid your head against his arm.->◎ Page 79-KIDNAP.10]]

“Luce?” your Ma yelled from upstairs. You gave your Pa a worried look. He nodded. “Go, your Ma needs you.” “But—” “Luce,” he said sternly. “We talked about this. Sometimes you have to do things, things you don’t want to do to make someone else happy. Your Ma is very sad.” You crossed your arms. “I’m not sad.” He gave you a look. He had been giving you that same look since Andrea had gone away. “Yes, I know,” he said slowly. “But it is ok to be sad. It is ok to cry. When someone we love dies—” “Goes away,” you corrected him. “Goes away,” he said, “They take a piece of us with them. The piece that they claimed as their own when you first knew you loved them. They take it with them, that is why we feel so sad. Because we can’t feel that piece anymore. We try to search for it, to feel whole but for some people, it takes longer to feel better again. That’s what loss is, Luce.” You looked away. You didn’t like where this conversation was going and you didn’t want to hear it. “Don’t fault your Ma, it is no easy thing to give birth to a human life. It’s a miracle and a great accomplishment. Then to have it end before yours. It is the singular worst pain I think I’ve ever felt. For Ana, I can’t begin to imagine. “Doesn’t the house feel quieter without your brother? The rooms feel bigger? Do you remember what his laugh sounded like?” You got up. “This is stupid.” You don’t care that you cursed. Your father called for you but you stomped away. You didn’t know what ‘loss’ is but you didn’t like it. [[◎ Page 80|◎ Page 80-KIDNAP.11]]

Regardless of your feelings, your Ma did manage to catch you coming up the stairs and gripped your hand. She was on the floor, her back leaned against the wall. Her long black hair, in disarray as it pooled by her lap. Her eyes were very red and her cheeks held dried streams of tears. “I’m sorry, baby.” You shifted uncomfortably. Why was everyone so emotional? It made you feel itchy. Andrea would’ve laughed if he were here. He said he couldn’t help it; when he got uncomfortable it would just happen. What did his laugh sound like again? She laid your hand against her forehead, it was very warm. You watched as a thin strap fell down her very skinny shoulder. You could always see her bones now. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to see me like this. I just can’t help it. I feel like I can’t go on another day,” she whispered against your skin. You wanted to escape and that made a funny feeling sprout in your chest, like when you broke a plate and your brother said it was him. Your Pa spanked him only once but he cried. She kissed your hand, her lips felt dry against your skin. “I’m sorry,” she kept whispering as sweat pearled on her forehead. She gently released your hand and laid down on the floor, her breathing shallow. Covering her face with her hands, her body began to spasm. She sobbed so terribly it made you want to bolt. It was too much emotion. “I want to die,” she whispered. <<if $reactionmom is 'sad'>>\ You felt your eyes itch and you knelt down to throw your small arms around her neck, burying your face within her hair. “It’s ok, Ma.” She broke down in your arms and you didn’t let go until your arms were tired. <<elseif $reactionmom is 'angry'>>\ Your hands balled into fists. Why was she being like this?! “All you do is cry! Stop it!” you yelled and walked past her as she tried to grab your leg. “Luce, please come back!” You slammed the door of your room. <<elseif $reactionmom is 'annoyed'>>\ Her hand landed on your shoe and you felt yourself growing impatient. She’s was more of a baby than Bee! You gently pushed her hand off and walked away. <<elseif $reactionmom is 'indifferent'>>\ You looked down at her and didn’t move until she picked herself up and walked back into her room to lay on her bed. Then you left. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 81|◎ Page 81-KIDNAP.12]]

Your Ma got sick for a bit after that, had to go to the hospital because something was wrong with her kidneys. Your Pa told you that kidneys looked like beans and that they helped clean your blood. Blood always felt connected to pain with you so it must have hurt. You bet it hurt more than when you lost your tooth after tripping and falling on the sidewalk. Your Pa tried explaining to you that Mama was going to be sick for a long time with this but you stopped listening because //The Flintstones// was on. When you would visit your Ma, she would smile softly at you. Her eyes were faraway though and you had to jump on the bed to get her to look at you. A practice the nurses didn’t like and told your Pa, but you didn’t stop doing it. You didn’t like when your Ma was looking at something that wasn’t you. It wasn’t nice and your Ma was very nice. Your Ma didn’t mind, she would scoot over and lift up her blanket to allow you to crawl in beside her. She would wrap her cold arms around you and you would press your ear to her chest. Feeling her odd breathing. “Luce,” your Ma whispered. “Yes?” “Do you know why we call you that?” she asked. You shook your head. You had been called that so much you had thought it was your real name. You know it means Light. “Your Pa wanted you to be born in Sicily, so we went there a few weeks before your birth date. He lived in a small little town that at this moment I can’t remember the name of. Anyway, you had been easy. The pregnancy wasn’t as rough with you as it was with your brother. I thought everything was ok but being as stubborn and bullheaded as you are, you wanted to come early. During a thunderstorm. A few hours before sunrise. You never make it easy, do you?” she chuckled. You pouted at her words and she kissed your head. “But there was a problem. You wanted to get out but you couldn’t. Your Pa went on horseback to find the nearest doctor. Hours went by and he hadn’t come back, I thought something bad had happened. I thought I was going to lose you and Antonio. But then… I hear voices. Your father comes in with the doctor. They got me on my hands and knees and only then you decided to come out. I remember taking you in my arms, a little bundle of a thing and looking up as the sun broke over the mountains. It was so beautiful and so painful to look at. I thought about how that perfectly described what I had just gone through. My Light. My miracle. Dispelling away the darkness,” she said softly. You pressed against her tighter. You were special. “You will always be my light,” she said, her voice so low you barely heard her. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Hug her|◎ Page 82-KIDNAP.13][$m1 to true]] [[Allow her to kiss your forehead|◎ Page 82-KIDNAP.13][$m2 to true]] [[Snuggle closer|◎ Page 82-KIDNAP.13][$m3 to true]]

<<if $m1>>\ You laid your head on her chest, feeling her gentle heartbeat and you felt so safe and warm within your mother’s embrace. Move forward. Your world demanded nothing but. <<elseif $m2>>\ Her lips were dry and chapped, you wanted to pull away but you swallowed your own needs because Mama was finally acting like her old self. Everything could be forgotten. <<elseif $m3>>\ You cocooned yourself as closely as you could, trying to hide within her love. Everything would be fine. It had to be. <</if>>\ <h2>//__''1975''__//</h2>\ You wake up with a hiss as cold water seeps into your skin. You cough and blink several times, looking wildly at your surroundings. White walls. Window. Beach. Sun. You feel a sharp pain in your leg and curse. “Wake up, sleeping beauty,” Dante’s irritating voice booms. “This isn’t a five-star resort.” You sigh, deigning to look at you tormentor. You muster up as much rage as you can in your eyes and he claps. “That’s what I want to see! A little bit of anger. It’s more exciting when my rats try to gnaw my hand off.” Dante shifts and you notice a big burly man standing in front of the closed door. He wears all black and stares intently at the wall in front of him. You don’t miss the gun strapped to his belt. He looks like the type of guy that can swat someone with one hand so hard they hit the wall and crack it. “Rats?” “What I call people like you,” he says, taking out a switchblade. “Sorry, hot-stuff. You’re not my first. Popped that cherry a long time ago. But all rough and tumbles can be made special with that special someone,” he wiggles his eyebrows. He brings the blade to his lips and ponders, “Unless you want me to call you something else?” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“The person who is going to kick your ass.”|◎ Page 83-KIDNAP.14][$dname to "ass-kicker"; $d1 to true]] [[“Call me hot-stuff.”|◎ Page 83-KIDNAP.14][$dname to "hot-stuff"; $d2 to true]] [[“Call me a rat, I don’t care.”|◎ Page 83-KIDNAP.14][$dname to "rat"; $d3 to true]] [[“Get creative.”|◎ Page 83-KIDNAP.14][$dname to "whore"; $d4 to true]] [[“Call me Luce.”|◎ Page 83-KIDNAP.14][$dname to "Luce"; $d5 to true]] [["It’s " + $name + " to you."->◎ Page 83-KIDNAP.14][$dname to $name; $d6 to true]]

<<if $d1>>\ Dante’s smile widens. “That would be fucking hot to see. You, leaving me all bruised and bloody… but the name is too long. You suck at this.” <<elseif $d2>>\ <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ He grins, “A woman who knows how to flaunt it. That’s what I like to see, hot-stuff.”<<set $Dante += 1>> <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ He grins, “A man who knows how to flaunt it. Sounds fruity but that’s what I like to see, hot-stuff.” Your eyebrows scrunch up at that. You didn’t think he so openly liked men.<<set $Dante += 1>> <<elseif $nbf or $nbm>>\ He grins, “A person who knows how to flaunt it. That’s what I like to see, hot-stuff.”<<set $Dante += 1>> <</if>>\ <<elseif $d3>>\ <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ Dante bursts out laughing. “Did you get hit on the head or something? Old you would’ve fucking pissed herself before wanting that.” <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ Dante bursts out laughing. “Did you get hit on the head or something? Old you would’ve fucking pissed himself before wanting that.” <<elseif $nbm or $nbf>>\ Dante bursts out laughing. “Did you get hit on the head or something? Old you would’ve fucking pissed themself before wanting that.” <</if>>\ You sighed. “I’m tired, Dante. You’re going to do whatever your demented brain tells you to do anyway.” <<elseif $d4>>\ Dante puts his finger against his lips and looks up at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought. //He can think?// “Hmm, how about my little whore?”<<set $Dante += 1>> You blink in astonishment. “Why the hell would you think of that?” He shrugs. “You are a whore. You could be my whore. For now.” “I’m not a whore!” He snorts. “Ah huh.” <<elseif $d5>>\ He grumbles, “That’s no fun. Everyone calls you that.” “Yeah, and you will too because you’re not special,” you say. He ignores you, “I’ll figure something out.” “Don’t.” “Yeah, don’t you worry I’ll find something you’ll like.” “I won’t.” “Sure you won’t,” he winks conspiratorially. “Oh my God,” you groan, closing you eyes. <<elseif $d6>>\ “Fancy, you must really like me. People either want to fuck me or kill me I guess—” “UGGGGGHHH,” you groan.<<set $Dante += 1>> <</if>>\ “And you know what I can call you?” you ask bitterly. Dante smiles, “What?” <<if $cisf or $transm or $nbf>>\ “Leprechaun. Didn’t anyone tell you only fairies and magical creatures are this fucking short? It’s like you’re three hairy dwarves with awful style and even worse hair,” you snark. “The hair and threads can be worked on but you still can’t ride the roller coasters at Magic Mountain and you call yourself a man! I have more testosterone in my balls and I don’t even have nuts.” <<else>>\ “Leprechaun. Didn’t anyone tell you only fairies and magical creatures are this fucking short? It’s like you’re three hairy dwarves with awful style and even worse hair,” you snark. “The hair and threads can be worked on but you still can’t ride the roller coasters at Magic Mountain and you call yourself a man! I have more testosterone in my left nutsack.” <</if>>\ You let out a breath of air. Insulting is a thirsty business but you feel good. You feel like yourself as you smirk and lean back in the chair. Dante stands there for a second, his expression frozen in that smile. You got him. Of course you did, you’re fucking amazing. You’re trying to savour your victory when he throws his head back and laughs, pretty loudly. “Oh $dname, you’re a riot! HAHA!” His eyes crinkle with how damn hilarious you are. “I meant that,” you say, confused. “REALLY.” “I know! It’s fucking priceless! You’re tied up and lookin’ like you’ve been fucked three ways from Sunday and you’re running your mouth! This is going to be //so// much fun!” he says excitedly. He brings the blade closer to your chest and you try to back up, the chair making screeching noises against the floor. Dante trails the blade along your skin, slowly, as if savoring his meal. His wide smile, showing his canines does give him the animalistic feel. As he traces along your collarbone, he asks, “Where is the folder, Luce?” You blink, your confusion making you unable to respond. Dante arrives at the raw skin on your collarbone, and twists the end of the knife along it. You let out a tiny cry and back away. He continues on as if nothing happened. “What are you talking about?” Dante snorts. “Oh, sure you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Your expression becomes even more confused. “Dante, what the FUCK!” he slices a clean line down your arm. You grit your teeth as blood appears in the slit of the newly opened skin. You watch in dismay as blood starts slowly creeping down your arm. Another scar. Another mark of ugliness. Oh Lord, you must look monstrous. You can just imagine God’s reaction to the fact that you only seek him in times of trouble. He looks at the blood on his blade and for a moment you think he’s going to lick it but instead he takes out a handkerchief and gently, //kindly// cleans it off. He puts the handkerchief back into his pocket. “Really, Luce? I’ve done this hundreds of times. People like you pretend you don’t know anything and beg like little bitches to be let go. That you won’t tell the cops. That you promise to leave and never come back,” he rolls his eyes. “Let me just make this easier and quicker because we used to take baths together.” He brings the blade to your cheek. “You either tell me what I need to know or you get to choose the best way for me to get that info out of you.” [[◎ Page 84|◎ Page 84-KIDNAP.15]]

You blink once more. The absurdity of what he is saying fails to register in your mind. What folder?! You rack your brain. You hadn’t held a folder in a long time. You don’t carry them around with you. Is he talking about documents? The only pieces of paper you carry around are your essays. <<audio "midnight" loop play>>\ Dante looks at you, his foot tapping impatiently. His blade seems to press a fraction more than it had been. If he cuts your face, he’ll get rid of the best part of you. “Come on, cat. Your Pa gave it to you. We already know that. What he doesn’t know—and believe me, we tried to get it out of him—is where it is. So…” he brings the blade to your chin. Your mind lands on the memory. Four years ago when your Pa told you to come to his study and handed you a folder. He told you to keep it safe and to never tell anyone you had it. Your mouth falls open as you realize that you haven’t seen that folder in years. You remember putting it in your suitcase. Did you ever take it out? You slowly look up at Dante, who smirks as he sees the naked truth of your face. But if you think that would save you, Dante quickly proves that it doesn’t matter. He grabs your hair and yanks your head back, exposing the expanse of your neck. He runs the blade along your throat. “If you don’t know where it is, I can make you remember really quickly $dname. My skills are the best. Just pick one and NO, picking nothing isn’t an option, unless you want me to choose. And yeah, because you would piss me off, it would fucking hurt.” //Note: potential unwanted sexual contact.// <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Proceed|◎ Page 85-KIDNAP.16][$weirdd to true]] [[Skip|◎ Page 85-KIDNAP.16*]]

He makes swirls around the delicate skin of your throat. “We can keep the knife, we can get old school with the meat gloves or—and this is a personal favorite—we can get ol’ sparky out and have you shake like you’re an old bitch with arthritis.” <<if $clothesg>>\ “I would need more skin though,” he says suddenly and without warning grabs the front of your dress and rips it open, the tearing is horrible—like metal forks on plates—to your ears. <<else>>\ “I would need more skin though,” he says suddenly and without warning grabs the front of your shirt and rips it open, the tearing is horrible—like metal forks on plates—to your ears. <</if>>\ You were never one to feel so shy. Many a night you had danced so much you would find your clothes completely messed up and showing far more than you intended. But this, how Dante did it, feels violating. You face grows hot. <<if $cisf>>\ Your breasts spring from the confines of your clothes and his eyes hungrily devour them. “<<cycle "$boob">> <<option "Jesus, I didn't know you had a rack on you, Luce. Did Christmas come early?">>” “<<option "I didn't know you had such small tits. Shame, but your nipples are perky. Did Christmas come early?">> Dante jokes. <</cycle>>” You shallow back a brigade of bitter words. He's humiliating you and he knows it. Stupid fucker. “These tits are for people who deserve them. The entire human population would come before you. The fucking bum who asks for change outside my apartment building would sooner have my tits than you,” you reply with a cold smirk. He scoffs, “Dumb bitch. I’ve seen better.” He yanks your hair until you feel a headache. “Like hell you have,” you retort and he yanks until you whimper then lets go. “What’s it gonna be then? The knife, my fist or sparky?” You shake your head. “None! Get the fuck out of here you goddamn psychopath! I’m not one of your pets you jerk off to punching the shit out of.” A sigh escapes Dante’s. As you keep babbling, sweat running down the sides of your face he bites his lip before covering your mouth. You try to move away and he presses the knife closer to your throat, the very throat that’s closing up with anxiety. His hand smells like tobacco and sweat. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Try to bite his hand|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d11 to true]] [[Stay still|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d12 to true]] [[Start crying|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d13 to true]] [[Curse him|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d14 to true]] <<elseif $cism>>\ Dante eyes your exposed chest with relish. You have never felt like covering up. He just stands there looking at them and you grew so impatient you snap, “Haven’t seen a dude’s chest before?” “Many times. Over me. Under me. In all positions baby,” he replies. You quirk an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you such a fag.” He doesn’t take to that too kindly. He immediately twists your nipple. “What’s it gonna be then? The knife, my fist or sparky?” You shake your head. “None! Get the fuck out of here you goddamn psychopath! I’m not one of your pets you jerk off to punching the shit out of.” A sigh escapes Dante’s lips. As you keep babbling, sweat running down the sides of your face, he bites his lip before covering your mouth. You try to move away and he presses the knife closer to your throat, the very throat that’s closing up with anxiety. His hand smells like tobacco and sweat. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Try to bite his hand|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d11 to true]] [[Stay still|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d12 to true]] [[Start crying|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d13 to true]] [[Curse him|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d14 to true]] <<elseif $nbf>>\ Your <<cycle '$trans' autoselect>><<option 'breasts are'>><<option 'flat chest is'>><<option 'bind is'>><</cycle>> completely exposed to his eyes. You see a brief moment on surprise of his face when he takes in what your chest looks like. [[◎ Page 86|TRANSSIDE BAR]] <<elseif $nbm>>\ Your <<cycle '$trans' autoselect>><<option 'breasts are'>><<option 'flat chest is'>><</cycle>> completely exposed to his eyes. You see a brief moment of surprise of his face when he takes in what your chest looks like. [[◎ Page 86|TRANSSIDE BAR]] <<elseif $transf>>\ Your <<cycle '$trans' autoselect>><<option 'breasts are'>><<option 'flat chest is'>><</cycle>> completely exposed to his eyes. You see a brief moment of surprise on his face when he takes in what your chest looks like. [[◎ Page 86|TRANSSIDE BAR]] <<elseif $transm>>\ Your <<cycle '$trans' autoselect>><<option 'breasts are'>><<option 'flat chest is'>><<option 'bind is'>><</cycle>> completely exposed to his eyes. You see a brief moment on surprise of his face when he takes in what your chest looks like. [[◎ Page 86|TRANSSIDE BAR]] <</if>>\

<<if $d11>>\ His hand is close enough to sink your teeth into. You lurch forward, regardless of the knife with your mouth open and this surprises him so much he drops the knife and it clatters on the floor. You both just stare at each other. “Did you just try to bite my hand?” he asks.<<set $Dante += 1>> “Hmpfh,” you reply. Dante’s eyes brighten. “That’s so fucking weird.” “You won’t be laughing when I rip your hand off,” you reply. Dante snorts at your attempts to intimidate him. <<elseif $d12>>\ Your breath catches in your throat as he gently presses into your skin. The more you swallow, the more the blade moves. He eyes you as he moves the knife along and you reciprocate while barely blinking. Your insides are trembling but your face is the mask of serenity. He moves the blade lower, the tip running down your sternum, gauging your reaction. You breathe in and out, never breaking eye contact. Dante moves the knife away and presses it to his lips. He watches you, his eyes squinting. “Either you’re a really good liar or you’re a freak,” he states. “Can’t I just not be scared of you?” He laughs. “Nope.” Dante snorts at your attempts to intimidate him. <<elseif $d13>>\ You don’t know if this is real or true fear but your eyes prickle quickly and before long you feel tears running down your cheeks. Your nose clogs up and you feel your throat working overtime to open up. “Please,” you beg. “Don’t hurt me.” Dante’s nose wrinkles in revulsion. “I hate crying. Stop crying.” You let out a tiny sob and bite your lip. “I’m sorry…I just… please… I’m scared.” Tears fall onto your lap and some land on his hand. He flinches as if you’ve burned him and wipes at his hand appallingly. “What the fuck!” he says and glares at you. “I’m sorry…” “Just—shut up and stop doing that!” he points at you with the knife. “Or I’ll carve your eyes out.” Dante’s jaw clenches. <<elseif $d14>>\ “You fucking prick son of a bitch motherfucker cocksucker piece of shit scum bag ballsack slut fuck you I hope you eat shit and die you complete waste of semen!” you yell. Dante’s eyes widen momentarily before he lets out a bark of laughter. He laughs so much he moves the knife off of you and uses the side of the blade to wipe his tears. “Jesus… fucking… HAHA!” he nearly doubles over. Ok, not the reaction you were hoping for. “You really thought that you… with your little mad face and—” he shakes with the hilarity he finds in the moment. “Shut the fuck up,” you seethe. “Too cute,” he snorts. “Luce, I haven’t laughed that hard since last week. I almost shitted.” “You’ll shit when I point a gun at your head,” you say bitterly. Dante snorts at your attempts to intimidate him.<<set $Dante += 1>> <</if>>\ “Hey, Tommy, if you had to choose a way to get our sweet Luce to talk, what would it be?” <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ The huge bodyguard by the door who has been silent and steadfastly staring at the world outside the window replies, “She’s good-looking, I wouldn’t want to ruin her face, Boss.” <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ The huge bodyguard by the door who has been silent and steadfastly staring at the world outside the window replies, “He’s a real Casanova, we would be disappointing women of the world if we hurt his face, Boss.” <<else>>\ The huge bodyguard by the door who has been silent and steadfastly staring at the world outside the window replies, “Got too much of a nice face.” <</if>>\ Dante clicks his tongue, “Why did I ask you? You’re too fucking nice.” <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ “Boss, your dad did say to not hurt her too much,” Tommy points out. Dante’s eyes flash with annoyance. “What my pops thinks is too much and what I think is too much are different. The old man can’t fault me for being a man in my prime. I need to get my fun somewhere and this little slut won’t die yet.” <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ “Boss, your dad did say to not hurt him too much,” Tommy points out. Dante’s eyes flash with annoyance. “What my pops thinks is too much and what I think is too much are different. The old man can’t fault me for being a man in my prime. I need to get my fun somewhere and this little fag won’t die yet.” <<else>>\ “Boss, your dad did say to not hurt them too much,” Tommy points out. Dante’s eyes flash with annoyance. “What my pops thinks is too much and what I think is too much are different. The old man can’t fault me for being a man in my prime. I need to get my fun somewhere and this little cunt won’t die yet.” <</if>>\ He takes his hand off your mouth and squeezes your cheeks in between the fingers of his hand, “Luce it’s gonna happen anyway. I’m actually doing you a favor, not everyone gets to choose. But I’m not the most patient guy and my pops really needs me to do my job sooooooo, pick.” You look around the room for anything that can help you, save you. But it’s so bare and Dante’s crazed face is the most overwhelming thing here. //Fuck. Shit. Damn it. Motherfucking miserable cunt.// You have to force the words out of your mouth. Words that taste like bile. Like defeat and you’re not a loser. You lost ONCE in your life, only once and it was not supposed to happen again. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“The knife.”|◎ Page 87-KIDNAP.18][$torture1 to true]] [[“Hit me.”|◎ Page 87-KIDNAP.18][$torture2 to true]] [[“Shock me you asshole.”|◎ Page 87-KIDNAP.18][$torture3 to true]]

<<if $torture1>>\ It’s like having to choose to sit behind the farty kid or the kid who has a crush on you but ten times worse. <<elseif $torture2>>\ It’s like having to choose to sit behind the farty kid or the kid who has a crush on you but ten times worse. <<if $torture3>>\ “So I can pass out and not see your ugly face,” you add venomously. He just shakes his head while smiling. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ Dante didn’t need to be told twice. With a spring in his step, he stops touching you and stands up. You try to focus on anything else but what’s about to happen. It’s going to hurt so much, the worst physical pain you have ever felt. Even though it would be totally embarrassing, you do want to stomp your foot and demand him to stop. Petulant. That’s what many people have called you in your life. You always saw it as a virtue. As you try to lose yourself in your thoughts, you land on a memory you hadn’t even remembered you had. <<if $torture1>>\ Which was perfect as Dante guides the knife along your skin, choosing what to cut at first. <<elseif $torture2>>\ Dante starts flexing his knuckles. <<elseif $torture3>>\ Dante throws a bucket of cold water on you and starts exposing more of your skin. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 88|◎ Page 88-KIDNAP.19]]

<h2>//__''1966''__//</h2>\ You hadn’t been able to sleep. You had forced yourself to go to bed indignant because your Ma got you the wrong color bathing suit. You don’t know how many times you had to repeat yourself. How hard is it to know the difference between Cherry and Scarlet?! It’s like you were the only person who knew how to dress around these parts, you swear. And then if that wasn’t enough—your Pa got home late with a bunch of his drunk buddies and made a huge noise of it. People should respect your sleep more. These good looks needed a criminally low amount of eye bags, thank you very much. Worst thing is that they were still making noise. You turned on the lamp and checked the time. The view of outside revealed it was nearing sunrise. On cue, you heard a moan and you felt a flare of anger in your chest. You threw off the covers, slipped your feet into your <<cycle '$stuffy' autoselect>><<option 'bunny'>><<option 'butterfly'>><<option 'lion'>><<option 'shark'>><<option 'star'>><<option 'turtle'>><<option 'ladybug'>><</cycle>> slippers and with a very dignified and offended walk, you stomped down the stairs; making sure to jump at the last step to show everyone that you weren’t messing around. You had your arms crossed over your chest and followed the low moans. You had expected it would be coming from the living room or the parlor or even your father’s study but each time you checked these areas they were empty. You frowned as you checked each room, the moans growing closer or fainter. You blew out air in frustration when you had checked every room on the first floor. Then you heard someone yell something but you couldn’t understand it. That didn’t matter though, what mattered was that it had come from the garage. You lifted your chin, you were very angry and your Pa and his friends would be getting an earful. [[◎ Page 89|◎ Page 89-KIDNAP.20]]

You stopped in front of the door, already preparing for the grand speech you would have unloaded onto these drunk geezers. Excluding your Pa, of course. He was not old and not a drunk. You put your hand on the knob, and were a split-second away from turning it, when you heard another moan. You weren’t a prude. You weren’t that sheltered either. Last week this boy, Jared Greenwood had brought a naughty magazine to school, showing it to anyone under the bleachers for 5 cents. Obviously, you saw it. You weren’t going to stay out of the loop. The magazine had a bare-chested blonde lady on the front. Her boobs were bigger than any you had ever seen. Sure, the only boobs you had encountered in your life were those belonging to the Moms you knew, but still, you don’t think boobs were supposed to be that big. Most of the magazine was of various women, mostly naked and showing off their tits, asses and vaginas. One lady even had her legs wide open and her fingers stretching it out. The rest were some boring articles. Who reads nowadays, anyway? Of course you pretended as if you already knew a lot about sex. You even called it ‘fucking’ because that’s what //The Rolling Stones// called it. You had even told your classmates that you had ‘done it.’ You had a vague inkling of what ‘doing it’ entailed. After that you had snuck into one of those Adult movie theaters with a couple of friends and watched some sleazy porn movie. ‘It’ hadn’t impressed you that much. If that’s what ‘it’ was, then maybe you didn’t want to do it. You shook your head. You had been thinking of that because what if those moans were of something else? You didn’t want to walk up on— “You should have thought of this before you opened your mouth to the cops, Eddie,” your father’s voice said from behind the door. You froze. Another low moan. “Please… Don Antonio….” “Don’t //Don// me, Eddie. You only say that to men you respect and by what you did you showed me that you hold no respect for me at all. You spit on all that I have done for you. You spit on my reputation, on my credibility and on my family,” your Pa said angrily. “I can forgive much, but doing something that could jeopardize my wife and children is the most dangerous thing you could have done.” “They pressured me, Mr. Antonio,” the man—Eddie—groaned. “You don’t know how much I resisted.” You heard laughter from others. “Don’t cry on us, Eddie. Be a man,” someone jeered. You pressed your ear to the door. Equally terrified and intrigued. [[◎ Page 90|◎ Page 90-KIDNAP.21]]

“If you had truly resisted, we wouldn’t be in this situation. You’ll likely be swimming with the fishes in the next hour or so but before that I want to give you some final advice as you leave this mortal coil for the great beyond. To truly resist torture you have to be strong. Not physically, no. But up here,” your Pa said. He always said ‘up here’ when you made a fuss about not getting math. He pointed to his head as a way to tell you to use your brain. Which would just make you give him the silent treatment all day because you weren’t stupid, math just sucked. You could picture him making the gesture exactly. “You can pretend you’re somewhere else, far away and that whatever is happening to you, is happening to someone else. You could also think in your mind what you believe yourself to be. Someone who isn’t a rat and maintain it, would know it deep in their bones. The toughest way though, is to pretend it doesn’t hurt you. Great burst of morale when the motherfuckers who are torturing you think they can’t hurt you. Anyone of these methods would’ve worked if only you’d been smarter than this,” he said. “No! No! Please!” Eddie screamed. You heard the chair scraping against the floor. “It won’t do you any good,” your Pa responded. “Be a man and die like one.” Eddie screamed for forgiveness, for clemency. You felt a deep seated fear form in your stomach. You started to back away, as you knew what came next and you couldn’t handle the sound of a gun. [[◎ Page 91|◎ Page 91-KIDNAP.22]]

“PLEASE ANTONIO I HAVE A DAUGHTER!” Eddie screamed. You took a step back and hit a nearby table, making the vase topple over and shatter on the floor. There was a momentary lull before you heard footsteps and bolted down the hallway and up the stairs. You nearly tripped on the top step and your father called you from the first floor. You ran to your room and slammed the door behind you. Throwing yourself under your blankets, you closed your eyes and waited. You chastised yourself for being so obvious. There was a soft knock on your door. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Pretend to be asleep|◎ Page 92-KIDNAP.23][$mi1 to true]] [[“I’m sleeping!”|◎ Page 92-KIDNAP.23][$mi2 to true]] [[“I didn’t see anything!”|◎ Page 92-KIDNAP.23][$mi3 to true]]

<<if $mi1>>\ “I know you’re awake,” he said. <<elseif $mi2>>\ You heard a chuckle. “Yes, I can see that.” <<elseif $mi3>>\ “You’re not in trouble,” he stated. <</if>>\ Your Pa slowly opened the door and waited a moment before walking into the room. His heavy footsteps made the floor creak, and you almost wanted to tell him not to walk like an elephant, but you stopped yourself. You never liked being mean to him. The bed dipped as he sat near your feet. He sighed loudly. You heard a clock tick somewhere. “Did you open the door?” he asked. You pressed your lips together and shook your head. “Good, you’re too young to see what was happening,” he said. You didn’t know where he was going with this. You didn’t do anything wrong. <<if $deadname>>\ “$deadname, Pa has to do things in his job that he doesn’t always like. Unpleasant things. I’m not proud of them but if I didn’t, bad things would happen. Andrea—” <<else>>\ “$name, Pa has to do things in his job that he doesn’t always like. Unpleasant things. I’m not proud of them but if I didn’t, bad things would happen. Andrea—” <</if>>\ “Don’t,” you replied quickly. He held up his hands, “Ok. But you understand, don’t you?” You nodded. “You hurt people.” He looked away. “Yes, I do. If I didn’t then they would hurt you and Bianca and Mama.” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“Is it right?” [Merciful]|◎ Page 93-KIDNAP.24][$dad1 to true]] [[“I don’t like that.” [Merciful]|◎ Page 93-KIDNAP.24][$dad2 to true]] [[“You protect us.” [Ruthless]|◎ Page 93-KIDNAP.24][$dad3 to true]] [[Change the subject|◎ Page 93-KIDNAP.24][$dad4 to true]]

<<if $dad1>>\ Your father’s eyes widened as if he had never expected you to ask that. “Everyone has different definitions of what is right and wrong.” “You didn’t answer my question,” you pointed out. He smiled and touched your hand. “I think in order to do right we have to do wrong first.” <<set $Merciful = Math.clamp($Merciful + 1, 0, 100)>> You made a face, “That’s a safe answer.” He chuckled softly. “Life isn’t made up of brave and safe answers. Usually you find that the only answers you get are simple and hard ones.” You sat up. “But killing is wrong. You know that and I do too. In church they tell us. Wouldn’t that mean what you do is wrong? Bad?” //Evil?// He opened his mouth, as he searched your face, his eyes betrayed a sadness? Dismay? You couldn’t tell. <<elseif $dad2>>\ He raised his eyebrows. “What part don’t you like?” <<set $Merciful = Math.clamp($Merciful + 1, 0, 100)>> You sat up. “I don’t like bad things being done because you want to protect me. I know I’ve been a bad student at school but that doesn’t mean I want to kill anyone.” He looked down at your hand. “Hopefully you never know what it’s like to want to hate someone so horribly that you wish to kill them.” “Hopefully, I thought you would want me to... for protection, like you say,” you said. He took your hand. “No, Luce. I do the hard part so you don’t have to. But being willing to take another’s life means that something ugly has grown inside of you. Something that can’t be uprooted once you stain your hands with someone else’s blood.” You asked, “What is that something?” He clenched your hand. <<elseif $dad3>>\ “Yes,” he replied quietly. <<set $Merciful = Math.clamp($Merciful - 1, 0, 100)>> You knew what your father did. You knew this guy Eddie wasn’t the first nor last man that your Pa was going to kill. But better them than you or Mama or Bianca. You knew what it was like to lose someone you loved. Why did these people who aimed to destroy your family deserve any mercy? Did Andrea get mercy? Did you? Your brother might’ve not died by their hand but he wouldn’t have been in that situation if someone like Eddie hadn’t kidnapped him. You crawled over to your Pa and threw your arms around him. He tensed for a moment before reciprocating. He smelled of tobacco with hints of lavender. “You know best Pa,” you said. You hugged him tightly once more and then let go, going back under the covers. <<elseif $dad4>>\ You look at your hands, examining your nails. “Pa, can I go to Simon’s party this Friday?” You felt his eyes on you, probing to see anything. But you kept your face stalwart and your voice calm. “Sure. Be back by 12am, please.” You groaned, “But Paaaaa, that’s too early.” You looked up at him and clasped your hands. “At least make it 1am?” You made a sad face for effect. Your Pa rolled his eyes good-humoredly at your obvious attempt to manipulate him. “Fine.” You smiled brightly. <</if>>\ He stood up and walked over to your side of the bed, he bent down and gently kissed your forehead. He whispered something in Italian, the very same thing he said to you 4 years ago. //“Tesoro, sii forte.”// <<if $torture1>>\ The first slice pulls you out of that memory. <<elseif $torture2>>\ The burst of pain on your nose knocks you out of that memory. <<elseif $torture3>>\ An electric shock drags you away from that memory. <</if>>\ You bite your tongue, a sharp pain making you almost cry. Dante’s endless black eyes peer into yours. You’re already exhausted and it hasn’t even begun and he looks like he’s just tried a piece of the cake. Your father’s advice echoes in your head. Dante will be at this for hours, it’s like a game to him. If you want to get through this without begging or losing your mind, you need to survive him. Because you aren’t going to die today. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ <<if $torture3>>\ ==Dissociate== <<else>>\ [[Dissociate|◎ Page 94-KIDNAP.25][$tactic1 to true]] <</if>>\ [[Focus on what you know|◎ Page 94-KIDNAP.25][$tactic2 to true]] [[Bare it|◎ Page 94-KIDNAP.25][$tactic3 to true]] [[Pretend to like it|◎ Page 94-KIDNAP.25][$tactic4 to true]]

<<if $torture1>>\ He grabs your wrist and slices a clean cut. <<elseif $torture2>>\ He brings his arm back and hits your cheek. <<elseif $torture3>>\ He brings the end of the baton to your leg. <</if>>\ <<if $torture1>>\ <<if $tactic1>>\ The first slice he makes on your skin feels as cold as ice and you grit your teeth to a near breaking-point in order to not scream. It’s somewhere on your arm and you don’t know whether it’s deep or shallow. You look past him even as he tries to obscure your view of anything but him. “What the fuck…” he waves in front of your face. Your most powerful memories play like a carousel in your mind. Dante exposes your thigh and raises his knife to make a shallow but long slice along the tender skin of your leg. You don’t have time to react before he takes one of your fingers and gleefully waves it at you. And it hurts. God, it hurts. A sound climbs up your throat but you force it down. He grows impatient and aims to stab into your arm when you recall… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Marcey’s voice|MARCEY1]] [[Bee’s voice|BEE1]] <<elseif $tactic2>>\ The first slice he makes in your skin feels as cold as ice and you grit your teeth to a near breaking-point in order to not scream. You look down at the shallow but appallingly long cut along the back of your forearm. You blanch at how //real// it looks. The fact that you’re actually going to be cut hits you like a ton of bricks. You let out a little whimper that’s choked by the flare of pain. “Nice,” Dante whispers softly as if he were caressing the petal of a flower instead of opening wounds on you for his own sick entertainment. “So, do you want this pretty skin to be cut to ribbons or do you want to tell me where the folder is?” he asks, batting his eyelashes for effect. You inhale and exhale before answering him, “I’m not a liar and I don’t have anything to do with whatever you have against my family.” Dante clicks his tongue and mumbles, “Let me have my fun then.” He lowers his gaze to your feet. Freezing pain explodes on your shin and you cry out. Your finger nails dig into your palms and your teeth grind together so harshly they could break. “HAHA!” Dante laughs loudly. “NOW THAT’S MORE LIKE IT! SCREAM <<print $dname.toUpperCase()>>!” //I’m not a liar.// You say in your mind as you unclench your mouth and dig your nails into your palms. //I have nothing to hide//, you swear as Dante makes a shallow cut along your knee. //I’m going to get out of here,// a promise echoes as he makes a small cut on your Achilles’ heel. You scream until you feel blood in your throat. Just when you think he can’t find more skin, without warning that coldness afflicts your shoulders, legs, stomach, chest, neck with no time in-between to let you take a break. There is nowhere that is safe from his cruelty. But even as your eyes sprout tears, you don’t lose your mind and break. You don’t babble on about promises nor do you beg. With each cut, your self-assertions gain momentum. They become real. It’s not so easy when he decides he wants to take one of your fingers. Your insides are trembling when he selects your ring finger—the ironic smile on his face isn’t lost on you especially because he peeks out from behind you to give you it—and without fanfare starts hacking away at it. <<if $cisf or $transm or $nbf>>\ You don’t know how you survive; you might’ve fainted momentarily. Dante waves your finger in front of your face. He takes the engagement ring off and places it on your pointer finger. <<else>>\ You don’t know how you survive; you might’ve fainted momentarily. Dante waves your finger in front of your face. He takes the engagement ring off and places it on your pointer finger. <</if>>\ But even you can only take so much. You find your mind slipping into unconsciousness as you hear Dante say, “Shit.” [[◎ Page 95|◎ Page 95-KIDNAP.26]] <<elseif $tactic3>>\ He’s about to make a long incision on your arm when he pauses. He notices you eyeing him and raises his eyebrows. A brief moment of confusion before he makes a slice along the skin far too tender from being heated from the sun. You set your jaw, grit your teeth and thank God that you don’t flinch and that your eyes don’t close. He looks even more confused at the look in your eyes before sucking on his lower lip and raking his eyes along your body. Not in a sexual way, but rather he’s searching for his next target. He smiles when he lays a hand on your knee. Before he cuts, he looks up at you to see if your expression would change, before making a quick and shallow cut across your flesh. A scream wants to push it’s way out, it would make it feel less painful than this but you remain staunchly quiet. “I know you wanna scream. Scream for me, Luce,” he says in a devilishly low voice. In between gritted teeth you reply, “Awww, is that the best you got? You’re getting rusty, Dante.” Dante scoffs and then cuts your throat. You almost lose your composure when you think you’re blood is about to spill but the cut, like all the others, is surface-level. Yet whenever you swallow it hurts like a bitch. But you don’t show any reaction because your pride is bigger than your pain. It might’ve taken a torture session to realize this but hey, they do say we truly come to know ourselves in difficult times. When he decides to take one of your fingers, he has the ‘courtesy’ of asking you which one. <<set $Dante += 1>> “You’ve been so good at bluffing I gotta give props where they’re due,” he claims. Sweat breaks out on your forehead when you feel the blade against your <<cycle '$fingergone' autoselect>><<option 'thumb'>><<option 'pointer finger'>><<option 'middle finger'>><<option 'ring finger'>><<option 'pinky finger'>><</cycle>>. You’re glad he can’t see your face because it does harden to mitigate the sounds that you want to make. He hacks away and each moment is the worst of your life. You don’t know how you come out the other end without so much as a squeak but before you know it he’s waving your singular digit in front of your face. <<if ($cisf or $transm or $nbf) and $fingergone is "ring finger">>\ He holds up your engagement ring. He seems be unsure of what to do with it and so, he pockets it. Even if you wanted to protest, you don’t think you have it in you to speak. <<else>>\ He puts it in his pocket like the freak he is. <</if>>\ But even you can only take so much. You find your mind slipping into unconsciousness as you hear Dante say, “Shit.” [[◎ Page 95|◎ Page 95-KIDNAP.26]] <<elseif $tactic4>>\ You look at it, your eyelids lowering and a nearly invisible smile on your lips. Dante looks at you oddly before making a slow yet long cut along your arm. You hiss but you do it in a way where it could be mistaken for pleasure. Dante stops cutting and eyes you for a few seconds before going to your thigh and pressing the knife down but not yet cutting. He looks up at you once more and starts to move the blade into your skin. His eyes don’t leave you as your skin opens it’s pearly red depths. He goes behind you, and you nearly give in when you feel him slicing your finger off. Tears threaten to burst from your eyes. He comes to face you again, waving your finger in front of your face. You bite your lip hard enough you feel a smaller wound give way underneath your teeth. Dante zeroes in on the blood growing from your lower lip and gulps. His eyes widen and the hot weather makes his mouth fall open, a low pant escaping his harsh lips. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You feel a twinge in the lower half of your stomach|◎ Page 94-PLUS][$painlove to true]] [[And you’re not ready for how much it hurts|◎ Page 94-PLUS]] <</if>>\ <<elseif $torture2>>\ <<if $tactic1>>\ <<if $pastime is 'boxing'>>\ You have been punched before, but only by boxing clothes. It was in a controlled environment and you knew you weren’t in real danger. This wasn’t the same. This was real. <<else>>\ You have never been punched before. <</if>> You always wondered if it would to ever happen because you pissed someone off. You’re good at that. Being hit in the face to the point where your head snaps back as if your neck is broken for something you had nothing to do with, is probably the worst context for a punch you could’ve thought of. When you allow the moment of the first wave of pain to pass, you keep your head tilted to the ceiling. Too in pain to move and too petty. If he wants to hit you, he has to do all the work himself. “Hey!” he grabs your chin and tilts your head back. Your vacant eyes look past him as you try and latch onto a better time. A happier time. Your face burns and there’s an annoying need to ask if he made you look ugly, but you can’t break down now. You know another punch is coming for your nose or teeth. Your chin throbs with heat. In this state of pain, humiliation and fear you remember… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Marcey’s voice|MARCEY1]] [[Bee’s voice|BEE1]] <<elseif $tactic2>>\ The hit itself is quick. If only the pain were as fast in disappearing. You make a gurgled sound as your head snaps back. It would’ve been less pathetic to cry. Your ears and head buzz with the clamming together of your teeth. Your eyes find the ceiling and the sunlight rays shimmer. First hard punch and maybe he knocked your brain real good. The hot pain is so encompassing that you can’t feel if he’s drawn blood yet. Your head feels like it’s gliding across the back of the seat. Dante grabs your chin and forces your head back down. Your eyes land on the big disgusting ring on his finger. You bet its imprint will be on your face by the end of this—if it’s not already. //He won’t break me//, a cold voice says in your head. It nearly startles you with its conviction. Dante grins and brings his arm back. He waits a moment, prolonging the suspense of your fear and his enjoyment. His ring is the last thing you see before an explosion blooms on your nose. You cry out as once more your head is thrown back. You felt a horrible snapping sound in between your eyes. But you can’t focus on a broken nose. //I’m going to get out of here.// You taste blood filling your mouth and tiredly spit it out somewhere. Although given the state of your mouth, it probably landed on your clothes. When Dante brings you to face him again, your eyes roll around and your head can’t stand still. You see the gems of his gold ring coated with flecks of your blood. It nearly makes you vomit. //Karma exists. Him and his crew can laugh now. I’ll get mine.// He doesn’t give you any respite before attacking your cheek. Then your gums dislodge a molar that rattles around your mouth for quite some time. But even you can only take so much. You find your mind slipping into unconsciousness as you hear Dante say, “Shit.” [[◎ Page 95|◎ Page 95-KIDNAP.26]] <<elseif $tactic3>>\ You don’t put up much of a fight when he punches you again. You bite your tongue so hard after the first hit that you pierce it. The taste of copper fills your mouth and you have to use all your will to not gag. Your neck aches with the force behind the punch that made it fall against the back of the chair. Your vision swims and if you weren’t tied down you would’ve crumbled underneath the pain. You weren’t exactly prepped to endure torture. Of course, what normal person would be? After 1962, you weren’t a rambunctious kid—at least physically—the only pains you ever suffered were emotional and those are easily waved away. But fuck, does physical pain really top the list of worst things you’ve gone through. Your mouth lets out a tiny gasp, one you hope Dante is too pumped to notice. “Fuck, that felt good!” he moves your head back with no grace at all, which is likely purposeful.<<set $Dante += 1>> He’s bent down, his arms crossed on your thighs. “Was it good for you too?” he wiggles his eyebrows, “I’m not that selfish.” You stare stonily at him, barely blinking even as the blood rushes to your head. Dante eyes squint mischievously at your lack of reaction. “Try harder, I barely felt it.” Licking his lips he prepares to strike you again. You have to ball your hands into fists to prevent yourself from screaming when his fist connects with your nose. The blood that rushes out of your nostrils, slipping into your mouth and down your chin. “Woof!” he exclaims. Through the haze of your pain you can see how excited he is. Dante looks seconds away from jumping up and down while clapping his hands. However, your face—as horrible as it is—remains as still as pond water. Dante stops his upbeat little dance when he sees you haven’t reacted at all. His head tilts all the way to the side, where it almost seems comical. He looks at his bruised knuckles, his bloodied ring and then at you. He seems entirely confused at what he has in front of him. He walks closer and you have to bite your teeth against your tongue to prevent yourself from shirking away from his closeness. He peers into your passive eyes. But he’s impatient and clearly isn’t cerebral so he does what he knows best and swings at your face again. But even you can only take so much. You find your mind slipping into unconsciousness as you hear Dante say, “Shit.” [[◎ Page 95|◎ Page 95-KIDNAP.26]] <<elseif $tactic4>>\ Or at least you wanted to pretend. The first real closed fist hit he gives you does hurt, it fucking kills. Your head is thrown back against the seat and your teeth clamp down painfully as your mouth starts bleeding. Your tongue moves instinctually towards a loose front tooth, wiggling it around as it craves to fall out of your gums. Your face is going to be so messed up after this. You’ll need dental surgery. Dante is an ass. All of this should make you angry and it does but… as you wiggle your tongue and catch the ring on Dante’s finger your eyes travel to his hand. Strong veiny hands. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You feel a twinge in the lower half of your stomach|◎ Page 94-PLUS][$painlove to true]] [[And you’re not ready for how much it hurts|◎ Page 94-PLUS]] <</if>>\ <<elseif $torture3>>\ <<if $tactic2>>\ The stinging, burning pain makes you spasm, pushing yourself away from it, causing the chair to topple and you hit the floor. But you hardly notice because your muscles contract painfully. Your body is rigid and your mind escapes you for a moment as you try to catch your breath. Dante walks over and puts each foot on either side of you. He laughs down at your fallen and tensed form with a hungry look in his eyes. //I can make it through this,// a quiet voice says in your head. Dante picks you up and immediately takes up the stun baton. He moves it along your body, not yet touching, but seemingly trying to pick a spot. His tongue is still out as he surveys the most tantalizing areas. He drifts down to your legs and a wicked smile spreads across his face as he jabs the baton to your knee. Your leg contracts and tries to kick but the ropes hold it back. Your arms strain against their bindings and your throat stiffens. It hurts so bad you can’t even let out a single sound. Your body is too locked up. //I just have to get through this single moment. I won’t die. I’m too important.// Your muscles don’t get any chances to calm down because Dante electrocutes your shoulders, legs, stomach, and hands. At times he plays around with stunning your face and he lunges, laughing each time you pull back. //He won’t kill me. He knows he can’t. He’ll let me sleep soon enough.// Your stomach muscles ache with how much strain is placed on them. Your skin is pink and dry from the shocks. The sun beats down ruthlessly on you. You could laugh at the notion that you ever thought you’ve suffered before this day. But even you can only take so much. You find your mind slipping into unconsciousness as you hear Dante say, “Shit.” [[◎ Page 95|◎ Page 95-KIDNAP.26]] <<elseif $tactic3>>\ You didn’t expect your muscles to contract like they do, nor the rest of your body to spasm around as if you’re being tickled, but what could you possibly know about being electrocuted? The singular advantage you have is that it’s so painful, you can’t make a sound since your throat freezes too. Dante lets the stun baton sizzle your skin for a good ten seconds before taking it off. You slump into the chair, which doesn’t relax you much because your binds are tight. Sweat runs down your face and you idly wonder if you could get a towel to wipe it off. Your brain feels almost lulled to sleep. Maybe it’s because most of your energy is being literally zapped away physically. Your brain is on survival mode or some shit. You never learned what prolonged torture does to someone in University. You find that Dante’s eyes are on your face. You don’t move a muscle, you try to swallow to wet your dry throat but that takes too much effort. He looks a bit confused at your nonchalance, so he quickly pokes you with the baton on the shoulder and makes you dance for him again. “Shit, that looks good. How ya feeling, Luce?” he asks with a shit-eating grin. You roll your dry, nearly closing eyes at him and offer no response. His smile slightly falls and you get a twinge of satisfaction at having confounded him. He doesn’t get to enjoy you as he has every other victim. That’s the best way to get back at Dante. Still, he tries. He does it without warning, shocking you on delicate points throughout your body, his eyes lightening with interest each time your body contracts and checking your face each time its over. But you give him nothing. You would think he would get angry and stun you right in the face to get you to cry but he just seems more motivated to make you scream. Maybe you made this a sort of sick game for him but you’re too tired to care. “You shock me like a bitch,” you murmur. That seems to delight him.<<set $Dante += 1>> But even you can only take so much. You find your mind slipping into unconsciousness as you hear Dante say, “Shit.” [[◎ Page 95|◎ Page 95-KIDNAP.26]] <<elseif $tactic4>>\ When the first shock hits your vulnerable stomach, it feels like someone is gripping your bones and squeezing. Your head is thrown back and your throat quivers with unheard screams, your toes curl and your eyes shut. You feel your chest push out and your nipples harden to a point; direct shots of pleasure hit your loins. You’ve never been so naive as to not know what anyone would call this if Dante were your lover instead of your torturer. What do the French call orgasms? Petite-mort? Aren’t you dying? If he stuns you enough you could. The fine line between ecstasy and death is finer than you knew. Your eyes are glazed as the next shock hits you right below your collarbone. Your chest pushes out again and you nearly fall back with the rigidity of your body. Dante holds onto your chair and you once again find your head tilted toward the ceiling. Something equal parts moan and gasp leaves your lips and if you weren’t so dazed you might’ve cared that Dante heard it. Oh, he heard it alright. He pulls your face back down, his hand not leaving your cheeks as he brings you closer and examines your expression. Your mouth has fallen open and small pants hit his own lips. He rolls a slow tongue along his bottom lip and your eyes latch onto the wetness left behind. He gives you a breathy laugh. “You’re more fucked than I thought you were, huh?” You swallow and your languid eyes follow him as he bends lower, bringing the baton to where your stomach and thigh meet. He looks up at you for a moment and you can barely manage to nod before he brings the electricity to your skin once more and your legs push up, your thighs hitting his chin. He rests his head against the tense bones, crushing the movement your legs are doing as you dance and dance and dance.<<set $Dante += 1>> But even you can only take so much. You find your mind slipping into unconsciousness as you hear Dante say, “Shit.” [[◎ Page 95|◎ Page 95-KIDNAP.26]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\

Dreams resulting from intense torture are a mix-match of real memories and fantastical scenarios. There’s a moment where you’re in front of your fourth grade English class doing a presentation about Macbeth but you’re 22, your uniform tight and uncomfortable against your overgrown limbs. <<audio "midnight" stop>>\ <<audio "loss" stop>>\ <<audio "confrontation" loop play>>\ Your sleep classmates, all age-appropriate, slowly blink as you go on. <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ You feel a sinking feeling in your stomach. Mr. Rosenthal stares at you expectantly. “Miss $surname, we’re waiting.” <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ You feel a sinking feeling in your stomach. Mr. Rosenthal stares at you expectantly. “Mr. $surname, we’re waiting.” <<else>>\ You feel a sinking feeling in your stomach. Mr. Rosenthal stares at you expectantly. “$surname, we’re waiting.” <</if>>\ You look down at the pages in your hand. Your 9 year old self’s writing isn’t that different from the swirling letters you write currently. “Uh… are the witches real or a manifestation of Macbeth’s personal demons? If you take it literally, they are as real, as Banquo sees them too. But I argue that the witches and Banquo are merely two sides of Macbeth. Banquo represents his guilt, fear and feelings of inadequacy while the witches represent his inner most base instincts. He is cruel, selfish, vain, obsessed with money and power. His two halves struggle for control and ultimately his worst impulses are his undoing.” You squint. “A bit advanced for fourth grade, Mr. Rosenthal,” you comment. He raises an eyebrow. That action stuns you for a moment in its familiarity. You sigh and keep going, rubbing a sweaty hand on your thigh. “Could anything have stopped his descent? The recognition he so craved from the king? The love of his wife? Or was he condemned to always follow this path due to the entrenched flaws within his being? Could someone like this truly be loved?” [[◎ Page 96|◎ Page 96-KIDNAP.27]]

<<if $cisf or $transf>>\ Mr. Rosenthal interjects, “Thank you.” He looks toward the class, “Can Luce be loved as she is? Would you love someone like that?” <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ Mr. Rosenthal interjects, “Thank you.” He looks toward the class, “Can Luce be loved as he is? Would you love someone like that?” <<else>>\ Mr. Rosenthal interjects, “Thank you.” He looks toward the class, “Can Luce be loved as they are? Would you love someone like that?” <</if>>\ A kid raises his hand. “Yes, Mr. Greco?” <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ He lowers his bloody hand. “Nope. I think we should cut her head off.” Your eyes widen. Mr. Rosenthal nods, “Thank you for your input. Anyone else?” The girl sitting next to him speaks, “Fundamentally unlovable. Literally, what about Luce can be loved? We hear about her worst traits but not a single instance of anything good. Someone like that,” she leans forward, “Contributes nothing and, like, I’m surprised we’re even having this conversation.” <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ He lowers his bloody hand. “Nope. I think we should cut his head off.” Your eyes widen. Mr. Rosenthal nods, “Thank you for your input. Anyone else?” The girl sitting next to him speaks, “Fundamentally unlovable. Literally, what about Luce can be loved? We hear about his worst traits but not a single instance of anything good. Someone like that,” she leans forward, “Contributes nothing and, like, I’m surprised we’re even having this conversation.” <<else>>\ He lowers his bloody hand. “Nope. I think we should cut their head off.” Your eyes widen. Mr. Rosenthal nods, “Thank you for your input. Anyone else?” The girl sitting next to him speaks, “Fundamentally unlovable. Literally, what about Luce can be loved? We hear about their worst traits but not a single instance of anything good. Someone like that,” she leans forward, “Contributes nothing and, like, I’m surprised we’re even having this conversation.” <</if>>\ You see the glint of malice in her eyes and grit through your teeth, “Carmen you’re such a—” “Luce, what do you think?” Mr. Rosenthal asks. You scoff, “This is ridiculous.” “You should listen to you big brother,” he replies. Your sneer freezes. You look from his head to his chin. You blink several times, your wet hands plastering the pages onto your fingers. You look at the name plate on his desk, //A. Rosenthal.// [[◎ Page 97|◎ Page 97-KIDNAP.28]]

His smile is big, boyish and he lowers his glasses, “Would you love you, Luce?” You throat contracts. You feel like he’s gotten taller. He tilts his head in just the way you remember, “After everything you’ve done? The way you treat people… have you ever been a good anything? A good $luce.childTerm? A good friend? A good fiancée? A good person?” Your mouth opens and closes, words lodged in your mouth tasting like sandpaper. The entire class silently watches the exchange, unmoving. He raises his eyebrows, “A good $luce.siblingTerm?” his 12 year old voice says. Your body trembles and the sweat runs down your arms. He stands up, towering over you. He stands in front of you and kneels, meeting you at eye-level. He reaches out and gently touches your chin. You almost flinch at the iciness of his skin. Revulsion climbs up your inflamed throat. He smiles sweetly at you, his two missing front teeth creating a grotesque imitation of his true smile. “I didn’t want to go to the park that day, did I? I went because of you. You knew I could never deny you anything and you used that to get me killed.” You try to shake your head but his icy fingers dig into your skin. “Don’t lie, Luce. I thought you would’ve learned better. I thought in all these years you would’ve grown up. But you’re still that same bratty kid who doesn’t think and expects everyone else to bend to $luce.possAdj will.” You feel your eyes prickle. “How many more have to die instead of you?” “About 50 more, you reckon, Luce?” A small voice you belonging to someone you don’t want to see says from the rows of students. “But you’re an overachiever right?” Marcey’s high-pitched voice says from somewhere. <<if $lucePronounSet is "she">>\ Your brother still holds that friendly smile, “$luce.subjCap $luce.be. No one can kill someone without pulling the trigger quite like Luce. A real talent, right, Sis?” <<elseif $lucePronounSet is "he">>\ Your brother still holds that friendly smile, “$luce.subjCap $luce.be. No one can kill someone without pulling the trigger quite like Luce. A real talent, right, Bro?” <<elseif $lucePronounSet is "they">>\ Your brother still holds that friendly smile, “$luce.subjCap $luce.be. No one can kill someone without pulling the trigger quite like Luce. A real talent, right, Sib?” <</if>>\ He leans in closer and presses his forehead against yours, “So, what do you think? Can you be loved?” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“I am loved.”|◎ Page 98-KIDNAP.29][$an1 to true]] [[“No.”|◎ Page 98-KIDNAP.29][$an2 to true]] [[“I can’t. But I want to be.”|◎ Page 98-KIDNAP.29][$an3 to true]] [[“Let go of me. Now.”|◎ Page 98-KIDNAP.29][$an4 to true]]

<<if $an1>>\ You say it with conviction. But your brother smiles amusedly. <<elseif $an2>>\ It feels like a thorn in your side to say that. Your brother’s eyes look sad. <<elseif $an3>>\ Oh, how you want to be. Andrea just shakes his head. <<elseif $an4>>\ “This isn’t real anyway!” you yell at your brother. “You’re dead! And you’ve been dead for a very long time!” Andrea doesn’t respond to your outburst. “You’re not going to haunt me!” you say angrily. <</if>> [[◎ Page 99|◎ Page 99-KIDNAP.30]]

<h2>//__''1975''__//</h2>\ You smell a sharp medicinal odor and your body throbs with the slight motion you make as you awake. You groan weakly, your head feeling far too heavy for your throat. Your mouth tastes of stale blood and it makes your stomach curdle. <<audio "confrontation" stop>>\ <<audio "carmen" loop play>>\ The room is darker than before, nearly invisible were it not for a tall lamp—that wasn’t there before—in the corner. Your eyesight wavers in and out; you feel as if the seat beneath you is moments from toppling over. Your new wounds sting so painfully you want to finally let out the tears that have been aching for release all day. You feel something’s changed and you look down to see that your hands are in front of you. A new rope ties you to the chair by the shoulders and your hands are bound on your lap. You’re pitiful. Where’s the grand Luce now? Your eyes prickle, tears threatening to fall down your eyes. Your throat feels so small and your body barely has energy to move. “Salty tears are not a good look, babes,” a low smoky voice interrupts your moment of wallowing. You lift your eyes up and see a figure in the corner. The light from the lamp reflects off her gold shimmering dress—a frankly sluttily short dress. A pale creamy thigh peeks out from between the folds of her fur coat and a long shapely leg is adorned with gold-heeled boots. She brings her lighter to her cigarette, illuminating glossy pink lips and glittery sharp nails. Her incredibly big wavy hair frames her pale face. [[◎ Page 100|◎ Page 100-KIDNAP.31]]

She moves away from the corner, slowly, letting one leg step in front of the other as her hips sway. She brings her hand, the one with the cigarette, to your face and grabs your jaw, forcing your face up, reminiscent of her brother. The smoke gets into your eyes which does make your tears fall. She moves your face this way and that, examining it with a critical eye. “What the fuck Carmen, your cigarette is getting into my face,” you protest shaking her head off. “Do you want a puff? Probably not the best choice in your condition but it can’t get any worse, can it?” She asks rhetorically, a pleased tone to her words. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Take a puff|◎ Page 101-KIDNAP.32]] [[Decline|◎ Page 101-KIDNAP.32][$carmen1 to true]]

<<if $carmen1>>\ You shake your head and she rolls her eyes at you. <<else>>\ You move closer and take a long inhale. The smoke irritates your swollen lips, parched mouth and itchy throat but it feels good to have something in your mouth that isn’t Dante’s hand. You cough a bit as you move away. <<set $smoking to true>>\ <</if>>\ Her sharp perfume awakes your nostrils. So that’s what you thought smelled like medicine. She eyes your face again and then sweeps her penetrating gaze along your body. Even though it’s stupid, you feel ashamed. You and Carmen had an unspoken competition between the two of you throughout every single birthday party, graduation, holiday. You dressed to not only impress but one-up each other. Obviously, you always won, even if she couldn’t admit defeat. <<if $cisf or $transm>>\ If she wore an original Dior 1952 blue ball gown dress, you had to show up with a 1938 Vionnet evening dress. <<elseif $cism or $transf>>\ If she wore an original Dior 1952 blue ball gown dress, you had to show up with a 1961 Balenciaga gold and white suit. <<else>>\ If she wore an original Dior 1952 blue ball gown dress, you had to show up with a 1937 Chanel striped pantsuit. <</if>>\ You two never came to blows over it, neither insults—you would circle each other like predators about to strike before giving each other tense smiles and a word or two of compliments although Carmen was better at applying the right amount of backhandedness to her remarks, she was after all, older than you. //That’s such a cute outfit, it must’ve been a steal.// //If only I could look like that, unfortunately my father likes me to dress in something flattering.// //That’s certainly colorful.// You blink tiredly, “Is it so bad that you’re staring?” [[◎ Page 102|◎ Page 102-KIDNAP.33]]

She takes a slow drag of her cigarette, brown eyes unflinchingly staring at you through the smoke. You think she’s enough of a cunt to blow it in your face but she blows to the side instead. “I don’t want to kick a dog when they’re down but you’ve looked worse, babe,” she puts her cigarette on the small golden snake ring she always wears. It has a smaller holder that snugly fits her vice. <<if $weirdd>>\ She leans forward all of a sudden and you startle. She ignores that and tries to close your ripped clothes over your chest. She fetches a clothespin from who know’s where and kind of saves your modesty. You refuse to thank her for that. Especially when she said something far more important. “When have I looked worse?” <<else>>\ You quirk an eyebrow in irritation, “Like?” <</if>>\ She smirks and doesn’t hide her disdain as she sweeps along the state in which you find yourself. “Your 18th birthday party.” “Bullshit! I looked amazing! You’re just fucking jealous no one but your dad’s creepy friends paid you any attention,” you retort. She rolls her eyes and says, “Marcelo?” The door opens and a cat comes in with a chair, a white bottle, a water bottle and a rag. He doesn’t say anything, just preps everything for her before slipping out. Carmen sits down in front of you, crossing one of her legs over the other. You look outside the window, the orange sunset is still a long glowing sliver along the horizon. It would be beautiful if you had ever cared for something like that. //Why didn’t I?// You had seen hundreds of sunsets due to your debauched ways and yet, you never realized how gorgeous it was. You never cared. You never stopped. “He really did a number on you, didn’t he?” Carmen asks, a small smile to her lips. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“Your psycho brother?”|◎ Page 103-KIDNAP.34][$ca1 to true]] [[“He almost killed me.”|◎ Page 103-KIDNAP.34][$ca2 to true]] [[“And you won’t do worse?”|◎ Page 103-KIDNAP.34][$ca3 to true]] [[Bite your tongue.|◎ Page 103-KIDNAP.34][$ca4 to true]]

<<if $ca1>>\ “Yeah, the little bastard didn’t exactly treat me to a 5-course meal and a massage,” you retort. “Oh, you wouldn’t want one of his massages,” she responds. “Unlike my hands,” she lifts her palms up, “He doesn’t moisturize.” “You’re not funny,” you snap. <<elseif $ca2>>\ “D minus in torture. A plus in being a piece of sun-baked shit,” you scowl. “Hey,” she snaps her fingers in front of your face, “Watch how you speak about him.” “OR WHAT?!” you scream, at your wits end with these two. Her eyebrows raise at your outburst. <<elseif $ca3>>\ “You come in here, pretending to be more level-headed, pretending you’re trying to help me, but you’re no better than him. At least with Dante I know what I’m getting,” you claim. “You’re not the first person who has preferred him to me,” she says. “Did you get hot off his torture that much?” she wrinkles her nose. “Oh, fuck you,” you reply. <<elseif $ca4>>\ But your eyes don’t deceive her. You’re shimmering with barely restrained rage. <</if>>\ <<audio "carmen" stop>>\ <<audio "lull" loop play>>\ She seems amused more than annoyed at your anger. “If it weren’t for me, Dante would’ve gone overboard as he always does and you would truly be dead. I know it’s stupid to think you should thank me, but don’t be a cunt either. I can be a friend—no, I can be an ally, to you here.” You taste the blood in your mouth and feel like spitting it into her smug face. She has the audacity to look at you as if she’s doing you a favor. You don’t respond and she just quirks her eyebrows and uncaps the water bottle, she brings it to your lips. You move back, rolling your lips. Carmen snorts and then takes a sip. You desperately want to flush the blood out of your mouth and you haven’t drank anything all day so you greedily gulp down water, letting it fall from the sides of your mouth and stain your chest. The water reignites your injuries anew and you hiss, moving away from the liquid. Carmen sets the water bottle down and takes up the white bottle and rag. She throws the cap somewhere behind her and the cutting smell of alcohol wafts over to you. “What are you doing?” you ask, suspiciously. “Do you usually ask stupid questions or is it the blood loss?” she inquires as she coats the rag. She brings it over and you flinch as it touches your swollen lip—something you didn’t know was injured this badly until the alcohol burns it so mercilessly that you whimper. Carmen’s eyes flicker with satisfaction as she watches your squirm, yet she still waits until you’ve composed yourself enough to continue. Although this time she gently dabs at your lips, backing off each time you hiss. Her immaculate eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she lightly cleans the raw skin of your collarbone. You watch her because you have nothing better to do. You note that she could hurt you further, pressing the rag in harder against the cuts her brother made but she swipes softly, graciously even. When she sees the bullet wound on your thigh she huffs. “Why do I let anyone do anything here?” she whispers to herself. “MARCELO!” [[◎ Page 104|◎ Page 104-KIDNAP.35]]

The man comes in and she orders him away to get fresh bandages. When he closes the door she turns to you and leans back, her eyes never leaving yours. The bold glittery eyeshadow she wears makes her eyes take on this glazed quality. Or maybe she’s just tired, God knows you are. “It’s Andy’s birthday soon, right?” she asks. You still. “How do you know that?” She brings her thumb to her lips and bites on the nail. “We were almost the same age and he was my friend.” You scoff, “Sure he was.” Carmen bristles at that, “The most annoying thing about you is how much of a know-it-all you think you are. But honestly, Luce, you’re the most scared clueless person I think I know.” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“I’m not scared of anything.” [Spoiled]|◎ Page 105-KIDNAP.36][$c1 to true]] [[“Yeah because it’s normal to watch people get killed.” [Grounded]|◎ Page 105-KIDNAP.36][$c2 to true]] [[“Given that I fraternize with criminals…” [Grounded]|◎ Page 105-KIDNAP.36][$c3 to true]] [[You roll your eyes [Spoiled]|◎ Page 105-KIDNAP.36][$c4 to true]]

<<if $c1>>\ She looks at you with a snobbish expression. “I’m not,” you insist. “If you say so.” <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded - 0.2, 0, 100)>>\ <<elseif $c2>>\ “You two were raised to behead puppies when you were 7. I’m actually a normal person,” you reply. Carmen raises an eyebrow. “Of course.” <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded + 0.2, 0, 100)>>\ <<elseif $c3>>\ “…it would be pretty fucking stupid of me if I wasn’t scared shitless. I have an ego, I’m not a dumbass.” She smiles.<<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded + 0.2, 0, 100)>>\ <<elseif $c4>>\ She scoffs at your audacity to do that while in the position you are in. Never stopped you before.<<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded - 0.2, 0, 100)>>\ <</if>> Carmen takes her nail out of her mouth, “Maybe Andy would’ve grown up to be a spoiled cunt like you but as far as I remember him, he was the kid who would get his ass beat just to defend yours. I don’t know why, you clearly never deserved it.” You groan, “Why do you care about me and Andrea?” “Jealous that I actually have a brother who loved me unlike you?” you say, a smile spreading across your lips. It stings to stretch them but this is worth it. Carmen throws her old cigarette off her ring and takes another out of her bra. As she lights up she says, “You think that’s love? Dante would burn the world for me.” You raise your eyebrows mockingly. <<if $lazloIncest>>\ She blows the smoke in your face, making you cough and your eyes water once more. Her eyebrows lower angrily, “Don’t believe me? Maybe because you’ve spent your life ignoring Andy and treating Lazlo like he’s Andrea’s replacement, knowing full well that he’s in love with you. My brother is a lot of things but he is the only man—the only person who would die for me. I have that. I have someone who loves me unconditionally.” You feel your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. Lazlo is not in love with you. That’s… your mind latches onto that a bit too hard for a second and you have to pry it off. <<else>>\ She blows the smoke in your face, making you cough and your eyes water once more. Her eyebrows lower angrily, “Don’t believe me? Maybe because you’ve spent your life ignoring Andy and treating Lazlo like he’s a piece of furniture. My brother is a lot of things but he is the only man—the only person who would die for me. I have that. I have someone who loves me unconditionally.” <</if>>\ You look away, not wishing to entertain whatever bullshit she’s spouting. Is this a new form of torture? “You think you’re so much better than us, don’t you? Because you went to a prestigious school, were going to get married and had a father who doted on you. But none of it is real and you have to live with that and you fucking hate it. That’s what all the parties are for, to pretend your life isn’t just shiny shit on top of more shit,” she says with an air of her perceived wisdom. Your jaw tightens. You can only see your silhouette in the window. The sky has completely darkened. “Nothing you want to say?” she asks mockingly. You feel your pride wounded and your biggest flaw is that you have trouble knowing when to shut up. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“You and your stupid brother can die in a ditch.”|◎ Page 106-KIDNAP.37][$cm1 to true]] [[“If someone like Dante loved me I would kill myself.”|◎ Page 106-KIDNAP.37][$cm2 to true]] [[“Does your Daddy love you?” [Bitchy]|◎ Page 106-KIDNAP.37][$cm3 to true]] [[“I’d rather save my breath.” [Beign]|◎ Page 106-KIDNAP.37][$cm4 to true]]

<<if $cm1>>\ “And trust me, by the time the day is over tomorrow, that’s where you’ll be,” you threaten. “What did you call my brother?” she asks, a steely edge to her voice. Before you can react, she lurches forward and stubs the cigarette against your shoulder. The burn is instantaneous. You throw your head back and scream louder than you thought possible. She keeps it there until her cigarette is completely burned out against your raw and smoking skin. You let out strangled gasps as she throws her cigarette behind her. She doesn’t react at all, her attention focused on lighting another cigarette. Once she does, Marcelo comes back with the bandages. Your whole face follows her movements, your eyesight blinded by sheer rage. <<elseif $cm2>>\ You expect her to be offended. To rush forward and hurt you like he did when you insulted her but instead she chuckles. She takes a small drag of her cigarette. “You think by being snarky, that you aren’t as obvious as a deflowered virgin, I gotta tell you, everyone can smell the stench of sex.” You laugh incredulously, “You think I’m jealous of you and your brother?” She smiles cruelly, “Why wouldn’t you be? My brother is still alive so that he can love me. Yours is being eaten by worms in the ground and you’ll never know if he could love you as you are now.” You look away as if unbothered by her words. She sighs, “Boring.” She slowly drags on her cigarette and you let the minutes tick by. Marcelo eventually comes back with the bandages. A prickle of annoyance sputters in your chest. <<elseif $cm3>>\ Her glib expression falls. You laugh coldly. “Of course he does. I mean, that’s why he made Dante heir over you. That’s why he slaps you around in public for being a whore. That’s why an incompetent, violent man, who doesn’t have half your brains, will always be welcomed into the Boys’ club over you.” <<set $Bitchy += 1>> Carmen nose flares and her nails dig into her seat. Your smile is sharp and vicious. “Hurts, doesn’t it? Having a pussy when you wish you had a cock just so you could be loved by mommy and daddy.” Before you can react, she lurches forward and stubs the cigarette against your shoulder. The burn is instantaneous. You throw your head back and scream louder than you thought possible. She keeps it there until her cigarette is completely burned out against your raw and smoking skin. You let out strangled gasps as she throws her cigarette behind her. She doesn’t react at all, her attentions focused on lighting another cigarette. Once she does, Marcelo comes back with the bandages. Your whole face follows her movements, your eyesight blinded by sheer rage. <<elseif $cm4>>\ You calm your inner fury and smooth your face into a neutral expression. It’s a diplomatic answer. But, those aren’t allowed here. She sighs, “Boring.” But, she doesn’t look away; maybe she expects you’ll snap. She slowly drags on her cigarette and you let the minutes tick by. Marcelo eventually comes back with the bandages. <<set $Beign += 1>> A prickle of annoyance sputters in your chest. <</if>> At least Dante doesn’t pretend to be nice by bandaging you up. She sits back down and without much preamble she rips off the old bandage and you dig your teeth into your tongue from screaming. “Fuck,” you gasp. Carmen smiles as she throws the rubbing alcohol on your open wound. Your body slams back against the chair and you topple backwards. Your head hits the floor and your vision swims from a mix of the fall and the unbearable pain. Carmen crouches down next to you and starts applying the bandages, her cigarette dangling out of her mouth and a hum in her throat. [[◎ Page 107|◎ Page 107-KIDNAP.38]]

“Where’s the folder, Luce?” she asks. “This could’ve gone much easier if you hadn’t looked at me like I’m the shit on your shoe. But trust me, this isn’t the worst I can do. I don’t want you to die. It serves no purpose but a stupid vendetta of my Dad’s. However, Dante will want to continue playing with you until you go crazy or die. If you don’t help me, I can’t help you.” She says this matter-of-a-factly, either too focused on fixing you up or treating this as a mild inconvenience. Likely the latter, she has never given a shit about you. “I already told—” “Yes, I know. You apparently don’t have it. I thought you were saying that because Dante isn’t the person you want to confess your sins to. He thinks you’re lying,” she states and stands up. Her heels are near your face. Her long legs disappear into her dress and you realize that if you wanted to you could see her underwear. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You want to|◎ Page 108-KIDNAP.39][$cn1 to true]] [[Ugh, no thanks|◎ Page 108-KIDNAP.39]]

<<if $cn1>>\ Ok, you’ve been kidnapped, been tortured and are busted up but you’re thinking about ogling Carmen? //Where are my priorities?// You think as you inch your head closer to her legs. Carmen seems to sense this because a sly smile appears on her face. She widens her legs, her dress pressing against her thighs and her soft upper thighs come into view. You see hot pink panties fitted snugly against her. You gulp as you see the ridges of her pussy. <<else>>\ She’s not your type and right now it really isn’t the time. Even you can be prudent. You look away. <</if>>\ “So, you really don’t have it?” she asks. You exhale loudly. Carmen steps away. “You’re royally fucked,” she says with a laugh and opens the door. “Far out,” you reply drily. You hear another set of footsteps come and you’re propped up again, Dante’s cologne assaulting your senses. You cough as he stands next to his sister, both of them looking at you. For two people utterly different in appearance, they couldn’t be mistaken for anything but siblings. They have similar gestures. Although Dante has his hands clasped in front of him and Carmen has a hand on her hip and another in the air with her cigarette—there’s a level of arrogance to it that can only belong to a Greco. “Have fun with $luce.obj, Carmen?” he asks playfully. She blows out a stream of smoke. “Not nearly enough as you had. That should serve as a reminder, dear brother,” she elbows him gently in the ribs. Dante looks at her with an exaggerated pout, “Can I do the carving at least?” Carmen side-eyes him, her face blank. Dante juts out his lower lip even further and makes puppy dog noises. A slight quirk to her cheek and she replies, “Ok, but don’t go too deep.” Dante claps like a child and takes out his knife. You tense and try to push yourself away from him as he slowly walks over to you, shaking the knife with a maniac smile meant for you. [[◎ Page 109|◎ Page 109-KIDNAP.40]]

Your struggles are of no use. He clamps his large hand down on your arm and brings the knife down to your skin. Dragging it across deep enough to where blood starts spilling from your open skin but shallow enough so as not to create too much of a big wound. <<audio "lull" fadeout>>\ You’re so tired of screaming. Carmen watches on with mild interest. Your pain doesn’t matter to these people. To Dante, you’re his own personal pet that he can torture for sport. To Carmen, all of this is business. You haven’t felt this powerless in years. Unable to stop Dante from carving into your skin. To debase you in this way. This is what everyone else has felt and you’ve learned how it feels the hard way. Dante makes a sound of childlike delight and holds up his handiwork for his sister to see. A jagged D mares your once perfect skin. Your head hangs down, staring at your legs as if they had the relief you need. “Like I didn’t have enough to remember you by,” you quip bitterly. Dante drops your arm and yawns, “Not like you’re going to have a lot of time left to remember me or anyone.” Your head shoots up and you frantically bounce your attention from Carmen to Dante. You look at their faces to see any trace of cruel sarcasm. Carmen smiles slowly while her brother bites his lips. “What are you talking about?” you ask desperately. Dante shrugs and starts backing away. Carmen follows him, waving you off. “Sweet dreams, Luce.” “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!” you scream after them. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“I’m going to fucking kill you!”|◎ Page 110-KIDNAP.41][$g1 to true]] [[“I’ll take you with me!”|◎ Page 110-KIDNAP.41][$g2 to true]] [[“Answer me, cowards!”|◎ Page 110-KIDNAP.41][$g3 to true]] [[Further words die on your lips|◎ Page 110-KIDNAP.41][$g4 to true]]

<<if $g1>>\ “ALL OF YOU! I SWEAR TO GOD!” you scream, every word feels as if it were a vow.<<set $Dante += 1>> <<elseif $g2>>\ “IF I CAN’T WIN THEN YOU CAN’T EITHER!” you growl. <<elseif $g3>>\ “YOU THINK YOU HAVE BALLS JUST BECAUSE YOU TORTURED SOMEONE TIED UP? I HAVE MORE BALLS IN MY LEFT TOENAIL!” you snarl.<<set $Dante += 1>> <<elseif $g4>>\ A wave of nausea hits you and you lay back in your chair until it dissipates. <</if>>\ The door closes behind Carmen. The sound is deafening. The emptiness of the room feels deliberately torturing. Your breathing quickens and you start trying to break your ropes by sheer strength alone. You press your feet against the floor, strain forward; your skin digs into the ropes. The ropes cut into your skin. But you keep pushing because you’re not dying in this place. You’re dying when you’re 95, on a soft bed, surrounded by your opulent things. Everyone who you love with you. You’ve done so much yet you feel as if you haven’t lived. You can’t. The tears fall easily down your worn face. The small little convulses begin with your stomach. Your binds don’t let you break down completely, the rope pressing your chest too tightly to let out the fear. You look out the window at the faint stars above. You can’t see the moon itself but you can see the rays on the sandy beach. It looks haunting and surreal. Another thing you never noticed. It’s not fair that you only notice these things when it feels like you’ll never see them again. Your nose is congested and your voice is shaky as you say, “I don’t know if God exists. I don’t know if anyone who cares about me is listening. Probably not. But I’m going to ask anyway. Get me out of this. I can’t die yet. I promise that if I survive…” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“I’ll tell my parents I love them more.”|◎ Page 111-KIDNAP.42][$pr1 to true]] [[“I’ll apologize to the people I’ve hurt.”|◎ Page 111-KIDNAP.42][$pr2 to true]] [[“I’ll spend more time with Bee.”|◎ Page 111-KIDNAP.42][$pr3 to true]] [[“I’ll party like there’s no tomorrow.”|◎ Page 111-KIDNAP.42][$pr4 to true]]

<<if $pr1>>\ Every day if necessary. You’ve spent so many years taking advantage of their love. Of the void your brother left. You should’ve been more loving after his… and you weren’t. Why? <<elseif $pr2>>\ Lazlo, every servant that has ever worked for your family, your old friends, cousins, even your parents. You believed that as long as you were right, it didn’t make you cruel. But you can’t deny you delighted in deflating egos when yours is the biggest one of all. <<elseif $pr3>>\ <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ She’s at that age where she needs a big sister to help her. And what did you do? Put an ocean between you. She’s probably lonely. You haven’t even done the bare minimum of calling her. Andrea was so good at this. <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ She’s at that age where she needs a big brother to help her. And what did you do? Put an ocean between you. She’s probably lonely. You haven’t even done the bare minimum of calling her. Andrea was so good at this. <<elseif $nbf or $nbm>>\ She’s at that age where she needs a big sibling to help her. And what did you do? Put an ocean between you. She’s probably lonely. You haven’t even done the bare minimum of calling her. Andrea was so good at this. <</if>>\ <<elseif $pr4>>\ When you get out of here, you’re going on a week-long bender. You won’t sleep, hardly eat and party your way along the continents. It’ll be a bash to remember. Or, if it’s successful, you’ll be too drunk to remember. <</if>>\ “I promise,” you say. Your voice softens and your eyes slowly blink through the haze of sleep. But the torture zapped all your energy and try as you might, you can’t keep your eyes open. You feel your body shutting down before you brain does. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ You look at your hand, in all the commotion you didn’t realize you weren’t wearing your engagement ring. You don’t remember taking it off. Did Dante take it? You can’t remember anything before you passed out the first time. It doesn’t matter anymore, yet you can’t help but wonder where it is. It was a understated in its elegance, a gold band with a well-sized diamond. Filthy in its material cost. Just how you liked it. <<else>>\ For the first time today your brain is too tried to fight against the unpleasantness of last night. What Sam did to you. Bitch took the ring, it cost you 3K. For that amount of money you could’ve gotten a car. <</if>>\ <<if $lovesam>>\ “Sam,” you whisper. How didn’t you see it? How were you so stupid? You remember all the times you would catch Sam staring at you with love—what looked like love. No one can be that good of an actor. Sam, who spent playing nurse for you that time you broke your arm. Sam, who rented out a whole restaurant for your birthday last year <<else>>\ Sam, who memorized everything you liked and disliked about food. Sam, who was the only one around you to remember Andrea and seek to comfort you, although you wouldn't take it. <</if>>\ <<if $cheatluce>>\ You think of how you treated $samP.obj. How you missed $samP.possAdj birthday because you had forgotten and booked a trip to Hawaii. When you thought $samP.obj was being sarcastic about becoming a writer. The cheating with everything that moved. <<else>>\ You think of how you treated $samP.obj. How you missed $samP.possAdj birthday because you had forgotten and booked a trip to Hawaii. When you thought $samP.obj was being sarcastic about becoming a writer. Inviting the person who crashed $samP.possAdj car. <</if>>\ <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Sam exaggerated|◎ Page 112-KIDNAP.43][$SAM to true]] [[Ok… maybe you were a bad partner|◎ Page 112-KIDNAP.43][$SAM2 to true]] [[Regardless, you didn’t deserve this|◎ Page 112-KIDNAP.43][$SAM3 to true]]

<<if $SAM>>\ <<if $sam is "fem">>\ So what if you didn’t listen when she talked? So what if you kept forgetting her name for like six months? So what if you called her a boring bitch? So what if you lost her grandmother’s ashes by smoking them or throwing them in the trash? You told her to take care of her shit. You aren’t perfect. Sam could’ve left if she was suffering so much. <<if $faithsam>>\ You could’ve cheated on her. You had ample opportunity to. But you never did. You’re actually a great fucking partner. The best she could’ve asked for and what did she do? Nag. Like all women. Always buggin’ about something. Luce this and Luce that. Maybe you should’ve cheated on her to give her a real reason to be angry. But you didn’t because you were a good and thoughtful boyfriend. Clearly you deserved better and you wear your badge of offended party with honor. <<else>>\ Ok, yeah, you did cheat on her. But it’s never really your fault. How are you supposed to control yourself when so many people want to sleep with you? How can you deprive them of yourself? It would cruel of you and selfish of Samantha to want that. It’s not like you ever had other girlfriends. Other people would’ve left her ass but you STAYED. You’re never getting engaged to another woman again if this is how the supposedly fairer gender reacts. <</if>>\ <<elseif $sam is "masc">>\ So what if you didn’t listen when he talked? So what if you kept forgetting his name for like six months? So what if you called him a boring idiot? So what if you lost his grandmother’s ashes by smoking them or throwing them in the trash? You told him to take care of his shit. You aren’t perfect. Sam could’ve left if he was suffering so much. <<if $faithsam>>\ You could’ve cheated on him. You had ample opportunity to. But you never did. You’re actually a great fucking partner. The best he could’ve asked for and what did he do? Nag. Always buggin’ about something. Luce this and Luce that. Maybe you should’ve cheated on him to give him a real reason to be angry. But you didn’t because you were a good and thoughtful girlfriend. Clearly you deserved better and you wear your badge of offended party with honor. <<else>>\ Ok, yeah, you did cheat on him. But it’s never really your fault. How are you supposed to control yourself when so many people want to sleep with you? How can you deprive them of yourself? It would cruel of you and selfish of Samuel to want that. It’s not like you ever had other boyfriends. Other people would’ve left his ass but you STAYED. This is why men deserve to be treated like dirt. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ All couples have problems. You don’t stew. You don’t become a two-faced shit-head. <<elseif $SAM2>>\ You could’ve been better. You could’ve tried more. You hardly gave the bare minimum while Sam bent over backwards to please you. You never even said a single ‘thank you.’ One of a kind piece of shit partner alright. Sam gave everything to someone who was half way out of the relationship. You don’t know why you’re like this. <<if $lovesam>>\ You loved Sam. The first person to ever make you feel those butterflies that the movies talk about and yet it wasn’t enough for you to stop being... you. Sam wasted four years with you, you took away those years where Sam could’ve been with someone who acted better. <<else>>\ It was never love. But only when Sam betrayed you can you finally see how awful you treated your partner. It took being kidnapped and tortured for you to actually think about how someone else could feel. It was always you, you and you. <</if>>\ <<elseif $SAM3>>\ <<if $sam is "fem">>\ You aren’t happy? You talk it out. Hell, Sam could’ve even slapped some sense into you. You would’ve probably tried to kill her for that but anything was better than this. You don’t give up your future spouse to a bunch of gun-toting, coke-snorting gangsters. A fucking messy breakup with a drink going into someone’s face would’ve sufficed. Why are women like this? You’re not that much of a sexist but maybe they are hysterical. You agree with women’s liberation, some of it at least. But Sam doesn’t deserve rights after what she did to you. Bitch. <<elseif $sam is "masc">>\ You aren’t happy? You talk it out. Hell, Sam could’ve even slapped some sense into you. You would’ve probably tried to kill him for that but anything was better than this. You don’t give up your future spouse to a bunch of gun-toting, coke-snorting gangsters. A fucking messy breakup with a drink going into someone’s face would’ve sufficed. This is why men aren’t worth shit. Especially men as dramatic as women. Sam was a pussy for that. He could’ve told you his problem to your face. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ You close your eyes. All of it laid out and you still didn’t see it coming. <<if $sam is "fem">>\ Everyone wanted you and everyone wanted to be you. You had no shortage of people ready to take Sam’s place at a moment’s notice and you lorded that over her, made sure she knew that you didn’t need her as much as she needed you. You snort as you hear Marcey’s voice in your head: //that’s a defense mechanism, Luz. If you don’t need anyone too much, it won’t hurt when they leave.// <<elseif $sam is "masc">>\ Everyone wanted you and everyone wanted to be you. You had no shortage of people ready to take Sam’s place at a moment’s notice and you lorded that over him, made sure he knew that you didn’t need him as much as he needed you. You snort as you hear Marcey’s voice in your head: //that’s a defense mechanism, Luz. If you don’t need anyone too much, it won’t hurt when they leave.// <</if>>\ <<if $lovesam>>\ But you loved Sam and this fucking hurts. You feel your overworked eyes prickle but no tears fall. Maybe later. <<else>>\ Although you didn’t love your partner, you spent four years of your life with Sam and it bothers you how this is how it ended. <</if>>\ Sam bested you, played you for a fool and that needles your pride. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You’re going to get your revenge one day [Ruthless]|◎ Page 113-KIDNAP.44][$samt to true]] [[You never want to see Sam’s face ever again [Merciful]|◎ Page 113-KIDNAP.44][$samt2 to true]]

<<if $samt>>\ <<set $Merciful = Math.clamp($Merciful - 0.2, 0, 100)>>\ <<if $sam is "fem">>\ It doesn’t matter how long it takes. Wherever in the world Sam is. You will make her pay with her life. An eye for an eye. <<elseif $sam is "masc">>\ It doesn’t matter how long it takes. Wherever in the world Sam is. You will make him pay with his life. An eye for an eye. <</if>>\ <<elseif $samt2>>\ <<set $Merciful = Math.clamp($Merciful + 0.2, 0, 100)>> <<if $sam is "fem">>\ That’s the better punishment, to move on. To get out of this and know that Sam will be pissing herself just at the thought that you could come after her. You don’t even have to lift a finger. <<elseif $sam is "masc">>\ That’s the better punishment, to move on. To get out of this and know that Sam will be pissing himself just at the thought that you could come after him. You don’t even have to lift a finger. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ Your neck aches and you lean your head back. As you look at the unimpressive white ceiling, you think about tomorrow. It won’t be your last day. You feel your resolve or stubbornness harden. You’ve let yourself be humiliated enough. You refuse to die like this and you’re not going to give those two the satisfaction. You’re going to get out of here. //Think, Luce, think.// You might be out of your element, in a world that you never cared to look at but these assholes are out of their minds if they think they can beat you. You think of all the possible ways to escape. You don’t have a weapon. You don’t know much about handling guns. A knife could work. Maybe all you need is to be left alone untied. You think back to the look in Dante’s eyes as he tortured you. To the questions about the folder. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You’ll piss yourself|◎ Page 114-KIDNAP.45][$escape to true]] [[Pretend to know where it is|◎ Page 114-KIDNAP.45][$escape3 to true]] <<if $Dante > 4>>\ [[Seduce Dante|◎ Page 114-KIDNAP.45][$escape2 to true]] <<else>>\ ==Seduce Dante== <</if>>\

<<if $escape>>\ What other choice do you have? A mild inconvenience that will be washed away with a good shower. Hey, it’s your life on the line. Disgusting as all hell. But they’ll let you go to the bathroom—hopefully—and if you’re lucky, it’ll have a window that opens. <<elseif $escape2>>\ You know people, you know how it feels like to be wanted. How he must be fantasizing about having you naked and kneeling by his groin. You know what arousal looks like and as gasps escaped your lips, Dante’s eyes heated up with desire. As if he wanted to hear those moans or others too. Hopefully you won’t regret this. You cross your fingers. <<elseif $escape3>>\ You’ll demand to be taken to it and then you can find a way to escape in public. The problem is Carmen, Dante by himself is stupid enough to accept but you know she isn’t. You’ll have to really sell it. <</if>>\ You feel a twinge of nerves at the plan. So much is dependent on luck. But what other choice do you have? To die? You laugh, it comes out broken and dry, not your best. But it’s something. Yes, it is. [[◎ Page 115|◎ Page 115-KIDNAP.46]]

“He said he didn’t know we were exclusive,” she said, sucking on her popsicle. You snorted, licking your own ice cream. “And you believed that?” She looked at you guiltily and took a bite of her red popsicle that looked too much like a penis for you to not have commented on it. <<audio "midnight" stop>>\ <<audio "loss" loop play>>\ “Oh Marcela, really!” you said exasperated and pushed your sunglasses up. “Ok! May I defend myself?” she asked. You sighed, nodded and your eyes went back to the attractive ice cream vendor ahead of you. If you flirted, would that mean free ice cream all the time? “I wasn’t that clear with him. I was unsure because you know what happened last time I got involved with someone,” she said and uncomfortably chewed on her snack. “Vanessa opened her legs for whatever moved,” you replied. “Seems like you have a type, Marcey.” Marcela looked away, her cheeks reddened and you felt a slight pang of pity. It was hard for you to not judge people when they made obviously stupid choices. Why was it that no one your age seemed to have any self-respect? You threw your arm around her and leaned your head on her shoulder. “My advice is that love isn’t good for anything. People write sonnets, movies and songs about it to give it meaning because it’s meaningless. You know what lasts?” You looked up at her and she raised her eyebrows. “Money. Sex. Ice cream as long as all the cows on Earth don’t die and… family,” you said. She laughed, “That was almost not appalling, congratulations, Luz.” You smiled. “Do you miss them?” she asked. You shrugged. You didn’t want to share your feelings. You hated mushy conversations like these. You didn’t need to tell someone what you felt for your family. Anyone with eyes could see it. Yes, your Ma and Pa wished you called more and didn’t groan each time they cried and hugged you when you came back after winter break. But they must have known how much ==you loved== ==were fond of== cared for them, right? You knew you could have done a better job of expressing those feelings more and openly, your Ma sure did like to remind you of that fact. The ice cream vendor winked at you and you smiled back slyly. You straightened up and licked your ice cream, never taking your eyes off of them. <<if $sam is "masc">>\ “For someone who has a boyfriend, it’s weird that you aren’t that into love,” Marcey said. <<elseif $sam is "fem">>\ “For someone who has a girlfriend, it’s weird that you aren’t that into love,” Marcey said. <</if>>\ <<if $lovesam>>\ You grimaced. Yes, you loved Sam but the love hadn’t actually changed your life much. Sometimes you felt as if it wouldn’t last forever. Was that the cynic in you? Which was strange, since you had a great example of what marriage could be with your folkds. <<else>>\ You grimaced. Your bed has never been colder. Sam had made you no longer believe in love. That is, if you ever did. You saw how your folks were, but you didn’t think it was common or even possible. Not because of you, but everyone else. <</if>>\ “This isn’t about me, it’s about you and your awful choices,” you bumped her shoulder. She gave and exaggerated sigh and finished her popsicle. You threw away yours and then cajoled her to saunter over to the ice cream cart. But even your body can only take so much. You find your mind slipping into unconsciousness as you hear Dante say distantly, “Shit.” [[◎ Page 95|◎ Page 95-KIDNAP.26]]

“Hold still, you little brat,” you said and yanked playfully at her hair. Bianca tried to free herself even more. “You’re going to make my hair look ugly!” You rolled your eyes and continued to cross the strands over each other. “It’s hair braiding, it’s not that hard to make pretty. Of course, if the person who the hair belongs to is—” <<audio "midnight" stop>>\ <<audio "loss" loop play>>\ She tried to leave and you enveloped your arm around her waist and sat her back down. You laughed and your fingers quickened as you got the the bottom. “Damn you have a lot of hair. Hairy little monster.” “You’re just jealous because your hair is short and ugly. You can’t do braids like mine,” she said with a snotty voice. “Mama said my hair is the most beautiful unlike your split ends.” “This is why I never do anything for you. You’re a hairy little monster who’s about to be eaten alive by that beast you call hair and here I am doing my damn best to control these locks of hell,” you said, a big grin on your face. “I’m telling Ma that you said a bad word,” she threatened. You stopped braiding and said, “No you’re not.” “Uh yeah I am,” she said and blew a raspberry. You slipped your hand underneath her arm and tickled her armpit, “NO YOU’RE NOT!” She started giggling, wriggling her body away from your grasp. But you used your leg to wrap around her and dragged her into your clutches. “LUCE… HAHA… STOPPPP! P-PLEAS—” she fell into a laughing fit. “Are you going to tell Ma?” you said, not caring at all what Bianca had threatened to do. “N-NO! NO I WON’T!” she shrieked. You stopped tickling her and added the elastic band to the end of her long braid. Bee put her hand dramatically over her forehead and fainted back onto the fuzzy carpet. You also dramatically fainted and laid beside her. She took the end of her braid in her hand and put it between her teeth. She had done that since she was a baby, she loved doing it with your hair no matter the length. “Hey, Bee?” She turned to you. “Uh huh?” she said, her hair being chewed in between her lips. You smirked, “Do you say bad words?” She shook her head so quickly you snorted. “You don’t?” She shook her head again. Your sister was awful at lying. She could never respond with her words. “Bullshit,” you replied and she gasped. “I bet you’re a potty mouth all the time when you’re with your friends,” you teased. Her eyes widened in shock. “You were the one who Ma made the swear jar for!” You laughed. “Those new earrings she has on, you know the ones with the green triangles? They’re because of the swear jar.” Bianca made a face, “They’re ugly.” “//So// ugly,” you agreed. Then you both looked at each and laughed. Your sister laid her head on your chest as laughter rumbled in both of your chests. But even your body can only take so much. You find your mind slipping into unconsciousness as you hear Dante say distantly, “Shit.” [[◎ Page 95|◎ Page 95-KIDNAP.26]]

<<if $heir is 'want to be heir'>>\ <<set $wantheir to true>>\ <<elseif $heir is 'not want to be heir'>>\ <<set $notheir to true>>\ <<elseif $heir is 'not care either way'>>\ <<set $mehheir to true>>\ <</if>>\ You manage to sleep—barely. When you do you resume that horrible nightmare. You wake up in a room, on the floor. A room that feels familiar, yet unknown. You’re filled with an inexplicable sense of dread as you look around. You can’t make out anything, but you’re acutely aware of where the room ends. A series of whispers begins in the corner furthest from you. You scramble to your own corner and hug your knees. The whispers are hard to make out—they seem to be saying nothing—but they grow in pitch. You cover your ears, but that only makes the whispers grow louder and shift, as if more ==people== things were joining. “Andrea?” you call out. The whispers cease. You squint, trying to see your brother in the darkness. He would save you. He would protect you. They could never get to you with Andrea here. He was the brave one. He said Pa was coming soon, and that in the meantime, he would take care of you. He would turn on the light. The whispers start up again, all over the room—right next to your ears. The voices invade your mind, and you scream. You wake up multiple times, your sleepy eyes drifting around your dark surroundings, before falling asleep again. Odd sounds throughout the night make you jolt awake such as laughter, something breaking and car horns. Sunrise seems eternally far away in these hours. Staying awake means being alone with yourself. Is there anything worse than that? You already feel this situation seeping into your brain for future surprise encounters in vulnerable moments. You’ve left your guard slip today. Remembering things you have locked away behind a well bolted door somewhere in the recesses of your mind. But no matter. When you get out of here, everything will go back to normal. You won’t have to feel or think about these pesky bad feelings. It’ll go away, like everything does. When the sun finally does peek over the horizon, you try and move your abused limbs but find that they’re stiff and sore. Your neck creaks from being bent the whole night and blood has caked along your face. There’s a rancid smell coming off of you that makes your empty stomach heave. <<if $torture1>>\ You bemoan the state of your outfit. You picked it days in advance and now it’s tattered and sticky. You tongue your loose tooth due to Dante’s abuse and you fingers find the blooded stump where your finger use to be. Your eyes are swollen and ache from the bright orange sunrise. Your throat is scratchy from the screams and strain. <<else>>\ You bemoan the state of your outfit. You picked it days in advance and now it’s tattered and sticky. You tongue your loose tooth due to Dante’s abuse. Your eyes are swollen and ache from the bright orange sunrise. Your throat is scratchy from the screams and strain. <</if>>\ How much longer can you take this? Where is your Pa? He should have freed you by now. Charley? Lazlo? <<if $lazloIncest>>\ Why isn’t he here? You know everything would be ok if your brother was here. Your Lazlo would save you, make sure no one touched you again. In all this commotion, you hadn’t had time to think much about him because you assumed he would be ok. He’s so smart and resilient. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[He’s not like you [Grounded]|◎ Page 116-KIDNAP.47][$laz2 to true]] [[It’s his obligation [Spoiled]|◎ Page 116-KIDNAP.47][$laz3 to true]] <<else>>\ Why would he care? You wouldn’t if you were in his place. Haven’t you ignored him for years? <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[He’s not like you [Grounded]|◎ Page 116-KIDNAP.47][$laz1 to true]] [[It’s his obligation [Spoiled]|◎ Page 116-KIDNAP.47]] <</if>>\

<<if $laz1>>\ But he’s not like you. He’s good, isn’t he? He would never hold a grudge, or be petty. Envious. <<if $wantheir>>\ You always felt like he took it from you. Your inheritance. And he was never grateful for having it. For not acknowledging the sacrifice the world made for him to get it. <<elseif $notheir>>\ It’s not like you wanted to be heir anyway. But, the fact that you couldn’t was what got to you. As if you weren’t good enough. What the fuck? <<elseif $mehheir>>\ You didn’t care about having it yourself. You still don’t. You cared that it is //him// who has it. <</if>>\ <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded + 0.2, 0, 100)>>\ He was an orphan who came into your family without having deserved it. That’s what you always believed. He was an orphan, he was poor, not worth the trouble. What did your Pa see in him? Something missing from you? Some inherent quality that you’ve proven year after year to not have? How Lazlo got to be Pa’s confidante. How Pa had secret jokes with Lazlo. How much he admired the boy. Look at you. Tied up and maybe about to die and thinking about how fucking jealous you are. “FUCK!” you groan. No. You’re not going to think about this. You shake your head like a dumbass. “I need a massage,” you whisper. “And a piece of chocolate.” <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ “I’m talking to myself. Yeah, Luce, my girl, you’ve become a nutty.” <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ “I’m talking to myself. Yeah, Luce, my boy, you’ve become a nutty.” <<elseif $nbf or $nbm>>\ “I’m talking to myself. Yeah, Luce, my friend, you’ve become a nutty.” <</if>>\ <<elseif $laz2>>\ He’s strong. He wouldn’t have let himself get kidnapped so easily. Whatever. Charley was supposed to be in charge of that. Lazlo wouldn’t have let Dante grab you. He’s a good heir, isn’t he? <<if $wantheir>>\ You always felt he took it from you, but you adored him so much that you always felt guilty for feeling that way. You know how much he’s struggled. How he didn’t want this life, he told you. But you couldn’t help but feel like he stole it from you. <<elseif $notheir>>\ You knew he was the best choice, and it’s not like you were jumping for the chance to take on that responsibility but—you couldn’t help but feel angry at the fact you never got a choice. But it wasn’t his fault. Never his. <<elseif $mehheir>>\ You don’t know if you want to be heir, but seeing how hard it’s been for him—how much of a burden he has, you love him all the more for taking it on. <</if>>\ <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded + 0.2, 0, 100)>>\ It would be easier if you hated him. If you could think he was a usurper. But he made it so damn hard for you to even loathe him. Him, him, him with his perfect smile just for you. His blue eyes that are perpetually dull but light up when you make him laugh or make him proud. He’s the most important person in your life and this wouldn’t have been possible without Andrea dying. That’s what ruins everything. Andrea. Or is it Lazlo? Look at you. Tied up and maybe about to die and thinking about how fucking jealous you are. “FUCK!” you groan. No. You’re not going to think about this. You shake your head like a dumbass. “I need a massage,” you whisper. “And a piece of chocolate.” <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ “I’m talking to myself. Yeah, Luce, my girl, you’ve become a nutty.” <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ “I’m talking to myself. Yeah, Luce, my boy, you’ve become a nutty.” <<elseif $nbf or $nbm>>\ “I’m talking to myself. Yeah, Luce, my friend, you’ve become a nutty.” <</if>>\ <<elseif $laz3>>\ He’s the head of the family; one day he’ll have a bigger say over your life. It’s not like he doesn’t now. He doesn’t know it, but you’d pretty much do anything he asks. You know he would never ask you to do something that would hurt you. He protects you, like Andrea would’ve done. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded - 0.2, 0, 100)>>\ It’s hard to admit he has so much power over you. It goes against what you are. You live your life the way you want, but Lazlo… that’s why it’s better if he’s away. You won’t have him being let down by you. That’s why you won’t have anyone judging you. You won’t have to think about the fact that when he officially takes over, you’ll be at his mercy and worst of all? You’ll enjoy it. You’ll thank him for looking out for you. You’ll turn into a lovesick—a lapdog that looks at him like he shits gold bricks. <<if $wantheir>>\ //And that’s why I should’ve become heir.// <<elseif $notheir>>\ //I didn’t want to be heir but damn, it would solve this problem.// <<elseif $mehheir>>\ //Maybe I should’ve been heir.// <</if>>\ “FUCK!” you groan. No. You’re not going to think about this. You shake your head like a dumbass. “I need a massage,” you whisper. “And a piece of chocolate.” <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ “I’m talking to myself. Yeah, Luce, my girl, you’ve become a nutty.” <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ “I’m talking to myself. Yeah, Luce, my boy, you’ve become a nutty.” <<elseif $nbf or $nbm>>\ “I’m talking to myself. Yeah, Luce, my friend, you’ve become a nutty.” <</if>>\ <<else>>\ Isn’t he the future head of the family? He’s supposed to take care of you, always. As Pa would. As your brother would’ve and did. One day he’ll have a say in your life, won’t he? <<if $nolove>>Like Pa did when he asked you to marry Sam<<else>>Like Pa does<</if>>. That makes your eye twitch. Lazlo, a nobody, a runt taken off the street, will now have control over you. You’ve never been one to take orders, that's something you’ve held with pride but even you have acquiesced when your Pa asked you to do things. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded - 0.2, 0, 100)>>\ Lazlo could cut off your money just as easy. Maybe you should've ingratiated yourself to him more but every time you looked at him all you saw was someone who wasn’t supposed to be there. Who got lucky in the worst way possible and mopes around as if it’s soooo hard. Asshole. <<if $notheir>>\ //Sure, I didn’t want to be heir. That’s a sure way to get killed but it was still my birthright. At least I wanted to be able to say no. The fuck.// <<elseif $wantheir>>\ //That little shit stole from me. He stole Andrea’s place, he stole my place and he stole my Pa’s love. Sure, Pa loved me but he had a connection with Lazlo I would never have and I hated him for it.// <<elseif $mehheir>>\ //To me the position didn’t matter. It was that this nobody ranked higher than me in importance. He’s not even blood-related.// <</if>>\ “Mmmmm, stop it, Luce,” you chastise yourself. “Now is not the time to wallow in that type of shit. You think you might die and you get all sad? Don’t be a wuss.” Great, I’m so bored I’m actually talking to myself.” <</if>>\ You spend however long it takes for the sun to have escaped the trap of the horizon thinking about the spending spree you’ll have in order to console yourself over the hideous marks on your body. You’ll have to get surgery. Nothing that changes you too much, you were born with natural goods unlike the pests around these parts. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ <<if $weirdd>>\ [[You did get a boob lift|◎ Page 117-KIDNAP.48][$boob to true]] [[You did get a nose job|◎ Page 117-KIDNAP.48][$nose to true]] [[You did get a butt lift|◎ Page 117-KIDNAP.48][$butt to true]] [[You did get liposuction|◎ Page 117-KIDNAP.48][$lipo to true]] [[All naturale baby|◎ Page 117-KIDNAP.48]] <<else>>\ [[You got your boobs removed|◎ Page 117-KIDNAP.48][$notits to true]] [[You got boobs|◎ Page 117-KIDNAP.48][$boobyes to true]] [[You did get a boob lift|◎ Page 117-KIDNAP.48][$boob to true]] [[You did get a nose job|◎ Page 117-KIDNAP.48][$nose to true]] [[You did get a butt lift|◎ Page 117-KIDNAP.48][$butt to true]] [[You did get liposuction|◎ Page 117-KIDNAP.48][$lipo to true]] [[All naturale baby|◎ Page 117-KIDNAP.48]] <</if>>\

<<if $boob>>\ Birthday gift. You wore low cut shirts for a while after that. <<elseif $nose>>\ Graduation present. You set a trend amongst your friends and buried most younger pictures of yourself. Pa was sad you didn’t have his nose anymore. <<elseif $butt>>\ You had to throw out all your pants. <<elseif $lipo>>\ You spent months at the beach, any excuse to show it off. <<else>>\ Why mess with perfection? <</if>>\ Yeah— The door slams open, hitting the wall and making you flinch. Dante walks in with a big smile, his arms outstretched and in a booming voice says, “Good morning, $dname!” “Ugh, this fucking guy,” you groan. Dante might’ve not heard you as he walks to the window, “Beautiful day, right? Sun is shining! Birds are probably chirping! Or whatever the fuck they do.” “Dante…” you sigh. “There’s people out on the beach, some really great tits, you should see this,” he says and presses his face to the window. “Can you not—” “We got a nice breakfast for you today, $dname, I hope you like stale bread and expired ham with moldy cheese,” he stands in front of you with a sarcastic grin. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “Only the best for the princess.” <<elseif $cism or $transm or $nbm>>\ “Only the best for the prince.” <</if>>\ You feel your irritation grow. It is too early to deal with this… thing. One of Dante’s henchmen stands near the door, holding said sandwich. He bends down, his hands on his knees and with a smile that makes his eyes look manic. “That’s not all. I have some GREAT news! You know the inheritance you get when your parents die?” “Dante what—” you try to grit out. “Well, you might get it sooner than expected! You won’t even have to share it! Isn't that just groovy?” He exclaims. You frown, “What the hell are you talking about?” His tongue swipes along his upper teeth. He leans in, his breath tickles your ear as he whispers with glee, “Today your whole fucking family is going to die.” [[◎ Page 118|◎ Page 118-KIDNAP.49]]

<<audio "death" loop play>>\ Your blood freezes in your veins. All thought escapes your brain and all the anger you felt disappears as icy cold fear spreads along your stiff limbs. He moves away and beckons his henchman closer, he’s talking to him but his words sound muffled. The plate lands on your thighs but you don’t feel it. Dante says things to you that you can't understand the meaning of because this is impossible. //“Your dear Pa has been running his mouth to the FBI. Can you believe it? A Don backstabbing his own people to be a little bitch for the feds? Since you’re a civilian you don’t know this, but we call these motherfuckers: rats. The rats that end up in my chair like you. And do you know what we do with rats, Luce?”// <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“You exterminate them.”|◎ Page 119-KIDNAP.50][$f1 to true]] [[“Shut your fucking mouth.”|◎ Page 119-KIDNAP.50][$f2 to true]] [[“You’re a lying little bitch.”|◎ Page 119-KIDNAP.50][$f3 to true]] [[“Why?”|◎ Page 119-KIDNAP.50][$f4 to true]] [[You can’t answer him.|◎ Page 119-KIDNAP.50]]

<<if $f1>>\ As your father did with that man you heard and so many others. Back then it was all business to you? Things that weren’t of your concern. Now? How many families felt this way? <<elseif $f2>>\ Dante just laughs at you and you want to wring your hands around his neck and squeeze until he stops moving. <<elseif $f3>>\ He snorts and continues blabbing on as if the potential death of your family is nothing more than an announcement for him. <<elseif $f4>>\ He looks at you strangely, “Why not?” He then continues going about things you don’t care about. <<else>>\ Your can’t find the words. How could anyone? <</if>>\ You feel like you’re in a dream, wanting to move and thinking you are but you realize that you’re stuck in one spot while the predator comes ever closer. Ma, Pa, Bianca. Ma, Pa, Bianca. Ma, Pa, Bianca. Ma, Pa, Bianca. Ma, Pa, Bianca. Ma, Pa, Bianca. Ma, Pa, Bianca. Ma, Pa, Bianca. Ma, Pa, Bianca. Ma, Pa, Bianca. Ma, Pa, Bianca. Over and over again like a scratched record. Ma, Pa, Bianca, Andrea. You’ll be alone again. Like you were after your brother… The void of loneliness stretches out ahead of you for years, decades, an entire human life all alone. Your heart pounds like hard knocks in your chest and your ears seem to hold all the static in the world. What can you do to fix this? To get out of this? Throughout all the times of your life when you were backed into a corner, you found a solution because you weren’t going to be hopeless after Andrea ever again. And you always found a way, right? You were Luce fucking $surname. Clever under pressure. Everything always worked out in your favor because it had to. There existed no world in which you lost. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“How much money do you want?”|◎ Page 120-KIDNAP.51][$w1 to true]] [[“Let them go and I’ll do—”|◎ Page 120-KIDNAP.51][$w2 to true]] [[“Dante, please, don’t…”|◎ Page 120-KIDNAP.51][$w3 to true]] [[“If you dare to touch a hair—”|◎ Page 120-KIDNAP.51][$w4 to true]] [[Words taste like mud|◎ Page 120-KIDNAP.51]]

<<if $w1>>\ Dante chuckles, “Any money you got is your dad’s.” “I have a lot of money in my bank account, take it all—” <<elseif $w2>>\ “You’ll what? You’re a square. A ‘productive member of society,’” he says in disgust. “There must be something I can do!” <<elseif $w3>>\ He sighs in a way that sounds like it could be a moan in different circumstances. “Begging can be so sweet.” “If you need to be begged I’ll beg. I don’t care, just don’t hurt my family,” you whisper. <<elseif $w4>>\ He grabs you roughly by the hair and yanks. “YOU’LL WHAT? NOTHING RIGHT? What can a college dweeb do to me?” <<else>>\ It’s not like someone like Dante understands words. You spiral in your thoughts of unpenetrating darkness. <</if>>\ A loud slapping noise pushes your senses forward once as your swollen cheek burns with another hit. It inflames an already tender spot and your lip cut opens again. Dante guides your face towards his direction. “Luce, it’s bad manners to not listen to your host. I was talking,” he says, grinning like he’s a comedian. “I need you to pay attention because this part’s important.” “More important than my family dying?” “EXACTLY!” he claps his hands together then intertwines his fingers. “Your Papa might be a coward and a rat but that doesn’t mean your Ma and little Bee are. Women are usually too maternal and delicate to get involved with all of this.” <<if $cisf or $nbf>>\ He eyes you and amends, “Well //most// women.” <<elseif $transf>>\ He eyes you and amends, “Well //most// women. I don’t know what’s going on here,” he points to your chest. <<else>>\ Then he seems to remember something and amends, “Except for my sister.” <</if>>\ You wish he could stop talking. You want him to shut up and leave but if he leaves you right now you’ll cry and that’s so embarrassing. Crying has never solved anything. [[◎ Page 121|◎ Page 121-KIDNAP.52]]

“… and that’s why women shouldn’t be in this business. Only Carmen, but I don’t know if I would call her one. ANYWAY, my Pops has agreed that he won’t kill your sister and your Moms if you give over the folder. He won’t even kill you. Just your Pops,” Dante explains. The words tumble out of your mouth before you even know what you’re saying, “All of them, Dante. Don’t kill my Dad.” Dante moves his mouth around as if he’s swishing mouth-wash in there. “Not up to me, $dname. The old man is in charge.” Dante leans closer, putting a hand on the back of the chair. “Between you and me? He’s not going to budge on your Pops. My Papa is realllyyyy hurt about being fucked over by a guy who he looked up to for decades. Who taught him everything he knows. He’s real hurt.” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“If you do this, I’ll make you pay.” [Intimidation|◎ Page 122-KIDNAP.53][$x1 to true]] [[“My father has connections, you don’t think you won’t bring hell down on your family?” [Cunning]|◎ Page 122-KIDNAP.53][$x2 to true]] [[“Come on, Dante. Don’t you want me to owe you a favour?” [Seduction]|◎ Page 122-KIDNAP.53][$x3 to true]] [[You look down|◎ Page 122-KIDNAP.53][$x4 to true]]

<<if $x1>>\ “I promise you that,” you say coldly. Dante waves your threat off. “Be my guest. I need more masturbation material.” <<set $Intimidation += 0.1>>\ <<elseif $x2>>\ “//Had// Cat, had. Now all the rats have abandoned ship,” he replies. <<set $Cunning += 0.1>>\ <<elseif $x3>>\ “And what could you give me?” he asks, he’s eyes dipping lower to your chest. Your nose wrinkles at the implication. “The only thing you could give me is something I can get from a hooker,” he says. <<set $Seduction += 0.1>>\ <<elseif $x4>>\ You would usually be a spitfire here but your pride has quieted down. He is not worth petty arguments. <</if>>\ <hr class="symbol-hr">\ <<link "“So you have them?”">> <<script>> var el = document.getElementById("italyq1"); if (el.style.display === "none") { el.style.display = "block"; } else { el.style.display = "none"; } <</script>> <</link>>\ <div id="italyq1" style="display:none;"> Dante doesn’t reply but his smile is enough to make you queasy. “Where?” “You think I’m going to tell you? I’m not that mentally retarded,” he boasts. “Dante, at least tell me if they’re in New York,” you press. He rolls his eyes, “Why does that matter?” “Are they in New York?!” you raise your voice. “FUCK, YES, OK?” he shouts. </div> <<link "“When did you take them?”">> <<script>> var el = document.getElementById("italyq2"); if (el.style.display === "none") { el.style.display = "block"; } else { el.style.display = "none"; } <</script>> <</link>>\ <div id="italyq2" style="display:none;"> “A bit before we took you,” he replies, “You’re lucky I was nice enough to not ruin your party before the countdown.” “How am I lucky?” you ask incredulously. “You killed every one of my friends.” He shrugs, “You got a last hurrah.” “And you think that makes you a good person?” you ask, disgust in your voice. “Hey! Carmen wanted me to get you earlier. You deserved a sweet party before we shat on your life. That was me being //nice//,” he states. You guess the torture is him being mean in his eyes and not psychopathic to the point of rivaling chairman Mao. </div> <<link "“What proof do you have that he talked to the Feds?”">> <<script>> var el = document.getElementById("italyq3"); if (el.style.display === "none") { el.style.display = "block"; } else { el.style.display = "none"; } <</script>> <</link>>\ <div id="italyq3" style="display:none;"> “My dad said so,” Dante responds. You raise an eyebrow, “That’s it?” He gets a bit defensive, “Yeah. What? Don’t you believe your dad when he tells you stuff?” You scoff, “It’s a pretty big accusation. If my dad is a traitor at least some of this could make sense. Your dad could be lying.” //Is lying,// you think. But by the darkening expression on Dante’s face you don’t say that part. “He’s not. Your dad is a backstabbing piece of shit and he’s getting what’s coming to him,” he says. You stare daggers at him, “Don’t talk about my dad.” “Or what?” he says coming closer. He leans down to be eye-to-eye. “What are you going to do to me?” You strain against your binds. He smiles, “All bark no bite, Luce.” </div> <<link "“Lazlo?”">> <<script>> var el = document.getElementById("italyq4"); if (el.style.display === "none") { el.style.display = "block"; } else { el.style.display = "none"; } <</script>> <</link>>\ <div id="italyq4" style="display:none;"> “What?” he asks. “Do you have him too?” you inquire. <<if $lazloIncest>>\ Dante makes a face. “You care a lot about that son of a bitch, huh?” You roll your eyes. “That’s my brother.” “Sure,” he snorts. “Your //brother//.” <<else>>\ Dante makes a face. It seems that’s all you’re getting out of him. <</if>>\ </div>\ [[You don’t ask him anything else|◎ Page 123-KIDNAP.54]]

“I want to talk to them,” you state. “So you can try to get out of this. Nuh uh,” he replies. “How would we do that?” you ask angrily. “I’m tied up across an ocean with no help in sight and they’re in a similar situation.” He shrugs, “Codes and shit. Morse code, yeah. Stuff like saying ‘moldy cheese’ and that means call backup when you can.” He pinches your cheek roughly, “Cheer up, $dname. Maybe my Pops will let you have a family reunion.” Dante starts backing away, towards the door but he leaves you some parting words, “You got until the end of today to tell me where the folder is.” “How the fuck am I supposed to eat this without my hands?” you ask, gesturing at the sandwich which you don’t want anyway. Dante shrugs playfully. “I need water, Dante, at least keep me alive,” you say. He leaves and one of his goons silently closes the door behind him. You look down at the sandwich and… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Try to reach it|◎ Page 124-KIDNAP.55][$ek to true]] [[Throw it|◎ Page 124-KIDNAP.55][$ek2 to true]] [[Throw it|◎ Page 124-KIDNAP.55][$ED to true]] //[TW: Implied ED]//

<<if $ek>>\ This experience has showed you that no matter how far you have fallen, you can always go lower. It doesn’t work of course. You can’t bend that much and you can’t move your legs. The plate ends up sliding off your lap and crashing to the floor. You can’t even hope to reach a shard for weaponry. You let out a tiny scream of frustration. <<elseif $ek2>>\ You slide it off your lap and let it shatter on the ground. You can’t hope to reach the sharp plate pieces. Your stomach feels hollow. You might just die of hunger. At least you’ll die thin. <<elseif $ED>>\ You slide it off your lap and let it shatter on the ground. You can’t hope to reach the sharp plate pieces. Your stomach feels hollow. You might just die of hunger. At least you’ll die thin. Anyway, you’re body has been through enough, it couldn’t handle throwing it up. As if you could stick your finger down your mouth right now. <</if>>\ <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[See Antonio’s POV|◎ Page 125-KIDNAP.56][$tonypov to true]] [[Skip it|◎ Page 129-Antonio-KIDNAP.60]]

How many times had Antonio Gabriele $surname faced death? The first time, he was 7 years old and he pickpocketed a wealthy man in his small town of San Tommaso. His mother and brother were starving and no one wanted to hire him due to his late Father’s reputation as a drunk gambler and petty criminal. <<audio "death" fadeout>>\ The wealthy man caught him instantly, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until it snapped. He then threw him on to the dirt and told him, “Ragazzino stupido.” //If you’re going to steal from your betters, be smarter and cover your tracks.// That wealthy man had been rumored to have gained his riches through illicit businesses. Antonio remembers paying particularly close attention to the man’s holster. The wasn’t the last time Antonio had committed a crime but it was the one he never forgot. He had exported and imported contraband, tortured, bribed, racketeered and killed, yet that small act of his childhood had stayed with him forever. He had been good at following that advice for over 50 years. At least he had until one track, a single track he did not cover and now he was suffering for his hubris. For what he did. All of this was cumulative karma. It would’ve been fine if it had only been him tied to a chair, suffering the taunts, threats and torture of the Grecos; a family he once loved as his own and he stupidly and naively thought loved him the same. His beloved wife was sat next to him and his youngest daughter was somewhere else within the house. Silvio had done this on purpose, taken the most vulnerable member of the family in order to apply pressure to the parents. He knew this tactic well. He was, after all, the one who taught it to him. The gag in between his lips was moist with his spit. He had screamed when one of Silvio’s men had taken off one of his fingernails. The fingers of his left hand are now a crusted bloody mess. He had screamed when Bee was taken to another room to be done God-knows-what to and he had screamed when Ana had been slapped for talking back to Silvio. <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ He had always loved that about her. It was a trait their daughters had inherited. <<else>>\ He had always loved that about her. It was a trait their children had inherited. <</if>>\ His children had also inherited his wife’s capacity for emotion. Salty tear lines had dried on her face. This recent bout of tears had come about when Silvio had told them that his son had Luce. <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ Not being able to see his daughters, console them and free them had filled him with a surge of wrath that had opened fresh wounds on his wrists after trying to pull his restraints off by force alone. <<else>>\ Not being able to see his kids, console them and free them had filled him with a surge of wrath that had opened fresh wounds on his wrists after trying to pull his restraints off by force alone. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 126|◎ Page 126-Antonio-KIDNAP.57]]

<<if $cisf or $transf>>\ Bee was too young to handle this and Luce… she had been through this before with his Andrea but look what it had done to her? Luce was never the same again. Antonio could see it in the way she spoke, acted and looked. But he had been raised with the belief that you left someone who’s in pain to feel it and they’ll eventually be ok. That is how he got over his brother being forever missing after he was told Enzo had been taken as a prisoner of war. That is how he survived when his father left them to their luck and he had had to step up. That’s how he survived the death of his madre after the allies had come to ‘save’ Sicily with their bombs. Andrea nearly killed him. He had two other children to raise but he dreamt of putting a gun in his mouth when he thought of his boy buried in the cold earth. He thought he would allow his daughter to deal with the pain she felt in her own way. Like he did. But maybe that wasn’t how it worked. He was forced to grow up quickly but he had given Luce a life in which she wouldn’t have to, a life he dreamed and wished his own father would have given him. <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ Bee was too young to handle this and Luce… he had been through this before with his Andrea but look what it had done to him? Luce was never the same again. Antonio could see it in the way he spoke, acted and looked. But he had been raised with the belief that you left someone who’s in pain to feel it and they’ll eventually be ok. That is how he got over his brother being forever missing after he was told Enzo had been taken as a prisoner of war. That is how he survived when his father left them to their luck and he had had to step up. That’s how he survived the death of his madre after the allies had come to ‘save’ Sicily with their bombs. Andrea nearly killed him. He had two other children to raise but he dreamt of putting a gun in his mouth when he thought of his boy buried in the cold earth. He thought he would allow his son to deal with the pain he felt in his own way. Like he did. But maybe that wasn’t how it worked. He was forced to grow up quickly but he had given Luce a life in which he wouldn’t have to, a life he dreamed and wished his own father would have given him. <<else>>\ Bee was too young to handle this and Luce… they had been through this before with his Andrea but look what it did to them? Luce was never the same again. Antonio could see it in the way they spoke, acted and looked. But he had been raised that you left someone who’s in pain to feel it and they’ll eventually be ok. That is how he got over his brother being forever missing after he was told Enzo was taken as a prisoner of war. That is how he survived without his father leaving them to their luck and he had to step up. That’s how he survived the death of his madre after the allies had come to ‘save’ Sicily with their bombs. Andrea nearly killed him. He had two other children to raise but he dreamt of putting a gun in his mouth when he thought of his boy buried in the cold earth. He thought he would allow his child to deal with the pain they felt in their own way. Like he did. But maybe that wasn’t how it worked. He was forced to grow up quickly but he had given Luce a life in which they wouldn’t have to, a life he dreamed and wished his own father would have given him. <</if>>\ But money isn’t all a child needs. He needed it so much on those nights when he would go to bed with a belly full of warm water infused with leaves. He had the disadvantage—or maybe luxury—of not having time to think of fear, sorrow, pain. [[◎ Page 127|◎ Page 127-Antonio-KIDNAP.58]]

<<if $cisf or $transf>>\ Luce is clever. Luce could survive. But she’s fragile, somehow. How would she survive with all of her family dead? His sweet Luce, who is far more tender and caring than she let on. <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ Luce is clever. Luce could survive. But he’s weak, somehow. How would he survive with all of his family dead? His sweet Luce, who is far more tender and caring than he let on. <<else>>\ Luce is clever. Luce could survive. But they’re gentle, somehow. How would they survive with all of their family dead? His sweet Luce, who is far more tender and caring than they let on. <</if>>\ He does not hope for salvation for himself, his wife and his youngest. A miracle would need to occur; Antonio has never been much for believing in God’s favour. Not after all he’s done. When he dies, will he see his Andrea, his brother and his mother all warm smiles and open arms as they welcome him to a kinder and softer world? Or would he see the depths of hell? If so, he deserved it. He looks at Ana, she senses his eyes and looks back. Her eyes, that was the first thing he noticed about her. Beautifully dark brown eyes that shined like obsidian. He had always maintained it was love at first sight. She had said she thought he looked a bit like a pitbull when they first met. He laughed so hard he wasted no time in courting her. He knew a woman that could insult him yet make him joyful was someone not to let get away. Here she was, his Ana, his love, his companion, the mother of his three children and the great love of his life. He could never understand how other men could be married and look somewhere else for love. She was more than enough for him. They couldn’t speak but their eyes communicated silently. //I’m sorry,// he says. //I know. You never wanted this to happen,// she says. //What will happen to our children?// Her eyes twinkled. She gestures towards the closed double door of the family library. Ana shakes her head. //Bee is going where we are going.// Antonio looks up at the hanging chandelier, then looks back down. //Luce?// [[◎ Page 128|◎ Page 128-Antonio-KIDNAP.59]]

Ana inhales deeply before shrugging her shoulders. The men standing guard in the room eye them, their hands on their guns. They stop communicating. The doors open and in walks Silvio, flanked on each side by his men. Silvio’s silver hair shines under the warm light. Antonio had been stricken with how much him and his son looked alike. It was almost unnerving. Dante, unfortunately, didn’t inherit his father’s cool head. One of the men goes to grab the telephone perched on the desk. Silvio’s eyes stare at Antonio’s. He has not looked at Ana once, she was inconsequential to him. Silvio had a special dislike of women and tried to ignore their existence. <<if $cisf or $nbf>>\ “Antonio, your daughter has said she doesn’t have the folder. Which makes me believe her fiancé was lying or your daughter is a liar,” Silvio informs. “I would have forgiven the tendency of youth to tell fibs had I not been the victim of a very big fib by you.” <<elseif $cism or $nbm>>\ “Antonio, your son has said he doesn’t have the folder. Which makes me believe his fiancée was lying or your son is a liar,” Silvio informs. “I would have forgiven the tendency of youth to tell fibs had I not been the victim of a very big fib by you.” <<elseif $transf>>\ “Antonio, your confused ''son'',” he begins with revulsion. Silvio had never made it a secret how much he hated transvestites. He had told Antonio that it was a disgusting phase Luce was going through. A son was better than a abomination for a daughter. "...has said he doesn’t have the folder. Which makes me believe his fiancé was lying or your son is a liar,” Silvio informs. “I would have forgiven the tendency of youth to tell fibs had I not been the victim of a very big fib by you.” <<elseif $transm>>\ “Antonio, your confused ''daughter'',” he begins with revulsion. Silvio had never made it a secret how much he hated transvestites. He had told Antonio that it was a disgusting phase Luce was going through. That even a daughter was better than a abomination for a son. "...has said she doesn’t have the folder. Which makes me believe her fiancée was lying or your daughter is a liar,” Silvio informs. “I would have forgiven the tendency of youth to tell fibs had I not been the victim of a very big fib by you.” <</if>>\ Antonio mumbles behind his gag. Silvio’s eyes glint with a small amount of amusement. Antonio had seen that look. It was the one Greco had carried whenever he felt powerful. <<if $cisf or $nbf or $transm>>\ “I thought it was only fair to do an eye for an eye. A fib for a fib. My son is convinced that if Luce believes she can save her family then she will be more forthcoming,” Silvio speaks. “My son’s brain is not the biggest nor the sharpest but this idea was likely his sister’s doing. She can be rather useful, when she forgets she’s a woman.” <<elseif $cism or $nbm or $transf>>\ “I thought it was only fair to do an eye for an eye. A fib for a fib. My son is convinced that if Luce believes he can save his family then he will be more forthcoming,” Silvio speaks. “My son’s brain is not the biggest nor the sharpest but this idea was likely his sister’s doing. She can be rather useful, when she forgets she’s a woman.” <</if>>\ Silvio holds out his hand as his man gives him the telephone. Silvio places it on Antonio’s lap. Antonio looks at Ana and her confusion mirrors his own. They turn to Silvio who is watching them. <<if $cisf or $nbf or $transm>>\ There is little emotion in his eyes. His measured voice explains, “Luce still has a chance. She has another life faraway and has never been involved with the family business. She has no talent for it and —pardon me—a rather base intelligence. She could be free to live her own life.” Silvio lifts up the receiver and says to Antonio, “Convince her.” <<elseif $cism or $nbm or $transf>>\ There is little emotion in his eyes. His measured voice explains, “Luce still has a chance. He has another life faraway and has never been involved with the family business. He has no talent for it and —pardon me—a rather base intelligence. He could be free to live his own life.” Silvio lifts up the receiver and says to Antonio, “Convince him.” <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 129|◎ Page 129-Antonio-KIDNAP.60]]

You didn’t know what you expected. Another round of torture? Being left alone all day to go stir-crazy? Carmen’s weird therapy sessions? Anything but Dante walking in several hours later with a phone in one hand and a water-bottle in the other. He doesn’t untie you but rather messily pours the water down your dry throat. It hurts but it does help you clear your head more. Dante puts the phone on your lap and then his arm on your head as a crutch while he’s on the phone with the operator. <<audio "death" fadeout>>\ His heavy arm makes your neck hurt. You’re sure he was doing this to fuck with you. That is until he presses the phone to your ear. “Yes?” you ask. There’s some movement on the other end before you hear a voice that fills you with relief. “//Luce? Is that you?//” your Pa asks. “PA!” you scream overjoyed. “//LUCE, oh thank God. How are you?//” he asks. You look at Dante who holds a happy smile on his face. Apprehensively you reply, “I can’t feel my face, I have a disgusting gunshot wound and I’m being held by a psychopath. Apart from that you can say I’m doing just groovy.” Your Pa laughs weakly on the other end. “//You never lose a chance to be charming, do you?//” His laughter warms your chest. Everything feels like it’ll be ok now that Papa is here. “//Luce, listen to me. I don’t have time—//” “Pa, I have to tell you about the folder. The truth is I don’t—” “//NO! Don’t give it to them! Luce they’ll kill us anyway, we’re doomed, but you can bargain, maybe, you can save yourself!//” he urges. [[◎ Page 130|◎ Page 130-Antonio-KIDNAP.61]]

You blink rapidly, “What?” “Tesoro,” his voice comes out affected. You suddenly feel panicked, please don’t start crying Pa. “It will be quick for us. We won’t feel any pain. You can’t save us—” //Just like I couldn’t save Andrea.// “—but our family can continue through you and your brother. Do whatever it takes to survive and avenge us,” he says, his voice suddenly shifting towards a righteous anger. You don’t know how to respond to that request. What could you fucking say to that? There’s a series of scuffles and static on the other end of the line. You hear multiple voices arguing with each other. You hear a scream that sounds like it belongs to a woman before your father yells into the phone, “I love you!” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“I love you.”|◎ Page 131-KIDNAP.62][$goodbye1 to true]] [[“Please don’t leave me.”|◎ Page 131-KIDNAP.62][$goodbye2 to true]] [[“I can’t do this.”|◎ Page 131-KIDNAP.62][$goodbye3 to true]] [[You have so much to say. Yet nothing comes out.|◎ Page 131-KIDNAP.62][$goodbye4 to true]]

You hear a struggle and shots fire in the background before the line goes dead. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ //Antonio had always wondered about what heaven would look like. His own heaven would look like the little house his Mama had by the sea. The smell of oranges in the air. The sunlight glinting off the water like millions of diamonds. The sand between his toes. He would sit under a tree bowed down with fruit, at a table surrounded by his family. His children, all his children, would smile at him, his mother would make a joke that he is not eating enough and his brother would ruffle his hair like he used to. Papa would still be in the kitchen peeping his head out of the window and telling everyone that the arancini is almost ready. He could almost hear the waves. It was ''beautiful''.// [[◎ Page 132|◎ Page 132-KIDNAP.63]]

Dante pulls the phone and you scream, “CALL THEM AGAIN!” He chuckles, “You don’t call the shots here, $dname. Instead of crying to your daddy on the phone, you get to remembering where the hell that folder is, alright?” You glare at him with so much hatred that his joking manner momentarily disappears and you see him look serious—a rare occasion. He holds up his hand, “Look I always liked your Pops and your Moms and your sister. Laz is one of my cats. It isn’t personal, Luce.” “Just business right?” you snap. “EXACTLY!” he gestures to you, “You get it!” You’re filled with so much rage you’re shaking and Dante realizes how angry you really are. He seems to be containing a smile as he says, “Ok, you’re pissed, I get it.” He leaves you again. Once the door shuts, you feel all the fight leave your body and you slide down in your seat as much as your restraints let you. The last things you heard didn’t bode well. But you don’t want to think about what it could possibly mean. But the screams, the gunshot, your Pa’s voice. You don’t want to allow yourself to think about what it could mean but you’re so, so worn down. If… if you no longer have your family, what’s the point? Why make a deal? Even if they don’t kill you too, you’ll be let out into a world where you’re the only one left. And suddenly you’re 10 years old again. Weak, stupid and unable to save your brother. You didn’t listen to Charley, you got caught, maybe if you had gone with her then maybe you could’ve gotten home— And what? Gone in guns blazing and killed everyone? You’ve never shot someone. You don’t know how to mount a rescue mission. None of these people are scared of you. Lazlo was the only one who could save your family and who knows where he is? Dead? If you’d have been heir… <<audio "death" loop play>>\ At least you won’t have to think about it much longer because you’ve only got a few hours to live and that is what stops you from breaking down and crying. You won’t give Dante and Carmen that joy. So you inhale deeply and blink back the hot tears that would love to spill. //But what if I can get out of this?// [[◎ Page 133|◎ Page 133-KIDNAP.64]]

The thought is unwelcome. It gives hope when you don’t want it. You were planning on escaping before the call. Your Pa’s own words echo in your mind. He wanted you to live. To avenge them. He had only seriously asked you for something twice in your life. You already failed him by losing the folder. Will you disappoint him now? The door opens again and you sigh, “Dante I’m really not in the fucking mood. If you’re going to kill me just shoot me and get it over with.” “Now that would be wasteful, Darling,” Carmen says with a voice that suggests she’s been smoking quite a bit before she got here. The dress she’s wearing has her breasts nearly spilling out of her top, it’s hard not to notice when she’s standing so close. And by the arrogant look in her eyes, you can tell it’s on purpose. “I need to talk to my family,” you express. “Carmen, I know you can make that happen.” She reaches out to push your hair out of your eyes and says, “I can’t make that happen, father wouldn’t want it.” You look down, exhausted and in of a need to nap. “But maybe I can save your life,” she says. [[◎ Page 134|◎ Page 134-KIDNAP.65]]

Your eyes shoot up and when she sees she has your attention, she smiles coolly. “For a price.” You roll your eyes, “What? You want that damn folder? I told you I don’t know where—” <<audio "death" stop>>\ She holds up a hand to silence you. “I know. You don’t have to give it to me today or tomorrow. But it has to be somewhere, Luce. Whenever you do end up of finding it, I want you to give it to me. Not my father, not my brother, ME. Understand?” You let out an incredulous scoff, “Are you double-crossing your family now, dear Carmen?” She grabs your jaw, digging her nails into your cheeks as she pulls your face close. “Don’t ever say that again. You think you know me because we saw each other at a few dinners? Whatever I need that folder for is my business.” You seethe as your eyes lock with hers in a battle of wills. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” you ask. “Your Dad hasn’t shown himself to be the most honest guy around.” “And your Dad was what? An honest man?” she laughs maliciously. She talks about him as if he’s already gone. That makes you flinch only slightly but that is enough for her to notice and she grins. “You’ll trust me because you have no other choice. You have to find a way to escape but I’ll make sure that this place has less men than it should. It’ll be easy for your people to come in and rescue you or for you to slip away.” Your people. Is that what they are now? You don’t even know if you have people to come for you. Lame. You jerk your face out of her hand and ask, “Is this a choice?” “If you’re smart your mind should already be made up,” she replies. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Accept the deal|◎ Page 135-KIDNAP.66][$cardeal to true]] [[Reject it|◎ Page 135-KIDNAP.66]]

<<if $cardeal>>\ She says, “Try anything right now and I’ll slice your throat.” She slides her dress up to reveal her shiny silver knife. She walks behind you and you tense as you feel her working on the rope around your wrists. “Carmen, what are you—” “Shut up for once, Luce,” she demands and releases your hands. The raw pain in your wrists renews as they’re freed from the tight rope. You’re having trouble but you manage to move your hands to your lap. There, Carmen binds them again and places your water-bottle in between your hands. “Betray me and what Dante did to you won’t compare to what you’ll suffer with me,” she threatens. She doesn’t say anything more and leaves the room, her hips moving from side to side; if you didn’t know her you would’ve have thought she was exaggerating it. <<else>>\ Her nostrils flare and she lifts her hand as if to strike you. You flinch away. She lets out a shriek and curls her hand tightly. She turns on her heel sharply and leaves, slamming the door so hard it rattles. <</if>>\ You had never realized how boring life can be when you have nothing to do but think ,and since thinking would lead to stupid thoughts you force your mind to remain blank. It’s fairly easy with the practice you have had. You could think about your method of escape, work out possible hitches and Plan Bs but you’ve always been a more on-your-feet type of person. <<if $cardeal>>\ You continue drinking your water. <<else>>\ You can’t reach your water bottle, your throat and lips ache for moisture <</if>>\ You watch the journey of the sun as it crosses the sky and begins to descend. You know you’re not in the city you went to university in. The trip to get here was longer. The Grecos wouldn’t risk keeping you close to where you live when The Family would inevitably come looking for you. It’s a spectacular show when the sun begins to set. The beautiful colours of blue, orange and pink melt together in a mosaic of natural colors. //My family will never see this again.// You bite your cheek and push that thought aside. Not now. As the stars begin appearing in the sky, Dante comes back in. This time alone. You can see him look to where you’re looking from the corner of your eye and he snaps his fingers in front of you. “Where are your goons?” you ask. “Somewhere around here. I don’t need them to take care of me, I can take care of myself,” he says vehemently. You arch an eyebrow at the sudden surge of irritation in his voice. You deign to look at him. He’s twisting his big fat ring around his finger, looking at you as if he’s deciding what to say next. But you have to control the situation before he does. Throwing someone like Dante off balance can be fairly easy. He doesn’t plan like his sister does. He’s too blinded by his own pride and insolence. <<if $escape>>\ You start pissing yourself. [[◎ Page 136|◎ Page 136-P1]] <<elseif $escape2>>\ You raise your face, allowing the expanse of your neck to show as the begins of a subtle smile spread on your lips. [[◎ Page 136|◎ Page 136-P2]] <<elseif $escape3>>\ “I know where the folder is,” you say. [[◎ Page 136|◎ Page 136-P3]] <</if>>\

You feel the hot, wet pee slide down your legs, onto the seat you’re on and into your shoes; it seeps between your toes and you turn your head away from the mess. A single sniff of it makes your nose curl. Have you ever stooped lower? You’re never going to live this down. Dante looks down at the trickles of piss falling on the floor and spreading. He looks up at you. Back at the piss. Up at you. Back at the piss. “I’m not high enough to deal with this shit,” he mumbles and turns away to leave. “Dante what the fuck? You’re going to leave me like this?!” you scream, your plan isn’t going as you thought it would. Dante doesn’t even turn back. He just closes the door on you. You’re so shocked that this didn’t work and that now you’re just being seeped in your own pee that you stare at the wall for at least half an hour, your mouth open in shock. Only when the pee starts cooling do you start yelling. “HELLO? CAN SOMEONE HELP ME?” you yell out. You haven’t even seen if anyone is posted at your door. They should be. That goon—Timmy was it? <<if $lucePronouns[$lucePronounSet].prefix is "Mr.">>\ He opens the door and says, “Do you need anything Mr $surname?” <<elseif $lucePronouns[$lucePronounSet].prefix is "Miss">>\ He opens the door and says, “Do you need anything Miss $surname?” <<else>>\ He opens the door and says, “Do you need anything $surname?” <</if>>\ “You’re a goon, right?” you ask. He blinks, “I’m a bodyguard. Mr. Greco promised me I could be a made man—” “Look, I don’t give a fuck,” you interrupt, “I need to take a shower.” He raises an eyebrow, “I can get you a cloth.” When you raise your eyebrows, he clarifies, “I won’t look. But I have strict instructions to not let you out of this room.” You groan loudly and annoyingly. “Timmy—” “It’s Tommy.” “Like I said, Tommy, does it smell kind of rancid in here like a raccoon had a dandy time just spraying their shit? I wouldn’t call myself a raccoon but…” you let yourself deliberately trail off. Tommy the-not-goon sniffs the air and then his eyes widen, they dart down towards your legs and the little plunk-plinks of urine falling from your clothes in tiny drops as they fall to the floor. You smile sheepishly. “Being tied to a chair does wonders for one’s bladder, huh?” “I—” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“If you don’t help me I’ll tell Dante that you tried to help me escape for money.” [Intimidation]|◎ Page 137-P1][$tom1 to true]] [[“Where’s the code of honor?”|◎ Page 137-P1][$tom2 to true]] [[“You help me, and when I make a deal with the Grecos, I’ll put in a good word for you.” [Cunning]|◎ Page 137-P1][$tom3 to true]] [[Try to appeal to his sympathy [Seduction]|◎ Page 137-P1][$tom4 to true]]

<<if $tom1>>\ Tommy blinks at you. “Why?” You shrug, “Can’t blame someone for doing what needs to be done to save a little bit of self-respect, or would you just be happy peeing yourself?” “He won’t believe you,” he asserts. <<set $Intimidation += 0.2>> You smirk, “Won’t he? You wanna bet on that?” <<elseif $tom2>>\ Tommy doesn’t respond. You keep going, “You want to be a made man, right? That means you follow the old codes. Guys like Dante? They don’t respect anything. Do you want to work for people like that?” <<elseif $tom3>>\ Tommy looks doubtful. <<set $Cunning += 0.2>> You try your best to give him a friendly trustworthy smile. “I remember favours, T-boy. You don’t know how much I like people who take opportunities. It reminds me of me.” <<elseif $tom4>>\ You make your eyes teary. A tact you learned from childhood. “Please? I’m scared and in pain. I’m just asking for this one thing. Please, help me. For the love of God.” <<set $Seduction += 0.2>> Tommy looks conflicted and you feel a tear run down your cheek as you say, “If I could kneel I would.” Perfect. <</if>>\ Tommy sighs and looks behind him. He looks back at you and then walks over, his hands already reaching for the rope tied around your wrists. “Don’t try any funny business. You do anything I think looks suspicious, I’ll shoot you where you stand.” You nod enthusiastically, “You got it.” When the ropes leave your abused skin, you moan loudly. Tommy blushes but you don’t care. God, small miracles feel heavenly. You try to get up but your legs buckle and Tommy has to hold onto you. “I’ll help you there,” he says. “Groovy,” you groan. You don’t know what you were expecting but the house—whatever the hell they’re keeping you is sparsely furnished. The walls are white everywhere and most doors are closed. You walk through what you think is the living room. There’s a few black couches strewn around a table that’s littered with beer cans, cigarettes, porn magazines and some money. <<if $cardeal>>\ No one around. You wonder how Carmen did it. <<else>>\ Other men, similarly dressed to Tommy, sit on chairs, stand outside and along the rooms, eyes following you sharply. <</if>>\ The air reeks of old food and dope. Like a cripple, Tommy slowly takes you through the rest of the house. You don’t see any telephones anywhere. He opens the door for you and lets go, clearing his throat he says, “I’ll be outside.” “What about <span class="tooltip">threads<span class="tooltiptext"> <span class="tooltip-title">THREADS</span> Clothing; </span></span>?” you ask innocently. You gesture to the very garments that are clinging to your body, “I’ll still smell like piss if I take a shower and wear the same clothes.” Tobias looks conflicted, the hand by his gun flexing. You roll your eyes, “There’s goons everywhere. I can’t escape, I’m not the fucking hitman from //The French connection//.” <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ Theo scratches the back of his neck, “I could see if Miss Greco has any clothes around here.” <<else>>\ Theo scratches the back of his neck, “I could see if Mr. Greco has any clothes around here.” <</if>>\ “Tucker, where are they by the way—the Greco siblings?” you ask, offering him a small smile. “It’s Tommy. Uh, Miss Greco went out and Mr. Greco is asleep,” he replies. [[◎ Page 138|◎ Page 138-P1]]

“Ok,” you shoo him with your hand. You close the door on him still looking very unsure. Who cares? <<audio "70s" loop play>>\ You don’t see a lock and curse. You look around for anything that can block the door. The bathroom isn’t that big. The pink rug is ugly. You wouldn’t have chosen those curtains— “YES!” you yell out and cover your mouth. You wait and listen to any noise coming from outside. When you hear nothing you walk over to small window just above the sink. You step onto the toilet and then plant your knees on the sink to peek out. You see a stretch of green grass leading somewhere you can’t see. Open space, that’s not good. How easy of a target would you be? <<if $lazloIncest>>\ If you had found a telephone maybe you could… what? Call your Pa? You would laugh if you didn’t feel like a kicked dog. You could call Laz. But you don’t know where he could be. You hope with every part of your being that he’s ok. <<else>>\ If you had found a telephone maybe you could… what? Call your Pa? You would laugh if you didn’t feel like a kicked dog. Maybe you could’ve called Lazlo but who knows what happened to him, he could be dead. <</if>>\ You hang your head. The moment you step outside your life is forfeit. Where’s your brilliance now Luce? <<if $cardeal>>\ Carmen said she made them leave but she couldn’t have gotten them all, it would look suspicious. <<else>>\ Maybe if you run fast enough, they’ll have a harder time hitting you. <</if>> <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ You take off your heels. <<else>>\ You take off your heeled boots. <</if>>\ <<if $lucePronouns[$lucePronounSet].prefix is "Mr.">>\ The door opens and a voice says, “Is everything alright, Mr. $surname? I was knocking and you weren’t—” <<elseif $lucePronouns[$lucePronounSet].prefix is "Miss">>\ The door opens and a voice says, “Is everything alright, Miss $surname? I was knocking and you weren’t—” <<else>>\ The door opens and a voice says, “Is everything alright, $surname? I was knocking and you weren’t—” <</if>>\ You freeze and he freezes. “Um…” you say. He has the clothes in his hands. You let out a badly-timed snort at the look on his face. “Tommy, thanks for the clothes,” you say and reach out for them. “I haven’t taken a shower and I won’t have time if I want to leave as fast as possible, but the clothes help.” “Excuse me, are you escaping? Right now?” he asks. “Yeah.” He looks utterly stupefied. You make a noise of impatience as you gesture for him to hand over the clothes. He mechanically hands them to you. You start taking off your clothes right then and there—Tommy averts his eyes and you smile at his creeping blush. “You can’t leave,” he says. “I can and I will. You want them to kill me or what?” you ask. <<if $lucePronouns[$lucePronounSet].prefix is "Mr.">>\ “Mr. Luce I won’t let you leave,” he says and reaches for his gun. He cocks it and points it at you. <<elseif $lucePronouns[$lucePronounSet].prefix is "Miss">>\ “Miss Luce I won’t let you leave,” he says and reaches for his gun. He cocks it and points it at you. <<else>>\ “Luce... sorry for speaking so informally.... but, I won’t let you leave,” he says and reaches for his gun. He cocks it and points it at you. <</if>>\ <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ You feel your blood freeze in your bones but you don’t show it, covering it up with a smile as you finish putting on Carmen’s clothes. A floral orange 3 way tie front and jean bell bottoms. <<else>>\ You feel your blood freeze in your bones but you don’t show it, covering it up with a smile as you finish putting on Dante’s clothes. A teal polyester button up and brown bell bottoms <</if>>\ “Get down from there,” he demands. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Try to get him on your side|◎ Page 139-P1][$tomboy to true]] [[Attack him where it hurts|◎ Page 139-NO-T-P1]]

How? <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“We leave together or we die together.”|◎ Page 140-P1][$to1 to true]] [[“You want to be a made man? I’ll make you one.”|◎ Page 140-P1][$to2 to true]] [[“Would you really let them kill me?”|◎ Page 140-P1][$to3 to true]]

<<if $cardeal>>\ <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ You haven’t kicked many men in the balls. Not your preferred method of attack but a girl has to make do with what they have on hand. Your aim rings true and Tommy’s face blossoms red as he falls to his side while clutching the family jewels. <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ You haven’t kicked many men in the balls. Not your preferred method of attack but a boy has to make do with what they have on hand. Your aim rings true and Tommy’s face blossoms red as he falls to his side while clutching the family jewels. <<else>>\ You haven’t kicked many men in the balls. Not your preferred method of attack but a cat has to do with what they have on hand. Your aim rings true and Tommy’s face blossoms red as he falls to his side while clutching the family jewels. <</if>>\ You reach for his gun without a second thought. It’s not as if you know how to shoot but it’s better to have a weapon. Carmen apparently got rid of enough people to make it easier for you but you can never trust someone fully, especially a woman like that. You slip out of the window and land on your side, hurting your already bad leg. “LUCE!” Tommy’s pained yell comes from inside. You get up and start running across the field. You don’t know what you’re going to do without a car. Hitchhike? You’ve heard of the dangers of it, stupid hippies, but you have no other way out— “IS MY RAT ESCAPING?” Dante’s voice cuts through the air. You turn away in horror as you see him in his underwear heading straight towards you. He waves at you with a gun in his hand. You start backing up. Your fingers clench around the gun you’re holding. “Dante, get away from me.” He grins, “And why would I do that when I can just shoot that pretty face of yours and drag you back into the play room?” You lift the gun. You try not to notice how badly your hand shakes. “I mean it. Go. I’m not fucking around, I will kill you if you try to stop me.” Dante stops walking and taps a finger on his chin as he pretends to think. “You want me to be scared?” “You wanna die, you dick head?” you ask as you keeping backing up. He shrugs. “If it hurts it’ll feel good.” He seems to seriously consider letting you kill him. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “Buttttt my dad would be totally embarrassed if I let myself be killed by a girl like you,” Dante says and lifts the gun, a playfully look on his face. “Come inside, Luce.” You don’t stop backing away, “Over my dead body.” Dante licks his lips, “Whatever you say, foxey.” <<else>>\ “Buttttt my dad would be totally embarrassed if I let myself be killed by a dork like you,” Dante says and lifts the gun, a playfully look on his face. “Come inside, Luce.” You don’t stop backing away, “Over my dead body.” Dante licks his lips, “Whatever you say, cool cat.” <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 140|◎ Page 140-NO-T-P1]] <<else>>\ <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ You haven’t kicked many men in the balls. Not your preferred method of attack but a girl has to make do with what they have on hand. Your aim rings true and Tommy’s face blossoms red as he falls to his side while clutching the family jewels. <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ You haven’t kicked many men in the balls. Not your preferred method of attack but a boy has to make do with what they have on hand. Your aim rings true and Tommy’s face blossoms red as he falls to his side while clutching the family jewels. <<else>>\ You haven’t kicked many men in the balls. Not your preferred method of attack but a cat has to do with what they have on hand. Your aim rings true and Tommy’s face blossoms red as he falls to his side while clutching the family jewels. <</if>>\ You reach for his gun without a second thought. It’s not as if you know how to shoot but it’s better to have a weapon. Carmen apparently got rid of enough people to make it easier for you but you can never trust someone fully, especially a woman like that. You slip out of the window and land on your side, hurting your already bad leg. “LUCE!” Tommy’s pained yell comes from inside. You get up and start running across the field. You don’t know what you’re going to do without a car. Hitchhike? You’ve heard of the dangers of it, stupid hippies, but you have no other way out— You turn around and your little flicker of hope is extinguished when you see Dante and a group of his men already there, waiting for you. He waves at you with a friendly smile. Carmen then pushes past the men to stand next to her brother; she brings her balled fists up to her eyes to mockingly pout at you for not accepting her help. “Sooooo what are you doing?” Dante asks. “Taking a stroll? Why didn’t you invite us?” You can’t be faulted at this moment for forgetting the gun in your hand. It wouldn’t matter anyway, it’s you a newbie versus 20 of them. “Carmen said she would help me if I betrayed you and your dad by the way,” you confess. Her face doesn’t register what you’ve said at all. Dante looks at his sister then at you, “And I’m Al Pacino. Any other bullshit someone wants to say?” “It’s true. You think I’m the enemy? Watch the people around you,” you say to Dante as you start backing up. Carmen’s face doesn’t move as her eyes don’t leave yous. A little spasm in the hand she has placed on her brother’s shoulder tells you it did get to her. You give her a sly smile. “Pot calling the kettle black, didn’t your dad betray us? That’s why he’s dead and so is your mom and your cute little sister,” Dante says. That makes you stop. Your heart feels like it skipped a beat. You look at his face for any signs that he’s doing this just to get to you. But his face remains as cruelly playful as always. You look over your shoulder at the water below. A cliff, of course. Could they be more comically evil than having a lair on a cliff? Is this what they mean by being between a rock and a hard place? Between a gun and a cliff… //It’ll make a good party story.// You back up. Dante points his gun at you. “I heard they suffered,” Carmen comments. “It must hurt to get shot that many times.” “Bitch,” you seethe. She smiles, “The most useless member is the last to die. Poetic, I think.” You feel the wind at your back. But you’re not potentially dying without getting a last jab in. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ [[“I might be useless but at least I’m not a bastard whose mom didn’t even want her.”|◎ Page 140-NO-T-P1]] [[“Dante, it must feel shitty that your dad trusts you so little you need your big sis as a babysitter.”|◎ Page 140-NO-T-P1]] [[“Yeah, and this useless member is gonna live longer than your sorry asses.”|◎ Page 140-NO-T-P1]] <<else>>\ [[“I might be useless, but at least I have a cock.|◎ Page 140-NO-T-P1]] [[“Dante it must feel shitty that your dad trusts you so little you need your big sis as a babysitter.”|◎ Page 140-NO-T-P1]] [[“Yeah and this useless member is gonna live longer than your sorry asses.”|◎ Page 140-NO-T-P1]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\

<<if $tomboy and not $cardeal>>\ He looks towards the door, a flash of apprehension in his eyes and then looks at you. You plead with your eyes because hell will freeze over before you beg a lowly employee. He sighs in resignation. “This compound is crawling with men. Our best bet is to escape through this window but then we’ll have to run across a large patch of grass, which will make us easy targets for any of the twenty guards here.” You curse. “That many? Jesus. Ok. Well, it’s either that or I stay here and die and you will too probably because Dante is a lunatic who would kill anyone for no reason and Carmen is… Carmen.” Tommy nods, “I have a car that's parked at the other end of the field, we have to get to that.” He pats his right pocket. He motions for you to climb out of the window. It’s harder than you think due to what you endured under Dante and that’s not including the fresh bullet wound, which presses against the wall and makes you bite your tongue until you bleed so that you don’t scream. Tommy comes up right behind you. You land rather ungracefully on the ground, grass in your mouth. Tommy lands on his feet and you take a moment to be envious of that. He holds out a hand and you promptly ignore him, getting up and adjusting your clothes. You breathe in the fresh air and wish to prolong this moment as much as you can, the sun shining down on you and the warm air making your hair flutter. “HEY!” someone screams and interrupts your mediation on nature’s finer aspects. Jerk. A few guards about 50 feet away spot you two immediately and start running. “GO!” Tommy yells and pushes you forward. You don’t need to be told twice. Your leg is bad, you have bruises and broken bones and yet you run across the soft grass like you’re at peak performance. <<if $pastime is 'running'>>\ You thank your past self for being obsessed with running. You didn’t think you would ever use it for anything that wasn’t a method to get too fat, but you’re not complaining. <<else>>\ You run like you haven’t ran since high school, when you would always get doctors notes to not participate because you hated sweating in front of others in broad daylight and using communal showers. <</if>>\ <<if $pastime is 'running'>>\ You don’t even look behind you; entirely forgetting about Tommy. You hear gunshots near and farther away from you. You swear you feel a bullet within a hairbreadth from your ear. You’re faster than them. <<else>>\ You don’t even look behind you; entirely forgetting about Tommy. You hear gunshots near and farther away from you. A bullet grazes your ear and you hiss as you press your hand to the wound, thinking of stopping before another bullet whizzes past your leg. <</if>>\ "OOF,” Tommy says from somewhere behind you. You look over your shoulder and see he’s stopped running, and he’s clutching his stomach. All while indiscriminately shooting behind him. Your steps slow and you think of what to do. Dante’s men are gaining on you and they haven’t stopped shooting. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Go back for him|◎ Page 141-P1][$tom to true]] [[Keep running|◎ Page 141-P1]] <<elseif $tomboy and $cardeal>>\ He looks towards the door, a flash of apprehension in his eyes and then looks at you. You plead with your eyes because hell will freeze over before you beg a lowly employee. <<set $tom to true>> He sighs in resignation. “This compound is pretty empty right now but there are still some men here. Our best bet is to escape through this window but then we’ll have to run across a large patch of grass which will make us easy targets for any of the guards here.” You sigh. “Jesus. Ok. Well it’s either that or I stay here and die and you will too probably because Dante is a lunatic who would kill anyone for no reason and Carmen is… Carmen.” Tommy nods, “I have a car that's parked at the other end of the field we have to get to that.” He pats his right pocket. He motions for you to climb out of the window. It’s harder than you think due to what you endured under Dante and that’s not including the fresh bullet wound which presses against the wall and makes you bite your tongue even to bleed so that you don’t scream. Tommy comes up right behind you. You land rather ungracefully on the ground, grass in your mouth. Tommy lands on his feet and you take a moment to be envious of that. He holds out a hand and you promptly ignore him, getting up and adjusting your clothes. You breathe in the fresh air and wish to prolong this moment as much as you can, the sun shining done on you and the warm air making your hair flutter. “Let’s go,” Tommy urges and interrupts your mediation on nature’s finer aspects. Ass. Two gaurds guards about fifty feet away spot you two immediately and start running. “GO!” Tommy yells and pushes you forward. You don’t need to be told twice. Your leg is bad, you have bruises and broken bones and yet you run across the soft grass like you’re at peak performance. You run like you haven’t run since high school when you would always get doctors notes to not participate because you hated sweating in front of others in broad daylight and using communal showers. You don’t even look behind you; entirely forgetting about Tommy. You hear gunshots near and farther away from you. You swear you feel a bullet with a hairbreadth from your ear. But either you’re wounds have made you slower or Tommy is more athletic because he gets there first. He waits for you to get in before pulling out and swerving onto the road. The road is fairly twisty as you and Tommy speed down whatever hill you’re on. You look around you and you don’t recognize anything. “Tobey where are we?” you ask. “Tommy,” he stresses. “We’re in Cinque Terre.” You snort. “And that's supposed to mean what to me?” He once again checks the mirror to see behind him. There’s a slower car in front of you that he honks at. “Northern Italy, to the west,” he replies. You take in that information. You lick your lips, “Where are we going now?” Tommy honks at the car again and the driver sticks out their middle finger. Tommy goes into the next lane and speeds up, passing the slow driver—which happens to be an old lady—and then gpes back in the right lane. “I don’t know. Where should we go to contact your people?” he asks. You fill your cheeks with air and blow it out. You don’t even know if anyone would answer. Your Pa made you religiously memorize the numbers of different safe houses in case anything ever happened. He would spend hours grilling you. You have them in your mind like a Rolodex. “We need to get to a pay phone,” you respond. You two are quiet for a good long minute, but you grow uncomfortable—you have never liked awkward silences. You eye him, taking in his clothes and his facial features. He side eyes you. You feel a grin spread on your face. “Do I make you nervous?” “No.” “Liar,” you respond, “I make everyone nervous.” “Why do you think that?” “‘Cause I’m hot, so they get nervous from being in my near proximity,” you shrug. Tommy’s eyebrows furrow. “I don’t think I have ever heard someone say that outside of TV shows.” “You'll come to notice I’m unlike any $luce.noun you’ve ever met,” you say pridefully. He nods. You slide closer, “So, I guess you’re my bodyguard now, huh?” “I thought you had one. The FBI Indian chick,” he says. You make a face. “Charley hated when I didn’t listen to her. If she’s alive—which she definitely is—she’s probably pissed... WHAT DID YOU SAY?” Tommy looks in your direction. “I thought you knew.” Your eyebrows disappear into your hairline. “What the fuck do you mean? How long?” “How long what?”  “NO LONG HAS SHE BEEN A DAMN TRAITOR?!” [[Charley’s POV|Charley’s POV-P1]] <</if>>\

<<if $tom>>\ You don’t even know where the hell this altruism comes from. Normal Luce would high tail out of there and wish him good luck because in this world you have to look out for number one, since no one else will do it for you. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded + 3, 0, 100)>>\ You swear. “Ma and her lectures. Marcey too, damnit.” You roll your eyes and internally berate yourself for being a dumbass as you turn back and rush to his side. You take the gun from him. Not really knowing what the hell you’re doing and just pull the trigger at whatever you can. Tommy looks at you in disbelief, “You came back?” You smirk, “Every protagonist needs their sidekick. You got the job now, let’s fucking go.” You manage to clip a few guys so that Trevor can get his bearings and start running while clutching his wet stomach. You start backing up, shooting more as one guy with light brown hair and green eyes barrels towards you. You don’t think. You can’t. You just shoot and a bullet goes right through his throat. Blood spurts out and he collapses in front of you. Your throat contracts but Trenton is calling you and the other men are getting closer and you can’t think about this now. You’ll think about this later. You run after Tommy, who’s heading for a black simple car parked on some gravel a bit aways. "LUCE!” Dante’s voice cuts through the air and you see him gunning for you, a maniac expression on his face as he starts shooting wildly. Tripp rushes to the door and flings it open. You don’t ask and just get in while still still shooting. A bullet breaks through the windshield and disappears out the back window. Tommy is already reversing and high tailing it out of there before you can properly be seated. He jerks the car onto the road and slams his foot on the gas pedal, throwing you against the seat. You drop the gun on the floor and press your hand to your forehead, breathing heavily. <<else>>\ Oh, but you do run back. Timmy looks surprised and a bit relieved when he sees you coming to him. You barely look at him as you stick your hand in his right pocket and take his keys. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded - 3, 0, 100)>>\ Todd’s face falls as he realizes what you have in your hand but you don’t stick around to see the rest. "Hope you make it, Tanner!” you yell and run to the car. There’s more gunfight behind you but your eyes land on a little black car—the only one parked there—and you ignore whatever is going on behind you. You slide across the car and think about how cool you probably looked before throwing the door open and getting inside. You turn on the ignition and don't bother with a seatbelt as you press down on the gas pedal and speed out of there. “Luce!” Dante screams loud enough to hear across the field but you don’t look. The tires screech on the grovel as you jerk the car onto the road. You don't know where you're going nor where you are but you don’t stop. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 142|◎ Page 142-P1]]

<<if $tom>>\ The road is fairly twisty as you and Tommy speed down whatever hill you’re on. You look around you and you don’t recognize anything. “Tobey, where are we?” you ask. “Tommy,” he stresses. “We’re in Cinque Terre.” You snort. “And that's supposed to mean what to me?” He once again checks the mirror to see behind him. There’s a slower car in front of you that he honks at. “Northern Italy, to the west,” he replies. You take in that information. You lick your lips, “Where are we going now?” Tommy honks at the car again and the driver sticks out their middle finger. Tommy goes into the next lane and speeds up, passing the slow driver—which happens to be an old lady—and then goes back in the right lane. “I don’t know. Where should we go to contact your people?” he asks. You fill your cheeks with air and blow it out. You don’t even know if anyone would answer. Your Pa made you religiously memorize the numbers of different safe houses in case anything ever happened. He would spend hours grilling you. You have them in your mind like a Rolodex. “We need to get to a pay phone,” you respond. “Yes we—” A car rams into you from behind, pushing you towards the dashboard. There’s a loud and endless honk as the car rams into you again. Theo looks at the mirror and you rub your forehead as you look behind you. There’s a car there that’s black with tinted windows. “Who’s that?” you ask and once more the car rams into yours, pushing it forward and faster down the slopes of Cinque Terre. “Dante,” Tucker says. He pulls out his gun and starts shooting behind him while driving and looking between the road in front of him and the car behind him. It makes the car veer to the right, dangerously close to the drop of this hilly road. Dante rolls down the window his car and leans out as he aims a gun at the back of your windshield. You duck as he shoots, breaking the window and sending fragments of glass all over the car. The bullet pierces the front windshield but doesn’t go through it, the bullet lies snugly at the top as cracks form down it. Timothy throws the gun on your lap and you look at him like he’s lost his mind. “Wha—” “$honorific, I can’t shoot and drive. I need you to try and take out one of their wheels, if not Dante himself,” he says. A bullet hits somewhere at the back of the car. Your eyes widen, “Are you crazy?! I can’t shoot for shit. I don’t know how a gun fucking works and I’m not a killer!” Tyler sighs angrily and presses his foot down on the gas as the road stops sloping and becomes even. You see buildings ahead of you and cars parked beside empty streets that gain curbs. The town itself quickly takes you in. They’re colorful buildings of different shapes and sizes, seemingly stacked up upon one another. Cheerful Italian music plays from some radio perched on the hood of a car. It could could been groovy if Tristan slowed down and there wasn’t a maniac shooting at you. People look as indiscriminate bullets fly through the air and hit other cars, flattening their tires; hit tables, signs and perhaps some people you don’t know because they start ducking. <<audio "shots" play>>\ Teddy swerves onto another street with a loud screech and the other car follows. The gun still lies heavy on your lap. “Where are we going?!” you ask Todd. “I’m trying to lose them, $honorific,” he replies. “But the streets are too narrow and I don’t know the area well.” Suddenly the car feels like a hand has squished it down, as it lowers to the earth and starts to slow. “Shit!” he swears. “What?!” Tobias stops the car and gets out, you follow with the gun in your hand and see a tire rapidly losing air from the bullet hole that’s as clear as day. “Oh fuck!” you say as you see Dante’s car stop a few feet back and him and his men step out. “$honorific, run!” Tom says. You start running with him behind you. As soon as you do, you hear more gunshots. Like your newly-acquired goon, you don’t know these streets either, and make choices that seem logical in the moment. You push past people that don’t yet seem to get what’s going on. A man you pass gets a bullet right through his shoulder. You don’t look back as you jump over a fallen bicycle. Tim is right on your heels as you turn into another street and ram into an old lady who’s carrying a bag of groceries. Eggs fly through the air and fall onto the sidewalk and yourself. She screams at you, likely a series of swear words that you’re too scared to really listen to. There comes a woman ahead of you who’s smiles in greeting and before you can think about what to do, a bullet goes right through her throat, killing her instantly and spraying her blood onto you. You stop as you’re blinded and furiously wipe at your eyes. “$honorific!” Travis exclaims and tugs at your arm. You shrug him off and look behind you to see the group of men running towards you. Dante at the forefront with a gleeful smile on his bloodied face. You must look the same, minus the smile. You lift the gun you have, not even checking if you need to do something first before shooting at him. You don’t know if you aim to kill but a shoot hits his arm and he grunts loudly as he’s forcefully stopped. His men stop in that moment too which is all you need. You and Tyson take off running, slipping into a little alley way full of garbage that the rats were munching on before scattering from your presence. You climb a face there separating you from the next neighborhood. You spot a series of ladders that lead to the roof of a building and jerk your head at it. Tanner sees it and nods. He follows your lead. The ladder hasn’t been waxed in a while and the whole thing looks unstable but you climb it. You reach the top and instantly sit down and then lay down on the hard baking concrete. The sun shines brightly and hotly down on you. Nearly hyperventilating, you discard the gun that Tatum immediately takes and he goes to the edge of the roof. He lays on his stomach and peers down at the street. You breath comes out in rasps as you try and calm your beating heart. You don’t know how long you lay there, being roasted by the heat and body paralyzed with fear and exhaustion. This has been the hardest start of year anyone has ever had. “$honorific, I think they’re gone,” Titus says as he gently shakes your shoulder. You open one eye up at him. Egg yolk drips down the side of his face. “They were looking for over an hour and they’re gone now.” You sit up, waving off his help. You wipe your forehead and look at the tops of the other buildings. “We need to find a telephone.” Trey in all his usefulness finds an unlocked car, hot-wires it and you two drive around slowly. Always, stop before a crossroads and looking at each road to spot any chance of Dante still being around. As the streets go by you still see cars line them and people walk along leisurely as if life is still normal. As if everything hasn’t changed. Italy. You don’t know if you want anyone to pick up your call. You don’t think you can handle to hear what you’re dreading. Tommy goes down back roads leading to seedier parts of the town before you spot a pay phone and ask him to stop. “Do you have any coins?” you ask. "Not Italian,” he says. You shake your head and step out. You see an older man sipping on a chilled drink of juice and plaster on your best smile, smoothing down your hair and adjusting your clothes. Hopefully you don't look too much like a disaster. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “Sí? Come posso aiutarla?” the old man asks. <<else>>\ “Sí? Come posso aiutarlo?” the old man asks. <</if>>\  <<if $studies is "languages">>\ You know Italian. You didn’t take four years of languages to sit on your ass. It always came so easily to you to know one romance language and learn the rest or at least get a solid grasp and Italian was the first one you learned. <<set $italian to true>>\ <<set $spanish to true>>\ <<set $brazilian to true>>\ <<set $french to true>>\ <<set $tom to true>> [[◎ Page 143|◎ Page 143-P1]] <<else>>\ <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Can speak Italian|◎ Page 143-P1][$italian to true]] [[Can understand it|◎ Page 143-P1][$slightitalian to true]] [[Don’t speak nor understand it|◎ Page 143-P1][$noitalian to true]] <</if>>\ <<else>>\ You’re not used to driving that much. You’ve lived in cities all your life where either it was better to walk or take a chauffeur. You don’t use turn signals as you weave in and out of traffic. Cars honk at you but you pay them no mind, shooting your middle fingers at various people. You periodically check behind you to see if there’s anyone who looks suspicious. As if you could even tell. Looking at the landscape, you realize you’re not in a city you recognize. You don’t know where this road leads but you keep following it until you’re off whatever mountain you were on. The road leads to a town with brightly coloured houses and people in various states of summer undress walking down the streets. You feel a prickle of anger. How dare they enjoy themselves when you’re being chased by mafiosos? You look for a pay phone on each street but the further you go you can’t seem to find one. You slam your hand against the steering wheel. “Fuck!” You jerk the car to the curb, hitting it. You climb out and you hear screams in the distance and perk up your ears up to see if you can hear what’s causing them. It’s Italy after all, the mafia is right at home here. For all you know it could be a completely unrelated thing. Yet, you decide to not go back to your car. You grab a hat hanging by a chair and wrap it around your head. You knick a pair of sunglasses off a stand while the seller isn’t looking and look down at your feet as you walk. //Not too fast and not too slow, Luce.// You head to a nearby restaurant or cafe or whatever, you don’t bother to read it. You go inside and spot a telephone by the cash register. There’s a middle aged woman tending it and her eyes follow you as you enter. You must look a wreck. Screw her for looking. You look hotter than her even like this. Hoe. <<if $studies is 'languages'>>\ You know Italian. You didn’t take four years of languages to sit on your ass. It always came so easily to you to know one romance language and learn the rest or at least get a solid grasp and Italian was the first one you learned. <<set $italian to true>>\ <<set $spanish to true>>\ <<set $brazilian to true>>\ <<set $french to true>>\ [[◎ Page 143-P1]] <<else>>\ You... <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Speak to her in Italian|◎ Page 143-P1][$italian to true]] [[Speak to her in English. You can understand her.|◎ Page 143-P1][$slightitalian to true]] [[Speak to her in English. You won’t understand her at all.|◎ Page 143-P1][$noitalian to true]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\

<<audio "70s" stop>>\ <<audio "shots" stop>>\ <<if $tom>>\ <<if $italian>>\ <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “Sir, could I trouble you for some spare change?” you ask, doing your best innocent voice. You gesture to Tommy in the car, “My boyfriend and I are trying to get the directions to my cousin’s wedding.” You think he’s going to reject you outright but he fishes out a few coins and hands them over. You smile in gratitude. “Grazie,” you reply. <<else>>\ “Sir, could I trouble you for some spare change?” you ask, doing your best innocent voice. You gesture to Tommy in the car, “My friend and I are trying to get the directions to my cousin’s wedding.” You think he’s going to reject you outright but he fishes out a few coins and hands them over. You smile in gratitude. “Grazie,” you reply. <</if>>\ <<elseif $slightitalian>>\ You point to yourself and speak slowly, “I need…” you make a circle with your fingers and place it on your hand. Then you point to the pay-phone. You think he’s going to reject you outright but he fishes out a few coins and hands them over. You smile in gratitude. “Thanks,” you reply. <<elseif $noitalian>>\ You point to yourself and speak slowly, “I need…” you make a circle with your fingers and place it on your hand. Then you point to the pay-phone. You think he’s going to reject you outright but he fishes out a few coins and hands them over. You smile in gratitude. “Thanks,” you reply. <</if>>\ You nod to Tommy who’s still in the car and go over to the pay phone. You dial for the operator and ask for a person-to-person call. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You call Lazlo|◎ Page 144-P1][$mafia to true]] [[You call Charley|◎ Page 144-P1][$fbi to true]] <<else>>\ <<if $italian>>\ “Signora, could I borrow your telephone, please?” you ask, making sure to bat your eyelashes. “You have to order something,” she replies, looking down and continuing her work on her knitting. You look at the menu and your nose wrinkles at the choices. “A coffee.” She doesn’t look up as she hands you the telephone. You lay an American bill on her counter. <<elseif $slightitalian>>\ You rap on the table and say, “I need to use your telephone.” You put to the aforementioned thing to make sure she gets it. She doesn’t respond and looks down at her knitting. You rap the table again, “Hey lady, I need to use the telephone. “You have to order something first,” she says. You take the menu and peruse it quickly—all the options are shit. Still, you order a coffee. Without fanfare, she gestures to the phone. You take it before she makes you order more. You lay an American bill on her counter. <<elseif $noitalian>>\ She says something that you can’t understand. “What?” She hands you the menu without looking and you’re confused until she rubs her thumb, pointer and middle finger together. Cha-ching. “Exploiting bitch,” you murmur. “I’ll have a coffee,” you say and point to it for good measure. She hands you the phone and yells towards the kitchen. You lay an American bill on her counter. <</if>> You look to the car to make sure it’s still there. A few kids are peeking inside. You dial for the operator and ask for a person-to-person call. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You call Lazlo|◎ Page 144-P1][$mafia to true]] [[You call Charley|◎ Page 144-P1][$fbi to true]] <</if>>\

She wipes the blood on her boot on a piece of toilet paper she took from the bathroom. She looks around for a trashcan but can’t seem to find one. Aren’t offices supposed to have them? <<set $fbicharley to true>> <<audio "70s" stop>>\ Don Antonio $surname seemed to be a man that didn’t make mistakes. She looks down at the stiff body on the floor. Or hid his mistakes until he no longer could. Parker closes his notebook and walks around the bodies. His meticulous eyes taking note of anything of value for the report to their boss. Paperwork is Charley’s least favourite aspect of her job. At least when she was Luce’s boydguard she didn’t have to send regular reports. Verbal briefings with Parker were more than enough. Charley looks at Mrs. $surname’s shirt. It’s pulled up, likely due to how she fell after she was shot. Charley feels pity for her, she has the urge to lower the skirt, to preserve Mrs. $surname dignity. Charley had known that Antonio would end like this or in prison where he belonged but Mrs. $surname had little to do with her husband’s illicit activities. Her and the little girl are innocent victims of what the man in their lives did. Such is the case for women all over the world. Parker comes to stand next to Charley, slipping his notepad inside his suit. “This is a fucking mess.” She gives him a slight incline of her head. “We were so close too,” he says. Charley bristles at that. She was so close. This was her mission. This was a common occurrence in her line of work. There aren’t many women in the FBI, less who aren’t white and she’s the only Indian. There were many colleagues who had protested when she was assigned this case. That it was too big for her, that she would stand out like a sore thumb, that she needed more training. Excuses, since she was more experienced than half those guys who had already been assigned undercover stings. This case was supposed to prove that she was as good or even better than the boy’s club and here it was. An annihilated family on New Years Day. “Do you think Luce—” “No,” she replies. “Luce is resourceful and a tough cookie but the Grecos are vicious, especially the boy. If Luce isn’t dead through Silvio’s orders, then it was through Dante’s extensive torture. A seasoned agent could withstand it, not a civilian.” Parker nods, Charley feels his eyes on her and she takes a deep breath. “Is there something you wanted to ask me?” He takes a second to respond. “You were with Luce for a long time. The fact that $luce.subj $luce.be likely dead doesn’t bother you?” “Luce was my charge. A way to slowly gain Antonio’s complete trust,” Charley replies. “Nothing more.” Parker stares at her for a long time. It makes the hair on the back of her neck prickle. “It doesn’t make you a bad agent if you care,” he says slowly. “I’ve had cases where—” <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Luce was the daughter of one of the most notorious criminals in the Northern Hemisphere,” Charley interrupts. “Yes, but Luce wasn’t a criminal. You can’t tell me you hate her as much as you hated Antonio for what he was,” Parker says. <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ “I’m sorry to interrupt but Luce was the son of one of the most notorious criminals in the Northern Hemisphere,” Charley interrupts. “Yes, but Luce wasn’t a criminal. You can’t tell me you hate him as much as you hated Antonio for what he was,” Parker says. <<else>>\ “I’m sorry to interrupt but Luce was the child of one of the most notorious criminals in the Northern Hemisphere,” Charley interrupts. “Yes, but Luce wasn’t a criminal. You can’t tell me you hate them as much as you hated Antonio for what he was,” Parker says. <</if>>\ Charley checks her watch. “We should head back, Gould will want that report.” “We also need to tell him about that other thing,” Parker says. “He’s not going to like that one bit.” Charley puts her hands on her hips. “No, he will not.” Charley and her partner leave the opulent house bathed in blood. [[◎ Page 141|◎ Page 141*-P1]]

Tommy tries to get you to wrap your head around it but you’re completely at a loss. Charley whatever-her-lastname-is used you to get close to your Pa? That fucking cunt. Oh, you’re going to tackle her the next time you see her. No one makes a fool out of you. While you’re seething and mentally imagining ways to get back at her, like spitting in her toothpaste or deporting her, you arrive at a town. It takes several more minutes of swerving past cars to make it down the winding road and into the entrance to the town. Cars line the streets and people walk along leisurely as if life is still normal. As if everything hasn’t changed. You don’t know if you want anyone to pick up your call. You don’t think you can handle to hear what you’re dreading. Tommy goes down back roads leading to seedier parts of the town before you spot a pay phone and ask him to stop. “Do you have any coins?” you ask. "Not Italian,” he says. <<set $tom to true>> You shake your head and step out. You see an older man sipping on a chilled drink of juice and plaster on your best smile, smoothing down your hair and adjusting your clothes. Hopefully you don't look too much like a disaster. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “Sí? Come posso aiutarla?” the old man asks. <<else>>\ “Sí? Come posso aiutarlo?” the old man asks. <</if>>\ <<if $studies is "languages">>\ You know Italian. You didn’t take four years of languages to sit on your ass. It always came so easily to you to know one romance language and learn the rest or at least get a solid grasp and Italian was the first one you learned. <<set $italian to true>>\ <<set $spanish to true>>\ <<set $brazilian to true>>\ <<set $french to true>>\ [[◎ Page 143|◎ Page 143-P1]] <<else>>\ You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Can speak Italian|◎ Page 143-P1][$italian to true]] [[Can understand it|◎ Page 143-P1][$slightitalian to true]] [[Don’t speak nor understand it|◎ Page 143-P1][$noitalian to true]] <</if>>\

<<if $cardeal>>\ You both shoot each other at the same time. You hit him in the stomach and he gets you on the shoulder. You fall backward, expecting to land on soft grass but you feel nothing behind you as your eyes veer to the sky and your body plummets off the cliff and down into the water, landing with a splash that surely breaks some bones. Before you can scream from pain, water fills your mouth and you start choking. The blood from your gunshot wound spills into the water like ink. Too much is happening all at once for you to even think of swimming. The water is warm, you note. Lovely for a summer’s climate. You wonder where you are. You don’t know how long you spend like that. Just letting yourself get swept away by the water. When you feel something slip by your leg, you jerk out of your idleness and start swimming. The bright sun lights the water like crystals. You break through the surface and look around. The water is calm and you see the shore but it’s too close the Greco’s house. But you have little choice. Maybe if you can get further down the shore it’ll be too far for them to see you? Especially now that Dante’s been shot. With your weakened shoulder you struggle to swim quickly. You know that you’re losing a lot of blood. Your body has been through so much. You don’t know if you’ll be able to even make it. You’re so tired that your brain shuts off its inner voice and you just keep swimming, not even looking at where you’re going. The world through your eyes is hazy. At times you feel you black out only to reawaken still swimming. The people on shore don’t look any closer than they were. So small… You feel a wave come over you and drag you underneath the water and somehow you can’t manage to care. The water caresses you in such warmth that your eyes grow heavy. How beautiful. <<if $pastime is 'swimming'>>\ What keeps you afloat so long is how good of a swimmer you are. But even that can’t go against the bloodloss. <<else>>\ Maybe if you were a better swimmer this could’ve turned out differently, but you’re losing too much blood for that to matter. <</if>>\ The lady who finds Luce, at first thinks with how $luce.subj dressed that $luce.subj fell off a party boat. Too much chest exposure and remnants of makeup around $luce.possAdj eyes makes the lady second guess about aiding a young $luce.noun who washes up on shore. She doesn’t agree with the lifestyle of sinners and this generation of children seem to want to ruin the world their parents have sweated blood to give to them. Oh, kids like this drunk party $luce.noun wouldn’t last a day living the live she life as a teenager. But, she is a God-fearing woman. This child, misguided as $luce.subj $luce.be, with $luce.possAdj semi-nudity, makeup and gunshot wound—God knows who $luce.subj pissed off—is rather $luce.adj and such cuteness should not meet death just yet. The lady has to resist the urge to take in every stray puppy she finds on the streets. Her husband forbade it. She wraps her shawl around her shoulders and caresses Luce’s forehead. She notes that $luce.possAdj forehead is hot to the touch. <<print $luce.be.toUpperFirst()>> are likely catching a fever because of that bullet wound. “Giulia, we must go,” her husband, Edoardo urges. The older couple decided to go to the beach today as an activity to do after a severe rough-patch with Edoardo’s wandering eye. Giulia has been asking to go to the beach for months, her husband never allows her to go alone, yet he never wants to go. Nowadays, he’s doing everything to get on her good side. She looks up sharply at him, “This $luce.noun is wounded and if we leave $luce.obj here $luce.willCon die.” Edoardo looks around, many beach-goers are looking at the body and the elder couple. “Precisely. The child is shot. How do you think $luce.subj got that? No one gets shot in Italy and thrown to the fishes without messing with something dark. This $luce.noun is likely involved with criminals. We shouldn’t get involved.” Giulia glares at her husband. “So we must not do things just because the mafia terrorizes this land?” Edoardo looks around nervously, “Shhh, Giulia. We are leaving and that is final.” He attempts to grab her arm but she shrugs him off. “Can someone call the ambulance please!?” she yells at the people around. “There’s a telephone at the ice cream shop,” someone replies to her. “Thank you! Yes!” she replies enthusiastically, all while ignoring her husband’s hard look. She forces her husband to carry Luce to the ambulance and to ride in the car with $luce.obj. When they arrive at the hospital, Luce is immediately escorted into surgery for $luce.possAdj bullet wound. Giulia stays for a few hours, occasionally asking any passing nurse for news but all she gets is: “The surgery is still ongoing.” Eventually, her husband wears her down and they leave. Giulia plans to visit the next day but the birth of her grandchild distracts her. She does pray for the soul of that strange and suffering $luce.noun. She hopes $luce.possAdj life will take a turn for the better. <<else>>\ You don’t give them time to react to your words before you step off the cliff and plummet down into the water. From such a height, it’s not pleasant to land in water, your back feels like it breaks upon impact. But you’re proven wrong when you hear bullet sounds and your body flails to get deeper down below. The water is warm and clear, they can see you. So you have little time for respite before breaking through the surface. You look up to see Dante, Carmen and the rest of the goons looking down at you. Dante aims to fire again but Carmen holds out an arm. <<audio "70s" stop>>\ <<audio "ocean" loop play>>\ You don’t waste more time and start swimming, heading away from the shore that had beach-goers yesterday and instead using the rock formations here to guide you away. You start feeling incredibly tired and the temperature begins to feel far warmer than it did before. It’s probably the sun. The stone beneath your fingers guiding you takes a turn and you’re swept into a slow moving gorge between two cliffs. You feel so hot. Too hot. Your gaze starts wavering. Your mind is hazy and you can’t think of anything concretely. You lay on your back and stare up at the sky as the water pulls you along. Your eyes feel so heavy and the sun is so bright. You close your eyes. Yes, just for a moment. You hear distant voices and the water around you is disturbed but you’re too tired to care much. A pair of 12 year old boys—Luigi and Aldo—are playing by the river. They’re skipping rocks, whoever gets the longest skips needs to give the other 10 liras. It’s Aldo’s turn and he throws a rock that skips 10 times before it hits a long drifting in the water. Aldo curses, “Damn. I know it would’ve gone on for longer.” “No it wouldn’t,” Luigi says. “It would!” Aldo argues. “It would not!” Luigi counters. “Would too!” Aldo yells. “Would not!” Luigi yells back and throws his stone to prove to his friend who’s truly the stone master. It skips 10 times before it hits the same log. Luigi curses as Aldo laughs. Luigi grumbles as he looks for a good rock to show Aldo how talented he is. Aldo laughs and looks at the log. As his eyes wander along it’s length, he notes how long and big it is for a log. Aldo squints his eyes, cupping his hands into goggles and really looking. Luigi exclaims, “Aha! This is the rock. You’ll see now, Aldo! When that stupid log passes by, I’ll show you!” Aldo says, “Shush, Luigi!” Luigi shoves him, “Don’t shush me, you’re not my momma.” Aldo ignores him and continues looking at the log. Luigi looks too. “What?” Aldo drops his hands, his squinted eyes opening wide in surprise. “Luigi… go get my papa.” “Why?” Luigi asks and tries to squint too. Aldo elbows him, “Just go! I think that’s a dead body!” Luigi’s eyebrows rise, “Really?” “Yes!” Aldo replies urgently. “Cool!” Luigi says and takes a step closer to the water. “Do you wanna go touch it?” Aldo makes a face. “That’s gross. My mama says we could get sick and that God wouldn’t like it.” Luigi sticks out his tongue. “God can’t //always// be looking, Aldo.” Aldo grumbles impatiently, “Go tell my papa! It’s a sin to not let a body have a proper burial!” “Do you think it’s a body killed by a mafioso?” Luigi asks and continues staring in wonder. Aldo sighs, exasperated, “Fine! I’ll do it.” He runs towards his small home which is only a few meters away from the river. Luigi quickly jumps into the water and splashes forward as he runs towards the body. He has to swim a bit to get to it, luckily it’s not moving fast, this river is pretty calm. When Luigi reaches it, he stops and his mouth falls open. It’s a $luce.noun. Luigi is mesmerized by $luce.possAdj face. He has only ever seen someone that looks like this in the magazines and cinema. Without meaning to, he reaches out a finger and pokes $luce.possAdj cheek. He flinches back when he feels how warm $luce.possAdj skin is. “LUIGI, GET OUT OF THE WATER!” Aldo’s father yells. Luigi jolts and looks over to see Aldo and his father on the shore. Aldo’s father jumps in the water and starts swimming over. Luigi backs a respectful distance away. He can’t wait to brag to Aldo how he touched the body and Aldo didn’t. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 141|◎ Page 141-NO-T-P1]]

<<if $cardeal>>\ There’s an awful taste in your mouth. Medicine. There’s also a disgustingly sterile stench in your nose. Your tongue runs over your mouth to find it dry and cracked. You open your eyes but the brightness makes you close them again. You have to try with one and then with the other. The room you’re in comes to focus. The bright light comes from the sun outside the window. You hear a beeping noise and look over to see a machine. You reach out towards it but stop when you see the needle in your hand. You examine that hand and then the other which has a plastic bracelet around it. You look at what’s printed there. Clearly not your name. You look at the name of where ever you are. ''Ospedale Cinque Terre.'' You take in the rest of the room. The gown you’re wearing. You sigh. A hospital. Your eyes fall on a calendar stapled to the wall. <<audio "ocean" stop>>\ It’s on January 1975 and several days are X’d out. You blink several times as you take in that it’s not New Years Day anymore but January 15th. “What the fuck,” you whisper. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.” The door opens and you tense expecting to see Dante and his men come in with their guns drawn. You pull your blanket as if that could help you. But instead it’s a nurse with a friendly smile and a tray. “Buongiorno,” she chirps. She lays the tray on your lap and sits down on a chair by your bed. You look at the food. It’s bread and some vegetables that look like they came from a can. “Oh God, a poor hospital. Fuck my life,” you groan and bring a pillow to your face. “Stai bene?” the nurse asks. <<if $studies is 'languages'>>\ You know Italian. You didn’t take four years of languages to sit on your ass. It always came so easily to you to know one romance language and learn the rest or at least get a solid grasp and Italian was the first one you learned. <<set $italian to true>>\ <<set $spanish to true>>\ <<set $brazilian to true>>\ <<set $french to true>>\ <<else>>\ You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Are fluent in Italian|◎ Page 142-NO-T-P1][$italian to true]] [[Understand Italian|◎ Page 142-NO-T-P1][$slightitalian to true]] [[Can’t even form a sentence in Italian|◎ Page 142-NO-T-P1][$noitalian to true]] <</if>>\ <<else>>\ The room you’re in comes to focus. The bright light comes from the sun outside the window. You hear a beeping noise and look over to see a machine. You reach out towards it but stop when you see the needle in your hand. You examine that hand and then the other which has a plastic bracelet around it. You look at what’s printed there. Clearly not your name. You look at the name of where ever you are. ''Ospedale Cinque Terre.'' You take in the rest of the room. The gown you’re wearing. You sigh. A hospital. Your eyes fall on a calendar stapled to the wall. It’s on January 1975 and several days are X’d out. You blink several times as you take in that it’s not New Years Day anymore but January 15th. “What the fuck,” you whisper. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.” The door opens and you tense expecting to see Dante and his men come in with their guns drawn. You pull your blanket as if that could help you. But instead it’s a nurse with a friendly smile. “Buongiorno,” she chirps. She sits down on a chair by your bed. She smells of cigarettes and soap. “Oh God, a poor hospital. Fuck my life,” you groan and bring a pillow to your face. The nurse wretches the pillow away from you. She presses her hand to your forehead and makes a sound of slight displeasure. She checks your face and then lifts your arm to examine it. You’re about to ask what her problem is when you feel that your arm is big. Not fat big but swollen like you broke sprained something. <<if $studies is 'languages'>>\ You know Italian. You didn’t take four years of languages to sit on your ass. It always came so easily to you to know one romance language and learn the rest or at least get a solid grasp and Italian was the first one you learned. <<set $italian to true>>\ <<set $spanish to true>>\ <<set $brazilian to true>>\ <<set $french to true>>\ <<else>>\ You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Are fluent in Italian|◎ Page 142-NO-T-P1][$italian to true]] [[Understand Italian|◎ Page 142-NO-T-P1][$slightitalian to true]] [[Can’t even form a sentence in Italian|◎ Page 142-NO-T-P1][$noitalian to true]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\

<<if $cardeal>>\ <<if $italian>>\ “I need a telephone,” you reply in perfect Italian. “Maybe you should eat first,” she replies and coaxes the tray closer. You push it away, “I really need to talk to my family. Please, miss, it’s urgent.” She lets out an exasperated sigh. You plop a piece of mush in your mouth and try not to gag. <<elseif $slightitalian>>\ You make a telephone sign and place it next to your ear, “Call. I need to talk to my family.” She shakes her head and says, “You need to eat.” You reply rather aggressively, “I will eat when I get my fucking phone call.” She seems put off and you try to salvage it with a smile and softer words, “Please, miss. Phone.” She sighs. <<elseif $noitalian>>\ You make a telephone sign and place it next to your ear, “Call. I need to talk to my family.” She shakes her head and says something in Italian. “I don’t understand YOU,” you reply rather aggressively. She seems put off and you try to salvage it with a smile and softer words, “Please, miss. Phone.” She sighs. <</if>>\ She raises a finger and takes a piece of bread off your tray, plopping it into her mouth before leaving the room. You press your head down against the pillow and close your eyes for a moment. You’ve been passed out two weeks. Kind of. Now that you’re fully awake, you do remember coming in and out of it a few times. The faces of the doctor and nurses surrounding you trying to ask you things. The nurse comes in with a telephone that she connects to the wall. She dials the operator for you. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Call Lazlo|◎ Page 143-NO-T-P1][$mafia to true]] [[Call Charley|◎ Page 143-NO-T-P1][$fbi to true]] <<else>>\ <<if $Italian>>\ “What’s wrong? What are you checking for?” you ask in Italian. <<elseif $slightitalian>>\ “What’s wrong? What are you checking for?” you ask in English. <<elseif $noitalian>>\ “What’s wrong? What are you checking for?” you ask in English. <</if>>\ The nurse bites her lip and takes out a small makeup mirror from her pocket. She hands it to you and you bring it to your face. You see the red tiny bumps on your cheeks. You gingerly touch them. They’re warm. The rash almost looks like wings. Butterfly wings. <<set $lupus to true>>\ “I’ve seen this before,” you say more to yourself than the nurse. The swollen arm. How warm your skin is. You’ve seen all of this before. “What do I have?” you ask your voice far too soft your liking. You know but you hope to God you’re wrong. The nurse opens her mouth, a look of pity on her face. She starts talking but you don’t care what she has to say because it’s not true/you don’t understand a word. It’s not like you’d be wrong. What did the doctor say to Ma way back when she first got sick? You weren’t paying attention at the time because all you cared was that Ma was leaving the hospital. But Ma would make you and Bianca have regular check ups. She would jump each time either of you got a fever or started scratching. You feel like time freezes and a deafening roar enters your ears. Your eyes and mind focused on your face. //I’m going to die.// <<if $italian>>\ You snap out of that. You won’t think about this now, later. “Get me a telephone,” you order unkindly. <<else>>\ You make a phone gesture, “NOW.” <</if>>\ The nurse looks at you with a worried expression and you snap your fingers, “RIGHT NOW.” She hurries out of the room. You throw the mirror on the floor where it shatters. You press the balls of your hands into your eye sockets. This can’t be happening to you. The nurse comes back and stops when she sees her mirror you gesture for the telephone. She glares at you but connects it to the wall and hands a white telephone to you. You ring the operator and call... <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Call Lazlo|◎ Page 143-NO-T-P1][$mafia to true]] [[Call Charley|◎ Page 143-NO-T-P1][$fbi to true]] <</if>>\

He makes swirls around the delicate skin of your throat. “We can keep the knife, we can get old school with the meat gloves or—and this is a personal favorite—we can get ol’ sparky out and have you shake like you’re an old bitch with arthritis.” You shake your head. “None! Get the fuck out of here you goddamn psychopath! I’m not one of your pets you jerk off to punching the shit out of.” A sigh escapes Dante’s lips. As you keep babbling, sweat running down the sides of your face, he bites his lip before covering your mouth. You try to move away and he presses the knife closer to your throat, the very throat that’s closing up with anxiety. His hand smells like tobacco and sweat. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Try to bite his hand|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d11 to true]] [[Stay still|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d12 to true]] [[Start crying|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d13 to true]] [[Curse him|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d14 to true]]

<<if $trans is 'breasts are'>>\ <<if $transf>>\ “Are those tits?” he asks, pointing. “No they’re balloons full of helium. What kind of stupid fucking question is that. Of course they’re tits,” you reply annoyed. “You were a guy one time right?” he asks. You icily reply, “Sure.” “Huh,” he says and then bends down to be at eye-level with your chest. He reaches out a hand and you yell, “Don’t you fucking dare, Dante Greco!” He ignores your threat and grasps onto a boob. His callous fingers dig in and lifts it. His eyes shine when he sees the scars underneath. He gently traces the line with his finger. “Fuck,” he whispers. Your eyes widen at the breathlessness in his voice. What the hell is going on? “Why would you be a girl? Good tits but a chick? God,” he comments and drops your tit. He clearly doesn’t expect a response because he goes ahead and begins annoying you once more. “What’s it gonna be then? The knife, my fist or sparky?” You shake your head. “None! Get the fuck out of here you goddamn psychopath! I’m not one of your pets you jerk off to punching the shit out of.” A sigh escapes Dante’s. As you keep babbling, sweat running down the sides of your face he bites his lip before covering your mouth. You try to move away and he presses the knife closer to your throat, the very throat that’s closing up with anxiety. His hand smells like tobacco and sweat. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Try to bite his hand|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d11 to true]] [[Stay still|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d12 to true]] [[Start crying|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d13 to true]] [[Curse him|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d14 to true]] <<elseif $transm>>\ “Are you a chick or a dude?” he asks, his expression puzzled. “I’m a boy,” you state drily. “Why do you have tits then?” he asks. “With your clothes on you look like one but your pecks? You should get some.” “I don’t have to to be a boy,” you reply, your irritation at this line of questioning growing. He looks lost. “How the shit does that work? Are you a tranny or not?” “Torture me instead please,” you groan. He lifts up his hands, “Fine, you asked for it. What do ya want? A knife, my fist or sparky?” You shake your head. “None! I was being sarcastic! Get the fuck out of here you goddamn psychopath! I’m not one of your pets you jerk off to punching the shit out of.” A sigh escapes Dante’s. As you keep babbling, sweat running down the sides of your face he bites his lip before covering your mouth. You try to move away and he presses the knife closer to your throat, the very throat that’s closing up with anxiety. His hand smells like tobacco and sweat. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Try to bite his hand|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d11 to true]] [[Stay still|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d12 to true]] [[Start crying|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d13 to true]] [[Curse him|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d14 to true]] <<else>>\ “<<cycle "$boob">> <<option "Jesus, I didn't know you had a rack on you, Luce. Did Christmas come early?">>” “<<option "I didn't know you had such small tits. Shame, but your nipples are perky. Did Christmas come early?">> Dante jokes. <</cycle>>” You shallow back a brigade of bitter words. He's humiliating you and he knows it. Stupid fucker. “These tits are for the viewing pleasure of someone who deserves it. The entire human population would come before you. The fucking bum who asks for change outside my apartment building would sooner have my tits than you,” you reply with a cold smirk. He scoffs, “Dumb bitch. I’ve seen better.” He yanks your hair until you feel a headache. “Your Mama’s?,” you retort and he yanks until you whimper then lets go. “What’s it gonna be then? The knife, my fist or sparky?” You shake your head. “None! Get the fuck out of here you goddamn psychopath! I’m not one of your pets you jerk off to punching the shit out of.” A sigh escapes Dante’s. As you keep babbling, sweat running down the sides of your face he bites his lip before covering your mouth. You try to move away and he presses the knife closer to your throat, the very throat that’s closing up with anxiety. His hand smells like tobacco and sweat. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Try to bite his hand|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d11 to true]] [[Stay still|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d12 to true]] [[Start crying|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d13 to true]] [[Curse him|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d14 to true]] <</if>>\ <<elseif $trans is 'flat chest is'>>\ <<if $transf>>\ “Are you a chick or a dude?” he asks, his expression puzzled. “I’m a girl,” you state drily. “Why don't you have tits then?” he asks. “With your clothes on you look like one but your tits? You should get some.” “I don’t have to to be a girl,” you reply, your irritation at this line of questioning growing. He looks lost. “How the shit does that work? Are you a tranny or not?” “Torture me instead please,” you groan. He lifts up his hands, “Fine, you asked for it. What do ya want? A knife, my fist or sparky?” You shake your head. “None! I was being sarcastic! Get the fuck out of here you goddamn psychopath! I’m not one of your pets you jerk off to punching the shit out of.” A sigh escapes Dante’s. As you keep babbling, sweat running down the sides of your face he bites his lip before covering your mouth. You try to move away and he presses the knife closer to your throat, the very throat that’s closing up with anxiety. His hand smells like tobacco and sweat. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Try to bite his hand|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d11 to true]] [[Stay still|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d12 to true]] [[Start crying|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d13 to true]] [[Curse him|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d14 to true]] <<elseif $transm>>\ “You had tits once right?” he asks, his expression puzzled. He bends down to stare the scars. “Yes,” you state drily. “Why don't you have tits now?” he asks. “I didn’t like them,” you reply, your irritation at this line of questioning growing. He looks lost. “How the shit does that work? Are you a tranny or not?” “I’m not having this conversation with you of all people,” you say. He reaches out to trace a scar and you glare at him. “Stop it you pervert. Fucking kill me instead.” He lifts up his hands, “Fine, you asked for it. What do ya want? A knife, my fist or sparky?” You shake your head. “None! I was being sarcastic! Get the fuck out of here you goddamn psychopath! I’m not one of your pets you jerk off to punching the shit out of.” A sigh escapes Dante’s. As you keep babbling, sweat running down the sides of your face he bites his lip before covering your mouth. You try to move away and he presses the knife closer to your throat, the very throat that’s closing up with anxiety. His hand smells like tobacco and sweat. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Try to bite his hand|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d11 to true]] [[Stay still|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d12 to true]] [[Start crying|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d13 to true]] [[Curse him|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d14 to true]] <<else>>\ “Are you a chick or a dude?” he asks, his expression puzzled. “I’m a person,” you state drily. “I’m not having this conversation with you of all people,” you say. “Fucking kill me instead.” He lifts up his hands, “Fine, you asked for it. What do ya want? A knife, my fist or sparky?” You shake your head. “None! I was being sarcastic! Get the fuck out of here you goddamn psychopath! I’m not one of your pets you jerk off to punching the shit out of.” A sigh escapes Dante’s. As you keep babbling, sweat running down the sides of your face he bites his lip before covering your mouth. You try to move away and he presses the knife closer to your throat, the very throat that’s closing up with anxiety. His hand smells like tobacco and sweat. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Try to bite his hand|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d11 to true]] [[Stay still|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d12 to true]] [[Start crying|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d13 to true]] [[Curse him|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d14 to true]] <</if>>\ <<elseif $trans is 'bind is'>>\ “What the fuck are you wearing?” he asks. his voice contains no malice but genuine confusion. Before you can stop him, he reaches out and pulls at the wrappings. “Stop that!” you demand. He ignores you and continues pulling, which just makes the bind dig into the skin your back. “Why are you wearing bandages? Do your tits hurt?” “No! I don’t like them, ok?! Now stop fucking pulling, my God!” “Why not, tits are great. The only good thing females have. Also, why do you look like a dude? You were a girl, right? I’m pretty fucking sure,” he says and starts trying to find the way to unwrap it. “Just—Dante! Please—” you start to beg. He looks up at you and pauses. Seeing the desperation on your face makes him raise his eyebrows. Maybe he does have a soul. That is until a cruel smile slips onto his lips and he continues, finding where to unwrap the bind. “Dante,” you say quietly. “Do anything else but not this.” He continues to smile as your bind loosens, “I at least wanna see your tits. Don’t know why you hide them. Most interesting thing about you.” You feel the pressure on your chest disappear as your bags of fat spill out into the sun. Dante licks his lips and sighs, “Nice.” You can barley form a thought as to how disgusting you feel before he stops touching you all together and claps his hands. “What do ya want? A knife, my fist or sparky?” You shake your head. “None! I was being sarcastic! Get the fuck out of here you goddamn psychopath! I’m not one of your pets you jerk off to punching the shit out of.” A sigh escapes Dante’s lips. As you keep babbling, sweat running down the sides of your face, he bites his lip before covering your mouth. You try to move away and he presses the knife closer to your throat, the very throat that’s closing up with anxiety. His hand smells like tobacco and sweat. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Try to bite his hand|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d11 to true]] [[Stay still|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d12 to true]] [[Start crying|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d13 to true]] [[Curse him|◎ Page 86-KIDNAP.17][$d14 to true]] <</if>>\

Dante looks down at your neck, his dark eyes raking in all the bruises he’s left you. “Say, Dante, how do I look? I would say a real mess,” you say innocently. His eyes begin to roam around other marks he’s left you. His hand straining as it clenches into a fist. “You look better like this.” You raise an eyebrow, “Really? I thought I looked hotter on New Year’s eve.” <<if $boobs or $boobyes or $cisf or $nbf>>\ He shakes his head slowly, his eyes blatantly staring at your exposed chest. “Too much glitter, too much makeup. I don’t like dolled up women.” <<else>>\ He shakes his head slowly, his eyes blatantly staring at your exposed chest. “Too much glitter, too much makeup. I don’t like fancy-pants men.” <</if>>\ You tilt your head, a slow seductive smile appearing on your lips, a look you know drives people crazy. “Oh? What do you like then?” His eyes raise to your mouth and you make sure to slowly lick across your lower lip. The fingers on his other hand twitch as his crotch seems to become more noticeable in his tight pants. “I like…” he begins in a deeper tone than what you’ve heard from him, “You like this. Bloody. Bruised. In pain. Screaming. Black eyes and missing hair.” He steps closer and lays his knee against your lap, opening up his crotch at eye-level for you to see the bulge. He grabs the hair at the nape of your neck and roughly pulls your head back to meet his eyes. “I liked when it hurt so bad you were twitching. When your chest would puff up and I could see your nipples harden. Being tortured and fucking aren’t that different,” he whispers and uses his other hand to trace along your chin. Your mouth feels dry. This is a dangerous game you’re playing. “Do you fuck like you torture then?” He smiles. “Even worse.” [[◎ Page 137|◎ Page 137-P2]]

<<audio "dante" loop play>>\ “How?” His callous thumb moves along your bottom lip, pass your teeth and slowly caresses your tongue. “You’re not dead.” It’s hard to talk with your mouth occupied. You know what he wants. But not yet. You have to make him want it. “Do you kill all the people you fuck?” <<if $kissm or $kissf>>\ He shakes his head. “Only the ones I like.” His thumb moves under your tongue and then over again as if he’s exploring. “Didn’t I kiss you?” You pause. You hadn’t remembered that at all. It feels like a life time ago. “Yeah you did.” <<elseif $ballsm>>\ He shakes his head. “Only the ones I like.” His thumb moves under your tongue and then over again as if he’s exploring. “We almost kissed, right?” You pause. You hadn’t remembered that at all. It feels like a life time ago. “I remember kicking you in the balls.” <<elseif $df>>\ He shakes his head. “Only the ones I like.” His thumb moves under your tongue and then over again as if he’s exploring. “We almost kissed, right?” You pause. You hadn’t remembered that at all. It feels like a life time ago. “I remember rejecting you.” <<else>>\ He shakes his head. “Only the ones I like.” His thumb moves under your tongue and then over again as if he’s exploring. “We almost kissed, right?” You pause. You hadn’t remembered that at all. It feels like a life time ago. “You wanted to kiss my cousin.” <</if>>\ He laughs. “Yeah that's right. I didn’t think much of you then.” “Thanks,” you say sourly. “You grew up to be really sexy,” he says and shoves his thumb deeper into your mouth. You start gargling. His eyes hold cruelty as his s gripe of your hair tightens. “I should’ve fucked your brains out sooner.” Spit coats his thumb and floods your mouth, running down your lips. The intrusion of his tongue, the long nail that scrapes against your skin and the taste of salt and flesh make your eyes water. It’s hard to breathe and you can’t pass out. It has to be YOU who’s in control not him. You think of biting his thumb maybe he would let go. Hell, maybe he’d like it. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Bite [Control]|◎ Page 138-P2][$b1 to true]] [[Let him do what he wants [Chaos]|◎ Page 138-P2]]

<<if $b1>>\ You bite down hard. You don’t let go as you feel your teeth piercing his skin. He grunts but makes no move to escape. His eyes drink you in as you bite so hard you start tasting copper. The hand on your head tightens and you cry out, giving him time to withdraw his thumb—in a very unhurried manner. <<set $Control += 1>> He looks at his thumb, the red bite marks are deep. He looks at you and brings his thumb back to your lips to smear his blood on your mouth. <<else>>\ It makes you feel like you’re drowning in your own spit but it feels oddly bearable. Letting him do what he wants to you has been is becoming a well-trodden path these two days. He certainly enjoys it by the small grunt he makes as he releases you. <<set $Chaos += 1>>\ <</if>>\ <<if ["brown","black"].includes($haircolor) and ["brown","black"].includes($eyes)>>\ He lowers himself onto his knees and it’s almost sweet as if he were a normal lover and you his beloved. He takes your face into his hands and says lowly, “You look like my mom. I’ll make sure you won’t be able to walk for a week.” <<else>> <<if ["brown","black"].includes($haircolor) and ["brown","black"].includes($eyes)>>\ He lowers himself onto his knees and it’s almost sweet as if he were a normal lover and you his beloved. He takes your face into his hands and says lowly, “You look like my mom. I’ll make sure you won’t be able to walk for a week.” <<elseif !["brown","black"].includes($haircolor) and !["brown","black"].includes($eyes)>>\ He lowers himself onto his knees and it’s almost sweet as if he were a normal lover and you his beloved. He takes your face into his hands and says lowly, “You don’t look much like Sicilian. Hair and eyes are the wrong color. It’s weird.” <<elseif !["brown","black"].includes($haircolor)>>\ He lowers himself onto his knees and it’s almost sweet as if he were a normal lover and you his beloved. He takes your face into his hands and says lowly, “You almost look like a Sicilian. Hair is the wrong color but the eyes are normal. It’s weird.” <<else>>\ He lowers himself onto his knees and it’s almost sweet as if he were a normal lover and you his beloved. He takes your face into his hands and says lowly, “You kind of look like a Sicilian. Hair is normal but the eyes aren’t. It’s weird.” <</if>>\ Before you can reply with a witty remark he smashes his lips against yours. It’s not a pleasant kiss by a long measure. Dante presses his lips to yours as if he’s trying to break you. His hands dig into your cheeks and make your jaw ache as he tries to force your face down against the ropes binding you. Then he pulls roughly at your lower lip, forcing your mouth open. You gasp, but he swallows the sound as he slips his tongue into your mouth, a wet intruder. He dances around your tongue, barely allowing you to keep up. The pace he sets inside your mouth hurts horribly. He’s not seeking to give you pleasure. He doesn’t care if you like this or not. Somehow—that makes you more willing to take pleasure by force. You take his tongue between your lips and start slurping and sucking. Pulling at it until he has to brace himself by putting his hands on your thighs. His fingers dig into your skin like clamps. It’ll be tender there later. He makes a small noise that thrills the pit in your stomach as you bite down on his tongue. Blood coats your own mouth. He runs his tongue along your teeth and gums as he drinks in his own blood and spits it back into your mouth. It’s grotesque: a kiss full of spit, blood, and pain. <<if $cism or $transf or $nbm>>\ You’re both trying to see how much the other can take while seeking your own arousal. You feel your cock harden and your legs strain against the ropes as you ache to open your legs and allow him in between them. <<else>>\ You’re both trying to see how much the other can take while seeking your own arousal. You feel your pussy tingle and your legs strain against the ropes as you ache to open your legs and allow him in between them. <</if>>\ He breaks the kiss with loud ‘plop’ and bends down to start devouring your neck. [[◎ Page 139|◎ Page 139-P2]]

If you expected his kisses there to be any more gentler than the ones on your lips you're sorely mistaken. He nips, bites, licks and slobbers over the expanse of the delicate skin on your neck. Bathing it in his own saliva as a marker of possession. You’d seen how he kissed before—Dante liked being very shameless at parties with whatever person caught his eye. From your view it always looked disgusting. He did too much with his spit and his hands and everything. God. That was the thing about Dante he was too much of everything. Like a light flare that blinds. There was the world and then there was Dante. He didn’t live in it. It existed around him. Bending to his whims. But you found that being the victim of his attention wasn’t so awful. He was a good kisser if sloppy, but you could tell it was not sloppiness due to inexperience but preference. Dante was like a wild beast in everything; sex included, it seems. He pulls at the skin in the middle of your neck until you make a tiny noise of pain. He releases you and places a wet kiss on the spot. He looks into your eyes, his own very dark and washed with lust. You both breathe heavily into the mouth of the other. <<if $b1>>\ “Take me to bed,” you order him. He doesn’t hesitate to reach behind you and begin undoing the binds. <<else>>\ He reaches behind you and starts loosening the rope. <</if>>\ The rope that keeps your torso tied to the chair falls to the floor and he slowly slides his hands down your legs to undo the rope around your ankles. <<if $b1>>\ You only have a moment of relief before he grabs you by the ropes around your wrists and pulls you up. He leads you out of the room like a dog on a leash. The pull feels oddly nice and you don’t want to think about it. <<else>>\ You only have a moment of relief before he grabs you by the ropes around your wrists and pulls you up. He leads you out of the room like a dog on a leash. You have no choice but to follow him. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 140|◎ Page 140-P2]]

You move along along the contours of his groin. Dipping below where his balls are and planting wet open-mouthed kisses to them. “You’re so good so fucking good,” he moans. You try to unbutton his pants with your teeth but your mouth is too injured. “Dante—” He grabs you by the hair and forces you away from him. His hand is shaking as he stares down at you. Your hair is mussed, your mouth is open and your clothes are ripped. He pulls you up by your hair and you scream. “Fucking slut,” he tells you and throws you on the bed. You feel velvet underneath your fingers and because you’re bound so you can’t sit up and see what he’s doing. You feel his rough fingers on your thighs as he pulls you to the edge and pulls you up by your wrists. His mouth latches onto yours with determination as he presses your hands against his warm and hairy chest. “You’re a dirty little whore, hmmm?” He sits on your lap and kisses you like he doesn’t want to breathe. Like he wants both of you to suffocate in the ultimate orgasm. His tongue is erratic and domineering as it swirls around yours. His cock presses against your stomach as he drinks up the spit rapidly accumulating in your mouth by his savage tongue action. “Going to that party dressed like that, moaning the way you do when I hurt you?” he says in between kissing. It’s a whiplash when he moves away again. You try to catch your breathe but he wretches your mouth open and spits into it. You’re shocked as a thick glob of both of your intermingled saliva coats your tongue. “That’s all you deserve you filthy bitch. Move it around your mouth, taste me,” he says in a breathless voice. You feel a mix of disgust and fascination as you do as he says and move the spit around your mouth. What the ''fuck'' is going on? Your mouth waters at the nastiness of what he’s asking you to do. You could question your sanity but nows not the time. You can't ignore how hard your heart is hammering, how sensitive your skin feels and how much throbbing is going between your legs. Dante smiles quickly and opens his mouth wide. You don’t need to be told what he wants you to do. You gather up the big wad of spit and stick your tongue in his mouth in a feverish slippery kiss. He moans loudly into your mouth. His hands roaming around your body, pulling at your clothes, tearing at you as if he can’t contain himself anymore. “Mine, so fucking sexy and all mine,” he grunts into your mouth. He pushes you back against the bed and then falls into of you. “Mine. Only for me,” he says as he kisses you again and rolls both of you along the bed so you end up on top. You adjust by opening your legs and straddling him. You feel something loosen in your bindings. “This whore is just for me,” he groans, “No other man can have you. No other man can touch you. Mine, mine, mine.” <<if $cisf or $transm or $nbf>>\ His hips buck and his cock presses against your pussy. You start straining your wrists against your ropes. <<else>>\ His hips buck and his cock presses against your own. You start straining your wrists against your ropes. <</if>>\ His mouth is glued to yours and each time you try to sit up he grabs the back of your neck and continues sucking your tongue. He snakes his other hand down your back and squeezes your ass cheek. His other hand snakes to your chest and he tweaks your nipple incredibly hard which makes you grunt into his mouth which he greedily devours. [[◎ Page 142|◎ Page 142-P2]]

You open your eyes and finally take note of your surroundings. The only part of the room you can see is the head board and the table next to the bed. On it there’s a bunch of shit. Porn magazines in the abundance along with some drug paraphernalia you can't decipher from here. You feel as if if you try hard enough you could free one of your hands. There’s a vase at the edge of the table, nearly about to fall off. There’s dead flowers in it and a giant crack that runs from the base to the mouth. It could work. You just need— Dante slaps your ass and you moan into his mouth. The sting makes your legs quiver and he uses your ass to make you grind against his his cock. You feel a pleasurable and frustrating itch. You could almost forget what you’re here for. You could allow yourself to dry hump him wildly at the pace he’s setting for you. You could cum. You could get some enjoyment out of all of this. Your left hand slips from its ropes. <<if $cisf or $transm or $nbf>>\ Dante mumbles incoherent words into your mouth. “All for me… gah… gonna tie you to my bed naked and wet… ugh… my little sex slave,” he moans. <<else>>\ Dante mumbles incoherent words into your mouth. “All for me… gah… gonna tie you to my bed naked and hard… ugh… my little sex slave,” he moans. <</if>>\ You reach over blindly. Dante’s hardened cock is painfully pressed against you. You could feel the wet spot on his pants. “I’m going to fuck you until you bleed.” You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Grab the vase|◎ Page 143-P2][$vase to true]] [[Grab the pillow|◎ Page 143-P2]]

<<if $cardeal>>\ <<set $Seduction += 0.5>>\ <<if $vase>>\ Your mouths make wet noises as you each take turns sucking each others tongues and drinking each others saliva. It spills out of your mouth, coats your cheeks and falls onto him. He makes you hump him faster. “God… fuck!” he says and pulls away from you. He throws his head back and bites his lower lip. His eyes are closed and you can see the strained cords on his neck. He drags you along his hardon as grunts, moans and curses slip past his lips. <<if $cisf or $nbf or $transm>>\ You raise the vase over your head. You ride him and groan at the frustration your pussy feels at the barrier between your genitals. <<elseif $cism or $nbm or $transf>>\ You raise the vase over your head. You ride him and groan at the frustration your cock feels at the barrier between your genitals. <</if>>\ Dante squeezes his eyes and his fingers dig into your ass so hard it feels like his nails are ripping through your clothes. You then bring the vase down over his head. It shatters completely on his face and you freeze. His eyes don't open as his face goes slack and his hand falls from your ass. Blood starts pooling along his hairline. You watch as his breathing calms, his hairy chest rising and falling and his mouth open. You hear a door opening somewhere down the hall and you slide off Dante’s lap. You look around at the bed in panic and start sweeping the vase shards off his face and hair and under the pillows. You bring the blanket up to his chest and then duck under the bed as the door opens. <<else>>\ When you bring the pillow down over his face, he doesn't push you off as you expected. Rather, he brings his other hand to your other ass cheek and starts making you ride him so hard that the head board is slamming against the wall. You press the pillow down. The idiot doesn’t even notice that you’ve freed yourself because he’s so turned on. You hear him grunt in absolute pleasure as you forcefully press the pillow onto his face. You use most of your body weight to make the suffocation go faster as he makes you jump him in a manic pace. “SHIT FUCK GOODAMNIT MOTHER—” he swears into the pillow as you feel his hips buck wildly and a loud moan is heard from beneath your hands. His body lurches and the veins of his throat pulse. He stills. His body goes rigid before he completely slumps down. His hands slip from your body. Your breath is the only sound in the room for a few seconds before you feel how wet it is in between your legs. It’s from him you realize. You take off the pillow and his mouth has fallen open but his eyes are closed. You bring your ear to his mouth and hear a shallow breath. You sigh, you didn’t kill him. You don’t know how to feel about that. You hear a door opening somewhere down the hall and you slide off Dante’s lap. You bring the blanket up to his chest and then duck under the bed as the door opens. <</if>>\ You see a pair of shoes slightly walk on the carpet. A golden anklet shines in the daylight as she walks over to the bed. You feel it dip with her weight. You bite your lower lip and think about an escape plan. Sure you made a deal with this bitch but you don’t thinking she’ll take too kindly to you just knocking out her brother. She slips off the bed and you don’t see her move for a few seconds. She sighs and crouches down to lay her chin against the floor and her eyes meet yours. You’re both silent for a good minute, you staring at her with fear in your eyes and her looking at you like she just caught you after you dropped a plate. You wave pathetically. “Heyyyyyy, Carmen.” “Get out of there, idiot,” she insults you and stands up. [[◎ Page 144|◎ Page 144-P2]] <<else>>\ <<if $vase>>\ You reach for the vase, and when it’s in your grasp you bring it over and push away from Dante’s persistent kisses. He grunts in frustration, “What the fuck are you doing?” He tries to forcefully bring you back down but you keep a hand on his chest. He doesn’t seem to notice you’re freed. His fingers dig into your ass cheek and you yelp. He throws you an hotly angry glare, “Kiss me.” You breathe in and out. You look down at him, shirt in disarray, hair mussed and sweaty. He looks pathetic. “This might kill your last brain cell,” you say. His eyebrows furrow and you lift the vase. You bring it crashing down— Well, you intended to. In that moment the door swung open and you looked. Carmen comes in, pistol up and wastes no time in shooting you. The bullet pierces through your side. You drop the vase and slide off Dante who pushes you away and you fall off the bed. <<else>>\ Your hand lands on the pillow and you bring it over, pushing away from Dante’s persistent kisses. He grunts in frustration, “What the fuck are you doing?” He tries to forcefully bring you back down but you keep a hand on his chest. He doesn’t seem to notice you’re freed. His fingers dig into your ass cheek and you yelp. He throws you an hotly angry glare, “Kiss me.” You breathe in and out. You look down at him, shirt in disarray, hair mussed and sweaty. He looks pathetic. “This might kill your last brain cell,” you say. His eyebrows furrow and you lift the pillow. You bring it down on his face— Well, you intended to. In that moment the door swung open and you looked. Carmen comes in, pistol up and wastes no time in shooting you. The bullet pierces through your side. You drop the pillow and slide off Dante who pushes you away and you fall off the bed. <</if>>\ He gets up and opens a spare drawer. You lay in between his legs as he cocks his gun. You raise a hand, “Dante—” “You were trying to play me you dumb bitch?” he snarls. “No I was—” <<audio "dante" stop>>\ “Save it,” Carmen interrupts, walking over to where her brother stands. She lays an arm on his shoulder. “You’re already dead.” You try to drag yourself away but with another bullet wound and no escape in sight except the siblings and wall you can’t do much. Dante points the pistol at your head. You feel your bladder release. “Please—” The last sound of your life is the same sound your brother, sister and parents heard too. [[◎ Page 144|◎ Page 144-P2]] <</if>>\

<<if $cardeal>>\ You roll your eyes and slip out from under the bed. You try to look like you have some dignity by standing straight and smoothing down your wild hair. But there’s not much you can do about the state of your clothes and well… there’s spit all over your cheeks and mouth. <<audio "dante" stop>>\ Fucking Dante. <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ Carmen looks towards her sleeping brother, “He’s always had a weakness for women.” <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ Carmen looks towards her sleeping brother, “He likes dick as much as I do.” <<else>>\ Carmen looks towards her sleeping brother, “His instincts always lead him to his dick.” <</if>>\ You scratch the back of your neck, “This is the only way I could think of to—” “I almost pity you,” she interjects. “Why?” She looks at you, “You don’t know what you just did for him.” You raise an eyebrow. She smirks, “I hope you like stalkers.” You don’t know what she means and when you’re about to ask when she makes at your outfit. “What are you looking at?” you ask with narrowed eyes. Her smirk stays and she says, “You should change. Get all dolled up for your boyfriend.” You cross your arms, “What the fuck are you talking about Carmen?” She walks towards you and you instinctively move back but she passes you and opens a white door you hadn’t noticed. She comes out soon enough with a mirror and hands it to you. You hesitate before bringing it towards your face. You feel a tiny bit of vomit in your mouth as you see the state of yourself. How could Dante be horny for this? Carmen looks like she’s enjoying this far too much, you throw the mirror away. “I need threads.” She points to Dante’s dresser, “He might have some clean threads there, Dante is messy.” You notice that there’s shirts, pants and underwear on the floor and ever available piece of furniture. <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ You look at what she’s wearing. “I can’t borrow some of your clothes?” “Nope,” she responds. <<else>>\ “I knock him out and then I steal from him? Kind of a dick move.” Carmen gives you a withering look. <</if>>\ She leans over to push her brother’s hair out of his face and then heads towards the door. “You should call your brother.” “With what telep—” “It’s in one of the drawers of the night table,” she replies and leaves, shutting the door. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Call Lazlo|◎ Page 145-P2][$mafia to true]] [[Call Charley|◎ Page 145-P2][$fbi to true]] <<else>>\ You might ask, what was that whole thing about the desert? Perhaps it was a dream. A whisper of another life. Another outcome. Your earthly body was disposed of in an unceremonious and frankly undignified way for someone like you. Certainly, it’s not something you would’ve chosen for yourself. You’re thrown out a truck like a piece of garbage. Your body rots in the Italian summer sun. The flies make home in your fresh wounds. You traumatize a pair of schoolboys who find you. Since no one can identify you, you’re buried in an unmarked grave in a forgotten overgrown cemetery somewhere. The Grecos become the head of the five families, inheriting the territories and legacy of the $surname. In the 80s they are the first to strike a deal with the Colombians to distribute their new product. As the FBI cracks down on the mafia, the Grecos become semi legitimate with a series of investments on Wall Street while selling weapons to the Middle East in the 90s. Dante Greco marries a porn star who tries to take all his money after the divorce. After she mysteriously disappears, Dante remarries multiple times. Each wife suffering through his infidelites and hardcore partying ways. He has a series of children from different women and dies from an overdose in 2010. Carmen Greco never truly achieves her dream of being respected by her father. She spends the rest of her life under her brother’s shadow. But she never liberates herself from the shackles of the men in her life and ends up married to a man far older than her and fixing the messes of him, her father and her brother without acknowledgment or thanks. She dies in a car accident with her drunk husband in 2021. Charley Das continues to work for the FBI for many decades. She still faces discrimination and has to claw her way up the ladder. She never quite gets the recognition she deserves. She obsess over her greater failure by not bringing down the $surname and Grecos herself. She lives for a very long time. Your adopted brother spends the rest of his life looking for you. In spite of it all indicating otherwise, he does not rest and believes you're somewhere, somewhere nice, where he’ll find you. He never does. <h2>//END OF DEMO (?)//</h2> <</if>>\

<<if $mafia>>\ You don’t know how much time you have so you throw water on your face, sniff at Dante’s clothes to see what smells less like cologne, sweat and beer, and then get to dialing. Carmen wasn’t helpful enough to tell you what safe house you should call—you aren’t taking the risk of going out there in case someone other than her sees you—so you start by the ones you remember the most clearly. Your Pa had you memorize them until you blew up at him. “Hello, I would like a person to person call,” you tell the operator. You call the safe-houses in the US first and then Mexico. You don’t know where you are exactly so it makes it hard to eliminate any. As you call you get dressed. You and Dante have different builds and different tastes, you always thought he dressed like a clown. <<cycle '$tempclothes' autoselect>><<option 'You dress in black'>><<option 'You dress in a bright orange shirt and jeans'>><<option 'You dress in his signature red silk shirt and black pants'>><</cycle>>. You sit on the bed and periodically look back at him for signs of any wakefulness. You start getting snippy with the operator because no one is picking up. You dial the number for the safe house in Italy. “Who is this?” You perk up, “Lazlo?” He doesn’t immediately respond, you hear some voices in the background. “Luce?” he asks tentatively. You breathe out a sigh of relief, “Lazlo, it’s me. Holy shit.” “Where are you?” he asks, his voice sounding controlled. You look down at Dante’s drooling face. “The Grecos are keeping me somewhere I don’t—” “She was right,” he says, “Sorry for interrupting you, Luce.” “Who? Carmen?” “Yes, she called us yesterday. I don’t know how she got the number but she told us that she had you. She wouldn’t say anything apart from the fact that if I—we wanted to see you again, we needed to come to Europe,” he explains. You grit your teeth. She knew you would accept. She waited until you were desperate enough. “What else?” “She called us earlier, told us to come to Italy, thank God we were in Spain so we got here quickly,” he replies. “Here?” you ask, “I’m in Italy?” “Yes.” <<if $italy>>\ At least you didn’t go as far as you thought. <<else>>\ You’re way further than you thought, man. <</if>>\ “Did she tell you more?” you ask. “She told us the coordinates of where you are,” he says. You shoot up, “So you’re coming?” “Yes, Luce, I’m coming, I’ll be there soon,” he replies softly. You feel like crying. But you hold it in. “Good, that’s fucking great. I’ll… I’ll be here.” “Luce,” Lazlo says. “Yeah?” <<if $lazloIncest>>\ He sounds reluctant in saying what he wants to say. The other end goes quiet. You’re not much for patience, even for the guy who’s coming to rescue you. But your injuries are a reminder that you wished he was here sooner. “What?” you ask rather bluntly. “Luce, are you ok? Did Dante do anything?” he asks, his voice taking on a tone you recognize from years ago. The last time he spoke to you about Dante. <<else>>\ He sounds reluctant in saying what he wants to say. The other end goes quiet. You’re not much for patience even for the guy who’s coming to rescue you. Your injuries are proof that he took his damn time. “What?” you ask rather bluntly. “Luce, are you ok? Did Dante do anything?” he asks, his voice taking on a tone you don’t recognize. <</if>>\ You still feel his lips on your neck and the taste on him in your mouth. “Nope,” you say confidently. “Apart from the regular shit you’d expect.” Lazlo seems to think about what you said. “He better have not,” he says in a low voice. <<if $lazloIncest>>\ You feel yourself burn with shame and… excitement? You try to not smile at the anger in his voice. <<else>>\ Your eyebrows raise. Since when does Lazlo give a shit? <</if>>\ <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“What does that mean?”|◎ Page 146-P2][$L1 to true]] [[“Ruh-roh, you sound scary.”|◎ Page 146-P2][$L2 to true]] [[“I can take care of myself.”|◎ Page 146-P2][$L3 to true]] [[“Uh, ok?”|◎ Page 146-P2][$L4 to true]] <<elseif $fbi>>\ Carmen doesn’t tell you what to fucking do. No offense—ok some offense to Lazlo—but you don’t think he’s man enough for the job. Charley’s a woman which would be a disadvantage but she’s actually competent. Charley thinks ahead. That’s why she was perfect for you. You never did. She once told you that if you ever separated, to call a special number and she would get to you. Back then you couldn’t possibly think of a reason why she would ever be apart from you. Not in a romantic sense, just in a… Charley will always be there sense. You pick up the phone and request a person-to-person call. You have little hope this will work. Charley gave you that number years ago, when she had been with you for a few months it wouldn’t— “$honorific?” Charley asks. You breath catches for a moment. You didn’t realize how used to her voice you had become. “Radha, it’s me,” you reply, knowing she would understand that name. “You must be in a more ideal scenario than I initially visualized. You are with the Grecos in Italy, yes?” You raise an eyebrow, “How did you know that?” “That doesn’t matter right now, I’ll explain it all to you later. I need you to be waiting for me at the front of whatever building or house you’re being kept in,” she instructs, “When the Grecos siblings see me they won’t hesitate to shoot.” “Cause your my guard, right,” you sigh. “How are you calling me right now?” she asks. You look behind you at Dante’s snoring face, “Um, I had to… I tricked Dante and knocked him out.” Charley doesn’t reply quickly. When she does she says, “Do I want to know how you found yourself in this situation?” You bite your lip. “Uh, I’m very charming, you know that. I’m hot. Dante is a red-blooded American man… it didn’t take much to be honest.” “Ah,” she says simply. “Did I do good?” you ask and roll your eyes for sounding so pathetic. Why do you care what a lowly employee like Charley thinks. “I mean, I did good. Obviously.” “Of course. You used your talents to your advantage, I have always told you to do that and I’m glad,” she says. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“Jinkies. You mean my talent is fucking?”|◎ Page 146-P2][$L5 to true]] [[“Yeah I wasn’t ever listening that much.”|◎ Page 146-P2][$L6 to true]] [[ “Thanks, for being there and trying to get me to listen.”|◎ Page 146-P2][$L7 to true]] [[“Well, cool. Alrighty.”|◎ Page 146-P2]] <</if>>\

<<if $L1>>\ You switch the phone to your other ear as you wait. You think he’s going to take forever to respond and you sigh loudly into the receiver. “I don’t want to think about him hurting you,” he says finally. <<if $lazloIncest>>\ Your eyes widen and your throat feels sandy. <<else>>\ Your eyes widen. ‘What the fuck?’ you mouth silently. <</if>>\ “Try to find a way to get outside, we’ll be there very soon,” he says and hangs up. You eye the receiver, trying to understand what that was all about. <<elseif $L2>>\ “If he hurt you, he would need to fear me, Luce,” he says with a cold tone. <<if $lazloIncest>>\ You feel a smile creep on your face. “Well I’m flattered, redhead,” you reply. Fucking ecstatic, really, that he cares so much. <<else>>\ You feel a smile creep on your face. “Well I’m flattered, redhead,” you reply. <</if>>\ Lazlo coughs into the phone, “I’ll be there soon, be outside, please.” <<if $lazloIncest>>\ You feel a smile creep on your face. “Well I’m flattered, redhead,” you reply. Fucking ecstatic ,really, that he cares so much. You bite your lip. <<else>>\ “Anything you say, my knight in shining armor,” you tease. You hear him sigh in exasperation before hanging up. <</if>>\ <<elseif $L3>>\ “Luce… you don’t know much about this business or who you’re dealing with,” Lazlo says. “You don’t have the experience—” “Fuck experience, I’m still kicking aren’t I? I did that all by myself,” you reply. Lazlo doesn’t respond to that. “We’ll be there soon, find a way to be outside so we can leave quickly.” He hangs up. <<elseif $L4>>\ There’s an awkward lull that makes your skin crawl. “So like are you coming?” “We are. It would make it easier for us if you were already outside when we arrived,” he says. <<if $lazloIncest>>\ “Gotcha,” you say like a little idiot. You clear your throat, “Thanks.” You hear a smile in his voice, “It’s a pleasure.” <<else>>\ “Gotcha.” <</if>>\ He hangs up. <<elseif $L5>>\ “I wouldn’t put it so crudely nor do I presume to know what you did with Dante,” Charley replies neutrally. You squint your eyes mischievously. “Oh you so wanna say I’m a good honey pot. I’m probably the best honey pot.” “Of course Boss. As fun as this conversation has been and I know how lonely you must feel, I need to hang up. I’m not far from you, I just needed to confirm you were still alive. Be ready, please,” she says. “Groovy,” you reply and hang up. You smile, she agreed, you are a honey pot. <<elseif $L6>>\ “Yes, I know.” You raise an eyebrow, “That doesn’t bother you?” “No.” “Huh,” you say. “You’re a strange one, Radha.” “I have been told that before, Boss. As fun as this conversation has been and I know how lonely you must feel, I need to hang up. I’m not far from you, I just needed to confirm you were still alive. Be ready, please,” she says. “Groovy,” you reply and hang up. <<elseif $L7>>\ “Are you alright?” she asks. You make a face, “Why wouldn’t I be? Apart from the obvious,” you gesture to yourself and remember she can’t see. “No reason. You must have gone through a lot in the last 36 hours,” she says. “Nuh doy,” you say. “As fun as this conversation has been and I know how lonely you must feel, I need to hang up. I’m not far from you, I just needed to confirm you were still alive. Be ready, please,” she says. “Groovy,” you reply and hang up. <<else>>\ The line falls silent for both of you. You’re usually so talkative but maybe it’s all the torture or something but you can’t figure out what to say to her. “As fun as this conversation has been and I know how lonely you must feel, I need to hang up. I’m not far from you, I just needed to confirm you were still alive. Be ready, please,” she says. “Groovy,” you reply and hang up. <</if>>\ After hanging up you move around on the bed to face Dante. You watch him for a few seconds. He looks so weird when he’s asleep. He doesn’t look like the guy you know at all. When his face is like this he looks so… innocent? Like a boy who wouldn’t even tell a white lie. You wonder how many people see him like this. It’s obvious he’s a casanova. But he doesn’t strike you as the type to allow people to stay in his bed long after he fucks them. You snort at the fact that the only reason you get to see him like this now is because you almost killed him. Oddly fitting. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Touch him [Control]|◎ Page 147-P2][$Dan1 to true]] [[You want to draw blood [Chaos]|◎ Page 147-P2][$Dan2 to true]] [[You get up|◎ Page 147-P2]]

<<if $Dan1>>\ You reach out a hand and take one his dark locks in between your fingers. It surprises you how soft his hair is. As silky as his shirts. You find the tips of your fingers wandering down the side of his face. His cheeks feel a bit rough with the growing beard he should have if he let it grow out. <<set $Control += 1>> This might be the first time in your life that you’ve looked at Dante Greco and seen the appeal. The bastard is handsome as the devil. He jaw twitches but the door opens and you snatch your hand back. <<elseif $Dan2>>\ You want to rake your hand down his tight facial muscles and feel his blood on your fingers. He likes blood so much? Maybe you should string him up some where it take his until there’s none left. You imagine sliding your nails down his hairy chest all the way to his belly button and then— <<set $Chaos += 1>> You look away. “What is wrong with me?” you ask and stand up. You put a hand on your forehead, it feels warm. Maybe you’re just getting a fever. The door opens as you’re trying to not think about the demonic spirit on the bed. <<else>>\ You keep trying to fix Dante’s clothes to suit you better when the door opens. <</if>>\ Carmen comes in. She’s wearing dark round sunglasses and you can smell that she recently partook in a cigarette. She looks you up and down, her face barely changing as you looks into your eyes. Of course you know the obviously mocking look in her eyes. You’re going to kill her one of these days. “I’m not in the mood for bullshit Carmen, I need to go,” you say and make to pass her but she holds out a hand to block your way. You side eye her and she looks from you to her brother. “How the hell did you seduce him?” “Why?” you ask with a smile on your face, “You want tips?” She scowls at that and throws her hair over her shoulder hitting you in the face. “You look like fresh roadkill, my brother’s tastes have gotten worse.” You stick in the middle finger and push her arm aside, “Get me out of this fucking house why don’t you instead of subjecting me to the Carmen Variety Show.” You open the door and she says, “You should probably start running.” You look over at her, “Why?” She looks over her shoulder at you with a cold smile and then looks over at the bed, “Dante, do you know who did this to you?” That’s all it takes for you to start running down the hall. You nearly slip down the stairs as you’re taking two at a time. You frantically at the identical doors along the hall and further into the house. “Fuck,” you curse. You hear movement above you and you just bolt, not paying attention to where you’re going. You nearly slip on the floor of a bigger room you enter. It has a television, some couches and a table with beer bottles, money and cigarettes. You hear steps on the stairs and you move forward, making a gun underneath the table skitter across the floor. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Grab it|◎ Page 148-P2][$dantesgun to true]] [[Leave it|◎ Page 148-P2]]

<<if $dantesgun>>\ You quickly take it, not knowing why and run deeper into the house. You open a random door and you come into a room with a single bed and sparse furnishings. There’s nothing of note here except that there’s a window wall that faces a long gravelly road with a closed gate. You see a car approaching quickly, dirt rumbling behind it. It’s black and it’s windows are tinted so you can’t see who it is as the car doesn’t slow down as it approaches the gate but speeds up. It smashes through the gate and speeds towards the house. Looks friendly enough to you. <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ “WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?!” Dante screams from somewhere nearby. <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ “WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?!” Dante screams from somewhere nearby. <<else>>\ “WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY?!” Dante screams from somewhere nearby. <</if>>\ <<if $mafia>>\ You look at the door and then at the car that starts slowing down. You lift up the gun you took, pointing at the window. Either it’s Lazlo or it’s not, you’ll need to shoot anyway. <<elseif $fbi>>\ You look at the door and then at the car that starts slowing down. You lift up the gun you took, pointing at the window. Either it’s Charley or it’s not, you’ll need to shoot anyway. <</if>>\ The car gets so close to the house that you take a step back, the gun trembling in your hand. <<if $mafia>>\ It swerves at last minute, turning around. The passenger door opens and you see brilliant red hair in the sun. That’s all it takes for you to point at the window and shoot. It shatters instantly with a loud bang. You cover your ears and wait for it to fall. Lazlo’s whips around to look directly at you. His eyes widen and you can see how his face trembles at seeing you. You let your hands drop and start going to him. <<elseif $fbi>>\ It swerves at last minute, turning around. The driver door opens and you see the long straight jet-black hair that you know like the back of your hand. That’s all it takes for you to point at the window and shoot. It shatters instantly with a loud bang. You cover your ears and wait for it to fall. Her face is impassive as she makes eye contact with you. You let your hands drop and start going to her. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 149|◎ Page 149-P2]] <<else>>\ You open a door and see it’s a bedroom, plain and simple with a neatly made bed and a severe lack of future. You sigh and open the door next to it which happens to be much messier, most of the bedsheets are stripped off, a lamp lies broken on the floor, and most of all there’s a barely dressed woman lying on the bed. The only thing leaving anything to the imagination is the sparkly gold thong she’s wearing. Her makeup is smeared and her hair is fried to shit. You can smell the air —cheap perfume and sex. This girl can’t belong to one of the goons right? That would never be allowed. Dante? It would surely fit his type of woman. You feel oddly offended. You see the Grecos down the hall, Dante’s shirt is unbuttoned and his belt his lose. He’s walking towards you with speed and a dark malicious glint to his eyes. Carmen is right behind him but she walks with a lazy gait, as if this is all too boring for her. You run deeper into the house and as you do you get can’t but think that before Dante was with you he was with a cheap hooker. EW! As if you were the same thing! Obviously, you feel nothing for Dante but also… you’re better than her! <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ Hotter even. He wouldn’t be able to get a better woman in bed than you. The loser. This is what happens when you do charity. Sure, it was under the guise of escaping but those were the best 15 minutes of his life. <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ Your dick is better. Dante has spent too many years fucking women to notice how good he could have it with you. You’re not going to be the one to show him how much of a faggot he is. But you can always lord that over him, that you were his gay awakening. This is what happens when you do charity. Sure, it was under the guise of escaping but those were the best 15 minutes of his life. <<elseif $nbf or $nbm>>\ He will never get someone as good as you in his bed again that’s for sure. You’re about to never touch his dick—even with a ten-foot pole—ever again. This is what happens when you do charity. Sure, it was under the guise of escaping but those were the best 15 minutes of his life. <</if>>\ You open a door and come into a bathroom. You spot a window and the voices behind you make you move on pure instinct. You climb up the toilet and push the window open. You heave yourself up and over, landing on the grass with a thud. You hear Dante’s voice coming closer and you scramble up and start running without thinking. It’s warm, pleasant day as you come up to a gravelly road that leads to a closed gate. You look over your shoulder and see what looks like a front door on the house. “That’s where that fucker was,” you say. You hear tires screeching ahead of you and you look just in time to see a black car with tinted windows coming down the road at full speed. “LUCE!” Dante yells from behind you. You don’t look back as you start bolting for the car. Anything is better than getting caught by him. The black car breaks through the gate and you rush to meet it. You can be pardoned for not thinking as you don’t stop or step aside. Fortunately, the car does it for you. <<if $mafia>>\ You stand in front of you as you look through the windshields and see one of the many goons belonging to your father on the driver’s side and your adopted brother next to him. You smile at Lazlo who’s face softens. <<elseif $fbi>>\ You stand in front of you as you look through the windshields and see the hardened face of your most trusted and loyal companion. Always there to protect you. You could cry if it wasn’t lame. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 149|◎ Page 149-P2]] <</if>>\

<<audio "death" loop play>>\ <<if $mafia>>\ <<if $dantesgun>>\ “Uh uh,” Dante’s voice whispers into your ear as he grabs your arm, twists it behind your back and press you against his chest. You feel his hot breath on your face. He forces you to face him by pointing a gun to your cheek. “Leaving so soon, Luce?” he says, you can almost feel his lips touching yours. “The party’s just started.” You can see Lazlo from the corner of your eye. He’s closer now but isn’t moving. “Dante let me go,” you say in a voice that cracks near the end. He shakes his head in an exaggerated way. He press the barrel of the gun deeper into your cheek and his eyes slowly fall to your lips, “Why would I let you go?” His voice is low, almost like a caress. “We haven’t finished.” You feel your face heating. Lazlo is listening to this. “There’s nothing for us to finish you freak,” you spit. Dante clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Baby, you start talking dirty to me now I’ll take you in front of your brother and his men. Give them a real show.” <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ “Let her go, Dante,” Lazlo says emotionless. Dante gets an annoyed expression on his face. <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ “Let him go, Dante,” Lazlo says emotionless. Dante gets an annoyed expression on his face. <<else>>\ “Let them go, Dante,” Lazlo says emotionless. Dante gets an annoyed expression on his face. <</if>>\ “Laz, you’re kind of interrupting,” Dante replies. “Me and Luce are busy.” “Let Luce go,” Lazlo says. Dante’s fingers tighten around your arm and he looks over at Lazlo. You do so too. You thought he would be pointing a gun at Dante but he’s aiming it at Carmen who stands a few feet away and is leaning on the wall, her arms crossed while chewing gum. [[◎ Page 150|◎ Page 150-P2]] <<else>>\ He opens the door and points his gun behind you. You hear shooting behind your back and Lazlo retaliates. That sets fire under you and you rush to the side of the car, throwing the door open. “LUCE DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING LEAVE ME!” Dante threatens as you see him shooting at the car, shooting at you. He’s barefoot and his clothes aren’t even fixed. The expression on his face is of pure rage. Carmen is a few feet behind him, her gun is lifted lazily. The driver reverses quickly, slamming you back into the seat. Lazlo’s window shatters as Dante gets a hit. <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ “GIVE HER BACK!” Dante demands, running and shooting after the car. <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ “GIVE HIM BACK!” Dante demands, running and shooting after the car. <<else>>\ “GIVE THEM BACK!” Dante demands, running and shooting after the car. <</if>>\ The car’s on the road and the driver throws the wheel to the side as bullet breaks through your window, throwing glass onto you as you cover your face. You hear more shots exchanged as you clean yourself off. The car speeds down the road so fast the air hitting your face makes it hard to breathe. You look over your shoulder at Dante who’s now on the road and is continuing to shoot. You brush the glass out of your hair and off your clothes as you try to catch your breath. [[◎ Page 150|◎ Page 150-P2]] <</if>>\ <<elseif $fbi>>\ <<if $dantesgun>>\ “Uh uh,” Dante’s voice whispers into your ear as he grabs your arm, twists it behind your back and press you against his chest. You feel his hot breath on your face. He forces you to face him by pointing a gun to your cheek. “Leaving so soon, Luce?” he says, you can almost feel his lips touching yours. “The party’s just started.” Charley stands there. To anyone else her pose might look nonchalant as if she wasn’t expecting this but you know her too well. Better than anyone. She has a rigidness to her shoulders and her hand is hovering over the gun she keeps on her hip. Dante looks at Charley, “Huh. Thought you were dead. Of course cockroaches like you never stay dead. You gotta cut off the head too.” “Leave her alone you fuck,” you spit. Dante snorts, “Awww, you defending you little lady guard? That’s very cute.” “Dante you don’t want to escalate things further than they have been,” Charley claims. “If you let my boss leave without bloodshed you can spare yourself annihilation tomorrow.” Dante looks at his sister who’s leaning on the wall and yawning. His smile is comically, he’s having the time of his life. Why? He’s a freak but he seems to giddy to be against Charley. You don’t think they’ve ever met. “Yeah, and who would do that? You and what army?” he asks, pressing your face hard. Charley lays her hand on her gun, “You know what army. The bureau won’t hesitate and I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your awful and useless life in prison.” Your eyebrows furrow. The //bureau?// What is she talking about… sending him to prison, why not just kill him? You know she can. She could shoot him before he said ‘shit.’ <<else>>\ Charley stands there. To anyone else her pose might look nonchalant as if she wasn’t expecting this but you know her too well. Better than anyone. She has a rigidness to her shoulders and her hand is hovering over the gun she keeps on her hip. Dante looks at Charley, “Huh. Thought you were dead. Of course cockroaches like you never stay dead. You gotta cut off the head too.” “Leave her alone you fuck,” you spit. Dante snorts, “Awww, you defending you little lady guard? That’s very cute.” “Dante you don’t want to escalate things further than they have been,” Charley claims. “If you let my boss leave without bloodshed you can spare yourself annihilation tomorrow.” Dante looks at his sister who’s leaning on the wall and yawning. His smile is comically, he’s having the time of his life. Why? He’s a freak but he seems to giddy to be against Charley. You don’t think they’ve ever met. “Yeah, and who would do that? You and what army?” he asks, pressing your face hard. Charley lays her hand on her gun, “You know what army. The bureau won’t hesitate and I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your awful and useless life in prison.” Your eyebrows furrow. The //bureau?// What is she talking about… sending him to prison, why not just kill him? You know she can. She could shoot him before he said ‘shit.’ <</if>> [[◎ Page 150|◎ Page 150-P2]] <</if>>\

<<if $mafia>>\ <<if $dantesgun>>\ Dante looks angrily at both of them. “I dare you to try.” Lazlo expression is serious, baring no amount of hesitation. “If you don’t let Luce go, I’ll have to. You know how this business is, Dante.” Maybe Carmen could care less but you feel the tension of the standoff between the two men. Dante’s arms, clench with barely held back rage while Lazlo looks coldly calm, as if he’s not pointing a gun at a girl he’s known since he was 9. “You’re going to shoot me, Laz?” Carmen asks, her tone flat. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ He doesn’t look at her. “We both have sisters, Dante. You don’t want Carmen hurt and I don’t want Luce hurt.” <<else>>\ He doesn’t look at her. “We both have siblings, Dante. You don’t want Carmen hurt and I don’t want Luce hurt.” <</if>> <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “Who says I’m going to hurt $luce.obj?” Dante asks cheekily as his hand snakes down to grope your breast, squeezing it tightly in his grasp until you groan. <<else>>\ “Who says I’m going to hurt $luce.obj?” Dante asks cheekily as his hand snakes to your crotch, squeezing it tightly in his grasp as you grunt. <</if>>\ <<if $lazloIncest>>\ “Hear that, Lazzy? I think $luce.subj likes where $luce.subj $luce.be,” Dante says with a vicious grin. You want to tell Lazlo that he’s lying. You can’t bear to think what he must think of you right now. That you went to bed with Dante like a cheap hooker. <<else>>\ “Hear that, Lazzy? I think $luce.subj like where $luce.subj $luce.be,” Dante says with a vicious grin. <</if>>\ Lazlo’s face is made of stone while Dante taunts him with you. “I’m head of the family now, and we both know that no one else’s wants matter more than ours. I can’t let $luce.obj stay here. Your father wouldn’t let you keep $luce.obj, we both know that.” Dante doesn’t look convinced out of sheer stubbornness. You feel like a new action figure these two are wrestling over. <<if $lazloIncest>>\ “Look, no one here wants to die, ok? Dante, you don’t want your sister to die and I don’t want my brother to die either” you claim. “I’m hot shit, I get it, but I have to piss, so let’s get a move on gentlemen,” you say with a deadpan tone. Amazing. Even in times of crisis you can surely run your mouth. “Brother,” Dante spits like the word is a slur. “You really think this pervert doesn’t want to fuck you?” Lazlo’s face doesn’t move but you see his hand slightly shake. You look down, your face burning. You __don’t__ want to do this here. <<else>>\ “If you to are going to kill each other get it over with,” you complain. “I’m hot shit, I get it but I have to piss so let’s get a move on gentlemen,” you say with a deadpan tone. Amazing even in times of crisis you can sure run your mouth. <</if>>\ “Dante, let Luce go,” Carmen says. “<<print $luce.subj.toUpperFirst()>> $luce.beNeg worth it.” You glare at her. “Um, yes I am!” Dante’s fingers dig into your skin painfully, his jaw clenches and the gun at your cheek digs in even harder. You feel your teeth are about to shatter. Dante looks from you to his sister then Lazlo, then back to you. His anger only seems grow as he looks into your eyes. He brings his mouth closer to yours, as if wanting to breathe in the air from your mouth. <<if $lazloIncest>>\ He moves as if to kiss you. You still as his lips graze yours. It’s not a kiss. It’s more like he’s feeling your mouth. Wanting to get used to it. You can’t look at Lazlo. You can’t or you’ll die. You want to murder Dante more than you ever have in the past 24 hours. <<else>>\ He moves as if to kiss you. You still as his lips graze yours. It’s not a kiss. It’s more like he’s feeling your mouth. Wanting to get used to it. <</if>>\ You’re in his macabre embrace and his arms are trembling whether from rage or desire you can’t tell. “I was a stupid fuck 10 years ago and I’m going to be a stupid fuck now,” he fumes. He looks back at Lazlo, rage in his eyes before turning back to you and kissing you full on the mouth. He holds you so tightly you can’t escape him. His mouth smothers yours in agonizing kiss that makes your teeth cut your lips. You feel lightheaded and your nose has no room to breathe as he sucks your soul out. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You stomp on his foot|◎ Page 151-P2][$stomp to true]] [[Let him take his fill|◎ Page 151-P2]] <<else>>\ In between gasps you ask, “Where are we going?” “We’re going to the airstrip,” Lazlo replies. “We have to leave this country as fast as possible.” “Where are we going?” you ask, taking off your seatbelt and moving closer to the front seats. Lazlo shakes his head. “Are Ma, Pa and Bee going to meet us there?” Lazlo stills, his eyes on the road. “Luce, we should have this conversation at a later time. On the plane.” You feel a lump form in your throat. The driver who’s also a goon looks pointedly at the road, pretending he’s not here. “Lazlo, where is my family meeting me?” you ask, your words being forced out. You see how his hand tenses against his jeans. “They aren’t Luce.” You start blinking a bit too quickly for your liking. “What do you mean they aren’t? Not today? Tomorrow? The day after?” “Luce right now isn’t the time,” Lazlo says calmly. You slam your hard against the seat, “JUST ANSWER MY FUCKING QUESTION! WHEN?! WHERE?!” Lazlo doesn’t react to your outburst and like a child you petulantly kick at his seat. “WHERE? BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT GONNA TELL ME I WON’T EVER MEET THEM AGAIN, OK?! THAT ISN’T WHAT’S HAPPENING NOW. SO YOU FUCKING—” you cut yourself off and hit his head rest. “YOU FUCKING TELL ME! WHERE IS MY FAMILY?! WHERE DID THEY GO?!” you scream. You scream a lot things you don’t remember. You scream as the hot tears run down your face. You keep asking Lazlo over and over again. But he never answers. <h2>END OF DEMO</h2> <</if>>\ <<elseif $fbi>>\ Dante’s eyes flick back to you. “I think our Luce is confused. Charley //Das// why don’t you tell Luce who $luce.beCon running away with? Don’t you think Luce should know all the facts?” Charley doesn’t react. You look between both of them, confused as hell and what you are beginning to think isn’t something you want to believe. Dante quirks an eyebrow, “No? What are you scared that if Luce knows what you are $luce.subj won’t wanna go with you? Who would trust a person that’s been lying to $luce.obj for year while she smiled to $luce.possAdj face?” Carmen yawns ever louder. “Dante, we don’t have time for this.” He looks over at his sister and says, “I got a fucking fed in front of me you think I’m just gonna let this pig go?” <<set $fbi charley to true>> You feel a shock of electricity run down your spine but you can’t even think about what you feel because Charley uses Dante’s momentary distraction to run over to you and slam her palm into his face. He screams and immediately lets go of you. Carmen takes out her gun the moment her brother falls and Charley points her own at the sister. <<if $dantesgun>>\ “Luce, point the gun at Dante,” Charley orders coldly. You react on instinct and point it at his head. Dante is bleeding profusely from his nose, hit runs down his face and coats his hands. <<else>>\ Charley grabs Dante’s gun and points it at him too, making her have a standoff with both siblings. Dante is bleeding profusely from his nose, hit runs down his face and coats his hands. <</if>>\ “Maybe I’ll take one of your kneecaps for that,” Carmen threatens. “You and I both know that you don’t want hell unleashed. You’re smart Carmen, you can get me back later,” Charley says. Carmen snarls and clicks the safety off her gun. “What if I don’t want to?” Charley starts backing up towards the car and you do too. “Then I overestimated you compared to the men in your life,” she replies. Carmen’s eyes narrow but there’s a twitch to her lips. She doesn’t lower the gun but she doesn’t seem ready to shoot either. You and Charley keep backing up until your by the doors. Dante stops wiping at his nose and gets up. “LUCE WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!” <<if $dantesgun>>\ “Away from this fucking place,” you state and open the car door, with your gun still trained on him. <<else>>\ “Away from this fucking place,” you state and open the car door. <</if>>\ Dante’s face fills with rage. “You think you can get away from me?! You stupid hot shit. No matter where you go I’ll find you. If it takes me years I don’t care I’ll look everywhere. We’re going to be together again, baby.” You don’t bother to say anything, he has that crazed wild bloody smile on his face that means he’s insane enough to mean it. That’s a problem for future you. <<if $dantesgun>>\ You get in the car and Charley does too. You barely close the door before she’s speeding away, faster than you’ve ever seen her drive. <<else>>\ Charley waits until you’re safely inside, before she stops pointing at them and gets in. You barely close the door before she’s speeding away, faster than you’ve ever seen her drive. <</if>>\ You look behind you to see Dante looking directly at you. [[◎ Page 151|◎ Page 151-P2]] <</if>>\

<<audio "death" stop>>\ <<audio "loss" loop play>>\ <<if $mafia>>\ <<if $stomp>>\ You bring it down on his thankfully bare foot and he grunts, letting you go and hopping on one leg. “Fucking—” he moans. You run towards Lazlo who holds out a his arm which he promptly puts around your shoulders. It’s stiff, barely touching your skin. Lazlo doesn’t stop pointing at Carmen as you two back away. You lift up your gun and point it at Dante who’s fallen to the bed, clutching his foot. He’s looking at you and his eyes see the gun. He throws back his head and laughs. For some reason that angers you so you shoot at the floor of the room, near his feet. He stops laughing and looks down at the bullet that’s just marked the floor. He looks back at you and you could say he looks impressed. At least that’s what you think as Lazlo shoves you into the car and follows after. <<else>>\ He lets go and shoves you away. You’re disoriented as you start walking away, like a drunkard you make it to Lazlo who immediately puts an arm around your shoulders. It’s stiff, barely touching your skin. Dante stands there, his hands by his sides, one gun clenched tightly, his eyes on where Lazlo is touching you. <</if>>\ You don’t even finish putting your seatbelt before the car starts speeding away. The driver is one of the many semi-recognizable faces you’ve seen throughout the years. You look behind you and Dante stares after you. The windows are tinted and yet you feel like he’s looking directly at you. Lazlo moves between the seats to sit beside the goon. You have to hold onto the handles of the door as the car swerves roughly onto the road and starts breaking the sound barrier on it. Your heart hammers inside your chest. The car is quiet as you aim to catch your breath. You put the gun on the seat near you and in between gasps ask, “Where are we going?” “We’re going to the airstrip,” Lazlo replies. “We have to leave this country as fast as possible.” “Where are we going?” you ask, taking off your seatbelt and moving closer to the front seats. Lazlo shakes his head. “Are Ma, Pa and Bee going to meet us there?” Lazlo stills, his eyes on the road. “Luce, we should have this conversation at a later time. On the plane.” You feel a lump form in your throat. The driver who’s also a goon looks pointedly at the road, pretending he’s not here. “Lazlo, where is my family meeting me?” you ask, your words being forced out. You see how his hand tenses against his jeans. “They aren’t Luce.” You start blinking a bit too quickly for your liking. “What do you mean they aren’t? Not today? Tomorrow? The day after?” “Luce right now isn’t the time,” Lazlo says calmly. You slam your hard against the seat, “JUST ANSWER MY FUCKING QUESTION! WHEN?! WHERE?!” Lazlo doesn’t react to your outburst and like a child you petulantly kick at his seat. “WHERE? BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT GONNA TELL ME I WON’T EVER MEET THEM AGAIN, OK?! THAT ISN’T WHAT’S HAPPENING NOW. SO YOU FUCKING—” you cut yourself off and hit his head rest. “YOU FUCKING TELL ME! WHERE IS MY FAMILY?! WHERE DID THEY GO?!” you scream. You scream a lot things you don’t remember. You scream as the hot tears run down your face. You keep asking Lazlo over and over again. But he never answers. <<elseif $fbi>>\ You turn back around as Charley speeds down the roads of the hills. It’s quiet. You don’t know what to say to her. You haven’t processed what Dante said. Could he be lying? Charley didn’t deny it… But that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is, “My family. Where are they?” Charley doesn’t reply. “Hello?” you ask, your voice wavering. She doesn’t respond to that either and your eyes feel itchy. “Are you going to tell them where I am? They must be worried,” you ask hopefully. “Luce I don’t know how to tell you this—” You close your eyes, “Please… don’t tell me anything. I don’t want to know.” “Ok, if that’s what you want,” she intones. You roll down the window and stick your head out. “$honorific, that isn’t safe.” You ignore her and stick your head out, crossing your arms and laying your chin on them. Your eyes water and you don’t know if it’s from the wind or not. You shut them tight, cover your ears and pretend that the world is not what it is but what is was, a world in which your family never died. <</if>>\ <h2>END OF DEMO</h2>

<<if $cardeal>>\ Dante scratches his ear. “Yeah and where was that yesterday? Cause it was all ‘please don't hurt me Dante, please?’” he clasps his hands and printers to cry. “‘Wah, wah and wah,’” he moves his fists under his eyes and scrunches up his face. “Ok I get it,” you respond, your cheeks growing warm. He straightens up with a smile, “Is it because of the thing with your parents?” he slides his hand along his throat and drops his tongue out of his mouth, rolls his eyes and pretends to gag. “Thank you for being so sympathetic during this tough time,” you seethe. “My parents aren’t dead.” He raises up his hand, “I said nothing.” Growing impatient you gesture at your ropes, “So are we going or not? I have to actually show you where it is to give it to you.” Dante puts a finger on his lips and ponders, “Do you?” “Yes.” “But do you really?” You sigh. Your body coils with a growing annoyance. Dante is the worst type of person. You can never annoy him but fucking Christ can he get to you and never bore. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Mention his father [Cunning]|◎ Page 137-P3][$st1 to true]] [[Mention his manhood [Intimidation]|◎ Page 137-P3][$st2 to true]] [[Mention his pride [Seduction]|◎ Page 137-P3][$st3 to true]] <<else>>\ “Bullshit,” Dante says. You frown. “Bullshit? What do you mean BULLSHIT?” “Carmen said you would say something to try and get away. I asked while you were being tortured and you didn’t say shit so you’re fucking lying now,” he claims. You pretend to be offended. “Maybe I’m just strong enough to not be a snitch, ever thought of that?” Dante guffaws. “Yeah and I’m president, since we’re talking shit now.” You try to protest but Dante rips at your clothing to take a piece of fabric and shove it in your mouth. That still doesn’t stop you from complaining. Dante calls out to... Teddy? Thiago? Tommy? Whatever. One of the goons, who comes in and starts undoing your binds. You’re so confused when Dante grabs your arm and forces you to follow him. Are they gonna kill you now? You start panicking and try to wriggle out of his grasp but he digs his fingers into your skin even harder. “Come on Luce you look dull, don’t ya want some sunshine?” he asks rhetorically. You don’t have enough time to really inspect your surroundings as you’re lead throughout the house towards what you think is the front of the house. There are many cars parked there but only a few are running. Carmen hangs out of the passenger window, eyeing both of you as you come closer. Dante shoves you in the backseat and climbs in after. The car leaves the property as you struggle to sit up. [[◎ Page 137|◎ Page 137-P3]] <</if>>\

<<if $cardeal>>\ <<if $st1>>\ You reply calmly, “That's why I’m here. Right? Don’t you wanna make Daddy proud?” <<set $Cunning += 0.1>>\ <<elseif $st2>>\ “I knew your balls weren’t big enough,” you sigh and look away. Dante puts his leg on your thigh and forces his crotch up to your face. You can’t move your face without grazing against it. “Don’t they look big from here, bitch?” <<set $Intimidation += 0.1>>\ <<elseif $st3>>\ “Don’t you want to be the guy that gets things done? The one who is trusted enough to complete the job? To be a badass and smart Don?” you ask. <<set $Seduction += 0.1>> <</if>>\ He pushes out his bottom lip, tapping his fingers against it and looking above him. You don’t know if he honestly thinks he looks pensive. “The Thinker’s” mentally handicapped cousin. <<audio "silly" loop play>>\ “Hmmmmmmm,” he says as he paces, eventually going to the window. He turns around swiftly, “Let’s drink to me.” You must look confused because he claps his hands and one of the guards peeks his head in. “Yes, sir?” “Tommy-boy, go get use the beers that are on the top shelf of the fridge and a chair,” Dante orders. He looks at you while he says, “Me and Luce are going to celebrate.” “What is there to celebrate?” He points at himself, “It’s my birthday tomorrow.” You blink, unimpressed. What is he, like 26? “25 years old. You wouldn’t get it being 19, the wisdom I have,” he points at his noggin. “I’m not 19,” you state. “The things I’ve been through would make your poor little itty bitty heart just burst. You gotta have real thick skin and at 19? Your Pa probably tucks you in still,” he continues on. “I’m not 19,” you state again. “But me? I’ve been through blood, tears, sweat, piss, shit and drugs, lots and lots of drugs,” he says, walking to and fro. “Although age is just a number, baby. When I was your age? At 19 I had done more than you’ve done playing pretend.” [[◎ Page 138|◎ Page 138-P3]] <<else>>\ “Did you bring sunscreen?” Carmen asks her brother. “Nah,” he replies. She sighs. He leans forward, “Good thing I got my sister who thinks about everything and loves to take care of me.” He smiles sweetly at her. Carmen tsks and reaches back to lay her hand on his head. “Idiot.” You try to speak but they ignore you. “It’s so quiet now, isn’t it?” Carmen asks. “Except for an annoying little rat who keeps squeaking,” he jokingly responds. You glare at him and he winks in response. “You should’ve sewed $luce.possAdj mouth shut,” she posits. You freeze and Dante laughs. The house you were kept at was on some type of elevation because as the car goes down the road it descends. The area doesn’t look familiar to you. You’re not in the city you go to school in—you might not even be in the same country. You try to ask where you are but it comes out muffled and you’re accumulating a lot of spit in your mouth. You attempt to take the gag out but Dante punches you in the arm each time. You can’t keep track of how many twists and turns the car makes before it arrives at a fairly secluded beach. Everyone in the car gets out, Dante dragging you like you’re a dog. The other cars park next to you and more guards come out. The hot sun makes you start sweating profusely. Carmen leads the way towards small boats on the sand. You notice that she's wearing a two-piece bathing suit that leaves little to the imagination. You can't begin to imagine how that is able to cover as much as it does. Annoyingly, it looks good on her. Carmen looks over at you and gives you a sly smile, you look away. [[◎ Page 138|◎ Page 138-P3]] <</if>>\

<<if $cardeal>>\ “Oh for fucks sake—” you groan. The bodyguard comes back with the chair and two beers. Dante plops the chair down in front of you, turned away and sits down. He uses that ugly ring of his to pop off the caps and makes to hand you the beer. “Cheers to me.” When he remembers your hands are tied he just scoots closer, trying to serve you. You... <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Drink|◎ Page 139-P3][$drinkd to true]] [[Refuse|◎ Page 139-P3]] <<else>>\ You’re thrown into one the boats and the Grecos climb in after you with two of their guards. The boat has a motor that takes a few tries to start. The sun beats down harshly on you. Carmen has a hat that covers the worst of it and Dante seems to be enjoying burning alive. Of course. You look ahead of you to see a yacht out further in the sea. You’re more confused than ever. Are they taking you out for a nice day on the beach? Brother and sister completely ignore you as they chat about how Dante wants to learn how to surf. “I said no,” Carmen replies. “Whyyyyyy?” Dante pouts like a child. “Because you’ll kill yourself,” she says. “I’ve done dangerous shit and haven’t died yet, Sis,” he says. She gives him a look, “Doesn’t mean I want you to test how durable you are. Plus, you always get //really// into something and then drop it. This is just another one of those.” Dante grumbles. <<audio "ocean" loop play>>\ When you get to the yacht, you’re pulled on board and slip on the wet floor, landing on your ass. The guards come on board and take their positions along the boat, rigid and eyeing everything including you. Carmen goes to sit out in the sun, applying a generous amount of sunscreen of her pale skin. Dante strips out of his clothes into his underwear. He walks over to his sister who helps him apply the sunscreen all over as he sighs and complains about it being too much. When he’s sufficiently lathered up, Carmen sits back and takes out a Vogue magazine. Dante stretches, looking around. He seems to remember you and orders one of his to, “Tie $luce.obj.” You scramble up and try to jump off the boat but strong hands pull you back and lead you to the back of the yacht. Tommy gets a rope and ties it to a silver handle and then ties your wrists to the end of the rope. You try to spit the gag out and Dante suddenly remembers that you had it so he rips it out and spit falls out of your mouth. “Gross,” Dante says with an amused grin. [[◎ Page 139|◎ Page 139-P3]] <</if>>\

<<if $cardeal>>\ <<if $drinkd>>\ The beer doesn’t taste too bad if you’re honest. Clearly, not the cheap shit. You’re surprised that Dante would give you this and not piss in a bottle. <<else>>\ He still forces it down your throat until you cough. <</if>>\ Dante tips his head back and chugs the beer. Quite a bit of slides down his lips and coats his shirt. He breathes heavily as if someone’s about to take it from him. When he gets to the end he smacks his lips and makes a loud ‘AH’ noise. He looks at the bottle, “Have you ever had Stroh’s before?” You shake your head. You didn’t know. You never paid attention to the names. He holds out the label to you. “It’s a pale lager, 4.5% ABV. I would say it does have that crispy taste, it feels light but I swear I can taste a bit of sweetness there, like an aftertaste I would say. I really like a beer that can balance it well.” Maybe it’s because he’s boring you, but you start to yawn. He looks at the label. “It’s got the label going for it. I like lions. Any time a beer has an animal on it I’ll try it. It’s groovy.” You’re eyelids feel heavy. You look at the window. It’s too early to feel this sleepy. [[◎ Page 140|◎ Page 140-P3]] <<else>>\ “What are we doing here?” you ask angrily. “A fucking day in the sun?” “We’re starting my birthday celebration early, $dname. I wanted to go to the beach and I wanted my favourite toy to come with me,” he says and pinches your cheek. “Killing me outright wouldn’t be easier?” “Where’s the fun in that?” Carmen comments as she flips through her magazine. Dante shrugs happily and without preamble shoves you into the water. You choke as water enters your open mouth. You don’t have time to adjust as you start getting pulled, your arms extending out as the yacht starts pulling along the water. You attempt to keep your head above water but with the waves the boat creates it’s not so easy. Dante opens a cold beer and laughs as you try to prevent yourself from drinking up more water. Carmen glances over at you with a bored expression and goes back to her magazine. “IT’S HOT ISN’T IT LUCE?” Dante asks, “Nice of us to give you a cooling down huh?” You can’t even swear at him because you’ll risk more water choking you. Oh my God, you probably look dumb as fuck. The yacht pulls you around in a circle, going fast so if the water isn’t trying to drown you it’s slapping you in the face. Your arms ache as they’re pulled, the rope digs into your wrists with a scorching sensation that you think will surely leave permanent marks. Dante hands beers out to his men and they all watch you. Usually guards don’t emote but these ones laugh with Dante whether out of fear or they genuinely think you look hilarious. Around and around you go, to the point where you become disoriented and it becomes harder to keep your head up. Maybe this is the plan, for you to die. Someone turns on the radio and Italian disco starts playing, which is what makes Dante lose interest in you and start dancing. [[◎ Page 140|◎ Page 140-P3]] <</if>>\

<<if $cardeal>>\ Maybe your body just needs more rest to recover from everything. “I fucking hate those beers that just have the word beer on them. How boring can ya get? The average American likes sludge, that's why everyone’s a fatty nowadays…” he trails off. Although his mouth is still moving. It’s just that his words sound further and further away. Your body feels so heavy. You feel yourself loosen. The ceiling might be moving. Everything has a sort of soft look to it. How nice. [[◎ Page 141|◎ Page 141-P3]] <<else>>\ A guard hands Carmen a Bloody Mary she sips as she discards the Vogue and lays down in the sun. They seem to grow bored with you and act like this a normal party day. You might not be the first person they’ve tied to the back of a yacht. It’s too much for you to endure, you’re not strong enough to keep your head up and you find your neck starts cramping. You face plant into the water a few times as your body threatens to shut down. “Brother, $luce.beCon depressing me,” Carmen sighs. Dante stops drinking and climbs over to the rope. He watches you for a few seconds and you hope the hatred in your eyes is clear to him. He smiles, “It was nice knowing ya Luce.” He unties the rope and you’re pushed back by the speed of the boat. You go under as your body finally can rest. Your arms are killing you. You descend deeper into the water. Inwardly you still have that spark to swim but God your body doesn’t want to cooperate. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Swim upwards|◎ Page 141-P3][$swimu to true]] [[Swim downwards|◎ Page 141-P3]] <</if>>\

<<if $cardeal>>\ The vibration against your cheek makes you wake up with a jolt. You hit your head on something and groan as you slam backwards. You think the chair wouldn’t be able to handle it and you’d go tumbling again but the chair feels sturdy, and comfy and much bigger— You look around. The seats. The steering wheel. Dante gesticulating to the driver about something in the front seat. You can see the ocean in the distance, divided by the cliffs. The twinkling stars are numerous. The car hums lightly under you. You cheek stings. Dante looks over at you and smiles, “Sleeping beauty awakens again. Sorry about the slap but I thought you were never going to wake up.” You try to move but your hands are still tied and your feet bound. You note that your hands are now tied in front of you. You roll your shoulders, sighing at the relief you feel finally being free of your position. “Where are we going?” you ask. <<audio "silly" stop>>\ He smiles mischievously, “It’s a surprise. That's why I had to drug you.” You nod, “Of course you did.” You look outside the window and frown. You don’t recognize any of this. [[◎ Page 142|◎ Page 142-P3]] <<else>>\ <<if $swimu>>\ You try to undo the ropes from your hands as you push the little energy you have into going upwards. You feel blood rushing to your head and it’s get darker. You keep pushing, trying to feebly get your weak legs to propel you to the surface. Yet, try as you might, the sun never gets closer. Your body washes onshore a few days later. Ruining a nice family barbecue. Most of your clothes in tatters and something or various somethings have nibbled at you. Your glassy eyes stare up at nothing. Word gets to Lazlo Fischer that you had been found. He couldn’t bare to identify your body himself. He laid you to rest with the rest of your family and swore revenge on the Grecos. What followed next was five years of bloody war with Lazlo coming out victorious. But with heavy loses. He was never the same, he lost that aspect of himself that gave him his humanity because in avenging you he became unrecognizable. He went on to become a weapons dealer while refusing to make deals with the new heads of the booming cocaine business. He remained long after they had been wiped out by the DEA. He ruled with an iron fist until he conceived a son that took his place. A son born out of necessity, one Lazlo could never quite understand. Lazlo died after a drive-by assassination was made on him in front of his home in 2012. <h2>END OF DEMO</h2> <<else>>\ You don’t know why, call it your sixth sense but you feel you need to swim downwards and so you flip yourself around and move your tired legs as much as you can as you untie your ropes. Once you free yourself, you use your sore arms to push yourself upwards towards the bright surface you now see. You break through the water with a loud inhale. You cough up water and your eyes water. You look around, the water is still disturbed by the waves the yacht made but you can’t see it. You must’ve been flipped around when you were thrown off. You see the shore. It’s far, especially with how tired you are, but your will to live is stronger. You suck it up and start swimming towards a beach that’s become more crowded with people. <<if $pastime is 'swimming'>>\ It still takes you a while in spite of the fact that you’re a really good swimmer. You have to rest at times but your recovery period is quick and when you do finally touch the sand you fall to your hands and knees and focus on breathing. You could be worse. All those swimming sessions paid off, huh? You can hear various voices crowd around you and many hands touching your face. <<else>>\ It takes you a while. You have to keep stopping to rest your body and catch your breath. You were never much of a swimmer. When your feet finally meet the sand you collapse. But you don’t pass out. You can hear various voices crowd around you and many hands touching your face. <</if>>\ They’re all speaking rapid-fire Italian. Your ears are too clogged to even make out what they’re saying. They help you up and offer you a water bottle which you greedily chug even though your stomach is full of water. When they try to take you somewhere you swat them away. “I can fucking… I don’t need your help,” you say harshly in English. You love being pampered but hate being made to feel pathetic; you look like a drowned rat so it’s definitely the latter they’re doing. You walk away from the many worried faces of beach-goers who follow you with their eyes as you walk towards the nearest shop, resolute in your steps and confident in spite of the sand in your hair. You find an ice cream shop and care little about pushing the kids in line aside as you go to the counter. The boy there looks stunned but before he can speak you say, “I need a telephone. It’s urgent.” He looks lost as his eyes travel up and down. You growl, “Do you understand me or not?!” “Y-yes,” he says in accented English. He doesn’t move but his Adam’s apple sure does. You slam your hand on the counter, “Today Damiano!” The boy places the phone on the counter and reaches for the receiver which you snatch out of his hands and start a person-to-person call with the operator. Who do you call? <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Lazlo|◎ Page 142-P3][$mafia to true]] [[Charley|◎ Page 142-P3][$fbi to true]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\

<<if $cardeal>>\ The car is winding down along a cliff, the rock on one side and the sea on the other. The landscape is rocky and hilly. Overgrown grass spills onto the road. There’s not many cars you see ahead of you. <<audio "mafiasilly" loop play>>\ “Dante… where are we?” He bites his lips, “That’s the fun part $dname. We’re on an adventure. I told my father that I couldn’t be in Cinque Terre without trying out its many delicacies.” Your eyes widen. “And where the hell is Cinque Terre?!” Dante rolls his eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic… we’re in Italy duh. Just far from the major cities. That's why your little plan wasn’t going to work because you’re fucking stupid if you think I’m taking you on a plane. You’ll try to crash it like the crazy bitch you are.” You slump back in your seat. “So we’re not getting the folder?” “We already have our guys looking through your apartment. If it’s not there you can just tell us where else to look,” Dante shrugs. “You don’t need to go.” “I can’t,” you whisper. If you keep insisting that you need to go he’ll just think you’ve been lying. Which you have, fucking folder. “What if I have it somewhere hidden?” “Our guys are good, anywhere registered under your name, we’ll find. Apartment, locker, car, your porn stash under your bed, anywhere.” You feel more defeated as he talks. Of course it couldn’t be this easy. Of course you wouldn’t get to slip away for help. Of course the nosedive your life has taken in the last 48 hours won’t end here. “Also,” he looks you up and down, you want to cover yourself with your hands and he laughs as if he knows that’s what you’re thinking, “Carmen threw you some threads there. You look like you’ve been tortured for two days by a psycho with a gun.” He smiles cheekily at his own joke. You thought Carmen was going to help. [[◎ Page 143|◎ Page 143-P3]] <<else>>\ <<audio "ocean" stop>>\ <<audio "loss" loop play>>\ <<if $mafia>>\ You get lucky—seems odd since technically you being in this situation with a teenage boy looking at you with a mix of fear and interest is all due to how unlucky you are—that the first safe house you call is the first one that answers. You thank your Pa’s foresight in forcing you to remember these numbers by heart. “Hello?” Lazlo’s voice asks. “Lazlo, it’s Luce, I need you to track this call or whatever the fuc—wait,” you say and turn to the boy, “Where are we?” “Cinque Terre,” he responds with a squeaky voice that shows he’s still going through puberty. He’s probably 16. “Cinque Terre,” you say back into the phone, “Come here as quick as you can.” “Luce, you’re alive?” Lazlo asks softly. <<if $lazloIncest>>\ You roll your eyes, “Lazlo, we can talk and hug and cry and be all kumbaya later. I need you here in case these assholes spot me.” You look behind you at the road. “Sorry,” you add. “I’m just fucking scared they’ll find me.” “I’m just relieved you’re ok,” he says with a chuckle. You feel your face heat. You love his laugh. “I’m so fucking happy you’re ok too.” <<else>>\ You roll your eyes, “Lazlo, we can talk and hug and cry and be all kumbaya later. I need you here in case these assholes spot me.” You look behind you at the road. <</if>>\ Lazlo takes a moment to reply, “Ok. Cinque Terre, fortunately we aren’t that far.” “Great, I’m at an ice cream shop called…” you look at the sign, “Signore Gelato.” “Alright… Luce about your parents and sister,” he begins. You stop him. “Don’t. Not now. I can’t… deal with //that// now. Later.” “Ok, I’ll be there soon,” he says. “I’m glad you’re safe.” <<if $lazloIncest>>\ “Hardly safe. Come quick, bro,” you say and hang up. <<else>>\ “Hardly safe. See ya,” you say and hang up. <</if>>\ You walk away from the boy and go behind the shop to allow you to be hidden from the road while also being allowed to peek around it and look to see when Lazlo is coming. You can also check the sea to see if the yacht is close. You lean back against the wall and bear the sun. It’s better than drowning. You bring your knees up to your chest and and force yourself to not cry. <h2>END OF DEMO</h2> <<elseif $fbi>>\ Charley gave you a number to call if you were ever separated from her. You hope she’s still alive to answer. The call barely rings before her clipped voice replies, “$honorific.” “Charley, I’m exposed here. I’m at a place called Signore Gelato. You need to—” “I know where you are,” she replies. “I’ll be there in less than 10 minutes.” “How did you—nevermind. You can tell me when you get here,” you say. “Yes. Goodbye,” she replies and you hang up. The boy offers you an ice cream, which you take and throw it on the ground before sitting down under the counter and waiting. You ignore the urge to hug her because she’s here and she’ll take care of you. You cross your arms across your chest. You clear your throat and push your hair out of your eyes, “About time Charley.” Charley nods and says, “$honorific, before we go I need to tell you something that might change things.” You frown, “I hate change and I’m especially hating it this year. Can we just keep things like this?” She shakes her head, “Unfortunately, no. This will change our relationship but I prefer to be the one to tell you.” You look at her with a puzzled expression, “Tell me what? More bad news?” She momentarily looks down at her belt. “I don’t know how you’ll take it but I think we are past any omissions of truths now,” she unclips something from her belt and holds it up for you to see. On it reads: FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION. “What?” you blink as if you can’t possibly be reading that right. “$name $surname,” Charley says in a voice that sounds far too familiar. “I am officially taking you into custody.” <h2>END OF DEMO</h2> <</if>>\ <</if>>\

’Cause last your heard, letting you get taken by her crazy brother to do whatever his deranged brain comes up with his not your idea of helping you. You look at the clothes sitting next you. You look down at your clothes. They’re practically in tatters. You look like you ask for spare change by dumpsters. You hold up your hands, “How am I supposed to get dressed like this?” Dante blows air out of his mouth. “So annoying, man.” Dante reaches over to undo your ropes. You feel instant relief on your raw skin that quickly goes away when he takes out his gun and points it at your face. “Be a good $luce.noun and don’t try anything stupid. You do and I’ll splatter your pretty brain all over my nice back seat and Ricardo here will have to clean it up.” “Are you going watch me change?” you ask, your eyes narrowing. Dante looks down at your body, this time with a much more dirtier look on his face. “For security measures.” You huff and strip off your clothes. Dante whistles and you angrily ignore him. You hurriedly dress putting on <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[A floral wrap dress|◎ Page 144-P3]] [[A skin tight tank top with bell bottoms|◎ Page 144-P3]] [[A shirt with slacks|◎ Page 144-P3]] [[A sparkly jumpsuit|◎ Page 144-P3]]

“Smokin’ $dname, now be groovy and put on the fur coat,” he instructs, gesturing with his gun. <<if $studies is 'fashion'>>\ You take out a heavy long fur-coat from one of the bags. It looks to be made of some wolf. You think. As if you fucking know animals. <<else>>\ It’s fox fur, rather new if touch is anything to go by. <</if>>\ You put it on and Dante reaches over to tie your hands together again. You realize that with the coat covering your wrists no one will notice the rope. They’ll just think you have a strange posture. Dante grins at seeing your face. “Carmen is the real brain.” “Where is your sister?” you ask. He shrugs, “On a call with Pops. She’s the reason you aren’t dead right now. She told Pops that you could be really valuable.” “How?” Dante doesn’t answer, preferring to turn up the music and start head banging while pointing his gun out the window. You have nothing else to do but look longingly at the world outside. Cinque Terre is beautiful and the town you descend down into is brightly lit, with colourful shops but unpaved streets. Cliffs surround the area as if a part of the charm. The buildings seem stacked on top of each other. There aren’t many cars on the streets, most people seem to be walking. Dante drums his fingers on his pouting lips as he looks around. There’s people around you laughing, kissing, living. It’s barely been 72 hours and yet you feel like you haven’t done that in a while. “THERE!” Dante yells and you jolt. He points to a small little restaurant with an outdoor area that has some tables and chairs. Ricardo parks near the curb and Dante gets out, walking to the restaurant without looking back. Ricardo opens the door for you, not making eye contact and escorts you to follow Dante with a heavy hand on your shoulder that asks for no issues. Dante sits on one of the chairs and slaps his hand against the table. Ricardo pushes you down on the chair next to Dante. A waiter comes bustling out and Dante says in English, “I want six shots.” The waiter raises an eyebrow. Dante looks at him like he’s an idiot, “Six. Shots. Are you retarded or something?” “He clearly doesn’t speak English, Dante,” you say in a bored tone. Dante sighs with exaggerations and flops back into his chair. “Do you know Italian?” <<if $studies is 'languages'>>\ Of course you fucking do. You know Italian. You didn’t take four years of languages to sit on your ass. It always came so easily to you to know one romance language and learn the rest or at least get a solid grasp, and Italian was the first one you learned. <<set $italian to true>>\ <<set $spanish to true>>\ <<set $brazilian to true>>\ <<set $french to true>>\ <<else>>\ <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You do|◎ Page 145-P3][$italian to true]] [[You can understand it only|◎ Page 145-P3][$slightitalian to true]] [[No|◎ Page 145-P3][$noitalian to true]] <</if>>\

<<if $italian>>\ “Do you know Italian?” You give him a cold look and then proceed to reiterate what he said to the waiter in fluent Italian. The waiter nods, writes and it down and says he’ll be right back. Dante barely notices as he’s skimming through the menu. <<elseif $slightitalian>>\ “Nope. Never needed it,” you reply “Me neither,” Dante responds. He looks at the waiter and says, “ALCOHOL. SMALL.” He pretends his fingers are a shot and then mimics throwing it back. The waiter seems to understand and writes it down before leaving. <<elseif $noitalian>>\ “Nope. Never needed it,” you reply “Me neither,” Dante responds. He looks at the waiter and says, “ALCOHOL. SMALL.” He pretends his fingers are a shot and then mimics throwing it back. The waiter seems to understand and writes it down before leaving. <</if>>\ Dante bites at his thumb and randomly points at different plates. “C..acio… e pepe?” he asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer because he immediately asks what this and that is. “Why the fuck is Italian so damn hard? Why is everything written in it?” “Because we’re in Italy you damn asshole,” you murmur, though not low enough for Dante not to eye you. You give him a friendly smile. He takes out his gun and lays it on the table. Your eyes widen and you look around. The waiter comes back with the shots and he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about the gun or the big burly Ricardo who stands with his arms crossed by the car. Dante doesn’t wait for the waiter to finish putting down the shots before swallowing three in one go. He wipes his mouth with his hand and then points at the picture on the menu, “I want this pizza.” The waiter looks and says something in Italian. Dante looks a irritated, “I don’t know what the fuck you just said. I just want this pizza, exactly like this, make it happen!” [[◎ Page 146|◎ Page 146-P3]]

Dante picks up his gun and waves it around for good measure. You have to give props to the waiter for not freaking out at seeing a weapon. He nods and then writes it down before going back in the restaurant. “You see? You don’t need to learn the language when you have this,” he says and pats his gun lovingly. You wish the night was over. “Drink,” Dante commands and slides the last three shots over to you. “I don’t want to,” you say in a tired voice. Dante smiles and taps his gun on the table, “I wasn’t asking Cat. Drink. It’s my birthday celebration and I want you to drink.” You roll your lips. Dante raises his eyebrows at you and you sigh before taking one of the shots and throwing it back. You slam it back down on the table as it burns your throat and makes your eyes water. You drink the other two quickly and Dante slaps the table in approval. Dante waves inside the restaurant for a waiter with the gun in his hand. A waitress comes and Dante asks for 6 more shots. The people inside the restaurant start looking at Dante as he starts talking loudly and gesticulating. “DO THEY DRINK WATER HERE IN ITALY? THESE SHOTS ARE NOTHING! WE’D GET DRUNKER DRINKING GASOLINE! IF WE DON’T GET DRUNK LUCE I’M GOING TO NEED MY TRUSTY JOINT,” he says and takes a rolled joint out of his pocket. It’s thick and smells from where you’re sitting. The waitress comes back with 6 shots and Dante grabs her wrist as she makes to leave; a flirty smile belies his intentions as he says, “You’re a cutie. How about you sit down and celebrate with me?” The waitress looks at you panicked. You don’t do anything. Call it selfish but you don’t want to get into more hot water with Dante, your life is hanging by a thread. Anyway, even if you did say something Dante doesn’t listen to anyone but Carmen. [[◎ Page 147|◎ Page 147-P3]]

Luckily for the waitress she manages to wriggle out of his grasp and with a uncertain smile goes back inside. Dante sighs, “This fucking place. We gotta go to strip club after.” “I don’t even think they have one in this small town,” you comment. Dante groans and decides to take his 3 shots. He nudges you to take yours. You do. All those years of partying hopefully should come in handy and let you maintain a clear head to look for a way to escape. The waiter comes out with the pizza and Dante is already taking a slice before the tray is set down. He takes the slice with his bare hands, not caring for a plate or a napkin. Dante asks for more shots. Dante practically vacuums the pizza up, but he does remember you’re there and hands you a slice. You eat it quickly—you haven’t eaten since your party. You and him take another round of shots. Dante lets out a big burp and then calls loudly for the waiter. He comes rushing and Dante takes a pocket knife and carves a birthday cake into the table and then points to himself. The waiter smiles and throws a thumb up. “I need to go to the bathroom,” you tell Dante at a certain point. “Ricardo will take you,” Dante slurs. Ricardo, hearing his name, walks over to the table. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “He’s a man, he can’t come with me to the ladies room,” you say. Dante throws up his hands. “Says who? You forgot I have this,” Dante brandishes his gun. “No one can tell me shit.” <<elseif $cism or $transm or $nbm>>\ “I can go by myself,” you state. “Yeah in your fucking dreams. Either you go with him or piss yourself I don’t care,” Dante replies and you’re sure he wouldn’t. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 148|◎ Page 148-P3]]

You blow out air and stand up, heading to the bathroom. Ricardo follows behind and the patrons inside all stare at you with either fear or judgment because aren’t you here with that lunatic? <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ Fuck them. You push the bathroom door open. Ricardo doesn’t follow you in, look at that, his boss’s orders have their limits. <<elseif $cism or $transm or $nbm>>\ Fuck them. You push the bathroom door open. Ricardo follows you inside, shutting the door behind him and tactly staring at the blank wall opposite him. <</if>>\ Inside, the toilets have seen better days. There’s one dangling light-bulb, one cracked toilet with peeling plastic on the seat and toilet paper that’s creased. You make a face at the smell and go to the mirror. You haven’t seen yourself properly. You don’t look as horrible as you thought. Your hair is messy and your eyes are bruised, you look like you’ve spent a wild night out on the town. You scratch at your skin around the bind and bend down to splash water on your face. This bathroom has no windows so you can’t escape. Ricardo won’t budge. Looks like you’ll have to bind your time, Dante looks like he wants to continue the night so you’ll probably find a better opportunity. You shake your hands and leave the room. Ricardo is faithfully behind you. You catch the eyes of one of the cashiers and you subtly hold up your binds and mouth ‘help’ but she just looks away. When you get back Dante asks you, “Luce, what’s the name of that Italian birthday song?” You give him a puzzled look and Dante rolls his eyes before he starts to sing, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!” at the waiter. The waiter stares at him, uncomprehending, until Dante points the gun at him. The waiter starts singing in badly broken English, while Dante goes inside, drags out the other waiters and with gun pointed, forces them to sing too. They’re all out of tune and none of them can really speak English that well. It’s a stupid display but you see Dante smiling. Dante points the gun at their feet and shoots. The waiters jump and he laughs. You know Dante gets off on torture, but you didn’t know he also didn’t care to humiliate those beneath him in public like this. You thought he had a modicum of control. Dante shoots again and hits the foot of our main waiter, who falls down with a yelp. The patrons inside the restaurant start screaming and rushing out of the establishment, nearly bumping you out of your chair. The waiters also scatter inside the restaurant and out onto the streets. [[◎ Page 149|◎ Page 149-P3]]

Your eyes are as wide as saucers as Dante fires more rounds into the restaurant windows that shatter. <<audio "mafiasilly" stop>>\ He laughs loudly and gets up. He takes you by the fur coat and drags you to the car. “Dante those people will call the police,” you hiss. “It’s Italy, no one is calling the cops cause they’re just like us,” Dante assures you and throws you into the car. Ricardo is already inside and once Dante gets in he says, “Ricardo find me a pimp house.” People are still on the street after that display Dante made. No one seems like they cared. Great, that means if anyone saw your rope ties they wouldn’t call the police. Turns out you were wrong, there is a place for sex here. It’s a shabby building with red lighting and dust covered windows. There’s a sign that shows a pair of lips and a crude drawing of a woman wearing a thong. Dante drags you inside, his movements a bit unsteady after the shots. The interior is as impressive as the exterior, that is, it’s shit. There’s pink lighting inside, smoky air and couches thrown haphazardly around the one room. There are girls there, some of them wearing very short dresses and others, topless. You’ve seen better hookers in New York. Dante sits down at a random couch and forces you to sit next to him. His arm lays behind you and he says, “The music here sucks and the girls look ugly.” “That’s why the lighting is so pink, to make you think you’re fucking something hot,” you reply. Dante looks at you and laughs. You weren’t making a joke but whatever doesn’t set him off in a murderous rage is alright in your book. Dante orders more drinks for a waiter who actually speaks passable English. Dante’s arm slips down from the couch onto your shoulder and he presses you closer. You look at him but he’s too busy eyeing a busty blonde. [[◎ Page 150|◎ Page 150-P3]]

Maybe, just maybe, you could flirt with him. Get on his good side and get him to drink more than you. Maybe with the joint. It wouldn’t be the first time you flirted with someone you weren’t attracted to to get what you wanted. No one could resist you when you put on the charm. <<audio "retro" loop play>>\ That leaves Ricardo who was left outside, guarding the door. But you can figure out a way to evade him after. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“Most of the girls have venereal diseases. You should fuck someone who’d give you the good time without the itchy balls.”|◎ Page 151-P3][$de1 to true]] [[“If you don’t pay attention to me I’ll just escape.”|◎ Page 151-P3][$de2 to true]] [[“Why look at a bunch of smelly fish when you can have caviar?”|◎ Page 151-P3][$de3 to true]]

Dante’s eyebrows shoot up. “Did our torture session knock your brain around? I thought you were going to kill me.” You smile sheepishly, looking down at your lap, “I admit… I was a little out of my mind. I was in extreme pain and it’s embarrassing to be kidnapped. I would’ve said anything.” Dante cocks his head to the side, “Like you could be saying anything right now.” Your smile tenses. “Right. Well, if there’s something true that we both know about me it’s that I like to party. If I’m going to possibly die tomorrow, than I wanna go out with one last groovy night.” Dante stares at you for a long moment. The clientele, the girls and the music seem to recede in the background. You feel a trickle of sweat run down your back and you make yourself believe it’s because it’s hot in here. Dante passes you his joint and says, “Take a hit.” You run your hand through your hair. You’re not a square about this but you don’t know how strong Dante likes it. Fuck it. You put the joint in your mouth and take a random lighter from a nearby table. You light it and inhale deeply. Dante watches you until you blow out and then eagerly takes the joint back from you, putting it in his own mouth. [[◎ Page 152|◎ Page 152-P3]]

An indirect kiss. “Thank God you’re not fucking boring, Luce,” he says and inhales. That’s what begins a night of debauchery. Dante is as hard of a partier as you are. He orders a round of drinks to be brought over, he demands the music to be put on louder and when some of the men eye him because he’s waving his—metaphorical—dick around he lays his gun on his thigh and dares them to try it. Dante forces you to drink. Luckily, you love to drink and have a high tolerance for it. Dante slaps the girls’ asses as they pass and at a certain point his hand lands on your thigh. You think it’s an accident but as he goes on and on about beer—seemingly an interest of his, his hand remains. When a girl takes off her top and jiggles her tits around he squeezes your thigh and leans closer to whisper in your ear. “I bet you could do that,” he says, his alcohol-breath tickling your ear. <<if $boob or $boobyes or $cisf or $trans is 'breasts are'>>\ “My tits are bigger too.” <<else>>\ “I don’t have tits Dante.” <</if>>\ Dante touches your lips with his finger, pressing down on the bottom one, watching it curiously as it moves beneath his nail. His dark eyes bore into yours and you recognize in them what he wants. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Give it to him|◎ Page 153-P3][$kissdd to true]] [[Move away|◎ Page 153-P3]]

<<if $kissdd>>\ You lean forward and your mouth grazes against his before he pulls away with a cocky smile. “I knew you wanted me.” You scowl and scoff, “As if. I just wanted to do some charity.” He looks at you like he doesn’t believe you. “I DID!” He shrugs and raises up his hands. <<else>>\ You clear your throat and pretend to be really interested in the couple making out next to you. “Your loss you prude,” Dante murmurs. <</if>>\ Dante pulls you up and drags you to the makeshift dance floor where he grips your hips and presses you close to his crotch. It’s soft which is fortunate for since Dante isn’t the type to stop himself in public. It’s hard to dance with your hands bound but Dante leads and you can’t say he’s bad at it. Not as good as you obviously. He turns you around and presses your back against his chest, laying his chin on your shoulder. All you can do is sway to the very Italian music. God, you want disco. Dante keeps drinking while you dance, throwing the glasses against the floor every time he finishes one. His movements get clumsier and the staff at the bar eye him with irritation. A younger girl—far too young to be here—passes you while leading a big fat man by the tie. Heading to one of the doors in the back. The man accidentally bumps into you. “Oh, sorry, cutie,” he grumbles with a gross smile. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You flirt|◎ Page 154-P3][$e1 to true]] [[You tell him it’s ok|◎ Page 154-P3][$e2 to true]] [[Get offended|◎ Page 154-P3][$e3 to true]]

<<if $e1>>\ “A cat like you can bump into me at any time,” you say slyly with a lip bite for effect. The man grins at you, leaning closer. <<elseif $e2>>\ “It’s copacetic,” you say with a smile and demeanor you hope Dante registers. <<elseif $e3>>\ “What the fuck? Can’t you see me you big fucking oaf?” you ask. The man’s nostrils flare, “What did you call me you little shit?” “Maybe you can’t hear because of the lard in your ears Dumbo, but watch where you’re going!” The man moves closer to you, ready to smack you. <</if>>\ A shot rings out as Dante shoots the man in the leg. <<audio "retro" stop>>\ <<audio "shots" loop play>>\ The girl that’s with him screams and drops to the floor. Some of the patrons start rushing out of the building, the other girls hide behind couches while the staff start throwing things at Dante. One of the clients makes a rush for your captor and he releases you to shoot at him and anyone else. The men who stayed draw their own guns and start shooting. The smoke in the air intensifies and you start coughing as you look around frantically for a place to hide. Ricardo barrels inside and starts shooting at the patrons and you duck to the floor. You try to put your hands over your ears but they’re still bound and your eyes land on the young whore. All this is going you déjà vu. “Is there a way out of here apart from the front door?” you ask, your voice barely audible above the shots. Glasses break above you, shards landing in your hair. The girl’s wide eyes turn teary as she covers her ears and shakes all over. She looks so small. You feel a twinge of shame… just a twinge. But you haven’t gotten this fair without doing what it takes, right? <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Grab her arm|◎ Page 155-P3][$girl1 to true]] [[Pull her hair|◎ Page 155-P3][$girl2 to true]] [[Scream at her|◎ Page 155-P3][$girl3 to true]]

<<if $girl1>>\ It’s hard with your hands being tied but you grab her arm and dig your ten nails into her soft skin. She makes a little squeal of pain. “Need. To. Leave. Outside. Now.” Your voice is heartless as you force those words out between gritted teeth. The girl starts crying and you bite your tongue hard before digging your nails into her skin even harder. <<elseif $girl2>>\ You grab her blond hair with both hands and pull hard. She screams. “Need. To. Leave. Outside. Now.” Your voice is heartless as you force those words out between gritted teeth. The girl starts crying and you bite your tongue hard before yanking her hair. <<elseif $girl3>>\ “Hey, wake the fuck up! I don’t have time for your shit!” “Need. To. Leave. Outside. Now.” Your voice is heartless as you force those words out between gritted teeth. The girl starts crying and you bite your tongue hard before screaming at her to respond. <</if>>\ She’s sobbing as she points to the door she was headed for with a shaky finger. You show her your wrists and she doesn’t need much prompting to start undoing your binds, she likely wants you to leave, her loss. The rope slips from your wrists. You don’t waste time and quickly get to your feet, still crouching as you use the smoky air to dash to the door and open it. You close it behind you, still hearing the gunshots and Dante’s delighted screams. It’s a riot as far as he’s concerned. You straighten up and look at the room you’re in. It’s bare. A single bed that has a compression from frequent use, a lamp and a rug. There’s a bowl of condoms on the nightstand. You head over to the window and push it up, it squeaks and it’s a hassle to move it with your alcohol and drug addled brain. Still, you manage to open it far enough to let yourself get through and land on the other side which is the back of the building. Ahead of you lies a grassy field that leads upward and disappears into the hills. The gunshots still ring distantly behind you. “Luce where the fuck are you?!” Ok, look and gawk time is over. You run towards the hills, not knowing where they lead but anything is better than what you just came from. Your injured leg isn’t the most reliable and it aches as you run up the hills of the town. You have to bite your lip to keep from screaming as you hobble your way. The grass here is tall and wild. Enough for you to get lost within the hills for now. You slow down when you’re sufficiently deep in the nature of Cinque Terre and you stop, bad idea, your leg shoots a sharp pain up your thigh and you double over. Tears prickle at the edges of your squeezed shut eyes as you cover your mouth and lay on the grass. You rock yourself as the pain augments and silently cry into your hands. It’s so horrible that it distracts your mind from the anxiety you feel over being potentially found. You’re so focused on the sensation of rocking that you don’t even notice when the pain becomes bearable. You don’t notice when you fall asleep. [[◎ Page 156|◎ Page 156-P3]]

<<audio "shots" stop>>\ You don’t dream, at least you don’t think you do. The hot sun bears down on your eyelids and wakes you up. You groan and whine for a second before pushing yourself up and looking around. You’re still here, passed out on a field, that’s good. There’s grass in your hair and you shiver with the thought that maybe insects slithered on your during the night. Your brand new clothes are soaked through with sweat and cling to your slick skin like an additional layer. You wipe your forehead and push yourself up. The pain in your leg flares up again and you fall on your ass with a yelp. “Fuck.” You look around for anything you could use as a walking stick but the area around you is just grass. Your throat feels raspy and your stomach grumbles. You realize you have no choice and this nightmare is far from over. You once again push yourself up and nearly collapse due to the pain but you don’t fall. It takes a lot of effort to stand up and even more to walk, you have to put most of your weight on your other leg and practically hop along the hill. You’re still yourself so of course you internally curse how stupid you look. Just another thing to add to the list of things the Grecos will pay for. Hopping down the hill you see a beach with its fair share of people. There’s music drifting from a nearby shop. You hope Dante doesn’t feel like sunbathing today. It takes you a while to even get on the sand with how you’re moving and you attract a few stares that you give the finger to. You stop when you reach the beach and look at the shop. From the drawing of the happy cone it looks like an ice cream shop. There’s a boy there, barely younger than you who’s serving a couple of rowdy kids. He wears a stupid hat and smiles as he talks to them. Who the hell likes kids? You would of course wait your turn in line but these are special circumstances so you push past the kids who yell, “Hey it’s not your turn!” You hop up to the counter and the kid’s smile lessens as he sees you. “Do you speak English or Italian? I need a payphone,” you say, breathless. [[◎ Page 157|◎ Page 157-P3]]

<<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ The boy—Paul as his name tag suggests—silently gulps and asks, “Are you ok miss?” in heavily accented English. <<elseif $cism or $transm or $nbm>>\ The boy—Paul as his name tag suggests—silently gulps and asks, “Are you ok sir?” in heavily accented English. <</if>>\ <<audio "ocean" loop play>>\ “I need to call someone, do you have a phone or not?” you ask impatiently. Paul cheeks redden as he looks down. “I’m not supposed to allow customers to use it if they can’t pay,” he replies. You curse loudly, “Shit!” The kids behind you giggle and start repeating the word. Paul bites his lip before saying, “But I want to help you.” You stop swearing and your eyes widen for a brief second. You look at him, his shy smile and red cheeks. Oh, he must have a crush. You should expect this by now, even looking like you spent the night in the wilderness you still look like hot shit. You smile and lean on the counter, close enough where Paul gets a panicked look in his eyes. Softly, you say, “I would //really// appreciate it if you helped me.” You reach over and lay your hand on his arm. You see him panic even further. “Could you?” you ask, squeezing his arm. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ His Adam’s apple bobs. “Y… yes I can. Right away miss.” He even holds up a ‘one moment’ finger for you and disappears inside the shack. How adorable. <<elseif $cism or $transm or $nbm>>\ His Adam’s apple bobs. “Y… yes I can. Right away sir.” He even holds up a ‘one moment’ finger for you and disappears inside the shack. How adorable. <</if>>\ The kids behind you grumble and you shush them. “GELATO! GELATO!” a small boy yells. “SUCK MY DICK!” you yell back and he quiets down. You sigh in relief before the boy starts crying his head off. You groan and cover your ears. Paul comes back the telephone and sees the crying boy. “Sensitive brats,” you offer as an explanation. Paul looks stricken but he waits for you to call. You call… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Lazlo|◎ Page 158-P3][$mafia to true]] [[Charley|◎ Page 158-P3][$fbi to true]]

<<if $mafia>>\ Your Pa made you obsessively memorize the numbers of the safe houses around the world. You start making a series of person to person calls. You don’t know if Lazlo is even alive but you can’t think of anyone else. When you ring for the safe house in Italy, the call picks up and the first thing you hear on the other end is your adopted brother’s voice. “Yes? How did you get this number?” “Lazlo, it’s me.” Your hear him intake his breath. “Luce?” “Yeah. Lazlo listen I’m in a bit of trouble,” you mumble as you look up to see Paul quickly look away. You look around you, apart from the crying kids there’s no suspicious cars behind you. “The Grecos have you, we know,” Lazlo says. “Had,” you correct. “You escaped?” he asks. You nod and realizing he can’t see you, you reply, “Uh huh. I’m in Cinque Terre at a little ice cream shop by the beach called…” “Signore Gelato,” Paul offers. “Signore Gelato. I can’t be so out in the open, you have to get here soon,” you say. “Ok, hold tight. Go to the beach, take off some clothing and try to blend in with the locals and tourists in the mean time,” he instructs. “Lazlo…” “We’re a bit over an hour away on an airplane,” he says. “Lazlo…” “We were told they had you in Italy and thank God that was true,” he continues. “Lazlo.” “Yes?” “Where’s my family?” you ask, your voice gentle. Paul seems to hear you because he turns his back to you and pretends to be sorting spoons. “Luce,” Lazlo says softly. “It’s only me and you.” How crazy that simple words can shatter your world. Maybe Lazlo wanted to prevent the blow from being harsher by saying it that way. But there are no words in the English language that could make this sound any less cruel. <<if $lazloIncest>>\ “I’m getting on the plane now, I’ll be there as fast as I can, I promise. Love you,” Lazlo says but his voice doesn’t matter to you. Nothing does. <<else>>\ “I’m getting on the plane now, I’ll be there as fast as I can, I promise,” Lazlo says but his voice doesn’t matter to you. Nothing does. <</if>>\ <<if $lazloIncest>>\ “Love you,” you reply tiredly and hang up the phone. <<else>>\ “Ok,” you reply montonely and hang up the phone. <</if>>\ “Is everything ok?” Paul asks and holds up a cone. “It’s free of charge.” You take it, and without another word you walk way towards the beach. The cone is clenched in your hand as you hobble towards the shore. You make no note of the beach-goers around you and sit down near the water. You stretch out your injured leg and bring the other one to your chest, resting the cone on there while your hand is still wrapped around it. You look at the soft moving tides. How the sun glitters off the water. You see a middle-aged couple splash each other. The ice cream runs down your fingers and coats your leg. You can sense the rough sand beneath your ass and the merciless sun beating down on you. It all feels like nothing at all. [[◎ Page 159|◎ Page 159-P3]] <<elseif $fbi>>\ Charley will know what to do. She always does. She gave you a special number to call in case of emergencies. Barely a second passed for the line to be picked up and Charley’s neutral yet distinctive voice to ask, “$honorific, is this you?” “Charley! Yes it is—wait… how did you know it was me?” “You’re the only person who has this number,” she responds. You can’t help but feel slightly flattered. “Shit, I’m that special, huh?” She doesn’t reply and you click your tongue. “I know you’re smiling but whatever, I’m calling you because I escaped but they’re still likely on my ass so I need you to get here as fast as possible.” “I’m already in Cinque Terre, $honorific,” she replies. You arch an eyebrow, “How?” “My connections informed me that Dante and Carmen Greco we’re both spotted here. I knew Silvio didn’t have you and you’re far too valuable to be in the hands of low-level employees so I deduced—” You interrupt, “Charley, as much as I like to hear my praises, I’m a sitting duck.” “Yes, of course. Where are you, $honorific?” You told here you were at the Signore Gelato shop by the beach. Paul kept looking at you as you talked to Charley who refused to lose connection with you in case an emergency happened. You turn your back to Paul and whisper, “Any news on my family?” You hear some noises in the background before she responds, “It is not the ideal time to talk about this, $honorific. I do want to tell you but it’s best to wait until we’re at a safer location.” You feel your heart sink. “No one ever says something like that when it’s good news, Radha.” “You’re calling me Radha, that’s good,” she says. “Talk to me about whatever you want.” You feel yourself smile, Charley always says that when she wants to make you feel better. You always take it because it means you can push those future horrible feelings further away. So you tell her about your New Year’s Eve party even though she was there. You hold up the line long enough that the brats leave, but not without sticking their tongues out at you. You do the same. Paul tugs at your coat to give you a cone on the house. You’re too busy talking to tell him you don’t eat ice cream. Still it’s hot. You take off your coat and lick the ice cream as you wait. You’re explaining to Charley the importance of color-coordination when you spot a black vehicle coming down the road. “Is that you?” you ask. “In the black car?” “No. I have a white car,” she replies quickly, “$honorific, hide.” You don’t need to be told twice. You hang up and decide to dunk into the ice cream shop, making Paul jump with surprise as the black car slows to a slow roll as it nears the beach. You can’t remember what color Dante’s car was. “Y… you can’t b…be um in here,” Paul stammers. “Mr. Fiorelli will kill me.” You peek out from behind the wall of the front counter and watch the car stop. It’s tinted windows make it impossible for you to see who’s in there. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “Miss I really need you to leave,” Paul urges. <<elseif $cism or $transm or $nbm>>\ “Sir I really need you to leave,” Paul urges. <</if>>\ You pull him closer to you by the collar of his shirt and press a finger to his lips. “Shhh,” you whisper. Paul’s eyes widen and you feel his body stiffen. You glance at the car and then at him. “Paul, some very dangerous people are after me, ok? If they find me they will kill me, understand?” Paul’s eyebrows almost recede into his hairline. You nod, “Yeah. It’s very serious and I need you to cooperate or else they might start shooting just to get to me and you could die too.” Paul gulps and tries to speak so you… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Kiss him|◎ Page 159-P3][$kissp to true]] [[Knee him in the balls|◎ Page 159-P3]] <</if>>\

<<if $mafia>>\ The water splashes against your feet and you take off your shoes, allowing your toes to feel the cooling sensation after being trapped in shoes for days. A bird flutters near you, landing beside you and looking at the cone. You throw it somewhere away from you and it follows it, munching down on it quickly. You clean your hand in the water and look around. There’s so much noise here. There’s a big family a few feet away from you, parents, grandparents, children all surrounding a grill like the ancient cavemans around a fire. Did your family ever spend a day at the the beach? Probably. It would’ve looked exactly like this except with 10 additional guards. Two siblings of closer age—a boy and a girl are racing back and forth to see who wins this race. The boy yanks the girl by one of her ponytails and she yelps, and attempts to slap him but he dashes past her. That makes you feel worse. Your eyes move away towards a couple who are acting as if they’re all alone and about to shoot a porno. The girl is straggling the guy and he’s gripping her ass as she sticks her tongue down his throat. There’s a tent pinched. Your turn your head back further and see a collection of different types of people, old and young, big and small, barely clothed or… fully. Dante walks onto the beach, wearing the same clothes he was wearing last night, his hair wild and his eyes red with sleeplessness. He doesn’t hide the gun in his hand. If people notice he looks ready to kill they do a good job of hiding it. Several of his men walk around the beach too each of them eyeing people carefully. Is this just a big fucking coincidence? You groan. No. It’s not, the universe just hates you and wants you to get caught. Every bad deed you’ve ever done is coming back in full force. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Strip off your clothes|◎ Page 160-P3][$clothesb to true]] [[Start walking away|◎ Page 160-P3]] <<elseif $fbi>>\ <<if $kissp>>\ You grasp him by the apron and kiss him hard but chastely, you don’t bring your tongue into it. He freezes and it’s fine albeit awkward because he’s as still as a statue. You look at the black car all the while. It finally starts slowly advancing and you quickly reach out an arm to flip the OPEN sign to CLOSED. Dante would be the type to eat ice cream. Your eyes follow the car as it slowly drives by the ice cream shop and then disappears out of sight. You break the kiss and Paul looks dazed, his mouth hanging open and his eyes staring into the void. You sigh and put your head in your hands. You stay like that even though Paul tries to talk to you. It’s too much. All too much. You can’t take this any longer. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ You feel a hand on your shoulder and Paul says, “Miss, there’s—” <<elseif $cism or $transm or $nbm>>\ You feel a hand on your shoulder and Paul says, “Sir, there’s—” <</if>>\ “Oh my God can’t you shut the fuck up?!” you yell and pull your head up to see that the hand that’s on your shoulder belongs to your bodyguard. She looks down at you and a small almost invisible smile is on her face. <<else>>\ He starts gasping as if he’s a fish out of water and doubles over. Dante steps out of the car and you press yourself against the wall and slide down to the floor. You hope he doesn’t come here. You close your eyes and try to pray. But of course you hear him say, “Hey! Is this place open?” Paul is crying, his hands cupping his crotch as he tries to speak. You can’t see Dante’s expression. “So is that a yes? What’s wrong with you? You a pedophile? Do you touch yourself because of the kids? I’m not one to judge but it is disgusting,” he says. Paul shakes his head and weakly asks, “What would you like?” “Uh, chocolate and strawberry and vanilla and mint. All in one cup with nuts and extra sprinkles and chocolate sauce,” he orders. Paul, still cupping himself with one hand goes to make the order. He drops the bottle of sauce and you hand it to him. “You have long arms huh?” Dante asks, with an amused tone to his words. “Y-yes, sir,” Paul responds. “Yeah… or do you have one of those kids down there?” he asks. Paul looks shocked and stammers, “N…no that’s n…not I’m not at all…” Dante laughs, “You look like a guilty man, //Paul.// You know they cut of the cocks off kid diddlers? Better watch out who you molest.” Paul just nods weakly and continues to make the ice cream. It takes an excruciatingly long time, during which you feel each bead of sweat run down your face. Paul adds the sauce and with a shaky hand hands the ice cream over to Dante. “It’ll be 3 liras,” he says. “Here, take the kid you’re molesting out on a date for all their troubles,” Dante snorts. “T.. thank you, sir.” <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ You think he’s finally going to leave when Dante says, “Have you seen a girl around these parts> Nice face. Wearing a fur coat and looking like she hasn’t seen a shower in a week?” <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ You think he’s finally going to leave when Dante says, “Have you seen a boy around these parts? Nice face. Wearing a fur coat and looking like he hasn’t seen a shower in a week?” <<elseif $nbm or $nbf>>\ You think he’s finally going to leave when Dante says, “Have you seen a person around these parts? Nice face. Wearing a fur coat and looking like they haven’t seen a shower in a week?” <</if>>\ You freeze. Your eyes widen and you try to tug on Paul’s pants, trying to subtly plead with him to not say anything. Paul’s eyes flick to yours and Paul sucks on his bottom lip. “Hey, Paul, are you going to answer anytime today or are you retarded?” Dante asks. “No,” Paul says. You close your eyes in relief. “OK, I’ll be seeing you on the news one of these days Paul, bye,” Dante says and you hear his footsteps walking away. You wait where you are until Paul says, “He’s gone.” You stand up, it takes effort and you reach out to grab onto his arm. He lets you and guides you to lean against the counter. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” “For this and for not telling him,” you say. Paul asks, “Why is that guy looking for you?” You shake your head. You lay your head on the counter and breathe in and out as a headache pounds on your forehead. Eventually you feel a hand on your shoulder and a voice says, “$honorific.” You look up and see Charley. <</if>> [[◎ Page 160|◎ Page 160-P3]] <</if>>\

<<audio "loss" loop play>>\ <<if $mafia>>\ <<if $clothesb>>\ You’ll stand out carrying this fur coat. You shed your clothes and sit in your underwear which is not much different than swim clothes. You pretend to be completely carefree and lay back with arms extended. One of the racing kids spots your gun shot wound and points. You give them a glare so strong they run back to their family. You see Dante coming closer to the shore. Good thing that family next to you is so big. You stand up and dust off your ass and legs. Taking your clothes you look up confidently and stride towards the road. Confidence is key, you have it and no one will stop you. It’s worked for you before. You walk past some of the guards and they barely glance at you. It’s not the time but it does offend you, aren’t you hot enough? You’re almost at the road when a car speeds nearly past you and stops with a loud screech. You stop in your tracks and wait to see if it’s Dante’s backup. The door opens and you see the brightest shade of ginger you’ve ever seen. Lazlo’s eyes immediately find yours and your legs move before you can think. He holds out a hand you take it, he leads you inside the car and you close it. When you see him up close he has the widest smile you think you’ve ever seen on his face. “Luce,” he whispers softly, his hand holds yours firmly. You look out the window to see Dante having stopped and plunged into the water. Everything feels so out of place. You look back at Lazlo. His eyes look red too, maybe he didn’t sleep well. He holds your hand in the space between your knees. He looks at you all over. Like he expects something from you. Something Luce would say. Always the showman you say: “Lazlo, my whole family is dead. Happy New Year’s.” <h2>END OF DEMO</h2> <<else>>\ You stand up and dust the sand off your ass. You look sharply away from Dante and start walking. Rather you’re speed walking. Actually, you’re running. You can't help but feel a gun is pointed at your back as you run to the road. “Hey!” a middle-aged lady yells as you shove past her. A car speeds down the road and nearly passes you, stopping with a loud screech. The middle-aged lady has walked up to you and has started ranting in Italian. She’s speaking so quickly you can’t catch a word but she’s probably calling you a brat. Lazlo opens the door of the car and smiles when he sees you. You try to walk over but the lady grabs your arm and continues to yell at you. You pry her hand off. “Leave me alone you old hag!” The lady screeches so loud you have to cover your ears and raises her arm to hit you. You tense for a slap but instead get a sickly sweet shower of blood as a bullet goes through her forehead. She collapses forward and behind you see Dante stalking towards the car, his eyes full of ire as he spots you. Lazlo tugs you back into the car and Dante lifts his gun. The first shot hits the car, close to your head. Lazlo says, “Sorry,” and pushes your head down as he rolls down the window and starts shooting. “Oscar let’s go!” The car lurches forward and gains speed so quickly it makes your stomach lurch. “SON OF A BITCH!” Dante curses. Gunshots fly through the sky and the car gets hit more. Lazlo keeps shooting until you hear a clicking sound and he gets back into his seat. He opens up the gun and adds more bullets, all while looking behind him. You’re still down, laying on the seat. You don’t feel like this is happening. This can’t be real. You still hear gunshots but they come through as if you’re wearing ear muffs. You force your eyes closed. You beg for the sweet release of dreams. The only world where you can still pretend your family is alive and that you aren’t about to die too. Just like always, you block everything out. <h2>END OF DEMO</h2> <</if>>\ <<elseif $fbi>>\ You don’t think. You just do. You get out of the shop and throw your arms around her. You bury your face in her chest. Charley doesn’t hug you back, she finds it inappropriate but you don’t care. She’s here. You’re safe. You hug her for what feels like a long while. She smells of lightly scented chamomile soap. You pull away from her and say, “You made it.” Your smile fades when you realize what you’ve just done. She’s your employee for fuck’s sake. You can’t afford to look desperate. You clear your throat and push your hair out of your eyes, “About time Charley.” Charley nods and says, “$honorific, before we go I need to tell you something that might change things.” You frown, “I hate change and especially hating it this year. Can we just keep things like this?” She shakes her head, “Unfortunately, no. This will change our relationship but I prefer to be the one to tell you.” You look at her with a puzzled expression, “Tell me what? More bad news?” She momentarily looks down at her belt. “I don’t know how you’ll take it but I think we are past any omission of truths now,” she unclips something from her belt and holds it up for you to see. On it reads: FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION. “What?” you blink as if you can’t possibly be reading that write. “$name $surname,” Charley says in a voice that sounds far too familiar. “I am officially taking you into custody.” <h2>END OF DEMO</h2> <</if>>\

<<audio "loss" loop play>>\ <<if $tom>>\ <<if $mafia>>\ You didn’t get any luck with the first call to a safe house in Miami. Neither to the one in Los Angeles or New York. You tried the one in Canada and the other one in Colombia. You finally placed a call to northern Mexico and got a response at the first ring. “Who is this?” a gruff voice asks.  You look around and answer, “It’s Luce. I need to speak to the person with the most authority there.” The man on the other side says, “$honorific Luce?” You hear a voice in the background and there’s a series of rustles before a surprised and elated voice responds, “//Luce, is it really you?//” <<if $lazloIncest>>\ “Lazlo,” you say in the voice you only have for him; his name on your tongue like a cool summer’s day. <<else>>\ “Lazlo,” you say barely recognizing your face nor your feelings of relief at hearing his voice. <</if>>\ He lets out a breath, “//It is you. Thank the Lord. I thought I’d lost you too//.” Suddenly the warm summer air doesn’t feel so warm anymore. You regret saying what you say next. “What do you mean by that?” He doesn’t reply as quickly. You hear his breathing on the other end and you hear yours crackling the static on the phone. “Lazlo, what do you mean by that?” you ask between gritted teeth. “//Luce, tell me where you are and we’ll get a plane out to you right away—//” “Listen, you fucking orphan, tell me what you mean BY THAT?” you scream and the old man who gave you the coins almost drops his juice. The sun is so bright. It’s so unpleasant. You’re intimately aware of the sweat in your armpits. “//Luce… Pa and Ma… Bianca… someone we have in Silvio’s family told us that he had them killed…//” You don’t hear the rest as your knees give out and you collapse to the ground. The phone falls out your hand and your head lays against the pay phone. “//Luce?//” Lazlo’s soft voice comes out of the receiver. The world doesn’t feel real anymore. “//Luce, are you there?//” Is this what it feels like to die? A scorching sun burning your skin. The slow sweat rolling down your face and a painfully growing pit in your chest. How is it that you can feel stabbed without a knife? Life is strange. “//Luce, do you hear me?//” <<elseif $fbi>>\ Charley is the type of woman to think five steps ahead. That’s why she was great on nights when you had an essay due the next day, or when you were drunk off your balls. She gave you a number to call if you were ever separated. Hopefully, she isn’t fucking dead. The telephone starts ringing and you barely manage to think of what you’ll do if she doesn’t answer when the line picks up and she says, “$honorific, it’s you.” “Radha, how’s it going?” you ask, a small smile on your lips. She used to hate when you called her that. “$honorific, it’s going well. I assume you’re calling because you’ve managed to escape from the Grecos. Where in Cinque Terre are you currently?” she questions. “Well, I’m at this little—wait, how did you know where I was?” you ask suspiciously. “I have some contacts I called that are more aware of the Greco family’s movements. I knew you were in Cinque Terre hours after you were taken,” she responds. “Then why didn’t you come for me?” you ask incredulously. “I was being fucking tortured!” “I didn’t have permission,” she says neutrally. “FROM WHO? ME? I’M YOUR BOSS, OBVIOUSLY I GIVE YOU PERMISSION, WHAT THE FUCK?!” you exclaim. The geezer looks away from his newspaper to you. You feel Troy’s eyes on you. “We can discuss that later. Tell me where you are,” she says. “Yeah sure but first I wanna know how my folks are doing and my sister,” you say. “Did they get somewhere safe?” Charley takes a moment to reply. “$honorific, I don’t think it’s logical to tell you this information now.” “What the ''fuck'' does that mean?” you ask angrily. “$honorific, your family was taken by the Grecos as well. Earlier today they were found—” You shake your head. “No they weren’t. They were not and your fucking information is wrong.” “$honorific, I’m sorry.” You shake your head as the tears start forming in your eyes. “You’re not sorry for anything because that isn’t true,” you say softly. “You can’t know that. Not really.” “I can.” You shake your head, and drop the phone as your vision is blinded with tears. You fall to your knees and put your hands over your face. //It’s not true, it can’t be true, it’s not true if I don’t believe it and I don’t.// <</if>>\ <<else>>\ <<if $mafia>>\ You didn’t get any luck with the first call to a safe house in Miami. Neither to the one in Los Angeles or New York. You tried the one in Canada and the other one in Colombia. You finally placed a call to northern Mexico and got a response at the first ring. “Who is this?” a gruff voice asks. You look around and answer, “It’s Luce. I need to speak to the person with the most authority there.” <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ The man on the other side says, “Miss Luce?” <<else>>\ The man on the other side says, “Mr. Luce?” <</if>>\ You hear a voice in the background and there’s a series of rustles before a surprised and elated voice responds, “//Luce, is it really you?//” <<if $lazloIncest>>\ “Lazlo,” you say in the voice you only have for him; his name on your tongue like a cool summer’s day. <<else>>\ “Lazlo,” you say barely recognizing your face nor your feelings of relief at hearing his voice. <</if>>\ He lets out a breath, “//It is you. Thank the Lord. I thought I’d lost you too//.” Suddenly the warm summer air doesn’t feel so warm anymore. You regret saying what you say next. “What do you mean by that?” He doesn’t reply as quickly. You hear his breathing on the other end and you hear yours crackling the phone. “Lazlo what do you mean by that?” you ask between gritted teeth. “//Luce tell me where you are and we’ll get a plane out to you right away—//” “Listen you damn orphan tell me what do you mean BY THAT?” you scream and the old lady raises a critical eyebrow. The sun is so bright. It’s so unpleasant. You’re intimately aware of the sweat in your armpits. “//Luce… Pa and Ma… Bianca… someone we have in Silvio’s family told us that he had them killed…//” You don’t hear the rest as your knees give out and you collapse to the floor. The phone falls out your hand and your head lays against the counter. “//Luce?//” Lazlo’s soft voice comes out of the receiver. The world doesn’t feel real anymore. “//Luce are you there?//” Is this what it feels like to die? A scorching sun melting the paint off the walls. The slow sweat rolling down your face and a painfully growing pit in your chest. How is it that you can feel stabbed without a knife? Life is strange. “//Luce, do you hear me?//” <<elseif $fbi>>\ Charley is the type of woman to think five steps ahead. That’s why she was great on nights when you had an essay due the next day, or when you were drunk off your balls. She gave you a number to call if you were ever separated. Hopefully, she isn’t fucking dead. The telephone starts ringing and you barely manage to think of what you’ll do if she doesn’t answer when the line picks up and she says, “$honorific, it’s you.” “Radha, how’s it going?” you ask, a small smile on your lips. She used to hate when you called her that. “$honorific, it’s going well. I assume you’re calling because you’ve managed to escape from the Grecos. Where in Cinque Terre are you currently?” she questions. “Well, I’m at this little—wait, how did you know where I was?” you ask suspiciously. “I have some contacts I called that are more aware of the Greco family’s movements. I knew you were in Cinque Terre hours after you were taken,” she responds. “Then why didn’t you come for me?” you ask incredulously. “I was being fucking tortured!” “I didn’t have permission,” she says neutrally. “FROM WHO? ME? I’M YOUR BOSS OBVIOUSLY, I GIVE YOU PERMISSION, WHAT THE FUCK?!” you exclaim. The money-hungry lady peers over at you. <<if $fbicharley>>\ You think about calling her out. You should leave it for another time. When you aren’t exposed on the street. But, well, prudence isn’t your strongest trait. “So, dear ''loyal'' Charley when were you going to tell me you’re working The Man or were you just going to make me look like a fucking idiot for the rest of my damn life?” <<else>>\ You think of firing her right now. While still demanding to be rescued. <</if>>\ “We can discuss that later. Tell me where you are,” she says. “Yeah, sure, but first I wanna know how my folks are doing and my sister,” you say. “Did they get somewhere safe?” Charley takes a moment to reply. “$honorific, I don’t think it’s logical to tell you this information now.” “What the ''fuck'' does that mean?” you ask angrily. “$honorific, your family was taken by the Grecos as well. Earlier today they were found—-” You shake your head. “No they weren’t. They were not and your fucking information is wrong.” “$honorific, I’m sorry.” You shake your head as the tears start forming in your eyes. “You’re not sorry for anything because that isn’t true,” you say softly. “You can’t know that. Not really.” “I can.” You shake your head, and drop the phone as your vision is blinded with tears. You fall to your knees and put your hands over your face. //It’s not true, it can’t be true, it’s not true if I don’t believe it, and I don’t.// <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <h2>END OF DEMO</h2>

<<audio "loss" loop play>>\ <<if $mafia>>\ You ring the operator and give her the number for the safe house in Mexico to start. Pa made you memorize the various safe houses your family owns throughout the world in case of an emergency. Annoying at the time, really. It rings and you get a reply almost instantly. “//Yes?//” You’re robbed of words. “//Who is this?//” “Lazlo?” you find your voice. There’s a silence on the other end. “//Luce?//” he asks tentatively. “Yeah.” “//It’s really you?//” <<if $lazloIncest>>\ Hearing his voice, makes you want to break down from holding on to what you’ve been holding on. You want to crawl into his arms. “It is me,” you say softly. <<else>>\ “It is me,” you say softly. The softest way you’ve ever spoken to him. <</if>>\ “//Oh my Lord//,” he sighs, “//Oh my Lord, oh my Lord, Luce. He answered my prayers//.” You don’t know what to do with the emotion in his voice, so in a panic you ask, “Where’s my family?” Lazlo stops repeating the words like a mantra. You feel a heavy stone of dread in your stomach. But so unlike you, you decide to push the bruise. “Lazlo, where is my family?” “//Luce…//” “For fuck’s sake, can’t you give me answer?!” you scream into the phone and the nurse backs away. You hear him expel a shaky breath. “//Luce… I don’t know how to tell you this but—//” You start shaking your head, “No, no, no. You’re not saying what I think you’re saying.” “//Luce, listen, I was in Mexico when it happened, I wanted—//” “No, no, no, you’re lying to me,” you feel your throat grow small. “This is a shitty April fool’s joke, y’know.” “//Luce,//” Lazlo says pleadingly, you hear the shakiness in his voice. “//I wanted to go back for them but it was too late.//” You keep shaking your head. “I don’t believe you.” You feel your eyes prickle. “You don’t know shit.” “//Luce, we need to come get you//,” Lazlo whispers. You keep shaking your head, “No, Lazlo, no. That can’t…. that can’t… they can’t… please tell me it’s not true.” “//I wish I could//,” he answers kindly. “//I wish I was so wrong.//” You let the phone slip out of your hand. Lazlo’s words are meaningless now. Hard sobs wreck your body and you cover your face with your hands. “//Please…//” The nurse tries to touch you but you slap her hands away. “IT’S NOT TRUE.” You keep repeating that over and over again until the words make no sense. <<elseif $fbi>>\ There was a very annoying era where Charley made you memorize a special phone number she had in case something happened and you weren’t together. You blew up the scenario at the time but she had her own tricks to make you remember the number. Thank Vishnu for that. You’re barely waiting for a second before Charley’s voice comes on the other end, “Luce, hello.” “I guess you didn’t give this number to any old riff-raff, any old cat in the alley huh?” you joke because what else could you do? “No, I did not. You sound a bit congested, are you ok?” You shake your head and that hurts. “No, Radha, I’m not ok. I kind of fell off a cliff and it hurts as much as it sounds.” “I tried looking for you but I’m only one woman and the sea is big,” she says. You nod. “Yeah.” Then your eyebrows furrow, “Wait, you knew I was in the water before I called?” “Yes.” You blink and wait for her to continue but she doesn’t. “O…K. I guess I’ll ask you about that later. But, um, I need you to come to the hospital, I don’t know the name let me ask—” “I know the hospital. I was there earlier, I had to go shower back at my hotel but I’ll be there soon,” she replies. You blink several times. Years of knowing her and Charley can still surprise you. “Ok, then. Um, have you talked to my parents or my sister lately?” you ask, pretending to not sound as panicked as you’re beginning to feel. Charley doesn’t reply. “Hello?” you ask, your voice wavering. She doesn’t respond to that either and your eyes feel itchy. “Are you going to tell them where I am? They must be worried,” you ask hopefully. “Luce I don’t know how to tell you this—” You close your eyes, “Please… don’t tell me anything. I don’t want to know.” The phone drops from your hand and you pull the covers over your head and put your hands over you ears as if blocking your senses somehow makes you exist in a world where your family is still alive. <</if>>\ <h2>END OF DEMO</h2>

$luce.subj → she / he / they $luce.subjCap → She / He / They $luce.obj → her / him / them $luce.possAdj → her / his / their $luce.possPro → hers / his / theirs $luce.refl → herself / himself / themselves $luce.be → is / is / are $luce.beNeg → isn't / isn't / aren't $luce.beCon → she's / he's / they're $luce.was → was / was / were $luce.have → has / has / have $luce.haveNeg → hasn't / hasn't / haven't $luce.do → does / does / do $luce.doNeg → doesn't / doesn't / don't $luce.say → says / says / say $luce.will → will / will / will $luce.willCon → she'll / he'll / they'll $luce.noun → girl / boy / person $luce.adj → pretty / handsome / attractive $luce.childTerm → daughter/son/child $luce.siblingTerm → sister/brother/sibling $luce.prefix → miss/mr/$surname $samP.name → Samantha / Samuel $samP.subj → she / he $samP.subjCap → She / He $samP.obj → her / him $samP.possAdj → her / his $samP.possPro → hers / his $samP.refl → herself / himself $samP.be → is $samP.beNeg → isn’t $samP.beCon → she’s / he’s

<<if $torture1>>\ <<if $tactic4>>\ <<if $painlove>>\ Which startles you, making your mouth fall open and the drop of blood running down your chin. His eyes follow the drop languidly as it dangles and then drops onto the back of his hand. He looks at it for a moment before bring it to his lips and slowly licking it off all while dark eyes refuse to leave your own. You feel your clothes on your skin, uncomfortable and suffocating where they stick. Dante makes another cut on your sternum and a small gasp escapes your mouth that he so hungrily captures with his eyes. His mouth is open near yours and you swear he inhales as you let out low sounds each time he opens another hole. “You’re so fucking deranged,” he whispers near your lips.<<set $Dante += 1>> He makes a cut above your nipple and you throw your head back. You let out a small whine and your toes curl. You can’t even register this isn’t a lie anymore because he’s already onto the next expanse of skin, ready to give you more knee-squeezing arousal. But your body is already weakened. <<else>>\ Which startles you, making your mouth fall open and the drop of blood running down your chin. His eyes follow the drop languidly as it dangles and then drops onto the back of his hand. He looks at it for a moment before bring it to his lips and slowly licking it off all while dark eyes refuse to leave your own. You feel as if his slimey eyes are penetrating your body. You’ve never felt more used. It’s not rape but it doesn’t feel like this is right and it’s sexual, you can see it in his eyes. Dante makes another cut on your sternum and a small gasp escapes your mouth that he so hungrily captures with his eyes. His mouth is open near yours and you swear he inhales as you let out low sounds each time he opens another hole. Thank God pain and pleasures can sound so alike. “You’re so fucking deranged,” he whispers near your lips. //Fuck you, Dante.// <<set $Dante += 1>> He makes a cut above your nipple and you throw your head back. You let out a small grunt and your body jerks. You can’t even process the pain anymore because he’s already onto the next expanse of skin, ready to have you give him more pleasure. This isn’t for you. You’re body feels like it wants to force your brain to shut off, anything, just anything to get rid of the pain. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <<elseif $torture2>>\ <<if $tactic4>>\ <<if $painlove>>\ You feel a tight feeling at the pit of your stomach. Your eyes widen at the realization and you hope it isn’t what you think it is. “What’s the matter, Luce? Cat got that very bloody hot tongue of yours?” he asks, smiling cheekily at you. You’re too focused on the feeling your stomach to answer. <<if $cisf or $transm or $nbf>>\ Dante shrugs and lands a hit on your stomach. A strangled gasp escapes you as your body lurches forward to bend but the rope holds you back. The air leaves your lungs and you taste vomit in your throat. And yet you feel warmth emanate from between your legs. Your blood rushing to your cunt. <<elseif $cism or $transf or $nbm>>\ Dante shrugs and lands a hit on your stomach. A strangled gasp escapes you as your body lurches forward to bend but the rope holds you back. The air leaves your lungs and you taste vomit in your throat. And yet you feel the blood rushing about between your legs. Your blood rushing to your dick. <</if>>\ You don’t know what makes you feel more lightheaded, the hits or the feeling you get from them. Dante puts a hand on your shoulder and throws you back against the seat. You let out a pant that makes him do a double-take. He meets your eyes and you feel your eyelids lower; you look at him through a veil of arousal. You don’t even know if you’re attracted to him or the pain.<<set $Dante += 1>> His lips almost smile when he sees what’s written on your face. He brings a hand to your stomach and presses down on where he hit you. Your stomach jerks but you close your eyes and sigh. He gets up and brings a hand to his crotch, giving it a light pat. Your mouth would go dry if it didn’t have this much blood. <<else>>\ You feel awful shivers go up your arms like being stabbed by tiny cold knives. “What’s the matter, Luce? Cat got that very bloody hot tongue of yours?” he asks, smiling cheekily at you. You’re too focused on baring the pain to reply to him. Dante shrugs and lands a hit on your stomach. A silent scream wishes to escape you as your body lurches forward to bend but the rope holds you back. The air leaves your lungs and you taste vomit in your throat. Don’t puke, don’t puke. You see dark static circles in your vision. Dante puts a hand on your shoulder and throws you back against the seat. You let out a whine that makes him do a double-take. He meets your eyes and you feel your eyelids lower; you look at him through a veil of arousal —hopefully it works on him. Your ability to lie has never been more important.<<set $Dante += 1>> His lips almost smile when he sees what’s written on your face. He brings a hand to your stomach and presses down on where he hit you. Your stomach jerks awfully but you close your eyes and moan. He gets up and brings a hand to his crotch, giving it a light pat. You would dry gag if you’re mouth didn’t have blood, you don’t want to stain yourself more. Tortured and all, you are not looking to look worse. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 95|◎ Page 95-KIDNAP.26]]

<<set $Merciful = Math.clamp($Merciful + 10, 0, 100)>> <<set $Merciful = Math.clamp($Merciful - 10, 0, 100)>> for ruthless <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded + 10, 0, 100)>> /* more grounded */ <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded - 10, 0, 100)>> /* more spoiled */ <<set $Intimidation += 1>>

What is your deadname? <<textbox "$deadname" "">> <span class="orange-btn-container"> <<link "Continue">> <<if $deadname and $deadname.trim() !== "">> <<set $deadname to $deadname.trim()>> <<goto "◎ Page 15">> <<else>> <<replace "#nameerror">><span style="color:red;">Please enter a name first.</span><</replace>> <</if>> <</link>> </span> <span id="nameerror"></span>

You didn’t know what you were expecting but the house—wherever the hell they’re keeping you is sparse furnished. The walls are white everywhere and most doors are closed.  <<if $cardeal>>\ You’re lucky his men aren’t here, it would be embarrassing and you’ve had your quota for that. <<else>>\ Dante’s goon watch with amusement and curiosity as Dante leads you along the halls the room. “I’m going to my room, don’t fucking interrupt me.” <</if>>\ But he pulls you along towards a door at the end of the hallway. He throws the door open and pushes you inside, you fall onto your ass and he locks the door behind him. You look up at him as he walks over to you. The erection straining against his pants makes your eyebrows raise. It’s probably an optical illusion… It can’t be that big, right? <<if ($pastime == "sex") || ($cheatluce == true)>>\ You’ve seen cocks before. It’s not like you’re a prude or chaste. <<cycle "$notvirgin" autoselect>><<option "Although it’s not like the ones you fucked were impressive">><<option "However, pussies had been more to your liking">><</cycle>>. <<else>>\ You’ve seen cocks before. <<cycle "$virgin" autoselect>><<option "You’ve never fucked with one, or fucked anything at all">><<option "Although it’s not like the ones you fucked were impressive">><<option "However, pussies had been more to your liking">><</cycle>>. <</if>>\ You lift up your bound wrists and meekly say, “I can’t do anything if my hands are tied.” Dante grins down at you, his cheeks are blood red and his chest rises noticeably up and down. You notice the excessive hair on his chest is glistening with his sweat. “Use your teeth,” he commands. Your mouth goes dry as you look down at his belt. You bring your lips closer and place them around the thick belt buckle. It’s cold metal surface tastes like nothing as you pull with your teeth. It takes a good try as your teeth aren’t strong. It’s a heavy ugly thing that falls to the floor with a loud clang. His belt opens easily at that. Your mouth comes closer to his crotch and you hear him have an intake of breath. You can feel the desire radiating off of him. It’s palpable as the every growing hard on he has. You breathe ghosts over the fabric over his groin. You bring your lips to the warm surface and mouth your mouth around it. Dante pants. It thrills you deep in the pit of your stomach. A sense of pride at what you're doing to him. Your tongue flicks out to lightly trail along his clothed member. “Ah fuck,” he hisses. Your mouth presses against his crotch fully and you start lightly sucking. You feel the warmth of his penis beneath your teeth. “God.” [[◎ Page 141|◎ Page 141-P2]]

__<h1>Chapter Two: Never Been Closer to Anyone</h1>__\ <<audio "scratch" stop>>\ <<audio "studio" loop play>>\ You swerve past cars without signaling, earning the honks from drivers who yell insults at you. You’re too nervous to even care. Your hands shake as they squeeze the wheel in a death grip. You’re constantly looking behind you and accidentally veering into the next lane. Your driving skills are rusty. Your bodyguard… Charley would drive you everywhere. Driving reminds you of how much shit has hit the fan in just an hour. Fuck Dante. Fuck Sam. Fuck Charley too while you’re at it. Fucking Indian bitch went and died on you. What kind of shitty bodyguard does that? Worst of all, she left you her ugly car. The cherry on top of the slop you call ice cream. Or is it a cake that has cherries? You don’t know, you don’t eat sugar. You have no plan. No money. No idea where you’re going. You turn into random streets with potholes and garbage strewn everywhere. Most lights here are burned out and you get a prickle of fear as the hobos follow your car with their eyes. Eh, you’ll run them over. The adrenaline that has made your heart beat frantically out of your chest finally slows to a regular pitter-patter that makes you very aware of the fact that you’ve just escaped a massacre. Somehow, you didn’t die. Charley helped, you guess. “I need to call Pa,” you say to yourself. You really need to get off the road, the longer you drive around aimlessly, the more you expose yourself. [[◎ Page 71|◎ Page 71-SOLOE.2]]

Solo studio - drive to the hotel (recepionist persuasion) escaped - time alone in room HERE organ rock - diner (until luce is in the bathroom) love crazy - escape the diner/motel (stop when luce is caught or outside their room) HERE Mafia trap (ending) HERE

Charley had spent years trying to give you ‘survival’ tips that you mostly ignored. You thought that if you had her, you wouldn’t need to care. Stupid fucking thought. Although, you didn’t listen to about 98% of what she said, you knew some things. You would need to go into hiding for as long as necessary for someone you trusted to find you. Easy for you, you’ll just have to sit down all pretty and wait to be rescued. With one hand on the wheel you check the compartments of the car. Charley is—was freakishly clean and organized. It doesn’t take much to find a pouch with a few old bills in it. You count them as the car veers into the next lane and clips the window of a Ford Pinto. Your own wallet only has your ID. You use cheques and your damn checkbook was left at the club. You groan… this is some bullshit. Not enough here to afford a good hotel like the Hilton. But maybe you can still get a pretty fancy hotel if you bat your eyelashes just right. You slow the car down to think of where to go. Charley would suggest going to a shitty motel. But Charley isn’t here and since when should you listen to someone dead? If she was smarter, she would be alive, duh. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Pick the fancier hotel|◎ Page 72-SOLOE.3][$fancyh to true]] [[The motel|◎ Page 72-SOLOE.3]]

<<if $fancyh>>\ You deserve it. After the way your night went, this is the least you’re owed and so you spend the next 10 minutes driving around your city, trying to find a place that looks ritzy but not overly so. It’s not because your devilish looks and charismatic personality wouldn’t help you there, it's because… you just don’t feel like it. Yeah. You find a place that’s not overly pricey and park in front of the lobby. But before you enter, you reach into the pouch to see if there’s more money you’re not seeing. You feel something hard and cold; you pull out a shiny little gun. “Oh shit,” you say and stuff it back in the pouch along with the money. You put it in your pocket. A doorman stands at the ready and you throw him a smile as he opens the door for you. You walk under a chandelier and the receptionist eyes your clothes as you near the desk. You put on your most dazzling smile and lay your arms on the surface of the counter. “Good evening,” you say kindly. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “Hello, Ma’am,” the receptionist says with a polite tone. <<else>>\ “Hello, Sir,” the receptionist says with a polite tone. <</if>>\ You look at her name tag, “Cindy. You’re American, right? I can tell by the accent.” [[◎ Page 73|◎ Page 73-SOLOE.4]] <<else>>\ You curse good sense. It never goes with fun. You go deeper into the slums of the city until you see a sign for a place called //The Pink Lady// which has a curvy red woman… dancing? A real classy crib you found yourself. You park the car in between two parking spots and walk to the lobby. The door opens with a ding of a bell and a fat, greasy balding man looks up from the porn magazine he’s flipping through. A redhead with huge balloon tits, on her knees like a dog. True literature. You think about putting your elbows on the counter but it looks sticky so you fold them across your chest and say, “Great mag, good articles. I need a room.” The man grunts in response. You grunt in response. That seems to be his language because he shoves a register book to you with a bitten down pencil. You intend to sign with your name, but you pause. You put in a fake name: <<cycle '$fakename' autoselect>><<option 'Al Pacino'>><<option 'Marlon Brando'>><<option 'Jane Fonda'>><<option 'Faye Dunaway'>><<option 'Farah Fawcett'>><<option 'Burt Reynolds'>><</cycle>>. You hand over some bills and he hands you a room key. Room 7. “Hope this gives me luck, eh, Cat?” you ask him. He grunts in response, sticking a finger in his ear. You throw him a look of disgust before walking out. You go back to the car and look through more of the interior to see if you can find anything else of use. The pouch of money falls under the seat and when you bend down to get it, your fingers touch something cold. You take it out with the money. <<if $clothesg>>\ A small handgun. One of those lady guns you could put in a purse. You don’t know how to use one of these things. You tuck it under the tight fabric surrounding your chest. <<else>>\ A small handgun. One of those lady guns you could put in a purse. You don’t know how to use one of these things. You still shove it in your waistband. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 73|◎ Page 73-SOLOE.4]] <</if>>\

<<if $fancyh>>\ “Yes. You are too?” she asks. “I got that New Yorker accent that gives me away, huh?” you ask good-naturedly. “Yes. What can I help you with?” You lay your palm on your cheek and hope you look cute as you say, “I’m in need of a room. But I have a little teeny problem, Cindy.” You even pinch your fingers to add some flair. “Yes?” You clear your throat and look around the lobby. There’s no one here but you two. You hear the elevator ding on the floor above you. The lobby is outfitted with marble floors, warm light and brown couches. Swanky yet a 3 star joint. 3.5, if you’re being generous. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Offer to go down on her|◎ Page 74-SOLOE.5][$cindy1 to true]] [[Show her the gun|◎ Page 74-SOLOE.5][$cindy2 to true]] [[Dangle a piece of jewelry in front of her|◎ Page 74-SOLOE.5]] <<else>>\ Slamming the car door shut, you walk to the room door and unlock it. The minute you push it open, the smell of dust, mothballs and stale cigarettes attacks you. You flick on the light and squint as the piss-colored light floods the room. You kick the door shut behind you and turn the lock. You go over to the lamp and turn it on before flicking the overhead light off. You look around the room and close your eyes, blowing out your cheeks. “FUCK MY LIFE.” You throw the pouch of money and your wallet on the nightstand: the gun falls on the bed. You grimace as you reach out to the floral red blanket covering the bed. The fabric feels cheap—horrible for your soft skin. It probably has ticks. You think maybe the car is a better place to sleep. But only losers and failures sleep in cars. You strip the blanket off, and the thin bed sheet underneath that. Maybe it’s the trick of the light but it doesn’t look stained. Still you go to the bathroom to find a towel to put over the spot where you’ll sleep. You wash your hands and look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes look haggard and your hair has been better. There’s a lack of life in your skin. You slide your hands up your arms to cool them off and grab the singular towel hanging behind the door. You bring it to your nose. It smells like mildew. You grip it in your hands, fighting the urge to go throw it at the bald fat man’s face. Instead, you throw it on the bed and sit down, putting your face in between your knees. Grinding your teeth to contain your anger. Being angry is better than being scared, right? And you’re pissed. [[◎ Page 74|◎ Page 74-SOLOE.5]] <</if>>\

<<if $fancyh>>\ <<if $cindy1>>\ You smirk and tap your fingers against the counter, “If you allow me to have a room at a reduced price, I think I can make it worth your while.” She blinks. “What are you talking about?” You look over at the doorman and roll your lips before walking behind the desk. Cindy pushes herself back on the chair as you put your hands on the armrests and lean in. She presses herself against the chair. You smile brightly, “You know what I’m talking about.” <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ She gulps and looks quickly at the front doors. “Ma’am, this is highly inappropriate.” <<else>>\ She gulps and looks quickly at the front doors. “Sir, this is highly inappropriate.” <</if>>\ “Shhh,” you whisper and lean in to kiss her cheek. She looks at you with panicked eyes as you lean in and run your nose along the valley of her chest and then the fabric of her skirt. She doesn’t resist when you gently splay her legs open and put your hands under the tight fabric. You find her underwear and slowly pull it down her legs. Her fingernails dig into the armrests as you fit your face in between her thighs and slowly lick her humid slit. She makes a bit of a whiny sound that you almost snort at. You cover it up by pressing your mouth to her clit and sucking hard. She groans and instinctively grips your hair, pressing you against her warm and soft pussy. You dig your tongue deep into her crevice while placing a hand on her lower stomach and pushing her against her chair. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “Ma’am,” she groans. <<else>>\ “Sir,” she groans. <</if>>\ You hum in response which just makes her moan into her hand. Her juices flow into your mouth and the taste is almost bitter but you find you like it. She smells of skin and her little noises encourage you to lap harder at her clit. Maybe it's been a while for her. Maybe you’re just that good—you tend to think the latter—but she suddenly goes rigid, a gasp escapes her small mouth and then you feel a gush flowing into your mouth. You move away from her and wipe your mouth. Getting up, you look around for the keys and grab a random set underneath the room number 47 plaque. Cindy is still splayed open, her breath ragged. You shake the key in front of her dazed eyes and say, “Thanks, Doll.” You throw your car keys on the counter. <<elseif $cindy2>>\ You take the gun out of the pouch and place it on the counter. You don’t say anything; you just make sure she sees it. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ Cindy eyes widen as the barrel points at her. “Ma’am, we don’t allow weapons in the hotel.” <<else>>\ Cindy eyes widen as the barrel points at her. “Sir, we don’t allow weapons in the hotel.” <</if>>\ You click your tongue, “Cindy, try to be a smart girl. You know what’s going on here. I need a room and I don’t have the money for it, so I would love it if you helped me out.” Cindy gulps and quickly glances at the telephone. She makes a move to go for it but you quickly get there first and pull it towards you. You take the gun and put the handle standing up on the counter, now directly facing her. “I don’t think you want to die and I don’t want to kill you so, please, give me a key,” you order sweetly. Cindy lets out a shaky breath and then turns around to the row of keys hanging from the wall. You grip the gun tighter to prevent your hand from shaking as much as it is. She lays a single key on the counter and slowly sits back down, her eyes never leaving the gun. You slide the key over to you. It has a 47 engraved on it. You smile at her, “Thanks, Doll-face.” You throw your car keys on the counter. <<else>>\ “Cindy,” you begin and press your palms together like you’re praying. “You don’t know me but my father is a very important man. He has a lot of dough.” <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ She raises an eyebrow, “Ma’am, what—” <<else>>\ She raises an eyebrow, “Sir, what—” <</if>>\ “AND!” you’re quick to interrupt, “He would pay you handsomely for taking care of his $luce.childTerm in my time of need. He’s probably going to be here first thing tomorrow, so you won’t even have to wait.” <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “Ma’am, this goes against company policy,” Cindy says hesitantly. <<else>>\ “Sir, this goes against company policy,” Cindy says hesitantly. <</if>>\ You clasp your hands and bat your eyelashes. “Please? I’m just a poor college student. My partner broke up with me for some dingbat loser. I just failed my exam and I was robbed.” You blink several times as the tears start forming in your eyes. “I really just need a good God-fearing Samaritan to aid me. Will you be that good, gentle soul?” you sniff really noisily to sell it. Cindy sighs and unhooks a key from the wall and she slides it over to you. Room number 47. You wipe at your cheeks and smile weakly, “You’re an angel and the Lord almighty will repay your kindness.” You throw your car keys on the counter. Cindy nods pleasantly and you walk to the elevators. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 75|◎ Page 75-SOLOE.6]] <<else>>\ <<audio "studio" fadeout>>\ This is all out of your hands. You’re not used to that feeling. It feels like tiny needles stabbing you underneath your skin. Why did this happen? Aren’t the Grecos your Pa’s friends? As far as you know. Which… admittedly isn’t much. You guess this is a disadvantage of not being in the business. The Grecos ruined your party. Killed Marcey. Your stupid fucking ex betrayed you, serving you up to them on a silver platter. Your Pa will handle the Grecos. As for Sam? <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Maybe you were kind of shitty|◎ Page 75-SOLOE.6][$sam1 to true]] [[Drama queen|◎ Page 75-SOLOE.6][$sam2 to true]] [[Needy psycho|◎ Page 75-SOLOE.6][$sam3 to true]] <</if>>\

<<if $fancyh>>\ <<audio "studio" fadeout>>\ Your footsteps are soundless on the deep blue carpet of the 4th floor. The walls are a deep brown that clash in a very tacky way with the eggshell colored doors but you aren’t judgmental. When you open the door to your room and flick on the light, you’re greeted by a decently sized bed with cream-colored bedding, a nightstand with a lamp, a desk near the curtain-covered windows, and a small television in front of the bed. You push open a door that’s slightly ajar to reveal a simple, clean bathroom with a tub. “Nice,” you murmur. You kick off your shoes and shrug off the coat you found in Charley’s car. You lift your arm to sniff at your armpit and wince. Ok, bath first. You make sure the water is decently warm as it fills the tub, and while that’s happening you go to the sink and take a good look at yourself. You look a little frazzled but no worse for wear. Your mouth tastes like alcohol, that burger you ate before the party {and pussy}. You put some soap on your finger and drag it along your teeth. You moan like you’ve just been fucked good when you first lie in the water. You lean back and look up at the ceiling, the wall where your feet are pressed, and the curtain of the bath. You tap your fingers against the surface of the water. You look down at your body. You really love it. Marcey would always— Marcey lying on the floor dead, her brown hair matted to her face because of the blood— You grind your teeth together and sink into the water. Later, you’re on the bed wrapped in a bathrobe as you click through the channels. Vietnam, //M*A*S*H//, //All In The Family//, //The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson// and on and on. You finally settle on //2001// to fall asleep to. You’re in a dark room, huddled in the corner as whispers surround you. You can’t make out what they’re saying but you know they hate you. They want to hurt you and they will. You call out timidly, “Andrea?” They stop whispering, as if waiting for your brother to save you. But when they see he’s not coming and that he never will, they start up again but this time louder and louder all over the room. You press your hands to your ears and scream. [[◎ Page 76|◎ Page 76-SOLOE.7]] <<else>>\ <<if $sam1>>\ Looking back at the years you were together, you weren’t the best. You basically were in a relationship with yourself and Sam was third-wheeling. It took Marcey getting killed for you to actually see it. You laugh bitterly in your lonely room. <<set $Merciful = Math.clamp($Merciful + 0.1, 0, 100)>> Thick-headed, your Ma would call you. <<elseif $sam2>>\ Seriously? All this just because you wouldn’t give Sam attention? It’s not your fault $samP.subj was not as cool or as interesting as you. Maybe $samP.subj should’ve made $samP.refl more fun. Maybe $samP.possAdj first reaction should’ve been yelling at you like a normal fucking person instead of trying to get a coked out gangster to kill you. <<set $Merciful = Math.clamp($Merciful - 0.1, 0, 100)>> Fucking Sam. <<else>>\ Sam always needed too much fucking attention from you. //Luce, could you give me a hug? Luce do you want to go watch a movie? Luce, I’m sad.// <<set $Merciful = Math.clamp($Merciful - 0.1, 0, 100)>> YAWN. How about $samP.subj grow a pear of fucking balls and stop busting yours? It was like dating a toddler. You don’t have a brat running around for a reason, you didn’t know you were about to marry one. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 76|◎ Page 76-SOLOE.7]] <</if>>\

<<if $fancyh>>\ You wake up with a start and rush to the windows, pulling open the curtains. Bright light attacks your face and you quickly pull the curtains closed. You look around the room and that’s when your stomach growls. You walk over to the telephone by the nightstand and call room service. You order the typical breakfast and then hang up. You think about what to do next. You can’t stay here. What would Charley do? Call someone. Tell them where you are and wait. The person you would call to come and save you is deader than Rod Serling. You bring the pouch of money over to the bed and shake all of its contents onto the sheets. Out comes the money, the gun and a… pizzeria card? You pick it and yes, it is a card for a pizzeria called Manolo’s. There’s a cartoon of a happy pizza eating a slice which definitely promotes cannibalism. There’s a number to call. Charley thought of everything, nothing was ever accidental and she didn’t eat junk food. Maybe if you called you would get the help you want. There’s also your Pa. If shit has gone so south with the Grecos that they thought of kidnapping you, then your family might not be at home. They could be at the safe-houses. Your Pa did make you memorize the various places all over the world. You call… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Lazlo|◎ Page 77-SOLOE.8][$choice1 to true]] [[The pizzeria|◎ Page 77-SOLOE.8]] <<else>>\ <<audio "death" loop play>> You lift your hand and reach over to the pouch. You take out the bills and recount them. Twenty bucks. You’ve never budgeted. How do people do this? Are there really folk out there who just… make a limit for themselves? Horrid. You would kill yourself. “Money isn't everything, blah, blah, blah,” you say out loud. You find a small little zipper within the pouch and unzip it, taking out a folded Polaroid and a card. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Look at both of them|◎ Page 77-SOLOE.8][$hc1 to true]] [[Look at the Polaroid|◎ Page 77-SOLOE.8][$hc2 to true]] [[Look at the card|◎ Page 77-SOLOE.8][$hc3 to true]] [[Throw them away|◎ Page 77-SOLOE.8][$hc4 to true]] <</if>>\

<<if $fancyh>>\ <<if $choice1>>\ You call one of the safe-houses. The numbers your Pa made you memorize till exhaustion. You call one after the other but each time the phone rings and rings until the operator tells you the call hasn’t gone through. You’ll call again later. <<else>>\ You call the pizzeria but, maybe because of the hour, there’s only ringing and ringing until the call asks you to leave a message. You don’t know what to say so you just hang up. <</if>>\ You get dressed again and flop on the bed. You click on the television again and flip through the channels until there’s a knock on the door. You say, “Come in!” You land on that stupid Christmas movie Bianca likes so much. There’s another knock. “Come in!” you say more insistently. You look at the door and it doesn’t budge. “Fucking idiot,” you mutter and walk over to the door. You pull it open and you’re met with the barrel of a gun pointed at your forehead. Dante’s very eager face stands behind it and he says, “Luce, Luce, you’re a real dumbass.” You try to run to the window but you feel a horrible pain explode on your thigh and you collapse on the ground. Dante walks into the room, flanked by two men dressed in black. You try crawling backwards and Dante cocks his head. One of the henchmen bends down, grabs your face, and puts a hand over your nose and mouth. You smell something medicinal and try to wriggle away but the man holds on tighter. Your vision starts clouding and you look up to see Dante eyeing Charley’s gun. [[◎ Page 70|◎ Page 70-KIDNAP.1]] <<else>>\ <<if $hc1>>\ You bring the photo closer to the dingy light of the lamp and squint to make out the figures. There’s a group of six college-age kids sitting on the grass. They’re all dressed very preppy and clean. The majority of them are men but there are two girls sitting in the middle. One of them an Indian girl who you’ve seen smile but never like that. Charley doesn’t look that different than from when you first met her. A bit younger, with a roundness to her cheeks that disappeared in the time between when this was taken and when she first said ‘Hello’ to you. They’re all wearing either pants or shorts but that doesn’t matter as much as what shirts they’re wearing. //The Meteorological Club// in black bold letters. There’s a tiny meteor in place of one of the Os. Your eyebrows scrunch together. Why would Charley keep this? She never seemed much like a person who cared about the weather or space. For as long as you knew her, she was always focused on the ground. Grounded. “Weird,” you mutter and lay the photo down on the bed. You pick up the card and look at the name: //Manolo’s Pizzeria.// There’s a cartoon of a pizza happily eating another pizza which should definitely be considered cannibalism. There’s a number but no address. The number is local. This is even weirder than the Polaroid. Charley was meticulous, to an annoying degree. If she had something on her or handed something to you it was always purposeful. And she never ate junk food. She never even tasted a fry. Who the fuck was this bitch? <<elseif $hc2>>\ You crumble the card and throw it somewhere on the floor. You bring the photo closer to the dingy light of the lamp and squint to make out the figures. There’s a group of six college-age kids sitting on the grass. They’re all dressed very preppy and clean. The majority of them are men but there’s two girls sitting in the middle. One of them an Indian girl who you’ve seen smile but never like that. Charley doesn’t look that different than from when you first met her. A bit younger, so roundness to her cheeks that disappeared in the time between when this was taken and when she first said ‘Hello’ to you. They’re all wearing either pants or shorts but that doesn’t matter as much as what shirts they’re wearing. //The Meteorological Club// in black bold letters. There’s a tiny meteor in place of one of the Os. Your eyebrows scrunch together. Why would Charley keep this? She never seemed much like a person who cared about the weather or space. For as long as you knew her she was always focused on the ground. Grounded. “Weird,” you mutter and lay the photo down on the bed. You pick up the card and look at the name: //Manolo’s Pizzeria.// There’s a cartoon of a pizza happily eating another pizza which should definitely be considered cannibalism. There’s a number but not address. The number is local. This is even weirder than the Polaroid. Charley was meticulous, to an annoying degree. If she had something on her or handed something to you it was always purposeful. And, she never ate junk food. She never even tasted a fry. Who the fuck was this bitch? <<elseif $hc3>>\ You let the Polaroid fall in the crack between the mattress and the headboard. You bring the photo closer to the dingy light of the lamp and squint to make out the figures. There’s a group of six college-age kids sitting on the grass. They’re all dressed very preppy and clean. The majority of them are men but there’s two girls sitting in the middle. One of them an Indian girl who you’ve seen smile but never like that. Charley doesn’t look that different than from when you first met her. A bit younger, so roundness to her cheeks that disappeared in the time between when this was taken and when she first said ‘Hello’ to you. They’re all wearing either pants or shorts but that doesn’t matter as much as what shirts they’re wearing. //The Meteorological Club// in black bold letters. There’s a tiny meteor in place of one of the Os. Your eyebrows scrunch together. Why would Charley keep this? She never seemed much like a person who cared about the weather or space. For as long as you knew her she was always focused on the ground. Grounded. “Weird,” you mutter and lay the photo down on the bed. You pick up the card and look at the name: //Manolo’s Pizzeria.// There’s a cartoon of a pizza happily eating another pizza which should definitely be considered cannibalism. There’s a number but not address. The number is local. This is even weirder than the Polaroid. Charley was meticulous, to an annoying degree. If she had something on her or handed something to you it was always purposeful. And, she never ate junk food. She never even tasted a fry. Who the fuck was this bitch? <<elseif $hc4>>\ This has nothing to do with you. First of all, she’s dead. You don’t care what went on in her personal life. Second of all, you can’t see how this will help. Maybe Charley was more sentimental than you thought, cause this is some sentimental crap if you’ve ever seen it. <</if>>\ You feel sweaty and your hair is matted. You go to the bathroom and turn on the faucet. Your nose scrunches when you see the cheap bathtub’s porcelain peel off and fall into the water. You look at the sink. Maybe you could just wet some toilet paper and bathe like that? Gross but passable. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Shower|◎ Page 78-SOLOE.9][$shower to true]] [[Sink|◎ Page 78-SOLOE.9]] <</if>>\

<<if $shower>>\ You make a face as you look down at the floor of the shower. “Ew,” you grumble. You don’t see any stains but they’re definitely there. You stomp your foot and turn on the faucets. “Fuck my life.” You test out the water to make sure it’s warm enough and then get in. You barely move as the water runs down your head. You keep your hands crossed in front of your chest and just turn around and around. You are not touching that bar of soap. You only last 5 minutes before you have to step out and quickly dry yourself off. You put on your clothes with jerky movements, and then face the mirror over the sink. <<else>>\ You wet some toilet paper and sit on the toilet as you rub underneath your armpits, your feet, your limbs, and in between your legs. You drop the clumps of wet toilet paper in the toilet and flush before going over to the sink and splashing water on your face a few times. You look at yourself in the mirror. You go to the bed and take the towel to dry yourself off. <</if>>\ You touch your cheeks, pull back your eyes, stretch out your neck. You wish you had your toiletries here. Your creams and lotions, your toothbrush and comb. <<if $cism or $transm>>\ You were called a pansy once for putting creams on your face. You told the big-mouthed oaf who said it that he can enjoy people being surprised when they think he’s 35 at 21. But not you. <<elseif $cisf or $transf>>\ They called you vain. But if they make all these things for women—why is it vain? Aren’t you doing what you're supposed to? You don’t think much of the women’s liberation movement but they’re not always wrong; just annoying lesbians. <<else>>\ They called you vain. But if they make all these things for people who have pussies—why is it vain? Aren’t you doing what you’re supposed to? You don’t think much of the women’s liberation movement nor do you think you are one, but they’re not always wrong; just annoying lesbians. <</if>>\ You take a chance to examine your body, hoping there’s no nicks you’ll have to cover with makeup whenever you get some powder. You adore your body. It looks exactly as you want it to. You made sure to mold it to the image you have in your head, although some parts were just your God-given assets. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ <<if $cisf or $nbf>>\ [[You have naturally small tits|◎ Page 79-SOLOE.10][$boobt to true]] [[You have naturally huge tits|◎ Page 79-SOLOE.10][$boobh to true]] [[The boob job was a great choice|◎ Page 79-SOLOE.10][$boob to true]] [[That nose job made your Ma cry because she missed your old one|◎ Page 79-SOLOE.10][$nose to true]] <<else>>\ [[The boob job was a great choice|◎ Page 79-SOLOE.10][$boob to true]] [[That nose job made your Ma cry because she missed your old one|◎ Page 79-SOLOE.10][$nose to true]] [[Your flat chest is great although the scars are...eh|◎ Page 79-SOLOE.10][$noboob to true]] <</if>>\

Marcey once said she jokingly envied that about you. Everyone around you seemed to have some sort of problem, vomiting up food and obsessively checking their weight. Only weak people can't control themselves. Being hot requires discipline. Most people aren’t cut out for it, and you’re glad. You hate sharing the spotlight. That’s why you surrounded yourself with uglies. You stood out more. You see yourself frowning in the mirror. Marcey was… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ <<link "She was beautiful">> <<set $marc1 = true>> <<goto "◎ Page 80-SOLOE.11">> <</link>> <<link "She was <i>so</i> <b>beautiful</b>">> <<set $marc2 = true>> <<goto "◎ Page 80-SOLOE.11">> <</link>> <<link "Not ugly, just not like you">> <<set $marc3 = true>> <<goto "◎ Page 80-SOLOE.11">> <</link>> <<link "Ugly but you adored her">> <<goto "◎ Page 80-SOLOE.11">> <</link>>

<<audio "death" fadeout>>\ <<if $marc1>>\ Sometimes you envied her and made some very cutting remarks about her looks. But she never got mad. It freaked you out, but then you thought she had low self-esteem which made you feel better—she wouldn’t leave. But now you think maybe she was just that confident. You smile softly. She knew herself so well and she knew you too, even though you tried your best. <<elseif $marc2>>\ That was the first thing you ever noticed about her. That was the reason you wanted to ask her to be your roommate on the spot. You had never seen someone so gorgeous and you thought you needed that girl by your side. Obviously cause it would make you look good. Not because you liked her or anything. Of course not. You didn’t like how her perfume of lilies covered all your things. You didn’t like how her hair looked like in the sun. You definitely didn’t like how guys could be flirting with her but when she was with you she ignored them and focused all her attention and smiles on you. You hated how her tits looked in her bra when you would see her wander the apartment with no shirt. You obviously didn’t think about what her lip gloss would taste like on your tongue. <<if $cism or $transm>>\ You’re not a fucking creep. Marcey always said you and her were proof a guy and a girl could be friends. <<elseif $cisf or $transf>>\ You’re not a fucking dyke. You never liked a girl in your life. She was just pretty, ok? <<else>>\ You weren’t a creep. You were very normal about her. <</if>>\ <<elseif $marc3>>\ There are levels to everything and you admit that the reason you originally liked having her around is because she wasn’t as attractive as you; that makes you even hotter. You were right about that. But she was cute. She had that girl-next-door thing about her that made you instantly want to be liked by her. She knew she had that power and never abused it. You would’ve. <<else>>\ So what if she was on the ugly side? Not only did that make you look hot as all hell but it also made you like her more because she didn’t care. Marcey liked people for who they were. When you got her loyalty it was forever, through thick and thin. No one got you like she did. You can’t help but smile when you think of the first time you ever met her. <</if>>\ <h2>//__''1971''__//</h2>\ This girl—Marissa?—was babbling on about the “sights.” She moved to this city to see the sights… or was it something about her degree? What was it again? You had trouble paying attention because of her shoes. Penny loafers. You hated stuffy English clothing on a good day, you couldn’t stand it in your home. “…to see it in deep summer. It would be gorgeous. There's also the church next to it which I have been researching a lot about,” she took out a brochure from her old, and clearly cheap, bag to show you. You took it without opening, laying it on your lap. Mar… the girl’s smile slightly tightened when she saw that. You smiled, there’s something. “Anyway… you’ve lived here longer than I have, I think it would be groovy if we could go together,” she claimed. “What’s your name?” you asked her. “Marcela,” she replied, “Marcela Fuentes.” “Is that Mexican?” you asked, reaching out to take a sip of your drink. Her mouth twisted slightly. “No, I’m from Nicaragua.” You leaned back into your couch, “I don’t know where the fuck that is. Is it real?” “Yes.” “I don’t want the cartel here.” She finally dropped that annoyingly fake smile, and tightened her hold on her purse. You noticed her nails were painted hot pink. “Don’t you think that’s a bit racist?” You shrugged, “Don’t tell me you’re a bleeding heart? I can’t live with someone who can’t take a joke.” “That was a joke?” “That was a joke?” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Try to be nice [Grounded]|◎ Page 81-SOLOE.12][$convo1 to true]] [[Be bitchy [Spoiled]|◎ Page 81-SOLOE.12][$convo2 to true]] [[Change the conversation [Grounded]|◎ Page 81-SOLOE.12][$convo3 to true]] [[Change the conversation [Spoiled]|◎ Page 81-SOLOE.12]]

<<if $convo1>>\ Your first instinct was to insult her ugly shoes. Tell her that, going by the way she handled herself, she was clearly a poor fuck and needed you more than you needed her… but you bit your tongue. You’d never get a roommate if you made all the potential roommates cry. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded + 0.2, 0, 100)>> You pressed your teeth together and smiled. “An attempt at one. I haven’t had my second cup of coffee, I’m a bit out of sorts.” That was the closest thing she’d get to an apology. She looked at you strangely but didn’t make any attempt to press you on it, so you moved on. She even tried to smile at you. <<elseif $convo2>>\ “Yes, have you never fucking heard of one? Or is your English that shitty that you can’t understand the concept?” you asked cruelly. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded - 0.2, 0, 100)>> Marcela’s eyebrows shot up. “No. I understood it was, I was just giving you space to maybe take it back?” “Why would I take it back? You don’t even know me,” you snapped. “You’re right,” she replied quickly. You rolled your eyes and looked back at your questionnaire. <<elseif $convo3>>\ You cleared your throat and looked around, “Uh, do you listen to a lot of music? I’m asking because I see that pin and I’m wondering if it’s just something random you put on your coat or if you like //The Who//?” <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded + 0.2, 0, 100)>> Marcela looked down at the pin and smiled, “I LOVE them. California rock is so cool. I’ve always wanted to be one of those groupies that follow a band around.” “Groovy. I was into the //Grateful Dead// but I’m not a hippie. California rock… like the //The Mamas and Papas//?” “YES!” she exclaimed, “Mama Cass is my idol.” She grinned at you and you patted yourself on the back. <<else>>\ “You smell like pot. Are you a hippie? Because if you are, I have to say I fucking hate those fuckers and the last thing I want in my apartment are fleas,” you claimed. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded - 0.2, 0, 100)>> Marcela’s eyebrows came together as she said, “I never met someone my age who hated hippies.” “Yeah, cause everyone is an idiot. But I already deal with Vietnam protestors on university property, I don’t need more of you,” you said. “I’m not a hippie.” “Good.” <</if>>\ “Next question then, what do you bring to the table? I’m not trying to be an asshole but from the looks of you, I don’t see much,” you said with a tilt to your head and a critical eye that swept along her clothes. Her set jaw twitched as her lips frowned before she reached over to take a sip of her water. “You’re really honest. Almost brutal.” “I don’t like beating around the bush. I think everyone is playing a little game of tea party, pretending to be good friendly people when all they really want to do is tear into each other,” you replied. She raised an eyebrow, “You really think everyone is mean deep down?” You tilted your head and smirked, “Yeah.” [[◎ Page 82|◎ Page 82-SOLOE.13]]

She leaned forward in her chair, her water balanced on her knee. “You’ve never met anyone who you thought was mean on the outside but kind on the inside?” Without thinking you replied, “My brother.” You cursed yourself as the word you didn’t want to say floated in the air between you two. You had hoped she wouldn’t ask more. She had no right to anyway, she was the one being interviewed. “You have a brother?” she asked, suddenly interested. You shrugged, “Kind of.” “What do you mean by that?” You rolled your tongue along your inner cheek, looking at the window. It was a bright blue day. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Tell her the truth|◎ Page 83-SOLOE.14][$truthm to true]] [[Deflect|◎ Page 83-SOLOE.14]]

<<if $truthm>>\ You bit your lower lip and rubbed the back of your neck. You then got up and walked over to the window, opening the latch and letting some air in. You heard the sounds of the city and crossed your arms. “He died when I was 10,” you said. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, and you usually hated that. ‘I’m sorryyyyy’ as if it changed anything. They’re just empty words. But you didn’t turn around and attack her. There was something about the way she said it that made you feel it wasn’t a simple gesture. “Jesus,” you sighed. Some people could be so earnest. “If you don’t mind, can you tell me his name?” she asked gently. “Andrea,” you replied in a neutral tone. “That’s a lovely name. Were you two close?” You nodded. “Never been closer to anyone like that.” You looked over your shoulder at her, she sat there with the cup of water in her hand and her eyes looked glassy. Her mouth was twisting in odd ways. “Why are you crying?” you asked in a tone that belied disgust and shock. She took a sip of her water. She cleared her throat and said quietly, “It’s just very sad. No one should lose a sibling.” “No, they shouldn’t,” you replied and sat back down. <<else>>\ “Do you have any siblings?” you asked, not really caring about the answer. “Two older brothers, they’re both in Nicaragua,” she said. “Are you guys close?” “Kind of. They’re a bit older than me. I was a surprise baby, but a welcome one,” she said with a chuckle. “I wasn’t a surprise. None of my siblings were either. My parents all really wanted us,” you commented. “It’s so rare to actually hear about parents who want to have kids and plan them. All I ever hear from parents and friends is that it’s all a big accident,” she said. “So many people don’t want kids.” “It’s just what you’re supposed to do, right?” “Yeah.” <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 84|◎ Page 84-SOLOE.15]]

You sighed and slapped your hands against your thighs, getting up. Marcela got up too, slinging her purse over her shoulder. You opened your mouth to speak but she beat you to it, “I’m sorry if I wasn’t the best interviewee. I have jetlag and I’m really desperate to find a place to live—” “Marcel—” “—because if you don't accept me I have to go live with this weird old man who smells like earwax and kept staring at my breasts while he showed me around. There’s a suspicious hole in the wall and I think he’s going to peek at me—” You snorted, “Marcela you got—” She clasped her hands together, “Please Luce, I’ll cook, I’ll clean, I’ll even wash your feet if you want me to.” You sighed, “Marcel—wait, you’d do that?” She nodded her head, “If that’s what it takes.” Your eyebrows furrowed. You took a step back and looked her up and down. You were thinking of accepting her anyway, but if you could get a few things out of it by exploiting her desperation, why not? You didn’t play fair. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“Ok, you can live here but you’re getting a new wardrobe.”|◎ Page 85-SOLOE.16][$op1 to true]] [[“Ok, you can live here and I get foot massages four times a week.”|◎ Page 85-SOLOE.16][$op2 to true]] [[“Ok, you can live here and I don’t want a speck of dirt in this house.”|◎ Page 85-SOLOE.16]]

<<if $op1>>\ She smiled widely and replied, “Of course! Anything you want. I’ll need money but second-hand stores—” “You aren’t living with me wearing things hobos wear on the street. I’ll pay for it.” She gave you a look like you’re freaking Mother Theresa, which got you in a good mood. And so, when she extended her hand, you took it and shook it. “Ok, you can fuck off now. I’ll call you later to arrange when you can move in,” you said and she nodded. <<elseif $op2>>\ She smiled widely and replied, “Of course! Anything you want. I’ve never done a massage before but I think I can learn pretty quickly—” “You really are desperate, aren’t you?” “Yes!” she replied unashamedly. “Jesus, don’t be so honest.” You gestured to the front door, “You can fuck off now. I’ll call you later to arrange when you can move in.” She nodded. <<else>>\ She smiled widely and replied, “Of course! Anything you want. I can cook and clean and do the laundry—” “Don’t touch my underwear, you freak.” “I wasn’t going to do anything with it,” she swore. “Uh huh.” You gesture to the front door, “You can fuck off now. I’ll call you later to arrange when you can move in.” She nodded. <</if>>\ She went to the door. You didn’t follow her out, but you did take a few steps to see her better. She opened the door and looked back at you with a kind smile. It made you feel uncomfortable. You managed to offer her something that looked halfway between a grimace and a grin. “I think we’ll be great friends, Luce,” she said. “Sure,” you replied. She nodded and left, closing the door behind her with a soft click. You threw yourself on the couch and crossed your arms under your head. “As if,” you whispered. You probably wouldn’t last a week with her. She knew too much from a single conversation. She was annoying. Curious. Dangerous. You’d find an excuse; she snored too loudly, her feet smelled or you couldn’t stand her music. You’d probably forget about her in less than a week. [[◎ Page 85|◎ Page 86-SOLOE.17]]

In reminiscing about Marcela, you find that your eyelids grow heavy and you soon fall asleep, nude with the towel wrapped around you as comfort. You dream of a dark room. You press yourself against the corner as whispers jump from one end of the room to the next. You call out your brother’s name with a barely audible: “Andrea?” It stops the whispers but you know they’ll come back. Louder this time. You cover your ears and press your face against your knees as you hear their song rise. When you open your eyes again, you’re immediately blinded by the sunlight blazing high in the sky. You throw a smelly pillow at the window and groan. You have an eye mask for this reason. Man, will you be able to get your shit back from the apartment? You have a lot of nice clothes there and really expensive jewelry. That fucking landlord will take it all if you don’t go back. Dante’s guys are probably there, though. Just waiting for you to show up. What’s worse, looking ugly or dying? …. You’ll have to think deeply about that one. You crawl across the bed to shut the blinds and then go over to the table. There’s a telephone there. Maybe whoever you call can take you to your apartment. They should understand that pretty things are worth taking a bullet for. Them, not you. You couldn’t imagine a blemish on your perfect skin. When you die, they’ll parade you around like an attraction across America. The porcelain angel? The silk skin of wonder? Hmm. Add that to the list of things you need to think about. You pick up the phone and… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ <<if $hc4>>\ [[Call your parents’ house|◎ Page 87-SOLOE.18][$mafia to true]] ==Call the pizzeria’s number== <<else>>\ [[Call your parents’ house|◎ Page 87-SOLOE.18][$mafia to true]] [[Call the pizzeria’s number|◎ Page 87-SOLOE.18][$fbi to true]] <</if>>\

<<if $mafia>>\ The operator transfers you on an international person-to-person call. You wait as the phone rings and rings. You usually expect this, the maids are notoriously slow with picking up a call. You lean back, your arm behind you to prop yourself up. You curse and ask the operator to call the house in Mexico. It’s the one you remember most, from summers spent there. Your family has more houses in the US but clearly shit has hit the fan if no one is at the main house at this time of the year. The line barely finishes its first ring before a gruff voice asks, “Who is this?” “Is my Pa there?” you ask and yawn. “Who’s your Pa?” “Are you an idiot? Don’t you recognize my voice?” <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ “Oh! Miss Luce! We didn’t think—” <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ “Oh! Mister Luce! We didn’t think—” <<else>>\ “Oh! Boss Luce! We didn’t think—” <</if>>\ “No. You didn’t. Just get me the big man in charge—” “Mr. Lazlo is already on his way to $countrystudying,” the henchman replies. You raise an eyebrow, “I said the big man in charge, not the lackey.” The henchman replies, “Uh. Mr. Lazlo is the one in charge now.” You blink. “And what is that supposed to mean?” “He didn’t want us to tell you anything until he got there and found you. If you could tell me where you are, we can make sure he knows when he lands,” the man says. You feel your nostrils flare, “What the fuck is going on. Where is my father?” [[◎ Page 88|◎ Page 88-SOLOE.19]] <<elseif $fbi>>\ This might be one of the stupidest things you’ve ever done. You ask the operator to call the number on the card and like an idiot you wait while it rings. How old is this card anyway? It could have been there for years. Who knows if this place— “Manolo’s Pizzeria?” a bored voice answers. “Um, I need someone to come here, where I am,” you say. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “Miss, we need an address if you want a delivery and we need an order. What kind of pizza would you want?” <<elseif $cism or $transm or $nbm>>\ “Mister, we need an address if you want a delivery and we need an order. What kind of pizza would you want?” <</if>>\ “I don’t eat carbs. I drink them. I found this fucking card in my dead bodyguard’s car and I called it. I thought it would mean something,” you explain. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “What kind of pizza do you want, Miss?” <<elseif $cism or $transm or $nbm>>\ “What kind of pizza do you want, Sir?” <</if>>\ You roll your eyes. “Didn’t you hear a word I said? I. Don’t. Want. A. Pizza.” “I can’t help you if you don’t order, $name,” the man says. You grit your teeth, “Are you fucking—WAIT! I didn’t tell you my name! So I was right! Charley set something up, didn't she?” You practically bounce on your ass. The man on the other side goes quiet for a moment. “You still need to order.” [[◎ Page 88|◎ Page 88-SOLOE.19]] <</if>>\

<<if $mafia>>\ “We have an idea—” “You have an idea?! Aren’t you supposed to take care of him? How the fuck do you not know! He isn’t a set of car keys is HE?!” <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ “Miss Luce, Mister Lazlo knows more than I do. He can explain better but I need to know where you are,” he stresses. <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ “Mister Luce, Mister Lazlo knows more than I do. He can explain better but I need to know where you are,” he stresses. <<else>>\ “Boss Luce, Mister Lazlo knows more than I do. He can explain better but I need to know where you are,” he stresses. <</if>>\ You wipe your mouth and reply curtly, “At this motel. The Pink Lady. It’s on the outskirts of the city.” “I’ll make sure he knows. In the meantime, please stay put.” “Where is—” “I have to go give this information to the safe house in your city, goodbye $honorific Luce and please do your best to stay hidden.” “Don’t you dare hang up—” The line goes dead. You look at the receiver incredulously before yelling and throwing it against the wall. You run your hands through your hair and breathe in and out. You take several minutes to collect yourself before picking up the receiver again. You bite your tongue. Wait until your Pa hears about this. Whoever that was is getting his ass fired. You’ll tell your Pa he once touched you or something. <<elseif $fbi>>\ “Is this a stupid password thing? I don’t know it. Charley… she didn’t tell me anything about this or you. I really need you or someone like you to come and pick me up. I have no fucking idea what’s going or what to do,” you explain. You feel your throat tighten as panic starts to seize you. It’s the first time you verbalize it. “Charlotte didn’t tell you anything about me or this number?” the man asks. “No,” you sigh. “I don't know, maybe she forgot. But the issue here is that she’s dead and I kind of need to be picked up before some crazy mob people come and kill me.” “Where are you?” You give him the name of the motel. “Ok, stay where you are. Don’t go outside. It’ll take us a little over two hours to get there.” “Who are you people? Who’s us?” “Let’s focus on one thing at a time, Luce. You can ask away, but not on the telephone and not while you’re a sitting duck,” he responds. You rub your forehead. “Ok. Two hours, right?” “Yes.” “Fine. I can do that. And then you’ll answer all my questions?” “I didn’t say that,” he says and hangs up. You get a brief flash of annoyance. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 89|◎ Page 89-SOLOE.20]]

You place the receiver back and your eyes stay fixated on the telephone. It has a red light. Your eyes fall into the bright crimson depths. For some reason, the radio silence from your parents makes you think something horrible. You feel it deep in your gut. Your Pa, if he was ok, would’ve done everything to contact you. You should be screaming. Crying. Getting in the car and driving to the airport; be the proactive Luce that always gets out of a bind. But when it really counts, you can’t do anything but cling to a fantasy. You clung to the fantasy that your brother was not dead but sleeping. Now you cling to the memories of your family. All the laughs, all the tears, the family holidays. Things don’t seem real unless they’re seen by your own two eyes. That’s how you’ve been able to survive all these years. How terrible things just wash over you. Never touching Luce, no. Of course not. //Nothing ever touches me.// You shake your head and push your hair back. You take off your towel and put on the same clothes you were wearing last night. They smell a certain way and you feel like they’ve undone the work you put into showering, but it’s not like you have anything else. As you’re fixing up your outfit, almost on cue, your stomach starts to rumble. You check the clock on the wall, if it’s right then it's nearly lunch. You have enough money for something cheap at wherever nearby diner there is. You shudder. Diner food. You’ll need to vomit it up later. You snort. You’re kidding. Sort of. [[◎ Page 90|◎ Page 90-SOLOE.21]]

<<if $clothesg>>\ You’re putting on your shoes when there’s a knock on the door. Your freeze, sitting on the bed with your back bent to tie your straps. These heels ache. <<elseif $clothesr>>\ You’re putting on your shoes when there’s a knock on the door. Your freeze, sitting on the bed with your back bent to unzip your boots. <<else>>\ You’re putting on your shoes when there’s a knock on the door. Your freeze, sitting on the bed with your back bent to tie your laces. <</if>>\ You look at the strip of light coming through under the door. You see the shadows of two feet. You wait for a moment. Maybe they’ll leave if you don’t answer the first time. You watch the feet beneath the door. They knock again. You stand up and walk towards the peephole. You look through it to see a woman standing there. She’s peeking into the hole too. There’s a cart with cleaning products behind her. “I don’t need cleaning services thanks,” you respond in English. You think she didn’t hear it, so you unlock the door and open it. She stands there with a badly fitted blue uniform and nurse’s shoes. Her dirty blonde hair is tied back with an elastic band that has a shiny cherry on it. A weird touch of color given her drab appearance. You shake your head dramatically and say, “No.” You point to yourself, “Me. No. Want.” Then you point to her cart. She gives you a strange look. You groan, “Of course you don’t fucking understand.” <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “You don’t want fresh towels, Miss?” she asks with a heavily accented English. <<else>>\ “You don’t want fresh towels, Mister?” she asks with a heavily accented English. <</if>>\ You put your hand on the frame of the door and respond, “How fresh are we talking, toots? Fresh as in washed today or fresh as in washed last week and it was in someone else’s room first?” “Fresh, washed yesterday,” she replies. You look past her to eye the folded towels on the cart. You squint. You look back at her, your eyes scanning her from head to toe. You make no effort to hide the disdain in your eyes. You’ve always found maids the most awful of servants. They’re meek in a way that’s grating and all of them without fault dress poorly, and look like they’re mothers of three who haven’t slept in two weeks. It ruins your breakfast to have them buzzing around the table. They also smelled bad. Not in the body odor way, but in the “I-live-in-a-poor-neighborhood-way” and no matter how much cheap perfume they spritzed on before they clocked into work, it was never enough to get rid of that stench. You didn’t like the poor. You didn’t like seeing them. They could exist, sure, but you didn’t want to see them. But, who else would work for your family? She clears her throat. Her eyes have a certain hardness about them that wasn’t there before, she must’ve noticed. Good. You don’t want her for one second to think you’re the same. You aren’t staying in this fucking cesspit of venereal diseases because you two are alike. [[◎ Page 91|◎ Page 91-SOLOE.22]]

“Fine. Put in the new towels. Don’t touch my things, make the bed and clean the floors. I came here last night and it was a pigsty. Was that you?” you accuse. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ She shakes her head. “No, Miss. It was my colleague. He’s new. I’ve tried to teach him…” <<else>>\ She shakes her head. “No, Mister. It was my colleague. He’s new. I’ve tried to teach him…” <</if>>\ You snort, “Well you did a pretty shitty job, no wonder you work in a 1-star motel and not at the Ritz.” She works her mouth, as if wanting to say something and you grin. You dare her with your eyes. You could have her out of a job in twenty minutes. You don’t have the money to bribe the owner but you do have the force of your personality. As your eyes bear down on her she looks down, submissive. You feel a sense of calm. Things might’ve gone south last night, but not all has changed. The world works as you have always known. There are those who have and those who don’t. You move aside and sweep your arm to gesture for her to come in. She takes her cart and wheels it inside the room. It makes an irritating squeaky noise. You sit on the chair by a small desk and watch her. She starts by picking up the towel you used last night. Her eyes flick to you and away when she sees you’re not taking your eyes off her. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Be mean [Spoiled]|◎ Page 92-SOLOE.23][$sj1 to true]] [[Stay silent [Grounded]|◎ Page 92-SOLOE.23][$sj2 to true]] [[Explain to her how you like things [Spoiled]|◎ Page 92-SOLOE.23]]

<<if $sj1>>\ “This place better be fucking spotless. I mean I-can-eat-off-the-floor spotless,” you order. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded - 0.2, 0, 100)> <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “Yes, Ma’am,” she replies. <<else>>\ “Yes, Sir,” she replies. <</if>>\ “You fuck something up and I’ll drag you by that bleach-blonde nest you call hair all around the room like a dog until you fix it,” you threaten. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “Yes, Ma’am,” she says again. “‘Yes Ma’am,’” you mimic with drama. You know you’re taking your frustrations out on her but you don’t care. She pretends she didn’t hear that and keeps cleaning. <<else>>\ “Yes, Sir,” she says again. “‘Yes Sir,’” you mimic with drama. You know you’re taking your frustrations out on her but you don’t care. She pretends she didn’t hear that and keeps cleaning. <</if>>\ <<elseif $sj2>>\ Your mind is too focused on how and when you’ll get out of here for you to give a shit about her. Nothing will make this dump any better anyway and frankly, you don’t have the spirit to be your usual self. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded + 0.2, 0, 100)>\ <<else>>\ “All the bedding needs to be tucked under the mattress so it doesn’t easily move. I want the three pillows arranged like a pyramid, the floor needs to be vacuumed at least three times, you need to rub that weird stain by the door with ammonia and the bathroom walls and floors should be scrubbed by hand,” you order. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded - 0.2, 0, 100)> She looks at you with confusion, “We don’t take requests and Mr. Perry likes things to be done as fast we can because he doesn’t like paying us—” You raise a hand, “Did I ask for your life story? No. I’m the customer and you’re going to do what I say or Mr. Perry will be hearing from me.” She looks away quickly. <</if>>\ As she starts picking up the bedding you threw on the floor, your mind starts wandering. It goes to a memory—a specific time like this you hadn’t thought of since it occurred years ago. <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ It was before you left for university. Your Ma wanted to have dinner with you, just the two of you, to talk like mothers and daughters do. <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ It was before you left for university. Your Ma wanted to have dinner with you, just the two of you, to talk like mothers and sons do. <<else>>\ It was before you left for university. Your Ma wanted to have dinner with you, just the two of you, to talk like mothers and children do. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 93|◎ Page 93-SOLOE.24]]

<h2>//__''1970''__//</h2>\ You flicked the glass champagne flute with your fingers. It dinged like it had many times before in the last 15 minutes. You sighed and leaned back in your chair. “Time won’t go by faster the more you do that, you know?” your Ma asked. You looked at her and sighed even louder. She tsked and took a sip of her water. She adjusted her bib and lightly touched the diamond ring on her finger. “We’ve been waiting 40 minutes, Ma,” you complained. “Isn't this supposed to be a high class joint? They should treat their customers like they’re a priority. Or at least me—” your mother gave you a knowing look, “—US! Like we’re the priority. I don’t give a shit about all the old cats here. They don’t need food that badly, they’re one sneeze to the face away from dying.” “Luce!” your mother whispered furiously. “Enough. People can hear you.” You raised an eyebrow, “So?” Your Ma looked down and rubbed her forehead. She clasped her hands together on the table and said slowly, as if she were talking to a <<cycle '$stupid' autoselect>><<option 'slow'>><<option 'retarded'>><</cycle>> person. “Luce, isn’t it impolite to say such things in public?” “In private?” “No,” she said sternly. “No one should be cruel. I've always tried to teach you to be respectful of the people around you. To be nice. Why can’t you be kinder?” You shrugged. “Why should I be if I don’t feel it? Why should I lie?” She shook her head. [[◎ Page 94|◎ Page 94-SOLOE.25]]

You leaned forward and mimicked her posture. “Isn’t lying a sin, Ma? Doesn’t the Bible say something about that?” She tilted her head and gave you a ‘really, Luce?’ look. You smiled. “The Bible also says to love one another as we are all children of God,” she responded. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“Not my fault everyone makes it so hard.”|◎ Page 95-SOLOE.26]] [[“What a load of crap.”|◎ Page 95-SOLOE.26]] [[“And I definitely do that.”|◎ Page 95-SOLOE.26]] [[You grunt|◎ Page 95-SOLOE.26]]

<<if $mat1>>\ “If everyone wasn’t such an idiot, a square and oblivious, then maybe I would find it easier to love my fellow man.” <<elseif $mat2>>\ You scoffed and then covered it up with a cough at the look of shock on your Ma’s face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be blasphemous.” <<elseif $mat3>>\ At her skeptical look, you plastered a grin on your face. “Honest, Ma.” <<elseif $mat4>>\ You’d had this fight so many times. <</if>>\ Before your Ma could begin her big sermon on loving thy neighbor, the waiter finally came with your orders. Your Ma got a medium rare steak slathered with onions. You got… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[The same without the onions|◎ Page 96-SOLOE.27]] [[A foie gras|◎ Page 96-SOLOE.27]] [[Wild mushroom risotto|◎ Page 96-SOLOE.27]] [[Seared scallops|◎ Page 96-SOLOE.27]]

The waiter set your plate down in front of you and you picked up your fork. It took less than a second to zero in on the problem. You dropped your fork on your plate loudly. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ Your Ma looked up from her food. The waiter—a man probably as old as your Ma—clasped his hands behind him and said, “Is there something wrong, Miss?” <<else>>\ Your Ma looked up from her food. The waiter—a man probably as old as your Ma—clasped his hands behind him and said, “Is there something wrong, Sir?” <</if>>\ You gestured rudely to your plate, “Are you fucking blind? This shit is undercooked.” <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ The waiter looked at your plate. “No, Miss, this meal is cooked exactly as it should be, I assure you.” <<else>>\ The waiter looked at your plate. “No, Sir, this meal is cooked exactly as it should be, I assure you.” <</if>>\ You scoffed and looked at your Ma incredulously, “Do you hear this fucking idiot, Ma?” “Luce,” your Ma chastised and threw an apologetic look at the waiter, “I’m sorry for my $luce.childTerm’s behavior, Jean-Luc. Are you sure the meal is cooked correctly?” “Yes, Ma’am I have served it many times.” “If you’ve been serving undercooked gruel to the brainless masses then this place should lose a star and you should lose your job,” you sneered. “What kind of loser works as a waiter at your age anyway?” “Luce!” your Ma hissed. The other patrons peered at your table, their mouths moving and their eyes full of judgment. [[◎ Page 97|◎ Page 97-SOLOE.28]]

You ignored your Ma and shoved the plate to the waiter. “Do it again. I don’t care who the fuck you have to talk to, get me what I asked for. You have no idea who my father is.” The waiter—you don’t bother to remember what your Ma called him—took the plate with a nod and without a word as he departed. You sighed, “You can’t ever find good help these days. They hire any old riffraff off the streets.” You clasped your hands across your stomach and looked at your Ma. She held the fork tightly in her hand and gave you an expression filled with utter disbelief. “What?” you asked. “It wasn’t my fault.” “That meal was fine. You just got it into your head that you know better. Even if you were wrong you could have asked politely,” she explained. “Why? When someone fucks up you shouldn’t have to treat them with kiddie gloves, Ma. Everyone is so damn sensitive,” you argued. Your Ma took a sip of her wine before she replied, slower and softer, “Luce, you are my $luce.childTerm and I love you. There are things I adore about your personality. You're headstrong, outspoken, fun, and determined.” You grinned, a feeling of pleasure blooming in your chest. You loved being praised. She was right, you were amazing. “But, sometimes I wish you could try to put yourself in someone else’s shoes. The world isn’t made up of conquerors and conquered. You don’t have to treat every interaction as if someone was trying to attack you first,” she said and reached over, her palm up. You leaned forward and took her hand. “Why do you always have to be on the defensive? What is there in your life that makes you feel like you’ll be attacked at any moment? Haven’t your Pa and I made sure you felt safe? That you have a normal life?” she asked, her voice wavering. You squeezed her hand and looked intently at it, you hadn’t wanted to see her cry. It made you feel sick and when you felt like that you said things without thinking. “I do have a normal life. Of course I’m safe, Ma,” you replied. You heard her sniff, “Then why do you act like this?” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“I don’t know.” [Spoiled]|◎ Page 98-SOLOE.29][$fo1 to true]] [[“I don’t want to be like this.” [Grounded]|◎ Page 98-SOLOE.29][$fo2 to true]] [[“Life is unexpected.” [Spoiled]|◎ Page 98-SOLOE.29][$fo3 to true]] [[You couldn’t respond [Grounded]|◎ Page 98-SOLOE.29]]

<<if $fo1>>\ “Maybe I’m just a major asshole,” you stated. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded - 0.2, 0, 100)>> “I don’t think that’s true.” <<elseif $fo2>>\ “Then why don’t you stop?” <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded + 0.2, 0, 100)>> You shrugged. “Never thought about it.” <<elseif $fo3>>\ “I always expect the unexpected to be bad so I react accordingly,” you replied. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded - 0.2, 0, 100)>> “That’s not a happy way to live.” <<else>>\ She raised your hand to her lips and kissed it softly. She then laid her cheek against it. She stared at you with eyes so full of motherly love that it made you squirm. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded + 0.2, 0, 100)>>\ <</if>>\ You looked around at the patrons who were back to their conversations like before. New York types. There was always something new that caught their interest. They were vapid, materialistic and fickle people. You couldn’t stand them. You’re weren’t as insufferable of course. “Luce?” your Ma pulled you away from your thoughts. “Hm?” “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to change who you are. This is just advice. You’re my baby, and whether you like it or not I will always be here to guide you,” she said. You smiled softly, “Yeah, unfortunately. I’ll be 90 at the nursing home and you’ll still be talking my ear off about love and forgiveness and yadda, yadda, yadda.” She laughed. Her laugh was just like yours. “I will and my newest advice is to treat waitstaff and servants in general with kindness.” “But what—” “What will that do for you? It could help you one day. Save your life. Or at the very least prevent a waiter from spitting in your food,” she said and let go of your hand. [[◎ Page 99|◎ Page 99-SOLOE.30]]

The older waiter was coming back with your food. “I don’t think so Ma. They’re nobodies.” Your Ma shook her head but you didn’t see it. So focused were you on your plate. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ The harsh curse your maid lets out from the bathroom is what makes you blink and leave the memory of your Ma. You don’t get up but you do lean over a bit to see into the bathroom. The maid is rubbing her head. “What happened?” you inquired. <<if $shower>>\ “There’s water on the floor. I slipped and hit my hip,” she says. “It’s fine, I have done it before.” <<else>>\ “There is wet toilet paper on the floor. I slipped and hit my hip,” she says. “It’s fine, I have done it before.” <</if>>| Your eyes travel down her face to her chest, stomach, legs and feet. She isn't ugly. She has strong, nice legs. A flat stomach and her chest isn’t great but it isn’t small either. You realize she’s not as old as she looks. She might be only a little older than you. She feels you watching her and looks back. Her eyes barely blink. Neither of you moves as if each of you is deciding to wait for the other to make a move. This girl looks smart. She looks like she’s seen all kinds of people pass by here. She looks at you like she knows something about you. Totally untrue and impossible, but you think she does it on purpose. She’s trying to rattle you. If Dante and his men came looking for you, would she tell them where you are? A good American buck can make anyone sing especially if you’re paid in wet stains and public hairs like she is. You don’t have enough money to buy her off… What did your Ma say? That you should use servants to be your lackeys so you can get what you want? But how will you do that? <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Be nice to her [Cunning]|◎ Page 100-SOLOE.31][$maid1 to true]] [[Fuck her [Seduction]|◎ Page 100-SOLOE.31][$maid2 to true]] [[Threaten her life [Intimidation]|◎ Page 100-SOLOE.31][$maid3 to true]]

<<if $maid1>>\ You scrunch your eyebrows together as you watch her work. There’s just so much wrong with her. What could you possibly say? <<set $Cunning += 0.2>> “You… you’ve worked here long?” you ask. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ The woman looks at you over her shoulder and goes back to straightening the blanket on the bed. “A couple of years, Miss.” <<else>>\ The woman looks at you over her shoulder and goes back to straightening the blanket on the bed. “A couple of years, Sir.” <</if>>\ You tap your finger against the arm rest. “Is this job really gross? I imagine it must be, due to how nasty people can be.” She shrugs. “I'm used to it.” “Right.” You squirm in your seat. You hate the feeling of being bad at something. No, you aren’t bad at this. She’s just not being receptive. This is why you don’t understand people who are nice. You never get anything out of it. You move to stand up and stretch your arms. The maid looks at you briefly. “Were you at a celebration last night?” You look down at your clothes. “Yeah. New Years.” “Was it fun?” You hear the sounds of bullets spraying into the crowd. “For a little bit, then it got—the party was over sooner than I expected,” you say wistfully. “That’s too bad,” she says. “What did you do on New Years?” you venture to ask, the words feeling foreign in your mouth. The friendly tone makes your teeth ache with its sweetness. Your Ma better be right. She fluffs the pillows. “I spent the night in because I had work in the morning.” “That sucks.” “I don’t mind. I’m not a party girl,” she replies. Booooooring. You try not to let the judgment show on your face. When she looks at you, you smile and she looks away to continue with her duties. You sit back down on the chair and wait until she’s finished. When she starts pushing the cart out the door half an hour later, you follow her and say, “Thank you.” She gives you a brief nod and you shut the door. <<elseif $maid2>>\ It counts as being nice, right? You’ll be so nice to her she won’t be able to get you out of her head for a week. You stand up and walk over to her while she’s bent over the bed, putting the fitted sheet over a corner. <<set $Seduction += 0.2>> You press yourself against her ass and place your hands gently on her hips. She freezes as you massage her hips with your fingers. The body beneath the uniform is a bit on the chubby side. Good enough to grab. <<if $cisf or $transf $nbf>>\ “Miss?” she asks. <<else>>\ “Sir?” she asks. <</if>>\ You put a leg up on the bed and start wriggling her ass on your crotch. “You know what I always believed in?” you ask as you roll your hips. “W-what?” she asks thickly. One hand travels up her back towards the zipper of her dress. “Breaks. Everyone needs breaks every once in a while. It’s inhumane to have you bending over with your ass in the air like that and not expect me to //demand// you take a break, right?” “I have to—” she begins but you pull the zipper down and you’re pleasantly surprised to see that it opens all the way down to the top of her underwear. Your fingers travel along the expanse of her back, you feel the light hairs along her spine. <<if $shower>>\ You get a whiff of your armpit and you grimace. It’s not your fault you couldn’t stand to be in that shower for long. You don’t think it will fuck with your seductive ability but you’ll keep your arms down for sure. <<else>>\ Good thing you washed. You never know when you’re about to be the best lay someone has ever had. <</if>>\ Her breath hitches as you roll up the bottom half of her dress past her jiggly ass. You grab one fleshy cheek in your hand and squeeze. She leans forward and lets out a little sigh. You run your fingers along the fabric of her underwear. Dipping them in every once in a while. “Do you think you should get that break?” She nods and falls face down on the bed as her ass rises up higher. You pull down her underwear and are greeted by a blonde bush that hides her pussy from your sight. When you bend down and taste her, she groans into the pillows. The sex is pretty standard. Nothing you haven’t seen. You make her pussy quiver on your tongue. You push her ass down onto the bed and push her legs open. <<if $cism or $transf or $nbm>>\ You stroke yourself with a few hard thrusts and some spit. <<else>>\ You think about playing with your clit but you want to get her off, not to get off. You don’t think she deserves it. <</if>>\ <<if $cism or $transf or $nbm>>\ You crawl in between her splayed legs and suck on your fingers before pushing them into her tender folds. You don’t bother apart from a few pumps before you line up the tip of your cock and push into the hilt. <<else>>\ You’ll make her cum again for your own ego and for good measure. She won’t tell anyone she saw you. You crawl in between her splayed legs and suck on your fingers before pushing them into her tender folds. <</if>>\ <<if $cism or $transf or $nbm>>\ She screams into the blanket and you don’t wait for her to adjust to your size before beginning your assault on her poor pussy. She clearly hasn’t gotten fucked this hard and this good by the way she’s pushing back into you. <<else>>\ You curl your fingers as you thrust inside of her: your thumb reaches up to circle her tiny little closed off anus. You gently rub it as your fingers attack her pussy with all you got. <</if>>\ You’re doing such a good deed. They should canonize you. Her boyfriend or husband hasn’t done something this good to her in years you bet. <<if $cism or $transf or $nbm>>\ It doesn’t take her long to cum and you abuse her sore pussy as you quicken your thrust to reach a subpar climax soon after her. You pull out last minute and finish on her back. <<else>>\ It doesn’t take much effort on your behalf to make her cum on your fingers. She loosens as a moan escapes her lips and you pull your fingers out. They glisten with her juices that you clean off on her uniform. <</if>>\ She lies thoroughly fucked on the bed. Cum leaking out of her hole. You fix your clothes and go to the bathroom to wash yourself off. You take a new wrapped soap from her cart and wash your hands. When you come back to the bed, she’s zipping up her dress. Her face is scarlet and she looks at her shoes. “I didn’t expect that,” she says softly. “Me neither, sister. It was fun though, right?” She nods shyly. “I still have to clean the bathroom and redo the bed.” You shake your head, “I don’t really need it. I'm going to be checking out in a few hours anyway.” “What?” she looks at you. “You’re leaving so soon?” You smirk. “Why? You gonna miss me already? You go fast.” The maid smooths down her dress. “I thought maybe we could go for a coffee after my shift is done?” You make an uncomfortable face. “Sorry. No can do.” “Why? Don’t you like me? I know I don’t look my best but I swear when I get cleaned up—” <<if $cism or $transm or $nbm>>\ “I have a fiancée,” you interject. “He’s waiting for me.” <<else>>\ “I have a fiancé,” you interject. You show her your ring finger. “She’s waiting for me.” <</if>>\ The lady looks down at her feet again. “Oh.” You expect her to say more but when she doesn’t and instead shuffles to her cart you eagerly go to the door and open it for her. She doesn’t look at you as she crosses the threshold. You eye her ass and think: //not bad at all.// She starts carting away to the next room when you say, “Hey. For what it’s worth, that was nice.” Totally bullshit. “I had a good time.” Lying is a sin. She looks at you and offers you a small smile before knocking on the next door. You close the door. <<elseif $maid3>>\ You glare at her and walk over to the nightstand. You pull open the drawer and take out your gun. You caress the barrel and say, “Hey, maid. What do you think of this?” <<set $Intimidation += 0.2>> She looks up from putting on the fitted sheet to see you lazily holding the gun. It’s pointed at the bed, very close to her hands. She freezes and her eyes widen. “It’s small. Very feminine but easily conceivable. Do you think it’s registered? I don’t. If someone were to be shot with this, I think no one would ever find who did it.” The maid raises her hands. “I haven’t done anything. I don’t know anything. I don’t have money on me but I do have it in my car. If you want we can go there but please don’t hurt me.” You yawn. “God, you don’t put up much of a fight, do you? Pathetic, really. But whatever.” You walk over to her and lift the gun to point at her chest. Her hands are raised higher now and she's trembling, her eyes going from the gun to you. “I don’t need your fucking money. It's pocket change compared to what I have. What I want is for you to keep that little stinky trap shut about me, ok? Think you can do that?” She shakes, her lower lip vibrating like she’s having a mini epilepsy fit. You raise the gun to her face, right in between her eyes. “Can you do that?” She nods, her neck stiff. “I didn’t hear you.” “Yes! Yes, I won’t say anything!” “You promise?” you ask as you let the barrel touch her skin. “I PROMISE ON MY MOTHER’S LIFE!” she exclaims. “I PROMISE I PROMISE!” You smile, satisfied, and lower the gun, tucking it back where you kept it. You gesture to the room, “Keep cleaning.” You sit back down on the chair and watch her like a hawk as she cleans the room and the bathroom. She never stops shaking and constantly drops her cleaning products. When she asks you if she can leave and you say yes, she pushes her cart out the door like she wants to ram it into something. She looks behind her at you and you give her a little wave and smile. “Remember what we agreed on.” You then close the door on her terrified face. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 101|◎ Page 101-SOLOE.32]]

Your stomach once again rumbles with hunger. The maid did tell you about that place… what was it? The Golden Shoe? What is it with this place and awful names? You poke your head out the door and look from right to left before you hop into the car and head down the road. It’s hard to miss it. It’s a dump with a shoe that’s missing its tip. You park in front of it and your nose wrinkles as you squint and peer inside. It looks like a diner. Crappy red booths, tables, and low hanging lights that flicker. You press your forehead against the steering wheel and let the car horn go for a few seconds before swallowing any vomit you might have and getting out of the car. The door chimes when you come in. There’s a few solitary people sitting at the booths, drinking coffee and some at the counter in those stools that swivel. A few eyes glance at you before lazily looking away. Your shoes make a sticky sounding noise on the yellowed floor as you look for a booth and sit down. The table top still has a few crumbs from the previous diners. You refuse to lay your arms on that thing. The place smells of bacon grease and cigarettes. The light directly above buzzes like those fluorescent ones at hospitals. You take the menu and start flipping through it. [[◎ Page 102|◎ Page 102-SOLOE.33]]

<<audio "organ" loop play>>\ There’s pictures of pancakes topped with cream and strawberries, hot coffee, waffles drizzled with chocolate sauce and bananas, bacon with eggs and sausages; all too good to be true if you’re being honest. Isn’t a joint like this supposed to stop serving breakfast this late? “A dump like this has burnt toast and day old reheated coffee,” you mumble. Maybe you should get out of here. You could get like…, what’s a rare disease? Uh, salmonella? Ebola? You could get salmonella. This joint doesn’t look like the standard in responsible food handling. A waitress comes over to you with a chipper smile and an even more chipper attitude. “Hello,” she greets. “English?” you ask. She pinches her fingers. “I little good.” You rub your finger under your nose and point to the pictures of the food you want. The girl leans forward and starts scribbling. Her nails are painted hot pink and she’s wearing street threads. The only thing that tells you she works here is that she’s taking your order and that she’s wearing an apron around her waist. She puts her hand palm down, in a straight line and slightly jerks it to the side, as if asking ‘that’s it, right?’ You nod and she nods too. She walks away with a literal pep in her step. What does she have to be so happy about? Your life is currently shit. You don’t think it could get any worse and everyone else in the world should not be happy in commiseration. Just for that, you think you’re going to make her shift a living hell. That usually makes you feel better and don’t you deserve it? 1975 has to be your year and it didn’t start out that way. Fine! You’ll just force it to be. //You don’t bend to the world, Luce. It bends to you.// [[◎ Page 103|◎ Page 103-SOLOE.34]]

You press your thumbs between your eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh. You called hours ago. Yeah the cat told you to wait but how long does it take? It’s felt like days. This is what happens when you depend upon people. You cross your arms over the menu and rest your chin on them. Why don’t you leave on your own? You have a car. You could cross the border maybe. Then get a plane ticket out to… New York? There’s something really fishy about all of this. Why haven’t you heard from your Pa? He knows everything. You could swear sometimes the man was psychic. Maybe if you try one of the safe houses he’ll pick up? Wire you some money for a ticket all the way to your family? You think about the money. About the gas. Wasn't there something about the oil a few years ago? You didn’t care to know what, but you know the gas prices were high. Your Pa wouldn’t stop complaining about it. “Damn Jews,” he would say. “You’re being a bigot, honey,” your Ma would respond. “Uh, damn Israelites,” he would correct himself. Your eyebrows furrow. Why are you thinking so much about your family? It’s not that you forget them when you aren’t home, but in the last 12 hours, they’ve been on your mind more than ever. A weird sinking feeling has been steadily growing inside of you. You thought it was because of the massacre of last night, that because you didn’t cry it’s showing up in different ways. Marcela said something about trauma responses once. You hadn’t paid much attention. But maybe the reason you’re starting to feel sick is because— [[◎ Page 104|◎ Page 104-SOLOE.35]]

No. No. Your folks and your sister are ok. Everything is fucked now but they’re fine. The doubts you’ve been having are because you’re in a bad mood. You’re just being a dramatic pussy. You sit straight up and look around for a distraction from your feelings. There’s a television on a ledge behind the counter. The quality’s grainy and the images constantly static over but you catch glimpses of a Christmas movie. By the looks of it, it’s //Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer//. Bianca is obsessed with watching this movie every year on Christmas and she would force the whole family to sit down in the living room and watch it with her. Even Lazlo would come sulk in the corner because she asked. <<lazloIncest>>\ Something he wouldn't even do for you, although he adored you.<</lazloIncest>> You smile softly. You wonder if she’s ok. Bianca can be an annoying brat when she really gets it into her head. She’s impulsive, likes to take your things and walks around like everyone will do her bidding if she bats her adorable eyes just right. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Like you|◎ Page 105-SOLOE.36][$bb1 to true]] [[You don’t know where she gets it from|◎ Page 105-SOLOE.36][$bb2 to true]] [[You pretend to not be under her spell|◎ Page 105-SOLOE.36][$bb3 to true]]

<<if $bb1>>\ Manipulative little cunt. You love her. <<elseif $bb2>>\ Your parents have spoiled her. <<elseif $bb3>>\ And you’re mostly good at it. She looks so cute when she pouts. <</if>>\ You missed Christmas this year—last year—and she hadn’t spoken to you since. When you called home on the 25th, she didn’t come to the phone. Your plan was to call your family today or wait until they called you. It was usually one or the other. Next year, you won’t miss it. Even though you’ve fucking seen Rudolph, with his clown nose, accept himself about 10 times. //Wow, Luce, growing sentimental? What’s gotten into you?// You rub your eyes, letting one hand fall down your face and pull a bit at your mouth before falling off your chin. You look for the waitress who hasn’t come back since you ordered. You look around and the rest of the diners seem to have gotten their food already, so why is it taking so long? It probably wasn’t that long ago but you have never been a charitable person, much less when you’re starving for instant coffee and microwave-heated thawed bacon. Your eyes meet several people. Some of them seem to look through you—rude!—and others look away. For some reason, the back of your neck feels prickly and your heartbeat races. You look around your seat again. You look slowly at everyone in the diner. These people are unremarkable as far as fashion goes. Regular to kind of ugly. They have a smell to them that can only be attributed to five and dime detergent. Nobodies. [[◎ Page 106|◎ Page 106-SOLOE.37]]

<<audio "organ" fadeout>>\ You fidget. You look at the television screen and then at the door that leads to the kitchen. You rub your neck. You look around and catch the eyes of the same people you did before. You clasp your hands and look at them. You fidget. You growl lowly and look around again. You’re not a person that is all about the facts. Who reads these days? But you do have a pretty good gut. It rarely lets you down and right now your gut is telling you that you need to leave this place. You feel your body ready to spring up and get the hell out of dodge. But you don’t want to go hungry for no reason. You slowly stand up and one diner looks up from his paper. He has a red pen clutched in his hand. You hadn’t really noticed him before. He looks older, but not old enough to be balding like the rest of them. His clothes aren’t anything special. Black blazer. A bit long for someone who looks like him. Black pants. Black leather shoes. Nothing that should make you slowly and stiffly walk towards the bathroom—which is in the opposite direction of the front exit—as you are doing now. There’s just something about his eyes. They seem so… perceptive. You chance a single glance at him before you pass into the bathroom and he’s still staring at you, his hand poised above his newspaper. The stink of the bathroom nearly makes your eyes water. You cover your nose and turn on the tap, leaning against the sink, you take a moment to think. You aren’t sure. All this shit has you paranoid. The guy could just be a poor, sad sack of shit enjoying his abysmal coffee in a lead-covered mug. Your ass would look really fucking pathetic if you crawled out the window you’re currently looking at because of a //feeling//. But your ass could also look fucking pathetic if you’re right and go out there, and then get kidnapped in the parking lot in front of all these wastes of human space who won’t call the police. Damned if you do and damned if you don’t. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Go back outside|◎ Page 107-SOLOE.38][$diner1 to true]] [[Escape through the window|◎ Page 107-SOLOE.38]]

<<audio "silly" loop play>>\ <<if $diner1>>\ You’re being a paranoid pussy. Not everyone is out to get you. You chose this side of the city because it would be the last place they’d look. The Grecos have power but not as much here. You splash some water on your face and leave the bathroom after giving yourself a pep talk. You slap yourself lightly on the cheeks and stiffly go back to your seat. You try not to stare at the man as you slide into the booth. Your food still hasn’t been delivered. You play around with the sugar packets, dumping them onto the table and making figures with your fingers. The front door chimes and another man comes in. He’s dressed identically to the other man sitting down. This one does look at you immediately, and before you can even think he reaches into the holster under his coat and pulls out a gun. You dive under the table as a bullet whizzes into the seat you were sitting in, Some woman screams. Patrons fall to the ground, coffee spills on the floor and plates crack against the linoleum. “We aren’t supposed to kill $luce.obj!” one of them hisses to the other. The man who shot at you replies, “I was aiming for $luce.possAdj arm.” “Well that was a lousy aim.” “Shut the fuck up Tommy!” You take advantage of their bickering and crawl quickly over to the counter. A man yelps as your knee crushes his hand. This is feeling very familiar. [[◎ Page 108|◎ Page 108-SOLOE.39]] <<else>>\ You groan and walk over to the window. You make a face of pure disgust when you see the amount of dust and cobwebs on it. When was the last time you got your tetanus shot? You make a whiny petulant noise in your throat as you push the window up—which screeches magnificently by the way—and cough as a cloud of dust flies into your face. You gag and spit the dirt out of your mouth. You run a hand over your eyes as they burn. “Ugh, if I get cataracts or something, I’m taking the waitress here as reparation.” Bitch never even came back with your order. You don’t have to look, you just know, ok? You finish cleaning your face and heave yourself up over the ledge, swing your legs to the other side and drop onto the ground. You’re still clearing your sinuses of dust as you stealthily—totally stealthy—press your back against the wall and slide your body to the edge of the building. You craned your head to see behind the corner at the parking lot. There’s Charley’s car and you think it’s the same amount of cars as before… you didn't pay attention— A black car with tinted windows rolls into the parking lot. It slowly crawls to one of the spaces in front of the diner and stops. Coincidentally right next to your car. Could this day get any worse? [[◎ Page 108|◎ Page 108-SOLOE.39]] <</if>>\

<<if $diner1>>\ You go behind the counter and find the waitress sitting on the ground with her hands over her ears. She’s rocking herself. <<if $cism or $transm>>\ “MISTER LUCE PLEASE COME! HERE WE DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU!” one of the men yells. <<elseif $cisf or $transf>>\ “MISS LUCE PLEASE COME HERE! WE DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU!” one of the men yells. <<else>>\ “LUCE PLEASE COME HERE! WE DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU!” one of the men yells. <</if>>\ “MY ASS!” you yell back. You look around for anything you can use as a weapon. You grab a steak knife and… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Use the waitress as a shield [Ruthless]|◎ Page 109-SOLOE.40][$host to true]] [[Crawl to the kitchen [Merciful]|◎ Page 109-SOLOE.40]] <<else>>\ The car idles for a moment before the engine is turned off and out steps a man dressed in black. He’s tall and broad, clearly someone who is used to exercising or punching the shit out of people. You watch for a moment as he looks into the diner. At what? You don’t know, but as he looks at his target, you look at him. You wouldn’t say he’s dressed identically to the other man inside but there is a sort of cohesion between their outfits. But right as you think you’re overthinking things, there’s a gust of wind and his jacket is pushed aside to reveal a gun in the waistband of his pants. You feel your blood turn cold. You recognize that gun. You can’t name it because you know shit-all about weapons but it looks very similar to the regular guns the men that work for your Pa use. The man walks towards the front door and steps inside. You rub a hand down your face and press your palm against the wall. Looking up at the blue sky, you curse everything you know. Including God, which you feel a bit guilty for. Of course things could get worse. It seems that the big man upstairs woke up yesterday and decided to fuck with you. For no reason. You’re a pretty good person. Anyone who says otherwise is seeking your downfall and is probably jealous because they cry when they look in the mirror. [[◎ Page 109|◎ Page 109-SOLOE.40]] <</if>>\

<<if $diner1>>\ <<if $host>>\ You don’t think. You just do. You yank the waitress’s hair and pull her up. You put her in front of you and press the knife to her throat. The two Greco henchmen stand across the counter with their guns out. They both look extremely confused at what’s going on. <<set $Merciful = Math.clamp($Merciful - 0.2, 0, 100)>> “PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!” the waitress begs. “SHUT UP!” you snap and press the blade in harder. “Maybe if you would’ve brought my breakfast to me I would’ve been nicer.” “WHAT?! YOU’RE TRYING TO KILL ME BECAUSE OF SOME STUPID FUCKING BREAKFAST?!” she yells. “YEAH! SO WHAT?!” you yell back. “‘I SPEAK LITTLE’ MY ASS!” <<if $cism or $transm>>\ The goons both look at each other and then back at you. “Mister Luce, we can leave here the easy way. There’s no need for us to hurt you.” <<elseif $cisf or $transf>>\ The goons both look at each other and then back at you. “Miss Luce, we can leave here the easy way. There’s no need for us to hurt you.” <<else>>\ The goons both look at each other and then back at you. “Luce, we can leave here the easy way. There’s no need for us to hurt you.” <</if>>\ You slowly start backing towards the door to the kitchen. “There isn’t,” you reply and kick the door back with your heel. The goon closest to you sighs and lifts his gun. You duck behind the wall next to the door as the bullet hits the small window of the kitchen. You look behind you and see two cooks on their knees, both looking up at you with fear. <<if $cism or $transm or $nbm>>\ “Don’t hurt us, Mister,” the youngest one pleads. <<elseif $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “Don’t hurt us, Miss,” the youngest one pleads. <</if>>\ “<<print $luce.subjCap.toUpperFirst()>> IS NOT THE ONE WITH THE GUN. JUST TAKE THE KNIFE FROM $luce.obj!” the waitress barks. You press the blade in deeper and she lets out a sound of pain as blood trickles onto your fingers. You slowly walk along the kitchen towards another door that you assume leads to the outside. The kitchen door opens and the two men look tired as they watch you back up. They both have their guns trained on you—or rather the girl—and they look almost bored. In spite of the life or death situation, that honestly pisses you off. <<if $cism or $transm>>\ “Mister Luce—” <<elseif $cisf or $transf>>\ “Miss Luce—” <<else>>\ “Luce—” <</if>>\ You throw the bleeding waitress at them and push open the door. Your feet touch gravel and you’re running towards your car. Bullet sounds erupt from behind you and you want to go to your car but it’s too far. Even if you get there, you’ll waste precious moments turning it on and backing up. [[◎ Page 110|◎ Page 110-SOLOE.41]] <<else>>\ You quickly crawl over to the door and slightly slip into the kitchen. You see two cooks sitting on the floor. <<set $Merciful = Math.clamp($Merciful + 0.2, 0, 100)>> “What’s going on? We heard gunshots,” the youngest one asks. You ignore him and stand up. You notice a door across from you and run to it, pushing it open and almost landing on your knees. Your shoes touch the gravel. You don’t stop to think. You can’t. Running on instinct, you sprint to your car and wrench the door open. You turn on the engine and a bullet slams into the window. It gets stuck in the glass and you look for where it came from. One of the henchmen has his gun raised inside the diner. The front window is shattered and he and his friend are walking through it and towards you. You don’t know if you meant to do what you do next. But your foot presses down on the gas and you gun for them. They try to move out of the way but you hit the one who shot at you. He goes flying onto the pavement and you change gears and reverse before the other one who ducked out of the way can get to you. You steer the car around and lurch onto the road. An incoming car honks loudly at you as it swerves out of the way. You turn right and look quickly over your shoulder. The one you didn’t hit isn’t even in a car already after you. He’s crouched near the fallen friend of his. To say you break several speeding limits to get back to the motel is an understatement. You have to slam down on the brakes before you hit your room with your car. Your room door that has a person standing in front of it. [[◎ Page 110|◎ Page 110-SOLOE.41]] <</if>>\ <<else>>\ You look back at your car. You don’t know what’s going on inside. But the whole point is to leave this place and you have no choice but to run to it. You swear a string of very creative terms in your head as you sprint to the car. The stupidest and most desperate idea you’ve ever had. You feel so embarrassed as you run to your car and throw open the door. You know these good-for-nothing diners are staring and judging: ‘Hey, look at that little weirdo, did $luce.subj just jump out from the bathroom window?’ You slam the door shut, turn on the engine and don’t waste time putting on your seatbelt as you back up with a screech and a jolt as your car hits another one behind you. “Oops,” you hiss but keep backing up regardless, as the car behind you screams with the sliding of metal against metal. You hear a yell from the waitress who comes running out of the diner, waving her hands with a look of teary fury on her face. Her mouth is moving in short angry bursts and spit is falling down her chin. You throw her a sheepish smile and drive away. You look through the rear view and see the two men come out at the same time with the other diners to witness the waitress run to her car. But unlike the other diners, the men aren’t looking at the waitress. They’re looking at you. Their eyes follow you in unison, their faces set in stone. It makes your heart beat faster and you press your foot down on the pedal. You don’t stop for pedestrians or red lights as you race back to the motel. You’ll have to grab what little shit you have, throw some money at the balding front desk guy and high-tail it out of there. You see the sign for the pink slipper and you feel like you’re going to be sick. If somehow they figured out you’re in this area, might they already have infiltrated the motel? It’s a long-shot because if they knew, they could have gotten you when you were asleep since you did wake up late. Could the guys from the diner have called someone here to wait for you? <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Go interrogate the front desk guy first|◎ Page 110-SOLOE.41][$ho1 to true]] [[Fuck it. Go directly to the room|◎ Page 110-SOLOE.41]] <</if>>\

<<if $diner1>>\ <<if $host>>\ “Ah, fuck!” you curse and start running towards the street. You look behind you as you run and the men are chasing after you. You sprint towards the street and you don’t stop to look if any cars are coming. Who could fault you? <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ But because you don’t, you don’t see the car coming. You hear: “MISS!” <<else>>\ But because you don’t, you don’t see the car coming. You hear: “SIR!” <</if>>\ You don’t look at the car that hits you, barely register the pain and you can’t even process a thought as your head slams onto the hard concrete and glass flies into your hair and onto your face. You feel all the air rushing out of your lungs. Your eyes find the blue sky and your neck feels too stiff to move. <<audio "silly" fadeout>>\ Your whole body, for that matter. Out of all the things that could happen… Something wet seeps along the back of your head. The sky is so bright now. You hear voices, well, the sounds of what should be voices. You see shadows coming into your vision, standing over you. But you can’t make them out. They touch you but you can’t feel them. You blink slowly. And slower still you breathe. Your heart beat slows in your ears and you think it’s a good idea to close your eyes. So you do. And they never open again. You’re buried in the family plot in upper New York State. Your adopted brother stays by your graveside for hours into the night. He makes a promise to you. Over the next five years, he hunts down those who indirectly and directly killed you. The massacre that ushers the 80s leaves so many bodies, some that are never identified. By the time the cartels start conquering territory in the mid 80s, most of the families are dead or in jail. One day, Lazlo Fisher disappears. Some say he turned informant for the FBI, others that he was killed and dumped into the Atlantic, some whisper he’s still alive out there, living a quiet existence with his demons that scream in his head. The only Greco who survives is Carmen and she spends the rest of her life in a federal prison for murdering an undercover agent. Some remember Charley fondly in the agency. But as brown women tend to be forgotten, her name is filed away as a casualty and nothing more. <h2>END OF DEMO</h2> <<else>>\ <<if $mafia>>\ You’re about to reverse out of there or commit another act of vehicular manslaughter if it comes down to it, when the person turns around. Lazlo’s face, full of surprise at seeing you, makes you cover your face with your hands and cry. He opens the door and pulls you out. “Luce, what happened?” he asks gently, running a hand down your back. You shake your head. “Get me out of here, now. I want to see Pa, Ma and Bee.” You uncover your face and look around. There’s a car a few spaces down with a man you recognize from how long he’s worked for your Pa. You look at Lazlo, who’s already looking at you with that worried expression of his you loathe. “Why did only you and one guard come? Where’s the backup? Why wouldn’t Pa pull out all the stops to come and get me?!” your voice rises without input from you. “Luce, we have to go now,” Lazlo responds gently like he’s talking to a child. You slap his hands away. “Where are my mom and dad?” you ask desperately. Lazlo blinks several times and looks away. “I’m sorry,” he says and pulls you towards the other car despite your protests, your threats and your tears. <<elseif $fbi>>\ A man you’ve never seen before walks over to your side of the car and without asking, he opens it. “What the—” he doesn’t let you finish and grabs your arm to pull you out of the car. “LET GO OF ME YOU CREEP!” you yell and shove him away. The man looks irritated as he grabs your arm again and tries to drag you to a strange black van. “I’m not going anywhere! I’ll scream! Someone will call the cops!” you yell and try to shove him away again. The man huffs and cocks his head towards the van. Immediately the back door slides open and four men, dressed with flak vests, jump out and start coming towards you. You look at the man with panicked eyes and a racing heart. “What the hell is this? Do you work for the Grecos?! You can’t just kidnap me in broad daylight and expect no one to snitch! My dad is friends with many cops! I’d like to see you handle the beating they’re gonna give you in the interrogation room!” <<audio "silly" fadeout>>\ The man’s lip twitches and his fingers dig into your skin. The man says with a smile, “Luce $surname, we are the cops.” His face is the last thing you see before one of the men puts a bag over your head and you’re overpowered, dragged to the van and thrown in like trash. <</if>>\ <h2>END OF DEMO</h2> <</if>>\ <<else>>\ <<if $ho1>>\ You slam the door of your car and with hurried steps you walk towards the lobby, thrust open the door and walk up to the desk. The guy behind the desk—Mr. Perry?—sits there, chowing down on a hotdog. You note with disgust that mustard slips down his fingers. His pit stains are growing by the second. You slam your hand down on the little bell. He looks up from his porn magazine and you hit the bell again. “What do you want, number 7?” he asks, his mouth full of chewed food. “I want you to chew your food before you talk, but apart from that, I want to know if there was anyone around here asking about me?” Mr. Perry puts down his hotdog and starts licking his fat, hairy fingers. Your lip curls and you focus on the big-tittied black woman on the cover of his magazine. Look at //Playboy// being progressive. “A couple of guys were asking who that car belonged to parked in front of number 7, earlier,” he responds. You sigh, “And you didn’t think this was information I needed to know?” “I’m telling you now. I have bad knees. I can't be walking to your room,” he says, “Without some compensation.” “Did you tell them about me?” you ask with a clenched jaw. Mr. Perry leans back in his chair and takes his hotdog back, shoving it into his mouth like a barbarian. “Oh, fuck you, man,” you spit. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “I’m not a snitch. I thought those guys were cops. If they would’ve paid me then I would’ve seen said. You’re lucky cutie,” he says. “Suck my suck my tit,” you snap and walk out. “Is that a real offer?” <<else>>\ “I’m not a snitch. I thought those guys were cops. If they would’ve paid me then I would’ve said what I’d seen. You’re lucky boy,” he says. “Suck my dick,” you snap and walk out. “I don’t want any fags here!” <</if>>\ You start walking towards the car and slowly stop in the parking lot. You close your eyes for a moment. “Fuck,” you whisper. They must’ve recognized Charley’s car. They must’ve followed you last night and you didn’t notice. Why didn’t they just take you then? Maybe they lost your trail and only found it now? You pull at your hair, “FUCK!” This might be the second dumbest thing you have done today. Only history will vindicate your stupidity. You don’t drive up to your door. Even if you’re making stupid choices, you don’t have to be brain dead. You park a little ways from the front door of your room. You turn off the car and step out. You shut the door behind you and take a deep breath. In… 1… 2…3. Out… 1…2… 3. You walk in the opposite direction and head to the back of the motel. You count the windows you pass. Once you count 7, you walk over to the window and press your face against it, cupping your hands around your eyes as binoculars to see inside. The bathroom door is only slightly ajar. You can just make out the edge of the bed. You strain your ears to hear any movement, like a bed creaking or a rustling of clothes. <<audio "silly" fadeout>> You don’t hear anything but that could be due to the thick window. Despite your misgivings—or because of them—you once again open a window and push yourself through. You jump down and freeze, thinking that the bathroom door will fly open and a series of pops will be heard before you lose consciousness forever. But there are no sounds of footsteps as proof that you’ve been found out by your executioner. You look confusedly at the door before shutting the window and going into the room. <<else>>\ This might be the second dumbest thing you have done today. Only history will vindicate your stupidity. You don’t drive up to your door. Even if you’re making stupid choices, you don’t have to be brain dead. You park a little ways from the front door of your room. <<audio "silly" fadeout>> You turn off the car and step out. You shut the door behind you and take a deep breath. In… 1… 2…3. Out… 1…2… 3. You walk in the opposite direction and head to the back of the motel. You count the windows you pass. Once you count 7, you walk over to the window and press your face against it, cupping your hands around your eyes as binoculars to see inside. The bathroom door is only slightly ajar. You can just make out the edge of the bed. You strain your ears to hear any movement, like a bed creaking or a rustling of clothes. You don’t hear anything but that could be due to the thick window. Despite your misgivings—or because of them—you once again open a window and push yourself through. You jump down and freeze, thinking that the bathroom door will fly open and a series of pops will be heard before you lose consciousness forever. But there are no sounds of footsteps as proof that you’ve been found out by your executioner. You look confusedly at the door before shutting the window and going into the room. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 111|◎ Page 111-SOLOE.42]] <</if>>\

It’s just as you left it, tidy. Someone could’ve still been in here but it would make no sense if they didn’t use this chance to ambush you. Maybe your luck is finally coming back to you. You could almost smile. But the universe really wants to fuck with you. You hear car doors slam loudly and a series of footsteps. No one has checked in since you did last night, so you go to the window and peek out between the slits of the curtains that haven’t been dusted since 1947. Through that little slit you see the two men from the diner. They’re looking around, one of them pointing to a room a few doors away from you and the other shaking his head. You feel your throat start to tighten and so you back away from the window and look around. You go for the drawer of the nightstand and pull out the gun. It feels heavy and foreign in your hands. Almost fake. You’ve never shot one before. Could you shoot these guys? If they came through the door, would you be able to do it? You grip the barrel and swallow to try and get rid of the lump forming there. Your Pa never taught you. It’s not like you were scrambling to know how. You clench your teeth and close your eyes tightly. This isn’t supposed to be what you’re doing. You were supposed to be waking up from falling asleep at 6am with your feet sore, alcohol on your breath and a fragmented memory of the night before, as Marcey brings you a remedy for hangovers. You should be home. Where’s your Pa? You feel your knees starting to buckle. Then there’s a knock on the door and it feels like this was a sort of respite between the massacre of last night and the massacre of today. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Hide|◎ Page 112-SOLOE.43][$escape1 to true]] [[Pretend to be someone else|◎ Page 112-SOLOE.43][$escape2 to true]] [[Prepare to shoot|◎ Page 112-SOLOE.43][$escape3 to true]]

<<audio "confrontation" loop play>>\ <<if $escape1>>\ You anxiously look all around the room, your eyes even traveling to the ceiling as if that would fucking help. You fall to your knees and look at the space under the bed. There’s more knocking. It’ll be a tight fit. You’ll be almost suffocating but they’ll likely think the bed has no elevation for anyone to hide under. The knocking turns into pounding against the door and the knob starts wriggling. You blow out your cheeks, say a quick Hail Mary and crawl under the bed. Your ribs push painfully against the rest of you as you only manage to wedge in tightly. Your arm still peeks out from under the bed and you have to squeeze it closer to your body. You have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. There’s a loud pound on the door. Then another one. Finally, one more and the door bursts open with a loud bang against the wall it slams into. Underneath the blanket, there’s a sliver of light you can see from the sunlight coming in. You see two sets of shoes walk into the room. Their footsteps muffled against the carpet. They pause for a moment. “Are you sure this is the right room, Tommy?” “It’s the right car, Marcelo,” the guy called Tommy replies. “What if the kid went on foot?” Marcelo asks. “$luce.subjCap would have to be really stupid to leave the car.” “From what I can tell, that kid is a stupid spoiled brat.” You glare at the feet of the one who said that. You bite your tongue to keep from doing something actually stupid. [[◎ Page 113|◎ Page 113-SOLOE.44]] <<elseif $escape2>>\ You’ve seen it in movies. It should work, right? You huff. It’s not like you have other options. There’s the gun. But you’ve never shot someone and you really don’t want to have a panic attack. It’d be so embarrassing to get all freaked out in front of lackeys because you know the— Another loud knock interrupts your racing thoughts. Rude. You clear your throat and pitch it… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Low|◎ Page 113-SOLOE.44][$low to true]] [[High|◎ Page 113-SOLOE.44]] <<elseif $escape3>>\ You go for the gun. It’s clearly suicide, what you’re about to do. You’ve never shot one of these before. Charley wanted you to and maybe you could’ve saved her life— No. That was her fault. She was the one supposed to protect you, not the other way around. With as much confidence as you can muster—which for this isn’t that much—you point the gun at the door and say loudly, “Get the fuck away from my door or I’ll blow your head off.” The knocking stops abruptly and you hear talking, but lowering yourself down on the floor, you see that the two men are still there. <<if $cism or $transm>>\ “Mister Luce? We work for the Grecos. We don’t want you to hurt yourself—” <<elseif $cisf or $transf>>\ “Miss Luce? We work for the Grecos. We don’t want you to hurt yourself—” <<else>>\ “Luce? We work for the Grecos. We don’t want you to hurt yourself—” <</if>>\ You press the trigger before he can finish and the bullet burrows into the wood of the door. [[◎ Page 113|◎ Page 113-SOLOE.44]] <</if>>\

<<if $escape1>>\ “Let’s look around,” Tommy suggests. “I’ll walk around the motel, you search the room,” Marcelo commands. He leaves and you slightly relax. Tommy goes directly to the bathroom and you hear the shower curtain being pulled open. You look at the door. Could you run to the car and leave while the guy called… Tobey? Timmy? Searches the bathroom? <<if $maid3>>\ As you’re thinking, you feel a hand wrap itself around your ankle and pull you out from under the bed. Your nails dig into the carpet as you try to pull away. You’re flipped to your side and Tommy is standing over you, a gun pointed at your face. He looks serious as he says, “Don’t do anything stupid <<print $luce.prefix.toUpperFirst()>>.” “How did you know I was here?” you ask, your voice coming out shaky. “Please let me go.” “A maid told us,” Tanner—Tony—Thomas says. You feel tears spring from your eyes and you get angry with yourself at your lack of pride. “Just let me go, I swear, I’ll hide better. Your boss won’t find me,” you state. Tommy shakes his head, “You have to come with me.” You kick him in the shin and he startles, which you use as a chance to get up and run. A shot rings out right as you reach the door and you feel a sharp, burning pain on your thigh. You fall to the ground. You hear footsteps and try to get up but your leg is on fire. A pair of shoes stops in front of where you’re sprawled and before you can look up, you’re kicked hard in the face. After that, the lights go out. <<audio "confrontation" loop play>> [[◎ Page 70|◎ Page 70-KIDNAP.1]] <<else>>\ You only have a split second to decide, and you choose to risk it. You pull yourself out from under the bed and don’t even take a moment to breathe deeply before scrambling to the door. You run out of the room and right when you almost reach the door of the car, a shot rings out. You stop and breathe in and out through your mouth. Goosebumps form on your arms as you slowly look behind you. Tommy stands there with a gun trained on you. He’s a big man. Larger than you, even if he wasn’t holding a gun, you couldn’t take him mano a mano. “Stop right there, <<print $luce.prefix.toUpperFirst()>>,” he says and takes a step closer. “I need you to come with me.” “Or what? You’ll kill me? Isn’t that what will happen if you take me alive to your boss? Either way I’m pretty fucked, Trevor,” you reply. He looks puzzled as he asks, “Trevor?” You hear the screeching of tires as a car comes barreling into the parking lot. The door pops open and out comes Dante Greco, his gun already on you. He holds a large smile as his men come out of the car too, their guns in their hands. “LUCE! I’ve been lookin’ for you all day! Kind of fucking rude to leave your party like that. Some of my guys are dead and that cute little Fed friend of yours is too,” he says. “No big loss there. But there is a big win… not for you, obviously. Poor little Luce, all alone and without anyone to protect $luce.obj,” he taunts as he walks closer. “Do you ever stop talking?” you ask snippily. “Or are we beginning our torture session early?” Dante cackles. “That’s what I like to see. Some fucking fire.” A man—who you think is probably Marcelo—walks onto the scene, his gun already out. Dante looks at you with a smirk, “Looks like you’re surrounded, baby. Come with me nicely and I won’t hurt that lovely face of yours that badly.” You’re about to respond, asking him to kill you instead, when another screeching car comes into the parking lot. No, not a car, a van. [[◎ Page 114|◎ Page 114-SOLOE.45]] <</if>>\ <<elseif $escape2>>\ <<if $low>>\ “Hello,” you call out in the gruffest voice you can muster. You’re trying to channel Clint Eastwood in //The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.// The knocking stops and you hear an exchange of muffled voices before someone replies, “Hello. There seems to be something wrong with your car, Sir.” “What is it?” “We think you should come out to see it. It’s hard to explain,” the man replies. You sit on the bed and reach over to take the gun out of the nightstand drawer. You lay it on your thigh and put a protective hand over it. “I’m a man, if there’s something I know, it’s cars. You just describe it to me and I’ll know right away,” you posit. There’s a shuffling on the other side of the door. You can see two sets of shadows moving around. “Like my partner said. Sir. It’s hard to describe, it would be easier if you came out. We can drive you to the auto shop,” a new voice says. “Oh it’s alright, I’ll call the towing service,” you reply. “But—” he cuts off and there’s conversation you don’t make out. You feel a smirk creep on your face. You like annoying people. <<else>>\ “Yes?” you ask in the most delicate voice you can. You’re trying to go for Holly Golightly. The knocking stops and you hear an exchange of muffled voices before someone replies, “Hello. There seems to be something wrong with your car, Miss.” “What is it?” “We think you should come out to see it. It’s hard to explain,” the man replies. You sit on the bed and reach over to take the gun out of the nightstand drawer. You lay it on your thigh and put a protective hand over it. “Oh it’s alright, I wouldn’t even know what’s wrong by looking at it. A woman’s brain isn’t made to know cars,” you laugh. There’s a shuffling from the other side of the door. You can see the two sets of shadows slightly move around. “Like my partner said, Miss. It’s hard to describe, it would be easier if you came out. We can drive you to the auto shop,” a new voice says. “Oh it’s alright, I’ll call the towing service,” you reply. “But—” he cuts off and there’s conversation you don’t make out. You feel a smirk creep on your face. You like annoying people. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 114|◎ Page 114-SOLOE.45]] <<elseif $escape3>>\ Burning pain erupts on your palm and you move it off the scalding barrel. You hiss and shake your hand. You would be so embarrassed if someone saw how much you suck at using a gun. “Shit!” one of the men swears. You scoot back along the floor, eyes going from the door to underneath it. “Did you think I was joking?!” you ask. Your hand is shaking so badly now, you’re scared you’ll drop the gun. Suddenly the door rattles from a swift hard kick. You aim and shoot again. It flies through the door and someone screams. You can see the outside from the tiny hole you just made. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ “Fucking bitch!” one of the men screams. You smirk and keep backing up, halfway inside the bathroom now. <<else>>\ “Fucking fucker!” one of the men screams. You smirk and keep backing up, halfway inside the bathroom now. <</if>>\ The uninjured man starts firing at the door. You cover your head with your hands as bullets start ricocheting off the walls and into the floorboards. “HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING SHOOTING INTO ONE OF MY ROOMS?!” Mr. Perry’s voice yells from somewhere, probably the lobby. “This is none of your business, old man! Go back inside!” the one with the gun responds, equally as mad. “It is my business when you’re damaging my property!” he counters. They start arguing, with the owner threatening to call the police and the man with the gun threatening to shoot Mr. Perry. [[◎ Page 114|◎ Page 114-SOLOE.45]] <</if>>\

<<if $escape1>>\ <<if $mafia>>\ You only have a split second to decide, and you choose to risk it. You pull yourself out from under the bed and don’t even take a moment to breathe deeply before scrambling to the door. You run out of the room and right when you almost reach the door of the car, a shot rings out. You stop and breathe in and out through your mouth. Goosebumps form on your arms as you slowly look behind you. Tommy stands there with a gun trained on you. He’s a big man. Larger than you, even if he wasn’t holding a gun, you couldn’t take him mano a mano. “Stop right there, <<print $luce.prefix.toUpperFirst()>>,” he says and takes a step closer. “I need you to come with me.” “Or what? You’ll kill me? Isn’t that what will happen if you take me alive to your boss? Either way I’m pretty fucked, Trevor,” you reply. He looks puzzled as he asks, “Trevor?” You hear a screeching of tires as a car comes barreling into the parking lot. The door pops open and out comes Dante Greco, his gun already on you. He holds a large smile as his men come out of the car too. Their guns in their hands. “LUCE! I’ve been lookin’ for you all day! kind of fucking rude to leave your party like that. Some of my guys are dead and that cute little Fed friend of yours is too,” he says. “No big loss there. But there is a big win… not for you, obviously. Poor little Luce, all alone and without anyone to protect $luce.obj,” he taunts as he walks closer. “Do you ever stop talking?” you ask snippily. “Or are we beginning our torture session early?” Dante cackles. “That’s what I like to see. Some fucking fire.” Marcelo walks onto the scene, his gun already out. Dante looks at you with a smirk, “Looks like you’re surrounded, baby. Come with me nicely and I won’t hurt that lovely face of yours that badly.” You’re about to respond, asking him to kill you instead when another screeching car comes into the parking lot. No, not a car, a van. Everyone looks towards it. The doors slide open and out comes the shock of red hair you know so well. Lazlo jumps out and raises his gun at Dante. Other men belonging to your Pa step out too, and flank around Lazlo, their guns raised as well. <<lazloIncest>>\ You almost feel your heart stop when you see him. Lazlo doesn’t give you any special looks, but you know he must feel the same way about seeing you. <</lazloIncest>>\ Dante chuckles, “Lazzy Cat. I was wondering when your Irish self would show up. It isn’t a party if Luce’s //brother// isn’t here.” You can’t see Dante’s face, but the way he says that word, mockingly, makes Lazlo press his lips together tightly. “Dante, I don’t want a massacre and I don’t think you want to die. You already killed Antonio, his wife, and his daughter. Isn’t that enough for your father?” Lazlo asks. All your bravado. All your snark. Everything disappears as those words leave Lazlo’s mouth. The world tilts on its axis. You feel as if a great chill quickly infects your body. What is warmth now? “Lazzy, you know Pops ain’t satisfied. The only people dying today are you, your men, and Luce if you start shooting,” Dante boasts. “You wanna kill the $luce.siblingTerm you //love// so much?” Lazlo’s eyes flicker to you. They’re intense, unblinking while an expression of unfathomable grief grows on your face. “HEY! NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? NO KILLING ON MY PROPERTY!” Mr. Perry comes out of the lobby to yell. Dante whips his head around and points his gun at Mr. Perry. He shoots the motel owner in the chest. The old man falls back into the lobby. [[◎ Page 115|◎ Page 115-SOLOE.46]] <<elseif $fbi>>\ A van arrives with a happy cannibal pizza munching on one of his kin. The sliding door of //Manolo’s Pizzeria// is thrown open and several men in stiff black vests jump out and immediately point their guns at Dante and his men. The driver leans out of the window with a raised rifle. Dante lets out an incredulous snort. “The pig cavalry? Well, my day has just gotten much better. I do like some nice cooked bacon while I’m torturing. Builds up an appetite y’know?” One of them, the first one to have jumped out, black-haired with gray at the sides, says, “Dante Greco, $name $surname is officially under the Bureau’s protection. We aren’t here to arrest you, but if you interfere with our mission we’ll have to take extreme measures to ensure the safety of our target.” You narrow your eyes. “Not a target by the way, I have a fucking name,” you point out loudly. The man looks at you hard before looking back at Dante. Dante regards you with a dark smile that makes your insides twist. “You hear that, Luce? You got the US of A’s government as your bitch. Do you really want to go with them?” You look from Dante to the man who spoke. //The agent// you realize. Charley had you call the FBI. Charley was a… [[◎ Page 115|◎ Page 115-SOLOE.46]] <</if>>\ <<elseif $escape2>>\ <<if $low>>\ There’s something about people trying to maintain composure while seething and not being able to react. “Sir, could you please tell us if that car here is yours?” the man asks. “You think I’m a thief?!” you raise your voice. “No! It’s an innocent question.” “Doesn’t sound so innocent to me! Who do you think you are?!” you exclaim. “Accusing ME of car theft?!” “Sir, please, it was not our intention to suggest—” <<else>>\ There’s something about people trying to maintain composure while seething and not being able to react. “Miss, could you please tell us if that car here is yours?” the man asks. “You think I’m a thief?!” you raise your voice. “No! It’s an innocent question.” “Doesn’t sound so innocent to me! Who do you think you are accusing me of car theft?!” you exclaim in your best offended voice. “Miss, please, it was not our intention to suggest—” <</if>>\ “And who are you, by the way?!” you interject. You stand up and walk to the door, gun still held tightly in your hand. You bark at the door, “Two strange men are coming to my door, asking me to come out for no good reason and inquiring about my car?! Maybe I should be worried that you two are car thieves!” You hear another furious exchange break out between the two men and you smile, biting your lower lip in an effort to stop any laughter from coming out. You press the barrel of your gun to the door, imagining it pointing at someone’s chest. You won’t shoot. Of course not. [[◎ Page 115|◎ Page 115-SOLOE.46]] <<elseif $escape3>>\ You look around, maybe you can escape through the bathroom window? You’ll have to leave the car. But if you leave, how will your rescuer be able to find you? Shit. You’re going to have to stay put. You have to see what’s going on. You crawl to the window in the room and peek out in between the curtains. One of the henchmen is leaning against a pillar, gripping his stomach, sweat rolling down his face and an expression that looks sick. The other guy has a gun in his hand and is face to face with Mr. Perry in a screaming match. The maid—the one who cleaned your room—stands back, holding a broom like she’s about to wield it. Her eyes suddenly meet yours. Right now, you’re not above pleading, even to the help. You give her your best puppy dog eyes you can. //Help me.// <<if $maid3>>\ She smiles at you and then says loudly for you to hear, “I have a key to that room. We can open it for you as long as you don’t shoot anymore.” You swear and move away from the window. You run to the bathroom just as the door opens, you step into the shower and try to hoist yourself up and over the window but a hand grabs your leg and pulls you down hard enough for your chin to bounce off the windowsill. You look up to see one of the men standing over you, a gun poised to come down on your head. “WAIT!” you yell out, raising a hand to stop the blow. But he kicks you in the ribs hard enough for you to gasp and clutch your side. As that’s happening, you feel a hard hit to your skull and then… nothing. [[◎ Page 70|◎ Page 70-KIDNAP.1]] <<else>>\ She speaks up, “There’s another way to enter the room, Sir. We don’t have spare keys, but you and your friend can come in through the back.” The man with the gun stops bickering and looks at the maid skeptically. She gives him a watery smile. “Please, we don’t have to call the police. You’re just after the guest of room 7, right?” The man with the gun looks from her to the owner. Then he glances at his partner who has slid down the pillar and looks extremely pale. “I’ll go,” he says and jerks his head to the maid who nods and starts heading away from your room. The man follows, and Mr. Perry follows after him, threatening all sorts of legal repercussions. You tuck your gun into your clothes and quickly grab your things. You unlock the door and throw it open. The injured one looks up languidly from his wound. You give him an awkward smile, “Sorry, Cat. Cons of the job, am I right?” You walk past him and he grabs your ankle. Grabbing it hard, he tries to yell out to his partner. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You whack him over the head|◎ Page 115-SOLOE.46][$wack to true]] [[You kick him away|◎ Page 115-SOLOE.46]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\

<<if $escape1>>\ <<if $mafia>>\ Lazlo takes that moment to shoot at Dante. A bullet hits Greco’s arm, the one holding the gun, which clatters to the ground. That’s when the shooting begins. Lazlo’s men go behind the van as they shoot at Dante’s men who hide behind the cars. Tommy tries to take your arm but you… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Elbow him|◎ Page 116-SOLOE.47][$m1 to true]] [[Kick his crotch|◎ Page 116-SOLOE.47][$m2 to true]] [[Slam your fist in his face|◎ Page 116-SOLOE.47][$m3 to true]] <<elseif $fbi>>\ “You think you can trust The Man? You think they won’t lock you up somewhere, torture the shit out of you or use you as bait to catch my Pops? They’re no better than we are. At least with us, you know what you’re gettin’,” Dante insists. The agent says to you, “As opposed to the family who just killed yours, Luce?” Your blood freezes in your veins. Your eyes widen and your mouth barely moves as you ask, “What did you say?” The agent answers, “Antonio $surname, his wife and his young daughter are deceased. They were killed earlier today.” You feel lightheaded. Dante rolls his eyes, “Ah fuck this!” He shoots at the agent who spoke to you. The agent and his backup shoot back. That starts an honest-to-God shootout between the Feds and the mob. Each side hides behind cars as they quickly peek out to shoot. Bullets fly everywhere. Some hit through car mirrors, others go through windows. Some hit people like the guy—Tobias?—who had pulled a gun on you first. “LUCE!” the agent who spoke yells at you from behind the van. He waves you over. You look from him to Dante, who’s climbing onto the hood of the car and shooting from there. “LUCE WE DON’T HAVE MUCH TIME!” the agent yells. [[◎ Page 116|◎ Page 116-SOLOE.47]] <</if>>\ <<elseif $escape2>>\ <<if $low>>\ “Sorry Sir, we were just curious because we like the model. We were wondering where you got it, if that isn’t too much to ask?” “I thought y’all knew something about cars? This is just another ploy to steal my hard-earned money!” “Sir!” You stomp on the carpet as you walk to the telephone. “And I want you two to give me the license plate of the car you’re driving,” you order. “Sir, there’s really no need to get the cops involved. If our questions offended you we’re sorry but please don’t call anyone. We’ll leave,” the man promises, his voice tight with nerves. “YEAH YOU BETTER AND I DON’T WANNA SEE YOU SNOOPING AROUND HERE AGAIN!” you threaten. The accent is turning into a caricature at this point. “Have a nice day, Sir,” the man says. You hear their footsteps but you crouch down and go to the window, peeking over the windowsill to watch the men walk off to their car. One of them looks back at your room and ducks down. <<else>>\ “Sorry Miss, we were just curious because we like the model. We were wondering where you got it, if that isn’t too much to ask?” “I thought y’all knew something about cars? This is just another ploy to steal my hard-earned husband’s money. You know what I’m going to do? I’m calling the police!” “Miss!” You stomp on the carpet as you walk to the telephone. “And I want you two to give me the license plate of the car you’re driving,” you order. “Miss, there’s really no need to get the cops involved. If our questions offended you we’re sorry but please don’t call anyone. We’ll leave,” the man promises, his voice tight with nerves. “YEAH YOU BETTER AND I DON’T WANNA SEE YOU SNOOPING AROUND HERE AGAIN!” you threaten. The accent is turning into a caricature at this point. “Have a nice day, Miss,” the man says. You hear their footsteps but you crouch down and go to the window, peeking over the windowsill to watch the men walk off to their car. One of them looks back at your room and ducks down. <</if>>\ You hear the engine start and then the tires roll over the gravel. You look back up to see the taillights of the car leaving and turning onto the road. You stand up and throw the gun behind you. You raise the middle fingers of both your hands. “DUMBASSES!” You grin and flop down on the bed. Your ass was clenching during that whole performance. You were really banking on the fact that they were really all brawn and no brain; you’re just so damn smart, you should’ve become, like, a scientist or something. Your dramatic scene must’ve have taken a lot out of you because the next thing you know you, jump up with a light headache and a dry mouth. [[◎ Page 116|◎ Page 116-SOLOE.47]] <<elseif $escape3>>\ <<if $wack>>\ You hit him with the handle of the gun hard on top of his head and he groans, letting go of your hand and cradling his head. <<else>>\ You lightly kick at his arm and without much resistance he lets go. <</if>>\ <<if $mafia>>\ You walk to the driver’s side of the car and are about to get in when you hear tires behind you. A black van screeches to a halt in front of you, nearly hitting Charley’s car. You fumble for the gun as the door slides open and Lazlo jumps out. He looks at you, and then at the passed out or dead bodyguard—you can’t think of that right now. “Luce—” he begins to say. You look behind him and yell, “LAZLO!” He looks behind him and there comes Dante, leaning out of the window of his car and shooting. Bullets spray into car windows, cutting tiny marks into your skin. Lazlo grabs your hand and pulls you to him, covering you with his body. He takes out his gun and starts shooting back. You hear Dante laugh gleefully amidst the bullets. Gunshots behind you make you turn in time to see the other bodyguard from before rushing towards you with the maid in tow. “Lazlo, we need to go!” you yell into his ear. He nods and pushes you forward, shoving you so you fall into the back of the van. The other bodyguard looks at his fallen friend and crouches down to attend to him. “Lazzy-boy! You really wanna do it the hard way!” Dante screams enthusiastically. Lazlo keeps shooting until Dante’s men start backing-up their boss; he climbs in behind you and slams the door shut. “GO!” he orders. [[◎ Page 116|◎ Page 116-SOLOE.47]] <<elseif $fbi>>\ You walk to the driver side of the car and are about to get in when you hear tires behind you. A van with a cannibalistic pizza on the side, screeches to a halt in front of you, nearly hitting Charley’s car. You fumble for the gun as the door slides open and a man jumps out. “What…” The man wastes no time in grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the van. “Who the fuck are you?!” you yell, trying to pull away from his iron-grip. “I’m the guy you called to save you!” he responds. “But—” “We have no time!” he snaps and throws you into the back of the van where you land on your ass among a bunch of people who are dressed like the man. With all black clothes, gun holsters on their hips and thick vests, they look like cops. A group of cops… Your mind starts reeling. Who was Charley? You ask the nearest person to you, a big man with trunks for forearms. “Who are you guys?” He looks at you with an annoyed expression. “You called us and you don’t know who we are?” “Pritch, I didn’t bring you here to talk,” the man who dragged you in here says. “Yes, Luther,” the man replies and focuses on his shoes. “Who are //you//?” you ask the man named Luther. “We’re agents of the Bureau,” he replies from the front seat. [[◎ Page 116|◎ Page 116-SOLOE.47]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\

<<if $escape1>>\ <<if $mafia>>\ <<if $m1>>\ You punch his gut and he doubles over. <<elseif $m2>>\ You kick back and get him right in the crown jewels. He gasps and falls to his knees. <<elseif $m3>>\ There’s a hard crunch and he screams as blood starts running down from his broken nose. <</if>>\ Lazlo is crouched behind the car, shooting at Dante who’s in the same position across from him. Dante is shooting with his other arm, which makes his aim shitty; he mostly hits the van. Lazlo makes eye contact with you and mouths: //Luce, run.// <<if $cisf or $transf $nbf>>\ You know it’s almost suicide to run into a shootout but if you stay you’ll die too. At least this way, you could die like someone who has balls. <<else>>\ You know it’s almost suicide to run into a shootout but if you stay you’ll die too. At least this way, you could die like a man. <</if>>\ <<lazloIncest>>\ And above all, you trust him. <</lazloIncest>>\ You run between the cars, a spraying of bullets whizzing past your ears, arms, and sides. A bullet grazes your leg and you fall onto your stomach. Lazlo comes out from behind the van and grabs your arm, pulling you up as he continues shooting. He shoves you into the back of the van and climbs in after you, “LET’S GO!” His men all shoot for cover as they climb into the van and barely close the door before the driver starts speeding off. You look out of the back window to see Dante standing up and continuing to shoot at the van with his arm. That’ll make him a lousy shot. You’re pulled away from the window and you start thrashing around. Not wanting to be touched by anyone. Murderers. Violent criminals, all of them. People like this killed Ma, Pa and Bee. “Luce! It’s ok! It’s me,” Lazlo says in a worried tone. You try hitting him and he grabs your hands and throws them off. He takes your face into his hands and forces you to look at him. Tears are already running down your cheeks as Lazlo’s eyes wander your face. His eyebrows are pulled together, his blue eyes are wide and his mouth is ajar. He looks so sad. “I’m sorry I had to say it like that. I’m so sorry,” he whispers. You feel your face crumble. “Mom and Dad are dead?” You hope he says the opposite. That you misheard. That he’s being a dick and is playing a stupid joke to which you’ll tell him that April Fool’s is months away. He looks down and shakes his head. You push him away and press yourself against the corner, covering your face as you sob into your hands. <<lazloIncest>>Yet he doesn’t leave your side. Arm brushing yours.<</lazloIncest>> <h2>END OF DEMO</h2> <<elseif $fbi>>\ You don’t trust the Feds, your Pa’s lifetime of words against them are ingrained in you but the Grecos killed hi— Your feet move before your mind catches up. You never thought you would be running into an active shooting range. You’re surprised you don’t piss yourself as you hear the sounds of bullets behind and in front of you. The agent points to the van’s open door, which you throw yourself into. He shoots at Dante and his men until his gun runs out of bullets and then he barks, “EVERYONE, LET’S GO!” He comes in right behind you and so do the other agents. The driver with the rifle drops it back in his seat and luckily he hadn’t turned the van off. He presses down on the gas pedal so hard you go flying back and hit the door. You hear the sound of bullets behind you and cover your head. The agent who spoke glances at you over his shoulder and then starts speaking to the driver. The rest of the agents sit down in silence, checking their guns and themselves. They all stay away from you. None of them even look at you. Which is good, you don’t think they have the right to see you cry. Even so, you cover your face. <h2>END OF DEMO</h2> <</if>>\ <<elseif $escape2>>\ Groggily, you ask, “Who the fuck is it now?” You immediately search for the gun. What if it’s those guys again? And you just revealed your real voice? IDIOT. You look on the floor and spot it. Grabbing it, you stand up and go to the door. Pointing directly where you think someone’s head would be. Your hand shakes badly and you hope if it comes down to it—if you have to shoot in a way you didn’t before…couldn’t before… that you won’t miss. “Whoever it is, know that I have a gun and I swear on the most important thing to me—MYSELF—that I’ll blow your fucking head off,” you say in a shaky voice. <<if $mafia>>\ “Luce, it’s me,” Lazlo’s familiar voice says through the door. <<lazloIncest>>\ You feel relief flood through your system; something you never thought Lazlo would make you feel. Something only he can make you feel. <</lazloIncest>>\ “Lazlo? Is that really you?” you ask, in a voice that sounds nothing like yours. Your gun is still raised and you haven’t taken a step towards the door. “Yes. I came for you,” he replies and before he can say more you lower the gun and unlock the door, throwing it open. Lazlo stands there, the sun on his very red hair. When he sees you his face lights up. “Luce,” he whispers. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Hug him|◎ Page 117-SOLOE.48][$lazh1 to true]] [[You smile|◎ Page 117-SOLOE.48][$lazh2 to true]] [[Get back to business|◎ Page 117-SOLOE.48][$lazh3 to true]] <<elseif $fbi>>\ “Pizza delivery for Luce $surname,” a male voice says from behind the door. “I don’t eat carbs,” you respond cheekily. “It has vegetables on it,” the man replies. You lower the gun and unlock the door. The man that stands there when you open the door is someone who looks old—older than you at least. He wears all black, a bulky vest barely conceals the gun he has clipped on his belt. He has dark hair gelled back and the gray at his temples stands out more for it. You look down at his hands, “Is the joke here that you’re going to pull out your dick?” The man immediately grabs your hand and takes the gun out, opening the chamber and letting the bullets drop onto the carpet. You cross your arms, “Rude.” He tucks the gun in the waist of his pants and grabs your arm, pulling you out the door. “HEY! I STILL HAVE MY SHIT IN THE ROOM!” you pry his hand off. The man looks at you like you’ve just flicked his ear. He looks back at the pizza van behind him. You can see people in there, all strangers, dressed like him. “Go get your things quickly, we have to be in the US by tomorrow morning,” he orders. “Who are you people?” you ask. “That doesn’t concern you right now,” he responds coldly. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You refuse to budge|◎ Page 117-SOLOE.48][$lu to true]] [[You obey|◎ Page 117-SOLOE.48]] <</if>>\ <<elseif $escape3>>\ <<if $mafia>>\ The driver pulls out of the parking lot with Dante chasing after you. You cover your head and press your knees tightly to your chest as the van shakes from the force of the shots and the jerks the van makes as the driver swerves to the sounds of honks. Lazlo keeps looking back, a hard expression on his face. “Luce, stay down no matter what.” You open your eyes and finally notice there’s more people in the van with you. There are guards with loaded guns in their hands. You ignore that advice, obviously. “Where is Pa?!” Lazlo doesn’t answer. He just remains focused on the road behind you. You raise yourself up on your knees and grab his jacket. “Lazlo!” “Luce, it’s not the time. Just know that something terrible has happened and right now we’re improvising,” he replies distractedly. You feel your stomach curl. “What happened?” A bullet flies through the car and breaks through the front windshield, creating a large crack. He pushes your head down. “STAY DOWN!” He rolls down the window of the passenger door and starts shooting. [[◎ Page 117|◎ Page 117-SOLOE.48]] <<elseif $fbi>>\ Your eyebrows rise. “The Bureau? You mean the FBI?” “No, I mean the Bureau of pizza making. Obviously the FBI,” he snaps. You scowl, “Don’t be a dick about it. I have the right to know shit like how Charley had your number.” He doesn’t reply so you ask, “Do you know anything about my parents? If they’re ok?” “Your parents and your sister are dead, kid. The sooner you accept that and move on, the better,” he responds. You feel the air get sucked out of your lungs. “What?” you think you ask. “Thank Silvio Greco for that,” he says. He starts saying other things but your mind gets too loud with the memories of your family that you can’t seem to hear anything. You lay your head against the wall of the car and just… Think. <h2>END OF DEMO</h2> <</if>>\ <</if>>\

<<if $escape2>>\ <<if $mafia>>\ <<if $lazh1>>\ You have never done this before and maybe it’s all the hours of fear, the death and the fact that you’ve been slumming it in a dingy hotel but you grab him by his lapels, pull him close and throw your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder. Lazlo stiffens. His arms stay at his side while you continue to hug him. You look over his shoulder to see a bodyguard standing in the doorway, his eyes on the floor as he gives you your privacy. <<lazloIncest>>\ Lazlo soon relaxes and hugs you back, pressing his face into your hair. <</lazloIncest>>\ You pull back and grin at Lazlo. His skin is paler than usual and the look on his face is nothing short of uncomfortable. “Boy, am I glad to see you,” you say. <<if $lazloIncest>>\ “Luce, are you ok?” he asks quietly. You scoff. “No. Anyway who else is here with you? Pa?” <<else>>\ “Luce, did you hit your head?” he asks quietly. You snort. “Maybe. Anyway, who else is here with you? Pa?” <</if>>\ You look past him into the parking lot. There’s a black van there with two men in the front seats dressed like your Pa’s goons. <<elseif $lazh2>>\ You smile at him. The first smile you think you’ve given him in years. Maybe since you met him. The distance between you two seems to evaporate in spite of the years. You’ve probably lost your mind a bit in the last day. <<lazloIncest>>\ It’s the first smile like this you have given to anyone since you last saw him. You only ever saw him at Christmas and some birthdays; all this time and yet it feels like just yesterday. <</lazloIncest>>\ Lazlo returns your smile, albeit more cautiously like he isn’t used to it. “Hello,” he says. “Hello,” you reply. You look over his shoulder to see a bodyguard standing in the doorway, his eyes on the floor as he gives you your privacy. You look back at him and he’s staring at you. You don’t know what else to say to that, so you focus on what matters to you most. “Anyway, who else is here with you? Pa?” You look past him into the parking lot. There’s a black van there with two men in the front seats dressed like your Pa’s goons. <<elseif $lazh3>>\ “Luce—” “Who’s here? Did Pa come with you?” you ask excitedly and look out into the parking lot. There’s a black van there with two of your Pa’s men in the front seats. You notice there’s also a guy like that behind Lazlo. <</if>>\ “No, your father isn’t with me,” Lazlo responds in a strange voice. You scratch at your cheek, “Is he at the safe house? Ma and Bianca must be there too then.” Lazlo opens his mouth and closes it again, looking behind him at the nearest henchman. “Jesus what is it? The guy I talked to earlier didn’t want to say anything about Pa either,” you say and put your hands on your hips looking from Lazlo to the bodyguard. “What is it that no one is telling me?” Lazlo looks back to you and his eyebrows scrunch together like he’s struggling to begin. “Just tell me!” you exclaim, exasperated. “Luce,” Lazlo says softly and grabs your shoulders, his fingers holding you strongly, not like he thinks you’ll run but that he thinks you’ll collapse. You feel your eyes prickle and your throat close. Suddenly you don’t want to know, suddenly knowing means something so unfathomably horrible that you slap his hands away and cover your ears. “NO!” you yell. “Don’t say anything! I don’t care! I don’t wanna hear it!” Lazlo looks at you sadly and then looks down at his hands. In spite of your protests, he talks and he says the words you’ve been dreading. “Your family is dead.” <h2>END OF DEMO</h2> <<elseif $fbi>>\ <<if $lu>>\ “I called you. I seem to be important enough for you to bring the whole squad here and so I’m not moving until you tell me who you are and if you know where my family is,” you state. The man’s eyes narrow sharply at you. He wants to intimidate you. Please, his angry face is nothing compared to Pa’s. You raise an eyebrow and wait. The man looks at his watch and his mouth twitches. “My name is Agent Luther and I work for the Federal Bureau.” Your eyebrows shoot up and you think your eyes might’ve bugged out of their sockets. “The FBI? I called The Man?” “Yes,” he says impatiently. You blink. “Well.” “Can you get your things now?” “Where’s my family?” “Dead. At the hands of Silvio Greco,” he replies curtly, as if he was responding to a dumb and obvious question he had already answered. But to you that one word, //dead//, feels like it punches you so hard you lose air to breathe. “We don’t have time for this,” he says and grabs your arm, dragging you to the car without protest from you. Your knees feel weak and you’re about to collapse when he shoves you inside the back of the van and the door slides shut. From that moment on, you don’t remember anything else for hours. <<else>>\ You nod and quickly go back inside for your wallet and Charley’s pouch, shoving the money and Polaroid back in there. You jog back to the van and climb in the back. It slides shut and you sit against the wall, surrounded by other members of that man’s… squad. Or whatever. You don’t care. The man looks at you from the front and you’re suddenly reminded of something. “Do you know where my family is?” He holds your gaze as he says, “Dead. Silvio Greco murdered them.” He looks away as if what he said was nothing to him. Meanwhile, a loud windy sound begins blowing in your ears. It deafens everything else around you. Your eyes look beyond this van with these strangers; far beyond. <<audio "confrontation" fadeout>> <h2>END OF DEMO</h2> <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <<elseif $escape3>>\ He rolls down the window of the passenger door and starts shooting. The other guys in the back with you slide open the doors and follow suit. Wind slaps your hair against your face and you have to cover your ears from the sound of shots. You’d think you would be hyper-focused on the current battle going on around you. But Lazlo’s words bounce around your head. Terrible. It’s never been a word you liked. It’s now a word you think you loathe more than all others on Earth. <<audio "confrontation" fadeout>> It means death. It means loss. It means loneliness. It means you’re the last $surname in the world. <h2>END OF DEMO</h2> <</if>>\

__<h1>Chapter Two: What Has Happened to the World You Knew?</h1>__\ <<audio "moonlight" loop play>>\ The hum of the car is the first thing you hear and feel before your eyes open. At first, you feel normal. The events that happened earlier in the New Year not yet coming forth and ruining your fucking life. You’re slumped down in the passenger seat, the seat belt digging into your stomach. You unbuckle yourself and sit up. <<if $respondd>>\ The road ahead of you is illuminated poorly. Shops closed for the night show signs of age and vandalism. There’s garbage on the ground and a broken bicycle lies in the middle of the road where Charley has to jerk the car slightly to the side to miss it. <<else>>\ The road ahead of you is illuminated poorly. Shops closed for the night show signs of age and vandalism. There’s garbage on the ground and a broken bicycle lies in the middle of the road where Charley has to jerk the car slightly to the side to miss it. It makes you suddenly cry out in pain, as the bullet in your leg reminds you of its presence. “Shit!” you curse. “Shit! Shit!” Blood coats your entire thigh, your clothes and the seat you’re on. While you were passed out, Charley secured the thing with a makeshift tourniquet. At your outburst, Charley doesn’t say anything but does glance at your wound occasionally. <</if>>\ There are a few stragglers on the streets. They are either walking around with their hands in their pockets and looking down, or passed out on the sidewalks, shirtless. Your head spins and you put your hand on your forehead. “Where are we?” you ask, your voice squeaky in a way that offends you. “On the outskirts of the city,” your bodyguard replies. You inhale and open the glove-box. You take the water bottle you knew would be there and take off the cap, chugging half of it before stopping and wiping your chin. The memories you don’t want to think about start creeping in. “And where are we going?” you ask. Charley has both hands on the wheel. Her fingernails are short and plain, a common thing with her. Her singular piece of jewelry—a watch—glints as the streetlights bounce off of its glass face. “To a hotel. Preferably one that doesn’t stand out,” she says. [[◎ Page 71|◎ Page 71-ESCAPED.2]]

You make a face, “A shitty hotel? Why the hell would I take a step in a disgusting place like that?” Charley glances at you briefly, answering, “We can’t go back to your apartment, they’re likely already there, nor to any of your usual hangouts. We have to find the most unassuming place to hide in until morning.” You groan. “Charley I have no fucking clothes, or jewelry or even deodorant. Can’t we go somewhere nicer? It’s not like they can check every hotel in the city, right?” She doesn’t reply. “You know those places have rats, right?” She still doesn’t answer. You grow impatient and kick the glove box closed. “There's probably Gonorrhea on the beds.” “$honorific,” she says calmly, “You have no money on your person and the money I have isn’t enough to pay for a more appealing place. Being who you are, they would never think you would set foot in a place like that and that’s what we’re counting on.” You grumble in response and look away. She’s right. But you’d rather lay on the Gonorrhea-infected bed than admit that. You have so much to ask. But you also don’t want to think about it. You’ll wait until she does. [[◎ Page 71|◎ Page 72-ESCAPED.3]]

Charley finds a three-star (you’d give it a 2 on sight alone) hotel in an equally low-rate part of the city. Its bright green sign held up high by a pillar reads: //The Cherry Inn.// “Shouldn’t the sign be red then?” you muse. There’s a neon sign of a big green cherry that gives off rotten fruit. There’s a dot on the ‘I’ that looks suspiciously like a fly. The car comes into the parking lot and Charley parks by a green door. Identical to all the other doors next to it. “I’ll go inside to book the room, please stay here.” You don’t protest. You would rather spend as much time outside of the hotel than in. Even if you have to spend time in Charley’s car. She should’ve bought a better one. It’s actually embarrassing for someone who guards you with their life to drive around in… can you even call it a car? //The Flintstones// had better cars and those were made of wood and stone with no engines, but moved with dirty feet. You sigh, you wish you could be watching that right now. In the comfort of your own apartment. The clean couch underneath your ass, the fuzzy carpet at your feet and a cup of something delicious in your hand. Marcey beside you, sticking her hand into the chips bags as she talks over the characters— You push that memory away. You look around the car to kill time. You can see through the small window at the entrance that Charley is in discussion with the front desk receptionist, who’s a balding man with hair coming out of his ears. Charley’s car is much like her. Sterile, ordered without a hint of personal touches. It looks brand new, you swear you can smell that new car smell. You look in the glove box again and rummage around the neatly stacked papers. You flip through them, disappointed when you see they’re just miscellaneous things like receipts and manuals for appliances. [[◎ Page 71|◎ Page 73-ESCAPED.4]]

You lift the arm rest and sigh when you see it’s empty too. Charley has always been a mystery to you. You know nothing about her life apart from the fact that she’s Indian, a woman and simplistic to an alarming, in your opinion, degree. She’s also a badass. <<if $lazloIncest>>\ She wasn’t a conversationalist. Always listening, observing and never contributing. Unlike Lazlo—which was a major character flaw you tried to dispel—her silence felt different. Not like she was unsure of what to say but more so, she knew the right thing to say and the right amount to speak. <<else>>\ She wasn’t a conversationalist. Always listening, observing and never contributing. Unlike Lazlo—which was a major character flaw—her silence felt different. Not like she was unsure of what to say, but more so she knew the right thing to say and the right amount to speak. <</if>>\ You had tried digging into her life many times and always came out with nothing but basic facts. <center>Charley Das Born 1947 in Washington, DC. Studied at Oxford.</center> That’s it. Her entire life, as far as legal records are concerned, is less than 10 words. She’s definitely hiding something. And… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You’re gonna figure out what|◎ Page 74-ESCAPED.5][$fc to true]] [[You don’t care|◎ Page 74-ESCAPED.5]]

<<audio "moonlight" fadeout>>\ <<if $fc>>\ It’s not like you care about her. You just don’t like that the woman who’s with you everyday and knows more about you than anyone—is a complete mystery. Everyone has something to hide. <<else>>\ So what? You pay her to do her job. Not to hear a sob story about what it’s like to be brown in a mostly white country. You would hate it if you had to console the woman who’s supposed to protect you. <</if>>\ <<if $respondd>>\ The aforementioned comes out of the lobby and you sneer before getting out of the car. Crossing your arms, you wait until Charley opens the door in front of you and heads in, flicking on the light. She looks around at first, opens the dresser, the bathroom door and even checks under the bed. She gives you the all clear to come in. <<else>>\ The aforementioned comes out of the lobby and she opens the door for you, throwing your arm around her shoulders and her arm around your waist. You have to lean on her heavily as she helps you walk to the door. “Wait here, $honorific,” she says and makes you lean on the wall adjacent to the door. She heads in first to check it out. She opens the dresser, the bathroom door and even checks under the bed. She gives you the all clear, guides you inside and gently sits you down on the bed. <</if>>\ Turns out, not only is the door piss-colored but so is the light bulb on the ceiling. Yippie. It bathes the room in a painful aching yellow light. You feel a headache coming on so you say, a bit forcefully, “Charley, turn the fucking lamp on, do you wanna blind me?” Charley does as she’s told and turns off the overhead light before clicking on the lamp. You kick the door shut behind you. You look around the room, your nose wrinkling at the smell of mothballs and pee. That’s when you notice there’s only one bed. You ask, “Say, Charley baby, where are you going to sleep?” She nods to the ground, “There’s some spare blankets in the dresser.” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You feel a pang of disappointment [Gentle]|◎ Page 75-ESCAPED.6][$fcc to true]] [[“You should sleep on the bed.” [Grudging]|◎ Page 75-ESCAPED.6][$fcc2 to true]] [[“Kind of sucks for you.”|◎ Page 75-ESCAPED.6][$fcc3 to true]] [[You shrug|◎ Page 75-ESCAPED.6]]

<<if $fcc>>\ And then you grimace. Where did that come from? Well, you’re not a fucking monster. Charley’s been good to you and sometimes you realize you haven’t been that good to her. But then you forget. <<elseif $fcc2>>\ “It’s our usual arrangement," she replies. “Yeah I fucking guess. But it’s kind of a shitty deal on your end.” “I can handle it, $honorific.” You feel like you want to continue arguing, but you clamp your mouth shut. It looks desperate. <<elseif $fcc3>>\ “I’ve slept in worse conditions,” she responds. You quirk an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to make it better?” “No, it’s supposed to explain why this is like sleeping on a bed for me,” she says. You give her a confused look but drop it. <<else>>\ You would’ve kicked her off the bed anyway for even trying to share it. <</if>>\ <<if $respondd>>\ You wipe off the spot on the bed where you’re going to put your ass, before sitting. <<else>>\ You lean back, your arms slightly behind you to keep you propped up. <</if>>\ Charley pulls out the chair from under the mini-desk by the dresser—which has a small TV—and drags it closer to the bed, where she sits down across from you. Her eyes roam around your body, focusing on particular points: your face, your arms, your legs. You look away. Charley doesn’t look at you the way other people do. When someone checks you out, there’s some unconstrained lust in their eyes, when she does it it’s emotionless. Like you’re a slab of meat. You quip, “I’m lookin’ like hot shit, aren’t I?” She looks up from the point she was examining and responds, “We need to patch up the bullet wound before it gets infected.” <<if $respondd>>\ <<if $clothesg>>\ You look at your thigh. The slit in your dress makes it easier to see how soaked the fabric is. <<else>>\ You look at your thigh; your pants are crusted from the dried blood. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ <<if $clothesp or $clothesb>>\ You look at your arm, you had completely forgotten about that. You feel lucky your sleeve is covering up the worst part of it. <<else>>\ You look at your arm, you had completely forgotten about that. Your lack of sleeves allows you to see how gnarly it is. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ “It doesn’t hurt that bad,” you comment. “Adrenaline,” she replies. You’re about to ask what that means when she clarifies, “When you’re in a situation where your life is in danger, your body goes on survival mode—unless you’re the type to freeze—and when that happens, your body needs to keep you alive, to keep you moving, so it takes away the pain until you’re safe.” You look at your wound, “Well I don’t—” A sharp throb pierces through your thoughts and what you were about to say. “FUCKING HELL!” Charley watches you grit your teeth, her face neutral. You hang your head down and breathe harshly. “We should get that done now, $honorific, so you can rest,” she claims and gets up. While you’re trying to keep it in—that increasing pain you’re feeling—she goes out to the car and comes back, a white bag in her hands. <<if $respondd>>\ “May I sit?” she asks, gesturing to the spot next to you. <<else>>\ “May I kneel?” she asks, gesturing to the spot in front of you. <</if>>\ “You’re gonna do it yourself?” you manage to get out. “Yes. Unless you would like to do it yourself?” she asks. <<if $studies is "medicine">>\ <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Do it yourself|◎ Page 76-ESCAPED.7-M][$mending to true]] [[Let her do it|◎ Page 76-ESCAPED.7-M]] <<else>>\ <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Do it yourself|◎ Page 76-ESCAPED.7][$mending to true]] [[Let her do it|◎ Page 76-ESCAPED.7]] <</if>>\

<<audio "montage" loop play>>\ <<if $respondd>>\ <<if $mending>>\ You nod. Best to know shit like this now. You might need it later. <<if $clothesp or $clothesb>>\ She sits down. She grabs onto the fabric of your sleeve and rips it open. You actually take a good look at it. You’ve never seen what one of these looked like before. <<else>>\ She sits down. “At least your clothes aren’t ruined, $honorific,” she says. “Right?” you say in agreement. You actually take a good look at it. You’ve never seen what one of these looked like before. <</if>>\ The skin around the hole is jagged like someone took a pair of scissors and cut along your flesh as if they were cutting paper. The edges are pushed inward and you see the glint of the bullet. “Is it still in there?” you ask in a breathy voice. She makes a noise that sounds like confirmation. Her fingers are on your arm, close to the hole. You can barely feel her touch. “So, what happens now?” She bites a small corner of her bottom lip. “You should take it out.” Your eyebrows rise. “And why should I do that?” “It’s close enough to the surface. If it were any deeper, I’d ask you not to risk it,” she responds and unzips her bag. Inside there’s cotton balls, small bottles, band-aids, bandages, scissors, pills and tweezers. You suck in your upper lip, the pain is getting worse. It’s like someone is sticking a cigarette into your skin. “Ok, tell me how to do this shit,” you demand. “First, you should wash your hands,” she answers. You get up, waving off her support and trudge to the bathroom. The wound looks even worse here, under the harsh light. You feel nauseated and quickly finish washing your hands. You use a small towel to dry them and throw it on the floor. You come back to the bed and sit down. “Now what?” She hands you tweezers. “I disinfected these so they’re good to go and now you need to clean the wound.” [[◎ Page 77|◎ Page 77-ESCAPED.8]] <<else>>\ You shake your head. <<if $clothesp or $clothesb>>\ She sits down. She grabs onto the fabric of your sleeve and rips it open. You actually take a good look at it. You’ve never seen what one of these looked like before. <<else>>\ She sits down. “At least your clothes aren’t ruined, $honorific,” she says. “Right?” you say in agreement. You actually take a good look at it. You’ve never seen what one of these looked like before. <</if>>\ The skin around the hole is jagged like someone took a pair of scissors and cut along your flesh as if they were cutting paper. The edges are pushed inward and you see the glint of the bullet. “Is it still in there?” you ask in a breathy voice. She makes a noise that sounds like confirmation. Her fingers are on your arm, close to the hole. You can barely feel her touch. “So, what happens now?” She bites a small corner of her bottom lip. “I want to take it out.” Your eyebrows rise. “Huh?” “It’s close enough to the surface. If it were any deeper I wouldn’t risk it,” she responds and unzips her bag. Inside there’s cotton balls, small bottles, band-aids, bandages, scissors, pills and tweezers. You suck in your upper lip, the pain is getting worse. It’s like someone is sticking a cigarette into your skin. “Give me a second,” she says and goes to the bathroom. You hear the tap running before she comes back, drying her hands with a small towel. She sits back down and looks into the bag. She pulls out the tweezers and a bottle. “I’m going to disinfect these.” She takes a cotton ball and doses it with the bottle that you notice is marked rubbing alcohol. Then she runs it along the tweezers. “Now, I’m going to clean the wound itself,” she informs. [[◎ Page 77|◎ Page 77-ESCAPED.8]] <</if>>\ <<else>>\ <<if $mending>>\ “I can do it,” you say a bit rudely. She sits down next to you. <<else>>\ “I’m tired,” you respond. She kneels in front of you. <</if>>\ She starts untying the blood-stained fabric and you wince as the pressure lessens. Seeing the actual wound almost makes you bolt to the toilet. To say it’s disgusting is an understatement. It’s appalling. Revolting. Vile and the sharp smell of blood does wonders for your nausea. If the light of the room was harsher, you would not be able to look. You’re not squeamish about things that happen to others. You can watch action and horror movies just fine. But apart from how nasty this looks, there’s also the fact that it’ll leave a gross scar. The edges of the wound are torn inward and likely the exit wound on the underside of your thigh has its edges blown outward. “Fuck me,” you groan. Charley opens her white bag to reveal a medicinal kit of sorts. She has tweezers, bottles with clear liquids, bottles with pills, cotton balls, scissors, band-aids and bandages in there. She glances at you briefly. “You’ve had to plug up many bullet wounds, huh, Charley?” you ask. “Quite a few,” she responds. [[◎ Page 76|◎ Page 77-ESCAPED.8]] <</if>>\

<<if $mending>>\ <<if $respondd>>\ You nod. 4 years of medicine weren’t for nothing. <<if $clothesp or $clothesb>>\ She sits down. You grab onto the fabric of your sleeve and rip it open; wincing at your ruined shirt. You actually take a good look at the wound. You’ve never seen what one of these looked like before. <<else>>\ She sits down. “At least your clothes aren’t ruined, $honorific,” she says. “Right?” you say in agreement. You actually take a good look at it. You’ve never seen what one of these looked like before. <</if>>\ The skin around the hole is jagged like someone took a pair of scissors and cut along your flesh as if they were cutting paper. The edges are pushed inward and you see the glint of the bullet. “It’s still in there,” you note in an annoyed voice. She makes a noise that sounds like confirmation. Her fingers are on your arm, close to the hole. You can barely feel her touch. “I guess it’s close enough to the surface to take that fucker out,” you claim. “I completely agree.” She unzips her bag. Inside there’s cotton balls, small bottles, band-aids, bandages, scissors, pills and tweezers. You suck in your upper lip, the pain is getting worse. It’s like someone is sticking a cigarette into your skin. “Ok, I’ll do this in the bathroom; better visibility and I need to wash my hands ,” you say. “Good thinking,” she answers and gets up to follow. You get up, and trudge to the bathroom. The wound looks even worse here, under the harsh light. You feel nauseated and quickly finish washing your hands. You use a small towel to dry them and throw it on the floor. You hold up your arm over the sink. “Can you pass me the tweezers?” She hands them to you. You douse a cotton ball in rubbing alcohol and run it along the tweezers. “Ok, guess it’s time,” you say with reluctance. [[◎ Page 77|◎ Page 77-ESCAPED.8-M]] <<else>>\ The years studying to be a doctor left you with the knowledge of how to do this. In theory. But you’re too tired and Charley has steadier hands. You shake your head. <<if $clothesp or $clothesb>>\ She sits down. She grabs onto the fabric of your sleeve and rips it open. You actually take a good look at the wound. You’ve never seen what one of these looked like before. <<else>>\ She sits down. “At least your clothes aren’t ruined, $honorific,” she says. “Right?” you say in agreement. You actually take a good look at it. You’ve never seen what one of these looked like before. <</if>>\ The skin around the hole is jagged like someone took a pair of scissors and cut along your flesh as if they were cutting paper. The edges are pushed inward and you see the glint of the bullet. “It’s still in there, right?” you ask in a breathy voice. She makes a noise that sounds like confirmation. Her fingers are on your arm, close to the hole. You can barely feel her touch. She bites a small corner of her bottom lip. “I want to take it out.” Your eyebrows rise. “Figured. I can see it.” “Yes, it’s close enough to the surface. You know, if it was any deeper I wouldn’t risk it,” she responds and unzips her bag. Inside there’s cotton balls, small bottles, band-aids, bandages, scissors, pills and tweezers. You suck in your upper lip, the pain is getting worse. It’s like someone is sticking a cigarette into your skin. “Give me a second,” she says and goes to the bathroom. You hear the tap running before she comes back, drying her hands with a small towel. She sits back down and looks into the bag. She pulls out the tweezers and a bottle. She takes a cotton ball and doses it with the bottle that you notice is marked rubbing alcohol. Then she runs it along the tweezers. “Raise your arm a bit more for me,” she says. You do. [[◎ Page 77|◎ Page 77-ESCAPED.8-M]] <</if>>\ <<else>>\ <<if $mending>>\ “I can do it,” you say a bit rudely. 4 years of medicine weren’t for nothing, this is 101. She sits down next to you. <<if $clothesg>>\ You roll the hem of your dress up. <<else>>\ Without fanfare, you rip open your pant leg, hating ruining one your favorite pairs. <</if>>\ “Take me to the bathroom, I need to wash my hands and there’s better lighting in there to see inside the hole better,” you instruct and she helps you get up, an arm around your waist and her other hand holding the bag. You wash your hands in the sink with soap and then hop all the way to the tub. You sit down on its edge. You slowly swing your legs inside the tub and Charley sits down beside you, facing away towards the door. Now that you can peer inside, you look away quickly. You swallow a few times and breathe in deeply to control the vomit that wants to projectile out of you. The pain isn’t letting up either. What you would describe as ‘hot’ is now ‘searing’ and you’re white-knuckled as you grip the side of the tub. Charley bends closer to you, peering in. It’s a strange position to be in with her. Her shoulder grazes your chest. She leans back and hands you a small bottle. You read the label: Sodium Chloride. “Saline? Nice,” you say and take off the cap. You let it fall onto your wound and although it doesn’t make the pain any worse, the pain by itself is already pretty fucking awful. You bite your tongue to stop yourself from screaming out some pretty apt words for the occasion. “0 out of 10, would not get shot again,” you snark. Charley takes the bottle from you and hands you the bandages. You get to work wrapping it. When you know it’s ready, you add a metal clip and move your thigh around to make sure it’ll hold. A burst of pain shoots up your leg and you have to squeeze your eyes shut and grab the tub so hard your fingers ache. “I wanna sit down on the bed,” you tell her and she helps you up, taking you back into the room and depositing you slowly onto the bed. You wipe your sweaty brow and flex your fingers. She offers you a pain killer you greedily swallow dry. <<else>>\ “I’m tired,” you respond. You know how this would go, 4 years of medicine weren’t a walk in the park but you can’t be bothered. She sits down next to you. She starts untying the blood-stained fabric and you wince as the pressure lessens. Seeing the actual wound almost makes you bolt to the toilet. To say it’s disgusting is an understatement. It’s appalling. Revolting. Vile and the sharp smell of blood does wonders for your nausea. If the light of the room was harsher you would not be able to look. You’re not squeamish about things that happen to others. You can watch action and horror movies just fine. But apart from how nasty this looks, there’s also the fact that it’ll leave a gross scar. The edges of the wound are torn inward and likely the exit wound on the underside of your thigh has its edges blown outward. “Do you think there’s any fragments of the bullet in there?” you ask, knowing from classes that shrapnel is no joke. Charley opens her white bag to reveal a medicinal kit of sorts. She has tweezers, bottles with clear liquids, bottles with pills, cotton balls, scissors, band-aids and bandages in there. “Hopefully not,” she replies. “You’ve had to plug up many bullet wounds, huh, Charley?” you ask. “Quite a few,” she responds. <<if $clothesg>>\ Even though there are more serious things to think about, the fact that the hem of your dress isn’t stained lifts up your spirits. <<else>>\ “I’m going to have to rip your pants open,” she informs. You click your tongue. “You tied it up just fine.” She gives you a strange look. “They already have a hole in them, you can’t save your clothes either way.” You grumble. “Fine.” She wastes no time ripping your pant leg away and you scowl as fabric lays limp against your leg. <</if>>\ “Let’s go to the bathroom, there’s better light in there to see inside,” she affirms and helps you get up, an arm around your waist and her other hand holding the bag. You have to hop all the way to the tub and sit down on its edge. You slowly swing your legs inside the tub and Charley sits down beside you, facing away towards the door. Now that you can peer inside the wound, you look away quickly. You swallow a few times and breathe in deeply to control the vomit that wants to projectile out of you. The pain isn’t letting up either. What you would describe as ‘hot’ is now ‘searing’ and you’re white-knuckled as you drip the side of the tub. Charley bends closer to you, peering in. It’s a strange position to be in with her. Her shoulder grazes your chest. “I didn’t see anything. But I’m not an idiot, something might be too small to see. Wash your hands, we’ll use water but if you have saline I would prefer it. We’ll monitor it every 12 hours,” you tell her. She nods, gets up and goes to the sink. Then she sits back down and takes a bottle out of the bag. She lets it trickle down lightly onto your wound. The fact that you can feel it coming out the other end does make you wrinkle your nose. You take the ball of bandages and start unrolling it. Blood trails down your thighs, your knees and all the way down to your feet, creating a puddle of murky light reddish-pink liquid in the tub. Charley puts the bottle away and takes the bandages. She slowly and methodically wraps it around your thigh. She makes sure it’s tight but not painful before securing it with a clip. “Ok,” she says. She helps you up and takes you back to the bed, sitting you down softly. “I hope I don’t need stitches, it looks more gross than having it heal naturally,” you say. “Let’s hope not, then,” she replies. She hands you a pain killer and you gulp it down without water. [[◎ Page 80|◎ Page 80-ESCAPED.11]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\

<<if $respondd>>\ <<if $mending>>\ “With alcohol?” you ask, pointing to the bottle marked rubbing alcohol. “No. That’s a movie invention. Alcohol only aggravates a wound and causes unnecessary pain. In real life it hurts but it isn’t as dramatic,” she says. She takes out a bottle labeled Sodium Chloride. “This is saline. It’s the best thing you can use for this. Also, water.” “Is it gonna hurt?” you ask, steeling yourself as she hands you the bottle. “It won’t. The only pain you’ll feel right now is the one you already do from an open wound,” she explains. Still, you clench your teeth as you lightly dab around your wound and then pour saline into it. You let out a hiss but it’s not because the pain has changed. It just feels good to vocalize how much the bullet wound hurts. Trickles of blood run down your arm. “What next?” “You take it out,” she says. You inhale sharply. She doesn’t look at you, her entire focus on your arm but she does offer, “If you want, grab onto me with the hand of your injured arm. Tensing will make it hurt more but not by much.” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You do|◎ Page 78-ESCAPED.9][$grip to true]] [[You don’t|◎ Page 78-ESCAPED.9][$grip2 to true]] <<else>>\ “With alcohol?” you ask, pointing to the bottle. “No. That’s a movie invention. Alcohol only aggravates a wound and causes unnecessary pain. In real life it hurts but it isn’t as dramatic,” she says. She takes out a bottle labeled Sodium Chloride. “This is saline. It’s the best thing you can use for this. Also, water.” “Is it gonna hurt?” you ask, steeling yourself. “It won’t. The only pain you’ll feel right now is the one you already do from an open wound,” she explains. Still, you tense as she lightly dabs around your wound and then pours saline into it. You let out a hiss but it’s not because the pain has changed. It just feels good to vocalize how much the bullet wound hurts. “Ok, now I’ll be taking it out,” she says. You inhale sharply. She doesn’t look at you, her entire focus on your arm but she does offer, “If you want, grab onto me.” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You do|◎ Page 78-ESCAPED.9][$grip to true]] [[You don’t|◎ Page 78-ESCAPED.9][$grip2 to true]] <</if>>\ <<else>>\ <<if $mending>>\ <<if $clothesg>>\ “I won’t have to, like, take off my threads or something, right?” you ask. “No. You’re wearing a dress that isn’t obscuring the wound,” she responds. “Groovy.” <<else>>\ “First you’ll want to rip open your pant leg. It’ll be easier to see the wound,” she replies. “Ugh, really? I like these pants,” you say. “Really.” You curse but bend down and rip your pant leg open. You grimace at the state of your threads. <</if>>\ “Let’s go to the bathroom, there’s better light in there to see inside and you need to wash your hands if you’re going to do this,” she attests and helps you get up, an arm around your waist and her other hand holding the bag. You wash your hands in the sink with soap and then hop all the way to the tub. You sit down on its edge. You slowly swing your legs inside the tub and Charley sits down beside you, facing away towards the door. Now that you can peer inside the wound, you look away quickly. You swallow a few times and breathe in deeply to control the vomit that wants to projectile out of you. The pain isn’t letting up either. What you would describe as ‘hot’ is now ‘searing’ and you’re white-knuckled as you drip the side of the tub. Charley bends closer to you, peering in. It’s a strange position to be in with her. Her shoulder grazes your chest. “What are you doing?” you ask. “Checking to see if there’s any fragments but there doesn’t appear to be,” she says. [[◎ Page 78|◎ Page 78-ESCAPED.9]] <<else>>\ <<if $clothesg>>\ Even though there are more serious things to think about, the fact that the hem of your dress isn’t stained perks up your spirits. <<else>>\ “I’m going to have to rip your pants open,” she informs. You click your tongue. “You tied it up just fine.” She gives you a strange look. “They already have a hole in them, you can’t save your clothes either way.” You grumble. “Fine.” She wastes no time ripping your pant leg away and you scowl as fabric lays limp against your leg. <</if>>\ “Let’s go to the bathroom, there’s better light in there to see inside,” she affirms and helps you get up, an arm around your waist and her other hand holding the bag. You have to hop all the way to the tub and sit down on its edge. You slowly swing your legs inside the tub and Charley sits down beside you, facing away towards the door. Now that you can peer inside the wound, you look away quickly. You swallow a few times and breathe in deeply to control the vomit that wants to projectile out of you. The pain isn’t letting up either. What you would describe as ‘hot’ is now ‘searing’ and you’re white-knuckled as you drip the side of the tub. Charley bends closer to you, peering in. It’s a strange position to be in with her. Her shoulder grazes your chest. “I don’t see any fragments. But that doesn’t mean they’re not there. We have to be careful,” she explains. “I’m going to wash my hands, then clean the wound and bandage it properly. We’ll have to regularly check on it in the upcoming days for signs of infection.” [[◎ Page 78|◎ Page 78-ESCAPED.9]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\

<<if $respondd>>\ <<if $mending>>\ <<if $grip1>>\ You grip her pants tightly and the blazing ache you had felt before, is marred by a sharp pain that makes you bite into your tongue. <<elseif $grip2>>\ You can do this. Yeah. Of course. Definitely. You gulp. <</if>>\ The tweezers go in and you don’t feel it for a moment. Then you hesitate a hair’s breadth before the actual bullet. You suck in your lower lip. “$honorific?” Charley asks. You blow out your cheeks. “Yeah. Right.” You swallow, your throat dry. You grab onto the bullet and there’s a hot flare of pain so bad you gasp, not being able to even scream because it hurts too much to get relief. Your body tenses up but you don’t move. “$honorific—” “SHUT UP!” you curse and bare your teeth as you start pulling it out. Your sounds of pain are stuck in your parched throat but tears spring from your eyes. You dig in deeper. “Try to be gentle, too much moving around will aggravate the wound even more,” she explains. You start pulling it out and your stomach swirls with the feeling of nausea. Beads of sweat fall into your eyes and you blink them away. You pull it out and drop the tweezers. You push Charley away as you run to the toilet and barely make it before vomit pours out of your mouth. You haven’t eaten much in the past hours but it comes out in thick putrid streams, burning your throat and eyes. Your stomach clenches and releases over and over until all you’re doing is gagging on nothing. [[◎ Page 79|◎ Page 79-ESCAPED.10]] <<else>>\ <<if $grip1>>\ You grip her pants tightly. <<elseif $grip2>>\ You can do this. Yeah. Of course. Definitely. You gulp. <</if>>\ The tweezers go in and you don’t feel it for a moment. Then Charley grabs onto the bullet and there’s a hot flare of pain so bad you gasp, not being able to even scream because it hurts too much to get relief. She doesn’t stop even as you’re gasping for air. She digs in the tweezers a bit deeper to make sure she has a good hold of the bullet and then starts pulling. You hunch forward, not being able to double-over because she has a tight grip on your arm. “Fuck,” you manage to sputter out with a good amount of spit. Then she lets go of your arm and you bend down until your face is touching your knees. Your arm is still out. “I took it out,” she says. You don’t reply. You’re trying very hard to not cry like a pussy. You feel tears at the corners of your eyes. Your breathing is hitched and you feel bile threatening to crawl up your throat. “I’m going to wash the wound out again and then bandage it up. I’ll check on it first thing tomorrow. The most important thing is to check for signs of infection,” she explains. You hear her get up and go to the bathroom. She washes her hands and comes back. You don’t move at all even though your shoulder starts aching from being bent out as you’re hunched over. [[◎ Page 79|◎ Page 79-ESCAPED.10]] <</if>>\ <<else>>\ <<if $mending>>\ She leans back and hands you a small bottle. You read the label: Sodium Chloride. “Where’s the alcohol?” you ask. “We don’t need it. This, along with water, is the best for wound treatment. Alcohol is the worst, I never understood why that’s a persistent myth,” Charley comments. “Saline isn’t going to burn, the last thing we need is to aggravate the wound.” “Alright.” You let it fall onto your wound and although it doesn’t make the pain an worse, the pain by itself is already pretty fucking awful. You bite your tongue to stop yourself from screaming out some pretty apt words for the occasion. “0 out of 10, would not get shot again,” you snark. Charley takes the bottle from you and hands you the bandages. “So I just wrap this around my thigh and then tie it, right? Nothing special?” you ask. “That’s right. Make sure it’s tight but not too tight where it could suffocate the wound,” she responds. “Then clip it closed.” You get to work wrapping it. When you think it’s ready you look at Charley who nods. You add the clip and make sure it holds. A burst of pain shoots up your leg and you have to squeeze your eyes shut and grab the tub so hard your fingers ache. “Here,” Charley says and you open your eyes to see a small white pill in your hand. You take it without water. “I wanna sit down on the bed,” you tell her and she helps you up, taking you back into the room and depositing you slowly onto the bed. You wipe your sweaty brow and flex your fingers. [[◎ Page 80|◎ Page 80-ESCAPED.11]] <<else>>\ She gets up and goes to the sink. Then she sits back down and takes a bottle out of the bag. She lets liquid trickle lightly down onto your wound. The fact that you can feel it coming out the other end does make you wrinkle your nose. “This is saline. It, along with water, is the best for wound treatment. Alcohol is the worst, I never understood why that’s a persistent myth,” Charley comments. “Saline isn’t going to burn, the last thing we need is to aggravate the wound.” Blood trails down your thighs, your knees and all the way down to your feet, creating a puddle of murky light reddish-pink liquid in the tub. Charley puts the bottle away and takes the bandages. She slowly and methodically wraps it around your thigh. She makes sure it’s tight but not painful before securing it with a clip. “Ok,” she says. She helps you up and takes you back to the bed, sitting you down softly. [[◎ Page 80|◎ Page 80-ESCAPED.11]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\

<<if $mending>>\ “Fuck,” you manage to rasp out with a good amount of spit. You pull the seat down and lay your cheek against it as you flush it. A light touch on your arm makes you jump. Charley kneels beside you. A hand rubbing your back. “I’m going to wash the wound out again and then bandage it up. I’ll check on it first thing tomorrow. The most important thing is to check for signs of infection,” she explains. You’re too weak to protest that you don’t need her help and you can do it yourself. She washes her hands and sits back down. She cleans it up as much as she can; you feel the saline trickle down your arm and then you hear the sound of fabric and scissors. She bandages it up tightly but with enough room for you to move your arm. “You’re likely wondering why I’m not stitching this up,” she says. You’re in too much pain for that but you don’t correct her. “It’s better if I don’t. If all possible causes of infection aren’t washed out, they could get trapped in there and I would need to rip open the stitches. If everything looks fine in a few days and if you want it—I can close it.” She helps you sit up slightly and you look at your arm. Charley finishes securing the bandage. There’s reddish-pink trails of blood down your arm. Your bodyguard puts everything away as you sit there and breathe in and out. Beads of sweat are rolling down your already wet face. You can’t even try to explain how much the throbbing hurts. She holds out a small white pill and a bottle of water. You take it without asking what it is, more than glad to leave it all to her. She guides you back to the bed with an arm around your waist. She sits you down gently. [[◎ Page 80|◎ Page 80-ESCAPED.11]] <<else>>\ “You’re likely wondering why I’m not stitching this up,” she says. You’re in too much pain for that but you don’t correct her. “It’s better if I don’t. If all possible causes of infection aren’t washed out, they could get trapped in there and I would need to rip open the stitches. If everything looks fine in a few days and if you want it—I can close it.” You feel the saline trickle down your arm and then you hear the sound of fabric and scissors. Charley rolls the bandages around your arm over and over again. It becomes tight but not too much. You finally sit up slightly and look at your arm. Charley finishes securing the bandage. There’s reddish-pink trails of blood down your arm. Your bodyguard puts everything away as you sit there and breathe in and out. Beads of sweat are rolling down your already wet face. You can’t even try to explain how much the throbbing hurts. She holds out a small white pill and a bottle of water. You take it without asking what it is, more than glad to leave it all to her. [[◎ Page 80|◎ Page 80-ESCAPED.11]] <</if>>\

<<audio "montage" stop>>\ <<audio "dante" loop play>>\ After, when the pain isn’t as blinding and when every word out of your mouth isn’t curses never spoken in the human language before, you lay on the bed. Hands on your stomach, and staring up at the ceiling. Your feet dangle off the bed and you kick them up and down like you’re on a swing. <<if $spain>>\ Charley sits on that chair she has claimed ownership of. She’s reading the Bible, courtesy of the hotel. She already knew how to speak and read Spanish when you met her. <<elseif $italy>>\ Charley sits on that chair she has claimed ownership of. She’s reading the Bible, courtesy of the hotel. She speaks and reads Italian like a native. <<elseif $germany>>\ Charley sits on that chair she has claimed ownership of. She’s reading the Bible, courtesy of the hotel. You knew she spoke German but you didn’t know she could read it. <<elseif $france>>\ Charley sits on that chair she has claimed ownership of. She’s reading the Bible, courtesy of the hotel. She could speak French before you even met her. <<else>>\ Charley sits on that chair she has claimed ownership of. She’s reading the Bible, courtesy of the hotel. The King James version. England, figures. <</if>>\ You don’t like being bored and having someone else not be bored. Although, blasphemous or not, you never thought the Bible could cure your boredom. “Ever read it before?” you ask her nonchalantly. “Hm? Oh yes, quite a few times,” she replies. “Aren’t you Indian?” you ask. “I am. Does that mean I shouldn’t? Do you not want me to?” she asks sincerely. “Aren’t you guys, like, Islamic?” you ask. “I think you’re looking for the word Hindu, although there are Muslims in India,” she says. “Yeah that. //Hindu//,” you say with flourish by raising your hands and wiggling your fingers. “Isn’t it, like, sacrilegious or whatever the fuck for you to read the Bible?” “Would you get in trouble if you read //The Vedas//, as a Roman Catholic?” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“Don’t ask me about that.”|◎ Page 81-ESCAPED.12][$a1 to true]] [[“Probably not.”|◎ Page 81-ESCAPED.12][$a2 to true]] [[“What are The Vedas?”|◎ Page 81-ESCAPED.12]]

<<if $a1>>\ “I would cry every Sunday when my parents would make me go to church. Then Sunday school until I realized that even the servants of God can be bribed to say I was there.” She slightly squints. “You’re a believer, yet, you’re the least religious person I’ve ever met.” You smile. “Is that a compliment? I’m gonna take it as a compliment.” <<elseif $a2>>\ “But!” you raise a finger. “I don't know shit about religious practices. So I might be.” “You won’t be,” she answers. You smile. “Groovy. That doesn’t mean I’m going to read the Vedes. I’m still on Genesis and it’s been 10 years.” “Vedas,” she corrects. “Yeah, like I said.” <<else>>\ “It’s an ancient Hindu text and it’s a book about how to live your life, in a religious way and in a moral way,” she explains. “So like a self-help book?” you ask. She tilts her head back and forth. “Kind of. But it would be offensive to call it that. It’s not just a set of rules to live by, it’s everything. It’s a spiritual guide. It is a pillar to grab onto when the world seems confusing.” “So like… self-help-ish?” you ask, narrowing your eyes in confusion. “-ish.” <</if>>\ “Do you still believe in your Gods?” “Yes,” she says without hesitation. “They remind me of home.” “I never saw you wear any symbol or read any sacred text. I honestly thought you believed in your gun and that’s it,” you respond. “I think true belief is inside a person. A symbol only works to tell everyone else that you believe. I know who I am, I know Vishnu can see in my heart.” You snort. “That is the most romantic I’ve ever heard you speak. Don’t you believe in science?” “I do. I can believe in my Gods and in science.” “How?” “Brahman is all things. Nothing can exist without it, not even science. It is everything that is and will be.” [[◎ Page 82|◎ Page 82-ESCAPED.13]]

You sigh, “I guess. I don’t know anything about that shit.” <<if $skin is 'having an Italian father and Indian mother'>>\ My Ma’s Indian and she never told us anything about her people’s beliefs. I think she wanted to be as American as possible. “I could teach you sometime. If you want to know,” she says. You make a noise. “Why not?” <<else>>\ “You could always learn,” she suggests. You shrug a shoulder. “I don’t read and I barely know much about my own culture.” <</if>>\ Charley closes the book and you sit up, she immediately goes to secure the pillows under your back. That’s the best thing about her. Charley never needs to be told, she knows what you need. You never say thank you to her. You can’t remember the last time you did. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Grab her hand [Gentle]|◎ Page 83-ESCAPED.14][$re1 to true]] [[Find a roundabout way to thank her [Grudging]|◎ Page 83-ESCAPED.14][$re2 to true]] [[Say it [Grounded]|◎ Page 83-ESCAPED.14][$re3 to true]] [[Don’t say anything [Spoiled]|◎ Page 83-ESCAPED.14]]

<<if $re1>>\ Entirely impulsive and the minute your hand touches her, you think you’ve made a really embarrassing mistake. Charley looks down at your hand, holding onto hers for dear life. You start thinking about something really dumb: //what if my hand is sweaty?// “You’re very brave, $honorific,” she says. <<set $Gentle += 1>> You snort to cover up how ridiculous you feel. “Since when?” “Since always,” she replies and lets go. <<elseif $re2>>\ “That’s just what I needed, and you always know. It’s helpful. You really work for that check,” you say sheepishly and then you look away because like hell are you going to feel embarrassed in front of your employee. <<set $Gentle += 1>> You can see her standing there in your periphery. “It’s good to hear that.” You don’t say anything else about this and she doesn’t either and thank God. <<elseif $re3>>\ “Uh…” you begin and then you mumble. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded + 0.2, 0, 100)>> “What was that?” she asks. You look away and feel your face burn. “…thanks, I guess.” “Of course.” And that’s that, thank God. <<else>>\ You snuggle into your bed. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded - 0.2, 0, 100)>>\ <</if>>\ Charley sits back where she was and lays her hands on your thigh, one on top of the other. Her back is erect and her pin-straight black hair looks as flawless as ever. She doesn’t look like she just ran for her life with you. Unlike you, you probably look like a mess. And for some reason, that makes your mood flare. She must feel your mood changing—fucking creepy how she can sense that. “Do you wish to sleep?” she asks. “No, I wish to know what the fuck is going on?!” you sit up a bit higher. “Charley, we were attacked at my party by Dante fucking Greco.” Charley doesn’t react. You groan and lean your head against the headboard, “I know you know something. You know everything. You gotta know why that coked-out psycho decided to ruin my party.” Charley runs her thumb across the fingernail of her other thumb. Rubbing it back and forth. “What?” you quirk an eyebrow. “There’s something you’re not fucking telling me and I swear to God and your Gods too, Charley, that I will get you fucking deported or something if you don’t tell me.” You stare at her seriously, biting your cheek to prevent your lips from smiling. You’re a real asshole and it does make you feel better. But Charley doesn’t, even now, take the bait. She never talks back. No matter how much shit you would say to her, especially on nights when you got shit-faced or Sam was acting annoying; you would take it out on the closest person and that usually happened to be her or Marcey. You didn’t even want her as a bodyguard when your Pa gave her to you. You made sure to try and piss her off even then. [[◎ Page 84|◎ Page 84-ESCAPED.15]]

<h2>//__''1971''__//</h2>\ <<audio "montage" fadeout>>\ “Are you fucking kidding me, Pa?” you asked. Your Pa shot you a displeased look, “Mind your manners, $name. You shouldn’t speak like that in front of an employee.” You lowered your sunglasses and peered at the girl from over the brightly colored lenses. She wasn’t much. She was wearing a suit, dark navy plaited slacks, a button up shirt with a tinge of blue and a dark navy blazer that reached her thighs. The only pop of color that wasn’t blue was the brown belt she had on. Her shoes were black Oxfords. She wasn’t even wearing fucking jewelry. You were appalled and your face didn’t hide it. The girl—woman apparently, although she looked younger than you—stood there with her hands clasped behind her back and a placid smile on her face. You sat on your Pa’s desk, ass on the edge, while he sat on his chair. He had asked her to sit but she said she preferred standing. Strike number one against the freak. “She doesn’t even wear jewelry Pa. She’s probably a lesbo,” you hissed. “She can hear you. She’s right in front of you. You don’t need to act like she’s not here,” your Pa said sternly. You rolled your eyes. “A good bodyguard is supposed to make sure you don’t even notice them. I’m quite literally testing her out.” [[◎ Page 85|◎ Page 85-ESCAPED.16]]

You eyed the woman up and down again. “What do you think about parties… What was your name again?” “Charlotte,” your Pa replied. “Charley,” she corrected. “Charley Das, please. Charlotte is too formal.” You cocked an eyebrow, maybe all hope isn’t lost. 0.5 points in favor of the freak. She looked at you as she replied, “I don’t mind parties. I’m not much of a partier myself but I can go to them and stay for hours.” “Until dawn?” you inquired. “You aren’t staying at parties until dawn, Tesoro, you’re going there to study,” your Pa interrupted. Charley looked from your Pa to you, you gestured for her to respond. “Yes. My stamina and endurance are nearly inexhaustible. I will be able to accompany you to whatever social plans you have,” she said. 1 point for the freak. You pursed your lips for a second, thinking of what else to ask her. But you already knew your answer. You weren’t hiring her. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[She’s too hot|◎ Page 86-ESCAPED.17][$fbr1 to true]] [[She’s nothing like you|◎ Page 86-ESCAPED.17][$fbr2 to true]] [[You don’t think a woman can be a good bodyguard|◎ Page 86-ESCAPED.17]]

<<if $fbr1>>\ It was actually a bit distracting and you felt an emotion you really didn’t like: jealousy. No one could be hotter than you and you thought she either was just close enough or even… God forbid… hotter. Just by being near you, she would have outshined you and that wasn’t happening on your watch. You needed an ugly bitch. <<elseif $fbr2>>\ It would’ve been fucking annoying having a Debbie downer hovering around you. It was like <span class="tooltip">hooking up<span class="tooltiptext"> <strong>Hooking up</strong><br> Used to mean hanging out. </span></span> with a younger version of your parents. You already got enough head shakes from them when you did something—untoward as they say—and you didn’t want to spend your university days with the eye of disapproval, thank you. <<else>>\ You looked her up and down, especially her arms. She looked pretty fit but she was a girl. There was a reason why when people thought of the word ‘bodyguard’ they thought of men. It would have been pathetic if you went around with her as your security. <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ Bigger, taller guys would’ve beaten the shit out of her and since you looked like a girl you wouldn’t have been able to help her and you shouldn’t have had to. <<elseif $nbf>>\ Bigger, taller guys would’ve beaten the shit out of her and since you looked like a girl you wouldn’t have been able to help her and you shouldn’t have had to. <<else>>\ It was fucking emasculating and you would’ve had to rescue her ass from other guys. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ You looked back at your Pa. “Papà, can I talk to her alone for a sec? I want to get to know her better and it’s too freaky deaky to have you here. You have Charley in the hot seat.” Your Pa gave you a confused look. “The lingo of you kids today makes no sense to me.” Still, he got up, kissed you on the head and left the office. Once he closed the door, you crossed your arms and stared the woman down. “You do know this ain’t gonna work out? You and me?” She blinked. “Why not, $honorific?” You answered, “I need someone I can party with, like really party with, and you’re not that girl. You’re a total square who’ll be standing in the corner and killing the funk at my parties.” She regarded you for a second. Her eyes were lasering in on your colorful big rounded sunglasses. “I don’t agree, $honorific.” You huffed. “I don’t give a fuck if you don’t agree. Don’t bank all your hopes on what my Pa says.” You pointed to yourself, “I’ve got final say and I say you’re not groovy enough to be seen with me.” [[◎ Page 87|◎ Page 87-ESCAPED.18]]

Charley Das didn’t at all react to your words. She had just kept staring at you with those big brown eyes. It kind of freaked you out so you pretended to pick at a hangnail. You were convinced that you weren’t gonna accept her. You had already said no when your Pa first showed you her resumé. And it took a special sort of person to make you change your mind. But Charley was no ordinary person, because she knew about you too. Not from a resumé. In a different, more thorough way. She knew you would be a tough cookie to crack. She knew you would judge her demeanor, her clothes, maybe even the color of her skin if you were one of those types. She knew what they said about you; that you were egotistical to the point of clinical, selfish, obsessed with material things and appearances; that you had no true friends and you seemed to relish in the power you held over others. But everyone had a weakness. Charley learned that long ago and as she watched you that day in 1971, she knew exactly what to say to you. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“Your Pa wants me to report everything you do.”|◎ Page 88-ESCAPED.19][$fbr4 to true]] [[“You’ll become even cooler with me around.”|◎ Page 88-ESCAPED.19][$fbr5 to true]] [[“People will think you’re more attractive.”|◎ Page 88-ESCAPED.19][$fbr6 to true]] [[“If you accept me, you’ll make your father happy.”|◎ Page 88-ESCAPED.19]]

<<if $fbr4>>\ You raised an eyebrow. “And you think it’s a good idea to tell me that?” She nodded. “Your father pays me, but I work for you. I will spend more time with you. It’s best to build trust, is it not?” You squinted. “I guess so, Charley Das.” <<elseif $fbr5>>\ You smiled indulgently. “Really? How does that work?” “Who else has a bodyguard around? It’s rare, all things considered. You’re not going to a private university where that would be more common.” You tilted your head. Hm. <<elseif $fbr6>>\ You snorted. “Do you think I’m that vain?” She replied, “I think you pay particular attention to your appearance, by the way you dress, how you style your hair and the jewelry you wear.” You smiled, she did think you were vain but she was good at framing it just the way you wanted to hear it. <<else>>\ You narrowed your eyes. “How do you know I want to make my Pa happy?” “You love him,” she replied simply. You looked at your rings. “It’s true that it’ll get him off my ass.” You mushed your hair as you thought. Your stomach was queasy with the idea that crazy killers might be looking for you at this moment. You could die. “$honorific, are you ok?” <</if>>\ You, Luce $surname, considered Charley Das once again. But this time, you //really// looked at her. A smirk formed on your face. [[◎ Page 89|◎ Page 89-ESCAPED.20]]

<<audio "midnight" loop play>>\ “There have been rumors going on about your father,” Charley interrupts your memory. You find that you were already looking at her but in a very glazed-eye way. You blink several times to bring yourself back to the present. “What?” Charley looks at you for a moment before continuing on, “Since last year there have been rumors that your father was talking to the FBI about illicit activities committed by various members of the five families.” You snort. “What? That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard.” “I thought so too, which is why I didn’t mention it to you sooner, because I didn’t want to waste your time on something I didn’t even think was true,” she says. You cover up a yawn. “Ok. What does that have to do with anything?” Charley slowly blinks, her face barely changing but a twitch here or there gives off the impression that she’s trying to tell you something. You narrow your eyes. “My Pa isn’t a rat.” “I never said he was. But many were talking about that. I kept hearing this gossip from members of your father’s organization. Then these rumors spread to Silvio Greco,” she claims. “Great,” you sigh. “Just great.” [[◎ Page 90|◎ Page 90-ESCAPED.21]]

Charley tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “This story started really gaining traction a few weeks ago and from what I last heard, Mr. Greco had discovered some… evidence that this was true.” You scoff. “What evidence?’ “I don’t know. I haven’t seen it. But you do know what could happen to people accused of talking to the Feds, right?” You look away. “I don’t know about it that well. I’m not a part of The Family.” “Ok, but based on this //evidence//, Mr. Greco likely decided to act and tonight was a consequence of that,” she explains. You shoot a glare at her. “But I have nothing to fucking do with any of this! I’m a college student. A civilian, right? Why the fuck am I being shot at, is my party being ruined and my friends being killed?” <<if $respondd>>\ Your words falter at the end. You can’t think of her. Laying dead on the floor. Did you try hard enough? <<else>>\ Your words falter at the end. You can’t think of her. Laying dead on the floor. You didn’t even try to save her. You clench your teeth. No it wasn’t your fault. <</if>>\ Charley says, “Mafia heads aren’t known to be the most level-headed people. It would hurt your father a lot if they went after his children. You were the least protected—you only have me as your protection—so they must’ve thought it would be easy to take you.” You mush your hair as you think. Your stomach starts churning with the thought that crazy killers might be looking for you at this moment. You could die. “$honorific, are you ok?” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“Why me?”|◎ Page 91-ESCAPED.22][$th1 to true]] [[“Why would my Pa turn snitch?”|◎ Page 91-ESCAPED.22-2][$th2 to true]] [[“What do we do now?”|◎ Page 91-ESCAPED.22-3][$th3 to true]]

“Like, what the fuck did I do to deserve this?” you ask. Charley seems unsure whether you’re actually asking her or not. You run your hands through your hair in exasperation. You shake your head. “Ma and Pa wanted me to grow up away from all this, this isn’t the life I’m supposed to have.” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ <<if $th1>>\ ==“Why me?”== <<else>>\ [[“Why me?”|◎ Page 91-ESCAPED.22][$th1 to true]] <</if>>\ <<if $th2>>\ ==“Why would my Pa turn snitch?”== <<else>>\ [[“Why would my Pa turn snitch?”|◎ Page 91-ESCAPED.22-2][$th2 to true]] <</if>>\ <<if $th3>>\ ==“What do we do now?”== <<else>>\ [[“What do we do now?”|◎ Page 91-ESCAPED.22-3][$th3 to true]] <</if>>

Charley shrugs. “There’s many reasons why. Sometimes criminals are caught and they’re offered a deal. Other times they want to throw heat onto a rival and other times they might seek to change sides for moral reasons; that last one is rare.” You shake your head. “My Pa doesn’t sound like the type to do any of that. He’s loyal.” Charley nods, her face giving nothing away. “He’s not,” you insist, not knowing who you’re trying to convince. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ <<if $th1>>\ ==“Why me?”== <<else>>\ [[“Why me?”|◎ Page 91-ESCAPED.22][$th1 to true]] <</if>>\ <<if $th2>>\ ==“Why would my Pa turn snitch?”== <<else>>\ [[“Why would my Pa turn snitch?”|◎ Page 91-ESCAPED.22-2][$th2 to true]] <</if>>\ <<if $th3>>\ ==“What do we do now?”== <<else>>\ [[“What do we do now?”|◎ Page 91-ESCAPED.22-3][$th3 to true]] <</if>>

“Tonight? We sleep. Tomorrow we can talk about what we’ll do next,” she replies. “Ok, ok, ok.” You blow air out of your cheeks and you put your head in your hands. You’re on the verge of panicking. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“My Pa isn’t a snitch.”|◎ Page 92-ESCAPED.23][$pal to true]] [[“My Pa fucked us.”|◎ Page 92-ESCAPED.23]]

<<if $pal>>\ “He just can’t be. That’s, like, against everything he believes in,” you say. “He always had this thing that unless someone betrayed you, you owed them loyalty for life and even someone’s betrayal had conditions, so he wouldn’t immediately snitch.” “Well, you know him best,” Charley replies neutrally. You look at her, “You don’t believe he’s a rat, right?” She says, “You’re my boss. I believe what you believe.” That’s a non-fucking-answer but you know trying to get a real one out of her requires more energy than what you have. <<else>>\ “You believe he did turn informant?” she asks. You shrug. “He might’ve had a reason. Maybe he needed to do it to protect us,” you say dejectedly. “If it’s true, he fucked us over and he knew that could happen.” Charley doesn’t voice her thoughts on that. <</if>>\ You’re breathing through your mouth so loudly you think you might just drop dead. “$honorific, would you like some water?” You don’t reply and she takes that as a ‘yes.’ You can’t hear her footsteps on the carpet. You hear the faucet in the bathroom running. You look from between your fingers as she puts the plastic cup on the nightstand. You follow her as she goes back to sit down in that damn chair that’s pissing you off. As you try to control your anger you ask, “What does $samP.name have to do with any of this?” Charley looks at your eyes in between your fingers. “Who suggested that the party be held at that nightclub?’ “Sam.” “The Grecos made a deal with Sam to get easier access to you. They might’ve thought you were going to be too drunk to put up a fight.” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“Why do you think Sam betrayed me?”|◎ Page 93-ESCAPED.24][$sc1 to true]] [[“Where do you think Sam is now?”|◎ Page 93-ESCAPED.24][$sc3 to true]] <<link `"“Why did you never like " + $samP.obj + ".”"` "◎ Page 94-ESCAPED.25">> <<set $sc4 = true>> <</link>>

<<if $sc1>>\ <<if $sam is "masc">>\ Charley considers this a moment. “Money? Business? Revenge? It’s hard to tell with your fiancé.” <<elseif $sam is "fem">>\ Charley considers this a moment. “Money? Business? Revenge? It’s hard to tell with your fiancée.” <</if>>\ <<elseif $sc2>>\ She responds with tact and honesty, “There was something about $samP.obj that never fully convinced me $samP.subj was trustworthy.” “Something,” you echo. “Something. A gut feeling,” she says. <<elseif $sc3>>\ “Could be at $samP.possAdj place. Although if $samP.subj thinks someone could come after $samP.obj in retaliation, $samP.obj might have gone back to $samP.possAdj parents,” she suggests. You sigh. “It’s some consolation that $samP.obj is scared shitless.” <</if>> <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“I kind of deserved that.”|◎ Page 94-ESCAPED.25][$sc5 to true]] [[“Bit of fucking overkill.”|◎ Page 94-ESCAPED.25][$sc6 to true]] <<link `"“I'm going to kill " + $samP.obj + ".”"` "◎ Page 94-ESCAPED.25">> <<set $sc4 = true>> <</link>>\

<<if $sc4>>\ You look at Charley. “It doesn’t matter wherever the fuck $samP.subj hides. I’m going to find $samP.obj one day.” She doesn’t say anything to that. Maybe she agrees. <<elseif $sc5>>\ <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ You look down at your hands. “I was kind of a… shitty girlfriend. Definitely not marriage material. Like maybe this reaction wasn’t normal from Sam but it’s not entirely crazy I got some karma.” <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ You look down at your hands. “I was kind of a… shitty boyfriend. Definitely not marriage material. Like maybe this reaction wasn’t normal from Sam but it’s not entirely crazy I got some karma.” <<else>>\ You look down at your hands. “I was kind of a… shitty partner. Definitely not marriage material. Like maybe this reaction wasn’t normal from Sam but it’s not entirely crazy I got some karma.” <</if>>\ She just looks at you, neither agreeing or disagreeing. <<elseif $sc6>>\ You spread your hands out. “Ok, I wasn’t always the best but like… WHO SENDS A PSYCHO LIKE DANTE GRECO AFTER ME?! LIKE WHAT THE FUCK?!” Charley replies, “It was an excessive reaction.” <<if $sam is "masc">>\ “RIGHT!? $samP.subjCap a crazy MOTHERFUCKER!” <<elseif $sam is "fem">>\ “RIGHT!? $samP.subjCap a crazy CUNT!” <</if>>\ Her eyes widen. <</if>>\ You run a shaky hand through your hair. You feel almost delirious. Can you be high on fear? ''Control''. You throw your hands down and ask, “Why didn’t you see it coming? You’re supposed to be a fucking prodigy at this?” There’s a slight twitch on Charley’s forehead. “I’m not a prodigy but I do pride myself on being good at my job.” You laugh bitterly, “Really? This is what you call being good at your JOB? I almost got killed! Marcey is dead! I’m fucking stuck in this shitty hotel!” Charley’s face relaxes. “$honorific, you’re injured. It’s not good for you to exert yourself,” she says in that fucking conciliatory tone she uses whenever she treats you like you’re a toddler. You throw a pillow at her that she easily ducks. “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FUCKING SEE WHAT SAM WAS GOING TO DO! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FUCKING TELL ME THAT SILVIO SUSPECTED MY PA! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO CONVINCE ME TO HAVE THE PARTY SOMEWHERE ELSE!” You’re screaming now and throwing things off the bed. Your wound starts aching but you’re getting so angry you don’t care if it starts bleeding. You get up and yell abuse at her with your fists balled, shaking. You don’t even really know what you’re saying but it feels __good__ and isn’t that the point of your life? “YOU DID THIS!” She doesn’t make a move as your finger pokes aggressively into her chest. Her passive eyes just stay on yours. “UGH!” you move away and gesticulate with your hands, “YOU NEVER FUCKING REACT EITHER! ALWAYS COOL CHARLEY! DO SOMETHING!” “What would you like me to do, $honorific?” she asks in a simple tone. You groan loudly, grab your hair, and go to the bathroom, slamming the door behind you and locking it. You throw the toilet seat down and sit. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Instantly regret it|◎ Page 95-ESCAPED.26][$regretc to true]] [[Simmer in your anger|◎ Page 95-ESCAPED.26]]

<<audio "montage" fadeout>>\ <<if $regretc>>\ You close your eyes and sigh. Fuck. You regretted the words the moment you said them but your mouth is like a violent current when you get mad. You want to stop the words from coming out but your mouth and your brain aren’t exactly friends. You cross your arms. “Huh.” Why should you feel bad? You’ve talked to her like this before and she's never offended. What’s so different about it now? Great, you’re starting to feel bad for the help as if she isn’t paid to deal with your shit. <<else>>\ You glare at the wall, imagining it’s her face. She didn’t even crack as you yelled and that just makes you angrier. She could at least fucking pretend! Her job isn’t only to protect you but to make you feel better. Robot bitch. Maybe you should point a gun in her stupid fucking face. Maybe then she would show you the fear you deserve. If someone isn’t scared of you, they don’t respect you. <</if>>\ You breathe in deeply and stand up, going to the mirror. You put your fingers underneath your eyelids and pull. <<if $respondd>>\ God, you look bad. Your skin looks sallow underneath these harsh lights. Your hair is messed up and not in a sexy way. There are flecks of your own blood and maybe…? You did have to step over a lot of bodies. You fainted, great, really. You didn’t have to see the rest of the carnage. Charley proved her competency. You wonder how that feels... killing someone. Does Charley feel anything? Is it like running over a dog? Is it like taking drugs? The more you take the less you feel and you need a bigger hit? Could you do it? If it came down to it? If Charley was about to die or someone else you cared for, would you commit murder? You don’t know. Why are you even thinking about this anyway? Morbid shit. You lower your hands and look at them. Your fingernails are <<cycle "$nails" autoselect>><<option "short and bare">><<option "long and painted red">><<option "long and painted hot glittery pink">><<option "long and painted glittery blue">><<option "long and painted glittery purple">><<option "long and painted glittery gold">><</cycle>>. There’s some blood on them but hardly anything to say ‘hey, these hands are covered in the blood of my friends.’ Isn’t there a Shakespeare play about bloody hands? That couldn’t be washed clean? What was its name? You’re sure Charley popped in a random fact. She’s so ==dorky== intellectual. You’ll just say it was //Othello//, whatever. <<else>>\ God, you look bad. Your skin looks sallow underneath these harsh lights. Your hair is messed up and not in a sex-way. There’s flecks of your own blood and maybe…? You did have to step over a lot of bodies and shoot someone. You killed someone. You, $name $surname, Luce, you shot and killed someone. You took a life. Someone you didn’t even know. You never even saw his face. Didn’t know his name and now never will. Did he have a family? Kids? Was his wife waiting for him at home? What were the last words he ever said? Strange how two people can be born without anything that could ever indicate they will ever meet and then 22 years later, one of them kills the other and suddenly becomes the most important person in the deceased’s life. You lower your hands and look at them. Your fingernails are <<cycle "$nails" autoselect>><<option "short and bare">><<option "long and painted red">><<option "long and painted hot glittery pink">><<option "long and painted glittery blue">><<option "long and painted glittery purple">><<option "long and painted glittery gold">><</cycle>>. There’s some blood on them but hardly anything to say ‘hey, these hands belong to a killer.’ Isn’t there a Shakespeare play about bloody hands? That couldn’t be washed clean? What was its name? You’re sure Charley popped in a random fact. She’s so ==dorky== intellectual. You’ll just say it was //Othello//, whatever. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 96|◎ Page 96-ESCAPED.27]]

Apart from the gross wound underneath your bandages and the slightly manic look in your eye, you don’t look different at all. It’s like losing your virginity—<<cycle "$virgin" autoselect>><<option "not that you’d know">><<option "subpar experience by the way">><</cycle>>—you expect to look different, for there to be an aura of change around you, something in your body that shows something has changed. But you look the same. You lean forward to get a better look at your face. <<if $respondd>>\ Who’s face is this? You look up at the ceiling. God’s watching, right? Maybe he could tell you. [[◎ Page 97|◎ Page 97-ESCAPED.28]] <<else>>\ Is this the face of a murderer? You look up at the ceiling. God’s watching, right? Will you go to hell even if you didn’t mean to kill someone at all? <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Jesus, you think you’re about to throw up [Merciful]|◎ Page 97-ESCAPED.28][$m1 to true]] [[You were trying to save Charley [Merciful]|◎ Page 97-ESCAPED.28][$m2 to true]] [[It’s a dog-eat-dog world [Ruthless]|◎ Page 97-ESCAPED.28][$m3 to true]] <</if>>\

<<if $m1>>\ You grab onto your stomach and breathe in deeply and then breathe out until your stomach expands. It’s ok. You’ll be fine. You’re not going to throw up. <<set $Merciful = Math.clamp($Merciful + 0.2, 0, 100)>> You do burp though and there’s a taste of bile in it. You scratch your cheek. <<elseif $m2>>\ It’s not like you went up to a random person and shot them in the face. You were protecting someone who not only has protected you for years but who you need alive. That can’t be a sin. Can’t it? <<set $Merciful = Math.clamp($Merciful + 0.2, 0, 100)>> You’ll have to go to confession and ask. Priests can’t legally snitch anyway. You ruffle your hair. <<elseif $m3>>\ You shake your head. To be alive, to be a winner in this life, you have to do things like this. How much of a difference is there between ruining someone’s life, like you’ve done before to people who angered you, versus taking a life? Some would consider it nearly the same thing. <<set $Merciful = Math.clamp($Merciful - 0.2, 0, 100)>> You did what you had to and you shouldn’t and WON’T feel bad. You push your hair out of your face. <<else>>\ You probably won’t like to hear it. <</if>>\ You don’t have a change of clothes but you have to freshen up. So you… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Brush your teeth|◎ Page 98-ESCAPED.29][$tt to true]] [[Take a shower|◎ Page 98-ESCAPED.29]]

<<if $tt>>\ You should shower but you’re exhausted. It’s only Charley here after all and she’s seen you dirty many times. You don’t have a toothbrush, so you wet your finger, add some soap, and rub it along your teeth. It tastes gross and you spit it out. You end up sucking in handfuls of water, swishing it around your mouth and spitting it back into the sink. You ignore the flashes of the dead faces in your mind. You tug at your party clothes. Maybe it’s your posture but the clothes hang off on you in an unflattering way; they didn’t hours ago. The glitter around your eyes has smudged and run down your cheeks. Your jewelry somehow clashes with your skin tone in a way you didn’t think it did before. You lift up your armpit and it smells of sweat and hints of garlic. <<else>>\ <<if $respondd>>\ You have dried blood on you and you just feel icky for some reason. You turn the taps and strip off your clothes. The bathtub isn’t all that but it looks clean. You go under the stream of water from the shower head, making sure your arm is held up and away from it; you stand under it for a few minutes. Not moving a muscle. You feel your face growing warm. And you try so hard to not think of Marcey, of your guests, of the last look on their faces. You really try. <<else>>\ You have dried blood on you and you just feel icky for some reason. You turn the taps and strip off your clothes. The bathtub isn’t all that but it looks clean. You go under the stream of water from the shower head, making sure your arm is held up and away from it; you stand under it for a few minutes. Not moving a muscle. You feel your face growing warm. And you try so hard to not think of Marcey, of your guests, of the man you killed. You really try. <</if>>\ One of your hands hits the wall of the shower and a storm of emotions swirl in your chest. You find yourself bending, your forehead pressing against the wall as water runs down your back. Your hand covers your mouth and any tears that come out of your eyes are washed away in the water. You rub hard at the glitter around your eyes. You push aside the jewellery you didn’t bother to take off from around your neck and fingers. You step out of the bathtub and dry yourself down with a towel. You look at the crumpled sad mess of your clothes. They’re wet from the water pooling in a puddle around your feet. <</if>>\ You open the door of the bathroom and step on something softer than the carpet. You look down to see neatly folded clothes in front of the door. You pick them up and look at Charley, who’s arranged the bedding and is laying down on the floor in her makeshift bed. She’s still reading the Bible and doesn’t look away from it. You feel sort of pissed she isn’t scrambling up to beg for your, what? Forgiveness? She’s always been like this whenever you got angry and trashed whatever room you were in. She never got mad and didn’t bring it up. Why? She probably feels embarrassed. Yeah. It’s definitely that. You’re just so damn perceptive. You close the door and start stripping. The clothes aren’t anything remarkable and if you weren’t in the situation you were in, you would throw them out. It’s a baggy gray T-shirt and blue sweatpants. Probably her workout clothes. At least they smell like she washed them. <<if $cisf or $transf or $nbf>>\ They’re too big for you. You have to tie the shirt and pull tightly on the drawstrings. Yet, you still look like you’re drowning in the clothes. Ugh, how longer must you suffer such indignity? <<else>>\ AMAB It’s tight. The shirt squeezes your biceps and the sweatpants trap your balls. Eh, could be worse. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 99|◎ Page 99-ESCAPED.30]]

<<audio "dante" loop play>>\ You come back out and climb into bed, pulling the covers up to your chest and looking at the TV while saying, “Turn that on.” She doesn’t have to look to see what you’re talking about and goes up to the TV, moving the big button to turn it on. There’s a hissing sound before the screen shows the face of a talk show host you recognize. There’s a lot of static that rolls down the screen. Charley raises the sound. You catch the tail-end of the audience’s laughter. “Why is it doing that?” “Hm, static?” “Yeah.” “Mostly interference from other signals. Would you believe me if I told you that a small thing that impacts tv signals is the Big Bang?” You tilt your head. “Really?” “Yes. They call it Cosmic Microwave Background Radiation, which is the leftover light and heat—radiation—left over from billions of years ago,” she explains. “You know a lot of trivia,” you say. How much useless shit has she told you over the years? <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Useless but you like it|◎ Page 100-ESCAPED.31][$cc to true]] [[You’ve gotten used to it|◎ Page 100-ESCAPED.31]]

<<if $cc>>\ You’re still a bit too annoyed with her to admit that you love how she teaches you things without ever sounding like she looks down on you. She’s smart without feeling superior and you’ve never met a smart person like that. Case and point, yourself. <<else>>\ You kind of tune her out half the time. It's actually really easy and she doesn’t notice at all. Except for… you mentally count… maybe 10 times? But she knows when she gets like this it goes in one ear and comes out the other. <</if>>\ “I went to Oxford, $honorific. It’s useful to have the diploma on your resume but that’s not to say I’m not interested in learning about the world around me.” “Isn’t believing in science and the Big Bang kind of the opposite of believing in Gods?” “It’s never been a problem for me.” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Ask why she likes learning|◎ Page 101-ESCAPED.32][$cc2 to true]] [[Watch as she adjusts the antennas|◎ Page 101-ESCAPED.32]]

<<if $cc2>>\ “Like, even things you don’t need to know, you know so where does it come from?” you inquire. Your eyebrows furrow, you’ve never cared before. Charley also looks at you strangely. You’re probably just bored. Charley presses her lips together. She eyes you; she’s thinking but you can’t tell what’s going on in her very dark eyes. She throws her hair over her shoulder. “India isn’t the most forward-thinking place in the world. It’s just the one people always claim is one of the worst; I don’t agree but that’s another conversation. I was allowed opportunities that many women—even those in my own family—weren’t allowed. Cousins younger than me were married at 15 to men who were 10-15 years older than them. They were made to believe that was a good thing and even I didn’t question it because who questions what has been accepted your whole life so easily?” You lean your cheek against your closed fist and listen as she talks more passionately than you thought her capable of. She takes off her blazer and adjusts the antennas as she speaks. “My mother came from an upper-caste family and my father was British-Indian. They met while India was still under British rule. I was allowed more freedom because of who my father was. Not only was he wealthy, but he was a more progressive thinker than a lot of the men around him and since I have no siblings, all my parents’ hopes and dreams were placed on me.” She finally gets a strong signal. She sits back in her chair and adds, “That’s really all there is to it.” But when you’re about to ask who her father was, she interrupts. <<else>>\ It takes a few minutes, each time the image seems clearer, it immediately starts getting drowned out by static. Finally, after 10 minutes, she gets a better signal. <</if>>\ “What do you want to watch?” she asks. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[M*A*S*H|◎ Page 102-ESCAPED.33][$tv1 to true]] [[Johnny Carson|◎ Page 102-ESCAPED.33][$tv2 to true]] [[Little house on the prairie|◎ Page 102-ESCAPED.33][$tv3 to true]] [[The Dick Cavett show|◎ Page 102-ESCAPED.33][$tv4 to true]] [[The Flintstones|◎ Page 102-ESCAPED.33][$tv5 to true]] [[The Jetsons|◎ Page 102-ESCAPED.33][$tv6 to true]] [[An Indian movie|◎ Page 102-ESCAPED.33][$tv7 to true]] [[An oldie from the 30s|◎ Page 102-ESCAPED.33][$tv8 to true]]

<<if $tv1>>\ Obviously it’s thinly-veiled Vietnam, not Korea, but it’s funny and you appreciate a good comedy about serious stuff instead of trying to be dramatic about it. You had already heard enough about Vietnam from the unwashed masses. “They’re rerunning the one you missed yesterday,” Charley notes. “Far out.” <<elseif $tv2>>\ You don’t care much for celebrities but you do like the jokes Carson makes. Tonight’s episode has one of those famous Hollywood singers from your childhood. Your Ma is very into jazz. For being an old fuck, he’s still got it. //“Now, Jack Harlow, tell us, any special lady in your life?”// Johnny asks. Jack Harlow laughs politely. //“Johnny, you and everyone else knows the answer to that.”// <<elseif $tv3>>\ It’s kitsch, you get that, but one night you were very drunk and laying on the couch, unable to sleep and with a vomit bucket by your feet. Farm life disgusts you but it makes you want to milk a cow too, so… “Turn it up,” you tell Charley. <<elseif $tv4>>\ You like him more than the other hosts. He actually lets people talk and when they aren’t bleeding heart liberals or fat ugly conservatives, you do learn a thing or two. Also, Dick has a soothing voice. It puts you to sleep like a baby. Tonight it’s an older episode you’ve seen before. “Charley, who’s that actress again?” “Katherine Hepburn, $honorific.” <<elseif $tv5>>\ You watched it as a kid all the time. You went as one of the Flintstones each year for Halloween for like 6 years. Your Ma thought it was sinful but she couldn’t say no to how cute you looked. “Oh, I love this episode, it’s when Fred and Barney dress up as their wives for the bake-off,” you say. “Charley turn it up.” <<elseif $tv6>>\ The closest you ever got to liking robots is Rosie. You demanded your Pa to buy you a flying car for like a year and you didn’t and wouldn’t accept your Pa’s explanation that they didn’t exist. You still don’t, really. <<elseif $tv7>>\ “Is this //Sholay//?” you ask. Charley says, “Oh it is. We haven’t seen this one in a while.” “Radha, turn it up,” you tell her. Charley shakes her head at the nickname you periodically use for her. <<elseif $tv8>>\ “Is this //O, Your Heavenly Stars!”// you ask. “I think so, $honorific. I’m not that knowledgeable about 30s cinema,” Charley responds. “Shit, I haven’t seen this movie in forever. I had the hugest crush on the main actor. Did you know they were a bastard?” “Personality-wise or legally?” “Legally. Although apparently they were a diva, so who knows. Like two years ago there was a book about who their dad is cause their mom never said. You know, Radha, I don’t read books for fun but I sped through that crap in one night. Dramatic shit, I tell you.” The kiss scene starts playing and you lean forward. <</if>>\ Charley stands up and walks over to sit at the end of the bed. Giving you room to watch the television screen and her long straight black hair. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Focus on the screen|◎ Page 103-ESCAPED.34][$hote1 to true]] [[Focus on her [Gentle]|◎ Page 103-ESCAPED.34][$hote2 to true]] [[Try not to focus on her [Grudging]|◎ Page 103-ESCAPED.34][$hote3 to true]]

<<if $hote1>>\ You lean back and get comfortable. Watching TV is one of your favorite things. No brain power needed. Amazing. <<elseif $hote2>>\ Although you try to focus on the screen, you find your eyes, more often than not, drifting to her. Your gaze travels down her back, up her silky straight black hair, and you wish she could look at you now. <<set $Gentle += 1>> You see her face all the time but unlike with most people, you don’t get sick of looking at her. There’s just something so… pleasant about it. //Look at me, Charley//. You want to will that into existence. You want her to read your mind like she always seems to do. Your eyes keep flicking back and forth between the TV and her. And you see her slightly move her face so you can see one of her eyes. To almost look at her. You smile but pretend you don’t by cupping your mouth with your hand. <<elseif $hote3>>\ You have to clench your fists to not look at her. This always happens, for fuck’s sake. Every time you’re alone together and you can’t distract yourself from—whatever this is—by talking, you have to make a huge effort to not stare at her like a freak. <<set $Grudging += 1>> You don’t even know what’s your problem? She’s Charley. Just Charley. Nothing special at the end of the day. Sure she’s pretty, you’ve always thought so. She makes you feel safe and she knows you better than most people. You like the way clothes fit her. But big whoop! You start getting annoyed, as you usually do when you start thinking too much about her, and you scowl at the people on the TV. <</if>>\ A few hours pass like that. It’s early into the hours of January 2nd when you start yawning. Charley stands up and walks over to the TV. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“Don’t.”|◎ Page 104-ESCAPED.35][$tvon to true]] [[You let her|◎ Page 104-ESCAPED.35]]

<<audio "dante" fadeout>>\ <<if $tvon>>\ “The noise will help me sleep,” you explain. “Ok, I’ll just turn it down a bit,” she says. <<else>>\ You yawn loudly. <</if>>\ She lays back down on the floor and you lay down in the bed. You roll to your side and wrap the blanket over you until it touches your chin. The mattress isn’t that comfortable. But you are still able to sleep. The floor must be worse. In the silence that feels so heavy, you want to speak. To not allow your mind to think about unpleasant thoughts. Apparently, it’s crazy to think you can avoid them. You think about bothering Charley, rattling on about some random piece of pop culture information until you fall asleep but she beats you to it. <<if $respondd>>\ “This feels bad right now. It’ll hurt less in the morning,” she says. “Speaking from experience?” You can’t see her and her voice doesn’t sound like someone who’s trying to delude you into something that isn’t anyhing more than a lie. Of course, Charley could be ecstatic and her face would be as blank as a piece of a paper. “I know that must’ve not been easy for you, to see your friends like that. But I know that time, for better or for worse, heals,” she claims. <<else>>\ “Thank you,” she says. “For what?” You can’t see her and her voice doesn’t sound like someone who’s grateful. Of course, Charley could be ecstatic and her face would be as blank as a piece of a paper. “You saved my life. I know that must’ve not been easy for you,” she claims. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 105|◎ Page 105-ESCAPED.36]]

<<if $respondd>>\ You scoff, you don’t even know what she’s talking about. “I’m not whiny baby who needs a mommy to hug me so the nightmares will go away.” “I never said you were.” “What about—I mean...” you try to phrase it with tact but you end up blurting it out, “You likely killed a few people while I was out cold. Are you gonna wake me with your nightmares?” “No.” You get so damn curious, sometimes. “What is it like to kill someone?” “It’s not something I think or feel much about, anymore.” Unsatisfied with that answer, you’re about to push her so you don’t have to talk, when she interjects, “Why are you asking me this?” “Do you think I might have to do it, one day?” She doesn’t reply right away. The air feels thick and you mush your hair. “I hope it never comes to that.” You snort. “Don’t tell me you’re a pacifist.” “I used to believe when I was younger, that violence was the only thing that could change the world. I don’t feel guilty about most of the violence I’ve done.” “Yikes,” you reply, because what the fuck could you say to that? She can apparently sleep like a rock while your dreams are haunted by faces you don’t want to see. Like Andrea. Fuck, maybe Marcela will start making an appearance too. [[◎ Page 106|◎ Page 106-ESCAPED.37]] <<else>>\ You scoff, you don’t even know what she’s talking about. “If you can do it, why can’t I?” “Because I remember the first person I ever killed. It’s not something that all these years and all the other people I’ve killed have erased.” You hear her shift on her bed-not-bed. “And who was that?” you ask so you don’t have to get into the mushy crap about your own feelings with her. “Someone who wasn’t innocent. She had hurt people. She would’ve killed me if I hadn’t shot her first. It was the most justifiable murder there is and yet I never forgot the look on her face before I pulled the trigger. I believed back then that violence was the only thing that could change the world. I don’t feel guilty, it was her or me. But I remember her face so clearly,” she responds. “Yikes,” you reply, because what the fuck could you say to that? You don’t even know if this guy’s death will haunt your dreams. Like Andrea. Fuck, maybe Marcela will start making an appearance too. “How do you feel?” she asks. You roll your eyes. This is not a conversation you want to have with your employee. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“Fine.”|◎ Page 106-ESCAPED.37][$rea1 to true]] [[“Fucked, but what else is new?”|◎ Page 106-ESCAPED.37][$rea2 to true]] [[“Fucking fantastic.”|◎ Page 106-ESCAPED.37][$rea3 to true]] [[“It was him or us, so…”|◎ Page 106-ESCAPED.37][$rea4 to true]] [[“Don’t know. Don’t care.”|◎ Page 106-ESCAPED.37][$rea5 to true]] [[You groan into your pillow|◎ Page 106-ESCAPED.37][$rea6 to true]] <</if>>\

<<if $respondd>>\ But hey, let her talk about herself; not knowing why your mind lands on this question, you ask, “What you said about violence… do you still believe that?” <<else>>\ <<if $rea1>>\ “Just real peachy keen.” “If you don’t feel—” “Charley,” you warn. Your eyes are hard as you stare at her. She nods. <<elseif $rea2>>\ “Turns out I can get used to shit fairly quickly.” “Your endurance is admirable,” Charley comments. You huff. <<elseif $rea3>>\ “Never been better,” you smile widely. Charley eyes slightly widen but she doesn’t contradict you. <<elseif $rea4>>\ “I wasn’t even thinking, I just acted.” “It’s easier to have your first kill be an impulsive choice instead of a calculated move,” she says. You raise an eyebrow. “It’s easier on the soul,” she responds. <<elseif $rea5>>\ “I don’t want to nor have time to talk about ‘feelings,’” you shutter. “If that’s what you want,” she replies. “Yep.” <<elseif $rea6>>\ That’s all the response you’re giving and Charley doesn’t push it. <</if>>\ You really want to move this topic away from you; not knowing why your mind lands on this question, you ask, “You said something about violence… do you still believe that?” <</if>>\ “I don’t think it’s the only thing that can change the world. But I do think it’s the quickest and the most effective and that’s not what people like to admit or hear. I wish words were enough to stop wars, genocide and every other horrible things man does to man,” she sighs. “Tell a robber to stop robbing you and they do?” you ask rhetorically with a smirk. “Yes,” she answers sincerely. “If only it were that simple. What about you?” The only time violence touched your life before tonight, it didn’t end well. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“I think violence will always be necessary to change the world.” [Ruthless]|◎ Page 107-ESCAPED.38][$vio1 to true]] [[“No, there are other ways that could work better.” [Merciful]|◎ Page 107-ESCAPED.38][$vio2 to true]] [[“I don’t know. Never given it much thought.”|◎ Page 107-ESCAPED.38][$vio3 to true]]

<<if $vio1>>\ You cradle your cheek with the palm of your hand. “Think about it, the world has changed vastly each time there’s a war, right? You told me that. The American Independence war, the Civil war, the World Wars, Vietnam. A lot of people have died but the world has changed with good and bad things born from it.” <<set $Merciful = Math.clamp($Merciful - 0.2, 0, 100)>> She nods. “You rarely get change in life that’s only good.” <<elseif $vio2>>\ “People jump to guns and knives and bombs quicker than they should. Look, I’m not a tree-hugging, body-odor-carrying, tangled hair, ugly dressed, mentally deficient hippie, but I do think the only reason people think violence is the only answer is because humans hardly ever try anything else. Maybe it’s in our DNA. There can’t be world peace, that’s an idealistic dream that freedom of choice doesn’t allow, but it doesn’t always have to be like //this//,” you say with shortness of breath. <<set $Merciful = Math.clamp($Merciful + 0.2, 0, 100)>> “You’ve given this a lot of thought,” Charley posits. You roll your eyes. “I’m not an idiot just because I don’t read the news.” <<elseif $vio3>>\ You shrug. “None of this has ever really affected me, and it might not be popular to say, but most people think it: nothing really matters unless it affects me. Other than that, it’s like it’s a movie, a TV show happening somewhere else to someone else. It doesn’t feel like real life.” Charley considers that and replies, “I can see what you mean. Even I find it difficult to care equally about every single topic.” <</if>>\ You both go quiet and you think several minutes tick by before Charley says, “Goodnight.” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Ask if she has any cigarettes|◎ Smoke break]] [[You think of sharing the bed [Gentle]|◎ Page 108-ESCAPED.39][$cc3 to true]] [[She’s not sharing the bed with you [Grudging]|◎ Page 108-ESCAPED.39][$cc31 to true]] [[“Goodnight, Radha.”|◎ Page 108-ESCAPED.39][$n1 to true]] [[You close your eyes|◎ Page 108-ESCAPED.39][$n2 to true]]

<<if $cc3>>\ You think of how it would feel to have Charley sleeping next to you. Almost touching. How during the night you’d end up brushing arms and legs. How it would feel like to wake up and find one of you cuddled against the other. <<set $Gentle += 1>> Do you want to know how it feels? ''No.'' ''...Yes.'' <<elseif $cc31>>\ That thought comes barreling into your mind for no reason. You weren’t even thinking of that. But it’s good to remind yourself of boundaries. With Charley, year after year you find yourself slipping, and that’s just not acceptable. Her breathing, quiet, sounds so loud to you. It makes your heart pick up speed <<set $Grudging += 1>> All very ==pleasant== unpleasant. <<elseif $n1>>\ You laugh and although she doesn’t make a sound, you know she’s smiling. <<elseif $n2>>\ Maybe you’ll wake up and this will all have been a dream? <</if>>\ But after trying to count sheep and whatever other tactic you know to sleep, you find your eyes are wide open and you roll onto your back. You look up at the ceiling, every once in a while car headlights slip through the tiny sliver between the curtains and move around the white, smooth surface you’re staring at. Sam said you walked around life thinking you were the best—or at least something that sounded like that. Call it selective memory, but given everything that happened tonight, it’s not like you remember the exact words. As //annoying// as it is to admit $samP.name is right about anything, $samP.subj is right about that. But so what? Isn’t it true? Why not walk around like the world should recognize it? After what you suffered, doesn’t the world owe you that? After what you lost? Is it so wrong to be loved, to be good-looking, to be rich and know it? Why must people insist that modesty and humbleness is a marker of a good person? You feel your eyes prickle and you sit up, laying back against the headboard, pulling your knees to your chest and laying your chin on top of them. <<if $lazloIncest>>\ Andrea was good and look what happened to him. Goodness, what is it worth? Your Ma is good and she lost her first child. Lazlo is good, the best, and he’s an orphan who probably has crackheads for parents. Your Pa is good, he’s good to you and his wife and his two other children, and look what people want to do to him? Is suffering the ruler by which you measure how good you are? How is that fair? How is that RIGHT? <<else>>\ Andrea was good and look what happened to him? Goodness, what is it worth? Your Ma is good and she lost her first child. Lazlo is apparently good and he’s an orphan who probably has crackheads for parents. Your Pa is good, he’s good to you and his wife and his two other children and look what people want to do to him? Is suffering the ruler by which you measure how good you are? How is that fair? How is that RIGHT? <</if>>\ God, you’re getting philosophical and you specifically hate bums who talk shit all day thinking they said the most profound things ever. You sound deeper after a night of partying. Anyway, Sam can talk a lot of crap but $samP.subj was all over you from the moment $samP.subj met you. [[◎ Page 109|◎ Page 109-ESCAPED.40]]

<h2>//__''1971''__//</h2>\ <<audio "loss" loop play>>\ The door creaked so loud it interrupted the Professor mid-way through her lecture. You smiled at her, “Sorry, traffic.” Tens of eyes followed you as you walked deeper into the room for a place to sit. The Professor resumed what she was saying as you moved along the rows. An introductory elective course obviously was gonna be packed the first day. You could’ve probably asked someone to give you their seat or, if push came to shove, literally shoved someone off their spot. You stopped and looked around for a target. There was a fat fuck that looked weak enough to bully and like he wouldn’t fight back. But his seat was probably warm from his thick ass and sweat. There was a cute student who met your eyes. $samP.subjCap smiled and looked down at $samP.possAdj notepad, writing down what the Professor was saying. And look at that, there was a spot right next to $samP.obj, with a bag in it, probably $samP.possPro. Hmmm, bingo. You walked into the row and whispered a quick, “Hey.” “Hey,” $samP.subj whispered back. You gestured to the seat, “Is this taken?” [[◎ Page 110|◎ Page 110-ESCAPED.41]]

<<if $sam is "masc">>\ “Only by you, gorgeous,” he replied smoothly. You almost snorted. You smiled instead and waited for him to move his bag out of the way before sitting down. You took out your books and then looked at him to find he was already looking at you. <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ You asked, “Do you usually let gorgeous girls take a seat next to you, using that same line?” <<elseif $nbf>>\ You asked, “Do you usually let gorgeous people take a seat next to you, using that same line?” <</if>>\ He smirked and leaned in closer, “They have to look like you for me to even consider it.” You looked down and pretended to be flustered by the attention like a young virgin. “You don’t look like the shy type,” he whispered. You shrugged and averted your eyes from his intense ones, “Mama and Papa raised a good Catholic girl.” He leaned his knee so it was touching yours, and you acted the surprised prey and moved your leg away. “I don’t know, I think there’s some bad in you.” You bit your lip and looked at the front of the classroom, where the Professor was talking about some old dead guy. “I think you want to push out some badness in me,” you responded. “I do. I think you’d look very sexy doing something you shouldn’t,” he said in a voice you thought he thought was seductive. <<elseif $sam is "fem">>\ “No,” she said shyly and removed her bag. You plopped down next to her, offering her a thanks and started getting your books out. She watched you from the corner of her eye, and each time you looked at her, she pretended to be writing notes. You smirked, you could see from here that she wasn’t writing anything right then. It was good to get a chick flustered early in the morning. Did wonders for your complex. You were really fucking late. You weren’t even gonna come but Charley made you. You’d need to ask for this girl’s notes. So, you turned on the charm and leaned closer, whispering, “I’m Luce, what’s your name, beautiful?” She flushed at what you said. You snorted internally, either she was playing it up or she really wasn’t used to people flirting with her. Either way, it was easy prey. “I’m Samantha,” she responded quietly. “Sam, that’s a cute name for a cute girl,” you replied quickly. Her lips quivered and she smiled down at her notebook. “Luce sounds very unique.” “What can I say? I’m the light of my parents’ life. Nothing could say favourite child than that.” She actually giggled. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 111|◎ Page 111-ESCAPED.42]]

<<if $sam is "masc">>\ You were about to tell him you weren’t interested, that you’d had better attempts at flirting than that pathetic excuse, but you noticed the amount of notes he already had. You were pretty fucking late to class and it was almost over. Charley made you come for the last 10 minutes. Looked like you needed this boy. If you played your cards right, you could’ve gotten the idiot to write all your notes for the rest of the semester and you wouldn’t have even had to show up to this early as shit class. So, you leaned back in your seat and smiled softly at him, trying to look as innocent as you could. Begging for a knight in shining armor. “I’m Luce by the way.” He held out his hand, “Never heard of that name before. Samuel Flight.” What kind of name was that? You took his hand and rubbed your thumb along his own. “It’s because I’m unlike any girl you’ll ever meet. Nice to meet you, Sam.” He cocked an eyebrow, “You aren’t going to give me a last name?” You gave him a crooked smile, “You’ll have to earn that.” “How?” “By calling me and being a gentleman.” “If the lady gives me her number, I can show her how gentlemanly I can be,” he said slyly. You maintained eye contact as you grabbed his notebook and wrote your number down. “Now,” you said and handed him his notebook. The teacher announced that class was over and everyone started packing up their things. You stood up and shoved your things into your bag. Sam watched and waited. You zipped up your bag and said, “Hand write a copy of today’s notes and that’ll be a good step into showing me how much of a gentleman you can be. In return, I’ll show you how much of a bad girl I can be.” He grinned up at you and you threw him a flirtatious smirk and walked off. Knowing he’d call. <<elseif $sam is "fem">>\ Class was over pretty soon after that and you spent it showering her with simple compliments that could only get a virgin—which she likely was—flustered. When you were packing your things up, you kept talking, following her out of the room and into the hall. You noted she slowed down to wait for you to zip up your bag. “So, Sam, what are you doing right now?” you asked, walking alongside her, down the stairs. She held her books tight to her chest as she replied, “I have another class.” You pushed open the door for her and followed her out into the bright Monday morning. “Bummer,” you said, “I was hoping I could talk to you longer.” Sam smiled and looked down at her feet. You reached out and slipped your finger underneath her chin, bringing her face up to meet your eyes. Her skin went scarlet. “Can I have your number?” you asked. Her throat bobbed and her mouth opened like she wanted to reply but no words came out, so she just nodded. You leaned back and looked expectantly at her. “Oh, right,” she said and opened her notebook to write it down on a blank page. She handed it to you and you looked at her, pretending to be interested in those numbers. “Groovy,” you said and started backing away, “I’ll call you!” “Ok!” she said a bit too loud. “If you could give me your notes when we meet up, that’d be groovy too! Maybe copy them by hand, if you could for me?” She nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine! I’ll do that!” You grinned at her flirtatiously before turning away and throwing a wave back. There, now you had a bonafide idiot who would pass you her notes and you didn’t even have to fuck her. <</if>>\ You want to spend more time in simpler days. When you knew whatever changes came were always going to be in your benefit. [[◎ Page 112|◎ Page 112-ESCAPED.43]]

<h2>//__''Still 1971''__//</h2>\ This girl—Marissa?—was babbling on about the “sights.” She moved to this city to see the sights… or was it something about her degree? What was it again? You had trouble paying attention because of her shoes. Penny loafers. You hated stuffy English clothing on a good day, you couldn’t stand it in your home. “…to see it in deep summer. It would be gorgeous. There's also the church next to it which I have been researching a lot about,” she took out a brochure from her old, and clearly cheap, bag to show you. You took it without opening, laying it on your lap. Mar… the girl’s smile slightly tightened when she saw that. You smiled, there’s something. “Anyway… you’ve lived here longer than I have, I think it would be groovy if we could go together,” she claims. “What’s your name?” you asked. “Marcela,” she replied. “Marcela Fuentes.” [[◎ Page 113|◎ Page 113-ESCAPED.44]]

“Is that Mexican?” you asked, reaching out to take a sip of your drink. Her mouth slightly twisted. “No, I’m from Nicaragua.” You leaned back into your couch, “I don’t know where the fuck that is. Is it real?” “Yes.” “I don’t want the cartel here.” She finally dropped that annoyingly fake smile. She tightened her hold on her purse. You noticed that her nails were painted hot pink. “Don’t you think that’s a bit racist?” You shrugged, “Don’t tell me you’re a bleeding heart? I can’t live with someone who can’t take a joke.” “That was a joke?” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Try to be nice [Grounded]|◎ Page 114-ESCAPED.45][$mar1 to true]] [[Be an ass [Spoiled]|◎ Page 114-ESCAPED.45][$mar2 to true]] [[Change the conversation [Grounded]|◎ Page 114-ESCAPED.45][$mar3 to true]] [[Change the conversation [Spoiled]|◎ Page 114-ESCAPED.45][$mar4 to true]]

<<if $mar1>>\ Your first instinct was to insult her ugly shoes. Tell her that by the way she handled herself, that she was clearly a poor fuck and needed you more than you needed her… but you bit your tongue. You’d never get a roommate if you made all the potential roommates cry. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded + 0.2, 0, 100)>> You pressed your teeth together and smiled. “An attempt at one. I haven’t had my second cup of coffee, I’m a bit out of sorts.” That was the closest thing she was getting to an apology. She looked at you strangely but didn’t make any attempt to press you on it so you moved on. She even tried to smile at you. <<elseif $mar2>>\ “Yes, have you never fucking heard of one? Or is your English so shitty that you can’t understand the concept?” you asked cruelly. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded - 0.2, 0, 100)>> Marcela’s eyebrows shot up. “No. I understood it was, I was just giving you space to maybe take it back?” “Why would I take it back? You don’t even know me,” you snapped. “You’re right,” she replied quickly. You rolled your eyes and looked back at your questionnaire. <<elseif $mar3>>\ You cleared your throat and looked around, “Uh, do you listen to a lot of music? I’m asking because I see that pin and I’m wondering if it’s just something random you put on your coat or if you like //The Who//?” <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded + 0.2, 0, 100)>> Marcela looked down at the pin and smiled, “I LOVE them. California rock is so cool. I’ve always wanted to be one of those groupies that follow a band around.” “Groovy. I was into the //Grateful Dead// but I’m not a hippie. California rock… like the //The Mamas and Papas//?” “YES!” she exclaimed, “Mama Cass is my idol.” She grins at you and you pat yourself on the back. <<elseif $mar4>>\ “You smell like pot. Are you a hippie? Because if you are I have to say I fucking hate those fuckers and the last thing I want in my apartment are fleas,” you claimed. Marcela’s eyebrows came together as she said, “I never met someone my age who hated hippies.” “Yeah cause everyone is an idiot but I already deal with Vietnam protestors on university property, I don’t need more of you,” you said. “I’m not a hippie.” “Good.” <</if>>\ “Next question then, what do you bring to the table? I’m not trying to be an asshole but from the looks of you, I don’t see much,” you said with a tilt to your head and a critical eye that swept along her clothes. Her set jaw twitched as her lips curled before she reached over to take a sip of her water. “You’re really honest. Almost brutal.” “I don’t like beating around the bush. I think everyone is playing a little game of tea party, pretending to be good friendly people when all they really want to do is tear into each other,” you replied. She raised an eyebrow, “You really think everyone is mean deep down?” You tilted your head and smirked, “Yeah.” [[◎ Page 115|◎ Page 115-ESCAPED.46]]

She leaned forward in her chair, her water balanced on her knee. “You’ve never met anyone who you thought was mean on the outside but kind on the inside.” Without thinking you replied, “My brother.” You cursed yourself as the word you hadn’t wanted to say floated in the air between you two. You hoped she wouldn’t ask more. She had no right to anyway, she was the one being interviewed. “You have a brother?” she asked, suddenly interested. You shrugged, “Kind of.” “What do you mean by that?” You rolled your tongue along your inner cheek, looking at the window. It was a bright blue day. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Tell her the truth|◎ Page 116-ESCAPED.47][$truthm to true]] [[Deflect|◎ Page 116-ESCAPED.47]]

<<if $truthm>>\ You bit your lower lip and rubbed the back of your neck. You then got up and walked over to the window, opening the latch and letting some air in. You heard the sounds of the city and crossed your arms. “He died when I was 10,” you said. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said and you usually hated that. ‘I’m sorryyyyy’ as if it changed anything. They were just empty words. But you didn’t turn around and attack her. There was something about the way she said it that made you feel it wasn’t a simple gesture. “Jesus,” you sighed. Some people could be so earnest. “If you don’t mind, can you tell me his name?” she asked gently. “Andrea,” you replied in a neutral tone. “That’s a lovely name. Were you two close?” You nodded. “Never been closer to anyone like that.” You looked over your shoulder at her, she sat there with the cup of water in her hand and her eyes looked glassy. Her mouth is twisted in odd ways. “Why are you crying?” you asked in a tone that belied disgust and shock. She took a sip of her water. She cleared her throat and said quietly, “It’s just very sad. No one should lose a sibling.” “No, they shouldn’t,” you replied and sat back down. <<else>>\ “Do you have any siblings?” you asked, not really caring for an answer. “Two older brothers, they’re both in Nicaragua,” she said. “Are you guys close?” “Kind of. They’re a bit older than me. I was a surprise baby but a welcome one,” she said with a chuckle. “I wasn’t a surprise. None of my siblings were either. My parents all really wanted us,” you commented. “It’s so rare to actually hear about parents who want to have kids and plan them. All I ever hear from parents and friends is that it’s all a big accident,” she said. “So many people don’t want kids.” “It’s just what you’re supposed to do, right?” “Yeah.” <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 117|◎ Page 117-ESCAPED.48]]

You sighed and slapped your hands against your thighs, getting up. Marcela got up too, slinging her purse over her shoulder. You opened your mouth to speak but she beat you to it, “I’m sorry if I wasn’t the best interviewee. I have jetlag and I’m really desperate to find a place to live—” “Marcel—” “—because if you don't accept me I have to go live with this weird old man who smells like earwax and kept staring at my breasts while he showed me around. There’s a suspicious hole in the wall and I think he’s going to peek at me—” You snorted, “Marcela you got—” She clasped her hands, “Please Luce, I’ll cook, I’ll clean, I’ll even wash your feet if you want me to.” You sighed, “Marcel—wait you’d do that?” She nodded her head, “If that’s what it takes.” Your eyebrows furrowed. You took a step back and looked her up and down. You were thinking of accepting her anyway but if you could get a few things out of it by exploiting her desperation, why not? You didn’t play fair. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“Ok, you can live here but you’re getting a new wardrobe.”|◎ Page 118-ESCAPED.49][$op1 to true]] [[“Ok, you can live here and I get foot massages four times a week.”|◎ Page 118-ESCAPED.49][$op2 to true]] [[“Ok, you can live here and I don’t want a speck of dirt in this house.”|◎ Page 118-ESCAPED.49]]

<<if $op1>>\ She smiled widely and replied, “Of course! Anything you want. I’ll need money but second-hand stores—” “You aren’t living with me wearing things hobos wore on the street. I’ll pay for it.” She gave you a look like you were freaking Mother Theresa. Which got you in a good mood so when she extended her hand you took it and shook it. “Ok, you can fuck off now. I’ll call you later to arrange when you can move in,” you said and she nodded. <<elseif $op2>>\ She smiled widely and replied, “Of course! Anything you want. I’ve never done a massage before but I think I can learn pretty quickly—” “You really are desperate, aren’t you?” “Yes!” she replied unashamedly. “Jesus, don’t be so honest.” You gestured to the front door, “You can fuck off now. I’ll call you later to arrange when you can move in.” She nodded. <<else>>\ She smiled widely and replied, “Of course! Anything you want. I can cook and clean and do the laundry—” “Don’t touch my underwear you freak.” “I wasn’t going to do anything with it,” she swore. “Uh huh.” You gestured to the front door, “You can fuck off now. I’ll call you later to arrange when you can move in.” She nodded. <</if>>\ She went to the door. You didn’t follow her out but you did take a few steps to see her better. She opened the door and looked back at you with a kind smile. It made you feel uncomfortable. You managed to offer her something that looked halfway between a grimace and a grin. “I think we’ll be great friends, Luce,” she said. “Sure,” you said. She nodded and left, closing the door behind her with a soft click. You threw yourself on the couch and crossed your arms under your head. “As if,” you whispered. You probably wouldn’t last a week with her. She knew too much from a single conversation. She was annoying. Curious. Dangerous. You’d find an excuse; she snored too loudly, her feet smelled or you couldn’t stand her music. You’d probably forget about her in less than a week. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ <<if $smoker>>\ You’re sitting up, your back pressed against the headboard, you got another cigarette and let it rest in your mouth, puffing slowly in the dark. You don’t feel tired as you think of someone unconnected to these thoughts. Ma, whose hugs always felt like bathing in honey on a warm day. Who would always know what to say. If you can’t have her here, you can think about her and all the times you didn’t listen. <<else>>\ As your eyelids start feeling heavy, you think of someone not connected to these thoughts. Ma, whose hugs always felt like bathing in honey on a warm day. Who would always know what to say. If you can’t have her here, you can think about her and all the times you didn’t listen. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 119|◎ Page 119-ESCAPED.50]]

<h2>//__''1970''__//</h2>\ <<audio "loss" fadeout>>\ You flicked the glass champagne flute with your fingers. It dinged like it had many times before in the last 15 minutes. You sighed and leaned back in your chair. “Time won’t go by faster the more you do that, you know?” your Ma asked. You looked at her and sighed even louder. She tsked and took a sip of her water. She adjusted her bib and lightly touched the diamond ring on her finger. “We’ve been waiting 40 minutes, Ma,” you complained. “Isn't this supposed to be a high class joint? They should treat their customers like they’re a priority. Or at least me—” your mother gave you a knowing look, “—US! Like we’re the priority. I don’t give a shit about all the old cats here. They don’t need food that badly, they’re one sneeze to the face away from dying.” “Luce!” your mother whispered furiously. “Enough. People can hear you.” You raised an eyebrow, “So?” Your Ma looked down and rubbed her forehead. She clasped her hands together on the table and said slowly, as if she were talking to <<cycle '$stupid' autoselect>><<option 'slow'>><<option 'retarded'>><</cycle>> person. “Luce, isn’t it impolite to say such things in public?” “In private?” “No,” she said sternly. “No one should be cruel. I've always tried to teach you to be respectful of the people around you. To be nice. Why can’t you be kinder?” You shrugged. “Why should I be if I don’t feel like it? Why should I lie?” She shook her head. You leaned forward and mimicked her posture. “Isn’t lying a sin, Ma? Doesn’t the bible say something about that?” She tilted her head and gave you a ‘really, Luce?’ Look. You smiled. “The Bible also says to love one another as we are all children of God,” she responded. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“Not my fault everyone makes it so hard.”|◎ Page 120-ESCAPED.51][$mat1 to true]] [[“What a load of crap.”|◎ Page 120-ESCAPED.51][$mat2 to true]] [[“And I definitely do that.”|◎ Page 120-ESCAPED.51][$mat3 to true]] [[You grunt|◎ Page 120-ESCAPED.51][$mat4 to true]]

<<if $mat1>>\ “If everyone wasn’t such an idiot, a square or oblivious, then maybe I would find it easier to love my fellow man.” <<elseif $mat2>>\ You scoffed and then covered it up with a cough at the look of shock on your Ma’s face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be blasphemous.” <<elseif $mat3>>\ At her skeptical look, you plastered a grin on your face. “Honest, Ma.” <<elseif $mat4>>\ You’d had this fight so many times. <</if>>\ Before your Ma could begin her big sermon on loving thy neighbor, the waiter finally came with your orders. Your Ma got a medium rare steak slathered with onions. You got… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[The same without the onions|◎ Page 121-ESCAPED.52][$cho1 to true]] [[A foie gras|◎ Page 121-ESCAPED.52][$cho2 to true]] [[Wild mushroom risotto|◎ Page 121-ESCAPED.52][$cho3 to true]] [[Seared scallops|◎ Page 121-ESCAPED.52][$cho4 to true]]

<<if $cho1>>\ You didn’t like the texture of onions. They mostly felt slimy. <<elseif $cho2>>\ You actually hate liver but you’re forcing yourself to like it. <<elseif $cho3>>\ You’re trying out Vegetarianism. Not for the animals. For your waist. <<elseif $cho4>>\ You read this self-help book and decided to try out Pescatarianism. You’re already your best self but you can never get compliant. <</if>>\ The waiter set your plate down in front of you and you picked up your fork. It took less than a second to zero in on the problem. You dropped your fork on your plate loudly. <<if $cism or $transf or $nbm>>\ Your Ma looked up from her food. The waiter—a man probably as old as your Ma—clasped his hands behind him and said, “Is there something wrong Sir?” <<else>>\ Your Ma looked up from her food. The waiter—a man probably as old as your Ma—clasped his hands behind him and said, “Is there something wrong Miss?” <</if>>\ You gestured rudely to your plate, “Are you fucking blind? This shit is undercooked.” <<if $cism or $transf or $nbm>>\ The waiter looked at your plate. “No, Mister, this meal is cooked exactly as it should be, I assure you.” <<else>>\ The waiter looked at your plate. “No, Miss, this meal is cooked exactly as it should be, I assure you.” <</if>>\ You scoffed and looked at your Ma incredulously, “Do you hear this fucking idiot, Ma?” “Luce,” your Ma chastised and threw an apologetic look at the waiter, “I’m sorry for my $luce.childTerm’s behavior, Jean-Luc. Are you sure the meal is cooked correctly?” “Yes, Ma’am I have served it many times.” “If you’ve been serving undercooked gruel to the brainless masses then this place should lose a star and you should lose your job,” you sneered. “What kind of loser works as a waiter at your age anyway?” “Luce!” your Ma hissed. The other patrons peered at your table, their mouths moving and their eyes full of judgment. You ignored your Ma and shoved the plate to the waiter. “Do it again. I don’t care who the fuck you have to talk to, get me what I asked for. You have no idea who my father is.” The waiter—you didn’t bother to remember what your Ma called him—took the plate with a nod and without a word as he departed. [[◎ Page 122|◎ Page 122-ESCAPED.53]]

You sighed, “You can’t ever find good help these days. They hire any old riffraff off the streets.” You clasped your hands across your stomach and looked at your Ma. She held the fork tightly in her hand and gave you an expression filled with utter disbelief. “What?” you asked. “It wasn’t my fault.” “That meal was fine. You just got it into your head that you know better. Even if you were wrong you could have asked politely,” she explained. “Why? When someone fucks up you shouldn’t have to treat them with kiddie gloves, Ma. Everyone is so damn sensitive,” you argued. Your Ma took a sip of her wine before she replied, slower and softly, “Luce, you are my $luce.childTerm and I love you. There are things I adore about your personality. You're headstrong, outspoken, fun, and determined.” You grinned, a feeling of pleasure bloomed in your chest. You loved being praised. She was right, you were amazing. “But, sometimes I wish you could try to put yourselves in someone else’s shoes. The world isn’t made up of conquerors and conquered. You don’t have to treat every interaction as if someone was trying to attack you first,” she said, reaching over, her palm up. You leaned forward and took her hand. “Why do you always have to be on the defensive? What is there in your life that makes you feel like you’ll be attacked at any moment? Haven’t your Pa and I made sure you felt safe? That you have a normal life?” she asked, her voice wavering. You squeezed her hand and looked intently at it, you didn’t want to see her cry. It made you feel sick and when you felt like that you said things without thinking. “I do have a normal life. Of course I’m safe, Ma,” you replied. You heard her sniff, “Then why do you act like this?” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“I don’t know.” [Spoiled]|◎ Page 123-ESCAPED.54][$con1 to true]] [[“I don’t want to be like this.” [Grounded]|◎ Page 123-ESCAPED.54][$con2 to true]] [[“Life is unexpected.” [Spoiled]|◎ Page 123-ESCAPED.54][$con3 to true]] [[You can’t respond [Grounded]|◎ Page 123-ESCAPED.54][$con4 to true]]

<<if $con1>>\ “Maybe I’m just a major asshole,” you stated. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded - 0.2, 0, 100)>> “I don’t think that’s true.” <<elseif $con2>>\ “Then why don’t you stop?” <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded + 0.2, 0, 100)>> You shrugged. “Never thought about it.” <<elseif $con3>>\ “I always expect the unexpected to be bad so I react accordingly,” you replied. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded - 0.2, 0, 100)>> “That’s not a happy way to live.” <<elseif $con4>>\ You look at your reflection in the wine glass. <<set $Grounded = Math.clamp($Grounded + 0.2, 0, 100)>>\ <</if>>\ She raised your hand to her lips and kissed it softly. She then laid her cheek against it. She stared at you with eyes so full of motherly love that it made you squirm. You looked around at the patrons who were back to their conversations like before. New York types. There was always something new that caught their interest. They were vapid, materialistic and fickle people. You couldn’t stand them. You were not as insufferable, of course. “Luce?” your Ma pulled you away from your thoughts. “Hm?” “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to change who you are. This is just advice. You’re my baby, and whether you like it or not I will always be here to guide you,” she said. You smiled softly, “Yeah, unfortunately. I’ll be 90 at the nursing home and you’ll still be talking my ear off about love and forgiveness and yadda, yadda, yadda.” She laughed. Her laugh was just like yours. “I will and my newest advice is to treat waitstaff and servants in general with kindness.” “But what—” “What will that do for you? It could help you one day. Save your life. Or at the very least prevent a waiter from spitting in your food,” she said and let go of your hand. The older waiter was coming back with your food. “I don’t think so Ma. They’re nobodies.” Your Ma shook her head but you didn’t see it. So focused were you on your plate. [[◎ Page 124|◎ Page 124-ESCAPED.55]]

The sound of running water wakes you up and a sliver of sunlight makes you close your eyes. You groan and throw an arm over your face. “When did it become morning?” “Several hours ago. It’s 10:32 am,” Charley informs you. “Here, I bought some breakfast and a toothbrush for you.” You move your face up and peer at the items she’s laying on the bed. “Why didn’t you wake me up to go out?” “You’re more recognizable than me,” she replies. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You accept that|◎ Page 125-ESCAPED.56][$sus1 to true]] [[You question her|◎ Page 125-ESCAPED.56][$sus2 to true]]

<<if $sus1>>\ You smirk at that. You are important, aren’t you? Sure, it’s because some gangsters wanna kill you but eh, all publicity is good publicity, right? “You know best,” you tell Charley, although you both know it’s //you// who knows best. “Thank you, $honorific,” she replies succinctly. <<elseif $sus2>>\ You scoff, “Be that as it may, you hang around me all the time, like a little leech. People would recognize you almost as much as me.” “My job is to be your shadow, $honorific, that means that I can step out of this hotel room but you can’t,” she responds. You narrow your eyes. “What do you mean I can’t?” you spit out. “If I want to I can go outside naked and you can’t tell me shit because you work for me not the other way around.” Charley gives you a stern look. “Exactly, I work for you and my job is to keep you alive. I can’t do that if you’re risking your life. My goal is to make sure you escape this country in one piece, which means that I will need to take measures you don’t agree with to ensure that.” You pull off the blanket, “Care to explain that? Because it sounds to me like you’re trying to kidnap me, dear Charley, and that’s not really something I’m going to take lying down.” You ignore the fact that you are lying down. “I want to keep you safe, $honorific. That’s all. Now please brush your teeth and eat,” she gently coaxes. You inhale sharply through your nose and follow her as she walks around the room, cleaning things. She has this uncanny ability to make you feel like a kid. <</if>>\ You sit up and look at the toothbrush. Nothing special, but it’ll do. You open the plastic container of food. She got you something she knew you’d like: eggs and bacon, pancakes, fruit, french toast. You see a plastic sealed cup on the nightstand. You lean over and sniff it: coffee, hot chocolate, tea, juice. Charley comes out of the bathroom with her long hair tied up in a simple braid. She’s wearing new clothes, a plain white shirt underneath a black blazer and brown slacks. You see the glint of her gun on the holster she has around her shoulder. “Let’s check that wound,” she says and sits down on the bed. <<if $respondd>>\ You lift your arm up. <<else>>\ You lift your thigh up. <</if>>\ She slowly unwraps it and in the morning light it looks as gross as it did last night. <<if $studies is "medicine">>\ “The swelling is the same, but there’s no pus, and it’s tender, but not more than last night,” you inform her. You sniff at it. “Smells like an open wound should. So far so good.” “You seem to be right.” “I am right,” you retort. She gives you a small smile. <<else>>\ “How’s it looking?” you ask. She studies it for a second more. “It seems to be where it should be. There’s no pus. The swelling doesn’t seem to have increased overnight.” “That’s just copacetic.” <</if>>\ She rewraps the wound. “So what happens now?” you ask, picking up but not eating your food just yet. Charley checks her watch. <<cycle '$charwatch' autoselect>><<option 'You have not-so-subtly asked her to get a better one'>><<option 'You gave it to her for her birthday'>><</cycle>>; you cringed at its simplicity. “Now, we wait. I’ve called reinforcements and they’ll be here soon,” she says calmly. [[◎ Page 126|◎ Page 126-ESCAPED.57]]

You suddenly look up at her and move the container off your lap. “Reinforcements? Did you talk to Pa or Lazlo?” She shakes her head. “They’re not affiliated with your family.” You blink. She sits down in her chair and looks at you, leaning forward and putting her elbows on her knees. Clasping her hands. “Well who the fuck are they then?” Her face is expressionless. Her eyes don’t leave yours but you know her. Behind those dark brown eyes, she’s thinking of something. “Charley,” you warn, your eyes narrowing. She lightly purses her lips. Something she has never done before, and that’s what makes you push off the covers and scoot closer. “What?” you ask. “I think this will make you very angry with me,” she begins. You clench your teeth, and in between the tightness of them you spit out, “I’m getting angrier the more you don’t say it.” She nods. “Ok. I’m only telling you this because I don’t want you to be taken by surprise. I haven’t been honest with you. I know you looked into my background and you found next to nothing.” You raise an eyebrow, “And why is that?” “Because the Bureau made sure you wouldn’t find anything damning.” You tense. “The Bureau?” She nods again. Her eyes have not left yours and her face is still. Composed. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Allow her to keep going|◎ Page 127-ESCAPED.58][$cc4 to true]] [[You’ve heard enough|◎ Page 127-ESCAPED.58]]

<<if $cc4>>\ “When I was in university—” “In Oxford.” “Yes, when I was in university in Oxford, I made a few… unsavory friends. It was the mid-sixties, it was groovy to be political and support ideologies that went against the standard western framework. I was young and angry at being seen as lesser for my sex and skin color. We were called the Meteorological club. It started as a club we could go to to debate and talk about our opinions—” “Wait a minute,” you interrupt, holding up a hand, “I think I’ve heard of that club.” You stand up and look at your bodyguard intensely. Slowly, you ask, “Charley, are you telling me that you were part of a terrorist group?” “It wasn’t like that at the beginning,” she responds. “Oh my God,” you groan, rolling your eyes and turning away. “‘It wasn’t like that,’” you mock, “that’s what brainwashed fucks usually say.” “It’s true. All we wanted was to be able to have the freedom to speak our minds and convince other people to join. Then we held protests against the Vietnam war and unlawful imprisonment of counterculture icons, and we fundraised money for minorities who needed lawyers. We promoted social issues like discrimination, sexual harassment and British imperialism.” You put your hands on your hips, “Ok and how did you go from that to… what was it? Planting bombs?” Charley sighs. “As the war in Vietnam became worse, more members started getting radicalized. They started talking about ways to make people see the truth. They wanted to do something that couldn’t be ignored. I was there for the first explosion.” “Wasn’t that a bomb at a bank?” “Barclay’s. But no, that was the first public bomb. The first explosion was when we were building the bombs. We were novices, we didn’t know what we were doing and there was an accident, the bomb went off and killed four of our members,” she explains, her voice far away. “One of them was our leader.” You cross your arms. “And you left after that?” “Yes.” You scoff in disbelief. “WOW.” Then you start laughing. “You’re a goddamn dirty commie!” “I’m not anymore. I would say I’m a democratic socialist.” You shake your head. “I can’t believe this.” You gesture at her with both hands, “This is you, then. The real you. A crazy fucking commie terrorist, who somehow got to work in the FBI.” Charley has nothing to say to that and you’re so baffled you sit down on the bed. “Who the fuck are you? Charley Das—if that even is your name!—who and what the fuck are you?” “I’m your bodyguard,” she says softly. You snort and pinch the bridge of your nose; not knowing what to say to her or what to do. <<else>>\ “Just don’t,” you hold up a hand. “I don’t want to hear any more bullshit coming out of your mouth. Charley, or whoever you are… just shut up.” You massage your temples and try to control the rage growing inside of you. “$honorific,” Charley says softly. You don’t respond. <</if>>\ The food grows cold. After finding out your bodyguard has been lying to your face for 4 years, you don’t feel like eating when she gives it to you. She doesn’t say sorry. She doesn’t try to soothe you by saying some bullshit like ‘I regret lying to you’ and ‘everything we have lived through together was real.’ No, the bitch just sits in that stupid chair and watches you. Like she’s trying to see if you’ll lose it. And boy, you want to. It would be the perfect way to end the cherry on top that was her betrayal over the last 12 hours. You’re going to… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Trust Charley|◎ Page 128-ESCAPED.59][$fbi to true]] [[Call your people to get you out of here|◎ Page 128-ESCAPED.59][$mafia to true]]

<<if $fbi>>\ You lick your lips, then roll them as you try to hush your swirling emotions. It stings that she lied. It stings that you don’t know her at all. But you already dealt with one betrayal in 1975, what’s another? Charley at least has kept you alive. You see no reason why she would want you dead. You can trust that, for now. So, you sit back down on the bed and eat your cold food. Your stomach grumbles too much not to do so. “This tastes like ass,” you complain as you chew. Charley’s mouth twitches, her eyes calm as she watches you and realizes what you meant by doing as she says. When you finish eating the food she brought you, you go into the bathroom while she makes a call. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You throw up your food|◎ Barf][$ED to true]] //[TW: ED]// [[Brush your teeth|◎ Barf]] <<elseif $mafia>>\ But you need her out of the room for that. You look at the telephone. You have the numbers of all the safe houses your Pa has; he made you memorize them in case you were ever in a jam. Like now. You just need to get this bitch out of here. So you do what you did whenever you wanted something out of Pa. You complied. You start chewing on the food. Making faces at how cold it’s gotten to sell that you aren’t trying to butter her up and yet calm her enough. She watches you silently as you eat. Her fingers interlocked. It used to freak you out how still she could be when she watched you. It was alien. You grab your cup and stare at it intently, bringing it to your nose and sniffing. You make a face. “Radha, what sort of place did you get this breakfast from?” “There’s a diner down the road,” she replies. “Hm,” you say and set it down. “Well that doesn’t smell too good. I want some water. Not tap water though. Bottled.” Charley checks her watch. “I don’t think it’s best for me to leave you here.” “You did it while I was asleep,” you retort. “Yes, while you were //asleep//. Forgive me, $honorific, but I don’t think you’ll be here when I get back,” she responds calmly. You huff in indignation. “You’re the one who’s been lying to me and yet I’m the one you don’t trust?” Charley looks at you. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You give her puppy dog eyes [Seduction]|◎ Page 129-ESCAPED.60][$sec1 to true]] [[You tell her she can shoot you [Intimidation]|◎ Page 129-ESCAPED.60][$sec2 to true]] [[Tell her to take your things [Cunning]|◎ Page 129-ESCAPED.60][$sec3 to true]] <</if>>\

<<if $fbi>>\ You spit your toothpaste into the sink, wash out your mouth and wipe your lips as you step into the room. Charley rolls her shoulders and then stops; she looks behind herself at you. “Who was that?” you ask. <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ Charley goes over to take her blazer off the chair and throws it on. Most women you know, yourself included, put on jackets and blazers one arm hole at a time. Charley does it like a man. Whirling it behind her and slipping it on. <<else>>\ Charley goes over to take her blazer off the chair and throws it on. Most women you know put on jackets and blazers one arm hole at a time. Charley does it like a man. Whirling it behind her and slipping it on. <</if>>\ “My partner,” she responds. Your eyes widen. “Partner… bitch you’re married?!” Charley inhales. “No. My colleague. Alex Luther.” You snort, “Your partner is named Lex Luthor?” “No, Alex and Luther with an E.” You still smile in amusement. “What did Mr. Big Bad supervillain say?” “That he’s on his way,” she replies and sits down to put on her shoes. You cross your arms. “Him and what army?” She ties her shoe laces. “No army, he’s coming alone. We want to create the least amount of fanfare possible. Dante’s men are likely patrolling the area.” You rub your arm. Charley looks up at you as she puts on her other shoe. “What is it?” You move your mouth around. You don’t like being unsure, and worse, to be noticed like that. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“I don’t trust the FBI.”|◎ Page 130-ESCAPED.61][$fbi1 to true]] [[“Should I trust the Feds?”|◎ Page 130-ESCAPED.61][$fbi2 to true]] [[“Nothing. I’m just on edge.”|◎ Page 130-ESCAPED.61][$fbi3 to true]] <<elseif $mafia>>\ <<if $sec1>>\ You blink rapidly, pinch your face and constrict your breathing. Your lower lip trembles as you say softly, “Charley, please? I’m going with you, aren’t I? Even though it’s not what I want. I have no other options. You’ve always protected me. Cared for me. Liked me, even.” Her eyes soften. “$honorific—” “I just want water. I had a shitty night. My best friend died,” you say, your voice breaking. “I just… need a break.” <<set $Seduction += 0.2>> Charley sighs deeply. <<elseif $sec2>>\ You roll your eyes dramatically. “You have your gun with you, right? Ok. You’ll likely be able to catch up to me faster with a car. You can run me over. You can shoot me to slow down. You think I’m gonna risk pain? Haven’t you met me?” <<set $Intimidation += 0.2>> She looks at your wound. “Yeah, this exactly. You think I want another one of these? You know how much I’m already saving up to cry over the scare I had last night,” you claim with a choked laugh. That part is true. “You wanna have to shoot me?” Charley shakes her head. <<elseif $sec3>>\ “UGH!” you groan, falling dramatically on the bed. Suddenly you shoot up, “Take my shoes. My wallet. The key to the room. The pills. Anything I couldn’t leave without.” Charley doesn’t reply. <<set $Cunning += 0.2>> You offer her a strained smile. “Look, we both know I’ve not always been the type of $luce.noun to make the best choices, but even I would think twice about fucking off with only the clothes on my back.” Charley closes her eyes. <</if>>\ She gets up and buttons her blazer. “I’ll go.” You almost jump in your seat. “But,” she raises a stern eyebrow, “I’ll be back very soon. You try to run, and I’ll find you.” You raise up your hands innocently. “Hey, I get it. It’s all groovy, cat.” She gives you a warning look and goes to the door, opening it and slipping out. You wait a few seconds before you rush to the telephone and ask the operator for a person-to-person call. You first try the one in the States. Receiving no answer, you go for Mexico. Your third try is your own temporary country. Pa bought a safe house here when you first moved here, waving away your complaints that he was being overprotective. The call rings for a few seconds as you play with a frayed end of the blanket. “Hello?” a male voice answers. You let out a noise that’s a cross between a laugh and a sigh. “Hello, it’s Luce. Can I talk to my Pa?” “$honorific Luce?” the guy asks in shock. “We thought—” A voice in the background interrupts him. There’s some crackles on the line before a new voice comes on. “Luce?” a voice whispers softly. You sit up. “Lazlo?” You hear an intake of breath. “It’s you.” “Yeah.” He doesn’t say anything else. You just hear his breathing on the other end. You look at the closed blinds. “So this sadly isn’t a social call. I’m calling you because I need you to come and pick me up. Charley is a Fed, and she likely wants to take me to them, and like hell I’m working for The Man—” “Hold on, Charley Das, your bodyguard, is an FBI agent?” “Apparently! Anyway, I got her out of the room but she’s not gonna be long. I need you guys to get your asses here as fast as possible,” you demand. “Yes, of course we’ll get there soon. I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he replies angrily. <<if $lazloIncest>>\ Your eyebrows rise at the tone. You feel yourself wanting to grin like an idiot. <<else>>\ Your eyebrows rise at the tone. <</if>>\ “Where are you?” You look at the brochure on the nightstand and give him the address of the hotel. “Ok, we’ll be there soon,” he responds. “Ok, I gotta go,” you say and move to hang up. “Luce?” he asks softly. “Yeah?” you ask, bringing the phone back to your ear. “… I’m glad you’re ok. Very.” <<if $lazloIncest>>\ You lick your lips. “Me too.” <<else>>\ You have a strange look on your face as you reply, “O.K. You too.” <</if>>\ “See you soon.” You hang up just as the door handle rattles. You pull your blanket up and lay down, closing your eyes. The door opens and closes. You open your eyes and yawn loudly. “AHHhey! Did you get the water?” She holds it out to you and you take it happily. It is true that you wanted water that wasn’t from the bathroom. You take a sip. Charley sips her water too. She sits down on that chair and takes off the hair tie she has around her wrist. Her fingers begin braiding her long strands again. You clear your throat and smile at her. She nods back. Then you purse your lips and look around, nodding. Fucking awkward. You blow out your cheeks and search for something to do. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Ask about her assignment|◎ Page 130-ESCAPED.61][$di1 to true]] [[Ask her what happens next?|◎ Page 130-ESCAPED.61][$di2 to true]] <</if>>\

<<if $fbi>>\ <<if $fbi1>>\ “Why?” she asks as she’s tying up her laces. You shrug. “I don’t know. Family? My Pa’s a criminal. All the money he’s ever given me was from that. From the phone call, it doesn’t sound like the agency is thrilled to have me.” “We’ll deal with that when we get to the States,” she responds. “Y’know, there’s been rumors about the way your agency handles shit. Should I really be a part of that?” Charley seems to tense at those words. Briefly, she looks at you with a strained expression, before swiftly replying, “You don’t have to trust them, but you can trust me.” <<elseif $fbi2>>\ “Of course,” she says simply. You roll your lips before replying, “You do know the shit they say about the Bureau, right? The corruption, the murders…” “I do.” She sits up. “You can at least trust that I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” <<elseif $fbi3>>\ “I’d imagine, you’ve had a rough start to the New Year,” she responds <<if $respondd>>\ Your hand goes to your bandages. Your arm feels stiff and sore. <<else>>\ Your hand goes to your bandages. Your thigh feels stiff and sore. “But things will get better when we’re back in the States.” <</if>>\ <</if>>\ “Oh God, and my Pa’s gonna have a bird when he finds out I’m with the Feds, Radha.” Charley blinks at you before taking off the hair tie she has around her wrist and starting a braid. Like the one she had last night. Now, this wouldn’t be weird. But as Charley knows you, you know her. The FBI shit was an easy loophole for her because you never knew you had to ask the question of if she was a Fed. <<elseif $mafia>>\ <<if $di1>>\ “So… you being assigned to me… what was that all about?” you ask innocently. Charley looks at you, not needing to look at her braid to know how to do it. “I was supposed to get assigned closer to the head of the family. Your father. But my colleague was instead.” Your eyebrows scrunch together. “Colleague? Who?” “You’ll meet him soon.” “Why were you assigned to me?” She points a finger to her hand. You’re about to ask what that means when you realize she’s not pointing to her hand but her skin color. “I was a demotion then?” She finishes her braid. “I don’t think it’s productive to respond to that.” You scoff. “Fine.” <<elseif $di2>>\ “We’re waiting for my colleague.” You give her a surprised look. “Who?” “Agent Luther. I called him just now while I was getting your water. We’re going to the States,” she informs. You nod. <</if>>\ “What about my Pa… my family? Will I get to see them when we go back?” Charley slightly narrows her eyes. Not angry at you but… unsure. The same expression she gets when she doesn’t want to say something. “Charley?” “I don’t think we can have this conversation now. I think it’s better if we have it on the plane,” she responds emotionlessly. <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 131|◎ Page 131-ESCAPED.62]]

You start pacing and while you pace, your mind starts racing with anxious thoughts and scary ones about how it’s really strange that it’s been so long since you’ve heard anything about your family. You could make up excuses last night but it’s been more than half a day, you should have news. You eye Charley, she’s reading the Bible again. She must know. She doesn’t want to tell you. You wouldn’t have thought she was a liar, but the fact that she didn’t tell you about the rumors about your Pa or about the fact that she’s a pig; she’s probably pretending to be a dumbass. But you really don’t want to ask. You don’t care to know the truth. You want to prolong it, but you know if you ask her point-blank, she’s incapable and lying outright. The FBI shit was an easy loophole for her because you never knew you had to ask the question of if she was a Fed. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Ask her for the truth|◎ Page 132-ESCAPED.63][$ttc to true]] [[Live in denial|◎ Page 132-ESCAPED.63]]

<<if $ttc>>\ “Charley,” you say slowly, your voice agitated. “What is going on with my family? Do you know?” She looks down at her hands for a moment, her eyes moving as if trying to find the right words, in the correct order to say what she doesn’t want to. Or maybe she just doesn’t want to make this whole situation worse. She looks up, her face made of stone as she responds, “They’re dead. The Grecos killed them just a few hours ago.” <<if '$pastime' is 'boxing'>>\ You’ve been punched in the stomach before while boxing. This feels like bare knuckles hitting you hard enough to break bones. <<else>>\ You’ve never been punched in the stomach. <</if>>\ Your knees give out and you fall onto the bed. Your eyes slowly blink and your mouth falls open. You look around you as if you don’t know where you are. Who are you? What has happened to the world you knew? Because this doesn’t feel like your world anymore. Charley reaches a hand out, placing it lightly on yours but you don’t feel it. You see her mouth moving but it’s all in slow motion and the words never reach your ears. <<else>>\ Does that make you a pussy? Fuck if you know. Sure. But you don’t care. You have tried to hold the door closed on all those things you don’t want to feel. And //this//? It’s huge and it’s kicking the door, your body is pressed so hard against the only barrier to the monster outside and you’re fighting to death in a battle you know you’ll lose. The monster will break down the door. It’ll get to you. But like hell are you going to make it easy. The truth, buried underneath the surface, written on Charley’s face and her demeanor, are begging to be acknowledged. But you can’t. You’ve never recovered from Andrea. If you let it in, you’ll never be okay again and that just isn’t fair to you. That’s not right. “$honorific, there’s something you need to know,” she begins slowly. “No, there isn’t,” you respond dismissively. “There’s nothing.” She eyes you, like one would a cobra standing at the ready, asking herself: //when will it strike?// <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 133|◎ Page 133-ESCAPED.64]]

Charley checks her watch a few more times and you lazily lay on the bed, facing the TV on your stomach, your arms hanging off and tracing the carpet with your fingers. A sitcom plays amidst the static. Cosmic microwave, huh? “Is your guy coming?” you ask, your voice gone distant, your mind in a tug-of-war as it often wanders towards the past and you actively have to remember to pay attention to the TV. “He should be here soon.” <<if $mafia>>\ You grimace. If her colleague gets here before Lazlo, you’re either fucked or super fucked, because a shootout might start and you ain’t looking to die today. <<elseif $fbi>>\ You yawn. You’re sick of this room. You’re sick of this country. You want nothing more than to be at home. In your old bedroom. When will you see it again? <</if>>\ Charley occasionally fixes her blazer. She’s impatient. You lift your head up, “Can you change the channel—” There’s a knock on the door. Both you and Charley freeze. She slowly looks at the door. You try to see who it is but the slit between the curtains is too thin. [[◎ Page 134|◎ Page 134-ESCAPED.65]]

<<audio "charley" loop play>>\ <<if $mafia>>\ There’s another knock and Charley gets up slowly. Her footsteps make no sound as she walks to the peephole, taking out her gun and holding it low with both hands. She peers through it and then looks down. She turns to you and there’s a look of disappointment on her face. She brings her finger to her lips. Your eyebrows cinch and you shake your head in confusion. “Luce, are you in there?” Lazlo asks from outside. You jump up. “LAZLO!” Charley sighs and closes her eyes. “Luce!” Lazlo starts pounding on the door. Charley turns the lock and throws it open, lifting up her gun and pointing it at Lazlo’s face. Lazlo immediately reciprocates and the man behind him does too. Charley stares them down, her face devoid of anger or fear. You know she won’t hesitate to shoot. Lazlo’s eyes flick to yours. You’re still on the bed, one knee on the mattress and one foot on the floor. <<elseif $fbi>>\ Then there follows a series of strange taps, kind of in a pattern. Charley immediately goes to the door. She peeps through the peephole, a hand hovering near her holster. You sit up, back as tight as a bow, your heart hammering inside your chest. Suddenly, she unlocks the door and throws it open. A man stands there, the brightness of the day makes you put a hand between your eyes and the door, shielding you from the light. “Agent K—” the man stops himself. “Agent Das.” He steps into the room; the man’s tall enough to almost reach the top of the door frame. He blocks out most of the sun. You lower your hand and there stands an older man. Probably just a few years older than Charley with slicked back black hair with gray hairs at his temples. He’s dressed not so differently from Charley, although there’s a nylon vest over his blazer. His eyes give you a once over and a disinterested look towards his colleague. She says, “Agent Luther. What’s with the delay?” “I thought there were some suspicious cars in the area. I had to go around the hotel a few times before I was sure they weren’t Greco’s men,” he responds. <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ She nods and then looks at you. “Agent Luther, this is Miss $surname.” <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ She nods and then looks at you. “Agent Luther, this is Mister $surname.” <<else>>\ She nods and then looks at you. “Agent Luther, this is $surname.” <</if>>\ <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 135|◎ Page 135-ESCAPED.66]]

<<if $mafia>>\ “Luce, are you ok?” he asks, not caring there’s a gun in his face. “I’m ok. Let’s get out of here,” you respond. “I can’t let you do that,” Charley replies. You glare at her. “And how are you going to stop me? There’s three of us and one of you.” She moves her finger to the trigger. “I’ve had worse odds. $honorific, you can’t go with him.” <<if $lazloIncest>>\ “Why not?” you stand up fully. “It’s my choice, he’s my family, and in case it wasn’t clear, you’re fired.” <<else>>\ “Why not?” you stand up fully. “It’s my choice, and in case it wasn’t clear, you’re fired.” <</if>>\ Charley slightly moves her head, to be able to look at you. “You’re making a mistake. You’re a civilian, you’re innocent. You go with your brother and that’ll be declaring to the agency that you’ve sided with criminals against them. When we catch you, you could be jailed. That life? Is that really what you want for yourself?” You put on your shoes and fix up your clothes. You walk up to her. “And what life would I have with you? You think the ‘agency’ is gonna treat me any better?” You look at Lazlo. “At least I know which side has never lied to me.” Something flickers in her eyes. “I never meant to hurt you. I was trying to do the right thing. I want to do the right thing and the world of the mob isn’t for you. You’ll suffer. Isn’t last night proof enough?” <<elseif $fbi>>\ The man slightly cocks his head as a way of greeting and pays you no more attention, which you find irritating, so you get up and walk up to the pair. “Ok, so are we getting the fuck out of here or not? I’m in need of a good massage, do you have a masseuse on the plane?” you say, rubbing the back of your neck. Agent Luther narrows his eyes. “$luce.beCon joking,” Charley replies with a stern look. “I wasn’t—” “Ready, then?” he asks Charley. “Yes,” she replies curtly and takes her things. You grab your things too and follow them out. Charley heads to the lobby to checkout and you’re left waiting by the simple 4-door car Agent Luther decided to drive here. It’s as boring as Charley’s car. He has his hands in his pockets, his eyes trained on the lobby doors. “So, where are we going?” “Didn’t Agent Das tell you?” “To the States. Duh. But where?” “Virginia.” <</if>>\ [[◎ Page 136|◎ Page 136-ESCAPED.67]]

<<if $mafia>>\ You flick your eyes away. You feel a nervousness curl in your chest. You know there’s some sense in what she’s saying. But… you’re you. “Better the devil you know and all that,” you reply and walk over to Lazlo. Immediately he grabs your elbow, secure but not tight. Like the bandages. He starts backing up but you don’t look behind you. <<lazloIncest>>You grab onto his jacket.<<lazloIncest>>\ Despite the lies, her betrayal; Charley wouldn’t shoot you. That’s just not the type of person she is. Unfortunately for her because you would, in her place. Lazlo and the bodyguard he brought with him slowly back up throughout the parking lot, never lowering their guns and never turning their backs to her. You get to a van that the bodyguard throws open. You climb inside and that’s when you look behind you. Charley still stands in the doorway, gun still trained on Lazlo. Her eyes find yours. You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Salute her|◎ Page 137-ESCAPED.68][$gchar to true]] [[“See you on the flip side, Radha.”|◎ Page 137-ESCAPED.68]] <<elseif $fbi>>\ You make a face. “A boring ass state? Couldn’t it have been New York, Miami or L.A.?” <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ Agent Luther gives you a cold look. “This isn’t a vacation, Miss. Your life is in danger, I hope you understand that.” <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ Agent Luther gives you a cold look. “This isn’t a vacation, Mister. Your life is in danger, I hope you understand that.” <<else>>\ Agent Luther gives you a cold look. “This isn’t a vacation, $surname. Your life is in danger, I hope you understand that.” <</if>>\ You click your tongue. “Ugh, everyone is //so// doom and gloom around these parts.” <<audio "charley" fadeout>> He keeps staring at you but you ignore him. He’s probably just thinking how sexy you are. You don’t blame him—everyone thinks that. Charley comes out of the lobby and when she’s a few feet away from you she asks, “Ready?” She’s not asking him, she’s asking you. And you realize by the tone of her voice that she’s not only asking if you’re ready to leave this hotel. It’s something bigger than that. Even if you weren’t… What choice do you have? <h2>END OF DEMO</h2> <</if>>\

<<audio "charley" fadeout>>\ You think maybe she cracks a smile. The sun’s too bright to see her clearly. The door shuts in front of you and that’s the last you see of her. <h2>END OF DEMO</h2>

<<if $mending>>\ She takes out a bottle labeled Sodium Chloride. “Saline? You know I’ll be fine with just water, right?” “It’s better to be as safe as you can with these types of wounds. You know this. Tap water isn’t always reliable,” she replies. You raise an eyebrow and then nod. “You’re right about that.” Logically, you know this shouldn’t hurt. The whole movie bullshit that you need to clean your wound with a form of alcohol is horseshit. But it doesn’t help that the pain is getting worse by the minute. You bite your lower lip and steel yourself. You lightly dab around your wound and then pour saline into it. You let out a hiss but it’s not because the pain has changed. It just feels good to vocalize how much the bullet wound hurts. Trickles of blood run down your arm. “Ok. Now for the fun part,” you let out a forced chuckle. “You can do this, $honorific,” she says. You inhale sharply. She doesn’t look at you, her entire focus on your arm but she does offer, “If you want, grab onto me with the hand of your injured arm. Tensing will make it hurt more but not by much.” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You do|◎ Page 78-ESCAPED.9-M][$grip to true]] [[You don’t|◎ Page 78-ESCAPED.9-M][$grip2 to true]] <<else>>\ You know she’s going to clean it now with what seems to be saline. One of the few things you found interesting in class was that you didn’t and shouldn’t use alcohol on a wound like this. It’s not meant to hurt at all but you still steel yourself. The pain is increasing with the adrenaline completely gone. You tense as she lightly dabs around your wound and then pours saline into it. You let out a hiss but it’s not because the pain has changed. It just feels good to vocalize how much the bullet wound hurts. “Ok, now I’ll be taking it out,” she says. You inhale sharply. She doesn’t look at you, her entire focus on your arm but she does offer, “If you want, grab onto me.” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You do|◎ Page 78-ESCAPED.9-M][$grip to true]] [[You don’t|◎ Page 78-ESCAPED.9-M][$grip2 to true]] <</if>>\

<<if $mending>>\ <<if $grip1>>\ You grip her pants tightly and the blazing ache you had felt before is marred by a sharp pain that makes you bite into your tongue. <<elseif $grip2>>\ You can do this. Yeah. Of course. Definitely. You gulp. <</if>>\ The tweezers go in and you don’t feel it for a moment. Then you hesitate a hair’s breadth before the actual bullet. You suck in your lower lip. “$honorific?” Charley asks. You blow out your cheeks. “Yeah. Right.” You swallow, your throat dry. You grab onto the bullet and there’s a hot flare of pain so bad you gasp, not being able to even scream because it hurts too much to get relief. Your body tenses up but you don’t move. “$honorific—” “SHUT UP!” you curse and bare your teeth as you start pulling it out. Your sounds of pain are stuck in your parched throat but tears spring from your eyes. You dig in deeper. “Remember to be gentle, have a steady hand,” she explains. “I know,” you snap unintentionally. You start pulling it out and your stomach swirls with the feeling of nausea. Beads of sweat fall into your eyes and you blink them away. You pull it out and drop the tweezers. You push Charley away as you run to the toilet and barely make it before vomit pours out of your mouth. You haven’t eaten much in the past hours but it comes out in thick putrid streams, burning your throat and eyes. Your stomach clenches and releases over and over until all you’re doing is gagging on nothing. [[◎ Page 79|◎ Page 79-ESCAPED.10-M]] <<else>>\ <<if $grip1>>\ You grip her pants tightly. <<elseif $grip2>>\ You can do this. Yeah. Of course. Definitely. You gulp. <</if>>\ The tweezers go in and you don’t feel it for a moment. Then Charley grabs onto the bullet and there’s a hot flare of pain so bad you gasp, not being able to even scream because it hurts too much to get relief. She doesn’t stop even as you’re gasping for air. She digs in the tweezers a bit deeper to make sure she has a good hold of the bullet and then starts pulling. You hunch forward, not being able to double-over because she has a tight grip on your arm. “Fuck,” you manage to sputter out with a good amount of spit. Then she lets go of your arm and you bend down until your face is touching your knees. Your arm is still out. “I took it out,” she says. You don’t reply. You’re trying very hard to not cry like a pussy. You feel tears at the corners of your eyes. Your breathing is hitched and you feel bile threatening to crawl up your throat. “I’m going to wash the wound out again and then bandage it up. I’ll check on it first thing tomorrow. The most important thing is to check for signs of infection,” she explains. You hear her get up and go to the bathroom. She washes her hands and comes back. You don’t move at all even though your shoulder starts aching from being bent out as you’re hunched over. [[◎ Page 79|◎ Page 79-ESCAPED.10-M]] <</if>>\

<<if $mending>>\ “Fuck,” you manage to rasp out with a good amount of spit. You pull the seat down and lay your cheek against it as you flush it. A light touch on your arm makes you jump. Charley kneels beside you. A hand rubbing your back. “I’m going to wash the wound out again and then bandage it up. I’ll check on it first thing tomorrow. I know you don’t need me to tell you what signs of infection we have to look out for,” she says. You’re too weak to protest that you don’t need her help and you can do it yourself. You just nod. She washes her hands and sits back down. She cleans it up as much as she can; you feel the saline trickle down your arm and then you hear the sound of fabric and scissors. She bandages it up tightly but with enough room for you to move your arm. You hope you won’t need stitches. But it also might heal badly and you want to minimize the ugliness of the scar. She helps you sit up slightly and you look at your arm. Charley finishes securing the bandage. There’s reddish-pink trails of blood down your arm. Your bodyguard puts everything away as you sit there and breathe in and out. Beads of sweat are rolling down your already wet face. You can’t even try to explain how much the throbbing hurts. She holds out a small white pill and a bottle of water. You take it—likely a painkiller. She guides you back to the bed with an arm around your waist. She sits you down gently. [[◎ Page 80|◎ Page 80-ESCAPED.11]] <<else>>\ “Are you going to want stitches? Not now, but in a few days?” she asks. You’re in too much pain to speak so you just shake your head. “Ok, we’ll just focus on monitoring it. I don’t need to tell you the signs of infections.” You feel the saline trickle down your arm and then you hear the sound of fabric and scissors. Charley rolls the bandages around your arm over and over again. It becomes tight but not too much. You finally sit up slightly and look at your arm. Charley finishes securing the bandage. There’s reddish-pink trails of blood down your arm. Your bodyguard puts everything away as you sit there and breathe in and out. Beads of sweat are rolling down your already wet face. You can’t even try to explain how much the throbbing hurts. She holds out a small white pill and a bottle of water. You take it without asking what it is, more than glad to leave it all to her. [[◎ Page 80|◎ Page 80-ESCAPED.11]] <</if>>\

“Do you have any cigarettes on you?” you ask. “Yes, do you want one?” “Yeah.” Charley always has cigarettes on her. You don’t know why, she doesn’t even smoke as far as you know. And you... <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Do|◎ Smoke Break 2][$smoker to true]] [[Don’t|◎ Smoke Break 2]]

<<if $smoker>>\ You just never have any on you because you know she always does. When you’re not with her, you bum it off other people. <<else>>\ “You don’t smoke,” she states. “New year, new me. I think I should take it up since, if the start of this year is indication, I’m going to need stress relief,” you posit. <</if>>\ “I don’t think you should smoke with your bullet wound,” she says. <<if $respondd>>\ “It’s not like I’m sticking the butt into my arm,” you snark. <<else>>\ “It’s not like I’m sticking the butt into my thigh,” you snark. <</if>>\ She gets up and reaches into the pocket of her blazer. She flicks on the lamp on the nightstand and hands you the cigarette, while you light it she brings over the small trashcan by the TV for you to use as an ashtray. <<if $smoker>>\ You inhale deeply, enjoying the irritation in your throat. <<else>>\ You inhale deeply, coughing in the process. “Heavy,” you rasp. <</if>>\ Charley holds up the ashtray for you to lightly tap. Through the smoke, you watch her. Her eyes are cast down onto the blanket. Completely patient and in her own world. What does she think about when she goes quiet? You can’t imagine Charley with an interior life. Maybe because she holds so much in. It’s so weird to feel that you intrinsically know someone in your very marrow, but don’t even know her favourite color. She knows everything there is to know about you but you wouldn’t say it’s because you told her. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[She’s your best friend|◎ Smoke Break 3][$cc6 to true]] [[It’s one-sided|◎ Smoke Break 3]]

<<if $cc6>>\ In a way that Marcey never was. You had to keep a lot from her because of who your family is. You would think how she would react to knowing what your Pa does for a living. She might’ve hated it. But not Charley. She doesn’t judge. <<else>>\ And you hate it. You have never been on the receiving end of a one-sided relationship. You were giving more to her than she was to you and you didn’t even fucking notice until now. <</if>>\ You don’t notice that you’ve finished your cigarette until it burns the sides of your fingers. You grunt and it falls into the trashcan. Charley reaches in and stamps it out. She tries to take the rest of the cigarettes from you, but you grab the package first and bring it to your chest. “I might want to smoke more during the night.” “Ok, please be careful not to fall asleep while smoking,” she advises and leaves the trashcan on the floor, near the bed. She lays back down. You switch off the lamp. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[You think of sharing the bed [Gentle]|◎ Page 108-ESCAPED.39][$cc3 to true]] [[She’s not sharing the bed with you [Grudging]|◎ Page 108-ESCAPED.39][$cc31 to true]] [[“Goodnight, Radha.”|◎ Page 108-ESCAPED.39][$n1 to true]] [[You close your eyes|◎ Page 108-ESCAPED.39][$n2 to true]]

<<if $ED>>\ You run to shut the door, run the tap water loudly and kneel in front of the toilet. You take in a deep breath and then stick your finger deep into your mouth. A gesture that’s a habit to you now. Then you flush, wash your hands and brush your teeth. You hear her talking to someone so you shut off the water and strain to hear. <<else>>\ You brush your teeth slowly and turn off the tap water, straining to hear what she’s saying. <</if>>\ “—everywhere. $luce.subjCap can’t be left here.” A pause. “I get that. But $surname is sharper than you think. If we can get Richards to meet $luce.obj then we might have a chance to keep this investigation in our hands. You know he’s itching to give it to Adams and Key.” Another silence. “How long?” A response from the other end. “Ok,” she says and hangs up. [[◎ Page 129|◎ Page 129-ESCAPED.60]]

<<widget "lazloIncest" container>><<if $lazloIncest>><<print _contents>><</if>><</widget>>

“I think so,” he said. “What does that mean?” “I don’t remember where I got the name from. I just know that I got it one day and I liked it.” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ == Is your name really Lazlo? == [[How old are you?|◎ Page 37-LAZ2-2][$L2 to true]] [[Where are your parents?|◎ Page 37-LAZ2-3][$L3 to true]] [[Do you think I have a nice face?|◎ Page 37-LAZ2-4]]

“I think I’m 9,” he replied. You blew out air. “You don’t even know how old you are? That’s weird.” He shrugged. “I don’t care that much.” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Is your name really Lazlo?|◎ Page 37-LAZ2-1][$L1 to true]] == How old are you? == [[Where are your parents?|◎ Page 37-LAZ2-3][$L3 to true]] [[Do you think I have a nice face?|◎ Page 37-LAZ2-4]]

He stopped coloring and looked at you. “I don’t want to talk about that, please.” You gave him a strange look, “Why don’t you want to talk about your parents? Are they bad?” Lazlo looked away and picked at his nails, “No. I don’t think so. But there isn’t a lot I can say.” You forced the crayon back into his hand and he started coloring again. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Is your name really Lazlo?|◎ Page 37-LAZ2-1][$L1 to true]] [[How old are you?|◎ Page 37-LAZ2-2][$L2 to true]] == Where are your parents? == [[Do you think I have a nice face?|◎ Page 37-LAZ2-4]]

He didn’t look at you when you said that. His hand squeezed the crayon tighter. You moved your face closer. “Loooook,” you demanded. Lazlo quickly glanced at your face and then away. “Yes,” he said quietly. You contentedly went back to coloring. [[◎ Page 37|◎ Page 37-LAZ3]]

“Let me see,” you said and pulled his purple flower to you. “You’re getting all of it outside the lines!” “I’ve never colored before,” he responded. His cheeks were red and you didn’t know what that meant. You made a face. “You’re gonna need practice. Lots and lots of practice.” You flipped to another page with another flower. “We can practice all day.” You laid down on your stomach and got back to coloring. Lazlo didn’t, he just put the coloring book on his lap. “I think your dad will want me to do stuff with him.” You scowled. “No he won’t. I’ll tell him I want you to be my friend and be with me all the time and he’ll say yes because he always likes to make me happy, you’ll see.” You then started to focus so seriously on the very important act of coloring a snout that you missed the small smile he gave you. [[◎ Page 37|◎ Page 37-LAZ4]]

You let go of his hand and didn’t see how he stuck that very hand into his pocket. You fell onto the bed and smiled up at him, “Do you like my room?” He stood by the door, his eyes wide, ready to bolt out the door. You pouted and asked, “What? Is it ugly? Am I ugly? Why are you being mean to me?” “I’m… not. I’m sorry,” he replied. “Then why don’t you say anything? My brother talked a lot. You have to talk to me, or else you’re not my brother,” you said and crossed your arms. Lazlo’s eyebrows had furrowed. He looked behind him and seemed ready to leave but then he looked back at you. Something softened in his eyes and his shoulders stopped being so tense. He rolled his lips and pressed them together as he slowly walked over to you. He didn’t sit down but stood there and looked around the room. “It’s nice,” he said. You grinned. “It’s the best. I picked out everything myself. What is your room like?” “I don’t have one,” he said. “Why? I thought every kid had a room.” “I don’t. I lived outside,” he said and looked around for where to sit. You patted the spot next to you on the bed and he hesitated for a second before sitting down, making sure there was space between you two. “Is that why your clothes are dirty and have holes?” you asked. He nodded. You made a face. “Well, now Pa will get you all the clothes you want. He does that for me.” “Ok.” “You’ll get my older brother’s room too. You could wear his clothes,” you suggested. Lazlo looked at his hands, his brows drawn. He didn’t respond. You grabbed your coloring books and crayons. You pulled Lazlo onto the carpet and gave him a page to color. As you colored in a purple dog, he slowly colored a flower. “Is Luce your first name?” he asked. “Nope. It’s $name,” you replied. “I like it,” he said. “I like Luce too.” His cheeks turned red at that. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Is your name really Lazlo?|◎ Page 37-LAZ2-1][$L1 to true]] [[How old are you?|◎ Page 37-LAZ2-2][$L2 to true]] [[Where are your parents?|◎ Page 37-LAZ2-3][$L3 to true]] [[Do you think I have a nice face?|◎ Page 37-LAZ2-4]]

<h2>//__''1964''__//</h2>\ The only emotion he would show was when you looked at him across the table and made a funny face at him. He would smile. He never got over his quietness. Around the house, he barely talked to anyone at first, and when you would drag him to your room to chat, it would be annoyingly hard to get him to contribute with anything but one word answers. Although… sometimes you caught him in a good mood. Your eyes were glazing over. You sighed loudly. “That’s the third time you’ve done that,” Lazlo said beside you. You were both in his room, lying on his bed with your arms touching. You hardly ever came in here, because you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from criticizing his lack of decor and trying to force him to change it. Lazlo didn’t say ‘no’ to you often, but about this? He wouldn’t budge no matter how much you grumbled. The only thing on the wall was a wooden cross. You came here because you thought you would be able to concentrate on your English homework more. “It’s boring. I don’t care what some old dead lady said 100 years ago,” you groaned and threw the book on the floor. Lazlo looked up from his own book. A tattered copy of a detective novel. You didn’t get why he liked them so much. It was just words on a page. You had brains but you thought school was mostly useless and English class didn’t help. Lazlo chuckled and bent down to pick up the book. “Harper Lee wrote this book 4 years ago and she’s still very much alive.” He gave it back to you and you closed it, shoving it in your backpack. He shook his head at you and continued reading. You looked around the room, wiggling your mouth as you thought of what to do. You could leave but Lazlo had been so busy lately with your Pa. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Ask him what they did together|◎ Page 37-LAZ5][$LL1 to true]] [[Ask him what’s he reading|◎ Page 37-LAZ5][$LL2 to true]] [[Lay in silence|◎ Page 37-LAZ5]]

<<if $LL1>>\ “We work,” he responded simply. You raised an eyebrow, “What the heck does that mean? He tells me the same thing but I don’t know what ‘work’ you do.” “Why do you care?” he asked, not unkindly. You flopped back on the bed, putting your hands on your stomach. Lazlo laid his book on his stomach and you felt him looking at you. “I just… you’re not here a lot. Pa isn’t here. So I’m…” He waited for you to continue. That’s one of the good things about him. He never pushed you. “Lonely here. There’s Ma, but sometimes she’s too sick or she gets sad. Bee is two. I have friends but I don’t… I…” you trailed off, the words getting stuck in your throat. “I miss you,” he said. You bit your lip. You couldn’t manage to say it back. You just nodded. “Good.” <<elseif $LL2>>\ You turned to him, propping yourself up on your elbow and took the book from where it was lying on his belly. Your eyebrows cinched as you read a few lines. “Why do you like these books so much?” “They’re fun. For example, in this one, Detective Stonepipe and Mr. Wordshallow have to investigate the case of the missing pimp clown of Murkyweather Lane,” he explained. “The suspects are the old lady who likes clowns too much, the girl who works as one of the clown’s ‘girls’ and a rival pimp clown, if you can believe it.” You snorted. “Aren’t you too young to be reading stuff like that?” He took the book back, “I’ve seen worse things than this.” You laid your head down on his pillow and asked, “Will you tell me what it was like to live on the streets?” “One day.” <<else>>\ You two lay there, Lazlo reading his book and you looking at him. At times his eyes would quickly glance at you before looking back at his book. He didn’t flip the page for over 10 minutes. <</if>>\ You… <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Laid your head on his shoulder|◎ Page 37-LAZ6][$LLL1 to true]] [[Didn’t move|◎ Page 37-LAZ6]]

<<if $LLL1>>\ You didn’t think about it. You weren’t old enough to know what it could mean. You moved your head and rested it on his shoulder. You could feel the bones in his shoulders. He closed the book and put it on his nightstand. <<else>>\ It felt dangerous, somehow. Your hand rested in between you and he reached out and put his over yours. His felt rougher than yours, unpleasant and yet still… good. It felt like his hand belonged there. <</if>>\ He looked up at the ceiling and didn’t move to touch you more. You felt the rising of his chest. You wished you could feel the beating of his heart. Was it going as fast as yours? “Luce?” he whispered. “Lazlo,” you replied. He got a pinched look on his face. “Have you ever liked someone?” “Like how? //Like// //Like//?” you asked. “Yeah. //Liked Liked//.” You thought about it. There were kids in your class that you liked looking at. Sometimes you got all weird around one of them. It was a different kid every year. “Maybe. What about you?” He started picking at his nails. “I—” he cut himself off and turned to face you. His face was inches from yours. You had only seen him up this close once. You didn’t remember how blue his eyes were. He looked like he wanted to say something. “Luce I think that—” “LUCE!” your mother bellowed. You and Lazlo jumped up. Your Ma stood at the door, gripping the door handle. She looked from you to Lazlo with a very alarmed look on her face. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Nothing Ma!” you yelled back. “We weren’t doing anything, Mrs. $surname,” Laz said. Your Ma didn’t even look at him and reached out for you. “Luce, let’s go.” “But Ma—” <<if $cisf or $transm or $nbf>>\ “Right now, missy,” she ordered. You groaned and climbed off the bed. You took her hand and she pulled you out of the room. <<else>>\ “Right now, mister,” she ordered. You groaned and climbed off the bed. You took her hand and she pulled you out of the room. <</if>>\ As she led you down the hall, you asked, “Ma, I was playing with Lazlo. Why are you mad?” “I wanted to spend time with you,” she responded. “You didn’t have to take me out of the room like that,” you said. “Luce, please, don’t question me,” she said gently. She stopped pulling you along and slowed down to a walk, her hand not leaving yours. “Lazlo is my brother. I want to play with him,” you claimed. “Well, that’s your choice. I’m glad you remember that that is what he is to you, my love." She wrapped her arms around you and mumbled against your hair, “I hope he remembers that too.” [[◎ Page 37|◎ Page 37-LAZ7]]

You once asked him, “Do you care about what I’m saying at all?” “Of course I do. I like listening to you talk,” he replied. “Or maybe you don’t want to talk to me,” you huffed and got up. He reached out and grabbed your hand. His were rough and his nails were very short. He looked at your clasped hands and said, “I love talking to you.” “Doesn’t seem like it,” you snarked. He pulled you an inch closer and rubbed your hand with his thumb. He looked up at you with gentle eyes, a rare sight. “Do I ever lie to you?” You smiled and shook your head. On impulse you threw your arms around him. You ignored the heat rising to your face as you said, “You’re a good brother.” He gently hugged you back. “You’re good too, Luce.” You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, his skin smelled like soap. His arms held you tightly. You felt your stomach flip. <<if $cisf or $transf>>\ You didn’t notice how he didn’t call you his sister back. <<elseif $cism or $transm>>\ You didn’t notice how he didn’t call you his brother back. <<else>>\ You didn’t notice how he didn’t call you his sibling back. <</if>>\ <hr class="symbol-hr">\ You like to think you knew who you were pretty young. Due to what was between your legs, people called you what they wanted. You didn't like that, even if it was true. You had made a point to make people refer to you as... <hr class="symbol-hr">\ <<link "She/Her">> <<set $lucePronounSet to "she">> <<set $luce to $lucePronouns[$lucePronounSet]>> <<set $pronounsLocked to true>> <<goto "◎ Page 37">> <</link>> <<link "They/Them">> <<set $lucePronounSet to "they">> <<set $luce to $lucePronouns[$lucePronounSet]>> <<set $pronounsLocked to true>> <<goto "◎ Page 37">> <</link>> <<link "He/Him">> <<set $lucePronounSet to "he">> <<set $luce to $lucePronouns[$lucePronounSet]>> <<set $pronounsLocked to true>> <<goto "◎ Page 37">> <</link>>

<<if $BL>>\ You took a step forward and while he looked away in awkwardness, he didn’t take a step back. You leaned closer, you could feel his breath on your face. You leaned your forehead against his and whispered in the space between your mouths. “I love you.” “I love you,” he replied without hesitation. “More than anyone in the world, forever.” “I love you, I love you, I love you,” you whispered against his lips. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. He grabbed your hands and held them tightly in between you two. As a sort of need to touch and—you realized later, after the party was over and you’d gone to bed—as a barrier. <<else>>\ You pulled him close and threw your arms around his neck. Burying your face in his neck that smelled of that scent you loved, clean clothes and hints of lavender. He wrapped his arms around your waist tightly and they shook. “Are you happy?” he asked. You nodded, not trusting your throat to speak. “Good, then I’m happy.” <</if>>\ There’s an unspoken conversation that had him step into the room and you follow after. His eyes never left yours as he walked backwards until his knees hit his bed and fell back onto it. You fell beside him and you both stared up at the ceiling. “I wish I knew how to dance,” he said. “Why?” you asked. “I wanted to dance with you for your birthday,” he responded. Your eyes widened and you felt as if a bright light was on you. “Oh,” you managed to choke out. “One day, I’ll dance with you,” he continued. “You’re saying that because you don’t want to be humiliated now, huh?” you chuckled; hopefully he wouldn’t tell how forced it was. “Exactly,” he laughed. “I could teach you.” “That would ruin the surprise.” You rolled your eyes. “You better be a great fucking dancer then.” “I’ll be good enough,” he promised. “And don’t swear.” You turned to look at him and his eyes were closed, a grin on his lips. [[◎ Page 47]]

The next day, your refused to talk to him, to even look at him. Over breakfast, even if things you wanted were closest to him you would ask the person next to him to ask him to pass it over. Your Pa sighed but didn’t comment while your Ma smiled all through the meal. Which made you want to forgive Lazlo right away. Bianca didn’t know what was going on so she chatted on and on to Lazlo about the cartoon she was watching. You guys loaded into the car, ready to go to church. Lazlo was in the same car as you and tried to catch your eyes many times but you stubbornly looked out the window. “Luce?” he asked. Bianca was snoozing in between you two. Your Ma looked at you through the mirror. You pretended to not hear him. “Luce, I’m sorry,” he whispered. You still didn’t respond. He sighed. “You don’t know how much I… do.” //How much he loves you.// You still looked out the window until you felt his eyes were off you. When you looked at him he was looking outside his own window, his eyes glassy. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ You hadn’t spoken to him in a week, you would force yourself to ignore his stares. He hadn’t tried to talk to you since the car ride home. Bee had taken to spending more time with him since you weren’t ‘hogging’ him anymore. Your parents noticed something was up but your Pa would just diplomatically ignore it. Ma was in the best mood. She was even speaking to Lazlo more often. Meanwhile, you were in the worst mood you’d been in a long time and you tore your room apart when your Ma grounded you for skipping school. You were sitting on a deck chair by the pool of your house. You were enjoying the sun, watching Bee play in the pool, a life preserver on. She wore a bright pink bathing suit and was drowning her Barbies. Anyone tried to take her toys away to perverse them was met with a loud wail. You were spreading lotion on your arms, feeling like you looked pretty cute/nice looking in your bathing suit when you heard voices coming up from behind you. You looked over your shoulder, from behind your sunglasses to see Lazlo chatting away with one of the new servant girls. You told her to bring you an orange juice and there she was. Giggling at whatever he was saying to her. You had never seen him do that before. Lazlo didn’t talk to people first. Ever. Especially not girls and he wouldn’t make them laugh like he’s doing right now. The girl whatever-the-hell-her-name-was, letting him carry your tray of orange juice. She was laughing TOO hard at what he was saying. You gritted your teeth and looked away. You wanted to stand up and go scream at both of them. For what? You didn’t know. But you waited until Lazlo and //she// come over to your chair. “Here,” he said to you, lowering the tray for you to take it. He briefly glanced at you before looking at the girl and responding to something she said. “I’m too busy these days.” You took the glass of orange too sharply and it spilled all over your hand and legs. “Fuck,” you snapped. “Oh,” Lazlo said and grabbed your towel. He was going to clean you off but you snatched the towel from him and stood up. You glared at both of them. “What is this?!” Lazlo titled his head. “What is what, Luce?” “THIS!” you gestured between both of them. The girl looked fearful at the anger radiating off of you. “Miss/Mister Luce, I was just talking to your brother. We met near the kitchen and he offered to help me bring you your drink.” You snorted and tapped your foot against the cement. “Is that right? Are you so fucking weak you can’t carry a tray?” “Luce,” Lazlo admonished. The girl’s eyes widen and you could see tears forming which give you a nice tingle. “What? Isn’t this her job? Why is she HERE if she can’t doing something so basic, Lazlo?” you question him, your rage intensifying as you remember how he was smiling at her. Lazlo shook his head. He turned to the girl, “You should go back inside.” The girl wipes away a quick tear and bows her head slightly. She’s a skinny ugly thing. She scurries away from you and this situation. Lazlo watched her until the door closed behind her, then he looked at you, the disappointment clear on his face. “Luce, that’s no way to speak to someone who works here.” <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[“Should I speak to her like you did?”|◎ Page 52-LAZ1][$LB1 to true]] [[“You really care about her.”|◎ Page 52-LAZ1][$LB2 to true]] [[“She’s not important. You and me are.”|◎ Page 52-LAZ1]]

<<if $LB1>>\ “How did I speak to her?” he asked, confusion all over his face. You scowled as you replied, “Don’t act dumb. You were being all flirty and she was licking it up.” Lazlo crossed his arms. “I was not being anything but nice. I offered to carry out the tray out of courtesy because she’s new and because I wanted an excuse to talk to you.” <<elseif $LB2>>\ He squinted at you. “I hardly know her. Luce, where is this attitude coming from?” “YOU NEVER TALK TO ANYONE AND SUDDENLY YOU TALK TO HER?! WHY?!” you screamed, overwhelmed. Lazlo looked taken aback by your outburst. He blinked several times before replying, “To talk to you. I brought the tray out to talk to you.” <<else>>\ “As far as you’re concerned there isn’t a me and you anymore,” he responded. You scoffed. “You gave up so easily then? It’s only been a week and now you think we’re history. So what we had meant nothing?” “What did we have, Luce?” he replied. You stopped short. He was right. What were you doing? He was looking at you and if he expected you to answer, you wouldn’t know what to say. “I brought you the tray because I wanted to find a way to talk to you. You’re important to me.” <</if>>\ “As far as you’re concerned there isn’t a me and you anymore,” he responded. You scoffed. “You gave up so easily then? It’s only been a week and now you think we’re history. So what we had meant nothing?” “What did we have, Luce?” he replied. You stopped short. He was right. What were you doing? He was looking at you and if he expected you to answer, you wouldn’t know what to say. “I brought you the tray because I wanted to find a way to talk to you. You’re important to me.” Like a switch your anger disappeared and you’re were left with surprise. “You wanted to talk to me?” “Of course I did,” he answered. “I thought serving you would make you more agreeable,” he said sheepishly. You pretend to look around you, as if what he said didn’t affect you as much as it did. “So you being all friendly with the maid, was for me?” “I was ‘friendly’ with her because she works here, but yes,” he replied. “Huh.” “A lot of what I do is…,” he trailed off and you waited expectantly but he just looked behind you. You looked behind you too and there was Bee ripping off the heads of her dolls. “So, am I allowed to sit here with. If not to talk than at least to watch our sister,” he offered. You didn’t respond right away; you wanted to immediately take him up on it but you didn’t want to look too eager. He’s the one who should be begging after all. “Hmm, OK. She listens to you more anyway,” you replied and sat back down. He smiled and sat down next to you. You stared at him over the rim of your sunglasses. “Why aren’t you with Pa?” Lazlo leaned back into the chair and squinted at you, the sun getting in his eyes. “He let me go early. He said he wanted me to ‘enjoy the sun with my family.’” “You know he agreed to let me go to $country,” you commented casually. “Hm,” he replied. You studied him, he didn’t look angry. So you ventured further, “Ma did too. I’ll be going over there soon to apartment hunt.” “Ok.” You narrowed your eyes. “Ok? What does that mean?” Lazlo put his hand over his eyes as a shield so he could look at you better. “It means that if this is what you want, then ok.” “So you agree?” “No. But you’re happy and no one is going to change your mind, so what choice do I have? I don’t want you to leave for 4 years and not speak to you. That would make me lose it,” he confessed. You felt your heart flutter. <hr class="symbol-hr">\ [[Grab his hand|◎ Page 52-LAZ2][$lb3 to true]] [[Punch him playfully|◎ Page 52-LAZ2]]

<<if $lb3>>\ You reached over and laid your hand on top of his pale, already burning one. You gripped it tightly and he ran his thumb along your pinkie. You looked away to Bee so he couldn’t see your face. <<else>>\ You punched him in the arm and he smiled. You looked away to Bee so he couldn’t see your face. <</if>>\ After that, two strange things happened before you left for school. One day, your father hired you a personal bodyguard named Charley Das. Charley was five years older than you. She had an adept knowledge of multiple languages and a talent for shooting, and she looked around your age, so she registered in all the same classes. To your friends, she was a second cousin. You didn’t know much about her. She was polite, never talked back, and tried to let you live your life with as much freedom as she could allow you. The New Year’s party worried her; there were too many people, and the balcony allowed for snipers from the neighbouring buildings. She agreed on the condition that you uninvited a quarter of the guests and allowed her a gun with more rounds. She could be overzealous. Your overall opinion was that she was <<cycle '$char' autoselect>><<option 'just doing her job'>><<option 'someone you owed your life to'>><<option 'annoyingly suffocating'>><</cycle>>. [[◎ Page 52]]

Each romance options has their own (2) romantic paths. This affects how they treat you in romantic scenes. Dante has ''[Control]'' and ''[Chaos]''. A controlled MC is the more rational. A chaotic MC follows him into his insanity. Carmen has ''[Bitchy]'' and ''[Beign]''. A bitchy MC relishes in hurting Carmen. A beign MC is less prone to insulting Carmen. Lazlo has ''[Obvious]'' and ''[Oblivious]''. An obvious MC, makes their intentions well known and flusters. An oblivious MC does not realize what they feel or are doing. Charley has ''[Gentle]'' and ''[Grudging]''. A gentle MC is more likely to be kinder to Charley and agreeable. A grudging MC is more likely to dig their heels in. <<back>>